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  Darius shook his head. “Any idea who?”

  “A woman our age to the north, near the front of the colony. I didn’t know her.” Elmer shook his head. “And a few Crop Tenders, a dozen alleys west.”

  “It is a shame.”

  Darius looked around, as if he might catch a glimpse of Gideon and his men, but they were gone. For most of the day, they would direct the clean-up, tally the dead, and oversee the handout of straw, along with their Watchers. Likewise, they would assess the damage to the crops, while the Crop Tenders saved what they could.

  “I am sad about the deaths, but the destruction of the crops will make for even hungrier stomachs, which could lead to more casualties,” Elmer said.

  Darius knew that was true. They might have a surplus for a day or two, but a meal today meant a deficit tomorrow.

  Elmer said, “I suppose we will have a ceremony to attend tomorrow morning.”

  Darius nodded.

  “Will I see you there?” Elmer asked.

  “Possibly,” Darius said. “Depending on how my leg feels.”

  Elmer nodded, but he didn’t ask any more probing questions.

  **

  Darius headed in a westerly direction, taking a different route home. A few people looked over, tentatively waving. In one doorway, a mother scolded a child who had exited a dwelling without shutting the door. The child skirted away, avoiding the mother’s reprimand. Catching the child’s attention, Darius raised his cane and smiled.

  He hobbled on.

  When he was halfway down the alley, Darius slowed to a stop next to a gap in the houses, close enough that he could see through the clouded next alley. He stuck close to the wall of the closest dwelling, verifying that no one paid him any mind.

  Through the alley, he glimpsed the squalid, dilapidated house that he’d come to find. A wave of relief washed over him as he found the house standing. The door was shut. He watched for a while until the door opened and a woman thirty years his junior popped out, holding a shovel. She kept her head down as she walked to a mound of sand on the side of the house, scooping it up and depositing it into a pushcart. Later, Darius knew, she would bring it to a dump area closer to the cliffs, where The Watchers would bring it out into the desert, like they did for the other colonists.

  A few moments later, a man joined the woman, clothed in his protective garb. Neither spoke as they did their work. A few neighbors came out from their houses, looking over, but they refrained from speaking to the couple.

  Eventually, the man and woman completed their task, and the man wheeled away the unwanted sand. The woman stuck her shovel in the ground, adjusting her shawl. When she finished, she gazed up through the dust clouds.

  Slowly, she appraised the outline of the giant, red rock formation that hung in the distance—an enormous, towering reminder of a loss neither she nor Darius would forget.

  Darius felt as if someone had punched his stomach. Sadness washed over him as he watched Akron’s mother. He wanted to reach out to her, console her, and share his sympathies.

  But she hated him, just as her husband did. They blamed him for telling the stories that had inspired Akron to go into the caves, leading to his death.

  They were right. It was Darius’s fault.

  One day, he would give Akron’s parents peace.

  Darius watched Akron’s mother for another moment, until the guilt in his stomach got the better of him and he hobbled along.

  Chapter 19: Neena

  A slow wind picked up across the desert, blowing sand over the gaping holes, piling it against the rock formation and covering the bloodied carcass.

  The sight of the mangled animal and the scavenging birds gave Neena a sickening wave of fear. The holes on either side of the carcass were black, filled with shadow. They were fifty feet apart—spaced a hundred feet from the rock formation. For all she knew, the creature lurked in one of them, ready to rise up and end their lives.

  She couldn’t be certain the fawn was the same one she’d seen, but deep down, she knew.

  First the mother, and now its child.

  Overhead, the squawking birds chose a new direction. Were they fleeing Neena, Kai, or something else?

  “This way,” Kai hissed.

  Without another word, he hurried to the stream and filled his flask. Neena followed suit. Right after, he directed her to the nearest jutting overhang, curved his fingers over the top, and pulled himself up and over. She knew what he was doing. Staying on the ground seemed like inviting death.

