Worlds Between

by Heather Lee Dyer

  “I can’t imagine who would steal from us, Jamie. Are you sure the animals didn’t just squirm out of the traps? Maybe I didn’t tighten the springs enough.”

  “I checked all four of the closest traps. They’re all the same. There was obviously some animal in the trap at one point. There’s no way four could’ve gotten out, right?” He plops down on his mat. Sitting there with his face leaning on his knees he looks like the small nine-year-old he really is; a slight build from not enough rations, blond hair sticking out in all directions, and well-worn pants that are too short for him since his last growth spurt. But the scariest part is, he looks excited by this new mystery, because it’s finally something new.

  “You’re right, this is strange. I need to go to the traders anyway today, so I’ll pick up meat as well. I’m sure this is just a rogue coyote or something like that. I’ll check the other traps on my way back.”

  “So I have to stay here again by myself?” Jamie whines. “Why can’t I at least go with you this one time? I’ll be quiet at the traders and do exactly as you say.” He looks up at me with his best sad little brother face.

  I turn away. I hate always saying no to him. The truth is, I’m worried about the extra drones, and the empty traps. Part of me wants to give in, just so I can keep him close. But it’s too dangerous out there. It’s hard enough keeping myself safe, and I can’t afford the distraction of looking out for him. The trading camp is supposed be a safe haven, since they change locations every week and take precautions against Kreon raids. But you still have to reach it, and I’m not ready to risk the only family I have left.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie. Soon, though, I promise.” I turn back to him and ruffle his hair, giving him something he can really growl about. I smile as he doesn’t disappoint.

  “You always say that.” He stomps over to the workbench and starts wrenching off the drone’s mechanical legs. I frown at him but don’t say anything. I know he’s being careless with the tech just to annoy me. I watch as he removes the largest pieces of the drone first. He puts them next to the drone in the same pattern he took them off, methodically, like I taught him, and like my father taught me.

  People from all over the sector make the trek to the traders at least once a month. Our nearest neighbors are fairly decent, although a few are a bit odd. Comes with the years of isolation I guess. But some of the other survivors that show up to trade have been out in the wilds too long and are rough and desperate to survive. I’ve seen the hunger and violence in their eyes. I wasn’t ready to let Jamie see it as well.

  My gaze skitters again to the family picture on the bookshelf, only this time anger burns in my belly. Mom disappeared when the Kreons first reached our sector, so I don’t remember too much of her. Dad promised that he’d always be here to take care of us, until he disappeared as well. Now we were all alone. I square my shoulders, firm in my decision. Jamie will have to grow up eventually, but not today. I grab the baggy, dark gray and navy clothes I wear in public, and step behind the privacy curtain hanging in the corner. It’s mostly symbolic, since the fabric is torn and near transparent with wear. I dress quickly, making sure I secure my hunting knife at my waist. I pause, but then reach under my mat to grab the small paring blade Dad gave me. It fits snugly on the inside of my boot where I’ve fashioned a holster from rabbit hide. I don’t always have it on me, because it’s one of the few things I got from my father and I’m afraid to lose it, but today I’ll feel better knowing I have more than one weapon.

  I step over to the small, cracked mirror we have hanging over the water basin, and squint at the image staring back at me. I roll my eyes at myself before pulling a brush through my auburn hair and tying it up with twine. I pull on my father’s old brown hat and tuck the wisps of hair underneath. The clothes make it hard to tell that I’m a seventeen-year-old girl. But my eyes are the same ice blue as my brother’s, which gets noticed too much around our sector. Most of the people who fled to this valley have dark hair or at least have brown eyes, like Dad.

  I turn around, but Jamie is still ignoring me. I resist the urge to ask him how I look, knowing he’d say something mean. Instead, I pull my bed mat away from the wall. There’s a notch in one of the floorboards and I tug at it, my feet braced shoulder width. The trap door creaks open and I lean it against rough wood.

  “Do you need help?” Jamie is next to me, looking down into the hole.

