The Moon Dwellers (55 page)

“Oh, sorry,” he says
again.

“And
enough of the apologies,” I say.
I’m
trying to act normal, but am not sure if I’m succeeding.
I am
also trying to avoid making direct eye contact with him, for fear of being sent into a stupor, unable to speak or think.

“Fair enough,” he says
.
“If I’m not the
g
eneral, th
e
n who is?”

“I nominate myself,” Roc says
.

“I second it,” Elsey says
.

“Hey, don’t I get any votes
?” I say
.

“Nah, Tristan and
Roc are really fun,” Elsey says
.

“And I’m not?”

“Not as fun as them,” she says
, grinning.

“Thanks a lot!” I exclaim
, grabbing her and whirling her around.

“As
g
eneral,” Roc says
,
“
our first order of
business is to eat breakfast.
Then we’ll head over to the Camp of Death and Skulls and Crossbones and all that.”

“The Camp
of Blood and Stone,” I correct
.

“I thi
nk that’s what I said,” Roc says
, chuckling.

Tawni hands
each
of us one of the wafers Elsey
found the night before
.
It i
sn’t a very
appetizing breakfast, but it i
s bett
er than going hungry.
And it is quick, which I like.
I am
anxious to find my dad.
He’
s
done so much
for me in my life and now I have the
chance t
o do something for him.
I ca
n’t fail him.

I also need
th
e distraction.
Although I try
to keep up my side of
the constant bantering that has begun
ever since Tristan
and Roc joined us, inside I am still a wreck.
I ca
n’t block my emotions
out like the rest of them seem to do.
I feel bad that my heart
ballooned the night before, when Tristan held my hand
, feeling more alive than it has in months.
I feel bad because Cole is dead, and yet I am
enjoying myself, g
etting to know Tristan.
Why do
I deserve to find such happiness in the midst of
such misery?
Every five minutes it feels like my heart i
s shriveling up like a raisin
.
And then I look at Tristan and it
pump
s back up again.
I wonder if my heart can
survive such imbalance for long.

We leave
our little hideaway w
ithout seeing anyone.
People a
re staying indoors after the previous
night’s bombing.
The smoke has
cleared, revealing the e
xtent of the destruction.
It i
s bad, but not irreparable,
if only the star dwellers will
let us rebuild.

Although the
dusty
s
treets are deserted, we walk
single file, sticking to the edges of buildings, ready to dive for co
ver if any sun dwellers appear
.
Or any star dwellers.
Probabl
y any moon dwellers
,
too.
We don’t know who we can
trust.

Tristan i
s just in front o
f me, which I would know
eve
n if my eyes were closed.
It’
s li
ke an invisible tether connects us whenever we are close.
The tether has
low
-
voltage electricity surging through it, leaving me tingling.
His strides look awkward, ginger, like he’s walking on eggshells, trying not to crack them.
Each step is likely sending splinters of pain through his injured leg and back.

We speak
in hushed voices.

“Where did your br
other come from?” I ask
.

“Although I’d like to say he was adopted, I’m pretty sure he came from my mom’s st
omach, same as me,” Tristan says
, grinning.

I sha
k
e my head and grin
back.
“No, I mean yesterday.
How’d he know we were here?”

“I’ve been wo
ndering that, too,” Tristan says
, his smile fading.
“If I had to guess, I’d say my dad sent him as soon as Rivet reported that you were headed here on the train.”

I nod
slowly.
“
But w
hy’d
he attack you like that
?” I ask
.

Tristan glances back and says
, “
We haven’t been getting along lately.
”

He
did
n’t
really
answer
my question.
“But why—”

“He’s not like me, Adele.
He’s different—like my father.
Not good.”

“So you mean bad, right?”

“Yeah, bad.”

“Which makes you good then?”

He sighs
.
“I don’t know, I guess
because I don’t believe what my father does
.
Or maybe I’m not good, because it doesn’t seem like anyone is these days.
I’d rather classify myself as
not bad
.”
He turns his head and manages a sideways grin, but I can
tell that talking a
bout his family i
s hard for him.

But I plow ahead anyway.
I feel like I have to.
After all, we did
ho
ld hands
last night when I bar
ely knew him!
The least I can do i
s try to get to know him th
e morning after.
Plus, I want to.
I want
to know
everything
about him.

“So you’re not like your dad or brother…”

“My
father
or brother,” he clarifies.
It seems
the disti
nction between dad and father is important to him.
I wonder if it’
s a sign of respect for the President or a lack of closeness with the man who helped create him.

“Okay—
father.
So if you’re not like them, does that mean you
are
like your mother?”

“I ho
pe I’m like my mom was,” he says
, once more changing my word slightly.

“Was?” I say, hoping I’m not
probing too much.

