The Lion of Mars

by Jennifer L. Holm

  “It’s carrot cake,” Albie said. “It was Bell’s idea.”

  “Oh, Bell,” Meems said, looking teary-eyed. “Thank you.”

  Flossy sliced the cake and passed plates down the table. But I just stared at my piece.

  “Aren’t you going to eat it?” Salty Bill asked me.

  “It feels bad eating cake when Phinneus isn’t here,” I whispered.

  “He’d want you to enjoy it,” he said gruffly. “He was never one to waste a piece of cake.”

  That made me smile because it was true.

  So I ate my slice.

  * * *

  Phinneus was gone, but life went on in the settlement.

  It was shocking how the loss of a single person had affected our little world. Even though Phinneus had been meticulous about making notes in the Record, there were many things that only he knew. When Phinneus had died, he had taken all his experience with him.

  Albie, who had picked up the algae farm in addition to his other responsibilities, was frustrated. One day, he told me a batch of algae had turned out bad.

  “I don’t know where anything is,” he confessed. “I can’t find the fertilizer for the beets.”

  “It’s probably in the cabinet over the sink,” I said.

  “And there’s a leak in the container growing the spinach. I can’t figure out what’s causing it.”

  “It’s probably the roots,” I told him. “They can clog things and cause a backup.”

  Albie looked surprised. “How do you know all this?”

  “I just remember Phinneus telling me.”

  “Can you help me figure things out?” he asked.

  I hadn’t been in the algae farm since Phinneus died.

  Albie must have seen something on my face, because he said, “That was dumb of me. Forget I even asked.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I told him. “I’ll come help.”

  * * *

  It felt wrong to be back in the algae farm.

  Everywhere I looked, there were living things. Algae, vegetables, fruit. All so green and growing, coaxed to life and nurtured by Phinneus. But he was gone. It was so unfair. I’d never had a chance to tell him good-bye. Even a plant said farewell in its own way. It sagged, leaves falling off, one by one, until finally there was nothing left but a lonely, bare stem.

  Remember me, it whispered.

  “This place is kind of confusing.” Albie scratched his head as if he didn’t know where to start.

  Stuff was piled randomly on shelves—seeds and tools and fertilizers and hydroponic parts. Phinneus wasn’t organized. In fact, he was pretty much the opposite of Sai, with his perfectly lined-up bins.

  We decided I would label and organize the supplies so the others could find them more easily.

  “What’s this herb? It doesn’t taste very good,” Albie said, holding out a sprig of green.

  “It’s catnip,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said, and made a face.

  For the first time in days, I laughed.

  After that, we decided it was probably a good idea to label the plants, too.

  Sai was barking orders when we walked into breakfast the next morning.

  “And shut down noncritical areas so we can preserve power,” he told Eliana.

  She nodded and hurried off, her husband following her.

  “What’s going on?” Albie asked Sai.

  Sai wasn’t his usually composed self. He looked stressed.

  “I received a weather report during the night,” he said. “A dust storm is scheduled to hit.”

  The problem with dust storms was that they kicked up dust in the air, which blocked the sunlight. The majority of our power was solar, so we would have to rely much more on batteries.

  “When?” I asked Sai.

  “In about forty-eight hours.”

  * * *

  The dust storm began.

  As the days passed, it seemed to get denser much faster than was typical. When I went up to the COR in the middle of the afternoon a few days later, the sky was a dusty haze, like twilight. It was eerie.

  And the storm lingered. Usually a dust storm lasted for a few days. But after many weeks, there was still no end in sight.

  At supper that night, Sai gave us the bad news.

  “I just heard from Command. The storm is officially a Big One,” he said.

  Every decade or so there was a dust storm that covered the entire planet. This global dust storm was known as a Big One. It was impossible to predict how long it would last.

  But that wasn’t the only bad news.

  Something had happened to our batteries—a bunch weren’t working—so energy had to be strictly rationed. Sai had ordered the heat to be turned lower, and there were no hot showers.

  So we bundled up in our warmest thermal suits and shivered in the shower.

  We kids spent most of our time in the mess hall. I had pulled out a puzzle and spread it on the floor to piece together. It was of Earth—all the countries and the great oceans.

  “How long is this storm going to last?” Flossy asked, struggling with two plastic sticks and a ball of yarn. Meems had been teaching her how to knit.

  “It’s hard to say,” Meems said.

  “I can’t wait to wash my hair in hot water,” Vera said. It was greasy, just like mine.

  “Do they have dust storms on Earth?” Trey asked Meems from where he sat on the floor.

  He was working on the puzzle with me. Since the dust storm had arrived, it was as if a truce had been called.

  “Yes,” she said. “But Earth storms are generally wind and water. They’re called hurricanes.”

  Sometimes when the grown-ups talked about life on Earth, it felt like they were remembering dreams. Water falling from the sky. Earth animals flying. Places called libraries, where you could simply walk in and take books home. It all seemed so fantastic.

