MiNRS (4 page)

Chapter Four

Blackout Bash

The party started a few
hours before the Earth said good-bye, or we said good-bye to the Earth. I guessed it depended on your perspective. The kids had made tons of suggestions, and Melming Mining, thanks to Mr. Murphy, had actually come through big time.

There were three big circles of tables taking up most of the field. Pavel’s idea had expanded to include circles for the Earth and the Sun.

A set of tables sat at one edge of the field—the Earth. They were covered in layers of junk food, sugary drinks, cakes, pies, hot dogs. Those foods were rare on Perses. Usually, we got packaged stuff or
vegetables. Space was not a place to be picky.

The Perses table was at the other end of the field, covered with presents for all the kids. There were even gold-wrapped parcels for older kids like Elena and me. I could tell ours were books by the way they were wrapped, which was great, but not as exciting to open as a toy ray gun or computer game.

And my dad had hinted that there was also a high likelihood of fireworks once the Sun went down.

The Sun was represented by a giant circle of tables in the middle of the field. That was where everyone was hanging out, sitting, eating, chatting, and, on a temporary wooden platform in the middle, dancing.

There weren’t a lot of people on Perses in total, and when we got together, you really noticed how few of us there were. Maybe a hundred. The ten farmers on Perses had come for the night, and they and the miners were mixing pretty comfortably with the brainiac scientists and the managers, like my dad.

Finn’s idea for a big Blackout radio show had been worked out, and the DJs on the station were playing requests and sending messages to us from family back home.

“Aunt Cecilia says,
‘Ti amo,’
to Stefano Sebastiani. See
you in a couple of months!” Stefano was in the lower grade.

“Take care, Dan Huang. Love, your grandfather Luke.” Ditto for Dan.

“‘Back in Black’ from AC/DC is going out to Jennifer Singh from her waiting fiancé, Gurdeep.”

That one got a huge
“awww”
from the crowd, as Jennifer, the other teacher up here, broke down in tears. She’d put off her wedding to be on Perses, while her fiancé waited until her three-year contract was done.

“This golden oldie goes out to all the hard workers on Perses. It’s ‘Working in the Coal Mine’ by Lee Dorsey!”

I kept looking for Elena. I saw her mom and dad, but no sign of her. I had already looked in the likeliest places—by the chips, the pop, the presents—but no Elena.

We hadn’t talked much since the assembly. Every time I tried to talk to her or hang out, she said she was busy planning or hanging out with Maria and Mandeep or Alek, making banners and decorations.

Giant banners with
BRING ON THE BLACKOUT
, or
TTYL, EARTH
written in black paint hung around the field on poles. I’d helped out with a few of them, but there’d always been a bunch of us together.

There was a loud burst of static from the speakers, and the music faded out and then came back. The noise sent an excited buzz through the crowd.

The Blackout was getting closer and closer.

Even without Elena, I was enjoying the food. I was enjoying the music. I was enjoying the calculations I was doing in my head about how the Earth and Perses were revolving around the Sun.

I was even enjoying watching the miners sipping on bottles of some mysterious clear liquid. I had a pretty good idea that it was Perses-shine. Elena’s father had told us there was a secret distillery hidden in the network of mines.

The miners got louder and louder, and once in a while would break out in rambunctious songs of their own, about life in the tunnels, or ballads to loved ones who had been left behind, buried in mines or back on Earth.

My dad joined in on more than a few and knew all the words. I caught him taking a swig from the bottles, and he and my mom even took a few turns on the dance floor together.

I watched as they spun and twirled, and was surprised by how well my dad could move despite his limp.

A punk rock song came on, and they sat down, my dad wincing a little, until someone passed him a bottle. He and my mom kissed, and with a gag I turned my attention back to the dance floor.

That was when I finally saw Elena—dancing, and not by herself.

She had her long black hair tied up in a ponytail that whipped around as she spun like a frenzied top. She was wearing a flower-print dress, but she had written
Bopping to the Blackout
across the top in some kind of paint or marker.

She was also wearing her favorite red army boots and black leggings.

She looked . . . cool.

I hadn’t even thought to look for her on the dance floor. Who knew she liked to dance?

Brock, apparently, because he was doing his best to match her step for step. At one point they kicked at the same time, and he dinged her in the shins.

She laughed.

My stomach started to churn, and I put down the cupcake I’d been about to scarf.

I heard a shuffling, and my dad came over and sat down next to me. “Christopher, let’s have a talk.”

