The Last Kids on Earth: June's Wild Flight

by Max Brallier

  But I’d rather not have to keep looking for supplies, so I take what I can from the truck.

  I wrap a bunch of paper napkins around Neon’s wounded wing stubs, then seal them in place by melting sprinkles like a wax adhesive.

  “Don’t eat it,” I tell Neon. “No matter how delicious it looks. Trust me, I know from experience.”

  Neon fiddles with his tail, but doesn’t so much as lick the sprinkles. He’s got more willpower than I do, that’s for sure.

  Johnny Steve and Globlet climb into the truck. Johnny Steve is saying something about wanting his very own Mr. Shivers mascot head and Globlet’s going on about some “Choco Taco hoedown.”

  Then it’s just me and Neon.

  “Hey,” I say, looking at him. “Uh, thank you for saving me back there.”

  Neon lowers his head modestly, and I see the nubs where his wings should be.

  I think about the vision he accidentally showed me when we were underwater. Neon used to be able to fly. Neon used to have wings.

  Someone, or something, took them. It’s like a punch to the gut. I reach out to touch the wound, but he pulls back.

  He just looks at me for an impossibly long time, then hangs his head.

  And I think, whatever happened—it had to be pretty awful. . . .

  chapter seventeen

  When we finally get back on the road, the sun is starting to go down. Everything is drenched in a soothing, creamsicle orange and even the awful vines sparkle gold.

  It’s beautiful.

  And we all must think so because, for a moment, we’re all quiet.

  Except for Neon.

  Now that he’s bandaged up, Neon has a lot more spring in his step. I mean, he’s practically prancing! It’s a whole lotta cute, a little bit out-of-control, and kinda painful.

  Neon is exhausting—but the longer I’m with him, the more I’m sure that he’s not evil.

  Evil monsters emit a stench, always. Blarg, Thrull, Ghazt—they all stank. Like how the smell of bad milk tells you “don’t drink me!” the odor of evil practically screams “RUN FAR AWAY!”

  But Neon pretty much just smells like water balloons and magic markers. What if Winged Wretches aren’t destined to be evil from the moment they’re hatched? Maybe they just turn evil because they’re raised to be evil?

  Or . . . maybe they have, like, a big “YOU’RE EVIL NOW!” party when they hit a certain age, like a quinceañera or a sweet sixteen. . . .

  I’m thinking about important stuff like birthday parties and the nature of evil when we reach a railroad crossing. The tracks stretch out endlessly to the east and the west.

  “Ahh, yes,” Johnny Steve says. “Now we are getting close.”

  “He’s right,” Globlet says. “Look.”

  Squinting, I see something in the sky—way, way off in the distance. It takes me a second to realize that they are Wretches—they’re so far away they don’t look any bigger than seagulls.

  There are a dozen of them, lazily circling in the sky, like buzzards.

  “We simply follow these tracks,” Johnny Steve says, pointing. “Thataway.”

  I look down at the train tracks.

  “Thataway” leads east.

  But I have to wonder. . . . Railroad tracks are like man-made rivers—you follow them long enough, and you’ll always get someplace helpful. And I wonder what someplace helpful might lie in the other direction.

  There is a sign at the crossing. Moss has grown over it, and it’s covered in caked-on dirt. I step toward it, reach out, and wipe it off. Beneath the grime, I see the words: Shady Side. Two miles west.

  Shady Side. That rings a bell. I’ve seen that name before . . .

  Of course. THE MAP! After the Monster Apocalypse, during the months when I was alone at the middle school—I spent endless hours poring over a map of Wakefield and all its surrounding towns and cities.

  I was looking for places where survivors might have ended up, like army bases. I didn’t find any. But man, I looked at those maps for so long. I’d never forget a single town name.

  The reason I know the name Shady Side: it’s on the same train line as Wakefield! If I follow these tracks west, I will GET BACK HOME.

  I stare down at the tracks. Home. Wakefield. It’s close. And I’m tempted.

