“Well, she says she’ll be back in two or three days,” said Doon. “That’s not so long.”
“The odd thing is,” said Mrs. Murdo, “that Caspar, when he left, said he wouldn’t be back for several months.”
Doon frowned. What was Lina up to? He didn’t understand it. But he didn’t want to make Mrs. Murdo more worried than she was. “She must have some plan for getting back,” he said, handing back the note.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Murdo briskly. She folded the note and replaced it in her pocket. “There’s no need to worry. I’ll have her come and find you as soon as she returns.”
She headed back toward the doctor’s house, and Doon went toward the fields. He walked slowly to give himself time to think. He was upset about Lina. How could she be so foolish as to launch herself out into an unknown world with two unknown people? But in a way he wasn’t surprised. Lina was always eager to investigate new places. Look how she’d gone up to the roof of the Gathering Hall on the first day she became a messenger in Ember. Look how eager she’d been to go down into the Pipeworks. She probably just wanted to see what was outside of Sparks. As soon as she’d satisfied her curiosity, she’d be back.
But Doon was upset about Lina for another reason, too, and it didn’t have to do with her safety. He was upset that she had gone exploring without him. All through the last days of Ember, they’d been partners. Now she had gone off on her own, leaving him here. He was annoyed, and he was hurt. He had to admit to himself that he hadn’t been a very good friend to Lina lately. Maybe he’d hurt her feelings by paying so much attention to Tick. But still—it was
Lina
who was his partner in important things. If she had an urgent reason for hitching a ride with Caspar, why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she asked him to come along?
He trudged toward the tomato field, head down, scuffing his shoes irritably in the dust, and so he didn’t notice until he was right up to it that a commotion was going on by the storage shed. Everyone was crowded around it, and Chugger the team leader was yelling. Doon hurried forward to see what was going on.
“Wasted! Wasted!” Chugger was shouting. “Two whole crates, smashed! Who’s done this? And the shed plastered with muck, and the window broken!” He glared at the crowd of workers. “Any of you know about this?” he demanded. “Anyone know what mad person did this?”
No one said a word. Doon stared with horror at the mess on the wall. It looked gory, as if it were smashed animals instead of just tomatoes. He could feel the rage of the person who had done it.
“I don’t like this,” Chugger said darkly. “Nothing like this ever happened before you people arrived. I want it cleaned up right away. Walls washed, window fixed, mess cleared away. Get on it.”
“Listen,” said someone. Doon turned to see—it was Tick speaking. “We didn’t do this. Don’t get all tough with us.”
Chugger whipped around. “Who else would do it? Who else but one of you, always griping and grumbling?”
“But we only just got here now—how could we have done it?” someone called out.
“Besides, we wouldn’t!” cried someone else. “We would never waste food!”
More and more voices rose in protest. Doon added his, too, saying, “It wasn’t us, it couldn’t have been!” But Chugger just stood and scowled at them. Finally he yelled, “Quiet! Get to work!” Just after that Doon heard running footsteps behind him and turned to see Torren racing across the field. He was shouting in his shrill, high voice as he came.
“I saw!” he cried, waving his arms. “Last night I was out here, and I saw!” He ran into the midst of the workers and stood panting, his little eyes wild. “I heard a thump, thump, thump, so I snuck up to see, and I
did
see!”
“Well, then,” said Chugger, “what did you see?”
“I saw who threw the tomatoes! I saw who made that big mess and broke the window!” He stood with his neck poked forward and his skinny arms held tight to his sides. His whole body was trembling with excitement. His eyes scanned the group of workers. “It was him!” he shrieked, pointing straight at Doon. “It was him that did it! I saw him!”
Doon was so shocked he couldn’t make a sound. He stood with his mouth open, staring at Torren. Around him, a few people spoke up. “He did not!” said someone. “He couldn’t have! Anyway, he wouldn’t.” “No,” someone else said. “He would never do that.”
But Chugger seized his arm and pulled him roughly aside. “What do you have to say for yourself? Is this your doing?”
Doon shook his head. “No,” he said. “No. That boy is lying.”
“And why would he do that? Why would he take the trouble to come out here first thing in the morning to point to you and lie?”
“I don’t know,” said Doon.
