by David Estes
“Aww, is Tristy getting emotional on us? Wah wah!” he says.
Now it’s my turn to attack and although Roc’s fast, he’s not fast enough. I spring to my feet and close the gap in seconds, knocking him flat on his back as he tries to twist away. Using my knees for leverage, I pin his hands over his head. “Who’s your master?” I say.
“Umm, Elsey,” he says, which makes Elsey giggle again.
Pushing one of my knees into his midsection, I say, “Wrong! Who’s your master?”
“Uhhh!” he groans. “Okay, okay, your dad, President Nailin, is my master!” he yells.
“Wrong again!” I shout, releasing his arms and dragging my knuckles across his scalp.
Roc yelps and tries to grab me but I’m already back on the other side of the cave. Elsey is giggling uncontrollably and even Ben is chuckling. I can tell Roc is mad, but one look at Elsey’s mirthful grin and his face softens and he joins in the laughter. I feel happy for another moment, but once again, I feel bad about it. Adele can’t be a part of it.
After gathering our few measly possessions—Roc’s pack and our swords—I start to stretch out my body, preparing for the long trek we have ahead of us.
“What’s that for?” Ben says, motioning at me as I touch my toes.
“I don’t want to cramp up after only ten miles,” I say, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. I really am bad at geography, and I wonder if perhaps subchapter 1 is closer to 26 than I think.
“I would agree with you if we were going to walk.”
“We can’t take the trains; they’ll be looking for us.”
“Not on our train,” Ben says cryptically. Evidently he’s not going to tell me any more than that, so I just let it go. Darkness is surrounding the cave mouth, casting eerie shadows across the opening. In this case, darkness is our friend, our co-conspirator. It’s time to go. We snuff out the dual torches we’ve been using to light our cubby hole and move out, Ben first, then Elsey, then Roc. I bring up the rear. It’s the most dangerous position and I want it.
Outside, the underworld is a mystical place. The thin day/night panels on the roof of the expansive subchapter 26 cavern are slowly dimming, veiling the city in the murky haze of unnatural twilight. Looking in from the outskirts, the city is quiet. From our vantage point, subchapter 26 appears to be just another silent moon dweller city. The reservoir that circles the city blocks us. We had to ford it to reach the cave—we’ll have to cross it to get back. The black water threatens us, but I’m not scared.
There’s not much that scares me these days.
Ben noiselessly slips into the water, leaving barely a ripple as evidence of his entrance into the man-made stream. He turns and extends his arms, wordlessly beckoning to Elsey.
“I jumped from much higher than this before,” she whispers. He is being an overprotective father. And she is being a young girl coming into her own. Elsey easily drops the three feet to the water, which churns silently and steadily clockwise, ceaselessly patrolling the city it provides sustenance to.
Roc is next and is less confident. He has never liked the water. After casting a furtive backward glance at me, he lines up to perform an awkward jump. I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself.
I kick him in the butt.
His arms windmill two, three times, and then he drops in a tangle of arms and legs. Because the distance is minimal, his splash is weak, albeit greater than his predecessors’. I follow him into the water, timing my jump so that the slight wave I cause hits him in the face just as he comes up for air.
Spluttering and wiping at his eyes as if they’ve been sprayed with Mace, he blubbers, “That was mature.”
“From the king of maturity himself,” I say, laughing.
Ben bobs up next to us. “Guys, I know it’s hard for you, but let’s try to take the next ten minutes seriously. This may be the most dangerous part of our journey.”
My face feels warm as I wish I hadn’t let Adele’s father down already. I have to do better. But it was fun.
Roc wipes the final drop of moisture out of his eyes and smirks at me. “Can’t you ever be serious?” he says.
“It’s not in my nature,” I say.
Ben and Elsey are already across the moat and scrambling up the rocks on the other side.
