Chapter 20: The Others
We have little choice but to stumble out of our hiding place. There are too many of them with weapons to try to make a run for it or to even use my slingshot. We stand up with our hands in the air.
“I’ll be!” laughs a hunter. “Pilar, you’re the best tracker alive!”
“My goddaughter can see what others miss,” the elderly woman states proudly. “Broken branches, footprints in the dirt, torn leaves—all of that stuff and more!”
“Who are you?” Pilar asks us.
“We were hunting,” Royce says calmly. “We were about to carve the bear when we heard you and thought you were soldiers, so we hid.”
Pilar eyes him suspiciously. “We’ve never seen you in these parts.”
“And you don’t look like us,” the elderly woman announces. “You’re the others.”
There it is—the ugly word I hate that claws my ears and separates all of us in this world. How do they know we’re others and not them, I wonder. Then I realize that even if we’re not dressed in our silver jumpsuits, we look well fed with our teeth taken care of and skin with a healthy glow. These people have to fight for anything they get—including medical care and scraps of food.
“Why would you privileged ones be in our neck of the woods?” asks the elderly woman with suspicion.
“We wanted to camp, but it would take too long for a permit,” explains Royce, still calm as can be.
“Camping?”
“Yes, but the bear unfortunately found us, so I killed it.”
“You’re lying,” Pilar declares.
“Look, keep the bear but let us go,” Royce says.
“I don’t think so.”
“We’re not doing anything bad to you,” Royce insists,” In fact we’re giving you food. Why don’t you just let us go?”
A whole new group of rag-tag hunters comes into view. The horn had called to them and here they are, looking hungry and fierce. I count about eight of them and an involuntary breath escapes my mouth. We’re up against eighteen of these hunters now.
“What do we have here?” one of the newcomers says.
“These fancy ones are trying to pull one over on us!”
“Really?”
“Yep,” Pilar responds. “They’re lying about why they killed the bear.”
“Killed the bear?” the tallest and thinnest man asks excitedly.
“Look over there,” Pilar says, tilting her head in the direction of the dead animal.
The tall man gives a whoop of joy. “We’ll be eating good tonight!”
“Let’s start carving up the bear,” one of the newcomers suggests.
“What’ll we do with them?” another hunter asks, pointing at us.
“Turn them in of course,” the tall man expresses.
“Sonny,” Pilar says to a boy of about ten, “go get my dad. Papi is at the house. Tell him to bring the contraption.”
The contraption? I wonder. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good and apparently it will lead the guardians to us.
As the bear is carved, Royce, Peter, and I are forced to sit down on the ground as two people with rifles guard us.
“What’ll we do?” I whisper to Royce when the two guards seem preoccupied with what’s happening to the bear meat. They ask that some be set aside for them.
“We’ll think of something.”
“It’s hopeless,” Peter comments, his voice in a panic.
Royce frowns. “It’s never hopeless.”
“But it is. We’re doomed.”
“Stop it, Peter, stop being negative.”
“But—”
“Royce is right—we can’t give up,” I state. “There’s got to be a way out of this.”
“What’s all that whispering about?” one of our guards retorts. “Shut your traps.”
Silencing ourselves, I glance at Royce who seems lost in his thoughts. I can almost see Royce’s brain going a million miles a minute. He’s trying to figure out how to get us out of this with as little danger to me as possible. In the unlikely event that I am this Supernova, a shot to me could cause an explosion. He can’t risk that happening and has to think of a way of us escaping without bullets flying all over the place.
“Hey, you,” sneers Pilar who indicates Royce as she leaves the bear and comes towards us.
His right eyebrow shoots up. “Yes?”
“I bet you think you’re so much better than us, right?”
“I don’t think I’m better than anybody.”
“Of course you do,” Pilar insists.
Royce shakes his head. “You don’t know me.”
“I do.”
Royce keeps shaking his head. “You don’t.”
“It’s not hard to see who you are.”
