“What about supplies? We’re running short.”
“Then send Cassa and his pack to hunt. But have them go to east where their cries will not carry. It is fitting, I should think, that very soon we will all have our bellies full.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Black Eye of Infinity
The night passed achingly slow. There were so many things to see to, so many fires to put out. Dustynose took charge, and no one questioned her. She started by sending out groups of Reds to ensure the Fire Lords were truly gone and to deal with any survivors.
Inside Troyus, the Yellows set up triage unit to help the wounded. Most of the injured were burns from aerial strikes on the roof. Four others suffered bolt wounds. Two were hit by bullets. And one broke both legs when she fell from the Tree of Gifts while running messages inside.
In total, thirteen orphans had died. Not a bad number given the size and strength of their attackers. Still, there would be no celebration.
Underfoot had led the Greens to staunch the remaining fires on the rooftop. The flames had consumed over half their crops and destroyed the greenhouse covering that would have to be built again before winter. It would not be an easy task.
Dustynose ordered the Blues to remove the dead. They grumbled about it—unused to physical exertion—but did as ordered. The bodies were laid together behind the mall. In the past, the orphans had always burned their dead, but after this night, the act felt like desecration. Someone suggested doing as the ancients had and laying them beneath the earth. Dustynose agreed and scheduled the burial for the following day.
While the children saw to their tasks, Robinson and Friday found a small, dark corner of the mall where they cleaned each other’s wounds. They were oblivious to anything else around them.
“How did you know to attack the belly of the land movers?” Friday asked.
“It was a hunch,” Robinson said. “When I was young, I once helped my father seal the stairs behind our home to protect them from rain. When I was finished, he came out to inspect my work and asked me why I didn’t do the underneath. I said what good that would do since rain fell down, not up. He told me, “It’s always the places we can’t see that are most vulnerable.”
Friday nodded. The irony was she had never felt safer any place than in his arms.
Several hours later, Underfoot woke them there. “Come,” he said. “Dustynose is going to speak ’afore the tree.”
They followed the boy into the main atrium where, once again, the orphans were gathered. It was clear they were exhausted, but every one of them sat up when Dustynose appeared.
“Orphans of O,” Dustynose called. “Children of Troyus. It is good to be ’mong my brothers and sisses again. Even if the reason be bad like O City ain’t seen since the long, long back. I know you’s tired, and your hearts weep for those been dirted, but they’s gone to the nest of the real mother bird where the Brothers Ark and Ton-Bra watch over and say, “good game.”
“Good game,” the children repeated.
“And good it was. Though we lost some and suffer still, the rival players be beat hard, and now, for them, it’s game over, never to play again! Glory, glory?!”
“Glory, glory!” The children shouted and cheered.
“For that I say thanks to you.” She turned to Robinson and Friday. “And them. The Fives named ’em Lopers when they ’peared out the stretch; laughed when they said they’d been ‘sent.’ But sent they was, I see it. By the Tree. By the Brothers or Ton-Bra or the blowing winds. They come unwanted but stay when needed, which makes ’em friends.”
The orphans remained silent, realizing they were embarking on new territory here.
“Ye-uh,” Dustynose continued. “I spoke it. Troyus ain’t had friends since the far and back. But without ’em tonight, we’d all be dirt and dust. We broke the rules but won the game, which makes me say maybe more rules need breaking.”
Until that very night, speaking such a thing was heresy, but in the quiet murmurs that followed, Dustynose thought she heard an undercurrent of assent. Or at least, an echo of thoughts that had long existed but had never been given life until this very moment.
“I be a three and four,” Dustynose continued. “Full for sure. By all rights, I should make the leap. Would you have me leap now? Or our friends too? Times change. The world outside changes. I seen it. And if the Orphans is to keep playing, we got to change too. No more Shorts, Halfers, and Fulls. No more colors. No Fives. Just us. Together. Brothers and sisses we stay, but friends and lovers too.”
