My gut clenches. Adele should be here.
“There was another Wildetown,” Feve says, leading me between the rows of tents, past a young boy (clothed in just a tiny skin around his torso) chasing an even younger boy (buck naked). Their mother is chasing both of them, a tub of water standing nearby. I guess kids run from bath time here, too.
“What happened to it?” I ask through my mask.
“Nothing,” Feve says, using his non-baby arm to help a struggling old man to his feet. The man nods at Feve and we keep walking. “The Wildes abandoned it when we formed the Tri-Tribes.”
“The all-girl tribe,” I say.
Feve looks at me curiously. “They’ve told you about our history?”
“As much as they could,” I say. “But it’s easier to understand now that I’m seeing it in real life.”
He nods, swings the child into both arms in front of him, rocks it gently. “The first Wildetown wasn’t as well-hidden or well-protected. This place is almost impossible to find, even if you know where to look.”
I remember how my jaw dropped when we squeezed through what looked like an impossibly small opening in the rocks that surely led to nowhere, only to find a canyon so large it could, apparently, fit the peoples of three tribes in it.
“This canyon is much larger than the one the Wildes used to live in. There are almost three thousand of us.”
“Is that enough to win the war?” I ask, ignoring the stares of a group of children who are laughing and pointing at me. Then, just as we pass them, I crouch down with my hands held out like claws and go, “Rawr!” and they run away shrieking.
Feve raises an eyebrow. “Get the children on your side and you’ll do quite well here,” he says, before going back to my question. “Not nearly enough,” he says. “Not with the firepower the Glassies have. Do you know anything about those weapons they have? The fire sticks?”
I almost laugh, but I don’t want to insult him, nor do I mean to. It’s just crazy that these people are living so primitively they don’t even have a basic understanding of guns or electricity or any of the things I always took for granted. Heck, even the moon and star dwellers understood technology, even if it wasn’t always readily available to them. But these people, they’re happy if they have food and water and each other. Is that so wrong? Is that a reason to kill them?
My almost-laugh turns into a clenched jaw. If anyone can get to Lecter, it’s Adele.
I slip a hand under my mask and massage the tension out of my face, answer the question. “We call them guns,” I say. “They shoot small pods of metal—we call them bullets”—I raise my thumb and forefinger to show him the approximate size—“at speeds so fast they’re invisible to the human eye.”
“Are they magic?” Feve asks, and I think he’s joking, but his eyes are dark and serious.
“Uh, no. Just technology. Like the glass dome. Like the trucks—I mean, fire chariots.”
Feve stops. “This girl, Adele…will she be able to help us?”
I want to believe. I have to believe. “Yes,” I say. “She will help you.”
~~~
I’ll be staying with Feve’s family until they can find me something more suitable. I feel awkward at first, as his wife, Hela, prepares a bed for me, but soon I’m holding his kids and they’re grabbing at my mask, playing with it, and I feel right at home.
It’s the safest I’ve felt since arriving on the surface.
After a day that was longer and more traumatic than most, the soft skins and blankets suck me in, and, hoping Adele’s found a place to sleep, too, I drift away to the muted coughs and babies’ cries and whispers of a camp at rest.
~~~
Shouts shatter the night. I claw at the blankets, drowning in them, trying to get to the air. A sliver of light flashes into the tent and I remember where I am. New Wildetown. Guest of the Tri-Tribes and Feve’s family.
Did I dream the shouts?
One of Feve’s babies starts crying, and I catch a glimpse of Hela picking him up, bringing him to her breast to feed. “Shhh,” she whispers.
“What happened?” I say.
“Feve went to find out,” she says, her eyes barely visible in the dark.
I scramble to my feet and out the door, into a brighter night, the stars twinkling through the top of the canyon, a long rectangle of glittering night sky. The clouds have moved on.
Sucking a filtered breath through the mask, I hear the shouts again, arising from the direction of the secret entrance. Too far to make out the words or the voices. I run in their direction, past the tents from which there are more babies crying and mothers shushing them.
And then I see them: A group of people, men and women, shouting, arguing.
“We should kill the Glassy baggards ’ere and now,” a woman’s voice says. I identify the speaker immediately. Skye. Her back is to me, but to her left I see Circ, holding a torch, and Siena, too. And on her right, Wilde and Feve. “I’ll do it myself if I have to.”
“Skye, please, we need to talk about this.” Wilde says that, reaching out to calm her friend, but Skye slaps her arm away.
“We’ve talked enough. Did the Glassies just talk to the Icers? Ha! They squashed ’em like ants.”
“Where’d you find them?” Feve asks. It’s clear he’s not asking Skye.
I move closer, craning my neck to see past Skye, to see who they found, and who did the finding.
Hawk’s face comes into view. What’s he doing away from his post? I wonder. “They were wandering in the desert,” he says. “Dead on their feet. If we hadn’ta found ’em when we did, they’da probably died.”
“Good riddance,” Skye says.
I’m getting closer now, almost able to see past Skye, where there’s a shadow on the ground, maybe two shadows. A voice freezes me in place, widens my eyes. Cracked and tired, but a voice I’d recognize anywhere. “Please. We’re just trying to find our friend.”
