Текст книги "The Star Dwellers"

Автор книги: David Estes

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Tristan

When Ram came to get us, he said there was a “situation.” Whatever that means. He wouldn’t give us any details, but insisted that we follow him immediately. I thought about giving him a hard time, refusing to go, but decided it wasn’t worth the fight.

So now we’re traipsing back through the tunnels, along the familiar route to the honeycomb room. Elsey is humming softly while Roc whistles along. Some tune I don’t know, but that they both seem to. They are a funny pair.

I’m watching Ram’s every movement, daring him to try and hurt me again. This time I’m ready if he tries anything. To be honest, I’m somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t.

We pass through the common area, which is less filled than before, but not empty. It seems as if people are always eating in this place. My heart still feels slightly warm from my time spent with Roc and Elsey. It was nice, for a change—just being able to hang out, learn something about Roc I never knew before. My guard is down, but the walk gives me time to raise it back up. Whatever this “situation” is, it’s probably not good. Nothing in our world every really is.

We reach the same sturdy metal door as before, and Jinny is waiting for us.

“Auntie!” Elsey exclaims, running to her and hugging her around the waist.

“Ready for dinner?” Jinny says.

“Yes,” Roc and I reply simultaneously. Seems we can always eat these days.

Jinny laughs. “They’ll have food for you guys in there,” she says, motioning to the door.

“That’s what Mr. Meathead said last time,” Roc says under his breath.

I chuckle. “See ya later, El. Bye, Jinny.”

“I’ll miss you both dearly,” Elsey says, pushing the back of her hand to her forehead like she might faint.

“And you, Lady Elsey,” Roc replies in his best theater voice, generating a peal of giggles from his new best friend. Jinny smiles and shakes her head as she shepherds Elsey back the way we came.

Ram grunts and pulls open the door, holding it for us. “Ladies first,” I say, motioning for Roc to enter first.

“Age before beauty,” he returns, bowing graciously.

“I’m a day older than you.”

“And ten times uglier.” I fake a punch to his midsection and he flinches.

The cast around the table is the same as it was earlier. The Resistance leaders. Ben, at the head. Vice President Morgan at the other head, her back to us. Maia sits next to Jonas on one side, and flashes me a smile as I enter. Jonas’s expression is less friendly, his mouth a tight line. His eyes follow me to my seat.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Ben says.

“How could we refuse when you sent such a persuasive escort,” I say, watching Roc smile as he sits down. Even if no one else gets my sarcasm, at least he does. Ram grunts again from the spot he’s taken in the corner. I guess he gets it, too.

“We have a bit of a—”

“Situation? Yeah, we heard, but what does that mean exactly?” Unlike the last time I was in this room, I feel more confident. I have a better idea what to expect from the other people in the room. Vice President Morgan I know from before; Maia’s got my back; Jonas is one to watch out for, but could be an ally; Ben’s my biggest advocate. And Ram, well he’s just a bunghole. I smirk at my own thoughts.

“The President has taken over all the airwaves,” Morgan says. I like the way she calls him the President, and not your father.

“He does that all the time,” I say. “Whenever he wants to spout his propaganda.”

“True,” Ben says, “but this time it’s a message about you.”

“Wha…what?” I say, unable to prevent the slight stutter.

“It’s probably best if you see for yourself,” Morgan says, motioning to a screen that’s descended from a crack in the roof behind Ben. For living in a cave in the middle of nowhere, these people are full of surprises.

“Nice telebox,” Roc says. It’s the first thing he’s said while in this room, and his face turns a dark shade of crimson when everyone looks at him.

“It wasn’t easy secretly running lines in here,” Ben comments. “But then again, it wasn’t easy building a train network unknown to the government either.” It’s weird thinking about how Ben had another life, back before we were even born, a life involving secret trains and communication networks and the Uprising.

The dark screen turns white, and then gray bubbles buzz across it. “Acquiring signal,” a voice drones.

The screen changes, bringing up a visual that I know is from the Sun Realm, because the lighting is way too bright to be anywhere else. And because I’ve been there many times. It’s where my father conducts all his press conferences: on the steps of the government buildings. The camera pans to show the beautiful backdrop of the palace gardens. In the top corner of the screen is a message in red: Recorded earlier today.

