“Not sure I believe
that,
” said Pelton.
“I think it’s true,” said Maddy. “They all say it, all the ones who came from there.”
“And what about the treasure, then?” Pelton asked.
“It was
us
!” cried Lina. “We were the treasure, the people of Ember!” She felt a swell of love all of a sudden for her old city. “Sing that first song again, the last lines of it.”
Pelton sang: “What’s hidden will come to light again. It’s far more precious than diamonds and gold.”
“You see?” said Lina. “Come to light! We came up into the light! And we were more precious than diamonds and gold because they thought we might be the last people—the only ones left.”
The three of them gazed at each other in wonder. “I believe she’s right,” said Maddy at last.
“Maybe so,” said Pelton. He stared curiously at Lina. “You lived
underground
?”
So then for the rest of the evening, Lina told about the city of Ember, and how she had been a messenger there, and how she and Doon had found the way out. It was late when they finally lay down for the night. Lina couldn’t sleep at first, thinking of the old songs and what they meant. Someone, long ago, had hoped that at least a few people would survive and had wanted them to remember her city and the treasure it held, the treasure that was most valuable of all—herself, her family, and all the generations of people who had lived in that secret place, their purpose, though they didn’t know it, to make sure that human beings did not vanish from the world, no matter what happened above.
The Third Town Meeting
After the rampage in the plaza, the three town leaders went up to the tower room for an urgent meeting. They flopped into their chairs and sat without speaking for a few moments, staring down at the mess below.
“What do we do now?” said Wilmer.
Ben curled both hands into fists and set them on the table in front of him. “The cavepeople,” he said, “must leave.”
“Leave?” said Mary.
“Leave,” said Ben. “They must go away from here.”
“But they haven’t been here six months yet,” said Wilmer.
“They must go now,” said Ben. “It’s better for them anyhow, to leave before winter really sets in.”
“They won’t want to leave,” said Wilmer, tugging anxiously at a strand of his hair. “I think they understand now that there’s nowhere for them to go.”
“They
must
go,” said Ben. “We can never feel safe while they are here. If they refuse to go, we will force them to. We have the means to do it.”
There was a long silence. Ben and Mary glared at each other. Wilmer’s eyes darted anxiously between them.
At last, Mary set the palms of her hands on the table and took a long breath. “You are speaking of the Weapon,” she said.
“That’s right,” said Ben. “We have it for situations of dire emergency. I think we have an emergency now.”
“We’ve never used it before,” said Wilmer. “We don’t even know how to work it.”
“I think it is unwise to use it,” said Mary. “We have always tried our best not to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors. Using the Weapon would be the first step down the path they took.”
“We may not actually have to
use
the Weapon,” said Ben. “All we have to do is threaten them with it. Just the sight of it will make them do what we say—that is, leave.”
“What you are proposing,” said Mary, “is sending four hundred people to their deaths.”
“Not necessarily,” said Ben. “The village of Sparks started with almost nothing, why shouldn’t they?”
“It’s not true that we started with nothing. The founders of Sparks came here from the old cities, in a truck loaded with enough food and supplies to keep them going for months. These people have nothing at all.”
“We will send a truck with them, then,” said Ben. “With barrels of water, some food, and some basic supplies.”
“That would last them about a week,” said Mary. “Besides, they have no skills. They haven’t had time to learn them.”
Ben sighed impatiently. “Are we supposed to subject our own people to hardship and danger because of a bunch of refugees from a cave? Isn’t it our job to
protect
our own people?”
“But if they rebel against this order,” said Wilmer, “then what?”
“I thought I had made that clear,” said Ben. “We use force. It is our only option.” He pondered for a moment, frowning into the air above Wilmer’s head. “We’ll put the Weapon on a truck and take it to the hotel. If they put up any resistance, it’ll be right there, ready to use.” He thumped a fist on the table. “I say we give them a day to prepare. The day after tomorrow they will leave Sparks. All of them. For good. Shall we vote on it?”
They nodded.
“I vote yes,” said Ben. “They must leave.”
“I vote no,” said Mary.
