Moonful of silver, p.15
Moonful of Silver, page 15
His eyes widened as he scrambled for his children.
“Everyone!” Jo shouted. “Follow me!” She led as many as she could through the streets and into her dome. “The pantry. Hurry!” One by one, she pushed them into the space she’d chiseled out for herself in those first few Moondays—a place she could hide in case anyone from her old life came looking for her.
Ignacio carried Nona and the two boys, and she offered them a reassuring smile.
Cap.
Where was Cap?
Jo lifted her eyes to the saloon. The friendly silhouette of the old woman who had made this town a home stepped into the street. She glanced at the dustclouds and back to Jo. They were too close. And Cap was too far to reach her without them seeing.
Cap smiled and nodded as if to say it would all be okay, and then she drew her scanner.
No, Cap!
Jo stepped towards her, but a voice called from behind.
“Jojo! My bunny!” Nona.
Jo glanced at where she stood, and the toy little Nona had dropped lay by her feet. Her breath hitched as that old sensation blasted her chest.
Time to run.
She picked up the bunny and fled inside, locking the pantry door behind her.
In the darkness once again. She thought she’d escaped it, but no. It would always be chasing her. Always on the prowl to snatch her in its teeth.
Jo passed Bunny to Nona before she was swallowed by the townsfolk. How many had she fit in here? How many were unaccounted for, hiding in their own private alcoves?
They were packed in so tight, each shoulder pressed against another. The tension passed through their touch, and an anxious murmur threatened to break out at any moment.
“Quiet!” Jo whispered.
They silenced.
Footsteps.
A pause.
And then the pantry door swung open and Jo stared down the helmeted form of a stranger who held their lives in the scanner at their side.
The stranger lifted their hand to their helmet.
Jo had been running her whole life. But where was there to run now?
NAMELESS
Present
“If you won’t answer, then I’m coming to you,” Ramone said.
Nameless flipped the communicator in her helmet. “Don’t bother. Nothing here. Keep going. We’re almost done.”
She raised a finger and held it to her mouth in a careful shush, and then she closed the pantry door.
Static hissed.
She waited.
Finally, Ramone’s voice broke through. “Copy that.”
Nameless exhaled. Only in the badlands were death and life so close to each other that they could be separated by the opening of a door. If it had been Ramone who’d found that pantry, it would’ve been a massacre. She prowled what remained of the shelters, praying to the stars that this was the town’s only hiding spot, or that Esteban’s goons were too dustheaded to notice any others.
A quick sweep later, and they were hauling water onto the trailer from the supplies Esteban had located. The low gravity allowed for bulkier tanks to be loaded, but the straps only held so many.
“Diego, any signs of movement while you’ve been out here?” Esteban asked.
“The only thing that’s moved has been my drinking arm.”
Esteban cut the feed. The static that had whined in the background shut off, and Diego gestured his disdain. Nameless could practically see the rant painted across his body. How Diego never got the respect he deserved. How Esteban was constantly making him look stupid for drinking, which was just about the only sensible thing to do out here. How Esteban had better watch out, because he didn’t know who he was toying with.
Diego reached for his bottle of whiskey, removed his helmet, and gulped a mouthful in the thin atmosphere of the town’s art-at.
Esteban mounted his hovercycle and took off across the dust. The rest followed, Nameless keeping pace. Diego was the last to leave, hauling the trailer.
Nameless held her breath, marking time. She rode at the same ludicrous speed over the same harsh terrain. All the while, the water tanks shook on the back of the trailer. Click after click, they powered toward Tranquility, their collars working overtime. On the second Earth-day of riding, Nameless finally opened the connection with the trailer through her visor.
Patience, Nameless mouthed. Just a little further. Over the next dune, the crater descended from a steep rim. The drop would be tough enough for a hovercycle to handle at low speed, but this fast—it wasn’t stupid to try it, it was crazy.
Diego somehow managed to catch up to the rest, and he was tracking alongside Esteban, who refused to even look his way. Esteban increased his speed toward the crater.