At this, she glanced back at Robinson and Friday. “I seen how they is for each other. And I want it.”
At this, the children tittered. Even Robinson and Friday smiled.
“And I want it for you. We must rebuild Troyus. Remake it. If you like, I can lead. Or we can choose one better. But better it’ll be for all of us. To this, I say crosses.”
The orphans slowly filed out of the room. Many nodded and gave their thanks to Robinson and Friday as they passed. They seemed to have taken Dustynose’s words to heart. There would be problems going forward, but in the end, it was the only path that made sense.
“That was … well done,” Robinson said to Dustynose when she approached.
Dustynose nodded, but her tired face was still etched with worry. Get used to it, Robinson thought. It’s one of the many burdens of leadership.
“Underfoot says you’re to leave at dewday,” she said.
“That’s right,” Robinson said. “Time isn’t exactly on our side. And as much as we’ve enjoyed making your acquaintance, we’re still no closer to finding the City of Glass.”
“The City of Glass,” Dustynose repeated. “Is it known by any other name?”
“Not that we’ve heard,” Friday said. “Why?”
“Come,” Dustynose said.
The moment she turned for the tree, Robinson knew where they were headed. He was grateful they only had to climb one floor’s worth of steps otherwise his aching legs might have given out. But when Dustynose stopped at the gate and drew it aside, Robinson hesitated. Underfoot had said the store was sacred to the Orphans. That it contained everything of value they possessed. The pessimist in him said nothing inside could aid them in their quest. The other side said, you never know.
Friday must have shared his reluctance. She decided to wait behind. Dustynose crossed the tremulous limb. Robinson followed her as she ducked under the metal gate and went inside.
Robinson hadn’t known what to expect, but as Dustynose lit a candle, he felt his breath catch.
Lining the room was row after row of metal shelving, each brimming with toys. Plastic toys. Wooden toys. Dolls and animals. Small figurines of men and women in vibrant suits. There were plastic creatures, rocket ships, shiny vehicles, earth movers, and crafts. There were books, musical instruments, and plastic guns. Many bicycles and wagons too. And, of course, there were balls and equipment from every game imaginable.
Robinson roamed the center aisle, running his hand over rusty strings of an instrument. He tussled the fabric of a caped suit between his fingers. He saw the smiling faces of children everywhere. In one old photo, a stork with a hat flew with a baby in a sling. The mother bird. Robinson smiled.
No wonder they chose this place.
Dustynose walked a few steps behind him, staying quiet as he approached a section of games in old dusty boxes. He reached for the nearest one named CLUE. It must have been for adults because it showed aged people holding an odd assortment of ropes, wrenches, and optical glasses. Another box showed ladders and slides and looked to be for small children. A third called SCRABBLE only had tiled words.
“These be left behind by the ancients to teach us the way,” Dustynose said. She cracked open a box called SORRY! and saw the four colors of Troyus. She rattled a bag of the rectangular tiles with dots on them and said, “these learn us numbs, but only the Fives matter.”
On many of those faded boxes, Robinson pieced together a fa
miliar set of names. Here is where they derived the names of their Gods. Only the Ark Brothers were PARKER BROTHERS and Ton-Bra the great was MILTON BRADLEY. Robinson exhaled in wonder.
Dustynose directed him to the back of the room where on a makeshift plinth sat a small, black sphere. Dustynose picked it up reverentially.
“This be the Black Eye of Infinity,” she said. “The only magic left from the far and back.”
She handed it to him with great care. The first thing he noticed was a faded white circle with what looked like the numeral ‘8.’ Somehow the children had transmogrified this to the symbol for infinity. Robinson turned the object over and saw a small window with something moving inside.
“Ask a question,” Dustynose said. “Maybe it will show you your city.”
Robinson smiled at her childlike enthusiasm and did. “Will we find the City of Glass?”
Dustynose put her hands atop his and shook the sphere. A polyhedron inside appeared with the faded words: It is decidedly so.