Tr
istan goes silent for a moment and I worry I’ve
offended him.
We tiptoe
across
an empty intersection and duck
behind another building.
Roc is leading—he said he kno
w
s
the way.

Finally, Tristan says
, “My mom disappeared a while ago.”
Although he
says it calmly, evenly, I can
feel a weight behind his words
.
The same kind of weight I feel in my own voice when I speak
about my parents.

“I’m sorry,” I say
.

“It’s okay,” he says
.
“It was better that she went.
For her.
I’ll find her someday,” h
e adds
.

“I’ll help you,” I fi
nd myself saying.

He glances
back.
“I’d like that.”

The
tingling in my body, which I’
ve
s
tarted to get used to, increases
suddenly, like a
surge of electricity, and I fi
nd myse
lf giddy with excitement.
I have
the urge to rush
to his side
and grab his ha
nd, walk with him.
I restrain
myself.

Roc says
, “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re approaching the boundary to the camp.”

I look around—all I can see a
re buildings.
For a second I think
Roc
might’
ve gotten confused, bu
t when we turn
the next corner, the
buildings suddenly disappear and a
re
replaced by
a high stone wall.
The wall i
s gray and s
heer and would’ve appeared
ominous, an impossible barrier betwee
n me and my dad, except there i
s a gaping hole in it.

Scorch marks a
re burned along the edges of the hole, the result of a fo
rce so powerful it could’
ve
only
been from an incendiary.
Three times
, I think.
Three times we’ve
been effectively saved by the star dwe
ller bombs.
At some point I am
really going to have to write the star dweller leaders a letter thanking them.

I chuckle
under my breath at my own joke.

“What?” Tristan says
.

“Nothing.
Just thinking how strange it is that I’d still be stuck in the Pen if not for the star dweller bombs.
Or worse, I might be dead.
They always seem to explode when and where I need them the most, like a guardian angel is helping me.”

“You think there’s something to it?”

“I don’t know.
Probably not.
More likely it’s just a coincidence.
They seem to be bombi
ng everything,” I say
.
Despite my non
chalant response, something tells
me there
i
s
more to it.
But it doesn’t make sense—can
’t make sense.
Why would the star dwellers be trying t
o help me do anything?
They don’t even know who I am.
They have
much bigger problems to deal with now.
Li
ke how to win a war.
I shrug off my thoughts and try
to focus on our present situation.

We have a way in now, but I’m
afraid to take it, a
fraid that the entire camp is
destroyed, the prisoners left to die while the guards evacuated.

“It’ll be okay,” Tristan says
, as if reading my mind.

“I know,” I lie
.

The first bomb hit
s just as we a
re creeping through the h
ole.
Another day of bombing has begun.
If we weren’t
so used the sound
of distant bombs, w
e might
have
mistake
n
it for something else, a piece of machinery firi
ng up maybe, but by now we can
identify the roar of thunder as not a fluke underground storm, but as the
mirthful cry
of pointless destruction.

Elsey cries out, but I manage
to quickly slap a hand over her m
outh, silencing her.
We huddle together, hoping there i
sn’t a guard just inside the wall, close enough t
o hear the noise.
Warmth flows into my skin as my arm brushes
against Tristan’s.

He looks
at me, his eyes serious.
He l
eans in and I think
he might
kiss me, although clearly it i
sn’t the time or the place.

“Wait here,” he says
.

I start to object, but he i
s already gone, slipping inside the wa
ll and around the corner.
I see
the hilt of his drawn sword flash before h
e moves
out of sight.
He moves remarkabl
y
fast considering his wounds.
He’s still not moving normally, but his limp has lessened.

Roc must see
the con
cern on my face, because he says
, “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.
I taught him everything he knows.”

I laugh.
It i
s high
pitched and nervous, but
a laugh nonetheless.
It helps
to calm my nerves.

We hear a quick yell and then a
groan, followed by a thud.
I’ve
had enough of waiting and rush
through the wall, expecting violence of some sort.

Instead, there i
s only Tristan, grinning, standing over his fallen adversary.

I approach
him, feeling my heart beat faster as
the distance between us lessens.
“Is he…dead?” I ask
.

“Just unconscious,” Tristan says
.
His
grin fades and he raises
a finger in the air.
“We have to hurry.”

I can
hear a dull commotion furt
her into the camp.
Something i
s happening.
Somethin
g big.
Inside the wall we can
see all the way to the main b
uildings, where the prisoners a
re p
robably kept.
But the sound ari
se
s
from further south, past a cluster of massive stone blocks stacked in a pyramidal structure.

I don’t know how I know, but I do: my father is here.
Admittedly, being this close
afte
r not seeing him for so long mak
e
s
me go a bit crazy.
Okay,
really
crazy.
I ta
k
e
off, leaving my friends behind, envisioning a joyous reunion with him, jumping into his arms, holding him to me.