Diego matched it.
Esteban pushed on the throttle.
So, too, Diego. After all, he was the one with something to prove. Something to show Esteban that he was every bit as capable as that weakling Sanchez, dangerous as Nameless. He’d been ignored long enough. And if it took keeping up with Esteban to show everyone he was owed respect, then so be it.
Nameless activated her command link with the trailer. She watched the hovers approach the rim, side by side.
Patience. Wait for it.
They neared the edge before opening their engines as wide as the crater’s gorge. And then, just as they were about to plummet over the dune, and into its shadow, she activated the strap’s release and sent the water hurling from the trailer. Barrels rained down, missing Esteban by mere inches as he flew to the right and rammed the brakes. The force of the barrels falling sent Diego into a spin, and he fought the handlebars to correct it.
Both hovers staggered to a halt, kicking up a storm of dust, and Nameless erased the connection to the trailer from her helmet’s memory.
By the time the dust cleared, the barrels had landed in sun or shade, spilling their contents across the ground in icy tentacles that made it completely unusable, or evaporating instantly in tendrils of mist.
Empty barrels lay strewn between Esteban and Diego.
Nameless, Ramone, and Sanchez pulled to a stop at the crater’s edge. They watched as Esteban’s whole body shook.
Diego raised his arms to protest, but then Esteban stilled, calm as the vacuum of space.
Diego flicked through the comm settings on his handlebars. Feedback screeched through their helmets.
“Capitan. It was an accident, mi amigo. You can’t think this was my fault.” Diego didn’t slur a syllable.
Esteban made no reply. He just perched on his saddle, one hand over his holster, completely still.
“Esteban. You know me. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t betray you. Not like this. We’re brothers in the badlands, amigo. Brothers!”
And in that instant, Diego stiffened worse than a corpse. As soon as he’d uttered the word brothers, he snapped into a state of panic. As if he’d just inadvertently made an admission of guilt—the confession of a traitor brought to light.
“Ramone,” Diego pleaded. “Ramone, do something!”
“Diego, don’t move! I’m sure this is all just a misunders—”
Ramone was cut short by the flash of Esteban’s hand reaching for his scanner. Diego did the same, but too late. Electricity sparked across Diego’s neck, and he convulsed terribly before collapsing over the handlebars of his hovercycle.
Static fizzed until Esteban’s voice broke the stillness. “Leave him where he is. The sooner we get back to Tranquility, the better.”
Sanchez followed Esteban’s lead, and Ramone was the last to leave Diego’s body. Nameless watched Ramone, and with the way his shoulders shook, she could have sworn there were tears beneath his helmet.
THE HOVERS RETURNED to Tranquility and pulled straight into the garage of Esteban’s compound. They carried nothing back with them but regret.
Esteban dismounted and removed his helmet. His eyes were—they didn’t seem like eyes. More like spinning whirlpools.
“My office!” he yelled.
They all followed him to his desk. He marched to the drink cabinet and picked up a bottle of brandy.
“You want you to tell me what happened out there?” He targeted his screaming at Ramone.
Ramone shook his head.
“Were the two of you in it together? Huh? To send me out to provide for the colony, and return empty handed? Weaken my position here so you could grab it for yourselves?”
“No,” Ramone whispered.
“Don’t play dumb! I know the way Diego felt. Speak! Tell me!”
“No.” Again, a whisper.
“I’ll kill you, if you don’t talk! Don’t think I won’t!”
“No.”
Esteban slapped Ramone across his face. “Is it always destined to be this way, Benito?”
“Benito?” Sanchez said. “Who’s Benito?”
Esteban paused. He paced behind his desk. His hands shuddered as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and poured its contents down his gullet.
“Out! All of you! Get out!” Esteban shrieked.
They left the captain to his bottle, his sobs and whimpers cut short by the closing of the door.
