throat. “I started out at the Orange settlement, way out east. My family had had a farm, but Ma left us and Pa got killed somewhere out in the desert. The people at Orange said I needed some kind of job. And I’d always been big, had muscle. More muscle than any boy. So they put me in charge of rabbit slaughtering… you know, for the rabbit drives. I hated that damn job.”
I remembered rabbit drives. Hundreds of rabbits, herded into pens, then bludgeoned to death with clubs when food was especially scarce. I’d only seen one, a long time ago, before the walls went up, but I remembered the savagery of it, the blood spattering the men’s coveralls, sinking into the dust. No wonder Judith was a vegetarian.
“I know I’m big and I know I’m tough, but doing that day in and day out does something to you. I just hated killing them, hearing them squeal like that. What did a little bunny rabbit ever do to anyone? That sound, their squealing, kept me up at night till I was completely numb inside. So then, one day, I just left. I was wandering out in the desert, and Olivia found me. ‘You look strong. Can you lift fifty pounds? Eighty pounds? A hundred pounds?’ and I said yes, that I was stronger than most men. She said she had need of some muscle around here. Then I asked her if I’d have to kill any more rabbits, and she said no.” Judith smiled. “So here I am. And I’ve never had to kill an animal ever again.”
Cassandra was next, and she cleared her throat and adjusted her bracelets before speaking. “I came with a traveling circus,” she said. “My dad ran it—it was small. Just one tent and only a few acts: clowns, jugglers, a fat lady, a scrawny lion, and me, the Luminous Cassandra: the One-Girl Ensemble.” She spread her arms dramatically and laughed. “It was terrible! The clowns weren’t funny, the jugglers were always dropping things, and the lion wouldn’t do anything but sleep. I was the only legitimate act, really—besides the fat lady, she was really fat—and one day, when we were performing for the unfortunate in Boise City, I was dreadfully bored, and I wandered out into the desert to explore. Ran away from the circus! Can you imagine? Then the storm came. When I came out of hiding, Boise City was gone. I stayed with one settlement for six years, until my powers made everyone nervous and I had to… er… go my separate way when I was sixteen. After a few days in the desert with no water, I thought I’d just die. Then Olivia and everyone found me, and now I’m never ever bored.” She turned to Asa. “It’s good to have a kindred spirit here now, one who understands the call of the spotlight. We’ll have to collaborate sometime.”
“I’d be happy to.” Asa lifted his Coke bottle in salute, his voice beginning to slur. I didn’t want to imagine what horrifying, infernal illusions the two of them could create.
Zo was next. She cleared her throat. “I was supposed to meet my family,” she said. “My dad had been a sharpshooter like me, but when he got a job in California, the plan was for me to stay with my uncle just outside Elysium until my dad called for me. Then, on my way across the desert, hunting… the storm came. When it cleared and there was nothing, I found myself face-to-face with monsters I’d never seen before, and all I had was my pistols. I was eight. They ran at me and I fired. I was prepared to die out there, taking them with me one by one. Then Susanah—”
“And me,” said Mowse.
“—and Mowse”—Zo smiled—“appeared and fought them off. Beside me. And then we found the others later, and they’ve been beside me ever since.”
Susanah was next. Mowse came and sat on her lap, and Susanah tried in vain to untangle her hair as she spoke. “I barely remember my real family,” Susanah said. “I was taken from my parents when I was three, and given to a foster family. There was no laundry in the home was what they said when they took me. Whatever that means.” She laughed a hard, bitter laugh. “Turns out, they were just looking for excuses to take Indian kids away from their families and civilize them somewhere. So it was boarding school for me