“Okay,” I said. I couldn’t take my eyes off the dance floor.

“I’m going to give you two pieces of advice.” His voice was actually trembling a bit. I stole a peek at him. He was wringing his enormous hands together. “First
of all I don’t know what the next couple of months are going to be like, but I do know that we’ll meet whatever challenges come up together as a family.”

“Um, okay,” I said. I didn’t like the serious tone in his voice. He didn’t sound like someone at a big fun party.

“Let’s just say there are fail-safe measures, contingency plans. And there are other . . . things,” he added cryptically. He seemed to be talking to himself now, more than to me.

“Okay,” I said again, not quite sure what first bit of advice was hidden in this speech.

“Your mother and I would never have brought you here if we weren’t sure this would be safe and secure. Space is not always the best place for kids. For kids . . .” He trailed off and rubbed his hands together again.

I touched his knee. He was worrying me. “Dad, you okay?”

He lifted his head and smiled. “Sorry, just a little tired. There’s been a lot of long nights making sure we sent all the information to Earth and got everything locked down here for the Blackout.”

I knew this was true. I’d barely seen him between the night we’d talked about my calculations and the night of the party.

He laughed suddenly. “And dancing with your mother—well, that will tire anyone out!”

That sounded more like my dad. He even looked over at Mom, who was chatting with Jennifer and passing tissues to her. She saw him and smiled.

He turned back to me slowly. “Christopher, this is an amazing party, so a huge thanks for suggesting the idea in the first place. And all I’m trying to say, despite my brain being on snooze, is that no matter what happens, you don’t need to worry. That’s advice number one.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’m not that worried, actually. I’m kind of excited. I’ve even planned some experiments for school, plant growth and radiation levels, stuff like that.”

“That’s my son, the genius.” He slapped my knee. “Okay, advice number two. Take charge. If you keep sitting here and watching that young lady dance, you’ll keep watching until the Earth comes back. Go have fun.”

He laughed and then stood up. I stayed frozen to the spot. I glanced at Elena. She was still spinning, although now with Alek.

My dad put a hand on my shoulder and pushed. I couldn’t help but stand up. It was either that or fall flat on my face.

“Go. And. Have fun . . . Dance,” he said, and there was the same tone he had in his voice when he ordered me to turn out the light at night or go to bed. It was not a tone that gave you the option for disagreement.

I shuffled in the direction of the dance floor. As I made my way closer, I ran through an itinerary of all the things that could go wrong. I checked my fly to make sure it was closed. I checked my armpits to make sure they didn’t smell. I hoped my breath didn’t smell too much like broccoli soup or cupcakes.

I took a panicked look down at my shirt. Had I dropped any icing down my front?

Before I knew it, I was on the dance floor, staring dumbly at Elena as she continued to dance up a storm. She spotted me and came over, smiling.

“Nice party!” Elena yelled over the music. She grabbed my arms and swung me into a spin. I wasn’t sure if it was dancing or aerobics, but whatever it was, it was fun. I looked at Alek and Brock, who were frowning a bit at being shoved aside so easily.

I realized I didn’t care.

The music crackled in the distance, drowned out by a burst of static.

We stopped spinning. Elena had to take a deep breath, and she laughed as she reached over and gave me a gentle punch on the arm.

“Christopher Nichols. You might be a geek, but you can actually dance!”

The radio came back to life.

“Whoa, almost time to say good-bye!” said the DJ. “Maybe time for one more tune. Here’s Gustav Holst’s love song to the planet Venus.”

It was a slow song, a classical piece, with soaring flutes and strings. It sounded like a planet moving in the heavens.

Elena reached over and swung her arms around my shoulders.

“Hey, a slow song. Seems the perfect way to end this party.”

“I’m not sure I know how to slow dance,” I said.

“Ah, it’s a cinch. Just try not to step on my feet! Maybe there’s some mathematical schematic pattern thingy you can come up with.”

“I’ll do my best.”

We danced for a bit, and I concentrated hard on where her feet and mine were, while Elena kept me from smashing into the other people on the floor.

“So, this party has been excellent,” she said as we moved around the dance floor. “I’ve never danced so much in my life!”

“I was looking for you. I didn’t even think to look on the dance floor.”

“Well, now you know. I like to dance.”

“I’m kind of liking it too.”

She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

The static became more frequent, the music less and less clear, but we stayed together, dancing.

Somewhere above us, the Earth was sneaking behind the Sun.

I realized with a jolt I hadn’t checked my watch to be sure my calculations were right.

I realized I didn’t care about that, either.

