“Dammit,” Roc says, as if just remembering something. “It’s the Sun Festival. Even trains won’t be running today.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, dreading having to hike another dozen or more miles through an intra-Realm tunnel which is probably full of sun dweller soldiers looking for revenge for their fallen comrades.
“Pretty sure,” he says.
“Why not?” Tawni asks. “Wouldn’t people want to be able to get to the best parties?”
Roc’s expression is thoughtful. “You’d think so. But there’s a lot of pride in one’s subchapter up here. There are buses to transport people within the city, but no intra-Realm travel is permitted on Festival Day.
“We have to check anyway,” Tristan says. “Do you remember how much further?”
“Maybe six blocks.”
“Move out.”
We walk faster this time, presumably because we all want to know whether our plans have indeed been foiled by a silly holiday in the middle of a war. Even Tawni picks up the pace, performing admirably in her heels. Two more clusters of sun dwellers pass us, but both are too busy laughing and carrying on that they don’t say a word to us, which is fine by me.
When we reach the train station, the truth stares us in the face:
Linked metal chains seal the doors.
Chapter Fourteen
Tristan
Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have remembered. Everything was going so well I got complacent, assumed we’d be able to just coast into my hometown on a golden train. Not today.
“We can hide out somewhere,” Roc suggests. “Wait until morning and then hop the early train while all the sun dwellers are sleeping off the festival.”
On the face of it, it seems like a good suggestion. We seem to be relatively safe here in our disguises, and soon no one will be in any condition to identify us. We haven’t seen a single Enforcer, as most of them have probably been sent to join the army. Deep in the Sun Realm, it’s unlikely that any of them are stationed here. However, there’s one problem:
“The Moon Realm might be defeated by morning,” Adele says. “If not already.”
The truth of her words ring in all our ears. Although the world seems like a happy, peaceful place in subchapter eight, in reality it’s a war-ravaged battleground. I know my father will be pushing hard to finish the siege quickly, perhaps desiring to make a victory announcement the day after the biggest celebration of the year.
“I agree. We can’t wait. We have to get there no later than tonight,” I say. “Any other suggestions?”
Silence.
“How far is the walk?” Trevor asks.
I cringe, dreading the thought of running all the way to subchapter one; for running is the only way we’d make it by the end of the day on foot. “Far,” I say.
Roc cranes his neck and stares at the cavern roof high above. “I think there’s a twenty-eight-mile-long tunnel that would get us to subchapter four. At least then we’d be in the right cluster. Then we could just take the Nailin Tunnel to the capital. That’s only a little over a mile.”
“So twenty-nine miles, not including the time and distance to get to the right tunnel. Even at a manic pace it will take us at least three hours,” I say, “and we’ll be in no position to fight anyone when we arrive.”
“Subchapter four…” Adele murmurs, almost to herself. Then, turning to Roc, she says, “Isn’t that where you said the garbage trucks might be headed?”
“Yeah, so?” Roc says.
I know where she’s going with this. “No, absolutely not,” I say. “It’s too dangerous.”
“No more dangerous than everything we’ve had to do this entire mission, and a hell of a lot less dangerous than what we still have to do,” she says hotly, giving me a look.
“Am I missing something?” Tawni asks, to no one in particular.
“She wants to ride in the garbage trucks,” I explain.
“I don’t want to. But it may be our only choice. You said it yourself—getting there on foot will be long and tiring.”
“But a garbage truck?” I say.
“Suck it up, sun boy,” Trevor says, “I’ve waded through some pretty nasty sh—”
“Fine. If everyone agrees, I’ll do it,” I say flatly, hoping someone else will disagree.
“What if there aren’t any more trucks today?” Roc asks.
“Did you see the amount of garbage piling up outside the chute?” Adele says. “They have no choice—they have to take it somewhere.”
“But we’ll destroy our new clothes,” Tawni says, looking down at her expensive dress, a look of horror on her face.
“I forgot about that,” Trevor says, brushing a bit of gray dust off his black Rizzo tunic. “Maybe there’s another way.”
“Now who should suck it up?” I say mockingly.
“I retract my previous insult,” Trevor says seriously.
Adele looks at us like we’re crazy. “We can just steal more stuff in subchapter four if we have to.” It seems she’s got an answer for everything.
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with all this stealing,” Tawni says, reverting to her role as the moral conscience of the group.
“You are the one who picked the lock,” Roc points out.
Tawni blushes, her sparkly makeup looking even shinier over the red of her cheeks. “Okay,” she says. “I’m in.”
This time I lead the way through the streets, easily remembering the zigzagging path back to the garbage chute. As we near the chute, it’s clear that the shipping door is still open, either because more trucks have recently come through or because more are about to come through. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
Creeping along the building’s wall, I risk a glance around the corner, into the garage. Two men wearing thick black gloves are hauling bags of trash from a conveyer belt to a truck, tossing them into the back one by one. The truck bed is already half full.
“There’s one about to leave,” I whisper back to the others.
“That’s our ride,” Adele says, her green eyes fierce and sharp, even more so because of the black makeup.
“Move when I do, as close behind me as possible,” I say. “Tawni, you’d better carry your shoes.”
She nods and begins unclasping them, her hands deftly slipping them off. “Ready,” she says a moment later.
I sneak another peek into the garage. The truck is nearly full now, and the men are engaged in a conversation near the cab door, which is open. Their backs are to us.
Without checking that the others are paying attention, I steal into the garage, tiptoeing to prevent an errant footstep from betraying our presence. I hear nothing behind me, which either means they’re not following me or they’re being equally careful with their footing. My heart is pounding; if one of the guys turns, there’s nowhere to hide. But they don’t turn, and I manage to safely reach the still-open cargo hold, indulging in a quick glance back.
The others are right on top of me, their faces white and focused. I turn back to the truck, clamber inside, and screw up my face when the rotten stench of garbage hits my nostrils. Trying to breathe out of only my mouth, I reach back and help Tawni inside. Adele, Trevor, and Roc pull themselves up unassisted. We’re all in, but we’re far from safe. One of the guys will be back any minute to shut the gate.
“We’ve got to get behind the garbage,” Roc hisses.
Fun.
Luckily, the trash is in big canvas bags, but it still makes for an unsteady and constantly shifting climb to the top of the pile. A few of the bags have rips and tears in them, spilling some of their contents onto the heap. Half-eaten food, like rotten apples, mystery meat, and spoiled unidentifiable gelatinous ooze, squishes under my treads, making me glad I have thick-soled shoes, unlike Roc. Tawni’s the worst off, forced to plow through the muck in her bare feet. The price of fashion, I think wryly.