The Lion of Mars

by Jennifer L. Holm

“What are those?” Trey asked.

  “I think they’re eggs!” I told him. “From Earth chickens.”

  His eyes widened. “There’s an Earth chicken on Mars?”

  And we made another discovery: kids lived in this settlement. Or had lived here. There were toys. Stuffed animals and child-sized shoes. One kid’s bedroom was cat-themed. Posters and drawings of cats were taped to the wall. Even the bedspread had a big grinning orange cat on it, talking about eating something called lasagna. This kid was obsessed with cats. I kind of wanted to meet this person.

  After we’d checked all the rooms underground, we climbed upstairs to their communications and observations room. It was empty as well.

  There was no sign of the people who lived here.

  “It’s like they just vanished,” Trey said, shaking his head.

  A terrible thought occurred to me.

  “Do you think the aliens from the crashed ship got them?” I asked. “Because I think I might have seen one in the tunnel a while back.”

  “You saw what?” he asked.

  I told him about the green eyes I’d seen when I was on dust duty.

  He turned pale and looked around. “I mean, if the aliens ate them, wouldn’t there be blood?”

  “Maybe they abducted them?”

  Trey swallowed. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and started walking.

  “Are we going home?” I asked, catching up with him.

  “No.” He looked back at me. “We’re going to the next settlement.”

  * * *

  As the train rumbled through the dark tunnel, I couldn’t stop thinking about the former inhabitants. What had happened to them? Where had they gone?

  “Do you think they got the virus, too?” I asked Trey.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”

  “Which settlement is the next closest?” I asked.

  “Russia or France, I think,” he said, sounding frustrated. “I should have paid attention when Eliana lectured us.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  The light in the train flickered.

  “What—” Trey started to say.

  Then everything went dark. The train slowed until, finally, it stopped.

  “What happened?” I asked Trey.

  “I don’t know!” I couldn’t see him, but he sounded frantic. “I didn’t do anything!”

  We sat in the dark.

  “What do we do?” I asked him.

  “How do I know?”

  I would’ve liked to hear some reassuring words right about now. Trey was no Albie—that was for sure.

  “Do you have any glow sticks?” he asked me.

  I handed one over, and a moment later, soft green light filled the dark train.

  “Come here and hold it up so I can see the controls,” Trey ordered.

  I watched as Trey hit the power button again and again. But nothing happened.

  “We’ve totally lost power,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Oh no,” Trey said with a groan. “I think I know what’s going on.”

  “What?”

  “Eliana said she needed all the solar batteries she could get her hands on because of the storm. I think she took some off this train.”

  “And the one we have has run out of power?” I asked slowly.

  His face was a sickly shade of green from the light. “Yeah.”

  Aw, dust it.

  We were stuck.

  I couldn’t believe it. We were trapped in a vehicle.

  Again.

  At least I hadn’t broken anything this time. But I did feel Vera’s pain because I really needed to go to the bathroom. I should have gone in the Finnish settlement when I’d had a chance.

  We discovered that Trey was right about the batteries: only one was connected, and it was drained. Once we realized we weren’t going anywhere, we scrounged around the train for supplies. There were no emergency kits like in the rover. In fact, there was nothing.

  “How long do you think we’ll have to wait before someone finds us?” I asked Trey.

  “We’re not waiting. We’re getting out of here!” He sounded so certain, almost like Albie. “We can walk to the next settlement. It’s gotta be better than being stuck here in the dark.”

  It was hard to argue with that.

  He slid open the train door. But the gap between the tunnel wall and the door was maybe six centimeters.

  There was no way we could squeeze our bodies out.

  “I don’t believe this,” Trey muttered.

  “Let’s just go out the back of the train,” I said.

  Except when we tried to open the door, it didn’t budge.

  “I think the latch is on the outside,” Trey said. “Something about cargo falling out without it.”

  I thought of digi-reels I’d watched. People were always getting stuck in something called elevators. They would climb out through the roof.

  “What about through the roof?” I suggested.

  Most of the train was empty cargo space, but there were two low benches. Trey climbed on one and reached for the ceiling, but he was too short.

  “Hold me up on your shoulders,” I said.

  But even with me sitting on Trey’s shoulders, I couldn’t reach the roof.

  “There’s always the front window?” I said. “We just need to break it and climb out that way.”

  “Worth a try,” he said.

  We searched for something that would break the window, only to find a plastic bucket. We took turns throwing it at the window, but it just bounced off. The window was too thick.

  I looked at Trey. He’d gotten a lot bigger than me in the past two years. Meems said it was a growth spurt.

  “Do you think you could kick the window in?” I asked Trey. “Like how Albie knocked open the door?”

  He scowled at me. “Of course I can. Get out of the way.”

