On a table near the door sat the orphans’ containers. Most of the food was already gone. Above them was a wall of hooks from which many weapons and flamethrowers hung. Had Friday been in his shoes, she would have likely opened one of those tanks and set the room on fire. With only a single entrance, the Fire Lords would burn before they could escape. But he couldn’t kill so indiscriminately, especially when he hadn’t found what he was looking for.
Robinson was about to leave when he noticed a cage in the far corner of the room and saw a small form lying inside. Part of him wanted to help the person, but the risk was too great. From crossing the room to waking the person inside, there were too many things that could go wrong. He backed out slowly instead.
Robinson continued down the path until he came to a steel staircase. He was about to head up when he heard heavy footsteps overhead. He stepped back into the shadows as a very large man descended, the steps rattling underneath his weight. When he reached the bottom, he turned toward the main room but stopped after a few seconds.
Robinson felt his heartbeat race as the man pulled up his steel protective mask and looked around. He carried one of the flamethrowers on his back, and the blue primer flame felt as bright at the sun. If the man turned in his direction, Robinson would have to act. Thankfully, the man grumbled and kept walking, disappearing down the corridor.
Robinson circled the stairs and went down another corridor that led to a large bay and the plane.
It was a fixed-wing, single engine plane as he had suspected, but no amount of research could prepare him for the state of the thing. It appeared that most parts had been replaced from nose to tail. And many more were missing. Patchwork tin had replaced the fuselage. The windshield was gone. The rudders appeared to be made of plastic. And the instrumentation panel was nothing but empty holes and a few unnamed toggles that dangled limply in front of the yoke, which, shockingly, had been supplanted by an oversized wrench.
Even more disheartening, the engine cowl was open, and the battery was missing. He looked around the room to no avail. The plane had been refueled, but without that battery, he had zero chance of flying.
Robinson sighed, fearing he’d done all this for nothing. Then he remembered seeing that battery before.
He made his way to the sleeping room and waited for his eyes to adjust. There it was—the battery—sitting on the table next to the Orphans’ food supplies. A wave of relief flooded him. Then he saw movement, and panic lit his body with the force of a thousand stars.
At the back of the room was Underfoot quietly working a screwdriver into the prisoner’s cage directly in front of him. She looked up, and it all became clear. Robinson knew by her jade green eyes she was Underfoot’s sister.
Chapter Ten
The Mother Bird
Underfoot had come for his sister.
Robinson was disappointed but not surprised. He knew the boy hadn’t been forthcoming about everything, but he felt like he’d shared enough for the lad to be straight with him.
When Underfoot turned, Robinson saw a myriad of things in his face. Regret. Defiance. But mostly fear. He was so close to the one thing he wanted most in the world, and yet, his decision now put all of them in danger. Robinson considered leaving, but he stepped into the room instead.
As quietly as possible, Robinson tiptoed his way through the sleeping bodies, careful to avoid refuse at their feet. He thought he saw one woman’s eyes open, but she turned over and went back to sleep.
Once Robinson reached the cage, he whispered to the girl, asking about the key. She raised a thin, dirty finger toward a pot-bellied man with a dense beard sleeping in the center of the room. A ring of rusty keys was hooked to his belt.
Robinson exhaled slowly and wended his way back through the mishmash of cots and bodies until he reached the pot-bellied man. He stunk of alcohol and kerosene. Robinson waited patiently to get a read on his inhalations before reaching out, thumbing the latch, and pulling the ring away. Then he headed back to the cage and freed the girl.
They were headed for the door when Robinson stopped to grab the battery, only to watch as one of the frayed cables slipped off the battery post and fell to the floor with a thud. When he looked up, he found one of the women staring at him. She blinked twice, as if she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Then her mouth parted as she sucked in air to scream. Robinson kicked her in the face and smashed the room’s only lamp before he drove the kids out.
They heard the sleeper shout in the din as the others stirred in confusion.
Robinson shouted to the girl, “The plane!” She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Underfoot’s hand and hustled down the darkened corridor.
When they burst into the hangar, Robinson thrust the battery and cables into the girl’s hands. “Put this under the hood!” Then he and Underfoot overturned a table to block the door. A second after it was secure, someone pounded on it from the other side. More voices approached.
“The hangar door!” the girl shouted, “Open it before they comes ’round!”
Robinson rolled the giant metal door open. An alarm bell had already sounded, and they heard the clomp-clomp of fast approaching feet. Robinson kicked over a rusty barrel full of fuel just as the girl slammed the plane’s cowl.
“Get in!” She shouted.
All three leaped into the plane. There, Robinson froze.
“Do you knows how to fly?” the girl asked.
“Yes!” Robinson snapped. “Sort of.”
He flicked what he thought was the master battery switch but couldn’t remember what followed. The girl huffed and reached past him, pulling what Robinson suspected was the fuel mixture to full rich. Then she opened the throttle minutely. Robinson churned the primer before flicking the ignition switch. The propeller whirled to life.
Behind them, shouts erupted as the door was forced open. A bolt was fired and bounced off the plane’s fuselage.
“Go!” Underfoot shouted.
