No one else bothered him or talked to him as he made his way back to the pathetic little cabin in which they’d slept the night before. He barely saw anyone at all, even in the peripherals. When he swung by the shack of Terry and Maria, they were sitting in ragged chairs just outside the front door. Maria had been bandaged on her arms and legs with something that looked like a bedsheet torn into strips. Terry gave Newt a half-hearted wave but then stared at the ground; Maria had her eyes closed. The message was clear: you’re not invited.
When Newt finally reached his own little hut, he saw Dante—composed, quiet, playing with a rock—sitting by himself on the grass-patchy dirt, the door closed behind him. A terrifying thrill of panic leaped in Newt’s nerves, knowing for certain that Keisha would never leave the kid alone like this. Newt sprinted for the door, ripped it open, saw with a sinking heart that it was empty. Even his backpack was gone. His journal. His Launcher. Keisha’s things. All of it. Gone.
He lost his balance, felt like he might faint. Leaning against the edge of the doorframe, he forced himself to breathe. Where in the hell had she gone? No, idiot , he told himself. Someone took her, took your things . He sucked in a lungful of air, then turned to Dante. Although he’d never heard the boy speak, he asked him the question anyway.
“Dante, do you know where your mum is? Your mom? Where’d she go?”
No answer, but the kid looked up at him with the saddest look of hope in his eyes. Probably just hearing the word mom had stirred something on the inside. Newt tried to shake some reason into his head, felt like the world was literally splitting apart around him, an earthquake, the big one, shaking the whole planet just to make things perfectly apocalyptic.
He made a quick run around the hut to see if she lingered somewhere close. Maybe she’d found a better home for them. Or was looking for one.
No, idiot , he chided himself again. He’d never once seen her—even though it had been only a day or so—never seen her let the boy out of her sight. He walked back to Dante, picked him up, hefted him in his arms until it felt comfortable.
“Don’t worry, mate,” he said. “We’re gonna find your mom.”
He allowed himself five seconds to consider in which direction he should go. Toward the Central Zone? Toward the gate that exited the Crank Palace? The latter, he thought. If for no other reason than it was closer and it’d be a good place to start canvassing his way back through the rings of huts and hovels and tents.
“Come on, kid. Let’s go.”
* * *
The anxiety cinching up his insides with each and every step proved to be almost unbearable. The maddening uncertainty of it was enough to make his heart strain for every single beat. He had to know where she was, what had happened, an outcome, any outcome. He almost dropped Dante with the anguish that consumed him. What in the bloody hell was he going to do if he didn’t find her?
But then, there she was.
It was a sight that did a strange thing. In the same moment, he felt an overwhelming relief even while his hopes for the future sunk to the depths of the Earth.
Keisha was fine, at least physically. Keisha was alone.
She walked along, her back to him, slowly and with a lurch in each step, about 200 yards or so from the gate in the huge wooden wall. She had Newt’s backpack strapped to her shoulders, her own pack slung in the crook of her left elbow, and with her right hand she dragged along a canvas bag full of what, he didn’t know. It had been easy to catch up with her because she moved at a snail’s pace, taking a strange little pause to pull on the canvas bag between every two steps, as if the stuff in there weighed more than she did.
“Keisha!” he yelled. She either didn’t hear him or pretended not to. He quickened his gait to a run. “Keisha! Stop!” She didn’t.
Newt caught up with her, went past her, until he was directly in her path and stood there, facing back, feet planted, holding Dante in front of him like an omen to shame her for the outrageous decision she’d made to leave. She saw them and stopped, although the expression on her face didn’t change—she looked exhausted and weary, void of emotion, sweat soaking her hair and skin.
“Keisha,” Newt said, trying to dampen the sudden anger he felt. “What on Earth?”
She dropped the end of the canvas sack she’d been dragging. Then she let the pack hitched in her elbow slide down her forearm and into the dirt with a puff of dust. Finally, with an air of defeat, she slipped Newt’s backpack off each shoulder and let it slump to the ground. Newt heard the clank of his Launcher, and had the intense hope that his journal was safely inside. She stood there, hunched over a bit, catching her breath.
“I knew he’d be safe with you,” she whispered.
The look that then came to her face melted away Newt’s anger. A purity of sadness. Her eyes, her mouth, her ears, her cheeks, they all dropped toward the ground, as if they’d just remembered the law of gravity.
“What’s going on?” Newt asked. “Where are you going? How could you leave Dante?”
The boy was squirming and Newt finally let him down. He ran to his mom, who overcame her madness long enough to drop to her knees and embrace her only living child in this world. She hugged him fiercely and he hugged her back. Tears poured from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She said it over and over.
Newt didn’t know what else to do but sit on the ground, himself. How was he supposed to approach this incomprehensible situation? What was he supposed to say? Nothing came to mind so he stayed silent, watched the reunion that never should’ve happened. She’d left her kid. Could her mind really have slipped so much, so quickly?
A minute or two passed. Nothing changed. Keisha finally broke the silence, with a sentence so unexpected and void of context that she had to say it twice.
“I have a cell phone.”
“Huh?”
“I have a cell phone.”
