Dawn.
After walking for hours last night, we took refuge in a chewed-up fortress at a broken-down playground on the edge of the nearest Fringe Town. Sleeping in a park???classy. Avery and I took turns keeping guard, on constant lookout for any movement. There was nothing all night; most Fringers have migrated to the uninfected parts of the coast. Landlocked’s the worst. Landlocked will kill you.
As the sun starts to heat our little play castle to triple-digit level, we wipe the sleep from our eyes and step down the hot metal ladder to the brown grass below. My empty stomach rumbles. My throat’s about as dry as the environment out here. I’d pay a million dollars for a glass of water.
“Keep an eye out,” Avery warns as we exit the tiny park and step along a cracked-up street on our way to the center of town.
My feet drag. If I don’t get some fluids in me soon this march to Seattle is gonna be over before it starts. “How’s your headache?”
“Down to a dull throb,” she replies. “Don’t worry. I can manage it.”
I nod. “Tell me why we’re heading into a Fringe Town again?”
She avoids a wide crack in the pavement, leaping over to the other side. “Water, food. You know, things we kinda need to survive.”
A hot gust of wind shoves my face as I walk into it. Waves of dust swirl around in the air. I swallow mouthfuls of sandy air. It’s impossible not to.
We walk by lines of old-fashioned homesteads, boarded up and beaten to the ground. In another time, this place could have been one of those picket-fence-type neighborhoods people write poems about. The trees are leafless-dark, decaying silhouettes on an ever-flat background. Weeds survive, a darker shade of brown than the grass. I’ve heard that areas like this were hardest hit after the government cut power because they were already borderline-desert before the bombings.
So far, it’s all empty and silent. Score one for us, because in addition to traveling through a dangerous Fringe Town, we’ve still got Cassius to worry about.
Avery kicks at a dirt clod as we continue down the center of the vacant, pothole-ridden road. “Makes you miss the comforts of a Security Center jail cell, huh? It’s like the Old West.”
“The Old, Old West,” I reply, shirt sticking to my body with sweat. “Are we even close to Seattle?”
“Depends on what you mean by close.” She points at the pavement behind my feet. “Ooh, watch it.”
I turn around to see a snake slither across the roadway, inches from my heel. I jump forward, keeping my eye on the brown creature as it hisses past. “Oh god, I thought those things were only in movies!”
Avery watches it disappear into a crack in the pavement. “It’s gone.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes. I keep my eyes on the ground, cautious of any more creatures we might stumble across.
Once the coast is clear, I glance at Avery. “So I’ve been wondering. If you weren’t born on a Skyship, where were you born?”
“Don’t know,” she replies. “Look, I wasn’t lying about being an orphan. I’ve never met my parents. They’re probably dead.”
“Where did you live before the Academy, then?”
“The Lodge.”
“ The Lodge? Like, Pearlhound central?”
She nods. “Madame picked me up from the workhouses when I was little-five years old, I think. She tried to pretend she was my mother, at least for a little while.”
“And then she just sent you away to spy on us?”
Avery sighs. “You don’t see it as a child. You’re so glad to have someone act like they care. But as I got older, I realized what she really was. She wasn’t my mother. She was using me, and I’m not the only one.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, but think about it. She’s got this idea that the Unified Party needs to strike against the Skyships… that she and she alone recognizes a threat that nobody else does. Rather than go through official lines and risk humiliating herself, she picks up these kids… gains their trust so they’d do anything for her. And then she uses us to gain information… to build her case.” She shakes her head. “She’s really done a number on Cassius, that’s for sure.”
“Wait.” I grab her arm, stopping her. “Did you know Cassius? I mean, before… ”
She shrugs. “I’ve seen him. I don’t think he knows me, though. By the time he was old enough to remember, I was sneaking away from that place as much as possible. Besides, Madame likes to keep her ‘children’ separate. She really took an interest in him, though. Enough to send me away.”
“That’s why she sent you to the Academy? To get rid of you?”
“Don’t know for sure,” she replies. “But I was happy for the opportunity. That place is sick, Jesse. She’s sick-wracked with guilt from the government’s reaction to the bombings. By the time I arrived at the Academy, I was done with it all. To tell you the truth, I was planning to book it on outta there a couple of months after I arrived
… find refuge on another Skyship or something, maybe head to the Commonwealth. I wasn’t so keen on snooping around. All I really wanted was to break free of her grip.”
It’s hard to picture Avery on the Surface, living at the Lodge. I just always assumed her life started when she met me, that she didn’t really have a past. I could kick myself now for not questioning it earlier.
I jump over a crack in the pavement. “Then why didn’t you leave?”
