David

"Up, everyone!" The shout came from outside, the voice hoarse from too many days of dust. "Another day, another chance to keep breathing."

The words struck David like ice water. Keep breathing. He pivoted, his gaze cutting through the dim interior of their shelter to find Grace.

She lay curled beneath a threadbare blanket, her chest rising and falling.

He watched her sleep, her mouth open slightly as she struggled for clean air.

"Grace," he called softly. He knelt beside her, a hand gently shaking her shoulder, eyes scanning for any sign of distress.

"Morning, David," she murmured, voice small in the vast silence that followed the morning call. Her eyes fluttered open, glimmers of blue in a pallid face framed by matted, dirty curls.

"Time to get up," he said.

She nodded, a ghost of determination flickering across her features as she pushed herself upright. David's fingers lingered on her back, feeling the knobs of her spine through the fabric of her shirt.

David straightened his jacket and went outside. Ash fell from the sky like raindrops. The first Disaster had been over three years ago. Ever since the eruptions, ash had drifted down on them. Still, if the other disasters hadn’t followed, civilization might have survived. He looked up, seeking out the horizon—a line blurred by the ever-present haze of dust and despair. They needed a miracle, and in this desolate new world, miracles were in shorter supply than clean water.

The camp stirred, a cacophony of weary groans and rustling movements. Faces hollowed by hunger emerged from other tents.

David watched the Survivors, his own weariness a shadow that mirrored theirs. But he squared his shoulders, steeling himself. For Grace.

"I’ll get us the morning rations," he said, forcing a semblance of optimism into his tone. It would give him a chance to speak to the Monitor.

“I’ll get my own.” She covered her mouth with her jacket and coughed. “It’s on my way to school.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I can get your portion.”

She glared at him. “I can do it.” She tried to fight off another cough, but it erupted anyway, turning her pale face red.

Every cough was a jab to his gut. The eruptions had tainted the air with ash, and even now, years later, it clawed at their lungs, relentless. Her fingers trembled as they pressed against the fabric over her mouth, her breaths shallow and ragged.

Mornings were the hardest for her.

He should insist. But the moment she stopped being able to leave the tent and walk around by herself was the moment he knew death was stalking her.

And he had to remind himself she wasn’t a baby anymore. Almost eleven years old.

“Okay,” he said, giving in. “I’ll see you after work.”

“What about the meeting?” she said. “You’re the adult. You have to go.”

“I didn’t hear about it,” he said. “If it’s important, my shift manager will send me.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but then she shrugged. “All right.”

Grace turned for the school. David stood a moment, watching her, and then Jed came to a halt beside him.

“How’s the hand?”

David had forgotten about it. He flexed his fingers and examined his palm in the gray morning light. “Pretty good. Grace branded me.”

“Guess she owns you now,” Jed replied.

David glanced at him, and his lip curved up in a half smile.

The last tent in the village disappeared as the path sloped downward toward the quarry. David had planned to speak with the Monitor first, get permission to skip his shift.

That plan ended the moment he reached the foreman’s post.

“You want the morning off?” The Monitor looked at him with flat, impassive eyes. “Why?”

David hesitated. He couldn’t exactly say, I need to hunt down a thief because she’s making my life miserable.

“Personal reasons,” he said instead.

The Monitor let out a short, humorless laugh. “Everyone here’s got personal reasons, son. You work, or you don’t eat. Get to the pit.”

David clenched his jaw, but arguing wouldn’t change anything. He had no choice but to head to the quarry, frustration burning through him. Fine. He’d find her later.

The queue for rations stretched longer than usual, a sluggish line of exhausted people.

A girl jostled him as he reached for a ration, nearly knocking him aside.

Jed nudged him. “It’s her again.”

David turned sharply. And there she was—the girl in the red scarf.

He’d been looking for her. Watching. Waiting.

"Hey," he snapped, his voice cutting through the morning haze. "Get in line."

She turned to face him. A low hood, a face mask, and a scarf concealed her features, so that even after a year of antagonizing each other, he had no idea what she looked like. Only her dark eyes peered out, rimmed with black lashes and narrowing in a challenge. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she snatched not one but two satchels from the bucket.

David’s fingers twitched. Not this time.

"It’s one per person," he said.

"So you keep saying."

She smirked. It wasn’t visible behind the scarf, but he saw it in her eyes. That unbearable, taunting glint.

His patience snapped. He lunged, grabbing for the satchels clutched in her arms.

She twisted away, fast as a striking snake.

"Thief," he hissed.

Her arm shot out, elbow slamming into his ribs.

David grunted, staggering back a step, then grabbed for her scarf. His fingers snagged the fabric, yanking hard—

She spun toward him, bringing her knee up.

The impact shot pain through his thigh, but he didn't let go. He wanted to see her face.

Her breath hitched—panic, or fury, or both—and she ripped herself away, leaving the scarf in his grip. Her hood slipped, exposing dark, tangled curls and sweat-slicked skin. For a moment, her eyes flashed to his, dark irises rimmed by black lashes, high cheekbones contouring her brown skin, and his stomach did a funny tumble.

Then she lunged at him, fist swinging.

Reality crashed down on him, and he caught her wrist, twisting it hard. "You like stealing, huh? Think you can just take whatever you want?"

Her other hand clawed at his face. He ducked, jerking her arm behind her back. She got her fingers around the scarf in his hand and yanked it back.

"Enforcer!" he bellowed. "She’s stealing—"

A crack split the air.

David barely had time to register the Enforcer’s baton before it slammed into his shoulder, knocking him sideways.