DMB Digest: Explaining Star Wars to My Kids
...who have never seen the movies but have steeped in their references.
“What makes the milk blue?”
“Was that ugly guy in the cantina drunk?”
“Why did Obi-wan just let Darth Vader kill him?”
We got as far as the opening text scrolling up the screen, “In a galaxy far, far away…” before my oldest son piped up with, “What galaxy?”
I said something insightful like, “Just a galaxy.”
“The Andromeda Galaxy?”
“One far, far away.”
“The Andromeda Galaxy is 2.5 million light years away.”
And that set the stage for what would most certainly be a non-stop-running-commentary-style viewing of Star Wars, Episode IV: A New Hope. My wife would have simply dismissed herself during the opening credits by announcing the need to bake banana muffins… or to unclog the sink.
But I was up for the challenge. I actually like talking during movies I’ve already seen. And so the cultural education began. Now you have to understand, my kids don’t like movies. My oldest doesn’t like anything even slightly suspenseful or hinting of jeopardy. So, even though I’ve got a 3rd grader and a 6th grader, neither had ever seen any of the Star Wars movies until this past week.
What we discovered was that despite the terrible plight of the rebels, my kids were not stressed or agitated in the least because they were fully equipped to understand (or at least question) everything they were seeing before they saw it. (They already knew what Tusken Raiders were. They knew about Mos Espa, Imperial Destroyers, and Bantha.) It turns out that when we enter a new situation with enough touch points of familiarity, we are freed up to think more critically about the why behind the what and who. And we aren’t freaked out by the jeopardy involved.
Most of the time, my kids are so worried about what is going to happen next, they completely miss everything else. Stress is the only emotion they take away from most movies or television.
A brief reflection on all of this led me to thoughts on the global Covid-19 pandemic. With so few touch points of familiarity in our lives, many of us have become totally distracted by the continuous flow of surface events. The main emotion we take away from this is stress. And we’re completely prevented from thinking through the more critical “why” questions.
Unfortunately, it seems the best remedies for this kind of pandemic stress are familiarity and knowledge. The former comes with painful experience. The latter comes with intentional scrutiny and critical thinking. Neither of these remedies are quick or easy. Perhaps Covid-19’s legacy will be one of preparing us for the pandemics to come by familiarizing us with our shared pandemi-pedia.
At the Desk This Week
After ploughing further into outlining the third season of The Green Ones, I realized I’ve forgotten way too much of my world building and the content of my other series/stories. Man, my brain just isn’t what it used to be. So this week I spent several hours touching up the second season of the Relic Hunters and refreshing my memory on the sub-plots and supporting characters (and better documenting everything for fast reference).
The third season of The Green Ones (I’m now thinking of it as “Awaken”) will have a good bit of crossover with Relic Hunters while steering clear of De Novo and the Lost DMB Files. I’ve also discovered I’ll have to do a little timeline tweaking to ensure that all three of The Green Ones seasons occur before any of the Relic Hunter seasons. (I’ll most likely have to move the date of First Relic back a few years.)
Once I get all of this stuff mapped out and fresh in my ole brainola, I’ll be able to start jamming out some primo fiction. Hopefully I’ll have the whole third season planned out by the end of next week. We shall see!
Outburst: Ep.2, Scene 6-Ep.3, Scene 1
(Click here to start at the Beginning)
Neca and I wait awkwardly by the door to the lift. Izel transfers the green liquid from a glass vial to a tiny leather pouch with a waxed cork for a lid. My tzotzomatli and pants are still damp, but it feels good to be in my own skin.
My stomach is full, and I’m rested. It’s only a week past a new moon, so even if the clouds break the night will be good and dark. After discovering the lack of windows in Immortal City, I understand Neca’s confidence in not being seen. As Izel seals the pouch shut, I regret not asking more about her role in the strange apartment building. I make a note to ask Neca about it later.
“Here you go, my dears.” She wipes off a dribble of the green liquid with her finger. “Xoxoctic, the color of life.” She places the pouch in my hand and covers it with my other hand. “Blood might be red, but life is green.” Without letting go of my hands, she continues. “Make sure you give the whole dose to Olin. Centavo will know what to do with the container.”
I nod. “I can’t thank you enough. I hope—” I’m not sure how to say goodbye to someone to whom I’m so indebted, and yet just met, and will most likely never see again.