Dustynose’s eyes sparkled. Robinson thanked her and handed her back the sphere. As she returned it to its place, Robinson saw a group of large, colored letters on the wall. Their mounting had been broken, but he still made out the original words, TOYS ‘R’ US, which over time had somehow become TROYUS.
Though there was something poignant in learning the origins of the Orphans, though he knew then none of it would help him find what he was looking for.
“But we ain’t done yet,” Dustynose said as he turned for the door.
She led him up a set of steep stairs to a small office. A broken computer sat on an old desk surrounded by stacks of books in every shape and size.
“When a Blue ‘comes a Fives,” Dustynose said, “they’s shown the store. But few come here. Books ain’t matter to them cuz few can read the words. Most says it’s against the rules, but the swole that spurt me thought diff. She was right.”
Dustynose reached for a book filled with scribbled handwriting inside.
“These was written by the Fives since the far and back. More they go, less I ’stand, but I ken a few. When you spoke of your City, I got to ’membering a passage ’bout another Lo—I mean, stranger. He too was hunting such a place.”
Dustynose scoured several of the books until she found what she was looking for. She set it flat on the desk and slid it in front of Robinson. He read it.
Aug. 14, 2164.
A fully-aged man entered town from the south yester’noon. Scouts found him scavenging water near the runoff, and the Red Patrol detained him immediatlee. He was sunburned and mind-addled. He neither stood commands or had sense of his troubles. We attempted to splain our rules to him, but he could only babble about a “hidden city” named Dia he believed close by. I demanded details of this city, but he said little other than it was paradise and he had to reach it. This man did hold in his possession an old map. Circled was the once-city of DENVER, but no other clues could be found. In the end, the Council of Five deemed him crazy and ordered him to be taken into the woods, executed quickly, and put beneath the dirt. One note: the man had a burn wound on his left hand like this:
I do not know what to make of it or his story, but doubt anything will come of it.
Leader 144, Miltonwood, CO
Blue Unit, 1 of 5
“Dia,” Robinson said. He withdrew his own map and scanned the region until he found the city of Denver to the northwest. Using the legend, he estimated it was around two hundred seventy-five kilometers on a straight line. Going by the old roads, it was closer to three hundred.
“How long would it take you?” Dustynose asked.
“Weather permitting, a week. Maybe eight days. But I’m worried about Friday.”
“Because she’s swole?”
“Well,” Robinson said. “That and she’s developed a cough. I don’t like the sound of it.”
“You could stay here until you’re rested.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. If her condition worsens…” Or the virus spreads… “It has to be today.”
Dustynose thought about it, then smiled. “’haps I can short your time some.”
Robinson wondered how.
They stood at the western entrance of the mall. A handful of Orphans had shown up to watch them leave. Some looked relieved, as if once the strangers were gone, there troubles might leave with them. Others wanted to see the manner of their departure.
“I had a few Greens pack some edi’s for your trip,” Dustynose said. “It ain’t much, but it should last you your week.”
“We’re very grateful,” Friday said. “Thank you.”
Underfoot stood a few feet back, his eyes pinned to the floor. He wasn’t used to goodbyes. Robinson stepped close and tipped his chin up.
“Don’t look so glum, kid,” Robinson said. “This is one walk I’m happy to take.”
Underfoot’s eyes watered, and Robinson tousled the boy’s hair.
“Be strong for your sis. And your people. One day, you’re going to make a great leader. The secret is not to lead from here,” Robinson said as he touched the boy’s head, “or here,” he said as he touched the boy’s chest, “but both. You ’stand?”
Underfoot nodded, as the tears splayed down his face. Then he hugged Robinson fiercely before turning and running off.
Despite the cold rations, the Master couldn’t have been happier. Just after dawn, Cassa had returned to their camp with a child he’d taken prisoner. The girl, wearing red, had been scouting the area when Cassa took her by surprise. She was remarkably obstinate for one her age, though one look at Viktor’s accoutrements and she confessed all. Crusoe and his lover would be leaving for Denver that morning. The Master was giddy.
