Sky on Fire Read online

  “Benadryl. Take four.” He looked around and his eyes caught mine. “You, there. Can you get your friend a glass of water?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Glasses in first cabinet there and water’s in the corner. Not too much water at first, you kids. Take two sips, then wait a moment. Then two more and so on. Otherwise you’ll all retch.”

  I opened the shelves. It seemed like it had been years since I opened a kitchen cabinet and looked at stacks of dishes and glasses standing neatly in a line.

  I took a jelly glass from the shelf. It had cherries painted on it and a yellow stripe around the rim.

  Against the wall there was a large spring water bottle on a stand.

  “Can I have some water, too?” Sahalia asked. “Please?”

  Her voice was funny and I saw she was crying.

  “Of course. You all need water right away. And food, too. We’ll get to that. First I have to help this one. And you have to get cleaned up.”

  My hand shook as I filled the jelly glass. I took two sips.

  It was so clean, that water. I felt it go into my chest and through my whole, parched body, it felt like.

  Sahalia had come next to me and I gave her the glass. She took a long drink.

  “Can we have some, too?” Batiste asked.

  I went over to him and let him drink from the glass. Then Ulysses had some and by that time there was none left for Niko.

  “There are enough glasses for everyone, you kids,” Mario crabbed.

  But we were used to sharing. We didn’t care.

  I refilled the glass and took two more sips. Then I walked over and gave it to Niko. His hands were bloody and blistered.

  “Thanks,” he said. His voice was like gravel.

  “Fella, what’s your name?” Mario asked me.

  “Alex Grieder,” I told him.

  “Well, I’m Mario Scietto. You seem to have your wits about you. You want to help me with this one?” He nodded toward Max.

  “Max,” I supplied. “Sure.”

  “You, missy!” Mario said to Sahalia. “There’s a shower in the back.”

  “Oh my God, really?” Sahalia asked, perking up.

  “It’s on a timer. You can each have two minutes. Hot water and everything, but two minutes is all, you hear me? It’s well water, and it’s a good deep well, but the hot water heater takes too much power.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And be smart about it. Use soap and shampoo and scrub ’til you’re clean. Don’t waste water—it’s the only shower you’re going to get.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And put your underthings in a bag, too. The lot of you stink to high heaven. Put those boys in first and watch over them. When they get out, there’s clean clothes you’ll find in the dresser back there. Put them in some of my pajamas, you hear. And there’s some women’s clothes you can use, for yourself.”

  “Come on, you guys,” Sahalia said, herding Batiste and Ulysses to their feet.

  No arguments from them—they went off to the back, stumbling with tiredness, but excited to get clean.

  I glanced at Niko. He was already asleep.

  “Now, we’re going to remove your friend’s layers and then we’re going to clean and treat his wounds,” Mario said. “Do you think you can help me to do that?”

  I nodded.

  “Good boy.”

  I almost fell asleep a couple times, but I helped Mario bathe and bandage Max’s feet.

  There was some Troxoidal in one of the caddies. I remembered it as the demi-steroid Jake had been handing out to speed healing.

  “This might help him,” I said, showing Mario the pack.

  I said it like a fact, but it was more of a question.

  “Good thinking,” Mario told me, examining the pack. “Adult dosage is two tabs every six hours. Let’s give him half that.”

  So I popped out a pill and put it under Max’s tongue. It melted almost right away. It was still a little bloody in there, in the spit.

  * * *

  Sahalia, Batiste, and Ulysses had all showered by the time we got Max’s feet wrapped up.

  “Wish I had a bathtub,” Mario muttered as he finished wrapping Max’s feet in gauze.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Well, I still gotta get Max here clean. He’s going to trigger the air filter with all this filth.”

  He lifted the seat of the couch opposite us. The whole couch had a storage space under the seat.

  Pretty cool. I guess in a bomb shelter every inch counts.

  The storage space was filled with blankets. He took out a metallic blanket. Like the one that Niko brought you, Dean, back at Greenway after the hailstorm. Do you remember?

  He wrapped the blanket over Max.

  “Maybe that’ll help,” he said to himself. Then he tucked one over Niko’s sleeping body for good measure.

  I got the feeling that he cared more about getting the air filter to turn off than he did about their warmth, but I didn’t begrudge him that.

  “I could take a look at your air-filtration system,” I offered. “I’m good with power systems.”

  “Nope, I don’t want you poking around back there.” He glanced at a metal door at the end of the bunker. It probably led to a machine room of some kind.

  Then my stomach growled. Really loud.

  “What’s that you say?” Mario asked.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “No, it was just—”

  My stomach made another sound.

  “You’re growling at me. What kind of thing is that to do, after all I done for you?”

  I looked at him. Was he serious? Was Mario actually mad at me?

  No, he was joking. His eyes were twinkling. He gave my knee a slap.

  I tend to read machines better than I read people.

  “Go hop in the shower. While you clean up, I’ll get some food ready.”

  * * *

  It was a feast. To us, anyway.

  Lentil soup, brown rice, graham crackers, and applesauce.

