“Momma, poppa,” Melanie took off her cap and set it on a hat rack made of pipes, her fiery hair falling around her shoulders, “this is the stranger I was tellin’ you’s about, who had a little crash near the edge of the city.”
The parents looked up from their cooking, both alarmed and appalled.
“Mel!” the mother gasped in disbelief. “How can you go about bringin’ a stranger into our home!?”
“But—”
“But nothing, miss! We’ve had these talks before, young lady!”
“Now, hold on a minute, Gene,” interjected the father. “Obviously this young man’s in a heap of trouble, might be nice for us to lend a hand.”
“I don’t know, Morris, what if—”
“Ahem,” Sam coughed and awkwardly raised his hand. He was given everyone’s full attention. “Look…I’m not really sure what’s going on here. Or where I am. But I promise I don’t want any trouble.”
“What are you doing here, son?” Morris asked.
“I’m just trying to get home, sir.” Sir. There was that word. That word Evron hated. Why did he use it? Was Morris better than him? Was—
“Sounds like as good a motivation as any.” The burly man tasted some of his stew and smacked his lips. “Why don’t you join us for supper, and we’ll see what we can do for ya.”
Minutes later, darkness had fully settled outside. It was a beautifully majestic sight: thousands of twinkling lights in the sky, the aerial homes of the people of Vista were like a bundling of fireflies in the night. Dougie and Mel set chipped bowls around the table which Gene promptly filled with beef stew. They ate with mismatched silverware and drank warm water from plastic cups.
“So this place…” Sam started as spoons clinked. “It’s…different.”
“Me and Dougie were both born in Vista,” Mel said, rubbing her little brother’s bushy hair.
“I know it’s not much,” Morris cut in. “We basically live off scrap. Whatever we can find from ruined cities, occasional merchants, whatever comes around.”
“Why in the sky?” Sam asked. “Why not settle on the ground?”
“It’s harder for the Sentries to find us on the move. So we stay in the clouds. We occasionally have to fight them off, but we’ve been blessed so far.”
“Wait, the Sentries? From Paradiso?”
“Mmhmm.” Morris sipped some broth and wiped his mouth. “The machines keep trying to force us into their way of life, but we keep resisting. They’ve been getting more violent, though. Invasions more frequent. I just wish they would let us find our own way. Let us make our own mistakes. I understand their intentions, but we’ll never be able to find out if we can form together if they keep tearing us apart.”
Mel and Dougie flicked chunks of meat at each other, which was quickly broken up by Gene. “Act like adults, you two!”
“Why don’t you team up?” Sam asked. “I mean, if you combined with Atlas, you could take on the mach—”
“Shhh!” Gene hushed him. She looked around to make sure no one was listening, paranoid, then whispered. “Be careful what you say here!”
“Wait, what’s wrong with At—”
“Shhh!”
Morris rolled his eyes and sighed. “Calm down, Eugenia, he doesn’t know any better.” He turned to Sam. “Most people around here aren’t too fond of Atlas or its people.”
“But why?”
Dougie answered, swirling his stew with a mopey expression, “They’re richer than us…”
“Now, that’s not totally true,” clarified Morris. “But they are more stable. In a better hiding spot. With much fewer struggles. That makes a lot of people jealous. Our boneheaded leaders have been secretly discussing attacking Atlas for years.”
“I don’t understand…they seem pretty civilized to me…they even gave me that plane…”
Gene dropped her spoon. Her eyes widened. Everything went silent. She gave Mel a hard frown. “Did you know that this young man came from Atlas?”
“Well…I mean…his engine was definitely from Atlas, I recognized the workin’s and such…but I didn’t think it much! They’s just folk like you and me!”
“Well, that’s that then!” She angrily turned to her husband. “We have a refugee from Atlas in our home!”
Morris shrugged.
“I think I’ve lost my appetite!” She stood up, slammed in her chair and stormed upstairs, her footfalls thunderous on the ceiling.
“Don’t worry about her,” Morris said. “She’s compassionate. Can’t blame her for that. Just a little misguided. I have no qualm with the people of Atlas. But I do understand why some people here do. It’s jealousy. Bitterness. And, worst of all, stubbornness. Pride is a powerful thing. And when that’s harmed…well…”
There was a bang upstairs. His wife was obviously stamping the floor, vying for attention.
He pointed up. “You get that…”
The pounding finally ceased. Morris pushed his empty bowl to the center of the table and Dougie started cleaning up. “Now,” he said, patting his belly, “about your airship.”
“I can fix it,” Mel blurted with delight. “Won’t be nothin’ to it! Just needs two new balloons, some juice and a water pump and he’ll be good as gold! Should be able to find it at the market tomorrow, no problem.”
“Wonderful. You’re going to be one heck of a mechanic one of these days, my dear.”
“Um…” Sam again raised his hand. “I don’t really have any money…”
Morris smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Not a problem, son. Just because we’re poor doesn’t mean we’re not generous. We’ll be sure to get you on your way.”
Samuel Pierce wasn’t used to this kind of hospitality. A part of him knew that he was supposed to say “thank you,” but another part didn’t know how when rejection wasn’t involved.