Wilmer stared down at his hands. He swallowed. He took a shaky breath. “I . . . ,” he said. “I vote . . . I vote yes.”
So it was decided. They would make the announcement that very night, calling the people of Ember together after they were through with work and before they went back to the hotel. Ben would be the one to tell them. He would make it clear that the decision was final.
CHAPTER 23
Getting Ready for War
The announcement shocked the people of Ember. That evening, they swarmed through the halls of the Pioneer Hotel in an uproar. People wept and shouted and moaned. In the lobby, Doon encountered a group of people embroiled in a huge argument.
“It’s the fault of that Hassler boy,” shouted someone. “He was the one who started the riot. He was egging people on.”
“No! He stood up for us! He gave them what they deserved!” cried someone else.
“He’s a troublemaker!”
“He’s a hero!”
Doon started up the stairs. Halfway up, he passed Lizzie. Her face was flushed with excitement. She grabbed his arm. “He won’t let them kick us out,” she said, “will he?”
“Will who?” said Doon.
“Tick. I’m sure he’ll save us. He’s so brave, isn’t he? He’ll make them change their minds.” She hurried on down the stairs.
It was many hours before people went to sleep that night. The noise in the hallways went on and on, as some people wailed that they were all going to die, and others vowed to fight, and others gathered up their belongings and stuffed them into sacks. Sadge was so frightened by what was happening that he curled up in the corner with his blanket over his head. But Doon and his father and Edward Pocket sat talking for a long time.
“I don’t see how we could make a town from nothing out in the Empty Lands,” said Doon. “I don’t believe they ever thought we could. We’d starve trying to do it. We
can’t
go—they can’t make us.”
His father, who sat leaning against the wall with his knees up, shook his head sadly. “I don’t know,” he said. “This Weapon they have—they could use that to force us out.”
“But what could it be?” Doon said. “Just one weapon? I don’t understand it.”
“To be effective,” said Edward Pocket in his most learned tone, “a weapon must come into contact with the person or persons it is used against. The question is, how can one weapon be effective against four hundred people? My guess is that it’s something very large that could be made to fall on us and crush us.”
“But where could they hide it, if it’s that large?” asked Doon. “It would have to be as big as a mountain.”
“It could be an animal,” said Doon’s father. “They might have it in a cage in the basement of the town hall. Something very fierce that they would let loose on us.”
“Or it might be something like the poison oak, only worse,” said Doon. “Some sort of poison that they could spray at us.”
His father nodded thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said. “That could be it.”
“But Father,” said Doon, “we have to fight them, don’t you think? No matter what the Weapon is. We can’t just leave. It’s so unfair!”
Edward Pocket, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, scrambled to his feet. He clenched both fists and raised them as if ready to pound someone. “I’m not leaving!” he shouted. “Let them try and make me! I’ll chain my leg to their big old tree!”
From under his blanket, Sadge moaned.
“Besides,” Edward went on, “I have work to do here. They need me. They need all of us!” He sat down again. “Probably tomorrow they’ll change their minds.”
“I don’t think so,” said Doon’s father. “That Ben sounded serious to me.”
“So what do we do, then, Father?” asked Doon. “We fight, don’t we?”
Doon’s father sighed. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and stared down at his knees. “Think about what it would mean to fight,” he said. “Say we barricade ourselves here in the hotel and refuse to leave. They come at us with their Weapon, whatever it is. Some of us are hurt, some die. We go out to meet them with whatever weapons we can find—sticks, maybe, or pieces of broken glass. We battle each other.” He ran his hand across his head and sighed again. “Maybe they set fire to the hotel. Maybe we march into the village and steal food from them and they come after us and beat us. We beat them back. In the end, maybe we damage them so badly that they’re too weak to make us leave. What do we have? Friends and neighbors and families dead. A place half destroyed, and those left in it full of hatred for us. And we ourselves will have to live with the memory of the terrible things we have done.”
Doon pictured all this as his father spoke. He hadn’t really imagined before what fighting would be like. “But still,” he said. “At least some of us would survive and have a place to live. If we go out into the Empty Lands, we’ll all die.”
