Under (Luna's Story Book 2)

by Diana Knightley

  Beckett pressed his thumb to his lips, “Yes, Sarah is probably right. Thank you though. I appreciate it.”

  “We have to come up with a plan, she can’t stay there. We need an endgame.”

  “Yeah, you’re — what was it like? What was the vibe? It’s like she’s been arrested, but for what? I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen photos of the camps and they seem awful, but I think they’re just a way station. . .”

  Beckett nodded. “Just temporary, that’s what I think too.” He ran his hand up and down on his scalp. “We have to check every day until they’re ready to move her. Where do they move them?”

  Dan said, “I’ve been asking about that. It’s supposed to be a settlement of some kind, but no one knows where or when. The idea sounded so planned when I heard about it on the news, but now that I’m investigating, no one seems to understand the actual plan.”

  Beckett whistled. “This sucks — did you get our things off the ship?”

  “Yes, they’re at our place.”

  “Then you’ve got my keys, mind getting my motorcycle? You can park it in long term parking, I have money. It looks like I’ll be here for a while.”

  Dan grinned, “Awesome! Sarah won’t let me ride motorcycles, but as a favor, how can she refuse?”

  Beckett jokingly groaned, “You know how to drive her, right? Promise you won’t hurt her?”

  “Promise.”

  “Look man, I appreciate all of this. I don’t know what I would do without your help.”

  “’Course you do, and of course I am, because you’re dating my favorite little sister. So I have to. Even though you’re an Army guy and she’s dating you against my years and years of brotherly advice.”

  Beckett chuckled, “You could tell her, but Luna just wouldn’t listen.”

  Dan shook his head slowly, “I kept saying, ‘Sis, Army battles against the water, Navy floats on top of the water, which one you want to spend your life with?’ But would she listen?”

  “She did not. I’m glad she didn’t.” Beckett sighed. “Navy has its own battles though.”

  “True, but I prefer those to battling man any day.”

  “I’ve been lucky so far, sandbags.”

  Dan nodded sadly. “Yes, you’ve had an epic lucky streak so far, the Outpost didn’t collapse, you found Luna twice, maybe it will get you out of heading East to the front.”

  “Maybe—but I can’t see how. How’s Jeffrey doing?”

  “He’s booking out tomorrow. Three years. We have a going away dinner tonight but it won’t be very festive. Not like on the ship. Man, I want to go back out.”

  They sat quiet for a second and Dan added, “Dr Mags said she would try to get in to see her tomorrow. Maybe as a doctor she can—”

  “Yeah, that would be really good. And tell Jeffrey bye from me, I look forward to seeing him again.”

  “I will man. Not in the East though, here in Heighton Port or onboard the H2OPE.”

  “Yeah.” Beckett stared off into space for a second. “Do you think she’ll hate me for this? I made her come to shore. I told her it would be okay.”

  “She forgave you for the dart in her ass, so probably.”

  Beckett nodded and stood to go back to his cell. This sucked. He was asking too much of people, but he still needed more. It had been days. He had involved all these people and still, all he knew was Luna was alive. Nothing more.

  It was so frustrating that he needed to go sit in his cell on a cold hard bench and press his hands to his eyes.

  Chapter 39

  Another day passed when nothing happened. Beckett asked every guard who walked by, “When will I get a lawyer?”

  He was either cursed at or ignored. He was in a holding cell, but holding for what?

  Finally, on the third day, during visiting hours, it wasn’t Dan sitting at the table, it was Aunt Chickadee and her lawyer Roscoe. A wave of relief washed over Beckett.

  Chickadee jumped from her chair, and rushed Beckett, hugging, rocking, and holding him tight in her soft fluffiness, as if she’d never let him go. Her green Mohawk was combed down, her shirt printed with big bright flowers, her ears sported five rings each, and her arms were sleeved with tattoos.

  Chickadee put her hands up on his cheeks. “Beckie, your face, did they do that to your face?”

  He nodded.

  “You have blood all over your shirt, poor boy.”