“Me too. Me too, dear.” She smiles, and all my tension dissolves. “I’m sure you’ll succeed. I see it in you. You’re one of the green ones.” She embraces me.
I’m not sure what she means, or what she sees. I allow the contact to speak between us.
“Thanks, Izel.” Neca contributes a shoulder hug before the three of us separate.
It’s more physical contact than I’ve had in a month, and the only contact outside of my brother.
Izel winks at Neca. “I’ll see you at our scheduled time.”
For a split second, I swear Neca seems embarrassed. The doors behind us slide open, and all three of us ride down a level. No one is in the main lobby when the doors open. Izel remains on the lift. She smiles one last time before Neca and I steal into the night.
The whole way to the perimeter garden, I wrestle with why so many people are helping Olin and me. I still don’t trust Centavo, but Neca and Izel seem genuinely concerned. How can I pay them back when in four days I’ll be leaving? In the market, everything is a trade. Nothing happens for free. Even a gift incurs a subtle debt, and I don’t like being in debt.
We stop shy of the shield dome. The city is sparsely lit with an occasional electric light. No special attention has been given to the perimeter. The immortals don’t seem concerned or aware that scruffy chadzitzin are able to come and go at their leisure. The fact Neca is able to do so makes me wonder how well the shield dome actually secures New Teo from would-be attackers.
“You ready?” Neca whispers.
I stare through the copper-nickel mesh. The dark night reveals nothing except the shape of a few trees. “Yeah.”
We stride hand in hand to the wall. He grips me tightly. “Try to relax, and it won’t take so much out of you.”
I nod. Unable to see the expression on his face, I can see his eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners. With that one piece of information, I assemble the rest of his smile and squeeze my eyes tight. As the heat ripples through me, I try to relax. It’s impossible to distinguish where Neca ends and where I begin, or even the shield wall itself.
Short of total shock, I find myself able to enjoy the sensation. Then, before I can see or feel the outside world, I hear the nocturnal sounds of the forest. Much nearer, I hear Neca’s breath rushing past my ear. Seconds later, a tingling sensation returns to my extremities.
Teetering slightly, I let go of Neca and breathe deeply. Although I know it’s my imagination, the air outside the shield wall tastes sweeter. Tonight more so than ever. Plus, from here on out, the plan lies in my hands. “I think I could get used to that.”
“Oh? You thinking of adding smuggling to your academy resume?” Neca asks.
“Funny, but don’t be axnohtic. I meant the telekinesis.” At least I hope that’s all I meant.
“Yeah, women always use me for my abilities.”
I jog down the slope, away from the shield dome encasing the immortal half of New Teo. “Okay, yeah, not going there. Let’s just get this medicine to my brother before it’s too late. We’ll have to hurry to return to Centavo’s by sunrise.”
“About that,” Neca tugs me to a stop. “I know an above-ground route that will save us at least an hour.”
“But—”
“I’ve traveled it in the dark dozens of times.” It’s unreasonable, but I don’t want to follow anymore. I don’t want to leave my brother’s life in anyone else’s hands. Neca says, “Admit it, you almost got lost on the way here.”
“I did not.”
“Calli.” Neca puts his hands on my arms. “It’ll get us to your brother faster. I promise.”
I resent that he feels the right to touch me so intimately and freely, and talk to me as if we were the closest of friends. But he’s got a point. The quicker we get to Olin, the better. “Okay, let’s just get going.”
Neca cuts a gradual angle down the slope until we are out of sight from the structures within Immortal City. Fifteen minutes later, we’re jogging along a forested path, following the gentle curve of the shield dome from a safe distance. Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of the upper section of the dome on our left.
Neca moves more naturally above ground. I, on the other hand, feel at home with the closeness of the earth embracing me. Earth beneath my feet is good. Earth above my head, even better. Maybe this is why I’ve always been drawn to the mind pits.
For two hours we jog at a steady pace. By the time we stop, I’m drenched in sweat. Both Neca and I glisten in the occasional sliver of moonlight finding its way through the blanket of clouds.
“Drink.” He tosses me a canteen he’s been wearing over a shoulder.
Gratefully, I guzzle a third of it and hand it back. “Half way?”
He nods while gulping down another third of the water. After securing the cap, he breathes deeply. “Further than half, but most of the rest is uphill. There’s a small ridge.”
