Red Moon Rising by K. A. Holt

eyes flash up to Aunt Billie, but she says nothing about the swearing.
    â€œWell, see to it that you get it working. And quickly.Then, if you please, bring your mama back here. It’ll be a tight fit, but I think your one-man can handle it. Your mama and Aunt Billie will be safer together and must work the fields for the next few days. The rest of us are going to the cooling flats before any other gum thing goes wrong.”
    The room goes as still as a dune before a storm.
    Aunt Billie is the first to break the silence. Her voice is quiet with alarm. “The cooling flats? Now? Is it safe? The township will miss your presence.”
    Papa shrugs. “At this point, nothing is safe anymore. If we go today, we can hope the Cheese are satisfied with having Heetle as recompense and they’ll leave us be. We’ll be able to gather what we need and get back in time to hole up in case they return and lay siege.” He sighs deeply. “At least it’s early enough in the season that we’ll be the first to the flats and have our pick of the minerals.”
    â€œFirst of the season?” I pipe up. “It isn’t even the season yet. If someone like Old Man Dan sees us out there . . .” I don’t even finish because we all know what could happen. Charges filed, fines, penalties, Papa could lose his position as Sheriff Reverend . . .
    Papa slams his hand on the table and we all jump. “You have put us in this situation, Rae. You .” He points at me in case I’ve forgotten who I am. “We go now while we’re maybe safe from the Cheese— if they see fit not to raid us two days in a row—or we wait until the law dictates the season and lose all our ears or lives, or find the flats blockedby angry Cheese who would just watch us burn to death in the high summer.” He pauses, taking several quick breaths, and stares at me, his eyes boring into mine like light arrows. “So what is my choice here, Rae?”
    My throat has gone dry. He’s right. This is all my fault. “We go today,” I choke out, barely above a whisper. I clear my throat, but then say nothing else. Aunt Billie looks at the tabletop. Temple is watching me with soupy, watery eyes. I don’t want to see the mix of pity and terror and bravery in those blue, blue eyes. I turn to Boone, who looks like he wishes he could fall in a hole and tunnel his way back home.
    â€œI’ll . . . ,” Boone says, backing toward the door. “I’ll go get the one-man. And Mama.”
    Papa nods once and follows Boone to the door. He glances down at the pile of armor. “We’ll take this with us and sell it in the market. No need for it now.” I want to tell him Raj could use it. I could make new buckles so it would fit better. But I don’t say anything.

8
    IT’S CALLED A ONE-MAN for a reason, I think, as one of my legs hangs off the side of the seat, my skirt gathered in a lump in my lap to keep it from dragging and tangling in the scrub. It’s a struggle not to be thrown to the rocks as Boone drives us quickly over the prairie.
    â€œJust imagine a gum night beetle trying to fly a dactyl.” That’s what Rory would say, and her laugh would shatter the heat. Boone would whack her in the head, or try to race her if she was driving her own one-man. That giggle of hers . . . it would carry on the wind, infecting all of us, making us smile and forget why we were out here.
    Rae. Stop. No more Rory.
    The awful machine belches acrid smoke all around us;smoke that mingles with the dusty air and clings to the sweat on our skin like a gritty caul.
    I should not complain. These tiny vehicles are thirty summers old and survived the crash of the Origin . They were not meant for long-term use; their patched and reinforced aluminum frames prove this. They have no doors, no protection from the suns, and hollow, plastic wheels. They were only