Back at the tables, someone started a countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven . . .”

Everyone joined in.

Elena smiled. “It
is
like a New Year’s Eve party,” she said.

“Six, five, four, three . . .”

“And, Christopher Nichols, you know what people do at exactly midnight on New Year’s Eve?”

“Wear goofy party hats?”

“Two!”

She leaned in close and said in a whisper, “No.”

“One!”

The music sputtered and died.

“Zero.”

At that precise moment the Earth disappeared, and Elena Rosales leaned her lips toward me.

A huge crack and boom sounded from somewhere overhead.

Her lips drew closer.

“Fireworks,” I said, unsure whether to turn and watch or let my best friend kiss me.

Then I heard screams.

Elena looked over my shoulder and gasped. I saw the panic in her eyes and turned around just as the first bombs fell.

Chapter Five

Battle

The world erupted around us.
Everything was noise, fire, and chaos.

People ran in every direction, plowing into everyone else. The tables, the food, the presents were all in flames. Explosions tore apart the field. Chunks of singed grass and dirt flew into the air.

More bombs fell from the sky, obliterating everything and everyone on the ground.

I reached for Elena’s hand, either to run away or maybe (if I give myself some credit) to run and help get people to safety, but as soon as I touched her fingers, a bomb exploded right next to us. The force threw me into the air. I landed with a thud in a cloud of dust and smoke.

I tried to stand, but I wobbled and fell over.

My hand was empty.

Clouds of smoke obscured the entire surface.

I called out for Elena. I couldn’t hear my own voice. I called again, but still nothing. Elena was likely as deaf as I was.

Or maybe she had taken the brunt of the explosion.

The thought of her dead jolted me upright. I began to stumble, searching for any sign of her. I fell. I grew more and more desperate, blindly pawing the ground with my hands, then running around in circles.

I kept calling and shouting.

I tripped in a crater and hit my head on something hard—a rock or a chair or a person’s boot.

I’m not even sure how long I was there before my eyes blinked open. All I saw was blinding light. It took me a moment to realize I was staring at the setting Sun. A dark shadow passed back and forth in front of it. Whatever it was, it was huge, and it was sending the bombs toward the field. Every bomb stoked the growing fire.

Something reached out of the light and lifted me up by the front of my shirt.

I shadowed my eyes and saw a face staring back at me through the smoke.

It was my father. He was mouthing something to me, shouting even, but I still couldn’t hear.

I shook my head and pointed at my ears.

“I can’t hear,” I said. I must have shouted it, because my dad winced.

He gave up yelling, and grabbed my forearm. He began to walk away, dragging me behind, still dazed. I could see he was bleeding from his shoulder. His uniform was in tatters, and I could see his tattoo.

My forehead was throbbing. I touched it and realized I was bleeding too.

The field burned all around us. We headed for the roof of our building. I heard a ringing sound. It grew louder and, slowly, the sounds of the battlefield crept into my ears, more and more definite as our walk turned to a limping run.

I looked back. The shadow I’d seen in front of the Sun was a ship, and it was preparing to land. The bombs had stopped, replaced by energy-pulse bullets that sprayed into the crowd.

The bombs blew up anything they came near. These bullets were more accurate, targeted.

“Christopher!” I heard my mother’s voice through the barrage. She was standing just to my left, bleeding from a gash on her head. She seemed to be holding an
oddly shaped gun, firing brightly lit bursts back toward the ship.

I looked more closely at the gun my mother was holding and realized with a shock it was just a Roman candle, part of the fireworks from the party.

Completely useless.

Her eyes met mine. She shouted, “Run!” An energy bolt slammed into her, and she disappeared in a shower of flame and smoke. I blinked.

She was gone.

She was dead.

I tried to scream, but no sound would come out. I lunged toward the empty spot where she’d been standing seconds before.

“No,” my father said, tightening his grip on my forearm. He continued to pull me toward our home. “We have to keep going.” I started punching his arm to force him to let me go, but he was too strong. He ran faster, pulling me along as more energy pulses hit the ground around us, spraying debris everywhere.

We reached the core-scraper. Huge holes had been blasted in the roof, and acrid black smoke billowed out of the holes. The elevators, miraculously, were still working. One rose up, and the doors opened.

Dad dragged me inside and yelled, “Fifteenth floor!”

As the doors slid shut behind us, I saw that the ship had landed. Helmeted figures were emerging from landing stairs, firing more bursts.

The elevator shuddered as it descended, and the sounds of the battle faded.