“I know it don’t look like much,” Melanie said as she unrolled a sleeping bag on the floor between her and Dougie’s beds. “But it’s comfy.”
A divider on the upper level separated the rooms. Dougie and Mel shared. Their room was decorated with old engine parts and maps of the world, which Sam found fascinating. He thought Paradiso would’ve been built on the ruins of New York or Washington, so he was surprised to see that it was actually located on—
“In the mornin’ we’ll head over to the market and collect some scrap for fixin’ up your craft. Shouldn’t take more than the day if I ain’t one of the best there is.”
“I really wish I knew how to thank you…”
“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for. Like my poppa says, we don’t come together then we risk comin’ apart.” She kicked off her boots and threw herself in bed. Sam tucked himself into the sleeping bag. Stars glimmered in the black sky beyond the glass roof. Dougie put on some headphones and rolled in his bed. “One of these days,” Mel sighed, “I’m gettin’ myself out of this dump. Don’t know where, but there’s gotta be somethin’ out there for me.” She spoke dreamily. Hands behind her head. Staring at the stars.
“You’re quite the optimist.”
“You gotta be, Mr. Pierce. What else is there ‘cept for whinin’ and moanin’ about how the world ain’t fair? World ain’t supposed to be fair. That’s why it’ll feel so good when you finally make it. Believe me, there ain’t a lick of anything in me that’s jealous of them Atlas people. Know why? Because I’m gonna have to work extra hard to get what I want and climb from pits them people didn’t know existed. And that’s gonna make me stronger than any of them. It’s the things we work for that we can truly say we love, not the things we’re handed.”
The insects in the jars stopped flapping their wings and their lights went out. The room was bathed only in moonlight.
Mel let out a big yawn. “Goodnight, Mr. Pierce. Hope your dreams are as sweet as honey and toast.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think they are.”
A few moments later, she was snoring. Loudly. Like a chainsaw that was having tro
uble starting up. It made Sam laugh. And, amazingly, within minutes, he managed to fall asleep to it.
28
The Sky Raid
He woke up to a big pair of eyes staring down at him. Sunlight glared through the windows. He sat up and was offered a plate of eggs by Dougie, which he ate hungrily, all the while the little boy watched him with alert interest.
“So how old are you?” Sam asked through a mouthful of food.
Dougie counted on his fingers, then held up eight.
“You like it here?”
He shrugged.
Melanie appeared at the top of the ladder. “He don’t talk much. ‘Specially to strangers.”
“Me niether.”
“Here.” She threw him a short rope with a buckle at one end and a pair of worn leather gloves.
“What’s this?”
“You afraid of heights?”
“A little, yeah…”
“Then’s probably best you don’t know.”
Minutes later, he was standing at the edge of the aerial bus’s rooftop, gloved fingers clasping a zip line that descended into the cluster of sky homes below. Dougie was the first to go. He casually leapt off the bus and zipped into the lower portion of the city, disappearing amongst the hundreds of other travelers.
“Alright, now I’m gonna go and you head on right after me. This line goes right to the capital as long as you don’t veer course.” Mel stepped to the edge.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Sam asked, trembling, barely able to look down without feeling bile rise in his stomach.
“So far? Come on!”
“Wait, just one more—”
It was too late. She jumped off the roof and took off into the sky.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Jump and grip the cord. Jump and grip the cord. Jump and—”
A powerful gust of wind pushed him off his feet and he went flying down the line, flailing in panic as he clumsily whizzed between sky homes, nearly colliding with fellow zip liners, the bright blue skies seemingly infinite beyond the airborne metropolis. He had never held on tighter to anything in his life as the line careened around corners, sped past citizens of Vista, and slipped through the narrow gaps between floating vehicles until he finally slid to the deck of the aircraft carrier, his buckle automatically snapping open, sending him rolling on the concrete.
As he lay in sheer horror, gasping for breath…Melanie and Dougie were holding back laughter.
“Everyone falls the first time!” she chuckled as she helped him up. “But that don’t make it any less funny!”
When he collected himself, he and Melanie explored the marketplace. The citizens of Vista were far from the clean, uniformed people who roamed the streets of Paradiso and Atlas. They instead wore shabby, ragged, dirty clothing and jewelry that looked as if it had been scrounged from the bottom of dumpsters. The shops and kiosks all proudly displayed random scrap, dangling junk pieces of metal from ropes so that they lightly clanged in the breeze.
“First thing we’ll be needin’ is some fuel. A drum or two should do.” Melanie was checking off a list as she led the group through the crowded streets.
“Where exactly do you get fuel? Or power? Or any of these resources?” Sam asked.
She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Don’t be lookin’ too far into it or you’ll lose sight of what Vista represents.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Melanie! How’s my favorite pilot?” said a small, balding, dark-skinned man from a booth packed with discarded parts. He was smiling with open arms and gold glasses glinting in the sunlight. A large parrot cleaned its wings on the roof.