  Following him, Neena heaved herself up the craggy, red rock and climbed. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she grunted and pulled, finding hand and footholds, avoiding slick bird droppings on the steep formation’s face, and stones sharp enough to cut her flesh. Several times, she slowed, thinking she might lose her grip, but she held on. The image of the creature’s enormous teeth clamping an ankle pushed her faster.

  Looking up, she saw where Kai aimed. Twenty feet skyward, a ledge jutted out of the structure, on which they could perch.

  “Come on,” Kai urged.

  Reaching the ledge first, he turned and pulled her up. And then they were on top of it, standing on an uneven, natural platform. A few loose pebbles skittered over the edge, clacking off the side of the formation. Fighting dizziness, Neena looked down at how far they’d climbed.

  They’d made it thirty feet from the ground.

  Inching close to the formation, they clung to the steep rock’s face, scanning the desert. The gaping holes below them looked like a pair of uneven eyes. Smooth sand at the top gave way to darker sand beneath. The tunnels reminded Neena of playing as a child outside of her colony, imagining the underground fortresses she might build. Those were good memories.

  But this sight—and the mangled carcass—filled her with dread.

  Almost everything in the desert was covered in a thin film of the sandstorm’s dust, but they saw better than they could on the ground. In the west, east, and south, the desert seemed to go on forever, filled with dunes. But the northern side of the rock—behind them—was a blind spot. That made her nervous.

  Finally, Kai said, “Over there. Do you see that?”

  Neena followed his gaze to a few discolorations in the desert.

  “More breaches,” Kai said.

  A pit in her stomach grew worse. “It got ahead of us in the night.”

  Kai nodded. “We should stay here awhile, just to be safe.”

  Looking down the thirty-foot face of rock, Neena asked, “Can it reach us up here?”

  “I’ve seen it burst from the ground higher than this ledge,” Kai admitted.

  Neena nodded. Looking up, she saw no higher ledges on the steep spire. She wasn’t sure what came next, but every instinct told her to stay off the sand.

  Chapter 20: Gideon

  Gideon walked the path at the end of the crop rows, looking over the dusted, buried, or wilted vegetables. Even the long retaining walls, made of rock and mud, hadn’t shielded the vegetables from the wind and the sand. But that was always the way, with a storm as severe as this. Between the rows, the Crop Tenders knelt, cleaning off the crops that could be cleaned, or tugging out those that were too damaged to grow any further. A stringy-haired woman tossed a handful of green vegetables into a cart. Next to her, a gaunt man dusted off a sagging, brown root. The damaged crops would be passed out as early rations.

  The storm—and the deaths—would lower the morale of his people.

  But Gideon couldn’t let it consume them.

  Grief and despair wouldn’t feed stomachs.

  He looked over his shoulder. A row behind him, Wyatt watched some workers load several wagons. Three rows past, Brody, Saurab, and Horatio spoke with the crop supervisors about the plans for distribution. The supervisors and Crop Tenders did their duties with a diligence that showed they knew the importance of their work.

  The Crop Tenders were handpicked, expected to keep pace, or be demoted. Some of their families had done their d
uty for generations, passing their knowledge down to their offspring. In exchange for tending the crops, the Crop Tenders received their share of rations, as well as meat from the tithing storehouse at the front of the colony. The Crop Tenders escaped the heat and danger of the desert—it was better than being a hunter; that was for sure.

  They had a special privilege.

  Just like his Watchers.

  Breaking from his observations, Wyatt strode past a line of carts to join Gideon.

  “About ten percent of our crops are damaged,” he reported, with a serious expression. Gideon could see him running figures in his head. He already had his book out, ready to make tallies.

  Gideon looked from the crops across the river to the clusters of houses, where children played, and women carried buckets. Not for the first time, he wondered about the hunters caught in the desert. Depending on how they fared, he might have to speak more words at tomorrow’s ceremony.

  “What are we doing about the lost Crop Tenders?” Gideon asked.