“Oh?” Royce lets out. “Who am I according to you?”
“Just look at you all good-looking with everything in perfect place—I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful specimen.”
“I’m not beautiful,” snaps Royce, deep irritation in his voice, “and I’m not a specimen—I’m human just like you.”
“Nope! You’re not just like me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You get fed on the regular, right?”
“Yes, but—“
“You have medical care, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“You get what you need, right?”
“I—”
“You live in a nice home, right?”
“But—”
“You don’t have to scramble for clothes, right?”
“No, but—”
“You go to a nice school with computers and a cafeteria, right?”
“Pilar—”
“Did I tell you that you could use my name?” she snarls.
“What’s wrong with calling someone by their name?”
“Like if you would ever bother to know my name if you weren’t in this situation,” guffaws Pilar.
“I would—”
“Please! Don’t lie!”
“Would you let me talk?!” Royce snaps. “Stop interrupting me before I can explain.”
“Why would I want to hear your excuses?”
“If you ask a question, it’s polite to listen to the answer,” states Royce.
“I’m not polite—especially to people like you.”
“People like me?”
“Rich ones who never look at us except to order us around.”
“There you go assuming about who I am.”
“I don’t need to assume—I know you and your kind.”
“You’ve probably suffered at the hands of those on the other side,” Royce murmurs quietly, “but I’m not like them. I’m really not.”
“Right!”
“I’m not a jerk,” Royce insists. “I’m much more like you than you think.”
“You’re not! You’re not anything like me.”
“But—”
“You’ve got food, clothing, and things.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you’re not just like me, are you?”
“Pilar—can I call you by your name? Is that okay?”
She hesitates before answering. “Okay,” she grumbles. “I’ll allow it for now.”
Maybe Royce will make some inroads with her. The best thing for Peter and me to do is to not say a word.
“Pilar, I hate uppity jerks as much as you do,” he says soothingly, his voice as smooth as honey.
“Do you?” Pilar snickers sarcastically.
“I really do.”
“Your parents must’ve taught you differently from all the other ones on your side.”
“My parents are dead,” Royce murmurs quietly.
The tough shield over her face softens. “Gee—I’m sorry—I—I’m sorry.”
“They died when I was a little kid. Do you still have both of yours?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“You’re lu
cky—much luckier than I am.”
The temporary truce erupts as her face hardens again. “Don’t talk to me about luck.”
“Pilar—”
“How did your parents die, rich boy?—don’t tell me all their money couldn’t save them.”
“They were murdered,” Royce explains quietly.
“Murdered?”
“They were killed.”
“Why?” Pilar asks, her face softening again.
“They were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s rough.”
“So you can see, I didn’t grow up with everything at my fingertips.”
Her face shuts down again. “Still, you grew up with a lot.”
“But I didn’t grow up with what was most important.”
I can absolutely relate to what he’s saying. For the first time, I feel closer to him than to Peter.
“So you would’ve picked your parents over the conveniences you grew up with?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Really?”
“I would happily pick having nothing if I could have my parents back. Wouldn’t you if you were me?”
I know what I would choose.
“Yeah, I would,” Pilar blurts.
Royce nods. “Of course.”
“I guess you’re not so bad.”
“I hope not.”
“No,” Pilar expresses in deep thought. “You don’t seem to be like other rich kids I’ve seen.”
“I’m more like you than you think.”
Pilar eyes him carefully with suspicion. “You’re good,” she hisses.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re good with words.”
“What do you mean?”
“You almost had me going,” Pilar retorts. “You’re trying to tangle me with your words, but your parents are probably alive and well in some mansion.”
“Pilar, my parents are really gone. I wouldn’t be lying about something like that.”
Pilar shakes her head and grunts. “Do all the girls fall for you where you’re from? Do they look deep into your dark eyes and fall for whatever you’re telling them?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t fall for a pretty face. Where I’m from we have to keep on our toes and not get fooled by appearances,” Pilar retorts, turning to me. “I’m curious, though, why do you go for wuss over there instead of him?” She points to Royce. “If you fall for someone, you might as well fall for the brave one.”
