Текст книги "The Moon Dwellers"
Автор книги: David Estes
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“Will he still be pissed off at me?” I ask, frowning.
Tawni laughs. “Don’t worry about him. Sometimes he has a bit of a temper, but he makes up for it by forgiving and forgetting faster than anyone I know.” Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Tawni rises, offering her hand to help me up. I take it.
I allow myself to be pulled down the hall. Already some of the juveniles are leaving the cafeteria, looking unsatisfied by their breakfasts, heading outside for another long, boring day spent lounging in the yard.
When we enter the crowded eatery, I notice Cole right away, sitting alone in the corner. Thankfully, he is facing away from us, so he doesn’t stare at us as we approach. When Tawni slides onto the bench across from him and he sees her tearstained face, he nearly knocks over the table as he leaps to his feet.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he says. His eyes flit back and forth between Tawni and me, one minute showing concern for his friend and the other angry and glaring, like how he’d looked at the janitor’s closet before.
“I’m fine. Please calm down, Cole,” Tawni says, reaching across the table to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. At first his body stiffens at her touch, but then he relaxes and melts back into his seat. For a second I am jealous of the kind of relationship they have. It is a true friendship in every sense of the word. I’ve never had that kind of friendship—probably never will. There isn’t room for it in my world.
I tense up, waiting for the next spout of anger from Cole. It doesn’t come.
“I’m sorry,” Cole says.
Never would I have expected those to be his next words. To be honest, I don’t understand why he should speak them.
“What for?” I say.
The corners of Cole’s mouth turn up slightly, a complete one-eighty from his tense expression a moment earlier. The steely twinkle I saw in his eyes the day before is back. “For my temper,” he says. “Tawni tries to help me with it, but it usually gets the better of me. Sneaking around and spying on us wasn’t right, but my reaction was even worse. I should’ve let you explain.”
“Thanks,” I say. Tawni’s crying coupled with Cole’s quick forgiveness makes me feel even worse about what I’ve done. But at least I haven’t lost my new friends—at least not yet. I’m sure I will do something else to screw it up soon enough though. “And I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I won’t do it again.”
Cole dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “Even,” he says. The way he says it makes me believe my transgression is like a distant memory to him, soon to be forgotten entirely. Tawni wasn’t kidding about him.
“Can I get you something to eat?” she says.
I nod, sliding out of the booth to let her past. “Anything not green, not slimy, and not still moving,” I say wryly.
Cole chuckles. “Good luck with that,” he says.
Tawni marches off, her hands fisted and her head firm, as if she’s on a mission. Meeting my criteria will be a mission, I think.
When Tawni is gone, Cole says, “How are you feeling?”
“Feeling?” I say absently, trying to decide how to respond. In truth, I have no idea how I am feeling. In the last twenty-four hours a lot has changed in my life. Two new friends, my strange eye contact with the President’s son, my dad being alive: it is all too much to take in, to process. I mean, I am happy—no, make that extremely happy, ecstatic, over the moon—that my dad might be okay, but it feels weird, too. For one thing I don’t know anything about my mom’s whereabouts. Also, for the last six months I’ve been trying to come to terms with the possibility that my parents are dead, executed as a traitors. Now there’s hope that at least one of them is alive…I dunno, it just feels weird. Then again, I’m not sure it really matters that he’s alive. It’s not like I will ever get to see him again. And I’m sure that the conditions for him are awful to the point of complete misery. So that isn’t much to live for either.
I almost shout at myself aloud. Thankfully, I keep it inside, opting to scream in my mind: No, no, no! You’re better than that, better than a quitter! Dad would be ashamed by such thoughts! I know then what I have to do: rescue my father and find out whether my mother is still alive. Oh, and also take a detour to find my sister, too, if I have time. Should be easy, simple, no problemo! Or impossible. It is definitely one or the other.
I still haven’t answered Cole’s question. I’m not sure how long it has been since he asked it, but probably awhile, because he is looking at me strangely, like I have poo on my face or something. While I’ve been battling with myself in the comfort of my own head, I can only guess at what weird facial expressions I was making.