  “I already have supervisors working on their replacements,” Wyatt told him. “The positions should be filled soon.”

  Gideon nodded. Wyatt performed his tasks without question, like most of Gideon’s good men.

  “We’ll need to fix some parts of our retaining walls,” Gideon observed, pointing at some fallen or scattered rocks.

  “We’ll get on that,” Wyatt confirmed.

  Gideon glanced from the crops to the top of the cliffs, watching a few men stroll the high ledges, checking the horizon. Whispers of the lost crops would permeate the colony long before the damaged rations did.

  Hunger led to unrest.

  It always did.

  Catching Wyatt’s attention, he said, “Tell Thorne to have The Watchers keep a close eye on the colony. We don’t need any violence or disturbances, in the wake of empty stomachs.”

  Chapter 21: Raj

  “Where are we going?” asked Samel, struggling to keep up with Raj.

  Raj toted the empty bucket in his hands, cutting from Helgid’s alley and heading north, curving around several women carrying shovels and buckets. All around him, people dispersed in different directions, but most headed south, toward the riverbanks, to procure mud and straw. Raj and Samel were supposed to get materials, too, but Raj had another idea in mind first.

  “I’m heading for the tithing houses,” Raj said, answering Samel’s question. “Maybe we’ll see Neena coming back.”

  Samel nodded. For every one of Raj’s long strides, he took several quicker steps, keeping up without complaint. Samel could be annoying, but he was a good companion. Raj wove around a few elderly people, hobbling from their dwellings. A few glanced at Raj and Samel with the scrutinizing stares that old people always gave kids their age.

  Getting to the center of the colony, they rounded the enormous, circular Comm Building. The round, curved roof rose higher than any of the hovels around it. The sturdy walls seemed impenetrable. Even the long, straight annex that jutted out from the side seemed as if it could withstand the worst sandstorm. Raj could never imagine it falling.

  He saw none of The Heads of Colony.

  Good, he thought with relief.

  Gideon and his important men always made him nervous.

  The path split in two, curving around the Comm Building and reforming. Raj chose a path east, with less people, and curved back around to the main path. In the distance, past the clusters of people, he saw the edges of the tithing houses. To their left and right, out of sight, were the storehouses. Beyond them, the path lost its shape and melded with the sand.

  Two towering spires sat on either side of that path, about half a klick after the colony ended. Raj had always thought of those structures as two sides of a large door, welcoming the returning hunters. Farther out in the desert, more spires rose in intermittent places, like enormous spears thrust into the ground. Most were far enough away that he could only see their silhouettes under the sun.

  Often, he saw hunters coming up that path, dragging game, or hauling larger bags than what they’d gone out with. More than once, Raj welcomed Neena as she came up that path, always with a smile and a tearful embrace.

  Hoping for a similar reunion, he walked faster, temporarily forgetting his brother’s smaller legs.

  Movement from an adjacent alley caught Raj’s attention.

  He looked right.

  A tight cluster of kids wormed their way past some adults, pointing and yelling.

  Pointing at Raj and Samel.

  “Hey!” they shouted.

  Bailey and his friends.

  A group of children became a mob, shoes slapping the alley as they ran. Their shouts grew bolder. A few adults looked at the children with mild annoyance. To them, the running mob was nothing more than kids engaged in play.

  Raj knew better.

  Fear spiked in his stomach as he grabbed Samel’s hand, pulling him in the other direction. “Come on!”

  “Where are we going, Raj?”

  Raj didn’t answer.

  His heart slammed against his ribcage as he chose the path of least resistance, cutting away and north. He clutched his bucket with his other hand. They ran through a smaller alley, startling some people who moved out of the way, or bumping a few who didn’t react in time. Some people wheeled pushcarts, while others carried children. Cries of anger and annoyance followed their path.

  Raj had no time for apologies.

  A few men held up a carcass near their house, preparing to skin it. The fleeting thought came to Raj that he would’ve asked them if they had seen his sister, if a bloodthirsty group of kids weren’t chasing them.