His father just shook his head. “I don’t know, Doon. I have to admit, I just don’t know what we should do.”
“I know what
I’m
going to do,” said Edward Pocket.
“What?” asked Doon.
“Go to bed,” said Edward. He stamped over to his closet and crawled in. “Wake me up,” he said, “when you’ve got all this figured out.”
An hour or so later, the noise of marching sounded in the hallway, and the
thump-thump
of knocks on doors, one after the other. Tick’s voice rang out: “Calling all fighters!” he shouted. “All fighters! All those who refuse to be banished! Meet at the head of the road. We must make our plan!” The footsteps passed, and Doon heard the same message repeated farther down the hall, and again farther yet.
He put his clothes and shoes back on. In spite of what his father had said, he still didn’t think the people of Ember should agree to go quietly out into the wilderness. Somehow, they must resist—and Tick was the only one with a plan.
The hall was full of people, a few of them murmuring quietly to each other, most of them silent. All were heading for the stairs. Outside, the night was warm, but a restless wind stirred in the trees and scraps of cloud flew across the stars. With the others, Doon headed for the meeting place.
Tick stood in a patch of moonlight, the dense shrubbery behind him. When people had gathered around, he held up his rod, and all whispering died away.
“Listen carefully,” Tick said. He spoke in a level voice, not loudly, but every word was sharp and clear. “The day we’ve been ordered to leave—the day after tomorrow—we will assemble at dawn, at the front of the hotel. Have your weapons with you. There are still many people who haven’t made up their minds to fight, and a few who are ready to go meekly into the Empty Lands, following orders. We want to change their minds. Flash your weapons! Shout our battle cry: ‘We will not go!’ Remind them of the black words of hatred scrawled in mud on the plaza and on the walls of our hotel, and the poison leaves on the doorstep. We will make those cowards ashamed of their weakness. We will make them understand that obedience to evil commands is a disgrace. Most of them, maybe all of them, will join us. And once they have, we will march into the village, loud and defiant and strong, and in the plaza we will confront the town leaders and make our demands.”
A few people raised their fists and shouted approval.
“What are our demands?” Doon asked. He was standing at the front of the crowd, just a few feet from Tick.
“They are these,” said Tick. “We demand to be made full citizens of this town, not cast out into the wilderness. We demand to be properly fed. We demand decent places to stay. We demand the end to unfair rules and insults.”
These seemed reasonable things to ask for, Doon thought. “And if they refuse to agree to our demands?” he asked.
“Then of course we fight.”
“But they have this Terrible Weapon they talk about,” said Doon. “What about that?”
Others echoed his question. “Yes, what about it?”
Tick smiled. His teeth showed white in the moonlight. “They have one weapon,” he said. “We have many. And each weapon, in the right hands, is an engine of power.” His voice grew louder. “We will attack them,” he cried, “like this!” He raised his steel rod and brought it slashing down so that the air whistled around it. The end cut into the ground. He raised it again and whipped it back and forth, striking tree trunks so hard he gashed their bark. He whirled around and battered the bushes behind him. “You cannot defeat us!” he cried to an imaginary enemy. “Right is on our side! We will have your blood! We will break your bones!” He went into a frenzy of stabbing and slicing, thrashing wildly among the bushes. Leaves flew, twigs snapped.
Something fluttered and fell. Doon saw it. So did Tick. He stopped for a moment and glanced down. At his feet was a half-grown baby bird that must have been huddled deep within the bushes. It flopped onto its side, its beak gaping.
“You see?” Tick cried. “The enemy falls at my feet!” He raised his rod. “With one blow I—”
Doon stepped forward and grabbed Tick’s arm. “Don’t,” he said.
Tick tried to pull away. Then he relaxed and lowered his weapon. He grinned. “Okay,” he said. “I think it’s dead anyhow.” He stuck the toe of his shoe beneath the bird and flipped it away, into the grass. “But you get the idea,” he said, turning back to his warriors. “Imagine
hundreds
of us doing that! We’ll be unbeatable.” His face was alight with glee.