Royce’s dark eyes intently sweep over me.
Peter speaks up for the first time. “I don’t appreciate you calling me a wuss! You shouldn’t—”
“I call them as I see them.”
As Peter opens his mouth, Pilar points her rifle at him. He abruptly flattens himself on the ground.
Pilar chuckles heartedly. “Just as I thought.”
“You must enjoy intimidating people,” I interject.
Pilar nods nonchalantly. “Yep.”
“And just for your information,” I blurt, ”the three of us are friends. I’m not with either of them.”
“I’m good at noticing things—that’s why I’m a tracker, and I can tell you’re closer to the wimpy one than the gutsy one.”
“I’m not with either of them,” I repeat dryly.
“Suit yourself but if I were you, I would pick the guy with the warrior’s look in his eyes.”
“I’m a warrior too,” blurts Peter, growling at Royce whose eyes are still on me.
“Right!” guffaws Pilar. “I know warriors—he’s one and she’s one,” she points at Royce and me, “but you’re a great big, wussy guy.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” snaps Peter.
“Tino’s here!” yells a voice.
“Stand up,” Pilar orders us.
“What’s all this ruckus?” a slight man asks as he is nudged towards us. The rest of the group of hunters steps over too. “Who are they, and why did you get me out of my house?”
“We found them hiding in the woods, Papi,” Pilar states. “We need to turn them in.”
“Turn them in?”
“Yeah.”
Tino pulls out a cell phone. My heart plummets as I imagine what’s going to happen next.
“You sure?” Tino asks.
“What do you suggest we do with them?”
Tino’s eyebrows come together in pensive thought. “You’re right! Besides, the guardians will give us good money for them—three of them!” Tino gushes excitedly.
“Please don’t,” I blurt. The elderly woman with the horn eyes me carefully. “Don’t turn us in.”
Examining me closely, the elderly woman’s sight stays firmly on me. “You look familiar,” she states.
What if she recognizes me from all the reports on T.V.? I tell myself not to panic as I turn away from her to talk to Tino. “Please, let us go.”
“Why should we?” Pilar asks.
“Because we’ll be in a lot of trouble if you don’t,” explains Royce. “Why not just take the meat and let us go?”
“Listen here, pretty boy,” Tino blurts, “we were given this contraption to report anything strange.”
“Yeah, you know what they’d do to us if they found out that we didn’t report you?” asks Pilar.
Meanwhile, the elderly woman has moved from her position to keep dissecting me. I want to push her away, but I realize I have to show restraint.
“Why do you want to report us?” Royce asks. “You don’t even like the guardians.”
“No but we have to do what we have to do.”
“You don’t have to snitch us out.”
“We’re not snitches!” snaps Tino angrily.
“It seems like you are,” Royce announces, baiting him.
“Don’t call us snitches,” the tall man demands, furiously.
Royce folds his arms in front of him. “Then don’t act like them.”
“It’s our duty to report you,” states Tino, his fingers punching the buttons.
We are in deep, deep trouble.
“Tino, put the stupid phone down,” demands the elderly woman.
“What?” he asks, surprised.
She strides to Tino and opens her palm in front of him. “Give me the stupid thing.”
“But Meggy—”
“Give it to me,” she demands.
He grumbles harshly as he places the cell in her hand.
“Meggy, what’s this about?” asks a puzzled Pilar.
“A miracle!”
“What did you say?” asks Tino.
“A huge miracle!” the elderly woman gushes excitedly as she rushes to me and smiles broadly.
“What are you talking about, woman?” an elderly man asks.
“She’s the one we’ve been waiting for!”
“The one?”
“Without a doubt!” The elderly woman’s eyes don’t leave my face.
“What are you talking about, woman?”
“The prophesy is true!”
“Meggy, get a hold of yourself and tell us what’s going on.”
“She’s the Supernova!”