Sky on Fire

by Emmy Laybourne

  He had let the kids out of the Train and they were ecstatic that he was back.

  They were cooking s’mores over the camp cook stove. I could see the remains of a hot dog and baked beans meal. There was smoke and everything—just like a real cookout.

  Luna sat at Jake’s feet, wagging her tail blissfully.

  Astrid and I were sweaty and mussed.

  We took our masks off as we approached them.

  A weird kind of lie, I guess. That we’d had our masks on the whole time. That we hadn’t gone insane and had sex.

  “Hey, you two,” Jake slurred, his back to us. “I was so hungry, we just cooked up some franks and beans. I hope you guys don’t mind.”

  “The wall’s back up,” Astrid said, bustling off her sweatshirt and tossing the air mask on the empty futon couch. “We need to reinforce it, but it’s pretty solid.”

  “Look at my gal. She can do anything,” Jake said to the kids. “I missed her so much! I missed you all, of course, but ’specially my gal, Astrid!”

  “We missed you, too, Uncle Jake,” Caroline chirped.

  She and Henry were toasting marshmallows over the blue butane flame.

  “Look,” Henry said. “I got mine perfect golden.”

  “That’s how our mom likes it, just golden with no burnt parts,” Caroline added.

  “Takes patience, though,” Henry commented.

  “And a steady hand.”

  “I just like mine burned,” Chloe said, putting her marshmallow into the center of the flame. “Look—I’m the Statue of Liberty!” She held her blazing marshmallow up high.

  “Careful!” Astrid snapped. “You’ll burn someone.”

  “That’s always the risk!” Jake said.

  He looked up at us and his head lolled off to the side and he caught it and grinned even wider.

  “The air’s fine here. No symptoms. Right, kiddos? Chloe’s feeling just fine. We must be far enough away from the hole.”

  “Come on,” Jake slurred. “We got Stay Pufts aplenty.”

  “I’m going to go change clothes,” Astrid said. “I feel dirty.”

  Jake watched her leave, a glassy look in his eyes.

  “Sit down, Dean,” Jake called. “Stay awhile.”

  He was definitely high on the same stuff he’d been taking before. Jake turned to the twins.

  “Henry, d’ya know what they say about assumptions?”

  “What?” Henry asked, bright as a penny.

  “Chloe, do you know?”

  “No. What?” she asked.

  “Assumptions make an ass out of u and me!”

  They all thought that was hilarious.

  “Dean knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, Dean?” He elbowed me in the ribs.

  “Jake, what are you talking about?”

  “Here I am, assuming everything will be the way I left it. But of course, how could it be? I’ve been gone for, what, two days? Two frickin’ days?”

  “Is ‘frickin’ the f-word?” Henry asked.

  “Yep,” Jake answered. “It sure is.”

  “Told you,” he said to his sister.

  Caroline yawned again.

  “I think I’d better check your bandage, Caroline,” I said. “And it might be time for your medication.”

  “Aw, don’t go,” Jake said.

  He tried to clap his hand on my shoulder and missed somehow, toppling over.

  The kids thought this was the funniest thing ever.

  “Oh, Uncle Jake!” Caroline squealed. “You’re such a card.”

  “Uncle Jake?” I asked. “Why’s he an uncle, all of a sudden?”

  “We decided,” Henry said. “Astrid’s the mom and you’re the dad and Jake’s the uncle.”

  Oh, boy. Why are kids so … perceptive all the time?

  To tell the truth, I liked their idea of the perfect Greenway family. But their timing sucked.

  “Yeah.” Jake laughed—a tinge of desperation thrown in there. “They got it. They got it right. I mean, really, that’s about the long and short of it.”

  He got to his feet. He was moving slow, like an old man. A drunk old man.

  “Kids,” he said. “You’ll have to excuse me. But I’m so tired I feel like I could cry blood.”

  And he staggered back into the berths.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALEX

  26–22 MILES

  Everyone woke up around 7 (just like they would have in the store).

