~~~
Something’s gone down in fire country. Rumorsare flying around like snowflakes in a winter’s snowstorm. Or evenlike a summer snowstorm, like the one we’ve got now.
It’s the warmest part of the year, but youwouldn’t know by looking out your window at the blanket of coldwhite coating everything, and the blurry, snowflake-filled air.
Buff and I are camped out at my place, ridingout the storm, drinking warm ’quiddy and speaking in hushed tones.I don’t know why we’re whispering, because Wes has gone out, stilllooking for a job, even in a snowstorm, and Mother, well, she’seven more gone, although she’s sitting not two steps away.
“People are saying the Heaters have beendestroyed,” Buff says.
I shake my head. “There’s no way…” I say,although I know anything’s possible around here. Like selling kidsfor cures.
“It would mean…”
“No job,” I finish.
“We were so close,” Buff says, groaning.
“Who gives a shiv about that,” I say. “Yo’llprobably let the last two payments go anyway.” From what we wereable to save, we handed a whole bundle of silver over to Yo, nearlypaying for the damage we caused in the fight.
“You think?” Buff says optimistically.
“Yah, but like I said, who cares?” I regretsaying it right away, because I see the hurt in Buff’s eyes. “Look,I know Fro-Yo’s is like home to you—it is to me too—but I’m justworried about how I’ll ever get Jolie back without that job. It wasmy only connection to the palace.”
“We’ll find a way,” Buff says.
I shake my head. “I don’t see how.”
“We’ll start by going to the border.”
~~~
So that’s what we do. Every day, we wake up,grab our nice, shiny King-provided sliders, and slide/hike our waydown to the borderlands, hoping to see something, to get some newsof the Heaters. Why? Because if we can be the ones to bring news ofwhat’s happened in fire country to Goff, maybe he’ll agree to seeus.
And if I can just get behind those palacewalls…
Then what? I break out dozens, maybe hundredsof children?
That’s the plan.
The first few days we see nothing at theborder. Just empty flatlands, hotter than chill, stretching off inthe distance farther than the human eye can see. So we venture alittle further in. Each day, we go a little farther. We strip offclothes as we go, until we’re down to nothing but our skivvies.
And yet it’s still hot. Amazing! I stilldon’t get how it can be so cold and full of snow up the mountain,and fire-hot down here, in the desert. To my smallish brain, itdon’t make no logical sense.
One day, when we’re trudging back into icecountry after a long morning in the desert, I see something. Aflash of movement in the trees. There and then gone. A bird maybe?Or a rabbit? I don’t know why, but it felt bigger than that. Notbear-size, but much bigger than some woodland critter.
I stick a hand out to stop Buff. We’re bothwearing just our skivvies, having left our clothes hanging on atree branch a little further into the woods. He raises an eyebrowquestioningly, opens his lips to speak, but I raise a finger to mymouth, quieting him. I point in the direction I saw themovement.
There it is again, something creeping amongstthe creepers. But whatever it is, it’s almost blending in with thebrown of the tree trunks, the earthy colors of the forest. Barelydiscernible, unless you happen to be looking right at it.
A twig snaps.
I charge toward the sound, feeling Buff rightbehind me. If it’s a Heater, I gotta catch him, make him talk to meabout what’s going on in fire country. This might be my onlychance.
I barge through a tangled thicket, gettingscraped and poked by a half-dozen jaggedy branches, barely noticingthe flashes of red on my skin.
More twigs are snapping in front of me, as myquarry realizes he’s being chased, and has chosen haste overstealth. I follow the sound, grabbing tree trunks and swingingaround them to increase my momentum. I can see him now, definitelya Heater, wearing brown skins that cover his arms and legs, as ifhe’s expecting it to get cold real soon. He’s fast too, cuttingamongst the trees and bushes like a deer.
But he don’t got nothing on me. I grew up inthe forest, I know how it moves, how it breathes, where to expectthe roots to jump out at you.
I close in.
His head bobs, his short dark hair duckingaround trees, picking a path through the forest.
Almost close enough to grab.
I’m about to dive when—
He whirls around, stopping so quickly Ialmost bash into him. Except…
The him’s a her.
I look the Heater woman over from head to toein an instant, and I can’t stop my eyes from stopping on her chest,which pushes her coat outward in a feminine curve. “You’ve got…butthose are…I thought you were…” I say eloquently.
She looks at me with dark, mesmerizing eyes,her lips turned up in a fierce grin. “Yeah, and I got one of thesetoo.” Before I have a chance to even think about ducking, she decksme in the head with a fist that I swear is made of stone.
My last thought before my vision goes black:she hits harder than me.
Chapter Fourteen
I wake up beaten bya girl. But she was a Heater, so I don’t mind so much. I don’t evenmind the headache, which pounds like an angry drummer on myskull.
A leaf rests on my lips, which I blowoff.
Wow! I think. Who was that? A Heater,obviously. But ice, was she ever—
“Urrrr,” someone moans nearby.
“Buff?” I say.
“Yah.”
“You breathin’?” I ask, sitting up, holdingmy head to stop the forest from spinning.
“Nay,” Buff says, lying flat on his back nextto a large tree.
“What happened to you?” I ask, wondering ifthe Heater girl took him down too. I’m kind of hoping she did,because that would be even more impressive. I mean, we’re not thebest fighters in the world or anything, but I like to think we’rebetter than most. Although that might just be my pride talking.
“Not sure,” Buff says, trying to lift hishead up, but thinking better of it and resting it back on theground. He looks funny wearing just his underwear.
“Was it the girl?” I ask.
“Girl?” Buff says. “What girl?” He’s speakingto the tops of the trees.
I drag myself over to him, so I can see hisface. There’s dried blood in a line from his split lip to his chin,and one of his eyes is purple and puffy. I wonder how it comparesto my face.
“You look like chill,” I say.
“What girl?” Buff repeats.
“The one I was chasing. I thought she was aguy, but then she turned, all short-haired and fierce. That’s whenshe hit me.”
“You got hit by a girl?” Buff saysincredulously.
“Not hit, Buff. Knocked out. She hits harderthan you do!”
Buff looks at me with the one eye he’s ableto open. Then he starts to laugh. “You got beat up by agirl?”
I shake my head. “She’s probably the one whogot you, too. She’s crazy-tough. Unlike any Icer woman, that much Ican tell you.”
“She’s not the one who got me,” Buff says,squinting his one eye, like he’s trying to remember something. “Iwas right on your tail, doing my iciest to keep up with the manicpace you were plowing through the woods, when something darkdropped from over my head, leaping from the trees. This wasn’t nogirl, Dazz, no one so easy to beat as that.”
“She wasn’t easy to beat,” Iinterrupt.
He shakes his head again. “Anyway, this wasdefinitely a guy, but not like the Heaters we’ve seen. He was cutlike stone, brown-skinned, but covered in dark markings, like somekind of wild man. He was shirtless, but had a mess of skins overhis shoulder. And he hit harder than some sissy-eyed Heater girl.He knocked me flat into tomorrow with a left and a right.”