“I’m guessing you’re not sure how you feel?” Cole says.
Bingo! Give the guy a prize. I am impressed by Cole’s recognition of my feelings without me having said a single word. Maybe he is a mind reader. I hope not. With my muddled thoughts, having a mind reader around will be far too embarrassing.
“Yeah, I’m a bit confused right now.”
“But I bet you want to go rescue your dad,” Cole says.
Crap! He IS a mind reader! Or possibly just very perceptive. I am hoping for the latter. “Yeah, and my sister and mom, too, while I’m at it. Should be easy,” I say.
“Especially with us around,” Cole says.
“What should be easy?” Tawni says, returning with two plates of gunk that are meant to be food. To her credit, the gunk on my plate isn’t green, slimy, or moving. But it is brownish and gooey. I take a bite, swallowing quickly before my taste buds have much of a chance to linger on the flavor.
“Rescuing Adele’s family,” Cole says. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Only small hurdles to get over, like escaping from the Pen, crossing hundreds of miles of cave networks while avoiding detection by Enforcers, breaking into at least one maximum security prison, and then breaking back out. Piece of cake.”
I groan. “I was trying to be positive,” I say. “In any case, I’m doing it alone, so it’s not your problem.”
“Wrong,” Cole says.
“Right,” I retort.
“Look, whether you like it or not, we’re going to help you,” Cole says.
I stare directly into his strong eyes, trying to get him to back down. About three seconds later I look away. What am I thinking trying to beat Mr. Power Eyes in a staring competition—I can’t even beat myself in the mirror.
I remember the argument that Cole and Tawni were having when I was listening in the closet. “But I thought you were against me because of Tristan.”
Cole shrugs. “You’re growing on me.” His bottom lip doesn’t pout the way it normally does.
“Lie!” I declare, raising my arm in victory before it’s even confirmed.
Cole laughs and Tawni nearly spews out the spoonful of yellow goop she has in her mouth. “You’re right, Adele, you’re not growing on me. That would be disgusting. Hair grows on me, foot fungus on occasion, too, due to the shameful hygiene of the guys’ bathrooms, but not other people, and most definitely not you.”
His eyes are twinkling even more than before. I grin. “So what’s the real reason for wanting to help me?” I ask.
“I got nothing against you, nor your magical mysterious love affair with the sun prince”—I try to interject, but Cole sees it coming and pushes a finger to my lips, silencing me—“but I just don’t trust Tridlan one bit.”
“Tristan,” I say.
“What?”
“His name is Tristan. You said Tridlan.”
“Did I?” Cole says, throwing his hands up and feigning ignorance. I realize he’s mocking me. I want to be angry, but his mannerisms make me smile. “Anyway,” Cole says, “him being the son of the President and all, it’s not easy for me to be as trusting of Triftan as you guys are.”
I ignore his repeated mispronunciation of Tristan’s name and try to focus. It will be great to have friends help me—at least to get out of the Pen. But I still don’t understand their motives, which bothers me. At least not Cole’s. Tawni is probably trying to make up for the actions of her parents—to prove that she is better than them. Also, she seems to just be a nice person, willing to help a friend in need, even a new friend like me. But Cole is a mystery. It doesn’t help that he jokes around so much, which makes it even harder to get a read on him. He has no reason to help me.
“Seriously, why do you want to help?” I repeat.
His eyes darken. “Okay, look. I’m just really tired of everyone getting treated unfairly by the sun dwellers. I’ve been in juvie once before, when I was eleven. I had this teacher, Mrs. Witchikata. She was really kind, really pretty, always saying nice things to me. What can I say? I fell for her—head over freakin’ heels. So one day I told her I loved her. Mrs. W would never have reported it, but a nasty little Year Five kid overheard and told the principal, who told the authorities. Unauthorized flirting, they called it. I got six weeks in the Pen. Since then, I’ve always wanted revenge.”
Tawni giggles. I look at her, then back at Cole. “La la lie,” I say.