  We all woke up hungry and Niko doled out 1⁄3 can of tuna for each of us and ¼ of a power bar.

  Jean was moved to generosity by this and gave everyone a can of Fresca.

  Warm Fresca and dry tuna. Yum.

  Sahalia let it slip that she had some gum, but wouldn’t share it. Not one little stick. Fortunately, Jean let me rub some toothpaste around on my gums so I wouldn’t have breath like I ate a donkey’s butt all day.

  I would have thought that we would all want to stay there in the trailer for as long as possible, but surprisingly enough, we do not.

  I’m writing this last piece, then we’re going. I think it was because it was so small in there. We were all on top of one another.

  And when the kids heard that the Army guys are only 10 miles away, everyone got excited.

  “We can make 10 miles no problem!” Max crowed. “We can do 10 miles in our sleep!”

  “Yes, sir, that’s my baby. No, sir, don’t mean maybe!” Ulysses sang in his Mexican accent. Where he learned that, I could not say.

  “I don’t know,” Batiste said. “10 miles is a lot.”

  “It’s going to be hard work, but I know we can make it,” Josie said, patting Batiste on the arm. She’s always very encouraging for the little kids. I think that even if we were marching off a cliff, she’d keep everyone peppy and excited.

  “But Max is staying,” Jean asserted. “Baby, you’re home now and I’ll keep you real safe here with me. You’re staying, right, pally?”

  Max thought about it for maybe 3 seconds.

  “No offense, Auntie Jean, but these guys is just as much family as you is.”

  “But I’m a grown-up, Max! And maybe your dad’ll come here looking for me!”

  Max screwed up his face like he really didn’t think so.

  Jean got down on the floor and looked him right in the eye. “This is your best chance, hun. You’re staying!”

  “Auntie Jean, you ever meet my dog, Lucky?” Max said. “I had this dog named Lucky and he was a mutt what we found out back of the Safeway and he was missing one eye. And my dad says, ‘Aw, they did right to put him out with the trash, son. That dog’s no good.’ But I swore and swore I’d take good care of him if they’d let me keep him and my mom said, ‘Over my dead body,’ and then my dad said, ‘Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,’ and that’s around when my dad moved out. Anyway, I took Lucky to the free animal clinic and they sprayed him and gave me worm drops for him and also cut off his man parts. He cleaned up real good. But my mom still hated him. I don’t know why.”

  “Honey, all I’m saying is I want you here with me—” Jean tried to interrupt.

  I guess she’d never heard Max tell a story. He just continued right on.

  “So then for Christmas, my mom goes and gets me a brand-new puppy from the actual pet store. A Chow, real fluffy with a bow. And she goes, ‘You can keep this new one, baby, but you gotta let me take old Lucky to the shelter,’ and I said, ‘No way.’ Oh, she yelled and put up a fuss and said how do you not want this darling fluffy Chow and instead you want that mangy, stinky so-and-so.”

  “I just think you’ll be safer here—”

  “And then she went and gave that Chow dog to her sister Raylene and played it off like she always had meant it to be for her anyways. Well, then on the last day of vacation, do you know what happened?” Max asked us all. “I was walking in the lot behind the sewage treatment plant and Lucky starts barking his head off and what do I see? I’m about to step on a rattlesnake! It’
s just there sleeping over the slops tank, where the ground is nice an’ hot and it’s shaking its tail and hissing at me, and then Lucky rushes forward and bites the thing on its neck and kills it dead!”

  He looked at us, as if his story completely answered Jean’s concerns.

  After a few moments, she said, “Honey, I don’t understand that story. What does it mean?”

  “It means stick with the dog you know, Auntie Jean,” Max told her. “Stick with the dog you know.”

  * * *

  Niko wants us all to drink lots of water. He’s made the point that the kids who need to keep their masks on will not be able to drink out there. I keep forgetting that, but he’s right. If they lift their masks, they’ll get a hit of the compounds and they could die.

  Or Josie could turn into an O monster and kill us all.