“I’m familiar with it.”
“We’ll have to move more slowly until we clear the rocks,” he says.
“Then it’s a straight shot to the shield dome?”
“Hopefully.” He loops the strap of the canteen over his neck and shoulder.
“Hueyi, and what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Phasing through the wall around Worker City is a bit trickier. There are a lot more eyes for one thing, but I haven’t been caught yet.” He ends the conversation by resuming our pace along the well-trodden path.
It strikes me as unlikely that such a broad-beaten trail would owe its formation to wildlife. Yet the thought of that many people moving freely back and forth between the distinct halves of New Teo astonishes me. It’s an idea I wouldn’t have thought possible twenty four hours earlier. How has no one ever been caught?
Neca interrupts my thoughts as if listening in. “Well, there was that one time. But it all worked out in the end.” He doesn’t offer any more information.
I don’t feel like carrying on a conversation, so I let it drop. I do, however, spend the next several minutes wondering what he could mean. Maybe Centavo paid someone off. Or maybe, I gulp, maybe Neca killed someone.
Occasionally fighters die in the cage. It’s not smiled upon, but it happens. Still, killing someone on accident, no matter how violent the sport, has to be different from…from, what? I swallow, realizing the severity of the actions I’ve taken over the last day—including my present situation.
If we stumbled upon someone right now, I’d have no choice. Certainly I too would kill if it meant saving Olin. Or would that be one more way I’m not as strong as Neca—all bark to his bite?
For the next half hour I imagine savage individuals leaping out from the forest and attacking us. Each time, I deliver a storm of blows, saving Neca from the clutches of death. Each time, the episode seems unconvincing, so I start it over.
The ground becomes uneven. We slow to a careful walk, ensuring each footfall doesn’t end with a sprained ankle. The trees thin until we are exposed along the rocky ridge. I steal a short glimpse toward the city. The top of the shield dome glimmers ever so slightly over my left shoulder. We’re making good time.
Suddenly, Neca stops, causing me to bump into him. “Someone has been here.” He stoops.
I scan the tree line beneath us. Nothing moves, other than the darting shadows of bats. “What makes you say that? By the looks of the trail, lots of people have been here.”
“This is Centavo’s trail, no unauthorized usage. And look,” he stands holding something in his hand, “someone’s been illegally dumping.”
“What is it? It looks like pottery.”
“A piece of a neuhtli jug.” He hands me the fragment before climbing a few meters down the side of the ridge. “Hueyi.”
“What is it?” I feel exposed standing on the ridge, so I crouch.
“Peyotl. It’s rancid, and there’s a lot. We’ve gotta get out of here, fast.” He scurries up the rocks.
I offer him a hand. Still confused about the danger, I hear a low growl emanating from the tree line behind me.
“Wolves,” we whisper the word simultaneously.
“They can smell the stuff from kilometers off.” Neca grabs my hand. “If we’ve got a clear shot toward the wall, they’ll leave us alone for the peyotl.” Slowly, we retreat along the ridge, away from the growling below us. Then I hear the rumble of another wolf—closer, between us and the city.
“What now?” I squeeze his hand.
“We fight.”
As I struggle to comprehend what Neca has just said, he stoops. Picking up a rock, he places it in my hand. The wolves seem to perceive the gesture as a declaration of intent. No sooner than I wrap my fingers around the rock’s edges, the low growl erupts into an angry bark.
Neca pushes off, and I spring in the opposite direction. The wolf charges. It brushes past my leg, missing with its razor-sharp teeth but spinning me off balance. I manage to land on all fours and just barely avoid smacking my forehead on a large rock.
A second animal barrels out of the trees. Its yellow eyes glint in the night. Holding my breath, I raise onto my knees and swing the rock directly for its jaw. The beast whimpers, letting up his charge a split second before he and the rock collide. Miscalculating, I strike him in the neck. Bones audibly snap from the force of the blow.
The wolf’s exposed canine catches me across the chest as his limp shoulder collides with mine and tosses me backward. I brace for the inevitable dashing of my head and hope I don’t lose consciousness.
Rather than a crushing impact, I’m caught up in a cushion of air like at the mouth of the cave. I bounce as if striking a spongy bed of moss.