  It’s what I want to do.

  I could pat Neon on the rear-end and send him off on his merry way. I bet Johnny Steve could get him back to the nest. Maybe.

  But I look back.

  And I see Neon staring at me.

  Neon showed me something, when we were underwater. It was a memory. Me and my friends, happy together. And then he showed me another memory—himself, flying with other Wretches.

  It makes sense. . . . I want to get home to Wakefield, to my friends.

  Neon wants to get back to his family, his kind.

  But if I don’t take Neon back, then sooner or later, the Rifters will catch him. They’ll take him to Thrull. And that will be bad for my whole dimension.

  But wait, I think. What if there’s another way?

  We could all go back to Wakefield! I’d get Jack and Quint and Dirk! We’d fry up some pretzel-sprinkled watermelon, throw some old-school dance tunes on the stereo. And then, together, we could all deliver Neon to the Wretches’ nest.

  We could finish this mission as a team.

  Sure, it would take longer. But it’s the smarter move! The safer move!

  And I’m nearly decided. Turning to my companions, I say, “Guys, I’m thinking about a change of plans—”

  REEEARGH!

  It is a spine-chilling, goose-bumps-raising roar. “Ogres!” Globlet says, looking over her shoulder like they’re right behind her.

  “They must have reached the flooded town,” Johnny Steve says.

  I gulp. “And if they saw the Ploonk strung up, they’d know it was our doing. That would put them right back on our trail.”

  “NEON!” Johnny Steve exclaims. He hurries toward him. Neon is on the ground—and his entire body is shaking. I rush over, kneeling down. I try to run my hand over his back, where his wings used to be, but he caws and bangs and pushes me away.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t let them get you. We won’t let them take you to Thrull.”

  REEEARGH!

  Another Ogre roar! Louder! Closer!

  Neon caws and howls and bangs his body against the ground! I reach down, but he swats my hand away and runs!

  “NEON! NO!” I shout.

  He’s racing down the tracks with his head down like a rodeo bull, just trying to get as far away from those Ogre howls as he can.

  But he’s going the wrong way—away from Wakefield.

  I give one last look behind us, toward home—and then I take off, running as fast I can after Neon.

  It’s dusk when we finally catch up to him. Geez, I thought I was fast, but Neon is like lightning on four legs. He’s lying alongside a little creek. The water is covered in glowing green algae.

  “Neon!” I cry out. I’m happy to see him—but only for a moment.

  Neon shoots up. He was sleeping. He must have worn himself out running.

  “What is wrong with you?!” I cry out. “Why did you just run? That wasn’t FAIR! I had a plan! We were gonna go—”

  And then I just stop, because I’ve run out of steam. Too tired to yell. Too tired to argue.

  “We need to hurry,” Johnny Steve says. “The Rifters will not be long.”

  So much for returning to Wakefield now. So much for finishing this with my friends. I scoop up Globlet, plop her on my shoulder, and begin walking down the tracks.

  “C’mon, guys,” I say softly, having a hard time hiding my disappointment. “Time to go. Destination: Wretches’ nest.”

  chapter eighteen

  Neon i
s himself again—mostly. He’s not shrieking, not throwing himself into things. But he also knows that I’m angry—and he now seems almost scared of me.

  And, yeah, I am annoyed—but Neon has enough to be scared of without me adding to the list!

  I think about Jack, and how—when things get bad—he has this amazing (and amazingly annoying!) ability to be his most gung-ho.

  Jack might not be here—but I decide to follow his lead anyway. I go super enthusiastic! I sing. I skip. I practically dance down the train tracks, belting out some happy pop song that I haven’t heard since, y’know, before.

  Okay, so, the Rifters are still following us? Not ideal! Handing Neon over to a crew of evil, Ŗeżżőcħ-worshiping servants? Don’t love it!

  But it’s gonna be okay!

  Because I’m gonna make sure it’s okay!

  And, most importantly, we do have a destination. And a PLAN. And having a plan, even in a lousy situation, can make you feel OKAY.