  I moved aside, then watched as he took a running leap at the window. He kicked out, like on one of the digi-reels with ninjas.

  He yelped in pain. The window didn’t budge.

  Trey hopped around on one foot, holding the other.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  “No! I am not okay!” he shouted. “That’s the last time I listen to your dumb ideas!”

  “It wasn’t a dumb idea!”

  “Yes, it was! You drive me nuts!”

  “You drive me nuts, too!”

  Trey slid to the floor, cradling his hurt foot. I sat across from him.

  We sat in the dark, the green glow stick our only source of light.

  “Do you think you broke it?” I asked him.

  “No,” he muttered.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  His lips thinned. “It’s okay.”

  We sat with the glow stick between us. It was so quiet down here. It made me wonder.

  “You know the map?” I asked him.

  He nodded.

  “Why did we draw our Mars settlement aboveground?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  I tried to explain. “It’s dangerous to live up there because of the radiation and everything, right? So why did we plan our whole settlement on the surface?”

  He looked thoughtful. “I think maybe because we wanted to be able to see things. Like in Earth cities. You can see vehicles and buildings. There’s something nice about that.”

  “Yeah, that must be it,” I agreed.

  We stared at the glow stick.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said.

  “Me too,” he said.

  “What should we use?”

  “The bucket, I guess.”

  So that’s what we did.
/>   * * *

  Two hours later—or was it three?—we were still sitting in the train. I was exhausted, and I hadn’t done anything. Worry makes you tired.

  My brain wouldn’t stop spinning. What had happened to the people from the Finnish settlement? Especially the kid with the cat-decorated room. Speaking of animals, where was the Earth chicken that laid the eggs in the kitchen? That made me think about the chocolate cake, and cake in general, especially carrot cake. Which reminded me of Phinneus and made me feel sad. And then I started wondering when someone at the settlement would realize what had happened to us.

  As the light from the glow stick faded, my thoughts turned as dark as the inside of the train. And I got scared. Was this how Lissa felt as she waited in the rover? Had she been hopeful at first? Then as the hours ticked by, did she slowly realize that no one was coming? That they’d left her behind? Forgotten all about her?

  I shivered. I missed my cozy quilt.

  “What if no one finds us?” I asked suddenly.

  Trey didn’t say anything, and panic raced up my spine.

  “No one even knows we’re stuck here!” I said, and my chest felt tighter and tighter.

  He looked at me.

  “Don’t you get it? No one’s coming to help us! No one—”

  Trey interrupted me. “Three-word story, Bell.”

  I was so startled, the words got stuck in my throat.

  “What?” I finally choked out.

  “I’ll go first,” he said, as if everything was just fine. “Once upon a…”

  I shook my head.

  “Come on, Bell, your turn,” he insisted. “Once upon a…”

  I blew out a breath. Fine. “…time, we were…”

  “…stuck in a…,” Trey said.

  “…train in a…,” I said.

  “…tunnel, and I…,” Trey said.

  “…was totally bored,” I said.

  “So I farted!” he said.

  I burst out laughing. He still had it.

  We still had it.

  “Again?” I asked him.

  He gave a weak smile. “Only if I get to go first.”

  * * *

  We played round after round after round of three-word story. It almost made me forget we were stuck in the train.

  Then the glow stick winked out, and we were in the dark.

  “I’ll open another one,” I said, digging in my pocket.

  “Don’t!” Trey said. “There’s only two glow sticks left. We should keep them for emergencies.”

  “So we just sit here in the dark?”

  “Why don’t we take a nap?” Trey suggested. “It’ll help pass the time.”

  I lay down on one of the benches, and Trey took the other. It was like we were back to sharing a room. Except in a cold, dark tunnel.

  “Why did you move rooms?” I asked Trey. “What did I do?”

  Trey sighed. “You didn’t do anything. I just wanted Sai to take me on as his apprentice.”

  I was so confused. “But what does that have to do with switching rooms?”

  “You’re the youngest, and I thought maybe you were holding me back, I guess. That Sai saw me as young, like you. I thought if I changed rooms, he’d realize I am older.”

  I couldn’t see his face, but I heard it in his voice. He sounded almost apologetic.

  “Anyway,” he said with a bitter laugh, “being in charge isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?”

  We lay there in the dark.

  “You know what?” I said. “If I had to be stuck in this train, I’m glad I’m stuck with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Have you heard Albie snore?”

  We both laughed.

  * * *

  Finally, I drifted off to sleep.

  I dreamt I was back home and everything was fine. I was in the algae farm with Phinneus. He was wearing his blue sweater.

  “Phinneus!” I said. “I missed you so much!”

  “I’ve been here the whole time,” Phinneus said, his eyes crinkling.

  “But you haven’t,” I told him. “You—you—were—”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.

  “I want to show you what I’ve been growing,” he said, and pointed to a pot of Earth soil.

