The Moon Dwellers (27 page)

“If I had to guess,” Cole says
, “I’
d say it’s a moon dweller rebellion.”
When I frown, Cole explains
.
“You know, like a civil war.
An uprising of moon dwellers who are sick of our leaders getting into bed with President Nailin.”

“No way,” I say
, without
really thinking about it.
I do
n’t
even want to consider the possibility
that we would destroy our own stuff, our own buildi
ngs, the fruits of our labors.
Tawni and Cole continue
discussing
the
idea for a f
ew more minutes, but I don’t listen—refuse to listen.
I hate
to think about it
, mostly because my dad is
a bit of a
revolutionary himself, and I do
n’t want to consid
er that other people like him a
re willing to bomb their own city.

Eventually
,
ev
eryone stops talking and we trudge along in silence.
It i
s probably safer that way anyway.
After what feels like miles, Tawni finally says
, “We’re here.”

It i
s a good thing, too, be
cause with every step my legs
threaten to topple underneath m
e.
I yearn
for a soft bed, for a comf
y pillow to rest upon.
I’m not
going to get one.

“We’ll have t
o sleep in the shed,” Tawni says
.
“Stay there at least until morning, when my parents leave for work, or wherever it is that they go every day.”

I sigh.
“Lead the way.”

We steal
across
the front of the house, which i
s bigger than most
in the Moon Realm
, at least five times
as big as my house.
My eyes
have
adj
usted to the dark (plus there a
re small night lights a
long the front walk), so I can
make out
artsy rock formations littering the
landscaping.
They are
hand-
carved and probably cost
a fortune.
We easily zigzag
our way through th
em and I guess
that Tawni
could guide
us without injury even if she was
blindfolded.

I ca
n’t see much of
the house, except that it looms
up like a fortress in front of us.
Compared to most homes in the Moon Realm, and particularly in our humble district, it
i
s
as big as a palace.
I ca
n’t wait to
see it when the dim daylights a
re turned on.

We reach a medium height wall separating the back from the front.
Raising one o
f her long legs, Tawni clam
bers over it easily, like she’
s
done it a thousand times.
Following her lead, Cole hops
ove
r the barrier swiftly and looks back at me, as if he i
s considering offer
ing me a hand over.
I pretend
not to see him and, ag
ainst my better judgment, place
my hands firmly o
n the top of the wall and push
off hard, using it to vault o
ver the top.
Although I clear
the
wall easily
, I pay
the price on the landing, feeling the jolt of my feet on the stone through my entire body, particularly around my battered ribs.

It hurt
s like hell, but I grit my teeth and dare
myself not to show
any
discomfort.
Cole is watching and I do
n’t want to look weak in front o
f him.
I don’t know why.
He’
s alre
ady seen me fight, knows I’m tough, knows I’m
strong a
nd capable.
I guess maybe it i
s just silly pri
de that mak
e
s me do it.
If he was a girl, I wouldn’t care
one bit, but for
some reason with guys it is different.
I always feel
like I have
to try to
be equal to them, like I have
something to prove.
Maybe I am
just trying to prove my toughness to m
yself.
Although I know I look tough when I fight, I never really feel
that tough.

Reg
ardless, I don’t think it works.
Cole pretends not to notice
I am in pain, but I think
I see
a twinkle in his eyes and a casu
al smirk on his lips.
I brush past him and follow
Tawni around the house.

The backyard i
s even bigger than the front, p
ossibl
y bigger than my parents’ entire property
.
In the center of the space i
s an in-ground pool, probably the only one in the entire subc
hapter.
The still waters glow
an eerie blue, lit from beneath by underwater pool lights which ev
idently stay on all night.
I try
not to think about how much
that
would cost—
and
that it is
funded by the sweat and blood of people like my father.

The shed is past the pool.
It isn’t what I expect
ed
.
When you live in relative poverty
, the word
shed
fosters an image of a tiny stone cubbyhole, crumbling around the edges and filled with rusty tools, spiders, and the occasional bat.
Not a four
-
room building with running water, electricity, bunk beds, a
nd shelves of food.
Maybe I am
going to get a bed after all.

Tawni pushes
open th
e door without a key and slips into the darkness.
We ca
n’t risk
turning on the lights, so she gi
ve
s
us a bri
ef tour using the soft glow of
he
r digital watch.
Then she breaks
out a can of beans, which we eat
at room temperature, a box of salty crackers, and a tube of some kind of mint je
lly.
Although it shouldn’t be, the food is amazing, and we eat frantically.
It is a good thing there are no lights, because I do
n’t even stop to wipe the crumbs or juices from my mouth.