“C’mon,” I say, using the palm of my hand to splash Roc in the face. He lunges at me, but I am already gone, swimming underwater to the other side. I clamber out and wait for him. His slow and steady doggie paddle turns a thirty-second trip into two minutes.
When he gets to the edge, I reach out to help him up, tensing my muscles in case he tries something. He doesn’t. Instead, once on the rock slab outside the city, he says, “Nice one.” I don’t believe that he means it. His dark eyes are already plotting his revenge.
Rather than sneaking into the city to the train station like I expect, Ben and Elsey are working their way around the city, sticking tight to the edge of the bending reservoir. They are holding hands and she’s skipping along gaily, as if we are just out for an evening stroll. Again, the difference between Adele and her sister is stark. Roc and I begin a light jog to catch up.
As we walk, I admire the beauty of this subchapter, nicknamed Waterfall Cave for obvious reasons: Waterfalls of various heights and shapes spill down the sides of the enormous cavern, providing everlasting life to the reservoir and sustaining the city.
Strangely, there are no windows on the outside of any of the buildings along the city perimeter. Instead, bare rock stands like a fortress, sometimes rising ten stories high on heavy stone blocks. Maybe the occupants don’t want to see the beauty of the waterfalls, as they prefer to numb themselves with negativity. I don’t blame them—can’t blame them. I might do the same if I were them. I look away from the falls, feeling bad that I ever enjoyed their beauty.
As we approach the end of each city block, Ben slows and peeks around the corner and down the cross street. No one is out. I wonder what happened to everyone. Many would have died at the hands of star dweller bombs, but there would have been survivors, too, like us. I hope the star dwellers are treating them kindly, but I fear they are not. War brings out the worst in people.
We make it five blocks before Ben stops and turns around, his green eyes appearing gray under the dusky lights. “One more block and we head back into the water. Follow me exactly and don’t ask any questions.” I have a few questions, but I hold them in. Despite having only just met this man, I trust him. His quiet, calm demeanor is a welcome change from my father’s ruthless and anger-filled outbursts.
The final block flashes by and we approach another cross street. Ben takes his standard peek around the corner and then motions us to follow. We are halfway across the gap in the buildings when a throaty sneeze shatters the silence. Ben and I turn at the same time to see Roc standing frozen in place, eyes wide and white, his hand over his nose and mouth.
“C’mon,” I hiss. “Don’t just stand there.”
Too late.
We hear a shout from the city. I whirl around to see a half-dozen troops wearing sky-blue uniforms with bright yellow star insignias patched on the shoulders running toward us. Star dwellers. They have guns and we are sitting ducks.
Roc cries out and starts running. I wait for him to pass me before I chase after him, preferring to defend the rear. Maybe I’m not a born leader like Ben, but I can fight.
We get around the building without being shot at, probably because the troops know they can pick us off one by one on the open slab between the city and reservoir. Pushing Roc and Elsey behind him, Ben barks, “Tristan—I’ll take the first three, you get the last three.” I jerk my head down in a quick nod. He knows what I can do, and I know what he is capable of. But we still need a miracle.
Although we haven’t run far, I can already feel the heat of the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My muscles are tense and slightly shaky, but not in a bad way. I am ready. I was born for this. I’ve trained for this all my life. This i
s our world. I slide my sword out of its sheath.
It’s not always good to be fast. The fastest star dweller trooper rounds the bend first, wrongly assuming that we are still running out in front of him. Before the guy has any idea what’s happening, Ben’s knee is thrust in his midsection and he’s sprawled out on the rock, wheezing. The next one should be more prepared, but she’s not, and evidently Ben has no qualms about hitting a girl, particularly when she’s carrying a gun and trying to kill us. He takes her head off with an uppercut that will leave her senseless for hours. I am starting to think he might take out all six on his own.
But he runs into trouble on the third trooper, who realizes something isn’t right. Rather than barreling around the corner like his friends, this guy leads with the black nozzle of his gun, which is blindly pointed right into Ben’s chest. With a grunt, Ben grabs the nozzle and thrusts it downwards at his feet. The guy pulls the trigger.