Chugger released his arm with a push. “I’ll be keeping a special eye on you from now on,” he said.
“But why?” said Doon. “I didn’t do this.”
“How do I know that?” said Chugger. “It’s your word against his. And he’s one of us.”
CHAPTER 15
A Long, Hot Ride
Lina lay very still—or as still as she could with the jolting of the truck over the rutted road. Her eyes were at the level of the space between the two lowest slats of the crate, so she could see out just enough to guess where they were—along the road by the river first, and then turning to go around the outskirts of the village. Occasionally she heard someone call a greeting to Caspar, and she heard Caspar’s voice returning it. Maddy never said anything that Lina could hear.
After a while there were no more voices. The sun beat down on Lina’s back and she began to get terribly hot and uncomfortable. She thought it might be safe to sit up now. The sound of the wheels would muffle any sounds she made, and she was far enough toward the back of the truck so that Caspar and Maddy wouldn’t see her moving. So she unfolded herself. She peered out and saw emptiness—vast stretches of dry, brown-gold grass, no people, no houses. It was an enormous space; she had not realized any place could be so big.
Sometime in the afternoon, because of the heat and the rocking motion of the truck and because there was nothing else to do, Lina went to sleep. When she awoke, she could tell right away that it was nearly evening. The air was cooler, and the sun was so low in the sky that she could no longer see it overhead; its slanting rays came between the slats of her crate.
A cramp gripped her stomach. It was partly hunger—she hadn’t thought to bring any food with her. But it was mostly fear. They must be close to the city. And when they arrived, what would she do? And what would Caspar do when he found her?
The truck slowed and came to a stop. Lina felt Caspar and Maddy jump down.
“This looks like a good enough place,” said Caspar’s voice. “Near the water, anyhow.”
“Looks all right to me.” That was Maddy’s voice.
“I’ll take the animals down to the stream,” said Caspar. Lina heard clanking and slapping sounds as he unbuckled the harness, and then the slow thud of hooves as the oxen were led away.
What was Maddy doing? Lina heard a few footsteps, some rustling among the grasses. Then there was silence. She had to move. Her legs were cramped and she had a pain in her back. Cautiously, she stood up. She stepped onto the first slat of the crate and then the second, and when she got high enough to look over the top edge, the first thing she saw was Maddy, sitting on the ground a few feet from the end of the truck, leaning against a tree and staring right at her.
“Well, well,” said Maddy. “Look who’s here.”
Lina just stared. She couldn’t move.
Maddy heaved herself up from the ground and came over to the truck. She regarded Lina with a look that was half puzzled and half amused. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“I want to see the city,” said Lina.
“Don’t you know it’s a five-day journey? How did you expect to ride in a crate all that time? And not be discovered?”
“Five days? I thought it was one day.”
Maddy just shook her head. “What are we supposed to do with you?”
“I don’t know,” said Lina. She felt a trembling start up in her stomach. She should never have come.
There was a long pause before Maddy spoke again. Then she said, “Listen. It would suit me fine if you came along to the city, if you’re sure you want to.”
“I do want to,” Lina said, though she wasn’t really sure.
“Good,” said Maddy, “because it looks like you have no choice.” She smiled. It wasn’t an unfriendly smile, but there was a quirk in it that seemed to say, What a situation. “Stay there, then,” she said. “I’ll be back.” She stamped away.
Lina watched Maddy heading toward a strip of green grasses and low trees that must border the stream; at the edge of this strip she could see Caspar and the oxen. In all directions, the landscape was the same she’d seen that morning—gently rolling, empty of buildings, covered with brown-gold grass. Here and there stood low, dark green, mushroom-shaped trees. Three of them stood near the truck, their leaves dusty, their trunks thick and gnarled. The sun had gone down behind the hills in the west, and the sky there was scarlet. Though the air was still warm, Lina shivered. She sat back down in the crate, pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Somewhere a bird sang its going-to-bed song.
Then suddenly there were loud footsteps and Caspar’s voice coming toward her, and in a moment Caspar’s fist thudding against the crate. “Come out!” he said.
Lina climbed out and stood on the truck looking down at him.
“Jump down!” he said.
She jumped down.
Caspar glared at her. “So,” he said. “A stowaway. What were you trying to do? Cause trouble? That’s your idea of fun?”