“Doin’ well, Mr. Jax.” She put her list on the counter. “Need these parts if you got ‘em. My friend here had a little crash and we need to fix up his ship and get him back on his good way.”
The parrot squawked, “Need if you got ‘em, need if you got ‘em.”
Jax adjusted his glasses and went over the list, mumbling something about his annoying bird.
Sam noticed something strange about the people of Vista. Despite their obvious hardship and straggly appearances, they all seemed…happy. Paradiso’s citizens had been automatons. Atlas’s had been content to the point of boredom. Yet Vista’s were…cheery, colorful, far more enthusiastic about the road ahead. There was a—
“Melanie…” the old junk broker spoke quietly, gravely. “These parts…a water pump?”
She suddenly looked nervous. She straightened her back. Gulped.
He leaned in and whispered, “Are these for a vehicle from Atlas?”
“Don’t tell no one, Jax! Please. He don’t mean no trouble.”
“No, no, I understand. My lips are sealed,” he sighed. “Luckily I have everything you need here, so it shouldn’t arouse any—”
“From Atlas! From Atlas!” the bird screeched from its perch.
The mindless chatter of the citizens ceased like the chirp of a cricket that had just been squashed. The hundreds of shoppers roaming the flight deck of the capital turned and stared at Sam with curious, angry eyes.
“Okay.” He raised his hands. “Maybe I came from Atlas, but—”
“Arrest him!” “Send him to the brig!” “Kick him off our ship and back into the sea where he belongs!” The anguished cries for Sam’s head roared over any of his protests and before he knew it, he had been cuffed, bound, and was being walked through a narrow metal corridor with flickering lights and elliptical doorways. Melanie and Dougie could only watch in horror as their newfound friend was dragged away against his will while citizens threw fruit and pieces of scrap in his direction, serenading him with boos.
“This way you Atlas scum!” A guard pushed him through a door to the bridge, which had been turned into a sort of throne room. Upon a rickety lifeguard tower, the teeming flight deck visible through the windows in the background, sat an enormous, bearded man with a plastic crown and an eye patch. Sam was brought before him.
“You people sure you didn’t learn a few tricks from Paradiso!” he grumbled, the ropes cutting his wrists.
“Silence!” bellowed the King. “What brings you here?”
“I was on my way to…well, not really sure…but then my submarine…uh, plane…look, whatever it is, it crashed. So now I’m stuck until it’s fixed.”
“And you came from Atlas?”
“Okay, technically, I came from Atlas, but I just stumbled upon Atlas two days ago by mistake. I didn’t even know it existed.”
“So you are not a citizen of that vile city?”
“First off, no I’m not. Secondly, I wouldn’t call it a ‘vile’ city. They seemed friendly to me.”
“Ha,” the King scoffed. “Of course they’re friendly. They’re happy. Wealth will do that.”
“Or maybe they’re happy because they’re friendly? Not the other way around?”
“Silence you!” He stood and stomped one of his mismatched boots. “Why do you fly a craft from Atlas if you are not from Atlas?”
“I don’t know…they gave it to me?”
“So, let me see if I have your story straight.” He brushed his beard and paced around, a conniving lawyer before the witness stand. “You claim to not be from Atlas. Yet you fly a vehicle from Atlas and cannot answer the question as to where you are going. This leads me to but one logical conclusion…”
“He’s a spy for Atlas!” one of the guards blurted. “Nothing but a slimy spy here to take what little money we have and fill those rich pockets with it!”
“What? No! Are you crazy? I’m not a—”
“Silence! Uh, again.” The King sat back on his throne. “You have come to my kingdom, which has long struggled, from a kingdom that has long been comfortable, and you expect sympathy?”
“If people don’t come together,” Sam said with a hint of ferocity. “Then they fall apart.”
“Ha. Funny. We have long debated the cooperation of Atlas. They are free from the Sentries. We must constantly move to avoid
them.”
“So adapt? Overcome? Work harder? What do you want me to say? Some people have it better than others, that’s just how life is. But if you spend all of your time complaining about it instead of making some sort of effort to change, then—”
There was an alarm. A shrilly, continuous buzz.
The people outside began to scatter, taking refuge in shacks and shops. The King stood up looking half terrified, half excited. “They’re here!”
“Who?”
The windows shattered, and through them came two of Paradiso’s Sentries which immediately grabbed some fleeing guards and pulled them out into the sky. In the chaos, Sam ran for the corridor, hands still tied behind his back, and rushed outside to see dozens of Sentries randomly pulling up citizens. Some even shot nets from their tentacles that caught people like prey. They would then yank their catch off the deck and whisk them into the air to horrified screams.
“Halt, non-citizen!” One of the Sentries approached Sam and extended its wispy tendrils. “You are in violation of—” He kicked the machine in the eye and took off in a sprint across the flight deck. The orb shook off the assault, then gave chase. Its eye burned redder than ever as it pursued Sam through the crowd of panicked denizens, ignoring all but him. He finally reached the edge of the ship and looked down. Below, he could see the faint sight of gentle waves sloshing in the Ocean of Dreams thousands of feet below.
Farewell from Paradise Page 20