“Dad . . . Sam. Are they okay?”
“Your brother’s fine,” Keith says. “He’s with your aunt and uncle in Michigan.”
His words take awhile to register. “Why isn’t he withDad?”
“Your father was injured pretty badly.” Keith lays a hand on my good shoulder. I shrink away. “He broke his neck, Melissa. He went into surgery before I left.”
“I need to see him,” I say, reaching for the IV in my hand.
Gretchen intervenes. “You need to rest.”
I glare at him. “Don’t suppose I can call?”
Keith shakes his head. “We’re in the evac territories. Even if we got a signal, it’d be too dangerous.”
Too dangerous? I almost laugh. “When can I leave?”
“You’re hurt,” he says. “And you’re flagged in the government system.”
“It was just a prank—” I can’t believe this. “Preston set me up. And you did, too. Why?”
“That wasn’t us.”
“Why are you doing this, Keith? I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend. I—”
A thunderous rumble interrupts him. The crate trembles; the glow through the slats intensifies. Mostly Red, but some Silver, too. More dragons. I can feel them milling about, hear their deep-throated groans and higher-pitched mewls.
The rumble subsides, enough for me to hear people someone shouting for a stretcher. Keith glances at me.
“Go, I’m fine.” I’m not sure that’s true. I’m not sure I’llever be fine again.
Keith nods, opens the crate.
James is striding toward us, cast in the brilliant light of the silver dragon that prances after him. I cringe. The thing glows twice as bright as any other dragon in the cave.
A dozen more reds crowd the floor. Most are dim. Several are bleeding. One flickers like a faulty lightbulb.
Their riders aren’t in much better shape. Several stagger down their ladders; a few lie hunched over, too injured to dismount. The insurgents offer aid with the calm proficiency of people well practiced in the art of war. Or at least its aftermath.
A pair of men rush by, Preston laid out on the stretcher they carry. Blood streaks his face, some of it fresh. His eyes are closed, but I see him give a weak thumbs-up to somebody before he disappears from view.
Keith hugs James. “How’d it go?”
“We got the kids at Rez Three into the evac tunnels, but the army met us at Four,” James says. He hooks at thumb at the Silver. “We were able to recover her. The others returned to Cave Eight to resupply . . .”
Keith shuts the crate. Their voices fade.
Gretchen says she’s going to get me dinner. I tell her I’ll live, that she should help her friends, which it’s obvious she’s eager to do. She thanks me, presses a bottle of painkillersinto my palm, indicates the location of the urinal bottle. On her way out the wall door, she looks back.
“You look a lot like her, you know?”
I almost choke on the pills. She meant it as a compliment, but it feels more like a knife to the heart. She must have thought I’d already figured it out. Maybe I avoided the truth because today’s already been hard enough, but I can’t avoid it any longer.
My mother was an insurgent, too.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
10
The distance between sympathizer and insurgent isn’t that far, I guess, but I never fathomed that Mom could be anything but Mom, doing her army work, protesting cruelty against dragons behind Dad’s back. But Mom never did anything halfway.
“You don’t have any more secrets up your sleeve, do you?” I ask Keith when he returns to check on me. Things have calmed down somewhat in the cave—I guess everybody’s asleep or licking their wounds—but I’m at full boil. “Dad’s not an insurgent, too, is he? Were you and Mom—”
“No, Melissa. I know this is a lot to deal with, but—”
“A lot to deal with? I’m God knows where, surrounded by dragons, lying in a—” I throw my
“Your brother’s fine,” Keith says. “He’s with your aunt and uncle in Michigan.”
His words take awhile to register. “Why isn’t he withDad?”
“Your father was injured pretty badly.” Keith lays a hand on my good shoulder. I shrink away. “He broke his neck, Melissa. He went into surgery before I left.”
“I need to see him,” I say, reaching for the IV in my hand.
Gretchen intervenes. “You need to rest.”
I glare at him. “Don’t suppose I can call?”
Keith shakes his head. “We’re in the evac territories. Even if we got a signal, it’d be too dangerous.”
Too dangerous? I almost laugh. “When can I leave?”
“You’re hurt,” he says. “And you’re flagged in the government system.”
“It was just a prank—” I can’t believe this. “Preston set me up. And you did, too. Why?”
“That wasn’t us.”
“Why are you doing this, Keith? I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend. I—”
A thunderous rumble interrupts him. The crate trembles; the glow through the slats intensifies. Mostly Red, but some Silver, too. More dragons. I can feel them milling about, hear their deep-throated groans and higher-pitched mewls.
The rumble subsides, enough for me to hear people someone shouting for a stretcher. Keith glances at me.
“Go, I’m fine.” I’m not sure that’s true. I’m not sure I’llever be fine again.
Keith nods, opens the crate.
James is striding toward us, cast in the brilliant light of the silver dragon that prances after him. I cringe. The thing glows twice as bright as any other dragon in the cave.
A dozen more reds crowd the floor. Most are dim. Several are bleeding. One flickers like a faulty lightbulb.
Their riders aren’t in much better shape. Several stagger down their ladders; a few lie hunched over, too injured to dismount. The insurgents offer aid with the calm proficiency of people well practiced in the art of war. Or at least its aftermath.
A pair of men rush by, Preston laid out on the stretcher they carry. Blood streaks his face, some of it fresh. His eyes are closed, but I see him give a weak thumbs-up to somebody before he disappears from view.
Keith hugs James. “How’d it go?”
“We got the kids at Rez Three into the evac tunnels, but the army met us at Four,” James says. He hooks at thumb at the Silver. “We were able to recover her. The others returned to Cave Eight to resupply . . .”
Keith shuts the crate. Their voices fade.
Gretchen says she’s going to get me dinner. I tell her I’ll live, that she should help her friends, which it’s obvious she’s eager to do. She thanks me, presses a bottle of painkillersinto my palm, indicates the location of the urinal bottle. On her way out the wall door, she looks back.
“You look a lot like her, you know?”
I almost choke on the pills. She meant it as a compliment, but it feels more like a knife to the heart. She must have thought I’d already figured it out. Maybe I avoided the truth because today’s already been hard enough, but I can’t avoid it any longer.
My mother was an insurgent, too.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
10
The distance between sympathizer and insurgent isn’t that far, I guess, but I never fathomed that Mom could be anything but Mom, doing her army work, protesting cruelty against dragons behind Dad’s back. But Mom never did anything halfway.
“You don’t have any more secrets up your sleeve, do you?” I ask Keith when he returns to check on me. Things have calmed down somewhat in the cave—I guess everybody’s asleep or licking their wounds—but I’m at full boil. “Dad’s not an insurgent, too, is he? Were you and Mom—”
“No, Melissa. I know this is a lot to deal with, but—”
“A lot to deal with? I’m God knows where, surrounded by dragons, lying in a—” I throw my
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