He turned back to the selection of potato chips.

No, you will not, Melanie assured me. I’ve carried heavier loads than this. You’ve let us get all soft, Wanderer, she added in irritation.

Sorry, I responded absently, bemused by the fact that she had used my name for the first time.

Lift with your legs.

I struggled with the flat of water, wondering how far I could possibly be expected to carry it. I managed to get it to the front register, at least. With great relief, I edged its weight onto the counter. I put the bag on top of the water, and then added a box of granola bars, a roll of doughnuts, and a bag of chips from the closest display.

Water is way more important than food in the desert, and we can only carry so much —

I’m hungry, I interrupted. And these are light.

It’s your back, I guess, she said grudgingly, and then she ordered, Get a map.

I placed the one she wanted, a topographical map of the county, on the counter with the rest. It was no more than a prop in her charade.

The cashier, a white-haired man with a ready smile, scanned the bar codes.

“Doing some hiking?” he asked pleasantly.

“The mountain is very beautiful.”

“The trailhead is just up that —” he said, starting to gesture.

“I’ll find it,” I promised quickly, pulling the heavy, badly balanced load back off the counter.

“Head down before it gets dark, sweetie. You don’t want to get lost.”

“I will.”

Melanie was thinking sulfurous thoughts about the kind old man.

He was being nice. He’s sincerely concerned about my welfare, I reminded her.

You’re all very creepy, she told me acidly. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to talk to strangers?

I felt a deep tug of guilt as I answered. There are no strangers among my kind.

I can’t get used to not paying for things, she said, changing the subject. What’s the point of scanning them?

Inventory, of course. Is he supposed to remember everything we took when he needs to order more? Besides, what’s the point of money when everyone is perfectly honest? I paused, feeling the guilt again so strongly that it was an actual pain. Everyone but me, of course.

Melanie shied away from my feelings, worried by the depth of them, worried that I might change my mind. Instead she focused on her raging desire to be away from here, to be moving toward her objective. Her anxiety leaked through to me, and I walked faster.

I carried the stack to the car and set it on the ground beside the passenger door.

“Let me help you with that.”

I jerked up to see the other man from the store, a plastic bag in his hand, standing beside me.

“Ah… thank you,” I finally managed, my pulse thudding behind my ears.

We waited, Melanie tensed as if to run, while he lifted our acquisitions into the car.