  Batiste and Ulysses were both in Mario’s pajamas. Sahalia was wearing some kind of muumuu she’d found in the bunkroom. She made it look cool, somehow.

  I had on a white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

  We all sat around the table (the table was just beyond the kitchen, but before the bunkroom) and grinned at one another.

  Mario busied himself fussing in the kitchen and both telling us not to eat too fast and also to eat more at the same time.

  We kept offering Mario some soup, but he waved us away.

  “I hate that lentil soup,” he grouched. “I’m glad to give it to you. Now, I won’t have to eat it.”

  “More, please,” Ulysses said, holding out his bowl.

  Mario ruffled Ulysses’s hair.

  He could be nice, when he wasn’t barking out orders or yelling at us about hot water.

  Just as we finished eating, Niko woke up.

  Mario sent him right to the shower.

  While Niko was in the shower, Mario decided we needed to get Max clean, too. Mario and I stripped Max down to his undies, which was weird since Max was totally konked out. But he really did need to get clean. He had so many blisters and open sores—I knew he was at risk of infection.

  Sahalia helped me to carry Max to the shower where we basically handed him to Niko, who was just rinsing off.

  Niko held Max while I lathered him up.

  Mario had taped plastic Baggies over Max’s bandaged feet, but blood from his face and his other blisters went swirling down the drain along with grit and general filth. I had had plenty of that, too, during my shower.

  Eventually the water went clear, though it did take longer than two minutes. Mario looked the other way on that one.

  “Lay him down on the last bunk,” Mario directed when the shower was done. He had sealed Niko’s and Max’s clothes in a bag.

  Niko walked out of t
he shower wet and completely naked and lay Max in the bunk.

  I admire Niko. Sometimes I don’t know how he does it. He didn’t seem to care at all that Sahalia could see his naked everything. I would have rather died.

  The air filter, finally, turned off.

  “That’s a relief,” Mario said.

  * * *

  The bunks were long and narrow. We could fit two kids on each, toe to toe. Sahalia took the first one with Ulysses at her feet. I took the one above them.

  I got into bed and it felt like heaven. To be safe and warm again was the best feeling in the world.

  Mr. Scietto came over and tucked me in. It was cute. And I kind of liked it.

  “Mr. Scietto?” I asked quietly.

  “Yes?”

  “Do we really have to leave tomorrow? I just wanted to know.”

  “We’ll see, Alex. I don’t know. It depends on the power system.”

  “If we could stay for a couple more days, I know Max would get better.…”

  Mr. Scietto did that corny old bit where he pretended to grab my nose.

  “You’re a good boy. You follow directions and you’re polite,” he said. “Maybe you should think about staying with me. I have enough provisions for two, to last us near seven weeks, if we’re careful. I rather think the mess upstairs will be sorted by then.”

  It was nice, to be asked. I said I would think about it.

  * * *

  But I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I did like the idea of working on his system. And I didn’t want to go back into the violent, horrible world above.

  But I didn’t really think about it. Not for very long, anyway.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ALEX

  17–10 MILES

  I totally blew it. I blew it for us.

  The air filter came on. That’s all.

  It was the middle of the night and everyone was asleep and I knew Mr. Scietto would be upset it was on again, so I just thought I would take a look at the system. I figured there had to be a way to shut it off manually.

  I went quietly to the door to the machine room and it came right open.

  Then I heard Mario’s voice say, “Stop! No!”

  But it was too late.

  I saw what was inside.

  * * *

  Now he’s packing things. I can hear him in the dark, muttering to himself and cursing. He’s bustling all around, opening drawers. A little while ago he was back here in the bunk area, taking clothes out of a drawer.

  He would have let us stay for a few more days, I just know it.

  He would have let us stay until Max could walk again.

  But I had to go looking in the machine room. And I saw her body there.

  All wrapped up like a mummy.

  His wife. It had to be.

  The shape of a body is the shape of a body. You cannot pretend you didn’t see it or that you do not recognize it for what it is. Even if you really, really want to.

  Mario scurried over and shut the door.

  “Nosy, nosy, nosy!” he whispered. “You had to go poking around!”

  “What’s going on?” came Niko’s voice, instantly alert.

  “What’s wrong?” said Sahalia.

  “Nothing,” I said softly. “I just opened the wrong door. Everyone go back to sleep.”

  They were quiet after a moment.

  Mario gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen. He glared at me for a long moment. I noticed he was trembling.

  Then he whispered, “I built this place for us to share, me and Judy. I wasn’t going to stay here without her. She couldn’t make me promise and I won’t do it!”

  I tried to talk to him, to make him understand that I wouldn’t tell about … Judy.

  But he just pointed toward my bunk.

  * * *

  In the morning I saw he’d laid out all this stuff for us to take with us. A set of clothes for each kid. Three new backpacks that were loaded with water and these protein shakes you can drink with a built-in straw so Max and Niko can even drink them on the road.

  And he’d cleaned our boots and masks.

  He does care about us, but he’s making us leave.

  Niko took the news very well.

  He just nodded and said, “You gave us more than you said you would and we’re thankful.”