“Almost, smarty,” Cole says. “It was a half lie. All the stuff about Mrs. W was BS—in fact she was about ninety-five years old, two hundred pounds overweight, covered in warts, with a mean streak a mile wide. I hated her guts. But I did give you the truth about why I want to help you. The sun dwellers are creeps, period.” I give him a look and he throws up his hands submissively. “Okay, okay, maybe not all of them, maybe not even your beloved Triptan, but the majority of them.”
“Okay,” I say. I believe him. It certainly fits with what little I know about the male species. Their motives are generally simple: fun, honor, sex, food, pride, revenge, sex. Pretty basic stuff.
“Okay?” Tawni says, confirming.
“Yeah, we’ll escape together.”
“And then go rescue your family,” she says.
I haven’t thought that far ahead, but I figure I can talk them out of it when the time comes. “Uh, yeah, whatever. So how do we pull it off?” I say, leaning in.
Cole dips his head forward conspiratorially and lowers his voice, half-covering his mouth with one of his hands. “I know a guy who can get one of the guards to turn off the electric fence for a few minutes, maybe ten if we’re lucky,” he says.
I gawk at him like he’s an alien.
“What?” he says. “We were thinking about trying to escape once so I looked into it.”
I don’t have to confirm that he is telling the truth—his face is dead serious. “Okay. If we get your guy to turn off the fence at say midnight, two hours after lights out, we can sneak out of our cells and climb the fence,” I say.
“Our cells will be locked,” Tawni points out.
“There’s a trick for that,” I say. “I’ve done it before. Get a small piece of cardboard or plastic from somewhere, anywhere, and when you shut your door for the last time at night, slide the plastic between the door and the frame, blocking the deadbolt. When the door automatically locks, it will still click, but you’ll be able to open it.”
“Nice,” Cole says, nodding. I smile. I am glad to be able to bring some level of expertise to the table.
“Right,” Tawni says, “so at five minutes to midnight we leave our cells. Adele and I will be together and we’ll meet you”—she gestures to Cole—“at the fence. We’ll meet in the shadows in the northeast wing. When the electricity goes out we start climbing.”
Cole’s eyes narrow and his face crinkles up. “How do we tell the time?” he asks.
“We’ll have to base it off of the guards’ patrols,” I say. “Start counting from the ten o’clock lights out. Approximately every fifteen minutes a guard will go by—watch through the slot in your doors. Once seven patrols pass we’ll know it’s about quarter to midnight. Then we’ll just have to count in our heads for ten minutes—six hundred seconds. Then we go.” I am feeling confident—probably too confident—but it is a good feeling, one I haven’t felt in a while.
“When should we do it?” Tawni asks.
“How about tonight?” I say, feeling eager butterflies in my stomach.
“That’s pretty tight,” Cole says. “I’ll have to check with my guy to see if it’s possible on such short notice.”
“It better be,” I say. Acting in a hurry is better than taking a long time to plan our escape. That way the dirty guard won’t have time to rethink his choice to help us.
“We’ll need money to pay him,” Cole says. “You know, the guard who helps us.”
I knew it sounded too good to be true. I don’t have any money and certainly no way of getting any. But I ask anyway. “How much?”
“At least fifty Nailins I expect.”
My heart sinks. I haven’t seen that much money in my entire life. It might as well be a million. Even if we come up with a way to raise some money, we won’t be able to get that much in ten lifetimes. I close my eyes tightly and clench my teeth, trying to stifle a scream. I need a miracle.
I get one.
“I can provide the money,” Tawni says.
My eyes flash open and I look at the skinny, white-haired girl beside me. I look back at Cole. He doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, it is like he expected her response. I realize that when he mentioned the money he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to Tawni the whole time.
I turn back to Tawni. “You have access to fifty Nailins?” I say in disbelief.
