Read Online Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy) by Susan Kim, Laurence Klavan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Kim, Laurence Klavan
Ads: Link
place, Esther started as if struck. She was stunned to have been spotted, and more than a little rattled. She stood poised, adrenaline coursing through her body, ready to escape should he make a move toward her.
But instead, the stranger only shrugged.
Then with one fluid movement, he mounted his battered bike and left.
FIVE
U NDER A STREETLAMP ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF P RIN, A BOY IN WHITE robes stood guard.
He shifted uncomfortably. Not accustomed to remaining still in the blazing sun for such a long stretch of time, he was perspiring heavily under his white sheets and headdress and felt more than a little nauseated. He was finding it impossible to keep his focus on the horizon. The heat caused shimmering waves of air to dance across the road, making it look as if hundreds of variants were attacking all at once. In addition, his sunglasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose.
Early that morning, Rafe had called him together along with a dozen others. Normally, the boy would have been getting ready for work. He had recently started a new Excavation on the eastern side of town and was preparing to spend the day deepening and widening the trench he and the rest of his team, including his pregnant partner, had just begun. Big-boned and quiet, the fifteen-year-old preferred Excavation to the other jobs in town because it was mindless and let you work by yourself.
But Prin, Rafe decided, needed sentries.
“We can’t afford another attack,” he told the assembled group. “So I’m putting you at each of the main roads that lead into town.”
An unspoken question rippled through the crowd. Rafe seemed to anticipate what it was and held up his hands to reassure them.
“Sarah let us down about the weapons. But don’t worry, you won’t be unarmed. I seen to it.”
That was when the boy noticed the crate by Rafe’s feet, the one filled with a sorry-looking assortment of bats, corroded metal bars, and splintered table legs.
Now he adjusted his sweaty grip on the hollow steel pipe he was given and tried to imagine what it would feel like to hit someone with it.
He couldn’t.
The boy guard rocked back and forth on his heels and he swiveled first to the left and then the right. A drop of sweat trickled into one eye; and he pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead so he could rub it away.
When he lowered them, he sensed a flicker of movement. Nearby, a dust-colored squirrel was watching him from the safety of some underbrush.
“Hey,” he said, relieved at the distraction.
The boy set his pipe down, squatted on his haunches, and held out a hand, even though he didn’t have anything to offer. He made a soft chucking sound, and the squirrel cocked its head at him, twitching its plumed tail.
The boy was glad no one else was around. Anyone in town would have tried to kill the creature, without a second thought. Unlike humans, animals were unaffected by the poison lurking in rainwater, and fresh meat of any kind was a rare and precious treat. But the sentry secretly liked squirrels and wished he had something to feed it. Maybe he had some forgotten crumbs somewhere in his clothing?
Slowly, in order not to scare the squirrel away, the boy kneeled, hoisting his robes so he could scrabble in his front pockets. One knee grazed the pipe, which rolled into the gutter, unnoticed and for the moment, forgotten.
“Ahh,” said the boy at last. His fingers closed on a few gritty crumbs, which he removed and scattered on the ground.
The squirrel leaned forward on one paw, nose twitching, then appeared to make up its mind. Keeping its eyes on the boy, it darted forward in two, three quick movements, seized a morsel, then sat up and began to eat.
The boy eased back on his heels and smiled, satisfied. But after a few moments, the squirrel stopped chewing.
The tiny head jerked up and froze, black eyes staring at some point in the far distance. Then with a flick of its tail, the animal bounded away and vanished in the tall
But instead, the stranger only shrugged.
Then with one fluid movement, he mounted his battered bike and left.
FIVE
U NDER A STREETLAMP ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF P RIN, A BOY IN WHITE robes stood guard.
He shifted uncomfortably. Not accustomed to remaining still in the blazing sun for such a long stretch of time, he was perspiring heavily under his white sheets and headdress and felt more than a little nauseated. He was finding it impossible to keep his focus on the horizon. The heat caused shimmering waves of air to dance across the road, making it look as if hundreds of variants were attacking all at once. In addition, his sunglasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose.
Early that morning, Rafe had called him together along with a dozen others. Normally, the boy would have been getting ready for work. He had recently started a new Excavation on the eastern side of town and was preparing to spend the day deepening and widening the trench he and the rest of his team, including his pregnant partner, had just begun. Big-boned and quiet, the fifteen-year-old preferred Excavation to the other jobs in town because it was mindless and let you work by yourself.
But Prin, Rafe decided, needed sentries.
“We can’t afford another attack,” he told the assembled group. “So I’m putting you at each of the main roads that lead into town.”
An unspoken question rippled through the crowd. Rafe seemed to anticipate what it was and held up his hands to reassure them.
“Sarah let us down about the weapons. But don’t worry, you won’t be unarmed. I seen to it.”
That was when the boy noticed the crate by Rafe’s feet, the one filled with a sorry-looking assortment of bats, corroded metal bars, and splintered table legs.
Now he adjusted his sweaty grip on the hollow steel pipe he was given and tried to imagine what it would feel like to hit someone with it.
He couldn’t.
The boy guard rocked back and forth on his heels and he swiveled first to the left and then the right. A drop of sweat trickled into one eye; and he pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead so he could rub it away.
When he lowered them, he sensed a flicker of movement. Nearby, a dust-colored squirrel was watching him from the safety of some underbrush.
“Hey,” he said, relieved at the distraction.
The boy set his pipe down, squatted on his haunches, and held out a hand, even though he didn’t have anything to offer. He made a soft chucking sound, and the squirrel cocked its head at him, twitching its plumed tail.
The boy was glad no one else was around. Anyone in town would have tried to kill the creature, without a second thought. Unlike humans, animals were unaffected by the poison lurking in rainwater, and fresh meat of any kind was a rare and precious treat. But the sentry secretly liked squirrels and wished he had something to feed it. Maybe he had some forgotten crumbs somewhere in his clothing?
Slowly, in order not to scare the squirrel away, the boy kneeled, hoisting his robes so he could scrabble in his front pockets. One knee grazed the pipe, which rolled into the gutter, unnoticed and for the moment, forgotten.
“Ahh,” said the boy at last. His fingers closed on a few gritty crumbs, which he removed and scattered on the ground.
The squirrel leaned forward on one paw, nose twitching, then appeared to make up its mind. Keeping its eyes on the boy, it darted forward in two, three quick movements, seized a morsel, then sat up and began to eat.
The boy eased back on his heels and smiled, satisfied. But after a few moments, the squirrel stopped chewing.
The tiny head jerked up and froze, black eyes staring at some point in the far distance. Then with a flick of its tail, the animal bounded away and vanished in the tall
Similar Books
