The Sun Dwellers

Adele looks at us like we’re crazy. “We can just steal more stuff in subchapter four if we have to.” It seems she’s got an answer for everything.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with all this stealing,” Tawni says, reverting to her role as the moral conscience of the group.

“You are the one who picked the lock,” Roc points out.

Tawni blushes, her sparkly makeup looking even shinier over the red of her cheeks. “Okay,” she says. “I’m in.”

This time I lead the way through the streets, easily remembering the zigzagging path back to the garbage chute. As we near the chute, it’s clear that the shipping door is still open, either because more trucks have recently come through or because more are about to come through. I’m hoping it’s the latter.

Creeping along the building’s wall, I risk a glance around the corner, into the garage. Two men wearing thick black gloves are hauling bags of trash from a conveyer belt to a truck, tossing them into the back one by one. The truck bed is already half full.

“There’s one about to leave,” I whisper back to the others.

“That’s our ride,” Adele says, her green eyes fierce and sharp, even more so because of the black makeup.

“Move when I do, as close behind me as possible,” I say. “Tawni, you’d better carry your shoes.”

She nods and begins unclasping them, her hands deftly slipping them off. “Ready,” she says a moment later.

I sneak another peek into the garage. The truck is nearly full now, and the men are engaged in a conversation near the cab door, which is open. Their backs are to us.

Without checking that the others are paying attention, I steal into the garage, tiptoeing to prevent an errant footstep from betraying our presence. I hear nothing behind me, which either means they’re not following me or they’re being equally careful with their footing. My heart is pounding; if one of the guys turns, there’s nowhere to hide. But they don’t turn, and I manage to safely reach the still-open cargo hold, indulging in a quick glance back.

The others are right on top of me, their faces white and focused. I turn back to the truck, clamber inside, and screw up my face when the rotten stench of garbage hits my nostrils. Trying to breathe out of only my mouth, I reach back and help Tawni inside. Adele, Trevor, and Roc pull themselves up unassisted. We’re all in, but we’re far from safe. One of the guys will be back any minute to shut the gate.

“We’ve got to get behind the garbage,” Roc hisses.

Fun.

Luckily, the trash is in big canvas bags, but it still makes for an unsteady and constantly shifting climb to the top of the pile. A few of the bags have rips and tears in them, spilling some of their contents onto the heap. Half-eaten food, like rotten apples, mystery meat, and spoiled unidentifiable gelatinous ooze, squishes under my treads, making me glad I have thick-soled shoes, unlike Roc. Tawni’s the worst off, forced to plow through the muck in her bare feet. The price of fashion, I think wryly.

Just as I reach the top of the heap, the front door of the truck slams. I look back, ushering Tawni, Adele, Roc, and Trevor past me and behind the mountainous pile. The engine rumbles to life. Just before following, I glance back once more to find one of the guys hooking around the back of the truck. Without thinking, I dive down the smelly hill, tumbling head over heels, knocking into someone, bouncing off, and then knocking into another someone.

Arms and legs are tangled in a mess of limbs. There’s a head in my armpit, and my face is near someone’s feet—Trevor’s, I think, by the look of them. We’re all frozen in place, none of us crying out or complaining or so much as breathing while we silently pray the man didn’t see or hear us.

There’s a thud, presumably when the guy mounts the truck bed, and then a click and a clatter, as he rolls the door down, casting us into darkness.

“Good to go!” he yells, and then the truck lurches back, the bags of garbage shifting slightly from the rear acceleration. I finally risk a breath, but still don’t speak, expecting the truck to slam to a halt, the door to fly open, the men to come at us with big guns. We do stop, but only because the truck has reversed out, and is now ready to move forward. With a harsh roar, the truck shoots forward, and we’re thrown back into the trash pile.

“Get your armpit outta my head!” Roc hisses.

“Your head’s in my armpit,” I retort.

“Someone’s foot is in my face,” Adele whispers.

“Sorry!” Tawni says.

“This is foul,” Roc says.

With the truck door closed, we’re locked in a steel box, the air thickening with each passing second. The stench is so strong it’s almost like I’m eating it with each breath. Every few breaths I gag, wishing I could throw up, but knowing the others would never let me live it down.

“Are we there yet?” Trevor asks after a few minutes.

“I truly hope you’re not going to ask that every five minutes,” Roc says.

“Maybe every ten,” Trevor says, his smile obvious, even in the dark.

We’re probably talking too much, but it’s comforting to hear my friends’ voices in the dark, and the drone of the engine is more than sufficient to drown out any sound we make before it reaches the driver’s ears.

“I feel unclean,” Roc says after a few minutes of silence.

“Join the club,” I agree.

“Are we there—” Trevor starts.

“No!” the four of us say collectively.

“Okay, no need to get so testy. I was just checking.”

“What’s the plan when we get there?” Adele says, thinking ahead, as usual.

“Not get killed?” Roc suggests.

“That’s a good start,” I say dryly. “Look, when the truck stops I’d say it’s highly unlikely we’ll be able to get out without being seen…”

“So we’ll have to fight our way out,” Adele says.

“Exactly.”

“You children can stay in the back while I take care of it,” Trevor says.

“Just like you took care of things with your crowd-surfing dismount?” Roc says.

“That wasn’t my fault!” Trevor says.

Although the banter between Roc and Trevor should put a smile on my face, it doesn’t. Instead, a lump forms in my throat. I swallow a few times, but it refuses to be dislodged. A dark cloud settles over me—not one of stinky garbage, although that’s there too, but of untold truths and sadness. The silent truth: one that Roc and I have held onto since I was fifteen, since right before my mother disappeared. The sadness: that I haven’t told Adele, or Trevor and Tawni for that matter. They deserve to know, not only because they volunteered for the dangerous mission we’re on, but because they’re good people. Eventually, the world needs to know, but first they should.

“I’ve got something I have to tell you,” I say, my voice shaky. My skin is tingly and hot, and my heart races as I prepare to unleash the burden that’s been weighing on me for over two years now.

“This isn’t the right time,” Adele says, to my surprise.

“But you don’t even know—”

“It doesn’t matter what it is, I know now is not the right time.”

“Then when?” I say, still shocked that Adele wants me to wait even longer to give her information she knows I’ve been keeping from her since we met.

“After this is over.”

“What you are guys talking about?” Trevor asks.

Ignoring him, I say, “That’s too long. I have to do it before we get to the President. It will help you all to know what you’re fighting against and what you’re fighting for.”

“We already know that,” Adele says. “We’re fighting against evil, against injustice, against all that’s wrong in the world we live in. We’re fighting for each other, for our friends, for our families.”

“But there’s more to it,” I say.

“Now that we’ve got a ride, we’re ahead of schedule,” Roc points out. “There are places we can stop between the subchapters to rest, plan, and talk.” Roc to the rescue. He’s the only other one in our party who knows the truth—the importance of getting it out.