“More if we need it,” she says. “When I got caught trying to go interdistrict without a travel permit my parents were all over me, asking me why, why would I do such a thing? So I gave them a BS story about how I really wanted to see the Lantern Caverns of the ninth subchapter and how I never thought they’d let me go.” She pushes a strand of hair out of her face, grinning. “They bought it, and although they couldn’t get me out of doing time in the Pen, they were able to make my stay here as easy as I want it to be. I could have had a plush room on the third floor, five-star meals, access to a telebox, pretty much anything I want.”
“Then why do you sleep in a crappy cell next to me?”
Tawni’s face falls. “Because if I took advantage of what my parents could do for me, then I’d be just as terrible as them. I swear to God, Adele, I’m not like them—never will be.”
“Truth,” I say solemnly.
Tawni nods. “In any case, I still have access to an account they set up for me with the warden, I mean with the concierge.” I chuckle at her little joke. “There are more than two hundred Nailins in it.”
Cole whistles. “I didn’t know you had that much dough. How about sharin’ some with an old friend of yours?”
Tawni smirks. “We’ll need all of it if we’re going to pull this off.” She lowers her voice again. “First to pay off the guard and then to travel across the Moon Realm.”
I nod. “Thanks, Tawni. And you too, Cole. I wouldn’t stand a chance without your help.” I realize then that I don’t have to be alone anymore—can’t be alone, can’t stand it for one more second. I hit a new low the previous day and then everything started moving up again. My downward spiral is finally over.
It reminds me of something my dad said one year at Christmas, when we didn’t even have the money for presents, or fancy food, or anything. He said, “Sometimes, girls, you have to hit your lowest low just before you hit your highest high. It makes you appreciate the good things so much more.” Right now is starting to feel like one of those times. Yeah, maybe meeting a couple of friends and coming up with a plan to escape from a juvenile delinquent facility isn’t the best of times in my life, but it isn’t the worst either, and for that I am thankful.
We leave the cafeteria long after we arrived—we are the last to go. Although we aren’t satisfied by the food, we are still satisfied. By other things. More important things. Life-changing things. I am going to rescue my family, and hopefully myself at the same time.
Yeah, things are looking up.
Chapter Six
Tristan
Ahhh, a holiday at the Sandy Oasis. It has everything anyone could ever want. Soft, plush beds to sleep on. Warm, sandy beaches (they even simulate waves and paint picturesque ocean views). Half-naked girls ready to throw themselves at any celebrity who happens to make eye contact.
I throw up in my mouth when we arrive.
Roc is carrying my bags while my security detail protects me from the girls.
You’re probably thinking that I am a big wimp to let my father dictate the terms of my holiday so easily. I could’ve pushed back harder, tried to force him to see my point of view. But you see, the thing is, my father doesn’t like being pushed around. And I could tell he was in one of his moods, more stubborn than the lovechild of an ox and a mule. So I played along.
Roc and I aren’t staying in the Oasis. Not for long anyway.
We’re going to find the girl. I hope she is alive.
We reach my room with a record low of only three girls offering to have my babies. I guess I am losing my touch. From the looks in their eyes, I think they are offering to have them, like, right now, immediately. I don’t make eye contact for fear that they’ll rip their clothes off and throw themselves at me and my entourage.
The room isn’t really a room. More like an entire wing of the hotel, comprised of ten distinct rooms, only five of which are bedrooms. The others are sitting rooms, standing rooms, massage rooms, and kitchens. I don’t even count the six bathrooms as rooms. The cost for a single night would feed an entire subchapter of the Moon Realm for a year.
Luckily we aren’t staying long. “Quick and unexpected action is the most effective in battle,” my fighting instructor used to say. I am about to put his advice to the test. Perhaps not in a traditional battle, but in a battle nonetheless. A battle to take back my life.
I ask my security guards to wait outside, to monitor the four doors for any fake-tanned girls trying to gain access to my suite. When they are gone, I say, “Is this going to work, Roc?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” Roc says.
“Cut the sir crap, Roc, please,” I say. “We are about to embark on a rogue mission and I want you to be with me as a friend, not as a servant.”
“I’ll try, sir,” Roc says, grinning from ear to ear. I grin back, swatting at him playfully. He punches at me and for a moment there is a good chance it’s going to escalate into another practice fight, but then there’s a sudden knock at the door.
