Sky on Fire (4 page)

There were first-aid supplies right in the living room.

The wound was small. Two sets of puncture marks. It was more of a nip than a bite, really.

I cleaned it with Bactine and applied some antibacterial ointment and a big neon-orange Band-Aid.

Caroline's freckled face was pale and tear streaked.

She and her brother were so dreamy, most of the time.

Sometimes I had the feeling that they didn't really know where they were, even, or understand how serious the situation was.

They were five years old.

Five.

“I hate rats,” she said to me quietly.

“Everyone does. They're horrible.”

“I'm glad it's dead,” she choked out.

Her face was twisted up.

“I don't care if God will be angry at me. I'm glad it's dead.”

I hugged her to me.

“God's not mad at you, Caroline,” I told her.

But I had the thought that if you were a person who believed in God, and you lived in Monument, Colorado, in the fall of '24 you really had to wonder.

*   *   *

We tried to clean Luna's wounds but she scooted between the back of the futon couch and the wall of the Train.

Astrid had gathered a shopping cart full of lights that ran on batteries.

To Henry's and Caroline's delight, and Chloe's, once she stopped pouting, there were some battery-powered Christmas tree lights.

Astrid let them string them up all over the walls of the Living Room.

I was rooting through the cart, trying to find batteries for the lanterns when I felt Astrid's hand on my shoulder.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I answered. I'm cool like that.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” I said.

She nodded me toward the Train.

I went in, bringing a lantern. I hadn't been in the Train in … how long? More than twenty-four hours, to be sure.

It was easy to remember that these had been the dressing rooms of the Greenway, before they became our sleeping quarters. They still looked pretty commercial, no matter how homey Josie had tried to make them when she redecorated.

On the doors to the rooms were written the names of the kids who'd slept there.

“Max, Batiste, and Ulysses” read the door to my right in Josie's handwriting.

That made me feel sad and scared. I missed Josie. I missed all of them.

Astrid followed my gaze.

“Do you think they could be there yet?” Astrid asked me.

“Maybe. I sure as hell hope so.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Astrid said. She was looking down at her feet. She was still wearing the knit hat I'd given her after she'd had me cut her hair.

I smiled, remembering that moment—probably the only nice thing she and I had ever shared.

Suddenly Astrid looked up and the glow from the lantern lit up her face.

A gleam of gold glinted off her nose ring. The nose ring made her look cool, but also a little fierce, too.

I must have been staring at her, wondering what she would look like without it.

“I'm not going to sleep with you,” she said.

And I nearly swallowed my heart.

“Wh-what?” I stammered.

“I just want you to know. I figured you might think that because you stayed, I would, like, sleep with you. And I'm not going to.”

Then she turned and walked out of the Train.

*   *   *

I just stood there like an idiot, with my mouth on the floor, for at least ten minutes.

Then I got angry.

*   *   *

I caught up with her in the Kitchen. She was starting to go through the shelves, pulling out food we didn't need to heat up to be able to eat.

“Astrid, I never expected you to sleep with me! I never said anything about that. I would never think or expect something like that!”

“Fine,” she said. “Good. Then we're straight.”

“I stayed because you were right. It was too dangerous for the other kids, to have us with them. And I stayed because you told me you're pregnant. And staying was the decent thing to do.”

“And I'm grateful,” she said, overarticulating her words, like she thought I was an idiot. “But I'm not going to sleep with you just because I'm grateful.”

“I can't believe you're saying this,” I stammered. “Do you think I'm some kind of animal?”

“I just wanted to get the facts straight,” she said, turning her back on me.

“Well, they're straight.”

“Good,” she said, returning to her sorting. “I'm glad to hear that.”

I was furious. She was acting so cold and so …

I don't know. I turned and walked away.

Had I been nursing a dream we'd get together and fall in love, and one day, one day far in the future, maybe we'd have sex?

Yes. Dur. Of course I had. That's what you do when you have a horrible crush on someone.

Now it felt like she was calling it out. Just saying it right in the open. It wasn't kind and it wasn't fair.

I stormed away into the dark, messy aisles of our stupid, commercial refuge.

I needed a project.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

ALEX

 

53–42 MILES

Niko had blisters coming up all over his face. I guess the mask got pushed to the side during the fight with Josie.

I guess the blisters were in his mouth, too. Or his lungs.

Niko rooted around in the plastic storage tub of medicines and found a bottle of Children's Benadryl.

He broke the seal and chugged straight from the bottle.

“Can't drive,” he gasped. “We'll rest. Ten minutes.”

He slumped in a seat and bowed his head, trying to breathe.

“Can we take our masks off?” Max asked.

“NO!” Sahalia and I both shouted at once.

“Only people who are type B can take their masks off,” Sahalia said.

“Who's that again?” asked Batiste.

“You and me and Alex,” Sahalia said, rolling her eyes.

I shrugged and took off my mask.

The air had a taste to it. A stingy taste.

But it was much easier to talk, easier to see, and also, in a way, easier to think because you didn't have to listen to your scary breathing right in your ears.

Batiste took his off sheepishly. Max and Ulysses muttered together about fairness.

“What do we do now?” Sahalia asked, her hands on her hips.

“I guess we just wait,” I said. “Niko, you tell us when you can drive, okay?”

Niko's head was lolled back on the seat.

I went up to him and put my head on his shoulder.

“Niko? Niko!” I called.

And then I heard him snore.

“Oh, this is perfect!” Sahalia complained.

“Niko, we need to get going,” I said. “Niko, wake up.”

Niko sat up and looked around, as if confused.

“Just let me sleep for a few minutes,” he muttered. “I'm so tired.”