He ordered they break camp and take up position in the wooded area just north of the mall, where their targets wouldn’t see them until it was too late. They would have no option but to surrender. The Master doubted they’d make a stand with the girl pregnant.
It seemed providence had finally turned its eyes on him. The long journey was soon to be over, and a new journey—the one where he took the reins of this land and bent it to his will—was about to begin.
And yet just as the Master allowed himself to bask in the moment, he heard a noise in the distance. It began as a low roar, but it soon rose into pitch until he recognized the sound. He stood, horrified, as his plate and flatware slid off his lap and landed in the dirt.
“No…” the Master muttered. “No. No. No!”
Cassa burst from the foliage just as Viktor appeared from his tent. Neither had ever seen the Master in such a frenzy.
“Attack!” he howled. “Bring it down now!”
Cassa leaped on Bull and tore through the trees for the open meadow, his pack immediately responding to his pipe’s call. Viktor could only watch dumbfounded as the thing rose into the sky.
Robinson pulled gently on the yoke as he fed the engine power. The clatter of the airplane’s engine rose in pitch as it lifted from behind the mall and began a slow roll to the north. He had wanted one last look at Troyus before leaving, but then he noticed several objects racing across the field to the east.
When the first bolt hit the plane, Robinson hammered the throttle forward. He heard Friday gasp as she recognized the pack below. Even the leader’s mask, glimmering in the soft light of morning, shone brightly.
But it wasn’t their presence or survival that rocked Robinson world. That moment came when he leveled out the turn and passed within a hundred feet of two men standing on a small hill near a cluster of trees. He couldn’t have known the smaller man now went by the name Viktor. When Robinson knew him, he had called him Mr. Dandy. But it was the sight of his companion that stilled Robinson’s heart. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking the hateful visage of Vardan Saah.
PART TWO
“Discovery was no longer a happy ship.”
-Arthur C. Clarke
Chapter Fifteen
Sickness
A
s the plane picked up airspeed, the ground fell farther away until it purged the canopy of ash and smoke that enveloped Troyus, only to level off a few thousand feet in the air. The laboring engine reduced from a scream to a wail, though the cabin still shuddered like teeth in a snowstorm.
Friday broke into a coughing fit that lasted nearly a minute. Robinson removed one hand from the yoke and placed it on her back, the worry boiling up inside him. When she finally stopped, he asked if she was okay. She nodded, suggesting she needed water. Robinson knew better. His worst fears were confirmed when he saw a smidgen of blood at the corner of her lips.
“How did they track us?” Friday asked to change the subject.
“Those creatures most likely. After the dust storm, I thought we’d seen the last of them.”
“This has gone beyond the thrill of hunt, Crusoe. They refuse to turn aside. It’s as if we have wronged them somehow.”
Robinson considered telling her about Saah but didn’t want to worry her further. She needed to focus on staying healthy for the task in front of them. Looking over their shoulders would only take their minds off the road ahead.
“It doesn’t change anything,” Robinson said finally. “The important thing is to keep forging ahead. Finding the City of Glass is the only thing that matters.”
“And if there is no city? Or if those inside refuse to help?”
“That’s not an option. I believe it’s real and we’re meant to find it.”
Friday smiled. “My sun and moon. How much you’ve changed. How much you’ve grown.”
“Thanks to you.”
Friday coughed again. The chill morning air cut through the porous plane like a knife. Robinson reached in back for the blankets the Orphans had given them.
“Here,” he said. “Wrap yourself in these.”
Once she was bundled up, Robinson focused on the horizon in front of him. The cloud cover kept the sun from shining through, and the hinterlands were bathed in slate grays and black blues. They had mapped their course west, following the old highway that would lead to a northern one several hundred kilometers down the road. At least this way, the chance of them overshooting the mark was slim.
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