In a burst I rush forward, shove my way between Skye and Siena, and look down.
Impossibly, he’s there.
My half-brother and best friend.
Roc, staring up at me with the most surprised eyes ever.
And beyond him: Tawni, breaking into the biggest smile in the world, a flash of blond hair framing her face under the torchlight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adele
I’m tired. Which isn’t a surprise. Sleeping in a cold, metal drawer meant for dead people doesn’t lend itself to the most restful kind of sleep.
At the same time, however, I’m energized. Even as my eyes are trying to close and my feet are screaming at me to “Sit down!” my blood is running hot and fast through my veins. Because things are going so right at the moment. I’ve got my chip, my new name, a friend named Avery cleaning a street somewhere, and, most of all, a chance. A mission that was originally meant to be bordering on suicidal is suddenly full of possibilities.
And I can’t fail. I can’t. I don’t know how.
The first step is to get my bearings. And who better to help with that than my new friend. My stomach growls as I make my way back the way I came, down twenty-sixth street, left on J. I’m hungry, but not desperately so. I clench my abs and try to swallow the dry, thick spit in my mouth. Another seven blocks and I’m back where I started, where I first met Avery and got the directions. I head in the direction he went with his cleaning machine, stopping at each intersection to look both ways, see if I can spot him.
I reach the army medical building, past which the city ends at the main gate, the one with the double doors and airlock system. The edge of the dome rises up from the desert floor. Thick glass separating me from Tristan.
I turn around, retrace my steps, and pick a random road to turn onto. People move down the streets: some wear white like me, which I’m starting to realize means they’re from the Lower Realms, moon dwellers and star dwellers; some wear camo uniforms, the army obviously; and others wear gray and black. What is their role, I won
der? Most of the people enter glass-walled buildings, and I watch as they scan their wrists on a transparent plate before pushing through metal turnstiles, almost like scanning your ticket at the underground train stations in the Tri-Realms.
I come to a long line of people, waiting patiently to enter a door. The hearty aroma of cooked food wafts out. My stomach grumbles again. I stop to watch.
Every so often someone exits, and another person is allowed to enter, scanning their wrist on the glass plate at the door. A red light flashes and then turns green. The man at the door gestures them inside. Red light flashes. Turns green. One out, one in.
I’m about to move on—my main goal is still to find Avery—when I see something different happen. Red light flashes. Stays red. “You’ve already received your ration for today,” the burly man at the door says.
“C’mon, I’m still hungry,” says the kid trying to get in. He’s younger than me, maybe fourteen.
The big guy looks at a screen in the side of the scanning machine. “You’ve tried this before. Twice.”
“No,” the kid says.
The man points to the machine, taps the screen. “Two warnings in the system. And you’re supposed to be in school.”
“No,” the kids says again.
“There are no third warnings,” the man says.
“Stay away from me,” the kid says, backing away. “I’m just hungry. I just want more food.”
“Everyone shares equally,” the man says.
And then I hear them. Heavy footsteps from behind, running. I glance back. Two soldiers, dressed differently than the others I’ve seen so far, still in camo uniforms but in shades of blue. Carrying guns, but even their weapons look different. And yet so familiar…
My father slumping to the floor, the Taser having sent a shock of electricity through him.
The Enforcers turning on me, on my mother. Taking her. Taking them. Taking us.
The beginning of everything.
“No!” the boy screams behind me, and when I turn to look, he’s already halfway down the block, charging away. He’s got a good lead on the…I don’t have any other word for the soldiers than the one I know from before…Enforcers, about to turn the corner. Maybe he’ll be able to find a place to hide, to escape…
He looks back as he cuts sharply to the right…
Slam!
Another Enforcer comes out of nowhere, cracking something long and thin over his head—some kind of a stick. The boy flops to the ground, still. So still.
The other two Enforcers catch up, lift his rubbery body, and carry him away.
No one in the food line even turns to watch. None of them say a damn thing.
Where are they taking him? To a place like the Pen in subchapter 14, a kid prison for troubled youths? All for what? Asking for more food when he’s hungry, skipping school? If those offenses warranted imprisonment, every kid I grew up with would’ve been hauled away.
What kind of city is this? Rations, food lines, bland colors representing your standing…
“Hey,” a voice says from the side, jerking me around.
Avery. Thank God. “Hi,” I say.
“Did you get your chip malfunction sorted out?” He leans on his cleaning machine.
“Yeah, yes, thank you,” I say, still too shocked at what I just witnessed to think of anything more.
“That happens sometimes,” he says, motioning to where the boy had just been beaten. “Your first time seeing it?”
I nod. “How often?” I ask.
“Once, twice a week,” he says. He lowers his voice. “Usually to moon and star dwellers, since our rations are less than the others. Every so often the hunger makes someone snap, but most of us just learn to tighten our belts and ignore it.”
“Less?” I say.
He doesn’t answer, just looks at the food line. “Haven’t you eaten since you’ve arrived?”
I’m getting into dangerous territory. “Uh, yeah, but I guess I, uh, just never noticed.”