President Nailin is at the podium. Before he speaks, there’s light applause from his admirers. “Thank you, my friends,” he says. Another round of applause. “There has been much speculation over the past couple of weeks about the state of our great Tri-Realms. Rumors of attacks by the star dwellers in the Moon Realm plague the headlines. People are worried about my son, Tristan, who went missing about the same time as the star dweller attacks began. I thank you for all of the letters and cards wishing for his safe return.” A pause. He licks his lips, scans the crowd.

“I’ve called this press conference today and will be broadcasting it for the next twenty-four hours, as I have a very important message for all citizens of the Tri-Realms. First, I can tell you that after some strong messaging from me personally, the star dwellers have ceased their attacks on the Moon Realm, and it is my understanding that the two great Realms are getting close to a peace accord. It’s a sad day indeed when any of the Realms are in disagreement with each other, and I’m so thankful I was able to step in and facilitate a peaceful resolution.”

I grit my teeth and glance at Ben, who wears a wry smile. The lies are so blatant I can barely stop myself from removing one of my boots and chucking it at the screen. This is bad, even for my father.

“Furthermore, I am so pleased to announce that Tristan has returned, safe and sound.”

“What the hell?” I blurt out. Ben points to the screen, urging me to listen to the rest.

“My son, bless his heart, left the Sun Realm seeking to find his mother, who, as you all know, disappeared a few years ago, breaking all of our hearts.” The camera pans to show the crowd, who are nodding and murmuring words of pity to the poor President, the victim of a terrible tragedy.

“Lies,” I growl through my teeth.

“Although he’s not yet ready to stand in front of all of you, or resume his duties as my son, he asked me to apologize to all of you on his behalf, for putting the Sun Realm through such a trying ordeal. My youngest son, Killen, will, effective immediately, stand in for Tristan, fulfilling all the duties of the eldest son. Please show him your appreciation as I do.”

As Killen walks across the white rock platform to stand behind the podium, my father claps loudly, leading a roar of applause from the crowd. My jaw is aching from clenching it so hard.

Killen’s face is lit up in a smile that reminds me so much of my father. Arrogant. Smug. Looking down on his worshippers. I hate him in that moment. “My friends,” he says, using the same greeting as my father, “I am so pleased to be able to serve you.” Scripted. My father’s words—not his—but he pulls it off. He’s a natural at BS.

“My first order of business is to lead the rebuilding of the Moon Realm after the careless star dweller bombings. To the people of the Moon Realm, I say, do not fear, help is on the way.”

The reply is deafening. Shouts of “Thank you, Killen” and “We love you!” fill the air.

My brother uses his bobbing arms to quiet the crowd. “And then I will personally meet with the star and moon dweller leaders to help them work out their differences, to once again restore peace to the Tri-Realms.” More applause. More screams.

My fingernails are scraping the table and if Ben didn’t turn off the telebox right then, I fear my fingers would be cut and bleeding soon.

I stand up, cracking my knuckles. I’m seething, my emotions out of control, like a tidal wave of rage, but I don’t care. All I want is revenge. “I’ll go public—prove him wrong. Turn the people against him.”

Ben sighs. “He’s controlling everything right now, Tristan. We can’t get a message out to everyone. And even if we could, he’d just counter with another message refuting it. Who do you think the people will believe? The President, or his rogue son who’s desperately seeking his runaway mom?”

I stand there, my chest puffing in and out, my arms tight at my sides, my hands fisted. “Urr,” I growl and then sit back down. I feel better. I just needed to get the anger out. “I’m okay now,” I say. “Let’s talk about it.” Roc’s looking at me strangely, like I’m a weird new animal species who’s just demonstrated a bizarre mating ritual. I ignore him.

“There’s something else,” Morgan says. I groan inwardly. What else could there be? “Shortly after the initial broadcast from the President, he sent a typed message to all the moon dweller vice presidents. He said if any of them are harboring his son, to pass the message along to him.”

“So he admitted to his lies. We’ve got him,” Maia says, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Not exactly,” Ben says. “The message also warned them that if anyone tries to make the information public, that he would deny it, and destroy them. I don’t think any of the VPs, with the exception of VP Morgan here”—he motions across the table—“would be willing to go head-to-head with Nailin. They know what he’s capable of.”

“And if Morgan tries to do something, he’ll make an example of her,” I say. I know my father’s tactics all too well.

“This is good news,” Roc says suddenly, and all eyes shift to him. He raises a cheek and chews on the side of his mouth for a second, and then says, “If he sent the message to all the VPs, then he doesn’t have a clue where we’re hiding. So that’s good, right?”

