Tuck

“Tuck,” I say, even though I am sure he can’t hear me.  “We need to go.”

No response.  Typical.

I twist around to get a look at the sky and I swear I see the fringes of purple light creeping up to the stars.  Not good.  If the sun passes the horizon and we’re still here, we’re as good as dead.

“Tuck!”

Still nothing.

The big ugly clock in the center of the city strikes and I jump so high, I nearly fall off my perch with fright.  But I manage to stay on, strong fingers, I guess.  Seventeen strikes.  Seventeen.  That gives us maybe 40 minutes before sunup.  Which might be enough.  Might just barely be enough, if we can get down the slag hills fast enough, and cross the valley without getting lost, and swim across the lake with no mishaps.  But that would only work if Tuck was ready to go right now.  Which he isn’t.  So we’re not gonna make it.

“Tuck!” I say as loudly as I dare.  My voice bounces around inside the hole.

Again, nothing.  Stupid Tuck, gonna get us both killed.

I tighten my pack on my shoulders and reclasp my belt to prepare for the descent.  Climbing’s never been an issue for me; it’s getting back down that’s the problem.  I hate the way ground looks like it is moving, swaying.  They tell me it’s only heat waves, and I would believe them if it wasn’t so cold on the valley floor.  I clip my cord to a twisted piece of metal and take a deep breath in through my nose.  Which is stupid because now I have to sneeze.  Too much dust in this air.

In the distance, a beacon lamp floats up into the sky, heralding the new day.  It reaches its zenith and explodes with enough sound to wake the dead.  Which is a little over the top, in my opinion, cause it’s only the cityfolk that need the wake up call.

And now there’s definitely purple in the sky.  I guess we have 30 minutes tops before we’re dead.  Not nearly enough time to run now.  We’re gonna have to hide till the dark comes again.

“Tuck!” I say, louder than I should have. I look around to see if anyone heard.  No early rising soldiers taking their places on the valley floor. Not yet, at least.

That stupid, stupid boy.  Gonna get us both killed out here.  We’ll be nothing but corpses for the crows.  At least I will, when they shoot me, shoot me through with their sharp little bullets just like they did to old Cory a year and a half ago.  But Tuck is safe, isn’t he?  Hidden away in that reeking slag hole.

Maybe I should go down there too?  Find out what he’s doing… Hide from the sun and the soldiers and…

Nope. No.  Not a chance. Even if it wouldn't break every rule there is about two people in a hole without someone topside, I wouldn’t ever be able to brave my debilitating fear of slag holes (and the creatures inside).  The only reasonable option is to make Tuck get back up here.

I grab a rock and prepare to chuck it down the hole to get his attention, but I just can’t make myself take the risk.  Rocks can be loud, and I know there is plenty of metal down there for it to crash on the whole way down.  But that is what I want, right?  Make him remember that I am waiting up here?  I take a deep breath (through my mouth this time) and pull my arm back.  But I don’t release the rock; I hear a faint scraping sound coming from the inside.  Finally.  Finally stupid Tuck is coming back up.  Boy, is he going to hear all about his tardiness when we get back, I’ll make absolute sure of it.

The scraping is getting louder.  The sun is about to cross the horizon.  My heart is racing and I force my eyes to scan the swaying ground for soldiers.

I turn back just in time to see his hand crest the tip of the hold and I move toward him, angry enough to push him off the side of the hill.  But I freeze in my tracks.  It’s not Tuck.  Not Tuck climbing out of the hole.


It’s a masked face.


It’s my nightmare.


It’s a soldier.  And his gun is pointed at my head.