Sunrise

“You must have taken an inventory of all supplies available in the town. It would be a basic survival preparation.” “Now, son, we don’t go messing with making lists of people’s private property. I don’t know what kind of big city you come from, but around here folks’ stuff is their own, and we don’t go making lists of it. Don’t tell them they can’t have Big Gulp sodas either. You want that stuff on your list, you’ll have to ask around, see if they want to trade.”

I groaned inwardly. Warren’s population had shrunk by almost eighty percent since the eruption, but that still left several hundred people. And what did soda have to do with anything, anyway?

“You are not sufficiently prepared for another attack,” Ben said. “You need to inventory all town supplies—pri-vate property or not. And you must begin building a wall immediately.”

“You want to build a wall, be my guest,” Mayor Petty said. “People around here are just struggling to survive. They don’t have the time or energy for a project like—” “If Stockton attacks again,” I said, “you’ll—”

“We beat them so bad they won’t be back for more.” Wait, what? I’d beaten the Reds and gotten Warren’s food back. Mayor Petty had gotten his ass kicked, his legs shot off, and my Aunt Caroline killed. While I was trying to think of an appropriate response, Darla spoke up. “What’re you going to do for heat when all the timber’s cut? We could use your help rounding up these supplies— we get them all, we might be able to rig a wind-powered heating system.”

“Got that covered. Going to eminent domain abandoned houses and grant salvage rights. Plenty of burnable wood in those.”

Darla said, “Even that—”

“Look,” Mayor Petty said, “I’d love to chew the fat all day, but we got ourselves a project here, getting ready to publicize the new food distribution rules. You’re welcome to trade with anyone who wants to or build yourself a wall if that’s what you feel like doing, but I’ve got real work to do.”

We wound up going house to house, knocking on doors and trying to trade our kale. We bought two bicycles fairly easily and then trekked a half mile out of town to buy what appeared to be the only remaining snowmobile in Warren. Lots of folks were willing to trade electric water heaters—they were useless without power, after all—but we could only fit two of them in the bed of the truck alongside the snowmobile.

I complained about Mayor Petty to Mom and Uncle Paul over the di

“I think Ben’s right,” Uncle Paul said. “He should be building a wall. And we should be living inside it and commuting to the farm. We can’t defend ourselves effectively here.”

“Maybe we could build an ice wall around the farm, like they had in Worthington,” Darla said.

“We do not have an adequate population on the farm to patrol or defend our own wall,” Ben said.

“If Warren gets attacked, everyone’s going to wind up right back here again,” I said.

Uncle Paul speared a slice of ham. “Nothing we can do about it.”

“What if he had an accident?” Max said.

“What?” I asked.

“Yeah, like the brakes on his wheelchair could sort of accidently fail, and then he could roll off a cliff.”

“So you’re going to sabotage his brakes, drive him somewhere there’s a cliff, and then push him off?” A

“Maybe you’re an idiot,” A

“No, the mayor’s an idiot,” Max said.

“He’s a very nice man,” Mom said.

“Maybe the mayor is both nice and an idiot,” I said. “Either way, we’re not going to hurt him.”

“I was just joking,” Max said.

“Fine,” I said, even though I didn’t completely believe Max. I turned my attention to Uncle Paul. “There must be a way to get rid of him.”

“Don’t look at me,” Uncle Paul said.

“You could try protesting or something,” A

“Maybe,” Darla said. “But Warren’s a small town like Worthington. Nobody’s going to listen to outsiders.”

“I’ve lived near here almost all my life,” Uncle Paul said. “What we need to do,” I said, “is convince enough residents to complain, to make Mayor Petty change his mind and either build a wall or leave office.”

“Something must be done,” Ben said. “Warren’s strategic posture is completely unsustainable.”

“I’ll try,” I told Ben.

Darla released a sigh. “I’m going to get roped into helping you, aren’t I?”

“It’s up to you,” I said, “but I’d love your company.” “Are you sure this isn’t another case of Alex grabbing a lance and charging a windmill?” Darla asked.

It might be exactly that, I thought. “No. I’m not sure. But I think it’s worth trying.”

“I’d better come along, then. You might need some help if the windmill decides to fight back.”

Everyone was quiet for a while, wrapped up in our own thoughts. I thought about trying to convince enough people to protest to force Mayor Petty to take action or step down. I had plenty of work to do without getting involved in Warren’s byzantine politics.

But then I remembered the bloody road in front of Elmwood Cemetery, Aunt Caroline falling as the bullets tore into her stomach, A

Chapter 16

We did farm work in the morning and early afternoon—watering, planting, harvesting, cutting wood. Darla invited the other girls—Rebecca, A

Max, Ed, and I finished a woodcutting expedition to Apple River Canyon State Park early one afternoon, so I went out to the barn to say hi to Darla. She was holding a lit welding torch and gesturing at the flame with a metal rod, while Rebecca and A

“The oxygen and acetylene combine in the i

“Need any help?” I asked.

“You’re not allowed,” Rebecca said.

“I’m not—”

“This is the Girls’ Excellence in Engineering Klub. We’re the GEEKs! No boys allowed.”

“Um—”

“Particularly not older brothers of club members,” Rebecca said.

“What about boyfriends of club members?” I asked Darla.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

I shrugged and headed out of the barn. On the way out the door, I thought of something and turned back. “Maybe you should call it ‘Girls’ Excellence in Engineering and Science Education,’ so it would be the GEESE club.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, A

I knew when I was beaten. I left the barn without another word.

I peeked in on the GEEKs now and then over the following days. They took two bicycles and the snowmobile completely apart. The idea was to weld the two bicycles together side by side, with the snowmobile track between them where their back wheels had been. The front wheels of each bike would be replaced with skis. I didn’t quite understand how it was going to work—the whole process seemed to involve a lot of welding and cursing. But I knew Darla would figure it out—there was no apparent limit to her genius with all things mechanical.