by David Estes
I punch his arm and stand up. “For which I am glad,” I say. “I’ll get the grub.”
After taking Roc’s and Elsey’s orders I go and retrieve the food from the counter, balancing all three plates on one arm like a waiter, while toting three mugs of water with the other hand. “Bon appétit,” I say, dishing it out.
“You’re good at that,” Roc says, winking. “If this whole rebellious-son-of-the-President thing doesn’t work out, you’ve definitely got a future as a servant in the Sun Realm.”
“And you can become a comedian,” I retort.
For a few minutes Roc and I manage to cease our normally nonstop banter as we strive to accomplish the same goal of stuffing our faces. As we eat, we listen to Ben and Jinny discuss the next few days.
“After we arrive in the subchapter, we’ll head straight to the Big House to settle in and get the lay of the land,” Ben says.
“The Big House is the code name for the place we’ll be staying,” Jinny explains for our benefit.
“Right. Hopefully Anna and Adele will arrive shortly afterward and we can have a big family reunion.” At that, Elsey’s eyes light up, but she can’t speak as even she’s forgone manners in order to fill her belly, and her mouth is full, her cheeks puffed out as she tries to chew.
“We’re hoping we’ll get a few minutes together before all the VPs are ready to begin the peace summit.” I’ll drink to that, I think, taking a big gulp of my water. It feels so surreal that I haven’t hung out with Adele in days after having gone through such an emotional two days by her side.
“Then what?” I ask, licking the last bit of mashed potato off of my finger.
“Then we pray for the best,” Ben says.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adele
The star dweller generals listen patiently as my mom explains what happened. I expect looks of shock: wide eyes, open mouths, dropped jaws—something. Instead, they just stare with unreadable expressions and pursed lips.
The only one who reacts is General Baum, the one who’s a member of the Resistance. She’s older than my mother, perhaps by five years, but is in fantastic shape, with strong, sculpted arms and legs that boast years of athletic endeavors. Sort of like my legs. Strong and capable and far from ladylike. Her aging brown hair is peppered with gray, but it’s cut short, like a boy’s, so it’s not that noticeable.
Her eyebrows are raised and her knuckles white on the table. The exact opposite of the other generals who look almost indifferent. When my mom finishes, she rests her hands gently on the table, waiting for a response. The tension in the room is palpable and I have the urge to reach out and try to touch it, as if it’s something solid in the air.
Finally, one of the older generals, a gray-haired man who looks almost fifty, leans back with his hands behind his head. “This doesn’t change anything,” he says.
General Baum slams a fist on the table and looks like she might jump across and throttle him. “Doesn’t change anything? Are you cra—”
One of the other generals, a woman with long blond hair and perfectly smooth skin, silences her with a finger on her lips. Shhh! I can almost hear her say, although she makes no sound. Instead she mouths, They’re listening, and then points to the ceiling. I look up, half-expecting a huge pair of ears to be hanging from above.
I glance at my mom and I can see her eyes are wide and serious. The blonde starts writing frantically on a piece of paper in front of her, as the old general continues speaking. “Honestly, I’m not sure what you expect us to do with this information. So there was a spy. You took care of him, so that’s the end of it.”
The woman finishes writing and passes the note to my mother. Tawni and I read over her shoulder. The sun dwellers are listening to every word. They have our families. They’ll kill them if we don’t cooperate. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but if Brody had found out…
My heart beats faster as the pieces fall into place. The unwillingness of the generals to listen to reason; the way they used the sun dweller weapons to attack the Moon Realm; this crazy three-day deadline: the Sun Realm—President Nailin—is controlling it all. And on the ground was the puppet master: Brody. Now that he’s gone it will take the Sun Realm time to put another spy in place. We have a narrow window to act.
My mom’s head stays down and she starts writing a note.
The other general keeps speaking as if nothing is happening. “But it doesn’t change the fact that the Moon Realm is not willing to cooperate with us. In less than three days we’ll have no choice but to declare war on the moon dwellers and use every resource at our disposal to crush them.”
