Waning Moon

  Chapter 8

  Later, after breakfast, I decided to show Will around the farm. There were secret places I couldn’t share, like the underground tunnels that led to the food storage containers we had buried, or the hidden shelter that contained enough biofuel to fill a tanker, but after a brief consultation, Sam agreed that it was safe enough to show Will the main layout.

  Will and I made our way through the open air tunnel that led to the livestock barn. Sam had constructed the eight-foot-high canopy to cover the distance between the house and the outbuildings so we could get to the barns even at midday without exposing us to the solar radiation that was at its peak at the zenith. It was one of several tunnels that led to various locations on the property. The intricate canopy system was constructed of camouflaged high density material that not only blocked out the harsh solar rays but ensured that from above, the house, the barn, and any other outbuildings were all but invisible.

  “The horses and goats stay out most of the morning,” I said, stepping out from under cover into the yard. It was midmorning, time to bring the horses in out of the sun before it crested over the trees and amped up the temperature by twenty degrees. Several chickens pecked the ground at our feet, clucking happily at ranging free.

  Will studied the makeshift solar barrier, his eyes wide. “Your uncle made all of this?”

  “Sam used to be an engineer for NASA before the space program went under.” I wasn’t sure if I should be telling him anything about my family, but his curiosity and the look of fascination and appreciation on his face were disarming, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of all we’d built here. I left out Sam’s military service and his connection to the Network, information that would cause no end of trouble if word got out.

  As far as our quality of life, we’d adapted better than most and were living pretty comfortably. I opened the barn doors and then the gate to the small paddock where two horses stood nibbling tufts of grass. “This is Shiloh and this is Phoenix.” I introduced the large bay and her mate as the two lifted their heads and whinnied. I pulled a carrot from my pocket and broke it in half, handing a piece to Will. The horses ambled closer to the fence and Shiloh nudged me. I fed my half to the mare, smiling as her soft nose tickled my hand. Will followed my lead and fed the rest of the carrot to Phoenix who seemed to be a bit nervous around my new friend.

  The thought of having a new friend sent a warm rush to my chest. My only real friend was Garnet Perkins, a girl a year younger than I who lived in town. We had become friends just after she and her father had moved to Stanton from Albany a year or so before. We were polar opposites. To her, life was all about having fun, while I took things more seriously. With her feisty attitude and “live in the moment” motto, she definitely made life more interesting, but we hadn’t seen each other much over the winter months. I was hoping to catch up with her on the trip to Albany.

  Another surge of anticipation flooded my thoughts. With Will coming along, I was suddenly less afraid and actually a little excited about going. If it meant that I got to spend a few more days getting to know him, so much the better.

  “What will you do if you don’t find your father in Albany?” I opened the second gate to the paddock and led the horses into the barn.

  Will trailed close behind. A solemn expression clouded his bright eyes. “Keep looking, I guess. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  The horses proceeded into their stalls and I checked to see if Zeph had filled their feed and water troughs before taking off to go fishing, his usual Saturday morning ritual. He would be gone for half the day, caught up in his wood carving. The thought made me remember something I’d found in the pocket of Will’s pants. I’d almost missed it when I tossed his clothes into the wash.

  “I forgot to tell you I found something of yours.” I dug in my pocket and handed him a small wooden whistle with a wolf’s head skillfully etched into the poplar. “Did you make it?”

  Will turned it over in his hand, a frown creasing his mouth. “No, my dad made it. He gave it to me a long time ago.”

  I felt bad for Will, not knowing if he would ever see his father again. I had scattered memories of my own parents, but at least I knew they were gone for good. And I had Sam and Zeph. Will’s expression was solemn, and I could tell he was thinking about his family. “It must be tough living on the road. What’s it like out there?” I asked, hoping to change the uncomfortable subject of his lonely plight.

  Will’s shoulders relaxed and his expression lightened. He tucked the whistle in his shirt pocket and followed me out of the barn toward the greenhouses to my next chore, talking all the while. “It’s actually not so bad if you can overlook the destruction. I saw so many areas abandoned after being devastated by storms, that I wondered if anyone survived. I walked for days and didn’t see anyone. I try to stay in the less populated zones, but everything is so overgrown, it’s easy to lose your way. It’s also hard to find supplies unless you go into the larger towns and cities. The government has done a pretty thorough sweep of any towns along the main roads and highways. Most of the old storefronts have been cleaned out. They’ve scavenged all the dry goods and merchandise and moved everything to the cities to keep people stocked up. Once in a while I come across ghost towns with empty houses that have canned food and clean water.” Will came to an abrupt stop when we entered the greenhouse. “Holy hawks! This is amazing.”

