Free E by Kate Wrath Page A

the other hole
springs a dingy hand pump. 
    Miranda pushes the hose further into the tub, places a stopper in
the drain, then goes to the pump and begins to work it. 
    My eyes widen as the hose sputters and spits almost-clean
water.  "Running water?"  I say, even though the answer is
plain.
    "Rain barrels," she says.  She finishes with the
pump, then grabs a brown sliver of soap that is stuck to the table next to the
bucket, her fingers scraping it from the surface.  She holds it out to
me. 
    I hesitate, looking at the soap in her hand.
    "Don't worry," she says simply.  "No one will
bother you."  There is some small kindness in her voice.
    "Thanks."
    She shoves the soap at me and disappears through the curtain.
    I watch the water sputter into the tub.  From the other side
of the curtain are voices, murmuring, blurred.  Who knows what they’re
saying?  I turn away from them, and strip off my clothes, laying them
neatly next to the bucket, taking care that nothing spills from my pockets.
    I climb into the tub, lowering my body slowly into the
water.  My skin prickles.  The icy metal tub pulls every bit of warmth
from the water, and the water pulls the warmth from my blood and bones. 
My teeth clatter together, compelling me into motion despite the longing to
linger. 
    The piece of soap rubs into a thick lather in my palms.  I
scrub every inch of my body, examining its smooth, pale skin.  The water
becomes cloudy.  My hair goes rubbery but clean after two washings. 
It squeaks between my forefinger and thumb.  I emerge from the tub, water
dripping, feeling like a new person.  I've shed my skin, grown into something
new.  The question is, what?
    I reach for the towel on the rake by the mirror, but freeze. 
At first, I actually think there is someone else in the room with me.  I
should be seeing an old woman, hunched over from years of hard labor and broken
by illness-- that's how I've felt for so long.  The girl who stands before
me, though, is young and slim.  She's long-legged, built athletically with
broad shoulders on a compact feminine frame.  Her face is striking,
encircled in umber hair.  Long, dark, narrow eyes are surrounded by a
flutter of thick lashes.  Pale skin contrasts delicately-shaped pink
lips.  She's not an old woman at all.  Who is she, then?  I've
forgotten her.
    I stare at her and wonder, for the first time, if she has family
somewhere.  Friends.  Does someone miss her?  Surely someone
misses a girl like that.  She and I-- this girl and me-- we have only one
thing in common.  I trace my fingers along the mark on my forehead. 
She does the same.  We stare at each other, as though we may come to some
understanding.
    My stomach rumbles and I remember the eggs.  I dress quickly,
then comb my fingers through my hair, pulling my bangs down over my
forehead. 
    I have to steel myself to leave the bathroom.  I’m not used
to other people.  Something about going back to them is frightening, even
if part of me looks forward to the company.
    Oscar has saved me a plate of eggs and toast.  "Apollon
and Jonas are going outside the wall today," he says as I sit on the sofa
to eat.  "Maybe they'll let us come."
    I look from Apollon to Jonas to Miranda.  She's still working
with her pliers, but her gaze flicks across to me.  It’s not
hostile.  Something else.  She shakes her head slightly.
    "What's outside the wall?"  I ask.  I already
know part of the answer.  There's a twenty foot stretch where we can go if
we want.  This is an open area, a no-man's-land.  Beyond that,
everything is restricted, except for the road.  If we wanted to-- if we
were brave enough-- we could travel via the road to another Outpost or
city.  But surely that’s not what Jonas and Apollon intend, so why do they
go outside the wall at all?
    "Plants," says Apollon.  "Herbs.  We
gather them for Neveah."
    This catches my interest.  If I go with them, I can learn
which plants are useful, where