He looks back at me and I do my best to meet his gaze. Try to look honest. “My daughter’s over there, in line,” he says. “She’s on her break. Do you want to meet her?” He motions to a girl wearing white like me and Avery. I only now realize she’s watching us closely.
“Sure,” I say.
We walk over together and Avery makes the introductions. Her name’s Malindra. Lin, for short. I shake her hand, meet her eyes, which are a mesmerizing mixture of blue and green. With each movement, her reddish-brown hair bounces in curls on her shoulders. She’s got a nice, warm smile, like her father, although she doesn’t really carry any of his other features.
“I’ve got to get back,” Avery says, as two blue-clad Enforcers eye his unattended machine as they pass by. He rushes off, leaving us alone…with all the other people standing in line.
“No line jumping,” someone yells from the back.
“Oh, I’m not—” I go to say.
“Shut your mouth, we’re just talking!” Lin yells back sharply. I gawk at her, her smile temporarily falling, but coming back just as quickly. “Have you had your afternoon ration yet?” she asks.
Uh, what? “No,” I say.
“C’mon,” she says, pulling me away from the line. “The food here sucks anyway.”
I let her drag me down the street. A guide is exactly what I was looking for.
When we cross the road that leads back to the main gates, I hear a commotion to our left, somewhere behind the army medical building. “What’s going on?” I say aloud, my thoughts spilling from my lips.
“Who knows, who cares?” Lin says, still pulling at my arm. “The army’s always up to something. Supposedly protecting us from the big, bad savages, or some such nonsense.”
I stop, pull back, listening. It sounds like something big is happening, or has already happened. The mission, I remember, the one Meaty-Bun and Skinny-Bun were talking about when they entered the morgue. Just beginning or just ending?
“Can we check it out?” I ask Lin.
She looks at her watch. “I’ve only got twenty minutes before I have to get back to work…” she says. “Ah, screw it, let’s go.” She releases my hand and we stride quickly toward the building and then past it. “Why the interest?” she asks. “You got a boyfriend in the army or something?”
“Not exactly,” I say, smashing my face to a fence that’s blocking our progress. She does the same, grabbing the metal links with her fingers. We crane our heads far to the right, trying to see what’s happening at the gate.
Vehicles are pulling in, one at a time, soldiers spilling out. Blood on their uniforms, on their faces, on their hands. Backboards being carried to the trucks, loaded up with bodies, hauled away. “What the hell?” I say.
“Looks like the natives might’ve got the best of them this time,” Lin says beside me. “There aren’t usually this many casualties, but it’s happened before. Once. Maybe twice.”
“What?” I say, even though I completely understand what she’s saying. She thinks they’ve been fighting the natives, but does she mean the Tri-Tribes? “Who?”
She shrugs. “I dunno, they don’t tell us much. Only that we’re safe and that the army is doing everything they can to protect us from the savages. But it’s not like the natives are just going to roll over and let us take their land. Nor should they. It’s all a load of rubbish if you ask me. We should just leave them alone and maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
My mind is whirling. If there are this many Glassies…I mean, earth dwellers…dead, then how many “savages” died? Skye and Siena and Wilde and…oh, God, Tristan. Could he have been in the battle? Here I thought I was the one taking the risks, going inside the dragon’s lair, when really the dragon was outside hunting. A pit widens in my stomach.
“Can we climb this fence?” I say, looking up, already sticking a foot between the links. I have to see if they’ve got any prisoners, if any of the dead bodies are the enemy. (Or Tristan.)
“Onl
y if you want to get shot,” she says, grabbing my arm. “It’s a restricted area; they won’t hesitate.” Her eyes are serious enough that I step down.
But I can’t just do nothing, can I? I try to swallow, but my throat’s too dry.
“What’s this really about?” Lin asks, ducking slightly to catch my gaze.
Tristan. It’s about Tristan.
“Nothing,” I say.
~~~
She has to go back to work, so we agree to meet later on. I promise to answer all her questions. But I can’t, can I? She doesn’t seem to have any love for the army, or the way the city is run, and she is a star dweller, or at least used to be…but what if she turns me in? I barely know the girl, and as feisty as she seems to be, if she gets her mind to do something, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll do it. It’s a risk but…
I could really use an ally.
Before Lin left, she took me back to the food line. I’m halfway to the front but my appetite is long gone, replaced with the dark hole in my gut. Who did the soldiers fight? Did they discover the spy cave used by Hawk and Lara? I cling to the hope that whoever killed so many soldiers didn’t suffer any deaths. Or maybe it was those wild beasts, the Killers. Yeah, maybe the soldiers ran into a huge pack of them. I’ll take anything other than Tristan fighting.
I’m at the front of the line, having forgotten to watch the person in front of me to see what they did. Scan your wrist, do it quick, like you know what the hell you’re doing. I lower my arm to the glass. Will this work?
A red flash. Please turn green, please, please, please…
Green!
The burly man, who somehow contacted the Enforcers to arrest the hungry boy, motions me inside. I resist the urge to spit in his face.
Inside, it’s way too quiet to be a place where people eat. Food involves conversation, and conversation involves stories and laughs and some level of fun. Even in the Pen it was like that, although the fun sometimes included fistfights and insults about mothers.