After lunch we exit the comfort of the dining hall for the oppressive heat of Lenbrg’s northern sector. We pass the town farm before coming upon what’s left of a torn-down apartment complex.
Avery scoots closer to Bobby as we cross a lonely cul-de-sac. “So, we’ve met your dad. Where’s your mother?”
“Bovine flu hit real bad a couple of years ago,” he responds.
“Oh,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he shrugs, “no biggie.”
We turn a corner and George’s house comes into view-a ramshackle country barn, augmented with its own personal wind farm in the neighboring field.
George pauses in front of the building, resting his hands on his hips. “Don’t like livin’ inside Uni. Rather be my own man, know what I mean?”
Nobody answers, but he doesn’t seem to expect a response. He leads us up the front lawn in silence. Moments later the door swings open and a scrawny, mean-looking boy steps onto the porch.
George smiles. “Hey Danny. Didn’t see you at lunch.”
“I grabbed some stuff and left,” the boy responds quietly, never taking his eyes off of us. “Who are they?”
George heads up the steps and rustles the boy’s hair. “Change of plans, son. We’ve got passengers comin’ with us this afternoon.”
The boy glares at me like he’s possessed by a demon. I half expect his head to start spinning in circles.
“Relax Danny boy,” Bobby leans against a wide post supporting the canopy. “They’re just Shippers.”
The kid’s eyes widen at the word. He steps away until he’s back inside the house.
“Just a little skittish.” George motions toward the front door. “Can’t say I blame him.”
We follow him into the house. Ceiling fans push the warm air around in funnels. It’s not as bad as outside, but nowhere near as cool as the cafeteria.
Danny’s already disappeared. He couldn’t have had a hard time finding a hiding place. There’s stuff everywhere. And not normal house stuff like furniture. Stacks of packing boxes and endless piles of metal parts form a veritable maze inside the living room. Four spare tires lie in one corner while a mountain of cans rests in another. It’s an indoor junkyard museum covered in a layer of dust so thick you could knit a blanket from it. I sneeze as soon as we enter.
George takes us through two murky rooms of this before heading out a back door and down into a sea of junk. Turns out the inside of the house was just the appetizer.
“Got most of this from Seattle,” he declares proudly. “City Center’s pretty much gone, same with the coast where the water rose. But farther out the impact wasn’t as destructive. Chemicals killed the people. Didn’t kill their stuff.”
“That crossbow was lame, by the way.” Bobby runs his hand along a pile of hollow window frames. “Ooh,” he pulls a roughed-up, stringless guitar from the next pile. “Can I have this?”
“Don’t touch,” George says without looking back. Bobby reluctantly lets go of the instrument.
Just beyond the piles of junk sits a large moving van. It was white once, but all the dirt and dust now make it an ugly tan color. It’s gotta be one of the oldest looking vehicles I’ve ever seen. Worse still, there’s only room for two in the cabin. Assuming George’s son is coming along, Avery and I get to be the cargo.
As we continue winding through the heaps of trash, I marvel at the different scents around me. None of them are pleasant. “This is quite a collection.” I stumble past a metal pipe sticking into the middle of the pathway.
“Not everything’s useful, of course,” George replies, oblivious to the sarcasm, “but Danny and me like to tinker around with it anyways. You never know what’ll come in handy.”
“Best place for hide-and-seek,” Bobby grins. “You get used to the smells after a while.”
I wipe the sweat from my face, wondering how any outdoor game could be fun in this kind of heat. The van won’t be temperature controlled either. This is gonna be a ride I won’t be forgetting for a long time.
When we finally clear the never-ending field of trash, George moves to the back of the van and unlocks the door, pushing it up to the ceiling. Avery and I peer inside the trailer.
There are boxes everywhere, stacked neatly along the back wall but becoming more of a mess the closer they get to us. At least the place isn’t crammed with junk. Boxes I can handle.
“It’s no luxury liner,” George starts, “but this is what you kids wanted.”
“Whoo, boy.” Bobby shakes his head. “Have fun, guys.”
“When are we leaving?” I ask, eager to get the whole thing over with.
George scratches the side of his head. “Soon as we can.” He cups his hands around his mouth. “Danny!”
The kid appears noiselessly from behind the nearest junk mountain, running to his dad.
“You got your gloves, boy?”
Danny nods and heads to the front of the van.
Bobby crosses his arms. “Good luck. I can’t say I envy you, being stuck in that trailer all afternoon. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Avery grabs his shoulder. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Yeah.” I smile.
“No prob. Be safe.”
George rests his hands on his hips, eyes slit. “Don’t go stealing anything while I’m away, Henderson.”
Bobby sticks his hands in the air. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He leans close to us, whispering. “Not like he’d notice.”
Then, out of nowhere, a loud rumble tears through the air above us. Thunder.
My eyes dart up to the sky. There aren’t any clouds. It can’t be thunder. Lenbrg’s the quietest place I’ve ever been.
Then I see it-a familiar green dot shooting down at us through the blue. Not again.
And just like last time, it’s headed straight for me.
My heart does somersaults in my chest, but the pain’s gone. I’m in control.
There’s only one problem. Pearls don’t make noise, not like the rumbling I just heard.
A shadow falls over the empty field beyond us as a government cruiser lowers to the ground a couple hundred feet away. Dust and dirt kicks up as the machine’s thrusters batter the earth. I cover my face as it settles down, peering through my fingers at the steadily approaching Pearl.
“Are you gonna catch it?” Avery steps away.
I nod. “I can use it.”
The cruiser’s engines shut off and the rumbling silences. The sunlight glints off the ship’s shiny black exterior. The windows blend seamlessly with the body-an ominous, impenetrable machine. It sits like a shark’s fin poking out from the ground, ready to attack. Whether it’s after me or the Pearl is the only question. Maybe it’s after both.
George jumps behind the wheel of the van. Bobby staggers back into the junkyard, taking refuge among the piles of rubble. The Pearl continues its path toward my hands.
A ramp lowers from the bottom of the cruiser and seven soldiers run into the field. With their dark bullet-proof uniforms, they look more like robots than people.
I gaze up at the Pearl, coaxing it forward. The soldiers sprint through the dying grass. Avery grabs my arm. “There’s no time! Get in the van!”
“No.” I stare up at the Pearl. “I can do this.”
She backs away as the energy draws nearer. My fingers buzz. The soldiers’ heavy boots clomp through the dirt. Thirty more seconds and they’re on us.
Then the Pearl lands in my arms and all hell breaks loose.