Rise

nineteen

"I GOT IT!" SARAH YELLED AS SHE CROSSED THE DOORWAY INTO the motel lobby. "I win!" Three girls darted after her, realizing they were a second too late. Sarah held the stuffed mouse in the air. It had only one eye, its red shorts missing a yellow button. The other girls tried to grab it out of her hands, but she stood on her tiptoes, holding it above their heads.

"They're in better spirits," Beatrice whispered to me. She folded a few of the shirts we'd found, pressing them into a duffel bag. "I don't think I can take much more of that screaming, though."

"Why don't you guys call it a night," I said, glancing outside. The sky was already a deep reddish pink, the sun sinking low behind the mountains. "You've got about fifteen more minutes of light. You should get your beds set up."

Sarah wandered down the hall, some of the girls following her, leaving to retrieve the blankets from the room where Helene slept. We'd been at the motel in Stovepipe Wells for four days, staying in the back section of the building that was set off from the road. The girls had made up a game that involved kidnapping, then hiding, a tattered stuffed animal they'd found. The first one to cross through the front door with it in her hand won. What exactly the prize was never was clear.

Clara stood behind the front desk, lining up a row of glass bottles on the counter. "There's ten in all," she said. "Should we leave some in case more people pass through?"

I went beside her, peering into the cabinets below the front desk. We'd found the supplies the rebels had left. There were bottles of water, dried fruit and nuts, and some clean towels and bandages. It couldn't have been more than three or four weeks since they'd stopped here on their way to the City. There were little signs of them still. Fresh footprints in the dirt, trailing around to the back houses. Someone had left a comb by an old mirror in the hall, the plastic clear of all dust. There was a gold locket I'd discovered, tangled in one of the towels, a tiny piece of red paper folded inside, my love to carry scrawled across it. I kept it with me, the chain rattling in my pocket. I couldn't stop wondering whose it was, where they were now, if they had been killed inside the City.

"Two bottles and some of the dried food," I said. "Now that the siege is over, I doubt anyone will use this stop. But better to leave some just in case."

Sarah and a few of the girls came back into the lobby, dusty blankets in their arms. They threw some down on the old couches, the cushions sunken in. Lena, a quiet girl with scratched black glasses, lay down on one, pulling the blanket over her legs. She reached for the plastic container of wrinkled pamphlets labeled HIKING IN DEATH VALLEY and WELCOME TO STOVEPIPE WELLS. She always read them before she went to sleep.

Bette pulled Helene along in the sled, moving a little too quickly through the narrow hall. "Careful," I called out. "Watch her leg."

Bette glared at me. "I am watching," she muttered. She helped Helene up, resting her bad leg on the piles of flattened pillows at the end of the couch. The swelling had gone down, but the skin was still bright pink. The bruising made everything look worse. Purple welts covered one shoulder. The side of her face was swollen, the gash on her forehead still raw.

"Do we have to leave tomorrow?" Helene asked, wincing as she lowered herself onto the couch.

Beatrice set down the folded clothes and pressed her palm to Helene's forehead. "You'll be thankful when we're finally in Califia. You'll have a real bed to sleep on and can rest all you like." She turned to me and nodded, as she had each time she'd checked Helene. These last few days she'd done it every few hours, making sure she hadn't gotten a fever, that the leg hadn't swelled any further, that there were no signs of infection. We were hopeful that the worst had passed.