One of my guards enters, a giant with no neck and fists the size of boulders. His nose looks like it has been broken a dozen times—it is flat and wide. Although I expect to have to translate a series of grunts and hand signals, he surprises me by speaking perfect English, in an unexpectedly high voice.
“You have a visitor. He says he’s expected.”
“Name?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Kruger.”
“He’s okay,” I say.
The guard leaves, closing the door behind him, and a minute later the door reopens and another guy walks in. Compared to the guard, this guy looks tiny. He is actually about my size. Well, exactly my size actually, both in height, weight, and body type. Athletic build, six-two without shoes, a hundred and eighty five pounds dripping wet. It always amazes me how I can just snap my fingers and make things happen. I have no idea how they found someone who so closely resembles me in such a short time, but I don’t really care about the details. His face even kind of looks like mine. If he wears a hat and sunglasses, the guards won’t be able to tell the difference. Although each member of my security team would rank well across the entirety of the Tri-Realms when it comes to muscle, their IQs would likely sit in the bottom quartile.
“My money?” Kruger says. This guy gets right to the point, which is fine with me.
I wave Roc forward. He extracts a paper envelope from his pocket, which clinks as he hands it across. “A hundred Nailins,” he says. “Count it.”
The guy shakes his head and the parcel at the same time. “No need. It’s all there,” he says, as though he’s done so many shady deals that he can count the coins just by the sound of their clinking. Maybe he can. What do I know?
Next, Roc hands him some clothes, identical to the ones I am wearing. A gold tunic, a silver bracelet, brown moccasins. He even gives him a pair of my blue silk boxer shorts. “Put those on,” I say.
The guy strips right in front of us—clearly modesty is low on his priority list. I turn away, removing my own clothes and swapping them for a black tunic, black pants, and black boots. While I add a dark hat and sunglasses to my getup, Roc provides Kruger with a similar pair of sunglasses and a floppy, white beach hat. A current edition of a sun dweller magazine and a bottle of expensive wine from my father’s personal stash complete the façade.
With a nod, Kruger slides the money into the magazine and heads for the door. Roc trails after him. We’ve agreed that if the fake me leaves without Roc it will raise eyebrows; Roc goes everywhere with me. I hide off to the side, behind the red velvet drapes that provide privacy at the poolside windows. They exit, and just before the door closes, I see the gaggle of guards surround them. Kruger’s head is tilted slightly downward, so there will be even less likelihood that he’ll be recognized as anyone but me. The door closes and I hear Roc’s muffled voice as he explains to the guards that my guest will be resting in the suite while I am at the pool.
I’m not worried. They will buy the story. After all, they aren’t really trained to question their masters. Plus, they are trying to protect me from those who might hurt me, not from escaping. I’m not a prisoner—not technically.
I slip back around the drapes and peek through the window. A few minutes later, the dummy me and my entourage enter the pool area. Because we arrived in the early afternoon, it is already packed—finding a place to sit would be near impossible for any normal person. But I am no normal person, at least not to these people. It has all been prepared ahead of my arrival. A carved-out section of the patio, complete with tables, chairs, a vase of flowers, trays of food. To my disgust I notice a couple of deeply tanned, fake-boobed girls standing ready to fulfill my every desire. No doubt they are a gift from my dad.
I hope I never see him again.
Roc leads the imposter to the reserved area and motions for the guards to stand in a circle around me, blocking me from view of all the rubberneckers who are already standing up and trying to catch a glimpse of the President’s son. That makes me laugh.
It is time to go.
I leave the suite, taking a minute to scan the hallway for any guards who might’ve remained behind, or for any hotel staff who might become a witness to my escape.
The hall is empty.
I go the opposite way down the hall from where we entered, intent on using the private exit, specially designed so that celebrities can leave without being noticed. It will be guarded by one of my men, but that won’t be a problem. He will be looking for someone trying to get in, not for someone on their way out.