He has a point. It’s not often my father is so in the dark about the goings-on in his own kingdom. It’s an advantage, albeit a small one.

“That’s a good point, Roc,” Ben says, nodding. Roc grins. I knew there was a reason I wanted him with me at these meetings.

“So what message did my loving father give me?” I ask.

Ben has a paper in front of him and he consults it, using his finger to guide his eyes across the page. “He said, ‘Tell Tristan he must contact me within twenty-four hours or I’ll start killing moon dwellers.’”

I cringe. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“He provides information on how to reach him directly from the Moon Realm.”

“Of course I’ll do it,” I say. “It’s not like he can do anything to me over a videoconference.”

“There’s one other thing,” Ben says.

“Yeah?”

“He wants Roc with you when you call him.”

“Roc? Why?”

“You tell me.”

Roc and I look at each other. His face wears the same expression I expect I’m wearing. Confusion. I don’t have the slightest idea what my father could want with Roc. I mean, in my eyes Roc is an amazing person, my best friend, but in my father’s eyes, he’s just a servant. Scum. No—lower than scum. Fungus on scum. Of no concern to him. And yet…there must be a reason he wants him there. And not an honorable reason. A way to get to me.

“I have no idea,” I say, while Roc shakes his head. “When can we do it?” I ask. I’m curious now, which probably means I’m falling right into my father’s trap, but I don’t care—I have to know what he’s playing at.

“Right now,” Ben says, standing up and pushing back his chair. “He said you must do it alone.”

“Fine. Will you be listening?”

“He said he would know if it was being transmitted to multiple receivers or being recorded. I don’t want to take the chance. You can give us the details afterward.”

I nod. “You ready?” I ask Roc.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’m ready.”

Chapter Thirteen

Adele

My life feels complete for the first time in a long time. I mean, we’re not one big happy family or anything, but at least my mom, dad, and sister are all alive and okay and I’ve been able to see them all recently. That’s about as good as it gets these days. So you’d think that would mean maybe I’d be at peace, or something like it, but instead, I’m throwing everything I have into training.

And that feels the most normal of all.

I grunt as our wooden staffs connect in the middle. The raw power of my opponent allows him to shove me backwards, crushing the wood into my lip. I taste coppery blood in my mouth as it splits open. He charges, swinging the rod back and forth like a sword. Use all parts of your body. I hear my father’s voice in my head and I obey, ducking my enemy’s attempted blow, crushing his kneecap with my heel, and slamming my elbow into his jaw. I take his head off. Not literally, but his head snaps back and he tumbles to the rock, yowling in pain.

Jamming the butt of my staff into his throat, I say, “Do you submit?”

He’s discarded his own staff and is rubbing his jaw and clutching his knee. “Uhhh,” he moans.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmur, moving away from him and out of the ring. It’s my fourth staff victory in a row. The dude was twice my size, but in some fights, size doesn’t matter.

Someone’s clapping. Brody. He’s been clapping after each of my victories. Beyond him I see Tawni and she gives me a thumbs-up. Next to her Trevor is glaring at me. There’s something not right about that guy.

Ignoring him, I stride over to the next station, archery, and pick up the bow. It’s brand new and practically sparkling. The arrow is like a violin bow as I move it along the catgut string. Although the target is at least two hundred feet away, I pull it toward me with my eyes, until it’s just in front of me, the bull’s eye like a throbbing red beacon. I make small movements, just like I’ve been taught, until I’m certain my aim is true.

Twang!

The bow sings and my arrow cuts sharply through the murky air, embedding itself in the dead center of the target.

“Another perfect shot—four for four,” Brody says, resuming his clap. “You’re doing well, Rose.”

“I completely missed the gun target,” I say, frowning.

“It was one shot,” Brody says, flashing a smile. “You’ll get better. I can teach you.”

“Really?” I say, lowering my voice so no one will hear our conversation. I don’t want to be accused of getting special treatment because of my mom, but I do want to learn how to shoot. I don’t know where it comes from—my drive. For some reason, ever since I was little, I’ve had to be the best at anything I try. Nothing less is acceptable. Anything less is failure.

I don’t want to shoot a gun, but if I have to, I will be the best at it.

“Sure. A lot of the soldiers get additional help on the side at the things they’re not natural at.” I make a face, and Brody says hurriedly, “Not that you’re not a natural—I mean, given your proficiency at archery you might be just as good with a gun once you get the hang of it.”

