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The walk is slow-going,but it’s hard not to feel invigorated by the little girl’s happiness. I haven’t spent a lot of time around children, and the ones I have had been sick and lethargic. This girl, though, is full of life.
“Zig, can you ask what the little girl’s name is?”
Zig turns to the man and says something before pointing to the girl. The man replies too quietly for me to hear, but Zig repeats it louder. “The girl’s name is Itzia, and this here is Aapo.”
“Tell him thank you.” I smile, then turn my gaze to Itzia.
“Itzia?”
She grins and walks toward me, slipping her hand into my free one.
“Oh man, I don’t think I can handle all this cuteness,” I mutter to Oz, feeling strangely overwhelmed.
He chuckles and squeezes my hand. “They’re all cute once they stop puking and pooping on you. Oh, look, here it is.”
My legs feel like Jell-O, waiting for us to get accosted. Instead, we’re met with smiles and waves as Aapo leads us through his small village to one of the houses. He ushers us inside, and I hear Zig swear before I see what he’s looking at.
“Fuck me.”
“What?” I look down at the table and see him running his hands over something that looks like some kind of radio. “Is that what you were talking about?” I ask Oz, who nods.
He looks at Zig. “Does it work?”
Zig flips some switches and shakes his head. “No, but I think I can fix it if Aapo here doesn’t mind me using this thing for parts.” He points to another broken radio, this one looking like it’s from the sixties, and starts talking to him.
I turn and look around the house, which is just one large room, and marvel at how simply they all live. If we hadn’t been doing it ourselves for the last few months, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible. But I’ve never been happier.
“Why don’t we go for a walk and leave Zig to it? I’m sure he’ll find us when he’s done.”
I let Oz lead me outside, where Itzia is waiting for us. She grabs my hand and leads me over to an older woman. I smile and wave at the small group as Itzia sits down on the ground and the woman starts braiding her hair. She might be old, but her hands move fast, and before I know it, Itzia’s hair is full of tiny braids. She looks adorable.
Once she’s done, she drags me over and pushes me to sit, making the older woman laugh. I shake my head and grin, but she’s pretty insistent. When the woman who did her hair indicates for me to sit, I do. I feel her fingers in my hair, unraveling the braids I put in myself earlier before she starts making fresh ones. I used to love it when my mom would play with my hair. I swallow down a lump in my throat. It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt like someone’s little girl.
A short time later, she taps my shoulder to let me know she’s done. I place my hands together much like Aapo did earlier and incline my head in thanks.
Itzia shows us around the village, taking us up to meet everyone. Some are a little standoffish, which is to be expected when strangers suddenly turn up out of nowhere. But most are warm and friendly. It gives me hope, even though they’d probably all turn on me if they knew what I could do.
Zig finds us a little while later, his face calm and relaxed.
“Well?” Oz prompts.
“All fixed. I sent a message to Apex using Morse code because it’s unlikely anyone in the government is watching for that. Now all we have to do is wait for them to reply.”
We spend the next few hours with our new friends. We eat with them, and even though I have no clue what they’re feeding us, it tastes amazing. Itzia falls asleep with her head in my lap as I stroke her hair, and it tugs at something inside me.
I never really thought about children, scared to pass my abilities on, which will happen if I have a girl. But the thought of having kids with Oz and Zig isn’t as terrifying as I thought it might be. If there is one thing I know, it’s how protective they are, and there is no way they would treat our child anything less than perfect.
When we leave, it’s already dark. We don’t usually venture out this late, but it was hard to tear ourselves away. It’s been so long since we’ve had contact with anyone besides ourselves. It was nice.
But I can’t help but worry that this little pocket of happiness we carved out for ourselves is about to implode.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Salem
“Do you think they got the message?” I ask as we make our way back to the plane.