I read my mom’s note before she passes it across. We will do our best to protect your families. God bless. She slides a separate note to Baum. You stay here. Do what you can to help them. She nods.
“Fine,” my mom says. “I understand your position, even if I don’t agree with it. For now, we’ll wait and let the peace process run its course. If the Moon Realm won’t join us, we attack.” Her words are cold, harsh, believable. My mom’s a good liar. I never would have thought it six months ago.
A final note from the woman general. Godspeed and good luck.
My mother nods. The old general says, “Good. This forum is dismissed.”
Everyone rises and we leave.
* * *
When we exit the meeting, darkness has fallen on the Star Realm. My mom has a flashlight, which cuts a triangular arc through the gloom, but because the lighting here is so poor even during the day, my eyes adjust quickly to the dark.
“We need to leave right away,” Mom says.
“Shouldn’t we tell Dad—”
“There isn’t time. He knows about the spy, but the rest can wait. And some things are better told in person.”
“I can’t believe they took their families,” Trevor murmurs. For the first time I see compassion in his expression. Perhaps it was always there and I just couldn’t see it. But he’s a different person to me now. Not a spy—a star dweller. And so he cares about the families of the star dweller generals. He’s a good person, regardless of his faults.
“I can,” my mom says. “Nailin is a heartless, soulless demon who will do anything for power.” Her words are filled with fire. “The only reason they couldn’t get to me is that I was brought in much later, as an outsider. Plus, they thought they already had my whole family imprisoned.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes as we follow my mother through the narrow alleys of the subchapter. Occasionally I hear one of the homeless lying against the walls mumble something in their sleep, or snore. We pass through the alley where Mep and his followers tried to steal our stuff, and I look up at the window I clambered through what feels like years ago. Through the dark, I think I see the outline of legless Mep sitting on the sill, his arm raised, giving me a thumbs-up. I might be seeing things, but I return the gesture. Tawni gives me a questioning look but I just shake my head and picture Mep being carried back inside, where he’ll read a story to the orphans huddled around him. The thought makes me happy and sad all at the same time. They’re the ones we’re fighting for. The unwanted orphans, the beggars in the streets, the wrongly convicted prisoners, the fathers working impossible hours in the mines, the mothers fighting like hell to turn a few potatoes and bags of beans into enough food to fill the bellies of their children: we’re fighting for all of them. I feel adrenaline pump through my veins as I stride forward, following my mother, the warrior.
It’s silent for a few more minutes until we pass by an open doorway in one of the buildings. Heavy music pumps through the opening and I can see bodies gyrating and writhing under crackling red and purple lights. One of them turns to watch us pass by, a genderless form with tattoos all over its face and a white-tipped Mohawk. Red lipstick stands out against its pale skin. Raising a single long-nailed finger, it motions for me to enter the building.
Holding my breath, I pass by the door quickly. Tawni’s face is brimming with fear. I guess th
ere’s more than one dark side to the Star Realm.
Ten minutes later we reach the end of the subchapter buildings. A dark hole stands before us. “Do we have to go in there?” Tawni asks slowly.
“Unfortunately, yes,” my mom replies. “The Star Realm tunnels are small and claustrophobic, but it’s the only way to get where we’re going.”
“And where is that exactly?” I ask.
“The Resistance has maintained a train line hidden from the sun dwellers for many years. We need to access it.”
“And we can’t take a public train?” Tawni asks hopefully. She really doesn’t want to go into that tunnel, not that I blame her.
“We can’t risk it, especially after what the generals told us. There could be more spies that they don’t even know about. If there was any other way, believe me, we’d take it.”
“Let’s get it over with,” I say.
Mom nods and leads us into the tunnel, me then Tawni then Trevor, all of us stooping to avoid hitting our heads on the jagged rocks protruding from the ceiling. The walls close in on us immediately and I fight the urge to turn around and run out.
