We head down a ramp and file into line with hundreds of hungry Fringers. I shove my hands in my pockets again, keeping my head low. The smell of grilled vegetables and chicken streams out from the kitchen about twenty people away from us. This line can’t move quickly enough.
“Do all you Shippers wear fancy clothes like that?” Bobby touches the wilting, ragged collar of my shirt. The thing’s half-unbuttoned and spattered with dirt. Hardly fancy.
“It was a special day at our school,” Avery answers. “We’re not normally in suits.”
Bobby drums his restless fingers on his hip. “You go to school?”
She nods. “Of a sort.”
I glance around at the people in line in front of us. They stare back, not even trying to conceal their nosiness. All of a sudden, my heart races at the thought that maybe these people aren’t flaunt with us being here after all. Maybe it’s all a plot to fry us up for dinner or something. I don’t wanna be a burger.
Bobby catches me looking and shoves my shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. Just gawkers. I’ve brought people in before.” He turns and waves at the onlookers, who respond by questioning and criticizing him with unblinking stares. Thankfully, that’s all they do.
The queue shuffles forward. I try to change the subject. “So where do you guys get all this food?”
Bobby grabs a plastic tray from the nearest countertop. “Got a small farm up at north campus where the football field used to be, but loads of it’s scavenged from deserted towns. You should see our collection. Boxes and cans up to the ceiling.” He passes trays to Avery and me. “Every once in a while we get Skyship food. Pearl trades, Tribunal food banks… stuff like that.”
I crane my neck to see into the dining area. Rows of lengthy cafeteria-style tables stretch down the wide, carpeted room. The place is half full already, and mass loud. A whole bucket-load of eyes laser onto my face. I dart back behind a stack of dishes. I guess if a newbie showed up at the Academy we’d all be staring too, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable.
We pass under an old ratty American flag hanging from a banister that runs along the ceiling. No Skyship flag. No Unified Party emblems, either.
“Hope you don’t mind using your fingers,” Bobby says as we near the serving counters. “We don’t bring the silverware out too much.”
I look down at the line of plates filled with vegetables and hunks of chicken. Right now I’d lick the plate like a dog if it came to that.
“Not much to choose from,” Bobby whispers as a lady spoons food onto his plate. “Hope you like potatoes.”
Once we’re served, we make our way down a second ramp and into the dining area. I keep my attention fixed on the food on my plate, trying to ignore the rows of people staring up at us. Bobby drags us all the way to the end of the room, heading for two older men who sit alone in the corner. They’re deep in conversation, but Bobby squeezes in close anyway.
“George,” he taps the shoulder of the nearest guy, motioning for us to sit next to him. “Yo George, what’s up?”
The man stops mid-sentence and glares at him. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Yeah, sure.” Bobby grabs a piece of chicken and tears into it. “I got cargo for you.”
Avery and I exchange looks. Cargo?
George removes his glasses, rubs his eyes, and glances at us. “Ain’t never seen you kids around here before.”
I meet his wizened eyes. The guy’s got to be pushing fifty, with a receding hairline to prove it. There’s a curiosity in his expression that’s a little off-putting, like he wants to stuff us and prop us up in his room for display.
“Skyshippers.” Bobby’s voice quiets to a whisper. “Pops didn’t like me bringing them in, but what are you gonna do, right?”
George pushes his empty plate to the man sitting across the table from him. “Go see if they’ve got more of them potatoes, Jim.”
Jim nods, standing up and leaving the table. George leans forward. “ Again, Henderson? Thought you’d have learned your lesson from last time.”
Avery grabs a carrot from her plate. “Last time?”
Bobby sighs. “I met these kids from the Chosens. You know, runaways. Big deal.”
George scoffs. “Big deal? They were wanted by the government. You nearly brought the Unified Party right to our doorstep, boy.”
Bobby shakes his head. “It was the right thing to do. It’s not like they hurt anyone. Stupid government laws. Went outside of their work orders. They just wanted a place to hide.”
“What happened to them?” I ask.
“Government threatened to take out the town,” George mutters. “We turned ’em in. Had to.”
Bobby swallows a large chunk of chicken. “Still feel guilty about that, don’t ya Barkley?”
“We do what we have to so they’ll leave us in peace,” he grunts, “something you don’t seem to understand, Bobby. Draggin’ in strays like this.”
“They ain’t Unified Party,” he counters. “They’re just trying to get to Seattle. Told ’em you could help. Maybe.”
He frowns. “Is that right? Now what would two sky kids want to go to Seattle for? I thought the idea was to leave the Surface for good.”
“It’s not Skyship business,” Avery replies, “or government. We’re on a personal mission.”
He chuckles. “Personal mission? Personal suicide mission, maybe. The Colony don’t like strangers crossing the mountains, especially strangers from above. Shoulda snuck in down south, or out west over the peninsula. Don’t you have shuttles?”
“Not anymore,” I mutter.
“That’s why we need you,” Avery says. “The Colony lets you across, don’t they?”
“Because we’re of the same mind. We’re both Fringe. We look after each other. It’d never work with Shippers.”
“But we help you guys,” I reply. “We send down rations.”
“To get your hands on Pearls,” he says. “I don’t think y’all would be so considerate without that little carrot dangling over your head. Sure, it’s not like you’re government, but still… we’re very different people.” He pauses. “Why go to Seattle anyway?”
“I was found there,” I whisper, “when I was a kid.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re still a kid. Place’s been deserted for going on two decades now. I don’t see any lesions on your skin. No chemical stain.”
I tug at the chicken on my plate, tearing off a hunk and shoving it in my mouth. “I don’t know. My school found me when I was just a toddler, walking in the middle of the rubble. I don’t know my parents. I don’t know why I was there, but if I can just see the ruins… maybe it’ll jog a memory. Or maybe I’ll find something.”
Bobby stares at me, mouth agape. “They found you living in Seattle? Like, chemical wasteland Seattle?”
I take a long drink of water. “Someone could have brought me there. Maybe they dumped me. I don’t know. I keep having these dreams. They’re connected.”
George grunts. “That’s ridiculous.”
Avery scowls. “Why would we be here if it wasn’t true? You said it yourself… Shippers stay away from the Surface.”
“Nobody survived the bombings,” George says. “I should know. I had family out west. I’ve seen the aftereffects firsthand. Even fifty miles outside the city there were people dying from chemical burns. There’s no way a child could survive conditions like that.”
I shrug. “I guess I wasn’t an ordinary child.”
He runs a finger along his bottom lip. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really believe this.”
I nod. “If you’d seen what we’ve seen… ”
He laughs. “Thought I’d heard it all. You kids are something else.” He drums his fingers on the table.
Avery glances at me, then back to Mr. Barkley. “So… ”
“So,” he begins, “if I were to believe you… let’s say I even drove you over… there’d be no coming back. I need the space in the van for supplies.”
“That’s all right,” she replies. “We’ll find a way back on our own.”
“And if the government showed up-not saying they would-but if they did, I’d have to turn you over. I don’t want no trouble.”
I look over to Avery, smiling. “We’ll take our chances.”