“Who were?”
Her eyes met mine.
“The mice,” she whispered. “It’s the mice.”
* * *
While the mouse disease didn’t affect us kids, the grown-ups didn’t have any resistance to it.
But the worst part was knowing that it wasn’t aliens or the other countries that had brought danger to our home: it was something from Earth. What if other threats were lurking in the supplies? Was it even safe to eat the food? Had one of the killer weeds Phinneus had told me about hopped a ride, too? It was terrifying to consider.
The days turned into weeks, and we struggled to keep things going. Albie came to bed late every night. Between cooking and taking care of the grown-ups, he barely slept.
Tonight was no different. He staggered in and collapsed on his bed. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
“You okay?” I asked him.
“I’m so tired,” he said. “Can you stay with Sai tonight? His fever is bad.”
“Sure,” I said.
“I already gave him medicine. He was asleep a little while ago. Make him drink water if you can.”
“Okay.”
And then he closed his eyes and started snoring. He hadn’t even changed into his pajamas.
Like Albie, Sai was fast asleep, a low light glowing next to his bed. I touched his forehead. It felt hot.
I wandered around, looking at the digi-pics on the wall.
There was Sai as a young boy with an older woman—his mother?—standing in front of a house with leafy trees. A teenage version of Sai with his arm around another teenage boy, sitting on an Earth car vehicle and grinning at the camera. Another of them as young men in uniform. They were trying to look serious, but Sai was actually cracking a smile. Another digi-pic of the two of them wearing fancy black suits. The other man was kissing a woman in a white dress with some kind of netting on her head.
“Larry,” Sai said, his voice anxious. “Where’s Larry?”
Who was Larry? There was no Larry in the settlement.
I went over to him. “Sai?”
“Larry!” he shouted, trying to sit up.
I didn’t know what to do—it was scary. Then he started coughing so hard, he couldn’t breathe.
“Sai, you should lie back down,” I urged.
But he wouldn’t; he just got more agitated. Like Trey when he didn’t get his way.
“Larry!” he shouted.
“Please, Sai!”
Then his eyes seemed to focus on me. “There you are,” he said.
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
He sagged against the bed. “I’ve missed you so much, Larry.”
“It’s Bell, Sai,” I told him. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Promise you’ll stay, Larry.”
My stomach fell. He had no idea who I was.
“Promise me,” he said.
“I’ll stay,” I said. “Now go to sleep.”
I watched his chest rise and fall with each slow breath.
* * *
The next morning, I stared at my breakfast. I wasn’t hungry; I was too shaken by what had happened with Sai.
“He didn’t know you at all?” Flossy asked.
“It was weird. He thought I was someone named Larry.”
“Maybe it was the fever,” she said, picking up her spoon.
Breakfast was basic: algae porridge. It was bland but filling. Meals were something to be eaten in a hurry now, not lingered over. I missed Salty Bill’s cooking. Now I knew why he had been the first person Sai recruited: tasty food definitely helped morale. And our morale needed all the help it could get. Flossy had dark circles under her eyes. Albie was wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday. Trey sagged in his chair. Even Vera was too tired to be her usual snarky self.
“The toilet in the grown-ups’ wing won’t flush,” Vera said.
“When did that happen?” Flossy asked.
“This morning,” she said.
“I swear this place is held together with duct tape,” Flossy said.
She wasn’t wrong.
“I’ll add it to the list,” she said.
Albie suddenly burst into tears.
We were so startled that we just stared at him.
“Albie?” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”
But he continued to sob.
“Albie, take a breath,” Flossy said in a soothing voice. “Everything’s going to be fine—”
“Everything’s not going to be fine!” he cried. “We’re almost out of pain medicine!”
“We are?” she asked, her voice sharp.
He nodded, his eyes wet with tears.
Flossy swallowed.
Then Albie pulled his ball cap over his eyes and put his head in his arms and cried.
I wanted to cry, too.
* * *
I helped Flossy put Albie to bed. Vera was waiting for us in the hall when we left the bedroom.
“We have to do something!” she hissed.
“I’m doing everything I can,” Flossy protested.
“The grown-ups aren’t getting better. We need to send a message to Earth Command! Tell them we need help! We can’t handle this anymore! We’re kids!”
Flossy brightened. “That’s a good idea.”
Vera threw up her hands in frustration. “Of course it’s a good idea! I swear I’m the only person on this entire planet with any sense!”
Flossy frowned. “I don’t know Sai’s log-in password.”
“It’s taped on a piece of paper under the digi-slate,” I told her.
Vera looked impressed. “Why, you little snoop!”
I blushed. I didn’t snoop; I just noticed things.
“Come on,” Vera told me. “I’ll send the transmission.”