  I smirk. “Sure. You grab that side.” We both reach into the hole and grab thick metal loops and pull up. We ease the box out and place it onto the floor. The box is made from blue-hued Kreon metal, which is why it’s so light despite its size. Dad scrounged up the metal scraps years ago. I’m really not sure where he found the materials, or what he used to forge them together. I’d tried leaving pieces in the fire for hours and could still barely make a dent in it.

  “How much will you take?” Jamie asks as he pries the lid open.

  I grab my backpack and empty the contents onto my mat. Just a few tools and extra traps I won’t need today. Then I peer into the box.

  “So we need food, new water filters, and—”

  “More metal for arrows,” Jamie adds.

  I wrinkle my nose as I calculate. Then I turn to Jamie. “So with that much stuff, what do you think I should take?” Jamie’s always been fast at calculations, so I test him every time I go to the traders. At least I know he won’t get ripped off when the time comes for him to go alone. My chest tightens at the thought of him at the marketplace without me, and I push it away. Jamie reaches in and pulls out items and lays them on the floor in front of us. When he’s done, the box is nearly empty.

  I sigh. But I know he’s right. Even though prices tend to fluctuate at the traders each month, we can estimate within reason. We’ve been stockpiling for weeks and we still have barely enough for the supplies we need. After years of scrubbing our immediate area for anything of value, it’s getting harder to find resources of value worth trading. Plus, we’d never had to buy meat before. I resist the urge to glance at the new drone. I don’t want Jamie feeling guilty about it, and I did promise him he could keep the next one.

  “It’s a lot of stuff, Rya. And with someone stealing from our traps, are you sure we’ll be all right?”

  I slam the box shut. “Of course. I think the traders will be near the old recycle plant today, so I’ll scavenge afterwards for more metal. Maybe we can build something together and sell it next time.”

  Jamie nods and reaches down into the hole, pulling up a leather bag with a thick strap and handing it to me.

  “Thanks. Now while I’m gone today, I need you to do all of your chores.” I grasp his shoulder and look into his eyes. “And Jamie, I need you to practice your letters as well before I get home. All right?”

  He shoves my hand off and stands up. “What’s the use of me learning to write if you won’t let me go with you trading? All we have here are those stupid history books and stories for children.”

  I grind my teeth. “No books are stupid, and you need to be literate before you go to the traders so you don’t get taken advantage of. So keep practicing.” Secretly I promise myself I’ll keep my eyes open for an age-appropriate novel to bring him.

  “I’m better at calculations than you are,” he grumbles as he walks back over to the workbench.

  “Yes, I know. And you’ll do great at the traders with your grasp of numbers.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He sits sullenly and goes back to work on the drone again. I lower the near empty box back into the hole and look at the items we’ve pulled out. Five small drone engine batteries, a dozen rotors, and two complete spy drones. It took Jamie and I several weeks to repair the spy drones that were damaged in the process of catching them. There are always a few techies at the traders that will pay good money for intact drones. They repurpose the Kreon drones and camera parts to protect their own homes. Some drone chips can even be hacked and reprogrammed to detect inco
ming drones or mech robots.

  A few years ago, our neighbor Melvin showed us how to do it. After Dad disappeared, sometimes I’d check on him and help out with chores, in exchange for lessons about mechanics and hacking. I’d barely scratched the surface of what was possible, but what I already know seems valuable enough to command decent prices at the market, at least to the right buyers. Most people would rather eat than fool around with dangerous—and illegal—stolen alien technology.

  I sigh as I place each item carefully in my backpack, with the two drones placed in the extra bag. I was hoping to have enough to get new clothes for Jamie and a new book for myself, but now I’d have to buy meat instead. If someone was really stealing from our traps, they’d probably already passed through the area. But we need to be prepared in case it happens again.

  A shiver goes up my spine, thinking about the thief. Not only is someone coming way too close to our cabin, but if they planned on making it a routine, we’d burn through resources too quickly—which meant a confrontation.

