The Moon Dwellers

I grin. I know Roc will be all right as long as he keeps making jokes. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a few for you this evening if you don’t mind?”

“As long as it involves knocking a guard or two on the head and getting the hell out of here, I’m game.” I’ve never heard Roc say anything that violent before and for some reason I find it really fu

“If you take six, I’ll take the other six,” I say.

“How ’bout I take three and you take nine,” Roc counters.

“Seven and five—that’s my final offer.”

“Deal,” Roc says.

We should probably take the time more seriously, try to come up with a real plan, but I think the little bit of joking helps more than anything else would.

We don’t knock any guards on the head tonight. We are just too tired. Plus, they keep two watchmen awake at all times, who are charged with guarding us and the camp at the same time.

Despite not having a pillow or blanket for the second night in a row, I sleep like a dead man, nestling my head in the crook between my forearm and bicep.

When I awake, the pain in my head is gone. I struggle to a seated position and look around. Roc smirks at me. “How’s your head?” he says.

“Never felt better,” I say honestly.

“Mine, too. I think there was some kind of medicine in the drink they gave us last night.”

“Probably a slow-acting poison that will kill us in a few days.”

“Probably,” Roc says.

One of the guards is watching our exchange with interest. He is a stocky guy with a shiny bald head and graying beard. He says, “My daughter’s in love with you.”

Roc says, “Me?”

I laugh.

Baldy says, “No, you,”—motioning to me—“the one with the good head of hair and pretty-boy smile. She’s got a poster of you up in her bedroom. Cost me a whole week’s pay. She will never forgive me if I don’t get an autograph when I have the chance.”

I’ve had some strange requests in my life, but this one takes the cake (if we had any cake, that is). The whole world is exploding, we are captured by a gang of misfits, and one of my captors wants an autograph?

Of course, I give him one. It’s not like I have a choice. I sign his canteen and he even lets me have a drink from it in exchange. “Thanks. Might be worth somethin’ someday,” he says.

No one else speaks to us this morning. But they do let us walk together this time. I guess they are feeling more comfortable that we aren’t going to try anything, probably because they can tell we are getting weaker from the lack of food and water.

Big mistake.

It’s another grueling march, although it’s broken up when we stop for a break upon reaching the hub, a huge cavern that was carved out decades ago. Four gaping tu

When no one is looking, I silently draw Roc’s attention with a quick flick of one of my fingers. Right away I can see the fear in his eyes. He is right to be scared: the next few minutes could kill us.

I wait patiently for the perfect moment to launch the plan I have in my head. Half the men have wandered off and are doing a bit of sightseeing, checking out the multitude of intricate carvings etched by travelers into the rock walls. They are spread out, which is bad, but no one is covering the entrance to the tu

Four of the others, including the leader with the deep voice, are engaged in a heated discussion about Tri-Realm politics. That leaves two guys who are sort of paying attention to us, although more and more they are distracted by their friends—I can see their eyes flicking back and forth between us and them.

One of them turns his back to add a comment to the conversation.

Only one guard now.

His eyes are on me, but it’s a blank stare, like he is looking without really seeing. I can tell his mind is on the conversation behind him. I rise silently, trusting it will take a few moments for his brain to register what his eyes are seeing. Before he knows what hit him, I…well, I hit him. Club him over the head with my tied-together fists. I hit him hard enough that he won’t be getting up anytime soon. He doesn’t cry out and the others are too distracted to notice.

There’s a knife hanging from his belt and I manage to extract it by the hilt, the blade naturally gravitating toward my wrist ropes. I caress the blade back and forth, keeping one eye on the group of debaters. I saw through one rope and it falls away. I pull my wrists apart sharply, separating the weakened strands of rope.

The knife slips from my fingers.

I am in a time warp, where seconds tick by like hours. I can see every turn of the knife as it flips end over end to the ground, moving in slow motion. It clatters loudly on the stone floor.

For a second everyone is confused, so I take advantage of the situation, grabbing the guard’s gun—which is conveniently located on the ground between his feet. I point it in the general direction of the cluster of debaters.

I pull the trigger.

The automatic spray of bullets fires wildly above the men, but it has the desired effect. Some drop flat on their stomachs, while others take off ru

Luckily, as perfect as their aim was when they rescued us from Rivet’s men, their aim is equally off the mark this time, probably a result of the frantic nature of the shots coupled with my erratic movement away from them. Plus, I’m firing haphazard bursts of bullets over my shoulder, which surely distracts them. The closest shot is an arrow that catches a loose bit of my tunic, tearing off a tatter of cloth.

A few more bullets rip bits of rock from the ground at my sides, but nothing gets close enough to worry me. I charge into the tu

I loop the gun strap over my shoulder to free up my hands and help Roc sling the pack around his neck. I tuck my sword into its scabbard and use Roc’s sword to cut his hands free. I am wasting too much time, but it will be easier with neither of us bound. I’m not embarrassed to say that I grab Roc’s hand at this point to ensure we can stay together.

Although I was quite observant as we approached the hub—looking for side passages, dangerous obstacles, etc.—I am still worried that at any moment we might slam directly into a rock wall or boulder, ending our smooth escape and breaking our sun dweller noses.

I count the strides as we run, trying to estimate where the first side tu

I release his hands and feel along the wall, moving more quickly now that I have something to guide me. We hear a cry from behind, as one of our pursuers enters the tu