  Like back at the middle school. After I saw my parents, on the bus, and I couldn’t reach them— I knew I was gonna be alone for a long time.

  Those were the bad days. My worst days.

  I yanked the flagpole off my homeroom wall and used it like a spear. I got really good at popping lockers off their hinges: just a quick stab, a twist of the wrist, and I was in.

  That’s how I survived. . . .

  But soon, I was out of lockers. I had eaten my way through the entire sixth-grade wing of the school. Every locker, every backpack, every desk.

  And again, I was hungry.

  Of course, I knew where to get food: the cafeteria. But there were zombies in the cafeteria. I spent two full days lying around, scared, until finally I was so ravenous that I came up with a plan.

  And that sparked something in me. It forced me to use my brain. I was thinking, planning, training.

  I was excited.

  Finally, I stormed that cafeteria like freaking Captain Marvel—if Captain Marvel engaged in combat while lunch meat hung from her lips—

  After that, I was over the hump—past the hardest part. . . .

  And that’s how I feel now.

  I know what to do with Neon, and I know how to get home. “I know everything!” I shout, hopping up onto the train track, walking it like a balance beam.

  Neon trots behind me, his tail swishing back and forth. I don’t know if he knows that we’re fulfilling his dream of going back to the other Wretches, or if he’s just happy because I’m happy, or—

  “Ahem,” Johnny Steve says, interrupting my train of thought. “I must point out that, technically, you do not know everything! I am not even human, yet I know more about them than you do!” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humans are quite silly. . . . ”

  I shoot him a look—then shrug. “Y’know what, I’m not even gonna argue. I refuse to let your human-splaining ways annoy me.”

  “Aha!” Johnny Steve says. He elbows Neon gently in the side. “She admits it, at last!”

  “Okay, fine. IT’S ON! You think you know humans? Let’s see if you know humans. I’m giving you a human quiz. “Johnny Steve, how many teeth do most humans have?”

  “Four,” he says confidently. “Well, four during the daytime. Seventy-seven in the evening.”

  “Why do humans have belly buttons?”

  “For powering down at night! Now give me a difficult one.”

  “What is one thing that all humans can agree on?”

  “Ha! Nice try. All humans agree on everything.”

  “What’s the most popular human food?”

  “Pez. Cherry-flavored Pez.”

  chapter nineteen

  We’re getting close. I can feel it. I can SEE it. The world is getting stranger. . . .

  Our path is overrun with glowing green plant life. Odd, unknown noises burp and chirp from the shadows. It begins to feel like we’re on some sort of apocalyptic walkabout. . . .

  No one laughs.

  Everyone seems to have lost the energy to chit-chat.

  We walk on in silence. . . .

  * * *

  I smell the monsters before I see them.

  The odor of evil.

  The wind carries the scent, unfiltered and raw.

  It’s foul.

  And so are our surroundings.

  Everything is warped and burnt. Homes lean back, away from where we’re headed—it’s like if they had legs, they’d get up outta there quicker than you could say “Wretches’ nest.”

  There are huge claw gashes across sidewalks and streets, like the Wretches have been using them as a scratching post.

  “There it is, up ahead,” says Johnny Steve, sounding a little sad. “Their nest.”

  I squint into the distance. Moonlight is throwing dark shadows everywhere. I see the nest—a towering silhouette, like some sort of homemade volcano. Then I see the Wretches, in shadow. They look like gargoyles come to horrible, nightmarish life.

  “It’s too dark now,” Johnny Steve says. “Your slow human legs took too long.”

  “Well, I really didn’t want to wait until tomorrow,” I say, hoping they don’t hear the lie. “But if we have to, we have to.”

  “HAVE TO, HAVE TO!” Globlet exclaims. “CAMP OUT! Can we watch Now and Then? It’s everyone’s favorite! Please!”

  Instantly, everyone’s mood brightens. We’ll say our good-byes tomorrow.