Boom!
As close as I am to the gun, its roar echoes in my ears, momentarily deafening me. However, I don’t need to see Ben’s face to know he’s hit. His mouth is agape and his eyes are closed as he continues to grapple with the guy with the gun. Even in the dim lighting I can make out the glossy sheen of blood spilling from his leg.
I have to help him.
I don’t have time.
The final three troops—my responsibility—charge around the corner after hearing the gunshot. Two girls, one guy. Despite the favorable gender ratio, I don’t relax. I’ve seen what Adele can do. Perhaps there are other moon and star dweller women who are similarly capable. Perhaps they are all that capable. Probably not—Adele is amazing—but still, I don’t underestimate these women.
They are all in a cluster—one in front, two on either side and behind—which is good for me. It makes them a single target rather than three. The one in front wants to shoot me. She takes aim at my head while running at me. I anticipate the explosion and dive for the stone slab.
POP!
The gunshot sounds dull and thin to my deafened ears, but I know I avoided the shot because I don’t feel anything. Not even a pinch. Just a twinge of pain as my forearms and then hips and then back skid across the stone. I come out of the intentional roll at full speed, ducking under my attacker’s gun, which she tries to jab me with. I am too close to use my sword, so I crash straight into her, rocking her back and into her two friends.
We go down in a heap on the ground, me on top, then the shooter, then her two friends. If we were a sandwich, the shooter would be the meat in the middle, or the cheese perhaps. I’m the top layer of bread and her friends are the bottom crust. Apart from a few bruises and scrapes, everyone in the sandwich is unhurt, so I push to my feet and kick the metaphorical cheese in the head. Her eyes roll back and her tongue lolls out as she tumbles off the pile.
The other two were so surprised by my attack that they’ve dropped their guns. I pick up one of the weapons and aim it in their general direction. They raise their hands above their heads while still lying prostrate on the rock. Their eyes widen as they see me—really see me for the first time. They know who I am; at the end of the day, whether I like it or not, I’m still a celebrity.
We don’t have time for prisoners, so I move in close and give each a moderate-strength tap on the head with the butt of the gun.
My job finished, I spin around and survey the scene before me. It’s not good. Ben is on the ground, clutching his wounded leg and bleeding from the side of his head—his ear I think. A gun lies discarded a few feet away, but out of his reach. The last remaining soldier has his sword out and is waving it wildly at Roc, who stands in front of Elsey with his own sword, protecting her from the onslaught. Roc’s a maniac, growling between bared teeth and blocking each attack with a fervor I’ve been trying to get out of him for weeks. He’s a man possessed.
As I consider my options, I watch as Roc blocks another sword stroke and then flicks his wrist, rapidly slipping his own blade around his opponent’s weapon, slashing him on the hand. The guy cries out and drops his sword as blood spills from his mangled thumb. Dashing forward, Roc lands a hard kick to the guy’s gut, knocking him onto his back. I’ve got to hand it to him—Roc looks amazing, a mere shadow of his former timid self.
But he’s not done yet. He strides forward, his face awash with fury, his sword raised high above his head.
With no time to think, I rush ahead, closing the distance in three long strides. Roc thrusts his blade to the ground and I dive.
Clang!
My hearing returns just in time to appreciate the full extent of the impact of metal on metal, as I slap Roc’s blade away from the downed soldier.
From the ground, I look up at my best friend. Roc stares back at me with horror and anguish, his teeth no longer bared, his eyebrows no longer fierce. All strength sapped from him, he’s just a scared teenager again. “I’m…I’m sorry,” he says weakly.
“Roc, it’s okay. You were just doing what you needed to.”
“But I…I didn’t need to kill him.” His brown-skinned face is ashen, appearing paler than I have ever seen it.
“You didn’t.”
“Only because you…” He trails off.
“It doesn’t matter how,” I say. “It’s over.”