  Roscoe stuck out his hand to shake Beckett’s, he asked, “Were you resisting?”

  “They beat me before they were arresting me.”

  Roscoe said, “Now see, that there is where they lose their high ground.”

  Chickadee asked, “Are they feeding you?”

  Beckett said, “Enough.”

  “Well, we aren’t allowed to be here for long, so Roscoe better get to it.” She plopped down to her chair, chins wiggling. Beckett was psyched that Roscoe was there. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up, had resigned himself to whoever the city would offer him as a lawyer, but now — Roscoe was crazy smart. Never-lost-a-case smart.

  The kind of smart that could get Beckett out of here. He hoped.

  Plus Roscoe grew up with Chickadee and was one of her biggest fans, so she called him “My Lawyer” because he would do whatever she wanted, whenever she asked. Everything except put on a suit. He was a jeans guy. Often saying, “That way when I argue my case brilliantly they never see me coming.”

  Roscoe sat down slowly, leaned back in his chair, and leveled his gaze, “Chickadee didn’t relay a lot of the details. You’ve deserted your post?”

  Beckett’s jaw clenched. “Yes, I guess that’s what it looks like — I was allowed a weekend to go home, instead I went to search for a lost friend. I was supposed to report back on the twenty-third. But I was still on board a ship, so um, I had extenuating circumstances.”

  Roscoe nodded slowly, peering at Beckett long after Beckett stopped speaking. He pulled a stack of papers up and flipped through them. “It looks like you’ll be serving five more years, in the East.”

  “I can’t do five years. I was so close to done.” Beckett rubbed up and down on his face and up and around and through his now longer and scruffier hair. “Aargh.” He leaned back, then leaned forward again. “I volunteered to go to the Outpost, that was supposed to get me a choice of wherever I wanted to go. That was the deal. Also, I planned to report, as soon as I came into Heighton Port. Those fucking jerks arrested me before I had a chance.”

  Roscoe nodded slowly again and blinked a few times.

  Chickadee looked from Roscoe to Beckett and back to Roscoe. “You can handle this right? I mean, he didn’t hurt anyone, you’ve got this, right?”

  Roscoe took a moment to arrange his face into deeply confident sneer. “Oh, yes, we’ve got this.”

  Beckett asked, “We do?”

  Roscoe deposited the papers back into his briefcase and clicked his briefcase closed. “I don’t want to make it sound too easy. You’ll have some more time added, but I’m sure your battalion needs you. It will simply take some negotiating.”

  He rose. “You’ll have to be careful though, no more screwing up. This one is going to be on your permanent record.” He glanced around to see if he left anything on the table and added, “Yep. It will.”

  Beckett was so surprised at Roscoe’s assurances, that he hadn’t noticed their meeting was over. He had forgotten to mention Luna. “I also need your help for my friend — an, um, Nomad.

  Roscoe’s eyes narrowed. He sucked in his lips and made a popping noise and sat back down.

  Chickadee clapped her hands merrily, “Is this the girl you told me about? The one you went searching for?”

  Beckett nodded. “I found her — in the whole ocean — I found her.”

  Chickadee said, “That means something.”

  “I think so too. I was going to bring her home. She — she got detained when I was arrested.” Beckett ran his hands though his hair again
. “She’s at the camps, but Dan hasn’t been able to see her yet.”

  Roscoe raised his eyebrows. “Well now, that’s a bigger problem.”

  “How? She hasn’t done anything wrong. I get why I’m in jail, she was simply standing on a dock.”

  Roscoe and Chickadee exchanged a look. She explained, “The camps are overcrowded and way more complicated than anyone thought. In the beginning they were going to build settlements, but now with the water rising the political will just isn’t in settling the nomads anymore.”

  “Are you saying those people are sitting there in camps waiting for nothing?”

  “No one knows what to do with them.”

  Beckett dropped his hands to the table in front of him, palms up, jaw dropped, dismayed. “I sent people there. I told them to go to the camps. I read them an edict, assured them they’d be safe. . .”

  “They aren’t safe anymore—”

  “But they should let them go — give them back their paddleboards and let them go!”