I crack a smile, finally releasing some of the tension I’ve felt all day. “I was just giving you a hard time,” I say, and Brody grins, pushing his dark hair away from his eyes. For the first time I notice just how good looking he is. Perhaps it’s because I’ve let my guard down, if only for a moment. The blue and green in his eyes seem to swirl around, sometimes mixing, sometimes separated. With his smile, a dimple forms in one of his cheeks and his strong cheekbones rise high on his face. His longish, wavy hair suits his face perfectly. Between his looks and his personality, he’s the type of guy I’d like to have as an older brother.

I realize I’ve gone into a daze thinking about Brody as a brother and he’s looking at me funny.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. What’s next?”

“That’s it,” he says cheerfully. “No mandatory training until tomorrow. Meet me here tomorrow morning at oh-six-hundred hours for personal gun training.” The way he emphasizes the word personal sounds odd. And then I realize: he’s flirting with me.

Without a word, I spin and walk away, hoping it didn’t come off as too rude, but hoping I’m sending some pretty strong signals Brody’s way. I’m not interested.

As I meet up with Tawni, I try to push all thoughts of Brody out of my head.

“You were amazing!” she says as I walk up.

“Yeah, but only at the things I’ve done before,” I point out.

“You’ll improve with those nasty guns,” Tawni says in a way that makes me smile.

“Don’t count on it,” Trevor says. “You can’t be perfect at everything.”

“What is your problem?” I say, letting my anger get the best of me. I know he’s not worth the effort, but I just can’t seem to push down the heat when I’m around him.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says snidely.

“You two bicker like you’re brother and sister,” Tawni says, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“We do not!” we say simultaneously. The laugh comes before I can stifle it, and I realize Trevor’s cracking up, too. It’s a weird moment, but I see a burst of humanity in him, like he’s not such a bad guy.

In an instant, his sneer wipes out the laugh with the speed of a cave-in. “For your information,” he says, “I don’t trust you.”

“But my mom’s a general,” I say, hating to use my mom like that, but feeling the need to point out where my loyalties lie.

“That means nothing,” he says. “There are rumors that you and Tristan Nailin were seen together in the Moon Realm. I don’t trust him, so I don’t trust you.” I don’t want to talk about me and Tristan, and I know it’s not worth arguing, so I don’t.

“It’s not like I trust you either.” There’s just something strange about Trevor, and I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like he doesn’t belong in this place. If anyone might be a traitor, it’s him. “Why are you always hanging around us, anyway?” I ask, my voice sounding as rough as the cavern roof above us.

“The General’s orders,” he replies simply.

“Which general?”

“General Rose.” What? Really? Why would my mom give us a babysitter, especially one like Trevor?

I huff, but don’t respond. I’ll speak to my mom about getting a new escort the next time I see her.

As we head toward the office building, a soldier comes around the corner, wheeling a cart. It’s full of weapons, black and silver and new and shiny. Guns mostly, but bows and slingshots, too. My mind races back to the first time I touched the gun during target practice. I don’t know much about guns, but it looked like a nice weapon. The star dweller army seems extremely well-equipped. First the bombs used during the attacks on the Moon Realm, and now a seemingly unlimited supply of high-quality infantry weaponry. Seems strange for a people who are living in poverty—I mean, I’ve seen the poverty on the streets; they’re at the bottom of the food chain.

“Where are all the weapons coming from?” I ask. Trevor is probably the last person I should be asking, but I can’t help myself. The answer to that question suddenly seems like the most important thing in the world.

Trevor cocks his head to the side and gazes past Tawni, who’s walking between us. He chews on his lip for a moment, as if he’s mulling over the question, or perhaps how to concoct a believable lie. “That’s none of your damn business,” he says.

“It’s a simple question,” I say. “It takes money to buy weapons, or resources to make them—neither of which the star dwellers have. And yet, you’ve got more shiny, new weapons than the freaking Moon Realm.” I’m practically growling now, sick of putting up with Trevor’s crap.

“The Star Realm’s got plenty of resources,” he says.

“Yeah, all of which you hand over to the Sun Realm. You really think they wouldn’t miss a few tons of ore? They keep track of everything. They’re not stupid.”

“I never said they were!” Trevor yells, and I stop. His quick temper, the snarl on his face, his unwillingness to tell me anything: all of it makes me hate him.

“I want to see my mother,” I say.

“She’s busy.”

“Just tell her.”