  Jean had the idea that we should take some cigarettes with us. Then we could get into a car and Sahalia and I could fill it with smoke and then the others could take off their masks to drink.

  Sounds like a lot of work just to get a drink but it’s what we’ll have to do. We do not really need to be concerned with the harmful effects of cigarette smoke, at this point.

  Jean gave Niko 3 packs, which is a pretty expensive gift.

  All the while she was crying and made Niko promise if we get to help to send someone back for her.

  * * *

  We left the trailer park and followed the toll road.

  Niko had us walk in this order: him, then Max and Ulysses, holding hands, then Sahalia, then me and Batiste, holding hands, then Josie at the rear.

  It bothered me that I had to hold hands with Batiste, but I got used to it. And he was really scared, so it was a good idea.

  Only Niko was allowed to have a flashlight. He was right, because when the little kids had them, they’d shine them all around and that was worse than not seeing because every so often they’d find a body and then they’d scream and cry.

  Niko kept his light on the ground. A few feet in front of us. Steady and measured.

  It’s hard to walk in the dark, but it was sort of okay, because it was like we had blinders on. We couldn’t see to the left or the right, just where the flashlight was.

  We didn’t walk on the road. Niko felt we might be attacked.

  Instead we walked on the side about 20 feet off, parallel to the road.

  On the road were lots of cars and lots of bodies. Things were molding over, the white fuzz growing in drifts over cars and bodies.

  It made me think of Mr. Culleton, in Earth Studies, and our block on composting. He said that in a compost pile, things returned to their most dense, nutritive form.

  If the sun ever comes back, maybe this will be the best farmland ever.

  I know that’s a stretch, but that’s the only nice thing I can think of to say about all the slime and mold.

  Anyway, we walked.

  And Batiste got blisters, which he told me, and he got thirsty, which he told me, and he got hungry, which he told me.

  And I said, “I’m sorry about that, Batiste,” every time and it actually seemed to help him. Then I’d give his hand a squeeze and that also seemed to help him.

  It was a hard, hard walk.

  Finally, Niko led us back up to the road. He started flashing the light into cars.

  I nudged Batiste. “I bet we’re going to stop for a water break!”

  He smiled at me, and squeezed my hand.

  Niko flashed the light in a few cars, but there were bodies in them. He made us stand back from him and wouldn’t let us look in.

  I didn’t mind standing back. I didn’t need to see any more bodies and none of the little kids did either.

  On some cars, Niko tried the doors but couldn’t get them open.

  Then, suddenly, he ducked down and motioned for us all to duck down. He cut the light.

  A motorcycle was coming.

  It darted and veered between the cars. The light seemed really bright and it made me realize that my eyes had become somewhat adjusted to the darkness.

  It came closer and closer.

  It was a biker guy wearing goggles—he had a long beard and a leather jacket and everything. And riding on the back was a little old man. He had a snow hat on and a jacket that seemed way too big for him.

  They went right by and didn’t see us at all.

  “Maybe it’s his father,” said Batiste.

  “Most likely,” I agreed. “Or just someone the biker found and wanted to save.”

  He must have had the bike stored away somewhere airtight, like our bus.

  I wondered how long the tires on our bus had lasted. I hoped that they had rotted to shreds.

  Niko found a car. It was a silver Nissan Murano.

  He waved us over and we hurried and got into the car. Max and Ulysses flopped down in the way back. I sat in the backseat with Sahalia. Batiste and Niko and Josie were up front. Like a family car trip. Except not at all.

  Sahalia and I got out the cigarettes and started puffing away.

  Do you know how awful cigarettes are? The smoke gets in your chest and makes you cough. You do get a nice feeling in your brain. A kind of openness. But that’s it.

  I was blowing smoke toward the back and Sahalia toward the front.

  “Is smoking a sin?” Batiste asked Niko.

  “No,” Niko answered. “It’s unhealthy, but it’s not a sin.”

  “Then I guess I’ll smoke, too.”

  “Okay,” Niko shrugged.

  “No fair!” Max and Ulysses protested.