From beside me on the ground, the soldier sucks the air sharply through his teeth, grimacing in pain and clutching at his severed thumb. “What are you going to do with me?” he asks.
In one swift motion, I snap my elbow across his skull, delivering another knockout blow. He slumps over and becomes still.
I stand up and take Roc’s sword, which is dangling precariously from his loosened fingers. I don’t want him to lose a toe when he accidentally drops the blade point-first onto his foot. Closer to him, I can see him trembling slightly, his body’s reaction to the burst of adrenaline he received during the fight.
I place a hand on his shoulder. “You did well, my friend. You were amazing actually.”
“But I almost…”
“He was trying to do the same to you,” I say.
“Roc,” a tiny voice says from behind him.
Elsey is wide-eyed and serious, her brow furrowed, her lips bunched and tight. As soon as Roc turns, she rushes to him, throws her thin arms around him, pulls him to her. “I owe you my life,” she says solemnly.
At her words, Roc’s face finally relaxes and his body goes slack. He hugs her back. He’s going to be okay.
“I need to help Ben,” I say.
“Father?” Elsey says, her head popping up.
“I’m okay,” Ben says, lifting a hand to his mangled ear, which is still bleeding heavily. “We don’t have time to linger.”
“You need medical attention,” I say, kneeling down to inspect his leg. The bullet entered his skin just above the knee. I search for an exit wound but there isn’t one. “The bullet’s still inside you.”
“No—I’m fine. There will be time for that later. More troops will be here any second.” His face tells me he’s not fine, but he is right. We have no choice but to keep going.
“Okay, let me help you.”
“I’m fine,” he says again. I think he’s saying it to convince himself—like a self-motivation sort of thing. It seems to work as he manages to push himself to his feet, favoring his uninjured leg. “Follow me. Hurry.”
Elsey clutches her dad’s side as he limps toward the reservoir. She doesn’t ask if he’s all right, just takes his word for it.
With no other choice, Roc and I follow in their wake, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t stumble. Ben stops at the water’s edge and gazes into it. I wonder what he’s doing. Has the loss of blood affected his mind?
He dives into the water headfirst.
Chapter Three
Adele
The first two hours are fine. We maintain a light jog, trying to use our relative health to our advantage. Tawni stumbles once when she trips over a stone, but I catch her arm and we keep going. No one dies. I c
onsider it a victory.
Although our fitness levels are improving since we left the Pen, we are still in no shape for an eight-hour run, so we eventually slow our pace to a hurried march. Tawni’s long strides force me to take two steps for every one of hers. Her white ponytail swishes from side to side, like the ticking spindle on a clock. Ticking away the minutes on our lives.
Halfway into the third hour, Tawni says, “Uh-oh.” It’s the first thing either of us has said, as we are concentrating on our breathing. It’s not the first thing I hoped to hear out of her mouth.
“What is it?”
“I have a headache.”
“It might just be a headache,” I say.
“It’s not.”
“The symptoms are too early.”
“You can’t predict these things, Adele. Three hours is just the average. Plus we didn’t leave right after we drank the water.”
I know she’s right. Since I’ve known Tawni, she’s never complained of headaches. It would be too much of a coincidence that she gets one now. I don’t believe in coincidences.
“We have to go faster,” I say.
We start to jog again, even though we both know it’s not sustainable. A half-hour later my legs are on fire and I can’t seem to swallow enough air to satisfy my hungry lungs. A silent drumbeat begins to thump in my temple. A headache. I don’t say anything. Just keep jogging.
“I need to stop for a minute,” Tawni pants.
I pull up short and look at my friend. She’s not doing well—that much I can see. She’s breathing even heavier than I am and her face is knotted with pain. “Any new symptoms?” I ask.
Tawni shakes her head. “Just the headache, but it’s getting worse.”
“I’ve got one, too,” I admit. “But it’s not bad yet.”
“We need water.”