“Fine,” Trevor says, stalking off and leaving Tawni and me alone for the first time since we woke up next to each other.

“You still think he’s okay?” I say once he’s gone.

“I don’t know,” Tawni says. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right.”

“You think he’s involved in something?”

“Yep.”

“Your mom will know what to do.”

“Yeah,” I say. My stomach grumbles. “You hungry?”

“I could eat,” Tawni says, and we laugh together. It’s what Cole always used to say. Her laugh turns sullen and I see moisture in her eyes. “I really miss him,” she says.

“I know. Me too.”

She grabs my arm at the elbow, her touch feeling warm and safe against my skin, and we enter the building together. First we stop at my mom’s office, but the door’s closed and locked and there’s no answer when we knock.

“I guess she’s out,” I say.

“I wonder where the food is.”

“It would have been nice of Trevor to let us know before he stormed off.”

“We’ve got some food left in our packs,” Tawni says thoughtfully.

I’m not particularly interested in the stiff, cardboard-like wafers we’ve got in our packs, but I don’t have a better option. “Okay, let’s go.”

We retrace our way through the narrow streets, stepping over the beggars—who seem to have multiplied—and stray dogs sleeping on the cobblestone. We see a guy defecating against the wall and my stomach turns. Horrible. This place is horrible. And I thought the Moon Realm was a hard place. I don’t know how my mom stands it.

We arrive at the medical building without interacting with anyone, and slip through the maze of sick beds. Instinctively I hold my breath, not wanting to breathe in the raft of potential disease and bacteria that flavor the air like an invisible cloud. I know it’s silly, especially because I’ve been sleeping in this room for days, but when I do breathe, I cover my face with my hand like a mask.

Just before we reach our beds, Tawni shrieks as a woman grabs the side of her tunic, her hands clenched and gnarled and pale. Her gray skin is covered in sores and blisters, but beneath the flesh-eating disease I can tell she’s young. Older than us, but probably only in her mid-twenties. A soldier, possibly. I’m still not sure if the wing is military only.

Tawni tries to pull away, but the dying woman’s hands are stronger than they look, latched onto the cloth like pincers. “Help…me,” she croaks through chapped lips. Her eyes are so bloodshot I can’t determine the color.

“What do I do?” Tawni asks, her mouth contorted with horror.

Tawni is too pure, whereas I am not. I’ve killed already. I’m a bad person already. I kick the lady’s arm, not too hard, but hard enough that I know she’ll let go. Her hand snaps back and she cries out, tucking her hand back beneath the thin white sheet that covers her.

I slink past, hating myself. There’s nothing I can do for the woman. I’m no doctor. And I certainly don’t want to catch what she’s got.

Tawni sits on the bed, breathing heavily. “Thanks,” she says, looking up at me.

“I’m good at kicking,” I say, trying to make a joke.

She gives me a courtesy smile, but I can tell she’s not up for humor right now. The thing with the woman really affected her. “What can we do for these people?” she asks, her light blue eyes questioning.

“Nothing for them individually,” I say. “But perhaps a rebellion could help us all.”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like more violence is the answer to anything.”

I know what she means. “The star dwellers should never have attacked the Moon Realm,” I agree. “That was the wrong way to go about things. But maybe my mom and dad can set things right. If we can just unite the two Realms like my father said, then maybe…” I trail off, unsure of where I’m going with it.

“Maybe it will make a difference,” Tawni finishes.

I shrug. “Maybe.” I don’t even convince myself. Everything seems so out of control—like a lost cause.

“Why were you asking Trevor about the guns?” Tawni asks.

My dark mood disappears as my focus returns to my thoughts from earlier. I lay back onto the bed, thinking furiously. Something jabs me in my lower back. “Oww!” I yelp, turning to the side to grab at the thing. My hand closes on the steel and I remove the gun from beneath my tunic.

Tawni lies down next to me and we both stare at the weapon, as I turn it over and over in my hands. It’s different than the gun I fired earlier. Older, marred by time, with scratches on the handle and barrel. And etched just above the trigger: Rose.

Tawni notices it at the same time as me and says, “It was your mom’s gun.”

I rub my fingers over the engraving, tracing the lines of each letter. “From the Uprising,” I say thoughtfully. It’s like she’s passing the torch to me. She’s done her part—now I have to do mine. I wonder how many times she’s fired this gun, how many times she’s killed with it.

