The Earth Dwellers (42 page)

I may be the moderator of the Unity Council and a former president of an entire underground nation, but I can still shed a happy tear or two for those I love.

This world is far from perfect, and it always will be, but with people like Roc and Tawni and Adele and my mother in it, life will always be well worth the struggle.

Unity

Adele

It’s strange to ride the elevator back up to a place I thought I might never see again. When I step out into the hallway, I can’t hold back my smile. Because where there used to be gleaming, sterile, white walls, there are now beautiful, colorful paintings of the world outside the Dome. A lizard—or
’zard
as our fire country friends like to call them—bakes in the sun on a sandy dune; a forest-covered mountain rises almost to the ceiling; a ship crashes against a white-capped wave, sea spray spouting up and looking so real it’s like I’m in the midst of it all. Vibrant colors and life and change.

The wall paintings are all part of a movement to add color to a place that desperately needs it. The movement, appropriately called “Color Me Up,” is burning through the city like wildfire.

I stroll down the hall, admiring each painting, until I reach my destination. A blue door that used to be white. A smile spreads across my face as I lift my fist to knock.

The door opens just as I try to crack my knuckles against it, and I almost punch Lin in the face.

“Is that how you treat all your old friends?” she asks, grinning.

“Only my favorites,” I say.

I give her a hug, favoring my injured arm, and she accepts it, but pulls away quickly. Hugging’s not really her thing. “C’mon in,” she says. “It’s about time you visited.”

“Sorry,” I say, stepping inside the narrow apartment, now splashed with yellow walls and a red countertop. “Life of a councilmember’s girlfriend. Hey, I like the new décor.”

“Hey, kid,” Avery says, looking up from where he’s hunched over the small table. It’s painted red, too. “You like the colors? They are my creations. I’ve become something of a paint mixer since you took down Lecter. Well, at least after I got out of prison.”

I cringe. “Sorry you had to go through that,” I say. “You too, Lin.” One of the first things I did after Tristan told me the war had been won, was to go to the jail and release all the prisoners, including my two friends and the old man who’s apartment I borrowed while he was imprisoned. Lin’s still got a jagged scar just below her eye from being tortured, and Avery’s nose is a little crooked, having been broken.

Lin grins, like the memory is one of her favorites. “No biggie,” she says. “There aren’t many people who’ve got ‘Was tortured for information but didn’t tell them a damn thing’ on their list of life accomplishments.”

I laugh because only she’d be able to put such a positive spin on a horrific experience, wearing it like a badge of honor.

“You feel the same way, Avery?” I ask.

“She’s one of a kind,” is all he says, but there’s pride in his voice. “You’re just in time for some food.”

I groan. “Is it green, brown, and yellow rectangles?”

“Blech,” Lin says, “I hope I never see rectangle-shaped food again.”

Avery hands me a plate. “No, I call this earth dweller/fire country fusion cuisine. Or to the layman, eggs and prickler.”

I stare at the fluffy white-and-yellow, green-flecked clouds on my plate. It doesn’t look half bad. I take a tentative bite. “Mmm,” I murmur. “This is awesome.”

“Glad you like it,” Avery says. “I’ve managed to transform this minimalist place into a half-decent kitchen. Apparently cooking and painting are more my skillset than street cleaning.”

“He painted the hallway, too,” Lin says, talking with her mouth full.

“You’re kidding me?” I say. “It’s breathtaking. You’ve got real talent.”

Avery shrugs. “Who knew? I’ve been asked to do some other walls around the city.”

