Weight of Ashes Read online

  “Mind your language.”

  “What? I can’t say ‘squitoes anymore?”

  “That’s not what I meant and you full well know that.”

  Walker returned to the trail and pulled up his pack, rotating his body so Marsh wouldn’t see the wet spots on his pant legs.

  “Loads of people say nacking. What’s the big deal?”

  “You need to mind your context. Not everyone is as easy living as those in our village. Mark my words, we will run into folks who will be offended by impolite talk of any kind and we don’t want to attract attention to ourselves. You must stay quiet and be invisible. That means no talking about the village. No mention of the Qyntarak. And no coarse language. We’re close enough now that we could run into someone at anytime.”

  “Fine, I get it. I’ll watch what I say.”

  “Good.” The old man started walking again. “And you pissed on your pants. Try to stop doing that as well. We’ll smell bad enough when we reach Chignecto.”

  Walker’s entire face flushed red, he could feel it, and he was thankful that Marsh was walking ahead of him.

  They arrived at the outskirts of Chignecto an hour later. Walker knew that Marsh had visited countless times over the decades, but it was his first time. He was dumbstruck by the spectacle of merchants selling roasted meats on sticks, clothes, antique trinkets, and scrap salvaged from the old machines of pre-Qyntarak society.

  Marsh tugged on his arm. “Come along. We aren’t here for the bazaar.”

  “I had no idea it would be like this. Look at all the people. It’s like a village festival.”

  Marsh squeezed the boy’s arm and narrowed his eyes.

  “Sorry,” Walker whispered.

  “Mind your context.”

  They pushed through a crowd of forty or fifty people milling around a dozen makeshift stalls. Walker tried to take in each face as it passed but was quick to avert his eyes when someone looked back. Beyond the bazaar, Chignecto teemed with humanity. Shelters of various states of permanence were packed tight along the road. Marsh pressed on, the click of his walking stick drawing the stares of a cluster of old women resting in the partial shade of a threadbare canopy.

  After several minutes of walking deeper into the settlement, Marsh stopped in front of a small metal building surrounded by weeds as high as Walker’s waist.

  “Watch this,” Marsh said. He took one step forward and a dog—or maybe a coywolf, Walker couldn’t be sure—lunged from the grass barking.

  Walker jumped back. Spittle flew from the beast’s dark snout. Marsh laughed and stood his ground.

  Through the barking, Walker heard the jingle of metal and realized as he grabbed Marsh’s sleeve that it was a chain. The dog stopped a foot short of Marsh, straining at the tether and snarling.

  From inside the building, a woman’s voice yelled out, “Elon’s fire, what the blazes is going on out there? If you kids are teasing that dog again, I’ll loose his chain, I promise you that.” The flimsy metal door flew open and a bull of a woman stormed out. Her wide shoulders filled the doorway. Her white hair, cut short, glowed against her dark skin. The menace in her eyes faded when they took in the sight of Marsh laughing at the dog. “Marsh Lapin, you old coot. Leave poor Jean alone.”

  “She started it.”

  “The two of you are fit for each other. Jean, to rest.”

  The dog looked at the woman, let out a whimper, and slunk back into the grassy weeds with a snort.

  “How are you, Moriya?”

  “As good as you’d expect. Come on in.” She disappeared into the building and Walker followed Marsh inside. Every available space was filled with scraps and fragments of old technology like what they’d seen for sale in the bazaar.

  “I see you haven’t cleaned up the trailer any since last time I was here.”

  “If you’d told me you were coming…”

  “You’d have locked the doors and pulled the shades.”

  “You might be right, but it’s good to see you.” Moriya slapped Marsh on the shoulder and pulled him into a hug.

  “This is Walker.”

  “Salut,” Walker said.

  “I wouldn’t say that around here,” Moriya said. “You’ll stand out like a one-armed porter. But welcome to Chignecto.” She stuck out her meaty hands, palms up, and Walker touched his palms to hers. It was a greeting they didn’t use in the village but Marsh had taught him about it on their walk.

  “This is his first time in Chignecto. We’re headed to Alma.”

  “Trouble?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “We’re getting too old for that kind of uncertainty.”

  “Speak for yourself, old lady.”

  “Watch your tongue, gray beard, or I’ll send you back out to see Jean.”

  Walker had never heard Marsh speak with someone this way. Moriya must have recognized the confusion on his face.

  “Marsh and I are old friends. No need for alarm there, pup.”

  Walker attempted an understanding grin but doubted he was fooling anyone.

  “I was hoping we could spend the night here and barter for fresh clothes and a wash before going into town. We brought pelts and dried venison.”

  “Aye, a sure thing. I’ll go borrow a storage bin and we can clear a space for you in here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Someday I’m going to come visit you to return the favor.”

  “You’ve been saying that for twenty years. I’ve stopped holding my breath.”

  “Fair enough,” Moriya said as she slipped out the door.

  “Who is she?”

  “Moriya’s an old friend from a previous life. And, more importantly, she’s someone we can trust. You can take your pack off here and relax.”

  Walker set the pack down, being careful to avoid disturbing the stacks of unfamiliar metal and plastic components. “Why do we need to buy clothes?”

