The Moon Dwellers

“I think your love for that girl is so strong that it causes explosions,” he says playfully.

“Roc, no,” I say, but it is too late. The talker seems to enjoy clamping his mind around whatever topic is on the table.

“What girl?” he says, leaning forward.

I warn Roc off with my eyes. “Just a girl,” I say.

“A girlfriend?” he guesses.

“Yeah, sorta. Just a girlfriend,” I say, hoping that will end the conversation. But Roc isn’t ready to let it go. Good friend.

“Yeah, Tristy and his girlfriend just had their first date,” Roc says, smiling brightly. “They almost even spoke to each other this time.” I want to slug him, but I don’t think a spat of violence will win me any points with the moon dwellers.

“A moon dweller?” Chip asks, a gleam in his eyes.

I wait for Roc—who is suddenly feeling talkative—to answer, but instead he puts his palm out to indicate it is my turn. I wish there is a table I can kick him under.

“Yes, she’s a moon dweller,” I say.

“Well, why aren’t you with her? ’Specially at a time like this.”

It is a good question. I want to be with her, want to know she is okay. I don’t think the guards recaptured her, but I can’t be sure, as I was a bit busy dodging flaming rubble at the time.

“I don’t know where she is,” I say, dropping my head.

“I might be able to help with that,” Chip says. “I’m somewhat of an amateur private investigator. Where’d you last see her?”

I know I am approaching a dangerous level of truth, but I’ve told them so much already—hell, they know I am Tristan, the Tristan—so I decide to just go for it. I need help, and if they can provide it, then I have to accept the risks. “Okay, look. Here’s the thing…” I tell them nearly everything. The strange feelings I had for her the first time I saw her; our escape from the Sun Realm; how she was trying to escape from the Pen when the bombs starting blowing up all around us; and, finally, how she was gone when the smoke cleared, like a magician performing a famous disappearing act.

When I finish, I sit back and wait for a response. I’m not sure what to expect.

Everyone starts talking at once, asking questions, making comments. The young mother exclaims, “That’s so romantic!” while her husband says definitively, “You’ve got to go after her.” The older couple, who’ve previously been silent, speak in succession: “I bet they went north,” one says, while the other says, “No, south, she must’ve gone south!” Even the kids get involved. The little girl says, “Tristan, do you love her?” The boy is more interested in the action than the romance. “Were you scared when the guards pointed their guns at her?” he asks.

When the chatter dies down somewhat, I hear a voice from my right, from the door, which is now slightly ajar. The woman who invited us in is standing there—I didn’t even notice her arrival and have no idea how much she’s heard. “She’ll be laying low for a few days with her friends, until things die down. You might only have one chance to find her, because as soon as she makes a move, she’ll run as fast and as far as she can.” The woman sounds wise beyond her years, like she’s experienced everything that life has to offer. “What do you reckon, Chip? She’ll head for the northeastern suburbs most likely, at least at first, don’t you think?”

I realize that Chip is the only one who hasn’t yet reacted to my story, and I turn to him, hoping he’ll have a revelation, something that will give me some kind of direction.

“Yeah, northeastern suburbs because they extend the furthest from the commercial district, where most of the bombs were hittin’. She won’t stay in one place long, though, and eventually she’ll have to find a way out of the subchapter. Can’t use conventional means, as she don’t have travel approval, unless she can find a forger in a hurry, although I don’t know how she could pay for it. I reckon she’ll try one of the mining tu

The woman adds, “You’ll also want to find out more stuff about who she’s with, the other two escaped prisoners, because it might change what they do.”

I scan the room, looking each person in the eyes, and waiting for any more advice. When silence ensues, I say, “Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

Somehow I know they’ll keep my secrets. I don’t know why they will. I guess maybe they are just good people. Real good people. The kind you call friend; the kind you stand up for; the kind you fight for. I don’t know what is happening above me, but I vow in my heart to help these people, somehow, some way, some day. To do whatever it takes to give them a better life.

We leave, Roc and I. Explosions continue to rock the night around us, but they are less intense and less frequent. The streets are empty, everyone having taken shelter.

We run back to the Pen, where the fence is still destroyed, and the yard still strewn with guards’ bodies. No one is around. We stop at the point along the fence line where I last saw the girl. Consulting the map, we identify the best route to take out of the city.

“This way,” Roc says, taking the lead as navigator.

I follow him, hoping and praying that we are doing the right thing.

Chapter Eleven

Adele

Sometimes I wonder whether people are inherently good or inherently bad. I’d like to think good, or even neutral, like we can all make the choice for ourselves. But then you meet someone like the guy we are seeing on the telebox, and you think people are just plain bad.

After a quiet morning in the servants’ quarters at Tawni’s parents’ house, we move inside once we are sure it is safe. Although we don’t plan to linger much longer, we are careful to cover our tracks so no one knows we’ve been here. The longer it takes them to find our trail, the colder it will become and the safer we’ll be.

The whole morning I think about Elsey. She will be our first rescue, because she is closest and I know exactly where she is. It is all I can do to stop myself from ru

Tawni’s house is even more impressive than I’d imagined based on my glimpse in the dark. It is three stories with more than a dozen rooms. The floors are marble and swirled with illustrious blue and green patterns. Winding staircases rise majestically in at least three places, providing access to the upper floors. The entire place is spotless, a testament to the quality of the servants that work here.

We’ve gotten lucky; it is one of the servants’ two days off.

We turn on the telly, hoping to find out what is happening in subchapter 14. There are two major news stories being run over and over again. The headline story is about the bombing. We were all wrong about the culprits. I am shocked, to be honest.

While we’ve all been hating the Sun Realm—for its unfair policies and outrageous taxes—the Star Realm has been hating us. The whole time I’ve been thinking the star dwellers are like a younger sibling to us, different but on the same side—but they’ve taken a different approach. The video from Vice President Meriweather, the leader of the Star Realm, explains things.

He blames us for the oppression by the Sun Realm, says we let them go too far, that we set a precedent that forces the Star Realm to comply with unfair contractual terms. He says our leaders are spineless, gutless—which I tend to agree with—and that until we remove them from power and agree to join their rebellion, they’ll continue to bomb the living sheetrock out of us. Earlier, I assumed subchapter 14 was the first target, and it was, but it was only one of many first targets. Overnight a dozen subchapters were bombed, although none as heavily as ours.

Tawni and Cole are as shocked as I am. “If we kill each other, then where will we be?” Cole says, exasperated. He refuses to sit down while watching the broadcast, and now he is pacing, throwing his hands around as he rants.