I take another bite of deliciousness and sigh. I’m not sure what I’m good at other than punching, kicking, and assassinating maniacal dictators, but I can’t wait to find out.

~~~

The sun is past its peak when I leave Avery and Lin’s place with a promise to see them more often. “And bring Tristan with you next time,” Lin says on my way out the door.

I stroll through the city, which is still shockingly clean and litter-free. Lecter didn’t do much right, but keeping the city free of trash was one thing I agreed with.

Left turn, right turn, another left: the new park comes into view. Children are running and playing and I spot Elsey, not because of the unbalanced way she runs now—which, amazingly, doesn’t seem to slow her down one iota—nor because she’s the only kid with one arm, but because she’s wearing the biggest smile of anyone. She tags a dark-skinned boy and then runs away laughing as he darts after her.

My mother’s sitting nearby, alone, away from the other parents, her broken arm in a sling. I’m not sure whether everything she’s experienced in her lifetime will ever allow her to fit in with everyone else, but that’s something I love about her.

She gives me a raised-eyebrow smirk when I plop down beside her. “Did you get to see Lin?” she asks.

I nod. “She asked about you like twenty-four thousand times,” I say. “I’m pretty sure she wants to be you.”

“She’s a strong girl,” she says without so much as blushing at the compliment. That’s another thing I love about my mother: she knows she’s strong and she’s not afraid of that fact. “You are too,” she adds, and I
do
blush, warmth creeping into my cheeks. I guess being like my mother is still too new for me to fully understand it.

“Elsey looks happy,” I say, watching her legs—which seem to grow longer each day—easily carry her away from the boy who’s “it,” until he gives up in search of slower prey.

“She’s never let the world scar her the way other people do,” she says. She’s right, which is what makes my sister so special, because even though she wears a terribly real physical scar from the atrocities of life, inside she’s pure and unmarked. Am I scarred? Is my mother? Will any of us ever be as pure as Elsey again? I hope so.

Elsey runs over, out of breath, giggling. She practically falls into my lap, even though she’s getting far too big to do that. “I was only ‘it’ once, and that was because I let someone tag me,” she says.

I laugh and push her off. “You’re sweaty, you little bragger.”

“Mother says sweat is a good thing. That it’s what makes the world a better place.”

I glance at my mother, who tries to hide her smile. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want your sweat on me,” I say.

As I watch Elsey brush a moist strand of hair away from her face and charge off to rejoin the game, I feel an unexpected swell of emotion in my chest. Is this……
real
? Can life go on like none of the awfulness ever happened?

The answer comes to me as I watch Elsey let herself get tagged again. In a move that reminds me so much of myself, she immediately hones in on the tallest, fastest boy, chasing him across the lawn.

No, the world will not go on in denial about its past. And it shouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean we have to be afraid of the past, so long as we remember it and learn from it, united in our belief that humans are inherently good and that the evil is the exception, not the rule. Always hope and strive for a better future.

Elsey gains a step on the boy, then another. She’s so close, her fingers swiping and missing his back by the tiniest margin. She springs forward, diving to try to make the tag, but a brown blur rushes in from the side, catching her before her fingers can find their mark.

Roc does an exuberant and overzealous celebration lap around the park, slinging Elsey—who’s giggling and protesting—over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Tawni shakes her head at Roc’s antics and makes her way over to us. Her white-blond hair practically sings under the reflected rays of the sun. I stand and hug her, holding her longer than normal. “I missed you too,” she says, understanding me the way she always has.

Behind her is Tristan, his arm around his mother, talking and laughing, his mouth closing only when he sees me and the way I’m looking at him:

With fire and ice and water and storms in my eyes. With the red sky and the yellow-white sand and the green grass. With gray rocks and dim lighting and painted walls. With life and love and memories.

Does he stop laughing because he sees all that in my gaze?

When he smiles I know that he does.

Because I see it in his eyes too.

A million memories and the future.

He hugs me and I’m home.

He kisses me and I’m never alone.

Whether our mothers had any idea what they were really doing when they stuck those chips in our necks, we may never know, but it doesn’t matter now. Because we were always meant to be together and I can’t imagine a life apart.

I’m his rock and he’s mine.

And thus ends (and begins) the greatest adventure of my lifetime.

~*~

Keep reading for:

1) Three awesome Dwellers short stories

2) A long-awaited interview with Perry the Prickler

3) A sneak peak of
Brew
, the first book in David Estes’ new YA paranormal dystopian series,
The Witching Hour
, coming January 16, 2014!

A personal note from David…

If you enjoyed this book, please, please, please (don’t make me get down on my knees and beg!) consider leaving a positive review on
the major book review sites
. Without reviews
on the major sites
, I wouldn’t be able to write for a living, which is what I love to do! Thanks for all your incredible support and I look forward to reading your reviews.

Acknowledgments

No way! *blinking quickly while pinching my arms and slapping my cheeks* It can’t be over, can it? 7 books, more than 700,000 words, and 18 months later, and the combined Dwellers/Country Sagas are finished. I’m in shock. Complete shock. Speechless. Well, not completely, as us writers almost always have something to say. And what I have to say is mostly a whole lot of THANK YOUS.

First and foremost, to my wife, the real Adele, you have been more than just a support to me on this journey—you’ve been my partner in crime. You’ve suffered my endless babbling about plotlines and characters and promotions and rejection letters and on and on. You’ve been there for my greatest defeats and my greatest triumphs. You’ve sat with me and pored over copious amounts of beta feedback, helping me decide how to improve my early manuscripts. You’ve added your own critical feedback to my stories, never holding back, always being honest, determined to not let me be complacent in my earlier successes, to make each and every book the best that they could be. You are my best friend and the most important person in my life.

To my readers, you are the best, most wooloo people I’ve ever met and I’m so searin’ glad to know so many of you on a first name basis through the David Estes Fans and YA Book Lovers Unite group on Goodreads. You people make me laugh, cry, and throw my laptop across the room on a daily basis, and I’ll always love you for it. If you keep on reading, I’ll keep on writing. Thanks for sticking with me.

A huge HUGE
HUGE
thanks to my cover artist for this book and for the other three Dwellers books, Tony Wilson at Winki Pop Design. Your art and designs have been PERFECT for this series and I’m never surprised when readers tell me how much they love the covers.

To my beta readers, many of whom have been around for all seven books, you all are so AWESOME I can hardly even put it into words. This is the seventh book in the series, and yet you took your job so seriously, challenging me on the smallest of minutiae, forcing me to think about the decisions I was making and why I was making them. The improvements I made to the story based on your feedback will undoubtedly be well appreciated by my readers. So thank you Laurie Love, Alexandria Theodosopoulos, Kerri Hughes, Terri Thomas, Lolita Verroen, Rachel Schade, Brooke DelVecchio and Anthony Briggs Jr.

And last but not least, to my remarkable Street Team, I love love LOVE reading your reviews of my ARCs, they keep me going sometimes when building a writing career feels like the hardest thing in the world. Thanks for all your reviews, support, and genuine kindness. You are the definition of good people. And a special thanks to Kelly in particular, who has been the ultimate street team member and has taught me so much about how to get the word out about my books. I appreciate everything that you do.

The saga continues in other books by David Estes available through the author’s official website:

http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

or through select online retailers including Smashwords.com.