Robinson shoved the throttle forward. The plane propelled forward just as the barricade fell behind it. Numerous men with lit flamethrowers appeared. One threw a fire bomb that bounced off the plane’s tail but didn’t explode.
“Hold this!” Robinson said of the yoke.
The girl grabbed it as Robinson leaned out the window and fired four shots from his pistol. The first three went into the crowd of Fire Lords. The fourth struck the cement flooring, igniting the spilt fuel. A flash lit the room followed by screams.
The girl directed Robinson to the airstrip. The plane bounded over potholes as Robinson fought to keep the nose straight. Behind them, a caravan of motorcycles and other vehicles appeared.
“They’s coming fast!” Underfoot yelled.
The girl shouted at her brother to move as she leaped into the backseat, stepping over a floor that was little more than mottled wood. She jerked two cables that stretched out to the wings, and a flamethrower turret rotated backward. A third cable spit a deluge of fire that swallowed the two lead motorcycle riders and sent their blazing bodies careening into the ditch.
A giant truck roared in from the opposite side, releasing their own deluge of fire that coated the plane in flames. It must have been coated with non-flammable material because it quickly smoked out.
The girl bounded to the opposite wing and used the flamethrower turret there to shroud the truck with fire. It quickly spun into the dirt, its burning occupants bailing out.
The end of the road loomed ahead. Robinson didn’t know if he had enough speed, but he pulled back on the yoke anyway and felt the plane lift. The headwind vibrated them violently. Then Robinson pushed the throttle all the way up, and the plane soared into the sky.
The engine strained against the buffeting wind, shaking the yoke in Robinson’s hands. He worked the ailerons to facilitate a banking turn as the lift changed the vertical force to side force. When the drag on the outer wing pulled the nose up, he pumped the rudder to oppose the adverse yaw. After a few shaky moments, he could fully
turn the plane.
As they gained altitude, Robinson passed back over the refinery. Flames could already be seen spilling out of the central building, and black smoke gushed from every opening. On the ground, Fire Lords could be seen fleeing for safety while racing frantically to save their vehicles. Then, suddenly, a huge explosion lit up the night sky. The plane shook from the convulsive force. Underfoot gasped, but the girl’s eyes narrowed. Robinson thought he saw satisfaction there.
Robinson jockeyed around for another turn just as a second explosion engulfed the tanks. Fed by the wind, the refinery became a sprawling, blinding inferno. He was preparing to turn away when he saw movement down below. There, many cars and motorcycles were amassed outside the disaster area.
Robinson swallowed but pushed on.
Once Robinson had set his course above the old railroad tracks, he looked back at Underfoot. “You should have told me.”
“She’s my sister,” was all he could manage.
The boy didn’t need a lecture. And the truth was Robinson had done similar things not so long before that still troubled him. To his surprise, it was the girl that spoke next.
“Don’t blame him,” the girl said. “The fault was mine.”
“Dustynose, I presume,” Robinson said.
The kids traded looks. Robinson grinned.
“Don’t look so surprised. It wasn’t hard to figure out. There were only two times he spoke with any emotion. Once when he mentioned his sis and later when he talked about Fang’s predecessor. Wasn’t hard to figure out they were the same person. That’s the irony of loving someone. They’re both your greatest strength and your biggest weakness.”
Robinson braved a look at Dustynose. She was pretty in a tomboy-ish way. Natty hair. A broken nose. Intelligent eyes. Yeah, he could see the leader in her, even after Spires knows how long as a captive.
“It’s not hard to guess your story either. After your exile, the Fire Lords captured you. Or maybe you went to them directly? Either way, you tried to negotiate a deal to keep your people alive because the greenhouse had been failing, and one bad winter and no more Troyus. You knew Fang would never deal with rival players, so you used the myth of the mother bird.”
“Fang’s a brute and a fool,” Dustynose said. “No ways he’d ever hold O City together without the edi’s. I knew zero doubt he’d make the spit and firm.”
“And you probably expected him to keep it. So, what happened? The Fire Lord wanted a change of terms?”
“Kids growing your edi’s seemed good for a time. Then they figur’d why not get ’em to do other things.”
“Better slaves than partners? Don’t beat yourself up about it. It wasn’t a terrible play. Unfortunately for you, the game’s just beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a whole bunch of Fire Lords assembling after we left. They won’t be too happy losing to kids. I’d say the stakes are about to get much higher.”
Dustynose sat back. He knew she was thinking the same thing.
Chapter Eleven
Jacks
Friday was packing her bag when Robinson entered the Nest.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Friday nodded, taking one last look around the room.
It wouldn’t be such a bad place to birth a child, she thought. At least they have each other.
She looked over the girls, including Pix.
“Remember my words,” Friday said. “You have strength, but strength is always tested. From without and within. Be the sticks that stand together, and you will stand unbroken.”
Pix nodded. Friday and Robinson left the room.
As they crossed the second-floor balcony, they saw the children gathered around the tree. Fang and Dustynose yelled at each other until Snapfinger and the Reds ushered her toward the double doors that led to the lavatory holding room.
When Robinson exited the tree, he approached Fang. “What will you do with her?”