As I tumble, the snarling of angry wolves is cut short by a wash of vibrating air. I slide down the edge of the ridge until I catch a foothold. My eyesight blurs. I can’t stop my brain from rattling. “Neca!” The word comes out of my mouth distorted and strange.
A fierce snarl, followed quickly by Neca’s own guttural challenge, reaches me on the front edge of a dark pulse—a ripple of shadow and emptiness. I hug the slope as an explosion of fur and shattered rock bursts from the top of the ridge and rushes past. Gravel settles in the wake. Larger rocks splinter branches further down the slope.
Everything falls quiet. “Neca?” I croak his name and am suddenly terrified that the dark-skinned chadzitzin boy has left me alone.
Unable to see anything from my current position, I test my limbs and discover they work. I scramble onto the ridge. No wolves. No Neca. A low gurgling growl sharpens my other senses. Slowly, I turn toward the sound. I spot a dark shadow in the shape of Neca sprawled on the ground. A single wolf limps toward it.
“Hey, wolfie!”
The animal growls louder, refusing to alter its course.
“Hey,” I shout, “your mother was a coyote!” I reach for another rock.
The beast lunges for Neca.
I don’t have time to stop it. I scream. I scream for the fighter, for the boy, for the friend I’ve just made. I scream for my brother. The night dissolves. The sounds and smells melt around me. And the dark morphs into emptiness in every direction, except for the shapes of the wolf and Neca lying beneath it.
At the far end of a distant tunnel, I see the animal slow its attack. I watch it stop in midair. It blurs around the edges. An explosion splits the air between us, and all senses shatter.
“Calli, are you okay? Calli?”
“Neca?” I jerk air into my lungs. “Thank gods you’re alive.”
“Maybe not for long. We’ve gotta go, and I don’t think I can carry you.”
“I thought the wolves were—” I cough. “Wait, are you calling me fat?”
“What? No.”
“My chest is on fire.” I lift my head to inspect the cut, but it’s too dark to see the damage.
“Calli, listen to me.” Neca shakes me lightly. “When I was out, what did you—how did you—” he lifts my head and points. “Did you do that?”
It takes a second to focus my eyes. When I do, I see a swath of destruction leading from my feet, down the ridge, and into the forest. “What? No, I—”
“Calli, if my outburst wasn’t detected, yours certainly was.”
“My outburst? Wait, I’ve never…if I did,” finally I understand the urgency in his voice. “Probes.”
Neca nods. “Can you get up?”
I try without thinking about it and succeed despite a dizzying surge of pain. My legs work. I’ll worry about the rest later. We limp along the crest of the ridge toward the distant shield dome surrounding Worker City. “How long were we out?”
“Less than a couple minutes, or we would have heard them already,” Neca says.
No sooner do the words leave his mouth, I hear the buzz of what sounds like a five-pound humming bird.
“Make that two minutes exactly.”
“We’ve gotta get out of the open.” Panic knots in my gut.
“The trail’s here.” Neca guides us off the ridge and under the cover of the forest canopy.
On level ground, we pick up the pace. The buzzing stops. Seconds later it starts again, indicating the nearest probe has found the site of my telekinetic outburst—my first real demonstration of ability. Something less than a sparkling success. At least nobody died. Instantly, I regret the thought and wonder if I’ll always subconsciously punish Olin for the death of our parents.
He’d been only twelve at the time, and yet his outburst had been magnitudes more violent than my piddly demonstration. Both of my parents and several others died. Somehow, I survived. Both times Olin has lost control, I’ve survived.
Then I remember the whole purpose of Neca and I being outside the shield dome. In a panic, I check the pocket beneath my tzotzomatli and find the pouch still intact. “How much further?” I huff.
“A kilometer.”
“Faster.”
Neca grunts.
We’re already running as fast as we can without slamming into a tree or tripping on a root. But if we get caught by a probe, no matter whether it’s from New Teo or a nearby enemy patrol, nothing will be left. Not a stitch of clothing. Not a drop of medication. Nothing.
I place a hand on my chest, six inches below my neck. The gash is bleeding freely and stinging with sweat. It’s serious, not life-threatening. If I survive the next kilometer, the biggest concern will be rabies—a common ailment in Worker City.
Branches rush past in a blur. They slap my face and scratch my arms as we navigate the trail in near pitch black. I find myself wishing for a full moon and no clouds. The probes track heat signatures, rendering the darkness a hindrance rather than a help. Why hadn’t we taken the caves like I had wanted?