  A tall bright-yellow flower with a big brown center was growing in it.

  “It’s a sunflower,” he said. “I grew them in my garden in New California.”

  “It’s so big,” I said.

  “You’ll be taller than it soon. You’ve grown so much,” he said.

  Something cold whipped through the algae farm.

  “Here,” Phinneus said, taking off his sweater and handing it to me. “I think you’ll need this.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll keep you warm,” he said. “The wind’s picking up.”

  “The wind?”

  He tilted his head. “Can’t you feel it? Wake up, Bell.”

  I blinked my eyes open. Everything was dark. I thought maybe I was back home, but then I remembered the train. The lack of snoring gave it away. Also, it was freezing cold. I shivered as icy air blew against my cheek.

  Wind?

  It was coming from somewhere near my head.

  I pulled one of the glow sticks from my pocket, snapped it on, and scrambled down to the floor. There was a latch on the side of the bench. I pulled it and discovered the source of the cold air: a small panel opened onto the track.

  “Trey!” I shouted. “Trey!”

  He opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, looking confused. “What—what are you doing? I thought I told you not to use the glow stick!”

  “I found a way out!”

  Trey scrambled to his feet. “What? Where?”

  “Right here! Under the bench!”

  He knelt and peered through the open panel. His face filled with excitement.

  “Move,” he told me, and pushed me out of his way. Then he stuck his head through it and started to wedge his way in. But he didn’t get far.

  “Ugh!” he shouted, and pulled back out with a huff. “I can’t fit through the space! I’m too big!”

  I looked at him.

  “But I’m not,” I said.

  In digi-reels, before one person has to go on a dangerous mission, there’s usually a tearful scene. Another person tells them to be careful and never give up hope.

  Instead of a touching farewell, Trey and I had a fight over glow sticks.

  “Take them both!” he insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

  But I knew him better. After all, I had shared a room with him for most of my life. We’d always had a night-light because neither of us liked total darkness.

  “I just need one,” I said, handing the unlit glow stick back to him. “You can have the other.”

  “Fine,” he huffed.

  Then I crouched down by the hatch, hesitating. I couldn’t seem to make my body move. I was scared.

  “I would go instead of you if I could,” Trey said.

  “I know,” I said, and took a deep breath. “All right, here goes.”

  I tossed the lit glow stick onto the track and carefully squeezed through the hatch onto the ground. A moment later, the unused glow stick plopped down next to me.

  “Hey!” I shouted, waving it. “Take it back.”

  “No way,” Trey said. “You need it more than me.”

  “But you’ll be sitting in the dark!” I said.

  “And you’ll be walking in the dark.” He barked a laugh. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  I clutched the glow sticks, fear dancing up my back. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I confessed.

  “Just pretend the tunnel is the corridor outs
ide our bedroom, and it won’t be scary,” Trey said. “Be brave, Bell-Bell!”

  And just like that, something was right again. Even though our world was falling apart, Trey was still my best friend. He would literally sit in the dark for me.

  But instead of his doing everything for me, like when I was little, it was my turn to do something for him. I had to be our voice now and get help.

  I crawled out until I was standing in front of the train, the endless black tunnel before me. I turned and waved at Trey. I couldn’t see him. But I knew he waved back.

  Then I started walking.

  * * *

  The first glow stick didn’t last long. It had been fading when I’d set off. So I clicked open the last one and continued on.

  But being somewhere so dark was completely unnerving. To stop focusing on the darkness, I made up a little game. I began reciting all the animal names I remembered from my book.

  Koala.

  Whale.

  Moray eel.

  Panda.

  Snake.

  Something unseen slithered against my foot. I yelped. A snake? When I looked down, all I saw was the track. I started walking again.

  Hedgehog.

  Flamingo.

  Bat.

  I heard a rustle of wings. Didn’t bats hang on ceilings? I held the glow stick up and squinted at the ceiling, but I didn’t see anything. I shook my head. Maybe I was just hungry? I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that was a long time ago.

  Hummingbird.

  Orangutan.

  Squirrel.

  Crocodile.

  Teeth. Big teeth…that like to eat children and…

  Maybe this wasn’t such a fun game after all.

  My imagination was way too realistic.

  * * *

  It turned out all those horror digi-reels got it wrong. The scariest thing in the world wasn’t a monster or an alien chasing you. It wasn’t killer slime mold or zombie plague.

  It was being alone.

  My whole life, I’d had people around me. The settlement was small and crowded, and someone was always in your space. Meems joked that she couldn’t burp without someone hearing her. But I would have given just about anything to hear a burp now. I even missed the sound of Albie snoring. Honestly, I would have been happy to talk to an alien. At least then I wouldn’t be alone. Maybe it would even play three-word story with me.