In ten minutes my back is aching from being hunched over and my arms and legs are scratched and bleeding from frequent accidental brushes against the rough walls. It’s like everything in my life before this point—all the harsh living conditions, my time in the Pen, my harried escape through the Moon Realm—have been preparing me for this. I’m tough. I’ve been around the block. I can handle it.
An hour later I’m doubting myself.
“How much further?” I say, desperate for a chance to stretch out my back and legs.
“Not even close, honey,” my mom says, somehow managing to sound like the kind and loving mother that she is, even under the harshest conditions.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Tawni says behind me. She’s a lot taller than me, which makes the hunching even worse. I realize this is a time when I’m going to need to be strong for her, another chance to pay her back for the strength she showed when Cole died, when I was at my lowest low.
“Yes you can, Tawni. You can do this. We all can. We all will. Let me know when you need a break, no matter how often, and we’ll stop and try to stretch out.”
I hear Trevor’s voice carry from further back, agreeing with me. “We’re all in this together.” He sounds so supportive—nothing like the jerk I thought he was.
I hear her take a heavy breath out, and she says, “Okay. I’ll do my best.” We continue on, stopping almost every fifteen minutes to rest and so that Tawni—and all of us really—can lie down and stretch out our backs and legs. The splintered rocks on the tunnel floor dig into our skin, but none of us care—it’s like a hardcore massage to us.
Perhaps two hours pass. The tunnel has been moving downwards the whole way, getting steeper and steeper with each step. The temperature has been rising, too, as if we really are descending into the bowels of hell. It certainly feels that way.
My body is dripping sweat from every pore, and the rock particles are clinging to my skin, making it appear gray and dusty. I start to feel faint as the heat feels like it gains another five degrees in an instant. “Mom?” I say.
“Almost there,” she replies, reading my mind.
Two steps, three. Four, five. And then we stumble out of the tunnel, into a long cavern bursting with red light. I’ve never seen it before, but know exactly what it is, where we are.
“The lava flow,” I murmur.
“One of many,” Mom says.
There’s a deep depression, brimming with flowing, churning viscous lava, crackling and popping with energy. The heat is stifling, pretty much unbearable.
I notice Tawni and Trevor stretching out and I follow their lead, touching my toes and twisting from side to side, trying to loosen out the crooks in my back. “Why are we here?” I ask.
Mom answers: “We knew the Sun Realm would never expect a hidden train line this close to the lava flow—nor would they want to come down here. It’s very close to here.”
She gives us a minute to finish stretching and pour delicious water over our lips and tongues, and then we must move on. Breathing is difficult in the oppressive heat as we pass the molten lava flow.
“How would you like to work down here?” Trevor asks.
“No thanks,” Tawni says.
“People can’t really work down here, can they?” I ask.
“They can, and they do,” Trevor says. “My old man was a lava worker, hauling garbage from all across the Tri-Realms down to the flow, dumping it in, watching the flow devour it. He used to tell me stories about the stuff people from the Sun Realm would throw away. Stuff that we would kill for down here. Mountains of uneaten food, soft mattresses, furniture, all kinds of crap. He was under strict presidential orders that everything had to be destroyed, no exceptions. Those who were caught trying to forage through the garbage would have to pay the consequences.”
“That’s crazy,” I say. “What were the consequences?” After my experiences with the Enforcers, I’m almost scared to ask.
“They didn’t say. But this one time my dad gave in to temptation, came home with a beautiful new bed for my brother and me to share. When he gave it to us, he said, ‘To hell with the rules.’” Trevor takes a deep breath. “He seemed so happy to give it to us, and honestly, I was so proud of my dad. He stood up for himself. The next day he didn’t come home from work. We never saw him again.”
My eyelids slowly close and I stumble when I step on a rock that rolls away under my feet. Trevor grabs my arm and steadies me. “Trevor, I’m sorry,” I say, and this time he lets me say it, because I’m not really apologizing for anything, but showing him that I’m saddened by his story.