We pass beneath an open section of the forest canopy. The buzz increases. I can’t tell if the first probe is getting closer or if it has been joined by a second. The hair on the back of my neck bristles. Chills ripple across my face. There is no time to look over my shoulder or second guess the instinct.
I drive my feet into the ground and lunge forward. Plowing into Neca, I send both of us into the underbrush. A pulse shatters the earth at our heels, buffeting us with a spray of fine dust and flipping us further from the path.
“Split up!” Neca gets the words out before he slams into the oversized trunk of an ahuehuetl tree that knocks the wind out of him at the very least.
I land in a soft pile of needles and roll instantly onto my feet. He’s right, of course. If we stay together, we’ll both die. If we split up, and there is only one probe, one of us might make it.
But when I start running, it’s directly toward Neca.
So far, whatever instinct I’ve been following has kept me alive. I trust that instinct to bring me back to Olin. An arrow darts past my ear. At first I think the probe is launching some sort of projectiles. Then I realize an entire colony of free-tailed bats has descended on our location to feed.
Swarming through the branches of the massive ahuehuetl, the bats confuse the heat readings of the probe. A blue pulse of energy disintegrates the top section of the massive tree and showers me with needles. Sliding feet first, I arrive at Neca’s side as he draws his first complete breath.
“I said,” he grunts as I heave him to his feet, “split up.”
“I heard you. Now shut up and run.”
The bats begin to disperse. When the probe gets its next clear shot, there won’t be time to know we’re dead before it has happened. Several strides behind us, the base of the massive ahuehuetl disappears, pulverized by a pulse. A spray of sap slashes across my back, and then the snapping of branches rushes toward us.
The outer branches of the tree knock me off my feet and pin me. Lying on my back, I watch the outline of the spherical probe. Its blinking blue eye swoops into the opening left by the felled tree. I hold up a hand, as if I could block its destructive force like deflecting a rubber pelota. I’m in disbelief. How can I die now? Like this?
Instead of nothingness, red lightning fills the sky above me. Sparks burst from the blue probe as it spins out of sight. A second bolt of red lightning splits the dark, and a third. The night comes alive with buzzing and sparks. My mind sticks, along with my body, until a hand tugs me out from under the branches.
“Now’s our chance.” Neca has extricated me, and we’re running in the direction of the shield dome.
Everything jolts and echoes. I’m watching myself from somewhere deeper inside. My legs pump. My arms swing. I’m not in charge of them. The next thing I know, we’re in the open.
The lightning storm behind us continues—a probe battle between opposing forces. My stunned consciousness reemerges into the moment. The red probes of New Teo must be battling those of an enemy patrol, rendering Neca and me of second importance for now. If the enemy is too far away to provide sufficient telekinetic support, the fray will end soon. Too soon.
The shield dome looms fifty meters in front of us, rippling with the heightened telekinetic energy of every masazin available in the mind pits. The battle has put the entire city on alert. My heart sinks as I consider what that might mean for Neca’s ability to phase through the mesh.
The ground shudders, answering my earlier question about the proximity of enemy support. They’re close, and they’ve come to fight. The temperature of the air increases several degrees. Steam visibly rises off my sweat-soaked clothing.
My father taught Olin and me that bridging energy from a massive telekinetic storm cooks the moisture from the air moments before it erupts. This one is big, at least twice the size of yesterday morning’s attack. And it’s focused directly at Neca and me. “Storm’s coming!”
“Just keep running!”
Of course, I do. There’s no other option. Neca must know we’ll never make it. We’re twenty meters from the shield dome when the enemy strike hits. Ripples of purple and blue light form around us. Imploding and absorbed into a single point on the dome, the bands of light rip past. I wait for the telekinetic energy to explode outward, disintegrating all matter within its pulse radius—including Neca and me.
“Keep running!” Neca yells.
Somehow still alive, I’m a meter behind him.
Neca draws within a few meters of the shield dome, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s not waiting for me.
“Wait!” I scream.
“Don’t stop!”
How can I get through the mesh without him?
He protects his face with his hands as he dives head first through the wall. There isn’t time for me to stop. Bracing for impact, I throw up my hands and close my eyes.