“You would think all the guns would be old like this one,” Tawni says. She’s smart—Tawni. Not only a good person, but a real thinker.

“Exactly,” I say. “Something’s going on, and I think Trevor’s involved. That’s why he got so defensive when I asked him about it.”

Sitting up, Tawni reaches down and retrieves our packs from underneath the bed. “Can we eat somewhere else? This place is depressing.”

We take our packs with us, as we won’t be coming back to the medical ward to sleep again. On the quiet balls of our feet, we weave our way back through the beds, careful to avoid any reaching hands, and exit back into the shadowy cavern. I know it’s the middle of the day, but it always seems like night is falling in the Star Realm. The amount of electricity they’re rationed is unforgivable.

“Where should we go?” I ask. The thought of eating in the streets with the beggars isn’t ideal. But I also have no desire to go back to the military buildings—not yet.

“Are you starving? Or can we explore a bit, maybe find a better spot?”

I’m used to being hungry—I’ve been hungry my whole life.

We move through the streets, passing dozens of homeless people, who seem to be the majority. Although we should be paying attention to where we’re going, we don’t, making a left turn, then a right, then another left, zigzagging through the subchapter. Every street looks the same. Narrow. Dirty. Beggars. Stray animals. The smell is awful, but I’m getting used to it. I guess it’s what it’s like to be a garbage man—at some point you just adapt.

The next street is a light commercial district, although most of the shops are boarded up and empty. The sides of the buildings are covered with spray paint. Some of it’s pretty good actually, showing that even delinquents have talent. One in particular catches my eye, a massive, colorful mural of a red dragon. The message is dark, with the dragon breathing bright orange flames on a group of people, setting their clothes on fire before they can flee. Their expressions are filled with horror. I shiver. But most of it is just random scribbles, or obscene messages about someone’s mother, or where to go for a good time.

A couple of grizzly men light up cigarettes as we pass by, staring at us with dark eyes cast in shadow by their hats. The tips of their smokes appear bright against the dim backdrop. When I look back at them they remove their hats and I cringe as their fully tattooed faces are revealed, gleaming with metal piercings in their eyebrows, noses, lips, and chins. They laugh at me, deep and throaty, and I usher Tawni forward at double the speed.

We make another left and enter the narrowest alleyway of all. To our surprise, it’s deserted. After the other streets, which were jammed with beggars sitting shoulder to shoulder, this one seems peaceful, serene even. I was hoping for some kind of a big plaza, with high-backed stone benches and the soothing sign of a bubbling, decorative fountain, but I don’t think that exists in this world, so I stop.

“Want to eat here?” Tawni asks, reading my mind.

“It’s as good a spot as any, I reckon,” I reply, sliding my back down the wall. I look up and see the building rise three stories before connecting with the low cavern ceiling. All the buildings are built all the way to the top of the cavern, out of necessity, I expect. With a growing population and limited space, the star dwellers are forced to use every last square inch. I thought we had it bad in the Moon Realm, but at least we had space to spread out. The subchapter 14 cavern feels like a land of plenty compared to this foreign country. My heart beats rapidly as I realize how spoiled I’ve been.

Tawni slides in next to me, sitting close, our shoulders touching like the street beggars. We each open a pack and retrieve some wafers. I know they won’t satisfy my hunger, but at least they might stop the gnawing pain in my gut.

“You know, the star dweller army probably provides better food to the soldiers,” Tawni says.

“I expect so.”

“Maybe we can have dinner there.”

“Sounds good.”

We munch for a few minutes in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Just as I’m finishing my third wafer, a sound breaks the silence. A cry, soft and pitiful, carries down the alley. It sounds weak and childish, like a baby or a small kid. Peering into the gloom, I see a boy, no more than five, his face red and tear-stained. I watch, slow to action due to my surprise, as the kid staggers forward and then collapses face first, barely cushioning his fall with his hands.

I spring to my feet and race to him, expecting the worst, like maybe he’s contracted a fast-killing disease, or been shot by some thug on the streets. Any number of atrocities seem like a viable option in this place. I hear the soles of Tawni’s shoes clapping the stone behind me as she follows.

When we get within a few steps of the boy, he miraculously springs to his feet, whoops, and then darts away, his small legs churning like the propellers on the boats in subchapter 19 of the Moon Realm.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” I shout, but the boy just keeps on running. I start to chase him, but stop when Tawni yells something behind me. Whirling around, I see her running back toward our packs. Past her a group of kids are whooping and hollering and—