  He lost hold of Samel.

  Too late, he looked back.

  Samel crashed against a pushcart, knocking over the man behind it. The cart overturned. Stones hit the ground and rolled. More people stepped back, caught in the middle of an unexpected scene.

  “You filthy rats!” the man yelled, staggering to his feet.

  “We’re sorry!” Raj said, helping his brother up.

  “You’ll be sorry when you help me pick up all these stones!”

  Raj glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Bailey and his friends in the distance. The commotion had given them away.

  “Come on!” Raj said, clutching Samel’s hand and his bucket as they ran, ignoring the man’s angry cries behind them.

  They wound through another few alleys, catching sight of the kids running behind them, or hearing their fast footsteps. More and more people glanced in their direction. The bystanders’ attention was drawing the kids. Bailey and his gang only had to follow the stares. Frantic, Raj pushed on, until quiet surrounded them.

  With panic, Raj realized they had ended up in the Crop Tenders section. Most were at work down by the river.

  No one was here.

  He paused for a split second, looking at a few closed doors on the houses on either side of the alley, wishing they could get inside. But those doors would be locked.

  Samel clutched his winded stomach, frightened tears glistening in his eyes.

  “I can’t run anymore, Raj!” Samel said, shaking.

  “We have to move!” Raj urged. Looking sideways, he had an idea. “Behind one of these houses. We’ll hide before they see us!”

  “Caught you, orphan boy!”

  Raj’s blood froze.

  He turned.

  Bailey and five other boys stood farther down the alley. All had hungry expressions of violence on their faces. More voices shouted in the distance as the rest of the pack rounded an intersecting alley, reaching threateningly for their knives, or clenching their fists. The boys took a few steps as they saw an end to their chase.

  Hiding was out.

  Raj’s heart slammed into his ribs as he surveyed more boys than he could handle, knife at his side or not.

  “Let’s settle this, orphan boy!” Bailey shouted. Triumph bled through his words. “Stop running, and I’ll spare your pissy-pants brother!”<
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  “Come on, girly boy!”

  A few of Bailey’s friends yelled similar taunts.

  If it were a fair fight, Raj might’ve considered taking on the older boy, pulling his knife in a threat he couldn’t finish. But these boys didn’t play fair.

  Frantic, Raj turned and assessed the area. No one could help. All they could do was turn and flee.

  “Come on, Sam!”

  Their footsteps reverberated off the empty alley as they continued fleeing, past lifeless hovels with closed doors, more empty alleys, and pushcarts filled with sand. They kept their focus straight ahead. A lost step would put them closer to a fist, or maybe even a knife. Samel struggled to match Raj’s quicker pace, gasping for air.

  Catching sight of an alley, Raj veered for it.

  He slammed into a thick, meaty chest.

  He fell back on his butt, stunned, into the main alley.

  Raj looked from the ground to the face of a stern, muscular man he’d seen several times at the base of the cliffs or walking alongside Gideon and The Heads of Colony. A Watcher. The man frowned, his gaze wandering from Raj to Samel, as Samel frantically tugged at Raj’s arm, trying to pull him up.

  “Come on, Raj!”

  “What’s going on?” the man demanded, loudly enough that Samel stopped pulling.

  “Nothing.” Raj could hardly formulate an answer.

  The man looked past him into the main alley, where Bailey and his friends stopped stiff in the center of the path. A few of them relaxed their hands to their sides. One by one, their malicious faces turned into a fearful respect.

  “Are you Crop Tenders’ children?” the Watcher called.

  Raj turned over his shoulder, watching a few of the boys’ slack-jawed expressions. Finding courage, one or two shook their heads.

  “Get out of here, then!” The Watcher raised a threatening arm.

  The boys delayed a moment, as if the man’s words might be a test, and then feet were moving and heads were looking over shoulders. The Watcher stared after the fleeing boys for a long moment, before turning his attention to Raj and Samel.