“It’s okay. We got through it. We always do down here.”
Supreme gratitude fills my chest as I realize how blessed I am that my entire family is still intact, regardless of all the bad stuff that’s happened to us. We are a blessed people. I hear my father’s words ring in my head, from a time long past.
We reach the end of the lava flow, where the reddish glow disappears beneath the rock, leaving us behind. The end of the cavern blocks our path. There’s no tunnel here and I think my mom might have gotten confused, taken a wrong turn somewhere.
Before I can voice my question, she smiles and says, “Now we go up.”
Tilting my head back, I gaze up along the pocked rock wall. Near the very top is a dark space, as if there’s a hidden tunnel. You’d never even notice it unless you knew it was there.
“How do we get up?” Tawni asks, staring sharply at the thirty-foot wall.
I know the answer. “We climb,” I say.
“Without ropes?” Tawni’s eyes are worrying again. She’s not the most coordinated and I can almost see the vision behind her eyes: her legs tangling as she falls away from the wall into the lava flow below.
I look at my mom, hoping she’s got some brilliant—and safe—method of getting us to the top. “Without ropes,” she confirms. “However, we’ll tie ourselves together, so if one person falls, the others can try to keep them on the wall. Be vigilant with your hand- and footholds at all times and we’ll get through this.”
Tawni doesn’t look convinced, but she seems better knowing she’s not on her own. I put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and she manages an unnatural smile. “I guess the only way to conquer your fears is by facing them,” she says, but I know she doesn’t believe her own words.
“That’s right,” I lie.
We tie our packs tight around our shoulders until they bite into the skin under our arms. Then we tie our packs to each other’s. It seems like a lame attempt at safety but I think we all feel better by doing it.
“This wall has plenty of good handholds,” Mom says, “so don’t settle for bad ones. Before moving up to the next one, make sure you’re secure. We’ll move up as a team. Ready?”
No one says anything, which she takes as a yes. She gets into
position, reaching up for the first hold, a deep depression in the rock. And then she’s up, born only by the strength and positioning of her own hands and feet on the wall.
I send Tawni up next, and despite her concerns, she seems to quickly get the hang of it, using her height to her advantage as she is able to access the best handholds simply by stretching herself out.
I’m third, and although I’m not afraid of heights, I feel a pang of fear thud in my chest. It’s like I’m worried that after all I’ve been through, I might die because of a stupid wall—and it scares me. But I find my first handhold and manage to get up, pushing off with my legs. I don’t see Trevor start climbing behind me, but know he’s there because of the jostle of the ropes that connect us.
We move slowly upwards, like one organism, my mom as the head, Tawni the torso, and Trevor the legs. I guess that makes me the butt. One leg up, push off, reach with my arms, grab a rock, raise the other leg, repeat. Again and again, until I know we’re getting high. My heart continues to hammer in my chest and I fight the urge to look down. My palms are sweaty with exertion—and though I hate to admit it: fear.
I look up and see my mom clamber over the lip at the top, disappearing for a moment. Then her head appears, looking down at those of us still climbing. She offers a hand to Tawni, who takes it, allowing Mom to pull her up the final few feet. Finally, my heart rate slows. It wasn’t so bad, after all. We’re all going to make it.
You know how bad things tend to happen when you least expect them? Like right when a miner discovers a massive gemstone, and he’s gawking at its beauty, that’s when the roof collapses on his head. That’s how it is now. I’m not paying attention and my foot isn’t completely secure when I push off. I feel it slip off the edge and I wave my arms wildly, trying to find something to grab onto. Both hands find holds, but my sweaty fingers won’t grip the slippery stone.
I fall.
I’m very high up and I fall.
I cry out and Trevor does, too. There’s a twitch as the rope connecting me to Tawni tightens, and then I’m dangling in midair, swinging across the wall. I feel a jerk as my momentum wrenches Trevor off the wall, too, and now his full weight is pulling on my back.