She and I went up to the COR. When she picked up the digi-slate, his log-in was there, scribbled on a piece of paper. It said:
My_Larry
Who was this Larry? Was this the same Larry Sai was talking to during his fever?
I helped her log in. As she wrote the message to Command, I looked outside. The storm was still going on, the sky that strange hazy color.
“Done,” Vera said, standing up. “I just sent it. I signed Sai’s name so they won’t think it’s a prank.”
Years ago, the older kids had used Sai’s password and sent a message with fart jokes to Earth Command. They hadn’t been amused. I didn’t think Earth Command had a sense of humor.
“How long until we hear back from them?” I asked.
“It won’t take long to reach Earth, but they’ll take hours to figure out what to say. No sense waiting.”
“Okay,” I said, staring at the monitor. “I’ll be down in a minute to do the dishes.” They’d been piling up.
She nodded and left the room.
Then I sat and logged in to Sai’s account. I scrolled through Sai’s messages with Earth Command. Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. He worried about everything—from Trey’s pimples to the strength of the outside coating of the COR. He ended almost every message with the same phrase: Please advise.
Command always responded the same way: we’ll send whatever you need on the next supply ship. At first, it struck me as a little cold, but then I realized it was all they could do. They were too far away to actually help. Like the sun in my bedroom, it was all an illusion. The truth was that we were on our own.
And we always had been.
DATE: 8.12.2091
FROM: US Terrestrial Command
TO: CDR Dexter
MESSAGE: Re: Situation Report
We are in receipt of your situation report regarding the current medical status of the adult mission crew memb
ers. After consulting with our physicians, we believe they are suffering from the Yermo virus. It originated in mice in Yermo, New California, over two decades ago and spread to humans. The children must have been exposed to it on Earth, which is why they have not fallen ill.
All rodents should be exterminated, as they are disease vectors. In addition, we are dispatching antiviral medication on an expedited supply ship. The children should be treated with the antiviral medication as well, since they may not have full immunity. Yermo virus is fatal without treatment. Due to the launch window, it will reach you in approximately eight months.
Evelyn Morris, COMMANDER
Mars Space Command
United States
We gathered in the dim light of the COR to stare at the message from Command.
“Eight months?” Albie whispered.
“I figured as much,” Flossy said. “We’re already past the good launch window.”
“What does ‘exterminate’ mean?” I asked.
“It means ‘kill,’ ” Vera snapped. “Don’t you know anything?”
“They want us to kill Muffin?” I asked, horrified.
Vera bit the inside of her cheek and nodded.
This was so wrong! Someone needed to speak up for Muffin! She needed an attorney to plead her case!
“But she’s in the habitat now,” I said. “She can’t get out! She won’t hurt anybody!”
“Muffin’s carrying the virus,” Flossy said. “It’s too dangerous for the grown-ups. And us.”
“Do you think this is why Phinneus died? From this mouse virus?” Trey asked.
“Maybe. He was doing fine before. The habitat was in the algae farm, too,” Albie said.
“Can’t we just put Muffin somewhere out of the way? It’s not her fault!” I pleaded.
Flossy shook her head slowly.
I thought of Muffin. Her sweet eyes. Her twitchy whiskers.
“Can we at least say good-bye?” I whispered.
Flossy nodded.
* * *
We said good-bye to our mouse.
I gave Muffin one of Phinneus’s peanut-butter mouse treats. She nibbled it. I think Muffin knew we loved her. At least, I hope she did.
We decided the kindest thing was to just put Muffin in her habitat on the surface of Mars. So Flossy put on her environmental suit and carried the habitat outside. When she returned, her arms were empty.
It was over.
* * *
Albie had made one of my favorite meals—Earth flour waffles with syrup. But no one was hungry. Who could possibly eat after something like this?
I couldn’t stop myself from asking. Because I had to know.
“Was it bad?” I whispered. “I mean, do you think it hurt her?”
Flossy put her arm around my shoulder. “She just fell asleep. That was it. She didn’t feel a thing.”
Trey stared at the table; he seemed paralyzed.
But Vera was angry. At the situation. At the universe. At Earth Command.
“Eight months to get a supply ship here!” she ranted. She was so agitated that I swear her bangs were angry, too. “How’s that going to help us?”
“It’s the normal response,” I said quietly.
She whirled on me. “What?”
“I read through Sai’s messages to Command,” I told her. “It’s not their fault. They’re too far away to help us.”
“Then we have to save ourselves!” Vera said. “Or we’re going to be exterminated! Someone needs to go to another settlement and get help. Finland’s the closest.”
“But we’re not allowed to—” Albie began to say.
Vera cut him off with a furious scowl. “Don’t even!”
“We can’t take the Yellow Submarine. Its battery is drained already,” Trey said.
“Then take the train,” Vera said.
“I guess we don’t have much of a choice,” Flossy said. “I’ll go get ready.”