  “I remember a bad storm that just about destroyed my grandfather’s little house in the Florida Keys,” Meems said. “The wind blew the water horizontally, and we couldn’t figure out where the leaks were. What a mess that was! Had to gut the entire house.”

  Salty Bill wandered out of the kitchen in his apron to check on our progress. “How is it going?” he asked.

  “Not very well,” I said.

  I’d been trying to figure out where to put my piece for half an hour. We had finished the edges and parts of some countries, but only Antarctica was complete. How strange that this place was the cause of so much trouble.

  I held out my piece. “I can’t figure out where it goes.”

  Salty Bill got down on his knees and studied the puzzle.

  “I think that’s the top of Maine,” he told me.

  I clicked it down, and it fit. “Thanks!”

  He winked. “You know, the best lobster I ever had in my life was in Maine.”

  Vera looked disgusted. “Lobster? You ate a lobster? How could you? They’re so cute!”

  Salty Bill snorted. “Real lobsters are not cute. But they sure are tasty. Especially with drawn butter and lemon. Best meal of my life.”

  At the table, Meems leaned forward. “I had the best meal of my life in Provence. Roast chicken, green beans, and grilled potatoes. Simple, yet perfect somehow.”

  “Cute little chickens and lobsters? This is why I’m happy to live on Mars. I don’t know how you could ever eat Earth animals,” Vera said, and I had to agree.

  “Where’s Provence?” Flossy asked.

  “In southern France,” Meems said. “There are fields of purple lavender. I still remember the smell.”

  “That sounds so romantic,” Flossy said.

  “France is a beautiful country,” Meems agreed.

  “But I don’t understand. The Frenc
h people here are dangerous. They chased us!” I said.

  Salty Bill and Meems shared a long look.

  Finally, she said, “Countries fight for different reasons. For instance, the United States fought Great Britain during the Revolutionary War but came to their aid during World War Two. It’s complicated.”

  As usual, Vera had the last word.

  “You know what’s not complicated?” she said. “Eating cute lobsters. It’s just wrong.”

  DATE: 7.16.2091

  FROM: CDR Dexter

  TO: US Terrestrial Command

  MESSAGE: Situation Report

  The global dust storm is ongoing. We have instituted standard protocols. Please advise on forecasted duration of storm.

  Sai Dexter, COMMANDER

  Expeditionary & Settlement Team

  United States Territory, Mars

  The first hint that something was wrong was a cough.

  We were having supper—a hearty stew with potatoes and onions—when Eliana started coughing. It was a deep, hacking cough that sounded terrible.

  “Are you okay, Peanut Butter?” Darby asked.

  Her smile was strained. “It’s just a little cough, Jelly.”

  By the next day, Eliana was in bed. Sick.

  “I think it’s dust cough,” Meems told Sai. “Even though she’s in the enviro suit when she goes topside, she has some exposure when she takes it off. Especially with the amount of dust in the atmosphere now.”

  There was a vacuum room that sucked dust off the enviro suits when you came in, but the dust was so fine, some still made it through. It was like a thin coat of flour. Getting rid of the stuff was nearly impossible.

  “Will she be okay?” Sai asked.

  “With some rest and steroids, she should get better,” Meems said. “She can’t go up top anymore.”

  But Eliana didn’t get better. If anything, she got worse. Even more worrying was that Meems had started to cough, too, and was in bed. Now they both had dust cough.

  “Maybe the dust filters are backed up,” Darby suggested. He looked tired; he’d been up all night, taking care of his sick wife.

  “Have you been emptying the dust filters completely?” Sai asked me with a skeptical look.

  “Yes,” I told him.

  “I think we’ll join you on your rounds this morning,” he told me.

  They watched as I emptied the filters. By the time I finished, I had a bucket of dust.

  Darby rubbed his chin. “That’s a normal amount of dust. I suppose there could be a leak in one of the air ducts.”

  “What do you suggest?” Sai asked.

  “I can send Pup to look at each section. See if there are any cracks.”

  Pup had a digi-cam and could fit in tight spaces.

  “Might as well get started,” Sai said.

  Inspecting the ductwork was slow going. Pup only had so much battery power, so he had to take frequent breaks to recharge. It was nearly midnight when Darby and Albie walked into the mess hall. Trey and I were still awake and working on the puzzle. We’d finished most of Europe.

  “Well?” Trey asked.

  “Nothing,” Albie said.

  Darby’s face was gray with fatigue. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m going to bed.”

  * * *

  The next morning at breakfast, it was just us kids and Sai and Salty Bill. Darby was exhausted and sleeping in.

  Salty Bill had made muffins with chocolate bits. They were delicious.

  Sai was ignoring his muffin; he was poring over schematics of the settlement.

  Vera screwed up her face. “What if the dust is getting in here like during the hurricane?”

  She’d washed her hair, but now instead of being greasy, it looked just ratty. I guess cold water didn’t get the dirt out.

  Sai looked curious. “What’s this?”

  “Meems said rain blew horizontally during a bad hurricane and got through tiny cracks, so there were leaks in her grandfather’s house in Florida,” she said. “Maybe the dust is getting in cracks somewhere?”

