Storm of Locusts

Chapter 27

I wake to the murmur of voices. Crack an eye open and look around. Mósí is still next to me, but she’s shifted to her human form, pedal pushers and flowered head scarf back in place. She’s curled up in her seat, knees to her chest and cheek resting against the window, sleeping. Ben is splayed out across the two seats in front of me, snoring softly. The conversation is coming from the cockpit, Aaron and Rissa whispering quietly to each other.

“It was just me and him for the first years after the Big Water,” Aaron says, voice low and quiet, barely audible over the sound of the engine. “As soon as I understood what it meant, the news reports and the TVs going out, I went straight to him because I knew he’d know what to do. But he didn’t. He was just as lost as me. We stayed in Joseph City for a while, but when the plague hit, we ran to Knifetown, to Bishop, same as the rest of them.” A mocking laugh. “Gideon had always been my protector, from the time we were kids together in foster care. More of a father figure than a big brother, I guess. I owed him better.”

“You did what you had to do to survive,” Rissa says.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I wanted to be top dog, prove myself. Maybe I could have found a way to challenge Bishop instead of . . .” His voice is briefly lost in the roar of the plane. Rissa asks him something. I don’t hear her question, but Aaron says, “No. Gideon was a thinker. He was never going to best me in a fight. He didn’t have that instinct, you know? He was always trying to save people.”

Gideon? The same name Caleb called the White Locust. Could be a complete coincidence. Gideon isn’t a common name in Dinétah, but Aaron said they had come from Joseph City. Maybe it was more common in the Mormon community, which meant that maybe the White Locust had Mormon roots. And then there was Aaron’s reaction to me asking about the White Locust. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence.

“Is he dead?” Rissa asks. “Your brother?”

“I dumped what was left of him in a grove of juniper just outside of the Wall. It’s as close to Dinétah as we could get without papers, without someone to sponsor us. Gideon was a quarter Diné, or at least that’s what his foster mom told him. I’m more like one-eighth, so they were never going to let me in. We thought about forging CIBs. People do, you know. But it wasn’t that. We wanted to go home as prodigal sons, not as fakes. But how could we if didn’t even know who we were, what our clans were? Foster care took all that away.”

Their conversation seems to die off in the darkness of the night. I’m about to sit up, feign a yawn, and join them up front to ask about Gideon, when Rissa says, “I miss my brother too.”

I can only see the two of them in silhouette from the light of the control panel, but Aaron reaches a hand out and rests it on Rissa’s knee. She covers his hand with hers, shifts so she’s leaning closer to him.

“I knew what he was doing was dangerous,” she says. “I should have told my mom. She would have stopped him. He would have listened to her. But I didn’t. I’ll always regret that. I’ll always wish I had said something. To Mom, to Clive. If I had, maybe Cletus would be alive right now.”

“Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. Maybe he would have done it anyway.”

She blows out a breath, nods without making a sound.

“We all carry sins, Rissa.” The tone of his voice is heavy with the surety of his wrongdoing. “Some carry a heavier burden than others, but none of us are clean.”

“You know, I grew up in the church, but I’m not sure I believe in all that sin stuff.”

“I have to believe,” he says, his voice intensifying, “because if I don’t, then there’s no chance of forgiveness. It’s the only hope I have.”

“There’s something wrong with the plane,” Mósí says in my ear, so close that I jump.

“Don’t sneak up on people!” I whisper-shout at her, but she just blinks at me, unconcerned. “What do you mean ‘wrong’?”

“The mechanism that keeps this vehicle aloft is failing. Imminently.”

“What?”

She flicks her head in annoyance. “Can you not hear me? Please go tell that bilagáana man flying the plane that we need to land.”

“He’s actually—”

She exhales, exasperated. Steps around me, slithering up the middle aisle until she’s at Aaron’s shoulder. “Your airplane is failing,” she says.

Aaron startles, veering the plane in a sharp left. We all scream, Ben tumbling from her seat into a pile on the floor.

“Who the hell are you?!” Aaron shouts. I’d forgotten he hadn’t seen Mósí in her human form.

“It’s okay,” Rissa rushes to reassure him. “She’s with us. Remember that cat? It’s a long story, but that’s her.” She looks back over her shoulder at me, as if asking for help. Then at Mósí. “She is a friend to the gods of Dinétah. She can . . . shape-shift.”

Aaron’s righted the plan, and now he turns to stare at Mósí. “A god?” he asks, voice awed.

“Better than a god. I am a Cat,” Mósí says. “But now, human child, you need to listen to me. See those lights below us? We need to land there.”

Aaron checks something on his controls, looks at a map I hadn’t noticed before. It’s our map. The one we traded with Mósí for. “There’s nothing there,” he says. “No cities or towns.”

“There is indeed something there,” Mósí counters.

“The old casino,” Rissa says, leaning over to look at the map. “Twin Arrows.”

I step up through the aisle, pausing to help Ben get back in her seat and then taking the empty one next to her. “What do you know about the casino?” I ask Aaron.

Aaron shrugs. “I’ve heard stories here and there, mostly about scavengers who tried to raid the place and never made it back. They say it’s haunted.”

“Haunted?” Ben squeaks.

“A good reason to avoid it,” Rissa says.

“And we don’t have time,” I say. “We’re already—”

“We will not have a choice,” Mósí says firmly.

“Bishop will come for us,” Aaron warns. “He won’t forget what we’ve done. He’ll track us down. Make an example. We’ve got to keep moving.”

“This Bishop person doesn’t matter. We are landing. I am just informing you of events that shall come to pass.” And with that she walks back to her seat, pulls the seat belt across her lap, and fastens herself in.

The engine sputters and, with a short burst of smoke from the propeller, all the electrical goes out.