Above the Storm

“You know I could kill you, right?”

Daniela stepped back from the edge of the cliff. She barely glanced towards the direction of the voice, too focused on searching the clouds of dust below them for the flurry of movement she knew they hid. Instead of a response, she hummed her acknowledgement.

“I could. If I wanted to.”

At her companion’s insistence, Daniela turned to the young girl laid out on a makeshift cot. She was tiny. The hard edge of her voice suggested a woman who witnessed too many horrors, but her lithe form was that of a fifteen-year-old.

Malnutrition, Daniela concluded to herself.

“Are you thirsty?” Daniela asked. She moved to her rudimentary water purifier and poured the child a small cup.

As soon as she approached the cot, the girl let out what Daniela could only assume was an attempt at a growl. The previous hours of vomiting had ravaged her throat, so the only sound produced played out like a pathetic, dry purr that grew into a cough.

Daniela rolled her eyes but stood patiently and waited for the girl to finish her attack. Chuckling, she thought of her old supervisor, Hattie Johnson, from decades ago. The woman scolded her for everything from personal grooming to chicken-scratch handwriting, but she especially hated Daniela’s bedside manner.

Too coddling, Mrs. Johnson said. They can tell when you have a favorite. Take care of them all the same or don’t take care of them at all.

If only the grayed nurse could see her now, treating someone damn near feral. Maybe that would have earned her one of the seldom coveted half-nods of approval.

Once the hacking calmed, Daniela reached out again. She half-heartedly smacked away the defensive girl’s claws as she helped her sit up just enough to drink. Daniela fought against the urge to shrink back at the fierce glare shot her way. The girl’s eyes were dark and barely visible among the mass of braids spilling from her head, but the locks did little to hide the venom.

Water drained; Daniela set the girl back into a resting position. She put the cup down, then resumed her watch of the barren land below.

“What are you looking for?” Her companion asked, the strength of her voice renewed.

“There’s a market of sorts that meets at the bottom of the ravine. I’m wondering if I could make it there and back before sundown.”

“You don’t think the dust storm will stop them from meeting?”

Daniela shrugged.

“If they can run a peaceful trade stall in Rakman Territory, then they must be smart enough to hold up against the elements.” Daniela paused, tilting her head as she considered the girl’s statement. “But you could be right. It looks pretty bad down there.”

The girl snorted, shuffling on the cot so that she faced Daniela.

“I usually am. Right. I’m usually right.”

“Yes, I can tell,” Daniela said, sarcasm lacing the words. “Especially with how right you are about discerning whether meat’s rotten or not.”

At that, the girl’s face soured, and she looked for a second like she might heave again at the mere mention of her last meal.

When Daniela first found her, she assumed the worst. Sepsis maybe, given the shortness of breath and fever-like behavior, something only treated by antibiotics she didn’t have. To her immense relief, the more she studied the girl the more obvious it became that she suffered from a, admittedly serious, case of food poisoning. Daniela at least had water to spare.

“What’s your name? It feels rude to refer to you as ‘girl’ is all.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll trade you. My name for information.”

If it were twenty years earlier, Daniela would laugh. What would she do with a girl’s name? And what information could she possibly have to hide? While she still didn’t have information worth keeping secret, Daniela observed the hollowness of her companion’s cheeks and the scars that littered her body. This girl reserved every right not to trust her.

“Alright. My name is Daniela. I’m from Phoenix. I’m… I was a m-“

“Not that,” the girl interrupted. “I don’t care about that.”

She suppressed the urge to voice her irritation and waited for the girl to continue.

“What are you going to do at the market? What are you looking for?”

“Oh that,” Daniela hoped her nonchalance conveyed her lack of malicious intent. “If I’m feeding two, I’ll need a sharper knife. I figure I’ll trade my way to someone with sharpening skills. I’ve tried before, but I-“

“What do you have to trade for it?”

At the question, she stopped a moment to go over her plan. Usually her kindness got her farther than her items. An intangible answer failed to appease her new friend though.

Finger tapping her chin, Daniela only wasted a few seconds more before answering.

“Medical knowledge likely. Maybe an ear too, if someone needs one.”

She caught out of the corner of her eye the girl twitching to cover her ears. She turned fully to face her companion again, both arms drawn in a placating move.

“No no. Metaphorically. If somebody wants to talk, then I’ll listen.”

The girl’s eyes shifted away, and Daniela saw her mouth metaphorically, testing out the words on her own tongue. The older woman considered explaining but felt she might only embarrass the girl further.

“And you think… You think that’s worth something?”

“Of course,” Daniela said. “Never doubt the power of sympathy.”

Unfurling her clenched fist, the girl scoffed and revealed a familiar heart-shaped locket.

“How did you-“ Daniela reached to her neck where the locket usually resided and found the space empty.

“Is this what you plan to trade? What is this worth?”

It was Daniela’s turn to scoff.

“Hardly anything. The material won’t sharpen into something useful. It’s only sentimental.”

The girl fiddled with the necklace more, figuring out the mechanism to unlock it. With a slight click, she split the locket in half and revealed the hidden picture.