  While we all got ready, I saw Niko hand Mario a letter. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I bet the letter is for Josie. I don’t know how Niko thinks that Mario would come across Josie. Chances are better that she’d find us on the road. But, I guess it can’t hurt to be prepared.

  After Mario showed Niko all the stuff he was giving us, Niko thanked him again.

  “Do you have any rope?” Niko asked him.

  “What for?” Mario asked.

  “I want to figure out a way to rig up a carrier of some kind for Max. I thought I could tie him, somehow, to my back.”

  At this, Mario got quiet.

  “Well, I was thinking … maybe Max should stay here with me.”

  It took us a moment for his words to soak in and then there was a group recoil, like he’d puked or something.

  Ulysses cried out and Batiste shrieked no and Sahalia started yelling her head off.

  “I know you don’t want to leave him.” Mario tried to speak over the loud protests but it was no good. “SIMMER DOWN!” he shouted. “I know you all don’t like the idea, but maybe Max would like to stay. Why don’t we ask him?”

  From the back, Max shouted weakly, “Not a chance in hell.”

  So Mario Scietto finally came to understand that we were not a group you could divide.

  * * *

  We walked.

  It was better than before. For one thing, the road was pretty flat and straight. Also, we were rested, well fed, and had new clothes. Old boots but new clothes.

  Mario had told Niko which houses in the development might have a stroller. Niko had found a good stroller, too. A jogging stroller. If Max felt embarrassed to be pushed along like a baby, he didn’t mention it. He was all wrapped up in a blue-and-orange Denver Broncos rain poncho Mario had given us.

  We were walking on a road called Gun Club Road, which seemed sort of ominous, but the area there is flat and blah. Just mile after mile of nothing. No houses or buildings or rest stops.

  Of course, there still were cars on and around the highway and cars were scary. Someone could be hiding in them, so we had to approach each one carefully. But mostly they were molded over and everything was quiet. It was deserted.

  Gun Club Road runs fairly close to 470, so when we’d get close to the highway we would see some clusters of cars on the edge, but that was fine.

  * * *

  We walked and walked and walked. At first, I had thoughts in my head, but then the trudge, trudge, trudge of my feet on the road was so rhythmic, my brain stopped its spinning.

  All there was was one foot in front of the other.

  We might live. We might die. But it seemed like we’d never stop walking.

  * * *

  After many hours, Ulysses asked Niko to tell a Mrs. Wooly story.

  “I can’t,” Niko said.

  “Why not?” Max asked.

  “It makes me too sad.”

  “I know why,” Batiste said, huffing a little from our pace. “You think she’s dead.”

  “No!” Ulysses protested. “Mrs. Wooly?”

  “Please, Niko, please? I’m so tired,” Max complained.

  “What are you tired from?” I snapped. “You’re getting pushed in a stroller!”

  “Aargh. Okay, everyone, be quiet!” Niko said. His voice sounded cold coming through the transmitter in the air mask.

  “Mrs. Wooly’s going to come down this road we’re on,” he said.

  “What will she be driving?” Max asked.

  “A van.”

  “What kind of van?”

  “Oh my God … She’ll be driving a … a Kia Sportvan.”

  �
�Red?” asked Max. “With a sunroof?”

  “Red, with a sunroof. And she’ll say, ‘I was just going to get you at Mr. Scietto’s house. I knew he was taking care of you there while I got this van.’”

  “How’d she get the van, anyway?” Max asked.

  “Well, that’s the reason she’s taken so long.”

  “What do you mean?” Batiste asked.

  “She had to earn the money to buy the van.”

  “What’s she been doing, then?” Max asked.

  “I don’t know,” Niko said.

  He had to push the stroller up over a little hill and the soggy ground was giving him trouble.

  “Maybe she’s been stealing it from people,” Max said.

  “Or maybe she dug a pit and trapped some people,” Batiste added.

  “Ugh, never mind,” Niko snapped.

  There was quiet for a while.

  And I just thought, step, step, step.

  “How much farther?” Batiste or Max or Ulysses would ask.

  “Awhile,” Niko would answer.

  That happened about 20 times.

  Step, step, step.

  Ulysses started crying softly.

  It wasn’t a cry like he was asking for attention. Just pure misery.

  And suddenly Sahalia’s voice rang out.

  She has a good voice, kind of high and gravelly, like a punk-rock girl.

  I think it was a rock song, but it was a little hard to tell, just her voice alone on the wind.

  These were the words:

  Well, now I sat

  on the floor of that pub.

  That dirty floor

  is where I sat.

  And my old friend

  came to my side.

  And he knelt down

  where I was at.

  She’s gone and left,

  I cried out loud.

  I guess I’m just

  a hopeless case.

  And so my friend,

  he cursed her name.

  And then he slapped

  me on the face.

  He said: Get up, get up, get up, m’boy.

  Get up now, lad, get up!

  She’s gone for good, I heard you say.

  But you’ll not die today, today.

  No, you’ll not die today.

  He walked me out,

  onto the street.

  The icy air,

  it burned my throat.

  I said let me grieve.

  He laughed at that.