  Chickadee said, “They should, dear, of course.”

  Roscoe folded his hands carefully and seemed to be choosing his words. “It’s not as simple as that when you have a tiny little brain, and the bureaucrats running the Nomadic Water People Policy have very small brains. I have heard it said that the government of the American Unified Mainland can’t possibly let the Nomads go because the Administration feels responsible for them. I have also heard it said that they no longer wish to feed them. So there you go.”

  Beckett looked at him incredulously. “Not feed them — I have to get Luna out of there. Can you help me?”

  Roscoe nodded slowly, not in agreement but as if to acknowledge hearing the question, and that he was mulling it over.

  He took so long that Beckett turned to Chickadee. “I love her. I want her to live with us. I promised her. She doesn’t have anyone — her whole family is gone, and she’s all alone. I promised her that I would give her a home.”

  Chickadee’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh Beckie, is she wonderful? I mean she must be if you love her so much, but is she amazing? Is she the punchline to your life’s joke?”

  Beckett nodded. “Definitely, someday, nothing feels very funny right now.”

  Chickadee clapped her hands on her thighs, “That’s all I need to hear. Roscoe, let’s go get the girl.” She acted like she was jumping up from her chair.

  Roscoe shook his head slowly, “Now Chickadee, it’s not going to be as easy as all that.” Chickadee rolled her eyes and slumped back down to her seat. He said, “She’s a Nomad. I’ll have to research precedence, this will require some studying.”

  Chickadee said, “Well, first, I’m going to march into the camps and demand her. As her Aunt Chickadee. I’m going to demand they release her to me.”

  Roscoe watched her speak, nodding slowly. “We can try that.” He stood with his briefcase.

  Chickadee said, “Beckie, what’s her name?”

  Beckett said, “Her real name is Luna Saturniidae. But Dan said she’s listed as Luna Stanford. And before you go crazy, no I didn’t get married without you, that’s so I can find her easily, get her released with less paperwork.”

  Chickadee laughed, “I would’ve killed you, that’s true. But also, see, she’s got our last name — me and Roscoe are just going to go get her.”

  Beckett blew out a big gust of air. “Chickadee, thank you.”

  “If you love her, she’s family, and it’s time for her to come home.”

  Chapter 40

  Luna had made some friends. Especially once the Waterfolk realized that her family name was Saturniidae. There had been whispering and sad long looks, then a meeting was called after which a family group, the Celastrinas, had taken her into their fold. Luna had never met them or even heard of them, which suddenly made the world seem really too, too big.

  They had a niece, Charm, who was a little older than Luna and was okay to talk to, but she supposed the real reason they adopted her was because they had a son, Springer, who was seventeen.

  They probably hoped Luna would be a good match.

  Springer was goofy and young and barely able to speak two words to her. Some of the time it was funny, but it was also terrifying, that this might be it. That Beckett might never come for her. That he might be gone and this, this pen, this family of strangers, this ankle deep mud, this simpering teen boy, might be her life from now on.

  She was sitting with Springer and Charm, in their matching cage clothes, discussing the dampness, the mud, and then they had segued into the bigger conversation — how long they had been there, when would they get to leave — then they circled back to the complaints, because that bigger conversation was too difficult, so completely out of their control, that it couldn’t be discussed for long without really freaking everyone out.

  Luna had been locked up there for three nights already. Three uncomfortable nights, with thin blankets on the ground. No one slept well, and these were Waterfolk, they were used to the light sleep of the ocean. But the deep ocean was a known. This was awful, the fearful sleep of the unknown.

  So far Luna’s days had been dry, but she read the sky, rain was eminent. As the wind rose, they moved to the far end under the tree cover. They wrapped in blankets and huddled. It was already very muddy there. The mud was starting to really piss her off.

  All they needed to do was break out of here and run for it, in the direction of the ocean. But they also needed their paddleboards and didn’t have a clue where they were stored. And not everyone could climb over the fence. But really who was Luna kidding that barbed wire made it dangerous for anyone to try.