A hot gust whips my braid from my back and scours my skin. Still moving forward, feet no longer in contact with the ground, I roll to my side. When the impact comes, it’s with the ground rather than the mesh of the shield wall. I absorb the initial blow with my shoulder before rolling to a stop against another person. I open my eyes, and of course it’s Neca. “I thought you left me.”
“It’s Centavo.” Neca helps me to my feet while staring over my shoulder.
I turn to see the brilliant outline of the old man as he passes through the shield wall. The mesh ripples with the colors of the rainbow, like oil droplets in water.
“Go. Huatiani is in the area.” Centavo’s voice has grown stronger than before, angrier. There is no doubt it’s the same old man. “I’ll be right behind you, after I clean up this mess.” Beyond the mesh, Centavo lifts his arms slowly from his sides.
“We have to go,” Neca tugs me.
I resist, unable to look away from Centavo. “But he’s defenseless outside the city.”
“Centavo’s never defenseless, and if he tells you to do something, you do it. Come on.”
I hold out my arm, steam rising from it again. “There’s another enemy storm.”
“All the more reason to run.” Neca thrusts me away from the perimeter roughly. “If Huatiani catches you now, you’ll never make it to Olin.”
I stumble forward, placing one foot in front of the other. Neca is right behind me. Despite my longing to turn around, I keep running. When the second enemy attack hits, I hear the whoosh same as earlier. Purple light dances in the sky above the shield dome. This time the implosion is followed by a release—one that shakes the ground enough to crack the joints of the adobe buildings within Worker City.
I’m certain the old man just died, but why? To defend New Teo from its enemies? To save me and Olin? And if Centavo just died, that means Olin is alone, perhaps frightened. A frightened Olin means bad things.
“This way,” Neca darts into an alley.
Dizzy, I realize I’ve injured my foot either on the ridge or in the forest. Every time it hits the adobe surface of the sidewalk, I slip on what must be blood. I’ve lost a lot over the last hour.
A sickening thought hits me. If Centavo left Olin’s side, maybe he was no longer worried Olin could lose control. Maybe it’s too late. Swallowing a knot of panic, I reject the thought. In a matter of minutes, we’ll be together. We’ll still be alive. We’ll still be family.
“A little further.” Neca’s voice grounds me.
I focus on his braid, swinging back and forth slightly with his running. Even tired, even injured, he continues to move smoothly. I, on the other hand, feel like a hobbled ox.
As Neca helps me descend the stairs, he sees the bloody footprints I’ve left behind. “Come on, I’ll carry you.”
I want to refuse, but he’s not asking out of chivalry. I’ve already left a bloody trail for Huatiani to follow, right to the front of the building. If the old general finds it, the least we can do is force him to guess which apartment we’re in. I tear off the hem of my pants and wrap the material around my foot. When I finish, Neca swoops me up.
While not overweight, I’m not light either. As he navigates the maze of hallways, I’m left with nothing to do except worry and think of the irony. Less than a day ago, Neca carried my brother down the same darkened passage.
A day later, I’m still making demands of him. He’s still obliging without complaint. And still, I have no idea how I’ll ever repay the chadzitzin boy who’s already playing out the last years of his shortened life.
We reach the door to Centavo’s apartment. Neca swings it open, deposits me on my feet, and disappears toward the kitchen.
I focus on the couch where I last saw Olin. He’s still lying there as if he hasn’t moved the entire time I’ve been gone. Maybe he hasn’t. As long as he moves now, as long as it’s not too late…
I kneel beside him and rest my ear on his chest.
I feel it rise. His heart beats. “Olin, it’s me, Calli.” I snatch the tiny leather pouch from my pocket. “I’ve got your medicine. It’s going to make you better.” It has to make you better.
I slip my hand behind his head and lift him up to ensure every drop runs down his throat. I remove the cork, place my nose over the opening and sniff. The odor adds to my dizziness. I steady myself using the couch.
Worried I’m going to pass out, I focus on Olin’s mouth. I push down his chin and slowly pour half the green liquid. I wait for his involuntary muscles to take over. After he swallows, I pour the other half. “Listen to my voice, and find your way back to me.”
Finished in the kitchen, Neca takes a knee beside me. “Anything?”
I shake my head. “I know you can do this, Olintl. I’m right here. Just open your eyes.” I rest my forehead on his chest. I need you, you little brat. You can’t leave me.