She shrugs. “I told you. I overheard a meeting. I heard about you . I was curious. I don’t know what I expected to find when I met this so-called ‘miracle kid,’ but you surprised me, Jesse. Not many people surprise me.” She pauses. “Maybe it was the way they treated you up there, maybe it was because you were alone, like me. Either way, you seemed to get it. You seemed to see past this stupid rivalry between the Surface and the Skyships and just get it. You weren’t a drone like so many of the others up there. You were different. I guess I kinda saw a part of me in you. We clicked.” She sighs. “Once I knew that Madame was interested in you, I knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”
“You were protecting me?”
“I was being your friend,” she replies. “I am your friend. Of course, staying at the Academy meant that I had to continue to give Madame enough information to keep her happy. I’ve seen what she does to those who disappoint her, Jesse. It’s not pretty.”
I frown, sticking my hands in my pockets as we continue down the street. “We would’ve kept you safe. You could have graduated and been one of us.”
“One of you?” She kicks a rock down the faded white line in the center of the pavement. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m not interested in digging up Pearls for either side. As far as I’m concerned, it’s all a big distraction. I mean, think of what we could have done without them. There wouldn’t be any Fringes without the Chosen Cities. Without the Skyships we wouldn’t have to look over our shoulders all the time, afraid of some crazy war. I mean, the Polar Cities run all right without Pearls.”
“That’s because the Polar Cities are up in the arctic. It’s not 500 freaking degrees.” I pause. “You fed her information, Avery. Information that could hurt us.”
“I know.” She nods. “I was stupid, and scared. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She grabs my shoulder. “But that’s over now. I’m not going to let her ruin your life, too.”
We cross the next street. I notice dull splashes of color in the distance, once-bright signs for fast food restaurants. “Hey,” I point in their direction, “do you think that’s the-”
A dust-caked, fire-engine red car interrupts me, racing across the next intersection and out of sight behind a cluster of buildings. Avery and I freeze.
After a moment of shock-addled silence, she smiles. “They’ve got a generator.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Yeah, I do. How else would they get electricity for the car after all this time? It’s not like they’re leeching from a Chosen.”
“If they had a generator, why would they be using it to power some stupid car?”
“I don’t know.” She grabs my hand. “But maybe that means they have food. And maybe even a way to Seattle.”
We hustle, nearly running through the street now. As we pass the intersection into the fast food restaurant graveyard, I get this weird feeling that we’re being watched from every boarded-up window. A billboard to our right reads len b rg: Pop 786, though it’s clear that some of the letters have been knocked out. Lenbrg, I guess. Across the street sits an old gas station with actual pumps, shut down and boarded up before the switch to electric three decades ago.
We keep up a frenzied pace, so much so that we don’t hear the footsteps behind us until it’s too late. I pull back on Avery’s hand, spinning her around.
There are four of them, each one bigger than us, wearing navy blue bandanas over their dark, shaved heads. I’m not sure if the color’s supposed to mean anything, but they’d be intimidating with or without them. They’re stockier than most Fringers, with muscles the size of grapefruits.
“Hey!” The one in the front steps forward, loose white T-shirt rippling in the wind. “Not so fast, there. Ain’t never seen you around.” His words echo along the empty road.
Avery and I huddle close together. These guys are twice as big as the ones back in Syracuse. For the first time, I actually wish Eva was down here with us.
Avery steps forward, trying to be diplomatic. “Is this your town?”
“Hell no.” The guy chuckles, slapping hands with his friend. “We’re from down south, beautiful. And you ain’t from around here either.”
“No we ain’t,” she counters. “We’re wanderers. Just looking for water.”
The guy smiles, advancing on us. “Well, come over here and I’ll give you a little something.”
“Avery,” I whisper, “we should run.”
“Too many of ’em,” she whispers back. “I can handle this.”
“What would possibly give you that idea?”
“Shh!” She steps in front of me, crossing her arms.
“Aw, don’t be scared,” the Fringe leader coaxes. “We ain’t gonna hurt you. Just come over here a second.”
Avery scowls. “In your dreams, maybe.”
I grab her arm, pulling her back. The last thing she needs to do right now is antagonize them.
She digs her heels into the ground, staying put.
The guy grins, rubbing his hands together. “We got a feisty one here, don’t we? I like feisty.”
Then, his grin turns to a frown as he notices something behind us.
“Stand back, Horatio!” A voice rings through the street. I spin around to see a gangly figure wearing a sweat-stained gray tank top and baggy jeans. The kid looks no older than me.
He stares down a crossbow too heavy for his stringy arms. A silver arrow glints in the sunlight, pointed in our direction. I can’t see beyond his circular goggles, but his mouth curls up in a confident smile at odds with his less-than-threatening build.
“Back up,” he yells. “They’re mine!”