“Have you started work yet?” I ask her. Judging by her clothes and state of mind, I would say no, but figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.
She shakes her head. “No, tomorrow. We arrived the night before last, and yesterday they showed us around and had us sign some paperwork. I’m assigned lot 3.”
I nod. “That’s where most of the newbies go. You’ll be fine. Keep your head down and work hard, and no one will bother you.”
“Have you found any?”
“What?” I’ve been trying to brush my clothes off the best I can while we walk.
“Any relics? How cool would it be to find one!” She squeals excitedly, grabbing on to my arm, and I can’t help but beam back, her energy contagious.
“Trust me, it’s not as exciting as you’d think. Who knows, though? Maybe you’ll be lucky.”
She seems excited by the prospect as we enter the cook site and are handed our allotted bowl of stew. Stew might be too generous of a word for the slop that’s congealed in the bowl, but it’s more appealing than anything I had in the dunes, and my stomach grumbles at the stench. I gesture towards a table in the back of the tent, and Sage and I sit opposite each other.
“So,” Sage asks, in between a mouthful of food, “I’m guessing having a bath here is out of the question?”
I laugh, and I’m glad I decided to spend the evening with Sage. Laughter is rare here, and I’m thankful for any occasion that makes me smile. “Smell that bad, do I?”
Her face flushes. “No, no, that’s not what –”
“I’m joking, it’s fine. Give it a day and you’ll be looking like the rest of us.” I hold up an arm and shake it around, watching as dust clouds up and sand falls to the bench beside me.
“Can’t wait.” Sage rolls her eyes. “Glad these places are only temporary.”
I hum my assent. We finish our meals, and I listen to Sage talk about her family, the bakery, and her village. She tries to prod into my background a little, but when I don’t offer much, she’s happy to fill the silence, and I’m happyto listen.
We change into our sleep shirts when we return to our tent and crawl into bed.
“Aurelia?” Sage whispers from below me.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t think you’re a criminal.”
I stare at the canvas roof of the tent above, scattered with holes big enough to see the night sky. “It’s okay. Wouldn’t change anything if you did.”
“I’m glad we’re roommates, for what it’s worth. For however long.”
A smile spreads across my face in the darkness. “Me too, Sage. Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
Sage and I become inseparable from that night on. She manages to sweet talk one of the guards to switch to my lot and we work side by side for the next two months. We go to every meal together and stay up late through the night gossiping about the overseers and guards and any other news we picked up during the day.
It’s the best two months I’ve ever had in the Traps.
When we hug goodbye on her last day, tears flowing down our faces, she makes me promise to visit her at her aunt’s place once I leave. I wordlessly nod, knowing full well I’ll never make it out of the camp to fulfill that promise.
The first night she’s gone, I lay awake, the silence and stillness of the tent unnerving me, the loneliness like a weight crushing me.
Birds, on occasion, will fly across the desert carrying their latest prey in their mouths, and I’ll take a second to pause whatever I’m doing to marvel at their freedom. Once when I was working, a sound startled a bird and it dropped the fish it was carrying right in front of me. The fish was still alive, thrashing and flailing in the sand. I poured out my entire water canteen over the fish, hoping to save its life, but it was a futile attempt. The fish rapidly dried out and died.
Sometimes, I feel like that fish in the sand, floundering and desperate. Every once in a while, a wave splashes through bringing me life, laughter, and conversation, and I’m whole again, breathing easy in the water. But the water always runs out, and I’m once again left alone to struggle, wondering when it’s my turn to die in the sand.
Chapter 11
Elia