“No-no-no-no-no!” Albie shouted, holding his hands out. “You can’t go!”
“Why not?” Flossy asked.
“Because you’re the only one who knows how to keep this place running!”
“Hey—” Vera started to stay.
“You don’t understand! Flossy can’t leave!” Albie shouted. He was losing it. Maybe the lack of sleep had finally caught up to him. “I don’t want to be in charge! It’s too much!”
Flossy looked around at us.
“I’ll go,” Trey volunteered.
“Great! Good idea! It’s settled, then!” Albie said.
Under the table, I saw Trey’s leg bouncing furiously, and I knew what it meant because I knew Trey. He was nervous—scared, even. Who wouldn’t be?
“I’ll go with you,” I blurted out.
He turned to me. “You will?”
“Do not go outside without a buddy,” I said. “It’s a rule, right?”
Trey’s eyes flashed with something—relief?—and he grinned.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a rule.”
Trey and I stood in the train. I was holding a glow stick so we could see. At any other time, getting to ride Percy would have been exciting—an adventure. But all I felt was worried and scared. Worried about the grown-ups. And scared for Trey and me. Would these Finnish people help us, or would they chase us with weapons, like the French people had? I was also anxious about basic things. Like, did the Finnish people even speak English? Flossy had coached us on what to say. She told us to keep it simple: tell them that we were from the American settlement and that we desperately needed help. She’d emphasized the “desperate” part.
Trey stared at the control panel and bit his lip.
“Okay, I think I remember Eliana saying to start the engine before releasing the brake. Does that sound right?”
“I think so,” I said.
“Here goes,” he said, and pushed the power button. The train rumbled to life.
“It worked!” Trey said, turning to me with a big grin on his face.
“Good job,” I told him.
And then we were moving.
The train rocked as it trundled along the track. Trey drove while I sat on one of the benches behind him, remembering. We’d spent so much time talking about Percy, about where we would go if we ever got to drive the train ourselves. He’d always wanted to go to the Russian settlement, and I’d always wanted to go where he went.
Perhaps twenty minutes had passed when I saw a bright light. It was illuminating a platform, and there was a blue-and-white flag hanging above a door. Trey pumped the brakes, pulling alongside the platform. The train slowed, finally jerking to a stop.
Neither of us moved to leave.
“Do you think the Finnish people will be nicer than the French?” I asked.
“I hope so,” Trey said. “Come on.”
We stepped onto the platform and walked up to the door. Trey knocked, but no one answered.
“Maybe they can’t hear us?” he said.
“Should we just walk in?”
“Don’t have much of a choice,” he said, and tugged on the door, sliding it open. It was dark ahead, so Trey clicked on a glow stick. As we walked in, the door slid closed with a heavy thud.
Inside, it was cold and the air smelled different—a woodsy Earth scent.
We continued on until we reached a room. Trey found the light switch and clicked it on.
“Whoa,” I whispered.
Everywhere I looked, there was color. The walls were painted bright yellow and blue with crazy geometric designs. The couch cushions were red and purple. There was a fluffy orange rug. It was like someone had melted crayons and thrown them all around the room.
Then there was the odd table. It was large and rectangular. Strung vertica
lly across the middle of it was a net. Two oddly shaped plates lay on the table. They had handles.
Where were the chairs? Did they eat standing up? Was it some Finnish thing?
“Hello!” Trey called in a loud voice. “We’re from the American territory, and we need help!”
Everything was still and quiet.
“Anyone here?” he called.
But no one answered. It was unsettling.
“Where is everyone?” I whispered.
Trey looked equally disturbed. “I don’t know. I guess we should look around.”
“Let’s stick together,” I said.
“Good idea,” he agreed quickly.
* * *
We walked down the silent corridors, opening doors and peeking in rooms. But it soon became clear why no one had greeted us: there was no one here.
The settlement had been abandoned.
“This is spooky,” I said.
“Yeah,” Trey agreed.
I felt like a detective in a digi-reel trying to figure out what had happened. Where had they gone? The inhabitants had left clues in the form of neatly made beds and folded clothes. Everything seemed tidy and organized, as if they hadn’t left in a hurry.
The kitchen was bigger than ours and gleaming white. There were notes posted to the walls in a language I couldn’t read. It definitely wasn’t French. One of them read Puhdista astiat!
The storage units had some foods I didn’t recognize: a strange-smelling dark brown bread and a jar of small black candies. I popped one into my mouth. And promptly spit it out. It didn’t taste like candy: it was salty.
But a delicious scent lingered in the air, one I did recognize.
“Do you smell that?” I asked Trey.
“What?”
“Chocolate cake!” I told him. “Someone baked a cake recently.”
We opened food storage units, looking for the cake, but there was none in sight. However, we found something far more interesting: a bowl of white oval objects.
The Lion of Mars Page 10