We risk
turning on the faucet and cupping o
ur hands to drink.
My throat is so dry the water burns
slightly on the way down
.
The second gulp goes
down better.

No one speaks until we
fi
nish
all the food
.

When the last cra
cker is gone, Cole says
, “Will your parents come in here in the morning?”

“No,” Tawni says
.
“Never.
I’ve never seen either o
f them in here.”
Her voice is
thick with distaste.
“They think it’s beneath them.
These are the servants’ quarters.
They used to live with us, but it became too expensive, so now they just come during the day to clean and cook and maintain the place.”

I am
shocked
.
Disgusted.
The rest of us a
re barely sc
raping by and Tawni’s family has
servants
.
Seriously!
I want
to
say something but I hold my tongue, because I know she i
s uncomfort
able with the set
-
up
,
too.
It i
sn’t her fault.
Like I said before, you have no control over what situation you are born into.

Cole changes
the subject.
“What happened to you guys in the Pen?”

I’
d almost forgotten that he only saw the butt end of our
escape from our cells.
It feels like all three of us have
lived through the entire thing together.

I gi
ve him a taste of his usual sarcasm.
“See, Tawni and I were playing poker, Texas Hold’em, with a few of the guards, when it came time to meet you.
We thought they’d let us go because, by that point, they owed us a bundle of money.
Instead
,
one of them whipped out an
Uzi
and started firing away.
We ran out of there like bats out of hell, leaping bullets and fighting guard
s the whole way.
It was crazy
.”
Maybe not all true, but it
was
crazy
.

“Mostly lies,” Cole says
in the dark.
“But
a hint of the truth, the crazy
part
,
right?
Oh, and I expect y
ou did get shot at, too.”
He i
s
good
,
all right, but I’m not
about to tell him that.

“Okay, the true story is…”

I tell
him the
full
story, downplaying the incident with me and the guard who stepped in front of me, but totally milking the “barrage of bullets whipping past our heads, tearing our clothes—I think I felt one trim off a lock of hair.”

“Let me see whe
re the guard hit you
with the stick
,” Cole says when I finish
.

I don’t want to.
Don’t want the sympathy.
Do
n’t wan
t them to worry about me.
I know it i
s bad, but probably not as bad
as it looks
.

He wo
n’t leave me alone until I
show
him
.

Even using only Tawni’s wa
tch light to see, my side looks awful when I raise my tunic.
Already it i
s marbled with purple and blue at the top, and
is
green and splotchy at the bottom.
The shap
e doesn’t look quite right, like I am
missing a rib or two.

To my surprise, Cole laughs.
If I am expecting sympathy, I do
n’t
get it.
“You’ll live,” he says
.
And then: “I’ve
seen worse from a single punch o
n the schoolyard.”

I thought I didn’t want sympathy, but then when I don’t get it, it mak
e
s me mad.
It is
probably ju
st lack of sleep, the pain I am
in,
the gamut of emotions I’ve felt this
night—or I’m just a
head case
.
Probably that, too.

Tawni i
s nicer, immediately tearing off strips from one o
f the bed sheets and wrapping them
around m
y stomach and side to support my battered ribs.
I grumble
about her pampering
, but afterwards I’m
glad she does
it, because my ribs stop
hurting temporarily.

The servant’s bed I sleep on i
s mo
re comfortable than the one I’
d slept on g
rowing up.
I practically melt into it.
Although I am
too tired to be excited abo
ut having escaped the Pen, I do
smile
in celebration just before I fa
ll asleep.

Tristan’s face fills my mind and I drift
away to a better place.

Chapter Ten

Tristan

T
hey a
re surrounde
d with no hope of escape.
I do
n’
t know why of all nights they’
ve
chosen this one to attempt
to gain their freedom, but I know if we don’t help them they wo
n’t make it.
She
won’t make it.
For all I kno
w, the guards migh
t shoot them, rather than try
t
o apprehend them.
For all I kno
w it might be another policy, like no visitors
allowed
outside of certain hours
.
The gunshots we heard earlier certainly point
to that conclusion.
I can
see the new guards on
the first day of training.
Lesson 1:
A
lways shoot guests attempting to escape.