response;
return: . . . . . . life. home. new home.;
comlink terminated;
//lognote: comlink terminated by PERSES;
“Are we interrupting something? Snake, anyone?”
I pull away from Lucas as Ro thrusts a pointed stick with a dead snake speared on it between us, his face streaked with dirt and grime. Tima is only a few steps behind him, stumbling and tired. Her hair is still covered with dust. She looks like a gray ghost.
“Interrupting? Yes,” says Lucas, though in his mouth the word becomes a curse. “As a matter of fact, you are.” I feel the warmth inside him dissolve at the sound of Ro’s voice.
As always.
I push myself free from the rock and stand tall in the dirt. I won’t let Ro see me squirm.
“My bad. So, snake?” Ro counters, grinning without a trace of humor. The long, dead rattler dangles off Ro’s stick, almost all the way down to the dirt at his feet. This time I squirm.
Lucas ignores him.
Tima blinks at me, embarrassed. “Sorry. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t. We didn’t know where you were. Doc picked up something weird on the comlink. Fortis says we need to move out.”
“And,” says Ro, wiggling the stick toward her.
Tima jumps back, rolling her eyes. “And Ro found—this reptile—wrapped around his feet and decided to call it dinner.” She eyes the rattlesnake uneasily, scanning the ground around us. “Now we should go. Before the whole rhumba shows up.”
“The rhumba?”
“Of rattlesnakes,” she says, matter-of-fact. “That’s what you call it.” Of course it is. I smile, in spite of the chaotic tangle of feelings surging around me.
Ro shrugs. “Relax, Rhumba. Doc is just paranoid. I’m not afraid of snakes or Sympas. Not like Buttons Junior here.”
“He’s not afraid of snakes,” snaps Tima. For a moment, the old Tima flares up—defender of Lucas, champion of her childhood.
I don’t blame her.
The air around us has gone ice cold, but before Lucas can say a word, a whistle echoes up from our campsite, shrill and urgent.
Lucas pushes past Ro, disappearing back in the direction of Fortis’s whistle. Tima rushes to keep up, all too willing to leave the snake—and the conflict—behind.
Ro shrugs and raises an eyebrow at me, dangling the snake playfully. I sigh and shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m still full from yesterday’s meal. And no, snake is not a vegetable.”
“That’s what I thought. Fine. I know how filling those half-cooked cactus strips can be.” We’re all starving, and we both know it. Ro follows me down the path, holding the snake as if it were a flag.
“They were fully cooked. Especially the ones you dropped in the fire.” I’m so angry with him, I want to tie that stupid snake around his neck until it strangles him.
“Sure I can’t interest you in sucking down a little snake snack? You and him, you know—the other snake?” He points in the direction of the path, where Lucas has disappeared. “The one you were already sucking on?”
That’s it.
I stop, stepping in front of him so that he stops too. “Ro. Leave it alone.”
“What, Dol-face?” He looks innocent but he’s not, and we both know it.
“Lucas and me. Us. Leave us alone. I know it bothers you, and I’m sorry. But you can’t keep acting like this. You and me, it’s not going to happen.”
There. I’ve said it.
His eyes flash but he looks away, quickly—like I’ve slapped him. Then, almost as quickly, he breathes, recovers and grins.
“No,” he says, evenly. “I don’t think so. And I’m not sorry.”
“No? What does that mean, no?” I’m irritated.
“It means I won’t stop caring about you.” Ro grins, confidently. “I’m a fighter, Dol. All I know how to do is to find something worth fighting for, and to fight. For it. For you. Deal with it.”
I feel my face reddening, and I don’t know if I want to kick Ro or kiss him.
Usually it’s both. That’s the problem.
“Just—don’t.” I glare at him.
“Not up to you.” Ro smiles, one last time.
“How about—it’s up to me?” I turn to see Lucas standing on the trail behind me, next to the cactus that still wears his comlink cuff.
He’s heard everything. I can tell by the look on his face.
Ro’s grin quickly fades into something much darker.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Tima says, coming up the trail behind him, already wearing her pack and holding mine. Brutus pokes his head over her shoulder, panting from inside her pack.
“I just have to do one thing first,” Lucas says, without even looking at her.
Then he punches Ro in the face, as hard as he can.
They lunge into a blurring mass of arms and legs until they finally disappear into a cloud of dust as tall as it is wide.
“Fine. Have at it. You deserve each other,” I say, moving away to stand next to Tima, who looks at me, exasperated.
The dust clears enough for me to see Ro, neck bulging, on top of Lucas. Ro’s eyes are watering, red with rage. He’s lost it—I can feel the heat that comes with it from where I stand.
Lucas struggles to breathe and I start to worry. You can’t take Ro in a fight. Not unless he lets you.
“Really?” Tima shouts at them both, her hands on her hips—but then I can’t hear her next words, because a louder sound drowns out everything she is saying.
A thundering boom that rattles my teeth, nearly knocking me over.
And a high-pitched screech—followed by a huge gust of wind.
Before I realize what’s happening, Ro’s grabbing my arm and yanking me down behind a boulder ringed with squat cactus. Lucas crawls next to me, dragging Tima down with him. Brutus is whimpering. I look over the boulder and I see them.
On the horizon, the lights flicker in the evening sky, like lightning in the clouds.
The lights grow closer, at a terrifying speed.
Black specks are drawing nearer, and they aren’t birds.
They aren’t anything living at all.
The glowing silver ships emerge silently through the dark gray cover, leaving eerie whirlpools of wind and dust in their wake.
Strangers, with strange energy.
Strangers in the sky.
I watch in horror as the ships descend quickly, heading straight for the campsite. A churning confusion of emotion and adrenaline surges through me, taking my breath away.
The Lords.
I can feel them as they come.
Lucas slowly raises his head to look, and I see his eyes grow wide, his mouth hang open in shock. “Carrier ships. Big ones. Battle formation.”