  I grinned, a sense of pride welling inside at the abundant growth before us. Narrow aisles wove between layer upon layer of vegetable beds suspended by cables from the high domed ceiling. Pulley systems allowed for me to easily raise and lower the beds, each one overflowing with greenery and veggies in various states of ripeness. I grabbed a basket and handed it to Will. “Help me pick the ripest of the tomatoes and peppers. I told Mrs. Higgins I’d bring her some.”

  Will took the basket, but his focus shot immediately to the back wall thirty feet away. “Is that an orange tree? I haven’t seen an orange since…I don’t remember when…probably since before…”

  He didn’t finish his sentence but went straight to the tree, mesmerized by the still green fruit and practically drooling as he reached for a low hanging orange.

  I was at his heels and grabbed his hand. “You can’t pick them yet. They won’t be ripe until the end of summer. If we get a large enough crop this year we’ll have enough to get us through the winter and still have some left over to bring a good trade when we go back to Albany in the fall.”

  He lowered his hand but I sensed his disappointment. “I have some jarred orange slices left in the house,” I said. “We save them for special treats, but I don’t think Sam will mind if we open them in honor of having a guest.”

  Will’s cheeks tinged a little pink as his eyes met mine, and I realized I was still holding his hand. I let go and turned my back, unable to block out the image of his cool grey eyes. I led him down another aisle and showed him how to pick tomatoes from the vines without bruising the fruit or damaging the vine. As we picked in silence, I felt the growing tension between us like a heat wave.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along on this trip?”

  “No, it’ll be good having company other than Josh and Luke Johnson,” I said, unable to contain the disdain in my voice.

  “I think I met them in town. Not very friendly,” he said, his expression darkening.

  I didn’t tell him I’d seen him being man-handled by the two Neanderthals. Instead I brushed it off. “They’re more bark than bite. Don’t worry about it. There’ll be enough other people around that I don’t think they’ll start any trouble. Besides, we’ll have Bo and Pappy with us.” I explained about the wolves.

  “A couple of wolves at our side should make for an interesting trip.” He cocked his head and smiled, sending a jolt to places inside of me that felt foreign and new. A rush of heat coursed through my veins making my hands tremble as I picked another ripe tomato. His basket nearly half full, Will had st
opped picking and was watching me carefully. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded and continued to fill my basket, ignoring the sense that he was about to delve into taboo territory. “What happened to your parents?”

  My pulse jumped, although I should have expected the question. I stalled, deciding whether to give him the rehearsed answer or trust him with the truth. The heat in the greenhouse rose a few degrees. “I think we have enough tomatoes,” I said, wiping a trickle of sweat from my brow. “The peppers are over here.”

  I led him to another aisle and pulled the lever, waiting for a third level bed that was loaded with green and red peppers to rotate through and settle in front of us, a quarter of them ripe enough to pick. It gave me time to regroup and formulate my answer. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but I trusted him. Maybe I just needed to believe I could trust someone, but it seemed unlikely that this drifter, this lonely boy with no one to care for him, could have any stake in causing us trouble. I decided on a partial truth.

  “My mother died when Zeph was born and my dad…was killed during one of the raids.” I didn’t want to say that my father died trying to keep the Industry agents from taking Zeph and me. I couldn’t tell him that my last memory of my father was watching him be tortured and seeing the life drain from his eyes as a nameless killer extracted his vital force the way only Life-takers could—a hideous and painful eradication of the very soul of a person. The face of the killer, shrouded in darkness, was the one detail that seemed lost forever. I swallowed past the hard lump in my throat. I couldn’t tell him how I’d stayed hidden in that tiny room behind the wall for two days, hugging my three-year-old brother to my chest and wondering whether I should just kill him then and throw myself into the river.

  During those dark days, when diseased bodies were piled up on the sidewalks waiting for the disposal trucks to pick them up and those who were left behind wailed into the night and wandered around half crazed, suicide seemed a preferable demise than waiting for the virus to strike and kill us slowly and painfully. If Sam hadn’t found me, we would have died there, one way or another.

  “I’m sorry.” Will’s voice was soft.

  I shook off the memory. “Sam’s taken really good care of us.”

  Will took another long look around the greenhouse. “I can see that. You’re very lucky.”

  I heard the sadness behind the words and my heart did another hard twist as I imagined what his life had been like over the past two years. “Maybe you’ll get lucky too, and find your dad,” I said with a smile, trying to sound positive.

  “Being lucky isn’t something I have much experience with.” He looked at his feet and let his hair fall over his eyes.

  I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well, maybe your luck is about to change.”