  “To blend in. Alma’s hardly a fashion center but—well, you’ll understand when we get there. Our old clothes would stand out.” Marsh eased himself into a cracked leather chair, the only piece of exposed furniture in the place, and let out a long groan. “I’m going to rest for a bit. When Moriya gets back, help her with moving things.”

  Walker agreed and sat on the floor. Marsh started snoring in less than a minute.

  The old man didn’t stir when Moriya opened the door. She pointed to one of the piles near Walker. “Pass those things out to me.”

  They filled three bins that Moriya sealed shut and chained to the outside of the trailer. “Most the folks in Chignecto would sacrifice their left nut for you, but you still want to lock up your stuff.” She sat on a bin and patted the empty space next to her. “Have a seat, pup, and we can get acquainted while the old guy naps. How old are you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Blazes that’s young. I have socks older than you. Who are your parents? Anyone I might know?”

  “They were Claimers. They got pregnant without permission and were sent away on an expulsion ship a few weeks after I was born.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t remember them at all. I don’t even know what they looked like. Harry and Sugar were their names. Or are there names, I guess, if they’re still out there somewhere.” He pointed to the sky. “The village is the only family I’ve known.”

  “You listen to me carefully, Walker. It is not fine. Never forget your parents’ names. The Qyntarak have taken so much from us. We need to cling to everything we can, to the things that make us human.” She slapped him on the knee. “Let’s go wake the old man up and get some grub into the both of you. You must be famished.”

  Moriya took them to a cookhouse, a building with large chimneys belching smoke and big windows with the tattered remains of bug screens visible around the edges. She asked for three helpings of an egg-and-potato dish. The girl at the wood-burning stove had her head wrapped in a sweat-soaked piece of cloth.
She muttered something incomprehensible when Moriya said, “Put it on my tab, hon.”

  Walker looked at the food on its thin metal square. “Is this a tab?”

  Marsh and Moriya burst into a fit of laughter that drew the attention of everyone around them. With tears running down his face, Marsh said, “No, that’s a plate.” That made Moriya laugh even harder and Marsh had to set down his plate so he didn’t spill his food. His whole body convulsed while he steadied himself with his walking stick.

  “Come on then. Sit over here before tears start rolling down my legs,” Moriya said through the tail end of a series of belly laughs.

  They sat with their food at a wooden table with built-in benches.

  “What was so funny?” Walker asked once his curiosity had outgrown his embarrassment from being the subject of a joke he didn’t understand.

  “A tab is like a running bill. They keep track of how much I owe for the food I get here and I pay it off with money, supplies, or services.”

  “Saying to put something on your tab is an old expression to tell someone that you’ll pay later,” Marsh added.

  “You bought this food? You use money here?”

  “Yes, sometimes. I also barter my time.”

  “Moriya is quite skilled at salvaging and repairing old tech.”

  “Among other things,” she said with a wink.

  “I was expecting money in Alma but I thought here would be more like the village.”

  “It may have been once upon a time,” Moriya said, “but those days are long gone. Chignecto is more and more just an outskirt of Alma. A place for the poor and the disagreeable to settle down without sacrificing all of their dignity.”

  “Which are you?” Walker blurted out the question and immediately regretted it.

  “Walker,” Marsh snapped in a low voice.

  Moriya smirked. “It’s alright. I don’t mind an honest inquiry. I’m the latter by birth and the former by choice. I have what I need and I’ve got nobody telling me how to live. I can earn a bit of copper if I want and go into Alma for some sweets or some medicine, but I don’t have to. I’m free to stay right here and live my life without anyone bothering me.”

  Walker listened with saucer-wide eyes as Moriya described a type of freedom so different from the life of responsibilities and order that he knew.

  “And no one to look out for you when the sleet flies sideways.”

  “Listen to you with the old person expressions. Ah, I’ve missed you, Marsh. You should come visit more often.”

  The older pair stared at each other and Walker felt inexplicably out of place.

  “I always mean to,” Marsh eventually replied.

  “Well, let’s get you sojourners off to the shower house before the light leaves us completely. You smell like a pair of salmon leaped to the shore and rotted in the sunshine. I’m not sleeping with that in my trailer all night. I’ll see if I can get town clothes for you from someone back here. You don’t want anything from the bazaar. Nothing but cheats and swindlers out there taking advantage of the idiots visiting from Alma looking for a quick thrill out in the slums.”

  CHAPTER 7: WALKER

  In the morning, Walker was served his first ever cup of coffee. They didn’t have coffee in the village but Marsh spoke of it with a fond nostalgia that inspired him to sample it. His nose curled at the taste and Marsh gladly finished both cups before they bid farewell to Moriya with a promise to stop again on their return trip the next day. Moriya said she would give their “disgraceful” walking clothes to the neighbor’s kid to be washed and mended.

  They passed through the empty bazaar while the morning air was still cool and damp. Marsh asked, “Has anyone shown you pictures of what our cities used to be like?”

  “No. I’ve heard that they were full of people, like the bazaar was yesterday.”