  Sahalia lit a cigarette for Batiste and passed it to him.

  “Don’t inhale too much,” she warned. “Or you’ll puke.”

  I held my cigarette between my pointer finger and my thumb, but Batiste had his between his first two fingers—like a V. He looked like a little Frenchman.

  Sahalia watched him for a second and then snorted with laughter.

  Batiste pricked up one eyebrow and said, “What?”

  Somehow, that was just too funny.

  Him all grimy, wearing God knows how many layers, but with a clean, round face and his hat perched on his head and the cigarette.

  We all started laughing.

  The laughing was that boiling-over kind. The kind that brings you to tears and makes you gasp for air.

  When we stopped laughing I saw that Max had taken his mask off.

  He seemed fine. He was laughing his head off.

  Niko took off his mask and then Josie.

  “It does seem to work,” Niko said, “The smoke.”

  “We’ll all get lung cancer,” Josie said grimly.

  This, too, seemed really funny and we all started laughing again.

  Josie rolled her eyes and gulped down some water.

  Niko handed out the protein bars.

  “Thank you, God, for this food, amen,” Batiste said quickly before digging in to his bar.

  “Niko, is it true what that cadet guy said?” Max asked.

  “About what?”

  “About them killing people at the airport,” he murmured.

  “No chance,” Niko said. “He was either lying or paranoid.”

  “What’s this?” Josie asked, concerned.

  Niko explained what Payton had told us.

  “If I could get my hands on that guy!” she growled.

  She cracked her neck. Ulysses, watching her, started to whimper. His eyes looked dilated—not at all right.

  “No. Nope,” she said. “I’m starting to feel it. The smoke isn’t working!”

  Then she put her mask back on.

  Max coughed and let out a cry.

  The mitten he’d coughed into was bloody.

  “Put your mask back on!” Niko shouted. Ulysses screamed, backing away from Max.

  “You, too, Ulysses! Help him!” Niko commanded Sahalia and me.

  Sahalia and I tried to reach back and help Ulysses get his mask on but Ulysses batted at Sahalia’s hands, crying out in Spanish
.

  Finally I grabbed him by the back of the collar and Sahalia got the mask on.

  Max hugged his friend, pinning his arms down. “It’s okay, Ulysses. It’s just us. It’s just us.”

  Ulysses calmed down after a few minutes.

  So much for the smoky car idea.

  But at least we’d gotten some water and a snack.

  “Let’s move out,” Niko said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DEAN

  DAY 14

  I dreamed of Astrid all night.

  We hadn’t spoken much after Jake went to bed.

  Every time I looked at her, my face got painfully hot, so I tried not to look her way too often. She seemed to be giving me some space, too.

  But after the kids went to bed, I had a thought.

  “Hey, I’m worried about the gun,” I said.

  “What gun?” she asked.

  “Jake has the other gun. The one we got from Robbie and Mr. Appleton. I’m scared he might get really depressed and … use it.”

  “Oh God,” Astrid said, realizing my meaning. “You’re worried he has the gun and might kill himself?”

  “I don’t know him as well as you do, obviously. But those drugs are powerful.”

  “Well, he doesn’t have the gun,” she told me. She was studying her feet.

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me.”

  “Well…” I exhaled, suddenly frustrated with him. “Where is it? What did he do with it?”

  Astrid let out a short, hard laugh.

  “He gave it to some girl.”

  And she edged away from me. She still wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  * * *

  I started to feel bad, really bad, about what had happened between us.

  I mean, dear God, had I forced her? She seemed as eager as I was, but in an O state, who knows. I had killed in that state—I was sure I could do a terrible thing to a girl.

  Had I?

  I felt sick.

  And as tired as I was, sleep didn’t come easy.

  I always thought losing my virginity would be a life-changing thing. At the very least, I thought I’d feel relieved.

  But instead of relief, I felt guilt and worry.

  And, on top of it all, was there a chance we’d hurt Astrid’s baby? I mean, ugh … I was in way over my head.