  I wish Jamie wasn’t in such a hurry to go with me. He has no idea what a bad place it can be for someone young and innocent like him. Or a girl like me. Each time I go, I try to look enough like an older boy so that the others will leave me alone. But in the last few months, my figure has been filling out, making it harder to conceal my curves.

  I paste on a smile and go over to where Jamie is trying to figure out how to get the main body apart without breaking the thin encasing. I don’t say anything as I watch because I know he’ll figure it out, eventually. He hates it when I interfere.

  I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He flinches slightly, then goes back to ignoring me.

  “I’ll be home before dark.”

  More silence.

  “I’ll look for something special for you to take apart at the dump.”

  Nothing.

  That usually gains me at least a quick, hopeful glance. The older he gets the harder it is to bribe him, and his anger seems to fester for longer periods.

  I take a last look at him to see if he’ll say goodbye. He flips his dirty blond hair out of his eyes, but stays concentrated on the large drone. At least that’ll keep him busy for a while.

  I tie my jacket around my waist and grab a water bottle.

  “Love you, Jamie. See you tonight.”

  I close the door slowly hoping for a response. When nothing comes I shut the door tightly and head toward the old city.

  ***

  I stick close to the river that runs through the valley. I’ve used the natural boundary many times to escape Kreon mech patrols. They’re all metal armor and electronics, so they won’t go near the water. Nobody knows what the Kreons actually look like, or how many there are. As far as I know, they never come down from their ships. But they don’t need to. Their robotic soldiers are more than capable of reminding humans we’re no longer in control of this planet. When I was younger, I saw a boy throw a stone at one of them. A second later he was a pile of ash and charred clothing.

  Thankfully, I haven’t seen any Kreon patrols recently. They were more frequent in our sector years ago when they were first rounding up humans. Back then, they were after the humans that actively protested against the alien rule over our planet, or tried to sabotage the Kreon refineries or buildings. My parents moved us from the city out to this valley when we were young to avoid them. It’s easier to stay invisible out here. But the rebellion has been wiped out, and nobody is dumb enough to fight against the Kreons anymore.

  Not for the first time, I wonder how the Kreons got my mother. Did she turn herself in to one of the human compounds, leaving her husband and children behind? Or did they catch her in the woods somehow, when she was being careless? I stumble over a tree root and catch my balance on the rough bark of a large pine tree.

  Stop dwelling, Rya. Get supplies and make sure Jamie is fed.

  Focus on today, and today only.

  I keep walking and make it to the old dam, destroyed years ago. Here the river splits in two. One waterway tumbles over the stones that once held back the water, and then heads toward the old city; a scar on the landscape. The second winds around the ancient structure and heads deeper into the valley. On top of one of the broken retaining walls is a single oval rock. To a stranger, or the Kreons, hopefully, it looks like just a random stone blending in among the dam it rests on.

  But to the locals it tells which direction the traders are each week.

  I hop across the boulders to reach it, lifting it gently to find an arrow drawn with chalk, pointing slightly southwest. Toward the giant metallic leg of the Kreon ship. I let out a grunt and carefully make my way to the other side of the river. The remaining wall of the dam, although somewhat under water, makes a perfect, yet slippery, bridge across the river.

  I reach the other side without getting my boots too wet. I’m just starting up the hill when something white catches my eye. I squat down, and peek through the branches of a bunch of aspen trees. I freeze when I find what caught my attention. A rabbit’s head. A fairly recent kill, too. The rest of the body is nowhere to be seen.

  This head was discarded here recently since there’s no blood. I doubt anyone would be hunting this close to the trading camp, which means it’s probably from one of my traps. I hear footsteps running up ahead on a path that meets up with mine. I shift deeper into the trees to hide, just as a boy with dark hair and a leather jacket disappears over the top of the upper dam. He’s alone, like me. I sprint after him, as fast as I can on the loose pebbles. My lungs burn and my legs cramp as I crest the top and spot him, further down along the path. Hanging over his shoulder looks like a string of small animal skins. I count them to be sure. My rabbits.