Mom?
I mouthed. My ears were still ringing, and the sound seemed deafening in the silence of the elevator.

My father’s face was as still as stone.

I assume the tinny voiced woman in the elevator said,
“We have arrived at the fifteenth floor,”
but I don’t remember.

The elevator doors opened, and my father led me into the hallway.

He took off one of his boots and jammed it between the elevator doors. The doors hit the boot and slid back open.

“Please allow the doors to close,”
said the woman.
“Please allow the doors to close. Please allow the doors to close.”

Dad ignored the voice and marched to our apartment. He kicked the door open so hard, the panels cracked and flew across the floor.

He led me to the table and sat me down. A loud boom echoed down the elevator shaft. All the lights flickered.

“We don’t have much time,” he said as he began rummaging through our bookshelves.

I sat, immobile.

My father threw a whole row of books off the shelf. They landed with a crash on the floor. He grabbed something that had been tucked behind the books, a small backpack. He marched back to the table.

“Take this,” he said. I didn’t move. He took my hand and wove the backpack strap in between my fingers. It felt weightless, empty, and I was clearly confused.

“Inside is a map. Repeat after me: a map.”

I nodded. “A map.” He began to search for something else, tossing books everywhere.

My brain started to unfreeze. “A map for what?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Got it,” he said finally, turning around.

He was holding a gun.

“Christopher, you can’t stay here. You need to get some food and water and get yourself into that elevator and go to the mines. Fill up your backpack.”

He motioned to the kitchen cupboards.

I didn’t move. “Wait, what? You’re going back?” I said. “No, you can’t. You can’t.”

He took my shoulders in his hands and stared right into my eyes. “Christopher. You need to be strong.
You need to survive. I’ve got to go back.”

I shook my head. Tears began to fill my eyes.

He took a deep breath. “I am going back to fight. Maybe I, maybe we adults, can buy some time.”

I shook my head. “Let me fight with you.”

“No, you have another job. There are children, survivors, who are going to need you. Head down the mines and keep them safe.”

“No!”

“You have to.”

“No!”

“There’s no other choice. None. Do you understand?” He didn’t let go of my shoulders until I nodded, the tears returning.

He grabbed the bag from my lap and held it up in front of my eyes. “In here there is a map. It is your only chance to be rescued. Repeat that after me.”

“My only chance,” I said.

“Your mother . . . ,” He choked on the words for a second. “She and I and some of the miners hid an emergency beacon where no one could find it.”

“An emergency . . . what? What do you mean you hid it?”

“Susan, your mother, she and I have always been wary. Wary and worried.”

I just stared back at him.

He sighed. “I don’t have time to explain it all. Humans are complex. We’ve always told you we were convinced of the worthiness of this mission. We came to Perses to do great things.”

I nodded.

“But power, money . . . Those do funny things to people. We, your mother, me, Elena’s father, we all knew there was a chance, a small chance, that things might not work out so well. We knew we might need a backup plan.”

There was another large boom, and the lights flickered again. Cracks began to appear in the ceiling above the table.

“I don’t know what’s going on up top,” he continued, “who those monsters are, but there are people on Earth who are watching for any sign of trouble. You’ll need to survive the Blackout and signal them for help.”

The tears were now rolling down my face.

He held up a black flashlight. “You’ll need this to read the map.” He tossed the flashlight into the bag.

“Why can’t you just tell me where the beacon is?” I choked on tears.

“It’s very complicated. I’m not even sure I
could
tell you. Everything you need to figure it out is there.”

“Where?” I said.

Another, bigger boom rattled the building. The cracks in the ceiling and the walls splintered and grew.

“No more time to waste. Stand up.” He said it in his authoritative voice. I stood up.

My dad stuffed the backpack full of food and water, then grabbed my arm and hurried me back to the elevator. He handed me the backpack.

“Dad, I . . . I can’t . . .”

“No more talking.” He leaned in and hugged me and then stepped back into the hallway. He bent down and grabbed his boot.

“Seventy-fifth floor,” he said. “Manager override. Floor fifteen now closed.”

“Affirmative,”
said the woman.

The doors to the elevator began to close. My dad smiled and waved, like I was going away on a school bus.

“If I can, I will find you,” he said.

Then he got a surprised look on his face, like he’d suddenly remembered something. The elevator doors closed completely, and I began to descend.

“Christopher, the map is—” but there was another huge blast, and the sound drowned out his words.

I don’t know what the last bit was he meant to say.

I never got another chance to ask.