I tiptoe down the stairs, cognizant that any scuff of my feet or scrape of my toes might echo to the bottom, thus alerting the guard to my presence. I have to maintain the element of surprise if I want to avoid an ugly confrontation.
I reach the bottom without so much as a tap of my feet on the stone steps. The thick security door is bolted shut; I raise the lever gently, hoping it has been oiled recently. When it doesn’t creak, I breathe a sigh of relief. So far, so good.
I take a deep breath, trying to concentrate. To focus my mind. To prepare myself for swift and decisive violence. To incapacitate, not kill. I have no hatred for my guards, no desire to harm them. They aren’t smart enough to think for themselves. They just follow orders. Maybe that’s not a good excuse, but I let them have it.
Using my shoulder as a battering ram, I burst through the door, bobbing my head left and then right to locate the guard. He is surprised, but alert, already reaching for his sword. I have mine out and am ready for combat. Before he raises his arm in defense, the point of my sword is at his throat. I’m not sure if he recognizes me beneath my sunglasses, but in a few hours it won’t matter.
As soon as he drops his sword, I swing around behind him and clamp his chin between my forearm and bicep, slowly tightening the force on his neck. At first he fights it, but then his feet stop kicking, his arms stop waving, and he goes to sleep. I wait a few more seconds before releasing him, just in case he’s faking it, and then lay his unconscious body to the ground, kindly propping his head up on his hip bag. Before I leave I steal his sword, just in case.
I slip around the edge of the resort, but no one is nearby—everyone is drinking cocktails and splashing around in the pool, their consciences somehow remaining squeaky clean. If asked, they would probably all claim ignorance as to the living conditions of the moon and star dwellers. But they know, even if they aren’t willing to admit it to themselves.
I make my way back to the arriving and departing visitors’ entrance, and stride confidently past the greeters. They are too busy welcoming some big shot sun dweller and don’t even seem to notice me pass by. The dark clothing probably helps in that regard, too.
I wait for Roc at the mandated location, near the south end of the soon to be arriving transporter. I hope we’ve timed it right, that Roc will have enough time to meet me. If I have to I will leave without him, but I really don’t want to. I tap my toe on the stone platform nervously.
I hear the rumble of the approaching transporter. Still no Roc.
The transporter bursts through the end of the tunnel. Still no Roc.
A whoosh of air hits me as the transporter rolls to a stop. No Roc…and then—
Roc appears at the other end of the platform, running hard toward me, fear in the whites of his eyes.
He crosses half the platform and I am still wondering why he looks so scared. Yeah, the train will be leaving soon, but he’s made it with plenty of time to board with me. The platform is empty; no one else in their right mind would be traveling from the hottest resort in the Sun Realm to the Moon Realm.
He is almost to me when his pursuers arrive, charging through the resort entrance and gunning straight for us. Evidently I’ve underestimated my guards, or Roc has done something stupid, or maybe both, but whatever the case, they know they have to stop him. It is likely they haven’t worked out exactly what is happening, just that something is going down that isn’t supposed to.
When Roc reaches me I grab his arm and run with him onto the transporter. To his credit, Roc smartly thinks to hit the door close button repeatedly.
“Doors closing,” the speaker says. “Nonstop to subchapter six of the Moon Realm.”
The doors begin closing and we peer through the tinted windows to catch a glimpse of our pursuers. When the doors are halfway closed I think we will make it. The guards realize they are too late and intelligently veer off toward one of the front sections of the transporter, but they are still at least five long strides away.
These guys are not to be denied.
One of them dives headfirst at the rapidly closing door, thrusting his arms in the tiny crack and using his elbows like a wedge to pry it open.
“Damn,” I mutter, as they board the train. “What happened?”
Roc’s eyes are wild, flitting from side to side, unable to focus on mine. “I don’t know—I just freaked. I tried to sneak away, made some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom. One of your guards said he’d escort me, that he was bored anyway. When I said I’d be fine on my own, he started asking me questions and I got flustered and just started running. That’s when they came after me.”
“Damn,” I say again. I should’ve known Roc wasn’t cut out for this type of work.