Nameless turned to leave and Sanchez reached to stop her. She shrugged him off. “Not now, kid. Best thing to do is rest.”
Nameless marched to her room, collapsed onto her bed, and allowed her limbs to finally release. A flood of relief overwhelmed her every sinew. It washed over her body like dust over moonrock, settling to cover her in its veil. The snake was almost hungry enough to feed on its tail. But still, the tension in her head refused to ease as she lay there, hoping the mental tally she’d taken of the colony’s water stored in the vault wasn't drastically short. Hoping she hadn’t just condemned them all to a slow, dry death.
MARIA
Past
Her day of freedom had finally come. If only this stupid zipper would close. Maria rearranged her toiletries and attempted to fasten her rucksack once more. It caught on the material. She growled, pulled it back, and tried again. This time, it halted halfway.
“Ay-ya!” With her heart thumping a rapid beat, she pressed down on the stuff with one hand and ran the zipper with the other. Push. Pull. Push. Pull.
With a final stretch, it closed. She planted her hands on her hips with a huff. Glancing about the sparse room with its meager bed, dresser, desk, and chair made her nauseous. She hardly believed she’d been stuck here for so long. The dim lighting contrasted with the brightness of her greenhouse for a reason. She hated this place—the rickety bed, the dingy walls, and its ever-present musty odor.
Still, there were things she didn’t want to leave behind—sentimental keepsakes, stuff she couldn’t take with her. Benito had given her the beautiful ceramic jewelry box with its old-fashioned mechanical music that made the ballerina inside twirl. The ornate flowerpot and elegantly carved makeup mirror as well.
One thing she’d keep . . . She rubbed the soft brown leather of Benito’s captain’s jacket on her cheek. It no longer smelled like him, but she’d sooner die than leave it behind. Plus, it’d disguise the form-fitting spacesuit. Not completely. But just enough.
She was leaving. And it was all Sanchez’s doing.
Sanchez had come to her a few weeks ago. He was only a kid. So young—too young to remember Benito and better times. He’d asked for the batches of greens she’d picked for the day’s meal.
“They’re where I always leave them,” she’d said.
He smiled and shrugged. “S-sorry, señorita. I’m new. I d-don’t know the rules.”
She rose from her gardening work. “Let me show you.”
Before she knew it, she’d given him a tour of the greenhouse. He’d stuttered at first, asking questions, but soon they were chatting.
She had no intention of befriending him. Or using him. Not until he returned the next day.
The way he looked at her with his easy smile—his gaze darting away when she caught him staring. Truth be told, he was a good-looking kid. Soft brown eyes, a patch of hair under his bottom lip, a sparse mustache, and chiseled cheekbones that turned rosy when he smiled. But he was only a kid, and no one would ever compare to Benito.
That day, he’d found her crying. Not unusual. The strange part was the flash of pity he showed her. That was all it took for her to spill her story, and for him to offer help. How could she say no? To use someone so young and innocent didn’t sit well, but she was desperate. She had to get out of here.
That was a month ago. And now, everything was ready. She left the sparse bedroom and entered her greenhouse. Her heart ached for the lush green that surrounded her. She paused and drew in the damp, earthy scent carrying a hint of sweetness. Ay, Benito. She would really miss this place. It had been her solace for so long.
Her gaze fell on Benito’s earthen tomb. A rising sorrow threatened to engulf her. She’d propagated the orchid he’d given her, and now several flowers bowed to her grief. If only she could take them all with her.
She removed shears from a pocket on her hip and snipped off a piece instead. The softness of the petals provided comfort. Their fragrance eased her worries. A quick search uncovered a small seed starter pot. She placed the clipping inside, then tucked it into a jacket pocket where it hugged against her heart.
With one last glance, she left the greenhouse. The tremor in her nerves subsided at the sight of empty streets. She’d half expected Esteban to be waiting for her with a smug smile. Her swift feet carried her to the rear of a residential dome where she prayed Sanchez would be.
