Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy) by Susan Kim, Laurence Klavan Page A

to you is a compliment we do not deserve,” he murmured. “But as to the subject of our payment. May we possibly assume . . . ?”
    Levi nodded. “The balance will be paid in full as soon as you leave. With an extra half case of water thrown in.”
    He noticed with distaste that even though the mutant leader kept his gaze lowered, he couldn’t control his jubilation. Slayd was grinning openly. Now he got to his feet, his hand extended, but Levi remained where he was, his elbows propped up on his desk and his fingers steepled.
    “All of this is on one condition,” Levi said. “Will you and your people be ready for another excursion soon?”
    “Certainly,” said Slayd. “Can we also assume . . . ?”
    “I will raise the fee,” said Levi after a moment. “One half case of clothing, one of grain, and one of water.” He watched as a look of stunned happiness crossed the mutant’s animal face. The effect was both grotesque and comical. “But this one must be special,” Levi added. “I want you to use something different than the usual clubs and stones. This attack needs to be much more . . .” He traced something ineffable in the air with his pale hand and let the sentence hang, unfinished. “Do you understand what I mean?”
    The mutant smiled. Then the two shook hands.
    Slayd was escorted to the door. He was given back his knife, his bicycle. After checking to see that no norms were nearby, he pedaled back toward the variant camp miles away. Jubilant at the thought of the extra payment, he relished his victory over the clever and arrogant Levi. It would make for a good story to tell to the village elders that night, he thought.
    Back at the Source, no one saw him go. Not even Levi watched from his hidden window.
    He was too busy calculating his costs. True, he did not anticipate the bonus he had just promised to Slayd. Even so, in the long run, the terror he had purchased with a handshake would be a bargain even if it were two or three times the price paid. For fear was like fire, a powerful force that could sweep unchecked through a town and drive everything living from its path.
    And if all worked out as planned, that was exactly what was going to happen.
    The plume of smoke rose almost imperceptibly in the midday sky. Without even looking, Esther knew it was there. But instead, she pedaled harder and tried to keep her eyes trained on Sarah, who rode her purple bicycle in front of her.
     
    That morning, using a combination of guilt and begging, her sister had managed to talk Esther into taking part in the Harvesting they had both been assigned to. She even managed to find a bicycle for her. Resentful at having to work at all, Esther was nevertheless aware that she was down to her last warning, and any more work violations would result in an automatic Shunning.
    “Hurry up,” Sarah called over her shoulder, from far ahead. Her voice was anxious. “You’re going too slow.”
    But Esther found it difficult to ignore the signals, which had been coming all day. They had begun early in the morning and at least in Esther’s eyes, had become more and more insistent, reproachful. Helplessly, she peeked upward. Although she knew it was impossible, she was sure she could smell the far-off smoke, the pervasive scent of damp and rotted pine branches tossed onto a fire.
    It smelled like a rebuke.
    There had never been a day when Esther had not scanned the horizon for such signs. Long before the recent tensions in town and the growing ugliness between townspeople and variants, the secret code was how she and Skar had always communicated.
    The signals were few and simple, meant to convey only the most basic and crucial information:
    Meet me now. I am returning to my home. All is well. I need to speak with you. The situation is urgent.
    But Esther’s surprise visit to the variant camp had changed how she felt about her friend. She did not know why. All morning, she had been struggling to sort her jumbled thoughts