“Who’s this?” The girl asked, a hint of genuine curiosity betraying her.

“No. I believe I’ve answered enough of your questions. Your name, mama?”

Pausing her exploration, the girl looked away into nothing. With a nod, she came to a conclusion Daniela wasn’t privy to.

“Kweb.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name. My name is Kweb.”

“Kweb?” Daniela questioned, incredulous. “All the names in the world, and your parents went with Kweb?”

With a huff, Kweb rolled back towards the cliff’s inner wall. She crossed her arms.

“I named myself.”

She mentally kicked herself and prepared a half-truth.

“I always hated my name growing up,” Daniela offered. “I wanted to change it.”

“Why don’t you?” Kweb asked. She continued to face away from Daniela.

“I…” Daniela let the syllable drag. “I guess I never thought I could. I envy your freedom to choose.”

“Whatever,” Kweb shrugged. “Tell me about the man in the metal.”

It took a moment for Daniela to remind herself of the picture in the locket. In it, a dark man looped an arm around a pale woman, both sporting lopsided and carefree grins.

“I’m not the girl in the picture.” Daniela gestured to her skin, quite a few shades darker than the woman in the photo.

“Who is she? Them?”

Daniela sighed.

“Who do you think they are?”

She expected Kweb to grow frustrated with the non-answer. Instead, the teenager scrunched up her nose and looked up. Her eyebrows softened.

“They’re in love,” she said simply.

Daniela waited for an elaboration. When none came, she decided to fill in the gaps.

“They’re in love,” she agreed. “They took this pic before they passed. The boy just bought a food truck, and the girl knew so many recipes. They spent their lives feeding the hungry.”

“... What food did they make?” Kweb asked, mesmerized.

“All kinds,” Daniela soothed. “Sandwiches on Monday and fajitas on Thursday. A different food each day of the week, except they took off on Saturday nights to relax.”

Daniela wondered if Kweb knew what any of those things were, having forgotten what separated a Wednesday from a Thursday long ago.

“I like them,” Kweb cradled the locket. “Did they die before the planet turned into a shithole? Did they die together?”

“Sure,” Daniela laughed without mirth. “Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘sure’?” Kweb shot up from her cot. She held her stomach and grimaced but kept going. “Did they die together or not?”

Daniela’s eyes went wide at the sudden shift in tone. Her arms crossed in front of her, and she avoided eye contact.

“I don’t know them. It’s just a story.”

Spluttering half-formed words, Kweb pulled the locket to her for closer inspection. She stilled. All at once, she let out a cry and threw the locket towards the cliff’s edge. If Kweb had been at full strength, Daniela doubted she would have ever seen the trinket again.

“You lied! You said- you lied to me!”

“No I- …” Daniela held her own arms tighter and took long breaths. She was the adult, Daniela reminded herself. If she had been in that position, what would she have needed?

The remedy escaped her until Daniela realized she never would have been in this situation. At Kweb’s age, Daniela’s tías reminisced about actual torrid love affairs, and her mother retold the story of meeting her father after every glass of wine without fail. Daniela never had to make up a fantasy of her own.

“I’m sorry,” Daniela said, strong and clear over the sounds of Kweb’s labored breathing. “You needed something to believe in, and I took that away from you.”

With a sigh, she uncrossed her arms and made her way to the locket. Scooping it from the ground, Daniela rubbed a bit of dirt off the silver then pocketed it out of sight.

Cautiously, she approached Kweb. Sliding down the wall of the cliff, she sat three feet away from her. Dangerous territory, given earlier murderous intentions.

She looked at Kweb again with fresh eyes. She saw a scared girl, who would be crying if not for dehydration.

“I… The truth is.. I had a patient. She pressed this into my palm so hard that I… I just took it. I stayed with her until her end. It was still early, you know? We didn’t know why people were dying, just that they were. And it was sad.”

She took another shaky breath.

“So I held onto her keepsake and watched her fade away. I didn’t even realize I was still holding it until the end of my shift. I didn’t check her chart and never figured out who she is- was. That’s it.”

“She died alone.”

“No,” Daniela cut in harsher than she meant. “I was there! She wasn’t alone. I was there…”

Her thoughts felt far away from her. Each time she tried to grab at a memory or a saying or piece of advice, it faded back into the mental soup of her mind.

“Why keep something so useless?”

Daniela had no answer.

“So that’s why you helped me,” Kweb continued. “You have a savior complex.”

“You know what a savior complex is but not a metaphor?”

Kweb shot daggers at her, and Daniela held up her hands again in submission.

“At least you have something,” Kweb said, picking at a thread on her pants before she snapped it off. “Fuck, what’s the point for the rest of us?”

Reaching a hand out slowly, Daniela patted the girl on the shoulder. Kweb tensed but said nothing.

“Finding a story you like and sticking with it I guess.”

They sat in silence.

“If I killed you, I would have rations to last… long enough.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

The sun went down. Daniela hummed an old lullaby, A La Nanita Nana, and drifted to sleep not knowing if she would wake.