  Albie looked excited. “It could be coming in through the communications room.”

  “Definitely a possibility,” Sai conceded. “I suppose we ought to investigate the roof. We’ll need a few hands. At least two people to hold the ladder steady and someone to climb up.”

  “I’ll do it,” Albie said.

  Sai hesitated. “You may be too big to climb on the roof. It will probably support your weight, but if there’s any weakness, now’s not the time to stress it.”

  “Oh,” Albie said, and looked down.

  “I can do it,” Trey offered, and I could hear the hopeful note in his voice.

  Sai regarded him steadily. “All right.”

  Trey flushed with happiness.

  “I’ll still need another hand to help with the ladder,” Sai said.

  “I’m taking care of Meems,” Flossy said.

  Vera groaned dramatically. “Guess it’s me. Oh well, it’s not like my hair can actually get any worse.”

  * * *

  “I found a small crack!” Trey announced at supper.

  He was so excited, he was practically bouncing in his chair.

  “Where was it?” I asked.

  “Near the base where the supply ship docks,” he said. “Sai said it was probably caused by the pressure of the ship docking.”

  Albie looked skeptical. “But that crack just went into a support piece. It didn’t lead to any vents.”

  “It was still a good find,” Trey insisted.

  “Sure,” Albie agreed. “We’ll patch it up tomorrow.”

  Trey preened.

  “So we still don’t know how the dust is getting in?” Flossy asked.

  “Pretty much,” Vera said. “And now my hair looks like a flat, greasy helmet.”

  Salty Bill leaned out of the kitchen and looked around the room.

  “Where is everyone?” he demanded. His voice sounded hoarse.

  “I took Meems and Darby and Eliana some soup earlier,” Flossy said.

  “What about Sai?” Salty Bill asked.

  “He wanted to look at schematics of the settlement,” Albie told him. “He’ll get himself something to eat later.”

  “Well, I’m closing the kitchen. I think I’m coming down with a cold,” Salty Bill said.

  The next morning when we went to the mess hall, none of the grown-ups showed up. Not even Salty Bill.

  When they didn’t appear at supper, we really started to panic.

  The sound of coughing echoed up and down the corridors. All the grown-ups were sick.

  In a heartbeat, life had changed. Or maybe it had stopped. Like a digi-reel frozen halfway through a scene. Overnight, it was up to us kids to take care of the settlement: cooking, dust duty, repairs, and a hundred other things. It was never-ending.

  By some unspoken agreement, Flossy had taken charge. It didn’t matter that Albie was older; she knew the most about running the settlement after being Sai’s apprentice. It soon became apparent why he had chosen her first: she was great at organizing. With the same enthusiasm and attention to detail she had when making clothes, she kept the settlement running. She could see the big picture of what needed to be done. And she somehow got us to do the work without fighting.

  I spent most of my time helping Albie make meals and nurse the grown-ups. Flossy insisted that we clean our hands with a sanitizing spray every time we left one of the grown-ups’ bedrooms. She was worried that we would get sick, too. I was more worried about my skin: the sanitizing spray was harsh, and I had dry, red patches all over my hands from using it.

  “Take this to Meems,” Albie told me, spooning some soup into a bowl. “When you’re done, come and get
Sai’s. I’ll do Darby and Eliana and Salty Bill.”

  The grown-ups were getting sicker. I’d never seen anyone this ill. Sure, the occasional cold made its way around the settlement, but it was usually just a sore throat and a stuffy nose.

  “Albie, is it normal for everyone to get sick at the same time?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, and his shoulders drooped.

  I carried the tray to Meems’s room. I could hear her coughing from behind the door.

  “Meems?” I called. “I brought you some lunch.”

  “Come in,” she said, her voice a croak.

  When I opened the door, I saw that Meems was in bed, the covers tucked up to her chin. Her short, fuzzy gray hair was slick with sweat, and her face was pale. Meems shivered even though she was under a pile of blankets. Now she seemed fragile, like she could crumple and blow away.

  “How do you feel?” I asked her.

  “I think I have a fever again,” she said. “Can you give me some more of the painkiller, Kitten?”

  I put the soup down, got the bottle on the table, and shook out two tablets. Then I propped her up with pillows and handed her the medicine and water. Our roles were reversed: I was taking care of her like she was a child.

  She settled back with a sigh. “How are the others doing?”

  “Eliana’s coughing is getting worse,” I said. “And Flossy said Salty Bill is coughing really bad and has a fever, too. Same with Sai.”

  “They both have fevers?”

  I nodded.

  A puzzled look crossed her face. “This just doesn’t seem like dust cough.”

  A blur of fur bounded into the room. Leo. He did a slow patrol of the room, sniffing here and there.

  “He’s hunting for mice,” I told Meems.

  She stared at Leo.

  “Lice,” she whispered.

  “Leo has lice?” I asked.

  She drew a deep breath and coughed. “They were stowaways. Like the lice.”