  Tonight, we just relax.

  We set up camp. I gather pine needles and kindling to build a fire. Neon “helps” by tearing chunks of siding off of houses and dropping them at my feet.

  We huddle around the cozy fire. Johnny Steve hung on to some chocolate drizzle from the ice cream truck, and I show everyone how to make bootleg s’mores.

  Johnny Steve is super impressed by the fire. “How did you make that?” he asks, his rubbery lips hanging open in awe.

  “Building fires actually is a human skill,” I tell him. “When I lived in the school, I made a fire using only a science lab magnifying glass and a pile of ungraded quizzes.”

  “Cool story,” Globlet says. “You should brag about it.”

  I poke Globlet in the side and she squeaks and giggles.

  Neon must not have been this close to fire before, because he inches toward it, curious. Ash blows off, his eyes water, his nose crinkles, and then—

  Neon leaps back, confused. He shakes his head and paws curiously at his snout.

  “No, Neon. You didn’t breathe fire. You just sneezed,” I say, laughing. “You’re not actually a dragon. You just kinda look like one.”

  He brightens at the sound of my laughter. He does it a few more times, sniffing the air until his nose crinkles, then sneezing and making the campfire roar. He looks at us for approval each time, and hops from foot to foot when Globlet giggles.

  “Neon’s a natural sneezer!” Globlet says. “Way better than you, June.”

  Johnny Steve struts over, swinging his walking sword. “Human sneezes are notoriously lame.”

  I glare at the two of them, then: “Neon, how about you show Johnny Steve your biggest, best sneeze?”

  Neon smiles. Then there is a booming—

  ACHOO!

  The stream of fire catches the blade of Johnny Steve’s walking sword, and he starts waving it around, trying to extinguish it—

  Now we’re all clutching our stomachs with laughter. When we get ourselves together, Globlet snuggles into my shoulder.

  I reach out to rub Neon’s head. He finally, reluctantly, inches toward me. I scratch his neck, silently encouraging him to come closer.

  “Hey, Neon. I’m, uh—I’m sorry,” I tell him. My words are quiet, not much louder than the crackle of the fire. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to hear those Ogres’ roars or those Rifters’ voices again, either. And you never wi
ll. ’Cause first thing tomorrow, you’re going someplace safe. I know you don’t quite understand that, but it’ll be for the best.”

  Neon yawns and rolls over in the grass. His paw is outstretched and rests against my leg. His body is cold, but it feels okay, with the campfire burning itself down to glowing embers.

  And we fall asleep like that. . . .

  chapter twenty

  I wake, but I don’t open my eyes.

  I’m not ready for today. I don’t want to take Neon to the nest.

  So I keep my eyes shut. Like maybe if I don’t open them, the day will never actually begin.

  But then I hear Neon panting. And I feel him nibbling at my foot, trying to shake me awake.

  “Morning, Neon,” I say, finally opening my eyes. He’s staring at me, waiting, giving me a look like he knows things but can’t express them.

  I sigh. I tell myself this is one of those things you just have to do, no putting it off, because that will just make it harder.

  I’m going to miss Neon.

  I’m going to miss a Wretch!

  It’s the first time I’m genuinely, 100 percent glad that my friends aren’t here. They wouldn’t understand this.

  But that’s only because they’ve never met Neon.

  And now, they never will. . . .

  Soon, Globlet is awake—stomping around, all grumpy because she hasn’t had her morning coffee. Johnny Steve does 196 jumping jacks. “As all humans do each morning,” he explains.

  Then we get to it. Packed up, headed out.

  Cresting the hill, we see the Wretches’ nest in daylight in all its terrifying glory . . .

  “Home sweet home, eh, Neon?” I say, trying to ignore the fact that I’m staring at one of the more horrifying sights I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh, neat,” Globlet says. “They have a corner just for carcasses.”

  I shoot Globlet a quick glare. We need Neon to be happy. It might be horrible-looking to us, but it’s the only safe place to leave him.