  I stop and place my hands on my knees to catch my breath. There’s no way I’ll catch him when he’s so far ahead. My stomach tightens painfully as I realize this stranger was prowling around near my cabin. We only have a few neighbors, and I know them all. What was he doing in my valley? I look back the way I came.

  What if there are others? Is Jamie in danger?

  Sharp pain spreads up through my chest as I imagine mech guards or desperate humans from another sector surrounding our cabin. I drop to my knees and take deep breaths. I concentrate on the sounds around me: birds chirping, wind through the trees and tall grass, the gurgling of a nearby stream as water flows over the smooth stones. Finally, the gray at the edge of my vision clears and the pain eases in my chest.

  Jamie has his bow and arrows and a knife of his own. Dad taught us both to defend ourselves. I have to keep going. We need this food. Knowing I have no other choice, I stand up and stiffly start again toward the trader camp. Unease eats away at my stomach as I break into a jog, but I turn my focus away from the cabin and Jamie and toward the dangers that lie ahead.

  THREE

  MY SENSES GO ON HYPER awareness as I near the camp. The first thing I notice is a flock of birds fly noisily up from a grove of trees and heading back toward the valley. The second is harsh laughter echoing amongst the trees, and the smell of burning flesh and homebrewed beer. Traders, camping after a successful day at the market no doubt. I can tell they’ve used clean wood to send up less smoke, picking out the bark and moss, but it’s still stupid of them to celebrate this close to the market. I push on until I’m through the entrance, then slow my pace to catch my breath.

  Burly metal workers heat portable forges along the perimeter of the camp. The blacksmiths turn pieces of metal in the hot embers. They seem concentrated on their work, but I know they notice everything that goes on around the camp.

  People from other sectors rarely find the trading camp without being invited, but when they do, the leaders who run it want to make sure no trouble starts. The sweaty muscles at the gate act as a deterrent for anyone with darker impulses.

  I pass the closest blacksmith, who recognizes me with a nod and a smile. Dad introduced him to me on my first trip to the market, years ago. After m
y dad disappeared, I went asking around for him, begging for information, but nobody had any clue where he went. Since then, I’ve talked to the man a few times when my knife needs sharpening. I don’t remember his name, but I know I can trust him. His presence is reassuring, but I pat the metal blade at my waist nervously, checking to make sure I still have it. I keep my chin up and shoulders straight, then walk deeper into the market. I know which merchants I need to visit and I walk with purpose toward the first one.

  I bite my lip as I stop at Sanya’s table. She’s one of my neighbors, a large, tired-looking woman in a navy blouse and a white apron. She keeps turning to yell at her kids playing in the dirt behind her. I pick a jar of canned peaches, and a treat for Jamie, something special to bring home for him tonight. I know the bar of chocolate is an extravagance, but if we cut it into small pieces, we can make it last for weeks.

  As she wraps the jar in cloth for me, she gives me a look of undisguised pity. She knows my secret—that my father disappeared and left Jamie and I alone. I suspect some of the traders also knew my mother, though I’ve never had a reason to ask them about her. I trade Sanya one of the drone brain chips that I’ve so carefully collected. I know the chips are worth more than a can of peaches. But her husband is one of the few men, other than Melvin, who knows how to reprogram the Kreon drones, and I don’t have time to negotiate or look for another buyer. I wait for Sanya to offer me an extra loaf of bread or some pulled taffy, as she sometimes does, but today she purses her lips and doesn’t give me anything extra. It seems things are tight for everyone this week.

  I take a deep breath and head toward the hunter’s area in the center of the trading camp. Here I find several tables laden with a variety of animal skins, dried meat, sausages and hanging carcasses; all heavily salted so they last longer. I stop to buy dried meat first. I cringe at the increased prices, then hand over all the batteries for only a few weeks’ worth of deer meat.