“Hmm. Well, regardless, some of you survived anyway,” Tristan says.
“S’pose so. We called our tribe the Heaters,” I say. So I tell ’em as much as I know. ’Bout living in fire country, barely surviving, the Fire killing more’n more of us each year; the Call, where sixteen-year-old girls were paired with guys for the sole purpose of baby-making. I explain how the Wildes broke away from the Heaters, how the Marked were formed, ’bout my adventures in fire and ice and water and storm country. How all kinds of people survived Meteor, forming their own tribes. Anything I forget to tell ’em, they draw out of me with questions.
While I’m talking, some of t’others, Skye and Lara and Hawk and Wilde, pop in and out, sometimes to listen, sometimes to eat, sometimes whispering their own conversations, but I barely notice ’em ’cause I’m reliving the past, almost like I’m creating history all over again.
When I finish, Adele says, “Wow,” and Tristan says, “Is that it?” but I know he’s kidding ’cause I told ’em a scorch of a lot of stuff. Days and days and days’ worth in just a few hours.
“Thank you,” Adele says. “It’s a lot to take in, but it helps. I hope I get to meet the rest of your people some—”
But she doesn’t get to finish that thought, and I don’t get to answer her, ’cause Skye comes rushing in, her eyes hard and her fists harder, and she says, “An Icer just showed up at the Glass City…and they let him in.”
~~~
We’re all peeking over the rocks, blanketed by thick skins that blend right in. It’s hot as scorch ’cause the sun goddess is still a long way from sleep. Sweat’s running down my forehead and into my eyes, but I endure the stinging so I don’t miss anything.
Nothing’s happened since the big doors opened and the Icer went inside the city. We’ve been mumbling the same questions back and forth and up and down and ’round in circles to pass the time.
Why’d an Icer go to see the Glassies?
Is he a Glassy spy, sent to get information for ’em?
Does he know ’bout the Unity Alliance, how Dazz and Buff are getting the Icers to fight with us?
Have they killed him?
Though none of us wanna admit it, it’s the last question that’s the most important.
When the sun goddess gets tired and starts her long journey home, something finally happens. There’s a whirring sound, like heavy winds are rushing over us, only there ain’t even the tiniest breeze to cool things down. Then, right ’fore our very eyes, the giant metal door in the side of the Glass City begins to open.
“Another group of soldiers looking for us?” I ask to anyone who might be listening.
“Shhh!” Skye hisses sharply, even louder’n I was.
“I betcha my whole skin of water that Icer ain’t dead,” I say. Is that really what I believe? Or am I just saying it to try to make it true? I think it’s what my mother used to call wishful thinking.
“Sister, I swear on the sun goddess that if you don’t shut yer tug-lovin’ mouth I’ll shut it fer ya!” Again, her saying that was louder’n I was.
So, though I’ve got half-a-dozen other things to say, I stuff ’em down deep, saving ’em for another time. Then I wait.
But I don’t hafta wait long, ’cause outta the door comes a fire chariot—what’d Adele call it? A cluck or truck or some wooloo nonsense—spitting up rocks and pushing a cloud of dust in its wake. And on that…truck…there’re a bunch of soldiers, all dressed in uniforms splotched with browns and greens. And sitting amongst ’em, like he belongs there, like he’s ONE OF ’EM, is that no-good Icer, who I suddenly wish were dead.
~~~
“What the scorch was an Icer”—Skye says it like it’s a curse—“doin’ with a bunch of Glassies?”
We’re back inside the hideaway now, setting in a circle. Hawk’s drinking fire juice and keeps trying to pass it ’round until Wilde gives him a look that makes him put it away right quick.
“Maybe he’s pretending to help ’em,” I say, “but really he’s spying on ’em.”
“That’s the searin’ woolooist thing I ever heard in my life,” Skye says.
I frown, chewing on my lip. Why’s she being so tough on me lately? Is it ’cause I gave her a hard time ’bout her thing with Dazz? If so, I’d ’poligize a thousand times—I was just joking ’round to pass the time.
“It’s possible,” Wilde says, and I give her a grateful smile.
“The bigger question,” Tristan says through his mask, leaning forward, his hands on his knees, “is where are they going?”
“Which means starting my mission as soon as possible is even more important now,” Adele says.
Now it’s Tristan’s turn to frown. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You can go with her as far as a rock outcropping near the Glass City,” Wilde says. “Then she’s on her own. May the sun goddess be with her.”
“Oh, she won’t need the sun goddess,” Tristan says. “She’s got everything she needs with her.”
Adele’s only response to that is a wry smile.
Chapter Fifteen
Dazz
All I want to do is run all the way to fire country and tell Skye and Wilde and the rest of my friends what has happened. That I’ve failed them. The Unity Alliance never had the chance to become a reality.
But I can’t, not when the message has already come back from the Glassies in the form of a dozen soldiers, dressed in thick green-and-brown painted uniforms, toting heavy black weapons—fire sticks Skye calls them—and wearing strange masks over their mouths. Yo told me what the message from President Lecter said. He’s accepted our alliance on the condition that we temporarily move to “the New City,” which I assume is what they call the glass-domed city in fire country. We’ll be protected by the Glassy soldiers as we travel there.
But we can’t go there, can we? We can’t abandon the Tri-Tribes, my friends, ice country. There has to be a way to cancel the alliance. A revote, a split decision, something.
Yo says it’s impossible. We all go or none of us go. The message also said if any Icers try to go rogue that they’ll be treated as traitors and killed on sight. For the better part of the morning several of the soldiers have been going house to house, checking to make sure no one’s trying to hide. The rest are keeping a careful watch on the perimeter. Yo says maybe it’s not a bad thing, maybe this is the only way to survive. But I heard the lie in his voice.
What choice do I have? If I try to run, I’ll be abandoning my family, and I might be killed anyway. And if I try to escape with them, they might be killed, too. But if I go along with this plan, at least I can protect Mother and Jolie, Buff and his family, Yo and Abe and Hightower. And the Tri-Tribes might win the war anyway. Then things will just go back to normal, won’t they? I could explain things to Skye and Wilde, make them understand the impossible situation we were in.
The only thing worse than lying to your friends is lying to yourself.
I glare at the Glassy soldier walking by and contemplate whether he’d shoot me if I chucked a snowball at his head.
Make that an iceball.
I head inside to give my family the bad news.
~~~
Jolie doesn’t understand and I don’t blame her. “Why do we have to leave?” she asks.
We’re sitting inside the house, trying to keep warm and considering what to pack for the long journey ahead of us.
“The leaders decided it was best,” I say, trying to keep from grinding my teeth.