by Tina Chan
Kristi looked like a dead person.
But she’s not dead, Troop ferociously thought to himself.
“Sorry, Kristi,” he said, and then gave her a hard slap to the face.
Her eyelids flew open.
“Ow! What the hell?” she grated.
“Don’t lose consciousness on me.” His voice was equally gravelly. “Can you stand?”
He offered her a hand up, which she accepted. They stumbled out of the sandwich shop and traveled a few blocks before Kristi’s legs buckled in on her. She leaned against a wall to regain her strength.
Troop looked back at the sandwich shop, where the conflagration still burned. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
“It’s not like I’m in shape to go anywhere.”
Troop left her, feeling apprehensive at leaving her alone; but they needed water. Where can I get some water? All of the shops are closed and it’s not like I can walk up to someone’s house and ask for a bottle of water.
He wandered around, keeping track of all the turns he made; getting lost in the city was the last thing he wanted to happen right now. The thought of Kristi parched and lying in the streets spurred him into a faster pace.
A wishing fountain appeared ahead. Excited at the prospect of getting a drink, he broke into a jog. The water shimmered in the granite basin, clear as crystal. He reached his hands into the fountain to splash some water onto his face…and felt nothing. What’s going on?
He leaned down to inspect the water and his spirits sunk. It was holographic water. Troop spun on his heels and continued his search for water.
Please let me find water soon, he thought. As if some water god had heard his prayers, a parked solar-truck with the words “Wayland Water” printed on the side appeared ahead. Finally a stroke of luck.
He scrambled over to the truck. The padlock on the truck was rusty and weak; with some effort, Troop was able to snap it off, brown flakes of rust shedding off the lock. Glancing around to make sure no one was in the proximity, he lifted up the back of the truck, wincing at the screeching sound it made.
“Jackpot,” he whispered to himself.
Crates upon crates of water bottles sat upon each other inside the truck; ripe fruits ready for picking. Troop snatched two water bottles from the closest box and pulled down the back door of the truck. Then he leapt down from the edge and sprinted back to Kristi, clutching the two bottles like they were bottles of liquid gold.
Kristi looked better when he got back to her.
“Anybody see you?” Troop asked.
She shook her head. He ripped off part of his shirt and wetted it, then pressed the wet rag over her forehead and she moaned in appreciation. Kristi’s hands trembled sponging herself with the cool, soothing piece of cloth.
“Here, take a sip,” Troop said. He handed her a water bottle.
Most of the water ended up dribbling down her shirt rather than in her mouth, but nevertheless, she let out a groan as the water revived much of her. Troop downed his own bottle in a few swallows.
Then he took a few seconds to assess their state of being. Kristi’s eyes were bloodshot and her hair plastered against her neck from perspiration. He himself was feeling sore and weak; Troop was pretty sure he was as equally as disheveled as Kristi.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like my skin got turned into cracked leather.”
“We have to return to the Filches as fast as possible,” he said. “It’s fifteen minutes past curfew and we’re still a ten minute walk away from their apartment.”
However, in their bedraggled condition, the walk would take much longer than ten minutes. Kristi staggered to her feet and drudged after Troop. The uneven cobblestone ground didn’t make walking any easier and she almost tripped several times; Troop drew in a sharp breath every time she stumbled, but wasn’t sure if Kristi would welcome his help if he offered his arm for support.
Instead, he said, “Do you want to stop for a break?”
Kristi shook her head and motioned for him to go on. Troop slowed down his steps. Kristi looked like she was about to say something, but changed her mind.
The full moon perched in its nest of clouds, sending beams of moonlight upon the land below. The clouds scattered the light, creating a surreal effect.
Distracted by the warped lighting, Kristi didn’t notice Troop slow down even more to match her steps until she felt his arm supporting her around the waist; she stiffened her back. Troop directed her a questioning look.
Kristi returned with a neutral expression. Gradually, she relaxed her muscles and allowed Troop to bear most of her weight.
“At least twenty minutes has passed,” Kristi said a while later.
Troop checked out the street sign nearest to them and cursed. “I think we doubled back by accident.”
“Do you think we can just find someplace to crash for the night? I don’t think we’ll be able to find our way back to the Filches without getting caught by a curfew patrol.”
“I’m so stupid,” Troop said suddenly. “Why didn’t I think of using UnivMaps to find our way back to the apartment?”
He pulled out his miraculously intact electro-slate and clicked on its power button. Nothing happened. The screen didn’t even flicker the tiniest bit. The heat from the fire must’ve caused some type of malfunction in the slate; either that or the electro-slate’s power must’ve run out—but that was highly unlikely since he regularly charged his slate, and a fully charged slate didn’t need to be recharged for up to three full days.
Kristi fumbled through her pockets and found her electro-slate. The screen had a slight crack to it, but other than that, it seemed to be unharmed. She jabbed at the power button. Like Troop’s electro-slate, her slate refused to turn on as well.
“This sucks,” she mumbled.
“Let’s head over to the park across from this street,” Troop said. “We should be able to spend the night in the wooded area without being seen by the patrols.”
They trotted over to a cluster of trees and benches (a little wooden sign declared their shelter to be a Meditation Garden). Troop slumped down on a bench across from Kristi, leaning his forehead against the palms of his hand. He watched Kristi struggle to find a comfortable position on the hard stone bench.
A couple sets of footsteps stomped by outside, patrols making their rounds. But no one ever checked out their hiding place. After making sure Kristi was fast asleep, Troop gave himself the permission to close his own eyes and drifted off to dreamland.
chapter thirty-six
[ Kristi ]