“No,” Lina said. “I want to see the city.”
“What for?” A look of suspicion passed over Caspar’s face. “What do you know about the city?”
“Nothing,” said Lina. She wasn’t going to tell Caspar about her vision of the city, or what the city might be for the people of Ember. “I just want to see it.”
“Well, too bad,” said Caspar. “Why should I take you there? Why would I want an extra person to feed? A kid to look after? Your ride stops right here. You can go back where you came from.”
“One second,” said Maddy. “Listen to me before you decide. She could be useful to us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Caspar whacked his two big hands together as if to dismiss the subject.
“Yes, she could,” said Maddy. “When you’re looking for something in a ruined place—you know how it is. Small spaces, sometimes. Tippy rubble where you need to step carefully. A small, light person could go where we couldn’t.”
Caspar took a step back and studied Lina, still glowering. Lina tried to look as small and light as she could.
“As for food,” said Maddy, “she can share mine.”
“Ridiculous,” said Caspar again. But he kept his eyes on Lina. She could see he was thinking.
“Come on, Caspar,” Maddy said. “Let’s take her. We don’t have much choice, after all. The only other thing we can do is leave her out here by herself.” She turned to Lina. “If we let you come,” she said, “you’ll have to work for us. You’ll have to do what we say.”
“All right,” Lina said, though she wasn’t sure it was all right at all. Maybe it would be better to give up seeing the city and try to get back to Sparks from here. But how would she do that? She’d never be able to find her way. And the Empty Lands frightened her; she didn’t want to be alone in such a vast, wild place. “But how will I get back again? Will you take me?”
“You should have thought of that when you climbed onto the truck,” said Caspar. “That’s your problem, not ours.” He turned to Maddy. “Right, partner?”
“Certainly,” Maddy said. “Now let’s get settled for the night. The first thing we need is some kindling. Lina and I will go and gather it.”
Lina followed her out toward the trees. Once they were in among them, Maddy bent down and spoke to her in a low voice. “Don’t worry. You were foolish to do this, but I won’t let harm come to you. And I’ll see you get home again, somehow.” She straightened up again. “Now,” she said. “Gather up some dry twigs and sticks and a few tufts of dry grass.”
They carried the sticks and grass back to where the truck was parked. There Maddy scraped out a shallow hole in the ground with the heel of her shoe. In the hole she set the smallest splinters of wood, arranging them in a sort of square. Over these she placed some sticks, and on top of those she added larger branches. She tucked in some handfuls of dried grass at the bottom of this stick building.
Until this point, Lina did not understand what she was doing. But when she pulled from her pocket a little cloth-wrapped package, unwrapped it, and took out a short blue-tipped stick, she knew. She took in a quick breath and stepped backward.
Maddy held up one of the matches and said, “Have you ever seen one of these?”
“Yes,” said Lina.
“You’re lucky, then,” said Maddy. “They’re rare.”
She struck the match across a rock and the blue tip burst into flame. She held it to the grass, and the grass sizzled and flared up.
“Come and stand close,” she said to Lina. “We need to shield this from the breeze until it gets going.”
But Lina stayed where she was, staring. The little flame at the heart of the stack of sticks flickered. It reached for the splintered end of a stick, caught it, set it aflame. The sizzling grew to a hissing, and then to a crackling. Flames jumped, and jumped higher, and there again was the orange hand stretching upward with its pointed fingers, waving, leaning toward her.
Lina stumbled backward. She didn’t want to be afraid—Caspar and Maddy weren’t. Caspar had come back now and was crouching right beside the fire, feeding it with sticks and grass. But for Lina it was as if the flames were shrieking a message at her: Run, run, run! She stood twenty feet away, staring at the fire with a pounding heart. The wind blew a ribbon of smoke at her, and when she breathed, it stung the back of her throat.
Maddy noticed, after a while, that she was out there. “Come closer, Lina,” she called. “It won’t hurt you.”
But Lina could not get her feet to walk toward that hissing, snapping blaze. It might not hurt Maddy and Caspar; but if she were to stand near it, she was sure it would reach for her with that orange hand, flick its fingers against the ends of her hair or the hem of her shirt, and she too would flare up. “I’m all right here,” she said. “I don’t want to be near it.”