He hadn't slept in … well, in more than 24 hours, maybe as long as 36 hours. But still.

It was murder, waiting. We gave him 10 good minutes.

“Okay, Niko. Time to get up!” I shook him.

“I can drive,” Sahalia said.

“What? No, you can't!”

“My stepdad lets me drive all the time,” she insisted.

“That's a horrible idea. This is a bus. A big school bus.”

“
I can drive
,” Sahalia shouted.

“Let her drive,” mumbled Niko. And he fell back asleep.

*   *   *

Okay, well, Sahalia wasn't terrible at driving the bus. She went maybe a little faster than Niko, but I didn't care. Josie was sedated. The kids were terrified and Niko had drugged himself into oblivion with Benadryl—the faster we got to DIA the better.

We were passing a burned-up commuter bus when a masked figure lurched out in front of us.

Sahalia braked but she hit the guy. His head cracked on the side of the bus and then he was gone.

Sahalia wrenched the steering wheel too far to the right and suddenly we were lurching down the embankment.

The terrain near the highway was fairly sparse—not a lot of trees or vegetation. Rolling hills with some dead underbrush. The underbrush slowed the roll of the bus, I think.

It didn't crash, just slowed to a stop. Sahalia was basically standing on the brake, too.

The kids were crying.

Niko staggered up from where he'd been sitting.

“What happened?” he shouted.

“Sahalia drove the bus off the road,” I said. Then, when she gave me a look that would kill, I added, “By accident.”

“Okay,” he said. He seemed pretty wobbly on his feet.

He coughed and more blood appeared on the inside of his mask.

He looked out at the area. It seemed pretty deserted.

“I think we're safe enough!”

I nodded. I knew what he meant.

Niko meant we were safe enough to sleep for a while.

*   *   *

“We're hungry,” Max complained to me.

They had said they were hungry before, but that was when we thought we were going to be in Denver in a few hours. Now it looked like we were staying put for the night.

“So eat,” I told him. “The food's over there.”

I pointed out an open bin filled with food.

Why did the kids need my help to rip open a bag of trail mix?

“You guys have to take care of yourselves! I am not in charge of you,” I said.

He had started crying.

I sighed and put my hand out to Max.

“Sorry,” I said.

I thought he would shake my hand, but instead he fell toward me and then I realized: He was giving me a hug.

Hard to tell, with all the layers. But I think it made him feel better.

Then he said, “We're so hungry.”

“For God's sake, Max, if you're hungry, eat!” I said.

“But how?” he asked.

“What do you mean, how? Open your mouth, put the food in, and chew!”

He tapped on the plastic eye panel of his face mask.

“How do we get the food in?”

I felt stupid. I hadn't thought of that.

I went back to try to help them. They ended up just lifting the edges of their masks and jamming the food in.

I saw Max's skin get red and blisters came up, so after he'd had the chance to shove a couple mouthfuls of trail mix in, I took it away from them.

They lay down to sleep.

I tried to stay up and keep watch, but I was as tired as everyone else.

I do not know why no one came poking around the bus.

Maybe it was because the bus looked so crappy from the outside.

It was covered with splotches made by the paste that Robbie had the little kids use to seal any cracks or dings. The windows were boarded up.

It probably looked like it died a long time ago.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

DEAN

 

DAY 12

I decided to make the Train and the Living Room into more of a contained unit—a little home within the bigger store. That way we could light it and heat it when needed, and make it cheerful and less scary for the little kids.

It was a good big project. I needed a big project to distract me from what had happened between me and Astrid.

First I took my flashlight and went to the Toy Department. I had noticed that the row dividers there, unlike most of the other ones, appeared to be on wheels. They were locked down, of course, but they could be moved.

I unlocked one from the aisle that held the board games. The divider had shelves (as opposed to hooks). That was great, I realized—we could use the shelves for supplies.

I got down and figured out how to unlock the wheels. Then I pushed it back to the Train.

It was hard work. The row divider was tall (maybe seven feet tall?) and heavy and unwieldy. It didn't roll well, of course, so I had to push it at an angle, like a bad shopping cart.

I was sweating and my chest was heaving by the time I got it to the Living Room.

It was long and would make up one wall of the three-sided room I was planning to set around the Living Room.

Astrid and the kids were over in the Kitchen. Probably having lunch.

I didn't want to feel left out, but of course I did.

I focused on my plan to reconfigure our living arrangements.

We would end up with the carpeted living space outside the berths, where our “kitchen” and main supplies would be. And then we'd have the Train, with our beds, right there. We would only need to go out to go to the Dump and get more supplies.

There was probably a part of my mind that was aware that I was moving forward as if we would be staying in the Greenway for a long, long time, but all I could think of in the moment was that I wanted to show Astrid that I had good ideas and that I was smart and independent and I could move really heavy things.

That's the truth.

*   *   *

By the time I wrangled the second divider to the Living Room, Astrid and the kids were back from the Kitchen. Astrid and I ignored each other.

She wordlessly handed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I wordlessly ate it and got back to work.

PB&Js are delicious, but I guess that's common knowledge.

The kids were trying to play a board game under the Christmas tree lights. Caroline was lying on her side as she played. She looked wiped out.

“Dean, come play Monopoly with us,” Chloe commanded. “Caroline and Henry just aren't getting it.”

“No!” I snapped.

The three kids' heads popped up and Astrid looked at me, a question in her eyes.

I guess in the Greenway, a sharp tone from any of us O types required immediate risk assessment.

“I'm fine,” I said. “Forget it.”

I walked away.

Let them stare.

Monopoly belonged to me and Alex. It was our game and they would never understand. There were strategies and traditions and they would never get all its complexities.