  “That wasn’t even a large crowd. Chignecto is a squatter’s slum. Alma is a proper town, and it’s a speck compared to the cities. If you could have seen the cities before… Toronto, New York, Chicago. They were grand in their time. Millions of people. Staggering numbers of humanity living out their lives.”

  “What are they like now?”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve visited a real city but I’ve heard stories. Lots of people still there but they feel sparse because so many were forced off planet. I suspect it would be depressing for me to visit now.”

  “I’d like to visit a city someday.”

  “Why?”

  “It sounds like a good reminder of how much was taken from us. Of what humans could be again.”

  “It seems you have more of your parents’ Reclamation spirit in you than I realized.” Marsh laid his free hand on Walker’s shoulder, an awkward position for walking. “You’re still young, and there’s a lot you need to learn about the world. But far be it from me to dictate your destiny to you. If you decide you want more than village life in the future, I will help prepare you. For now, let’s try to get through your first visit to Alma without losing our chests. Do not utter another word of anything even smelling of Reclamation talk until we are back home.”

  Walker bobbed his head in understanding. The reference to the hole in Donovan’s chest was a blunt reminder of the risks.

  They continued downhill for an hour. They had traded their pelts and meat for copper and silver coins in Chignecto that they could use in town. The rough metal disks jingled as Marsh’s new satchel bounced against his hip. Walker was thankful to be free of the large pack and even more thankful that he wouldn’t have to lug it back up such an interminable hill.

  They passed another bazaar that was cleaner and more orderly than what they’d seen in Chignecto. “This all used to be government-owned land. Human government, I mean. If you can believe it, people used to pay to come sleep here in tents on the ground instead of their beds at home.”

  “Why?”

  “Recreation, I suppose.”

  “That’s bizarre.”

  “Perhaps. When the Qyntarak started to purge the cities, people fled to places like this to hide. They believed that places of low population wouldn’t be worth the Qyntarak’s bother. Several hundred people living off the land aren’t much of a threat.”

  “Why wouldn’t the Qyntarak just vaporize the place?”

  “It’s not their way. There’s a lot we don’t understand about them even after half a century, but they don’t appear to simply kill for convenience.”

  “Ho, travelers. Care for some chicken to speed you on your way?” The source of the voice was a wiry man bent over a grill like a branch burdened with too much fruit.

  “Ho, friend. We are well fed and content.”

  “All the best to you then. Safe travels.”

  When they were well out of earshot, Walker asked, “Is that really how people talk down here?”

  “Some, yes. We’re very close to Alma now so best to keep your questions to yourself the rest of the day.”

  They descended the final hill into town, and Walker’s eyes grew wide at the sight of buildings of the sort he had only ever heard about, the size of four or five cabins at least. They walked past the ruin of an even larger building, three levels high judging from its windows.

  “Look at that.”

  “Would you please refrain from looking like a baby doe?”

  “I can’t help it. I’ve never seen a building like that before.”

  Marsh chuckled at him. “If I’m not mistaken, that was once a hotel. It’s a miracle how much is still standing after so many years.”

  “What’s a hotel?”

  “I forget sometimes how much your generation has lost. A hotel has rooms you can rent to sleep in when you’re traveling. They used to be quite common.”

  Walker pointed to an assortment of clothing hung over the remains of a wooden railing, presumably laundry being dried in the sun. “There are people living there.”

  “Oh, no doubt. Desperation will drive people to lay their mat anywhere
that keeps the rain off. Some year, the weight of snow will crush that old building and the desperate people living in it.”

  Melancholy hung in the air between them as they passed the former hotel with its walls washed gray by the sea breeze and continued into town. Marsh nodded politely to a few passersby. Walker kept his head down and didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone.

  “I’ve seen pictures from here from a hundred and fifty years ago,” Marsh told him. “It looked almost exactly the same. Wooden houses along the street. Wooden fishing boats in the water. It’s remarkable, when you consider it. This place managed to survive rising sea levels, the arrival of the Qyntarak, the receding sea level, the mass displacement of humanity. Of course, back then—”

  Marsh stopped talking when he realized that Walker was no longer at his side. He turned to see the young man staring through a grimy window.

  “What is that?”

  “What did I say about looking like a baby doe?” Marsh hissed as he retraced several steps.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen anything like—”

  “It’s called a movie, or at least that’s what we used to call them. Like the videos we record with our tablets sometimes.”

  “But it’s not like that at all. I mean, just look at that. It’s like a whole other world.”

  “Yes, that’s a good way to say it. I haven’t seen a movie in… well, it’s been a very long time.”

  “How come you’ve never told us that things like this existed?”

  Marsh’s voice was barely a whisper. “Let’s discuss this later, Walker. There’s much you’ll learn and see as your education advances. No one has been keeping movies a secret from you, we just don’t have the resources for them in the village so they’re not part of our day-to-day conversations. Now, please, you need to discipline yourself or you’ll put us both at risk.”

  Walker kept his eyes on the screen through the dirty glass for several heartbeats before dropping his gaze and turning away.

  “Our destination is just ahead on the left. The Squid and Whale, a miserable place for the insufferably unscrupulous to kill off brain cells. And also the best place to find Polk.”