Nick James - Skyship Academy

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.”

He sighs. “Awfully strange seeing Skyship kids here in Lenbrg. If this is some kind of trick, I guarantee you’ll be paying for it.”

“It’s no trick,” I say.

He frowns. “Eat up. I’ll show you the van when we’re finished talking.”

Avery beams. “Thank you!”

“Didn’t say I was takin’ you yet,” he grumbles. “Now hurry. I should be leaving soon.”

After lunch we exit the comfort of the dining hall for the oppressive heat of Lenbrg’s northern sector. We pass the town farm before coming upon what’s left of a torn-down apartment complex.

Avery scoots closer to Bobby as we cross a lonely cul-de-sac. “So, we’ve met your dad. Where’s your mother?”

“Bovine flu hit real bad a couple of years ago,” he responds.

“Oh,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, “no biggie.”

We turn a corner and George’s house comes into view-a ramshackle country barn, augmented with its own personal wind farm in the neighboring field.

George pauses in front of the building, resting his hands on his hips. “Don’t like livin’ inside Uni. Rather be my own man, know what I mean?”

Nobody answers, but he doesn’t seem to expect a response. He leads us up the front lawn in silence. Moments later the door swings open and a scrawny, mean-looking boy steps onto the porch.

George smiles. “Hey Danny. Didn’t see you at lunch.”

“I grabbed some stuff and left,” the boy responds quietly, never taking his eyes off of us. “Who are they?”

George heads up the steps and rustles the boy’s hair. “Change of plans, son. We’ve got passengers comin’ with us this afternoon.”

The boy glares at me like he’s possessed by a demon. I half expect his head to start spinning in circles.

“Relax Danny boy,” Bobby leans against a wide post supporting the canopy. “They’re just Shippers.”

The kid’s eyes widen at the word. He steps away until he’s back inside the house.

“Just a little skittish.” George motions toward the front door. “Can’t say I blame him.”

We follow him into the house. Ceiling fans push the warm air around in funnels. It’s not as bad as outside, but nowhere near as cool as the cafeteria.

Danny’s already disappeared. He couldn’t have had a hard time finding a hiding place. There’s stuff everywhere. And not normal house stuff like furniture. Stacks of packing boxes and endless piles of metal parts form a veritable maze inside the living room. Four spare tires lie in one corner while a mountain of cans rests in another. It’s an indoor junkyard museum covered in a layer of dust so thick you could knit a blanket from it. I sneeze as soon as we enter.

George takes us through two murky rooms of this before heading out a back door and down into a sea of junk. Turns out the inside of the house was just the appetizer.

“Got most of this from Seattle,” he declares proudly. “City Center’s pretty much gone, same with the coast where the water rose. But farther out the impact wasn’t as destructive. Chemicals killed the people. Didn’t kill their stuff.”

“That crossbow was lame, by the way.” Bobby runs his hand along a pile of hollow window frames. “Ooh,” he pulls a roughed-up, stringless guitar from the next pile. “Can I have this?”

“Don’t touch,” George says without looking back. Bobby reluctantly lets go of the instrument.

Just beyond the piles of junk sits a large moving van. It was white once, but all the dirt and dust now make it an ugly tan color. It’s gotta be one of the oldest looking vehicles I’ve ever seen. Worse still, there’s only room for two in the cabin. Assuming George’s son is coming along, Avery and I get to be the cargo.

As we continue winding through the heaps of trash, I marvel at the different scents around me. None of them are pleasant. “This is quite a collection.” I stumble past a metal pipe sticking into the middle of the pathway.

“Not everything’s useful, of course,” George replies, oblivious to the sarcasm, “but Danny and me like to tinker around with it anyways. You never know what’ll come in handy.”

“Best place for hide-and-seek,” Bobby grins. “You get used to the smells after a while.”

I wipe the sweat from my face, wondering how any outdoor game could be fun in this kind of heat. The van won’t be temperature controlled either. This is gonna be a ride I won’t be forgetting for a long time.

When we finally clear the never-ending field of trash, George moves to the back of the van and unlocks the door, pushing it up to the ceiling. Avery and I peer inside the trailer.