“Maybe it takes a few minutes.” Neca wraps his arm around me. “I’ve got something to treat your foot.”
I don’t answer. Gently, he tugs off the dirty bandage and brushes something on the cut. It burns, but I feel it secondhand.
I’ve never been one to ask for much. Not from people. Certainly not from gods. And yet, lost in prayer, I’m asking for this. Give me back my brother.
Suddenly, Olin jerks to life. Bolting upright, he tosses me backwards.
“Olin, it’s me. You’re safe.” I want to feel relief. I’ve done it. My Olintl is back. But the expression on my little brother’s face frightens me more than his lack of consciousness. He looks me straight in the eyes and shakes his head. “We’re not safe. Not while he’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?” Neca asks.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re together.” I sit up and wrap my arms around Olin’s shoulders. “We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
Olin stands, lifting me with him. He feels strong, healthy, like nothing ever happened.
“It’s too late, he’s here,” Olin says. Before I can ask who, three loud raps nearly break down the door. As if reading my thoughts, Olin responds, “The general.”
END of Episode Two
No voice accompanies the pounding on Centavo’s door. Despite Olin having no rational means of knowing the caller’s identity, and despite him being unconscious until a few seconds ago, I don’t doubt he’s right.
Neither does Neca. “This way, quickly.”
Olin darts after Neca without looking to me for confirmation.
Another reverberating pound on the door, and I follow Olin. He ducks into an opening in the thick adobe wall.
“Here.” Neca hands me a leather satchel.
“Where are we—”
“Underground. Go.” I squeeze past while Neca concentrates on replacing the adobe block at the opening without so much as a scrape of noise. “We need to get lost, and quick.”
I scramble on hands and knees to catch up with Olin. “What about the ID burn?”
“Two hours. We can’t stay above ground that long, not with Huatiani on our trail.”
“Will he find the tunnel?” I shudder at the idea of Huatiani being so close—a man who would cut off his own foot if it broke the law. A man so efficient he replaced the entire ometeotl department of security over three hundred years ago.
“Eventually.”
I scrape my head on a low spot in the ceiling. “But he’s too big to follow.”
“That’s the idea.”
I’m already breathing heavily and sweating too much. Every few seconds, I clip the side of the passage with my shoulder. I realize it’s not the tunnel that’s shifting from side to side. “I’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Not much further,” Neca’s voice is calm and comforting. “Olin’s probably already there.”
At the mention of my little brother, I suck in a deep breath and focus on making steady progress. The light increases until I see the opening. I’m surprised it’s not blocked or disguised. Then I realize Olin must have opened it. Conscious for five minutes and he’s already out of my sight. I try to hurry, but my wobbly arms threaten to collapse with every plodding movement. I hear a voice—no, several voices—coming from the opening. “Olin,” I panic. “Someone has him.”
“Don’t worry. The worst that can happen is he eats one of Nenetl’s stale bean cakes.” Somehow Neca remains calm through everything. Through an attack by wolves, a brush with probes, telekinetic storms, the probable death of his teacher, and now being chased by the most feared immortal in Worker City’s history.
Maybe I’ve been so hung up on having a future, I’ve forgotten how to exist in the present. Suddenly, my elbow gives way. I collapse onto my face a meter from the opening. “Olin,” I call feebly.
“Calli, I can’t push you.” Neca is patient, but I can tell he wants to keep moving.
“Olin,” I call again, though he probably can’t hear me.
A shadow darkens the entrance, and it’s him. “This place is great. Aren’t you coming?” He’s genuinely smiling, as if nothing has happened over the last twenty four hours. For him, I suppose blacking out and crawling through a tunnel about sums it up.
I reach out my hand. “A little help.”
Worry creeps across his face. “You don’t look so good.” He stretches into the chest-high opening of the tunnel. Between Olin pulling and Neca pushing, I work my way forward. Olin grips me by the arm and pulls me close. “How long was I out?”
Now that my head is near the opening, I catch a whiff of the underground. Either I’m on death’s doorstep, or the last day has changed me, because the odor isn’t half as bad as I remember it. “You were out for a while.” I smile as Olin tugs me from the tunnel and catches me. “But not nearly as long as last time.”
I breathe deeply. My stomach growls. Stale or not, I’m hungry enough to risk one of those bean cakes. First, a drink of water.
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