  This was what Springer and Charm and Luna were discussing — how a human would get through barbed wire at the top of a tall fence, when a commotion happened. Some lady with a shock of green hair and colorfully floral shirt, was waddling down the slope from the administration offices to the pen, yelling about something and gesturing wildly. She was followed by a tall man jogging, his briefcase swinging as he tried to keep up.

  A few men left the huddle to meet her at the door, but then one rushed back, “She’s carrying on about a Luna, but insists the last name is Stanford, is she someone you know?”

  Luna dazedly said, “Oh! Maybe?”

  She walked across the pen to the door followed by Springer and Charm and the other curious Waterfolk who were willing to risk the wet because it had begun to sprinkle a bit.

  The woman panted, “Are you Luna dear — Luna Saturnidodod um, Stanford — or something?”

  Luna said, “Yes, that’s me?”

  “Oh thank heavens, we found you! Oh dear — I’m Aunt Chickadee, Beckie sent me.” She wiped her eyes on the hem of her t-shirt exposing a bunch of doughy mid-flesh. “We found you — oh, you’re such a beauty.” Aunt Chickadee hooked her fingers through the fence. “Come here for a second, dear.”

  It was odd to be so comfortably addressed by this complete stranger, not unlike waking up in that tent with Sky staring at her, but somehow Luna convinced her feet to move forward.

  Chickadee explained again, “Beckett sent us, Dear.”

  “Is he okay?’

  “Yes he’s fine, he’s in jail, but he’s fine. My lawyer, Roscoe,” she gestured toward the tall man standing beside her, “says he can get him out in a few days.”

  Luna looked at the ground. “Good.” It was good news. It just seemed very separate from her own ordeal — standing ankle deep in mud in the sprinkling rain, locked up, with no idea why.

  Chickadee asked, “Do you have food, dear? Do you have water?”

  A lump rose in Luna’s throat, “There’s food, but there’s a baby — a woman is breastfeeding and a child who’s sick —” The tears came, they spilled over and streamed down her face.

  Chickadee clutched the fence tighter. “Oh dear, dear, dear, dear, Roscoe are you hearing this?”

  Roscoe nodded slowly. He stepped back judging the length and width of the pen.

  Chicka
dee said, “You stay put dear, Aunt Chickadee is going to get you released, okay?”

  Luna nodded sniveling.

  Chickadee stalked up the hill to the building. “Roscoe, follow me!”

  Chapter 41

  A short time later Chickadee hustled back down the hill, with Roscoe again jogging just behind. She began talking loudly before she was within earshot, “. . . not go as expected — those people are absolute asses.”

  She grabbed the fence when she reached it. “They won’t release you dear, into my care, but don’t you worry—” She unlatched her belt, feeding the tail of it through the fence. “Don’t you worry one bit dear, Aunt Chickadee has this all under control.”

  Roscoe stood behind Chickadee with a bemused twitch at the edge of his lips.

  After Chickadee latched her belt through the chain link, she bellowed, “I am not leaving, not from this spot, not until — is it okay dear if I call you Luna Stanford?”

  Luna nodded, “It’s what I put on the paperwork.”

  “Good.” Chickadee raised her voice again. “Not until Luna Stanford and—” Chickadee counted heads for a moment, but gave up and yelled, “and everybody gets to leave. I will not leave.”

  She yelled louder, “And I have friends!”

  In a quieter voice she said, “You’ll of course begin filing forms or whatever it is you do, won’t you Roscoe?”

  His bemused look was growing. “As soon as I finish the paperwork for Beckett, I’ll begin this case, but in the meantime, you’ll be living here Chickadee?”

  She bellowed, “You heard me. I’m staying here, right here, until those asses let my Beckie’s Luna go home with me. I will not be moved.”

  She lowered her voice again. “Roscoe, I will need a chair.”

  She glanced around, “Also a longer chain. Tell Dillybear that we have a regular ol’ sit-in happening. I need her to load a truck with fruit and veggies and bring it, pronto.” She asked Luna, “Is there anything else you might need dear?”