“Dustynose knew the rules same as all in O City,” Fang said. “She took the Full's walk and come back. Now she’ll pay the rival player’s price.”
“But the Fire Lords—”
“Ye-uh,” Fang snorted. “She said they be coming. Let ’em, I says. I know the game good as any. And I got the Reds. My Reds’ll snuff ’em and smash their bones to dust!”
The children around the room cheered, but there was a nervousness to it. No one knew what to expect. If they did, Robinson thought, they might be scuttling for the hills. Or wetting their pants.
It wasn’t his concern. He was about to leave when he noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Underfoot?”
Fang snarled. “Like a fox that one. But we’ll find him. And when we do…” He slapped an empty hanging cage with his staff. “Done and dust.”
Robinson felt the urge to smash the kid in the face, but he didn’t think it would do any good. Fang must have sensed his hesitation and mistaken it for weakness. He stepped close enough that Robinson could smell his breath.
“Now, our bargain’s kept, Loper. So you and your fem got ’til sunfall to leave Troyus. And if we ever sees you this way again, I’ll dirt all three of you.”
Robinson tensed and his hand curled into a fist. Then, Friday touched him on the arm, and they turned to walk away as Fang’s Blue sycophants huddled around him.
Robinson and Friday were scaling the berm outside the old parking lot when Underfoot stepped from of the trees.
“Wait,” he said, out of breath. “You can’t leave.”
Robinson sighed. He didn’t want to do this.
“Sorry, kid, but our time here is done. We have to move on.”
“But Fang’s got Dustynose. He plans to dirt her on the roots. Fore everyone!”
“I know. And I feel bad about that. But there’s nothing we can do.”
“You could stop him. You could learn him about the Fire Lords. He’ll believe they’s coming if it comes from you.”
“He already knows and doesn’t care. Fang thinks he can handle them like he handles everything else. But the Fire Lords aren’t some random Lopers you chase away with a few sticks. They have weapons and large numbers. And they’re angry. We lit up their home in the middle of night, and you saw how quickly they escaped. And what was the first thing they did while their home was still burning? Gather their vehicles and weapons and prepare to retaliate. How are children with bows supposed to defend against that?”
“We can’t,” Underfoot said, “but you can.” The boy stepped close. “I seen you. You got the learning. You could arm the Orphans. Teach us.”
“There isn’t enough time.”
“Then maybe you could plan it for us—”
“Even if I did, who would listen? Not Fang. Not the Blues. They like things the way they are because it gives them some semblance of power. But what use is power when you’re living in a fishbowl? The whole purpose of life is to gain wisdom and experience so you can make things better for yourself and those you love. Look around you, Underfoot. Has anything gotten better since you’ve been here? One of the ancients said something like, ‘It’s not the strongest of the species that survives nor the most intelligent, but the one most adaptable to change.’ If you’re going to survive, Troyus needs to change, and it needs to change now. Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening.”
Friday chose that moment to step forward. “You could come with us. Crusoe and I could teach you how to survive.”
A glimmer of desire appeared in Underfoot’s eyes. Then he shook his head. “Would you leave him?” he said, nodding to Robinson. “Or you, her?”
The answer for both was obvious.
“Orphans ain’t ’posed to value blood. Rules say we all play as one. But she’s my sis. The only to ever care to know me. Who saw me not as a color, but as me. Without her, what do I got?”
The boy’s lip quivered. Robinson felt sympathy for him. But before he could say anymore, Snapfinger and a handful of armed reds burst from the tree li
ne.
“’Lo, Greenie,” Snapfinger smirked. “Knew if I followed the Lopers, they’d lead me to you.”
“You has to help me,” Underfoot shouted as two Reds grabbed him. “Please!” The fear in his voice prompted Robinson and Friday to spread apart, arrows beaded in on them.
“Fang says I need a reason to dirt you,” Snapfinger said. “But he don’t say how big that reason need be.”
Robinson glared at her before turning back to Underfoot.
“Just stall for time, kid. When the Fire Lords come—and they will come—Troyus is going to burn. No one will care about a couple rule breakers then. When you smell smoke, make your move, and run for the hills.”
“Best follow your own ’vice, Loper,” Snapfinger said. “Cuz after sunfall, it won’t be the Fire Lords you needin’ worry about. It’ll be me.”
Friday stepped in front of the girl and said, “You should pray to your Gods that doesn’t happen.”
Snapfinger swallowed before nodding to the Reds to haul Underfoot away.
“They’ll kill him,” Friday said after they left, “to send a message.”
“I know. But he knew the consequences of bringing her back and did it anyway.”
“We leave then?”
Robinson nodded, then noted Friday’s surprise.
“We didn’t come here by choice. They made us come. And every day were not searching for the City of Glass puts you and our child more at risk.”
“And what of these children? Are they not at risk?”
“You taught me the only thing that matters is survival.”
“And I believed it. Once. Then I met a man who taught me that people are more important. Which would you use for our child? The world we suffer or the one we make?”
Underfoot was choking. Fang held his staff at the boy’s throat and pressed it harder as the remaining children watched on.
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