She didn’t doubt his intent to help her, but Esteban had a way of figuring things out. Her thoughts spiraled in all the ways this might go wrong. What if Sanchez didn’t make it? Or Esteban killed him and waited there instead?
Her heart rate accelerated. Holding her breath, she rounded the last corner.
A smile awaited her, and her knees nearly buckled with relief. The young man leaned against a MULE with a casual crossing of his arms and legs. Not a hint of worry creased his brow—the arrogance of youth. She couldn’t help but smile in return.
One look at the MULE and her expression fell. It was one Benito had purchased, but it had long since fallen into disrepair. Gabe was a fine mechanic but it was difficult keeping up with Esteban’s violent and careless use.
Well, it’s all I’ve got.
Poor Sanchez sagged like a lost puppy as she mounted. What was he expecting? She cupped his cheek, leaned over, and granted him a peck on the lips. “I’m sorry. I have to go. But thank you so much for giving me my freedom. I’ll never forget you.”
With that, she started the mule. It roared to life like an injured tiger. Revving the engine, she sped away in a cloud of moondust. Adios Esteban, you dustheaded silt-sucker.
Weaving through the backstreets of the colony, she passed only a handful of people. No one paid her much mind. Still, the closer she got to her escape, the more her heart raced. Just a few hundred meters to go.
She skidded as she turned onto Main Street. More people lined the road. Some watched as she rode by, but they either didn’t recognize her or didn’t care she was leaving. One of Esteban’s men leaned against a dome with a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and her throat tightened. There was no way to avoid passing him.
Plegue a Benito! Please don’t let him notice me.
Her instinct was to speed up. No. That would surely capture his attention. Instead, she attempted to relax and held her breath in prayer.
She rode past, keeping her eyes forward. Come on. Her shoulders tensed, expecting him to yell at any moment. Even as she lost sight of him in her periphery, he said nothing, and she kept on going.
The exit loomed ahead. Her heart raced faster than the mule. Almost there. No one was close enough to stop her. The way was clear.
She donned her helmet, securing it to her collar with ease. It, along with the hovercycle’s shield, would complete the suit’s job of protecting her from radiation and the Moon’s extreme temperatures outside the colony. Sanchez had pilfered it from the supply room for her. Such a sweet boy.
The mule sputtered on. Closer. Closer. Still no one. And . . .
All sound came to an abrupt end as she passed beyond the art-at’s shield. Exhilaration flushed through her like a shot of good tequila. The normally bleak gray of moonrock seemed to shimmer with solid silver. The wide-open space evoked a cry of joy. I’m finally free!
It almost made her wish the Moon had an atmosphere so she could feel the wind on her face. But seeing a clear horizon was more than she’d ever hoped for.
Her lips parted to breathe in her first taste of freedom, and . . . A tickle in her throat caused her to swallow, then cough. She inhaled, but where was the air? What was wrong? Had the dust clogged her collar’s filtration system?
Her vision shifted as lightheadedness swamped her. Oxygen came, but not nearly fast enough, and she panted between chokes while the area around her mouth tingled.
Silt! Her collar had never so much as blinked a fault code. Never. Why did it break now? This couldn’t be happening. She was so close!
She hit the brakes and rolled off the throttle, intending to turn about. Dizziness disoriented her and she fell off instead. Desperate for air, she clawed at the collar. Triggering the reset did nothing. It was dead. She peered behind her at the colony and would’ve cried out if she’d had enough air. It was too far. She’d suffocate before getting even halfway. Back to the bike. She had to get back on the bike.
Blackness loomed at the edge of her vision. Her lungs burned. She forced herself to crawl, not ready to give in.
A vibration quivered in the ground, subtle at first but growing in intensity. She focused her wavering eyesight. A vehicle? Someone coming to save her? Maybe it was Sanchez. The sweet boy didn’t want her leaving without him.
She dropped her head in thanks. It was too bad the Moon’s lack of atmosphere inhibited any sound. It would’ve been nice to hear the approach of her salvation.
