Orc bent down and yanked up a cabbage.
He tossed it back to land at Sam’s feet. A second and a third cabbage followed.
The zekes made no move toward Orc.
But they wouldn’t be sure until the zekes were offered something more easily digested than Orc’s stone feet.
“Breeze?” Sam said.
Brianna hefted a bat and zipped into the field. Sam waited, tense, knowing she was faster than the worms, but still . . .
Brianna tossed the bat. The zekes hit it.
And Brianna ripped a cabbage from the ground.
“You know,” Astrid said, “I seem to recall a certain condescending—one might even say contemptuous—response when I first suggested negotiating with the zekes.”
“Huh,” Sam said. “Who would ever be dumb enough to be condescending to you?”
“Oh, it was this bald guy I know.”
Sam sighed. “Okay. Okay. Grab your scissors and do your worst.”
“Actually,” Astrid said, “there’s something else you have to do first.”
“Always something,” Sam said gloomily.
Quinn joined them and apologized for stinking of fish.
“Brah, don’t apologize. You’re a very big part of keeping people from starving.”
The other reason the danger of mass starvation had receded for a while, at least, was Hunter. He had recovered most of his function, although his speech seemed permanently slurred, and one eye drooped above a down-twisted mouth.
Hunter had been charged with killing Harry. He had been sentenced to exile from Perdido Beach. He would live apart from them, alone, but living up to the name his parents had given him.
So far, Hunter had killed a second deer and a number of smaller animals. He dropped them at the loading dock of Ralph’s. He asked for nothing in return.
Dekka bent over and lifted one of the cabbages. “This would go great with some roasted pigeon.”
Hunter’s trial had been carried out by a jury of six kids, under rules set up by the Temporary Council: Sam, Astrid, Albert, Edilio, Dekka, Howard, and the youngest member, Brother John Terrafino.
“Well, back to work, huh?” Sam said.
“Get in the car,” Astrid said.
“What are—”
“Let me rephrase. By order of the Temporary Council: get in the car.”
She steadfastly refused to explain what was happening on the drive back to town. Edilio drove, and he was equally mum.
Edilio pulled up and parked in the town beach parking lot.
“Why are we going to the beach? I have to get back to town hall. I have, like, all this stuff—”
“Not now,” Edilio said firmly.
Sam stopped walking. “What’s up, Edilio?”
“I’m supposed to be the sheriff, right? That’s my new title?” Edilio said. “Okay, then, you are under arrest.”
“Under arrest? What are you talking about?”
“You are under arrest for trying to kill a kid named Sam Temple.”
“Not funny.”
But Edilio persisted. “Trying to kill a kid . . . just a kid . . . named Sam Temple. By stressing him out with the whole load of the world on his back.”
Sam didn’t find it amusing. Angry, he turned back toward town. But there was Astrid, close on his heels. And Brianna. Quinn, too.
“What are you all up to?” Sam demanded.
“We voted,” Astrid said. “It was unanimous. By order of the Perdido Beach Temporary Council, we sentence you, Sam Temple, to relax.”
“Okay. I’m relaxed. Now can I get back to work?”
Astrid took his arm and all but hauled him across the beach. “You know what’s interesting, Sam? I’ll tell you what’s interesting. A fairly small disturbance in deep water, creating a ripple, a surge, can become a pretty impressive wave as it nears shore.”
Sam noticed that someone had set up a tent on the beach. It looked forlorn.
Out to sea, a boat putted by, its motor chugging in low gear.
“Is that Dekka out on the boat?” Sam asked.
They reached the tent. Lying in the sand there were two surfboards. Quinn’s. And Sam’s.
“Your wet suit’s inside, brah,” Quinn said.
Sam resisted. But not for long. After all, the council had authority now. And if they said he had to go surfing, well . . .
Ten minutes later Sam was facedown on his board. His feet were already tingling from the cold water. The sun was already baking his back through the wet suit. The taste of salt was in his mouth.
Out to sea, the boat had anchored. Dekka stood in the bow and raised her hands high. The water rose, rose, a big bulge of water temporarily released from the force of gravity.
Dekka let it drop, and the ripple fanned out.
“You even remember how to get up on that thing?” Quinn teased.
The ripple had become a wave. A fast-moving wave. It would break big. Not north shore Oahu big, maybe, but big enough for a ride.
Sam smiled at last. “You know, brah? I think it may just come back to me.”
In a hole. Lightless. Soundless.
Not even the sound of a beating heart.
Nothing moved but the pale slug that shared this terrible place with her.
Pray for me, Tanner, Brittney begged.
Pray for me . . .
He tossed it back to land at Sam’s feet. A second and a third cabbage followed.
The zekes made no move toward Orc.
But they wouldn’t be sure until the zekes were offered something more easily digested than Orc’s stone feet.
“Breeze?” Sam said.
Brianna hefted a bat and zipped into the field. Sam waited, tense, knowing she was faster than the worms, but still . . .
Brianna tossed the bat. The zekes hit it.
And Brianna ripped a cabbage from the ground.
“You know,” Astrid said, “I seem to recall a certain condescending—one might even say contemptuous—response when I first suggested negotiating with the zekes.”
“Huh,” Sam said. “Who would ever be dumb enough to be condescending to you?”
“Oh, it was this bald guy I know.”
Sam sighed. “Okay. Okay. Grab your scissors and do your worst.”
“Actually,” Astrid said, “there’s something else you have to do first.”
“Always something,” Sam said gloomily.
Quinn joined them and apologized for stinking of fish.
“Brah, don’t apologize. You’re a very big part of keeping people from starving.”
The other reason the danger of mass starvation had receded for a while, at least, was Hunter. He had recovered most of his function, although his speech seemed permanently slurred, and one eye drooped above a down-twisted mouth.
Hunter had been charged with killing Harry. He had been sentenced to exile from Perdido Beach. He would live apart from them, alone, but living up to the name his parents had given him.
So far, Hunter had killed a second deer and a number of smaller animals. He dropped them at the loading dock of Ralph’s. He asked for nothing in return.
Dekka bent over and lifted one of the cabbages. “This would go great with some roasted pigeon.”
Hunter’s trial had been carried out by a jury of six kids, under rules set up by the Temporary Council: Sam, Astrid, Albert, Edilio, Dekka, Howard, and the youngest member, Brother John Terrafino.
“Well, back to work, huh?” Sam said.
“Get in the car,” Astrid said.
“What are—”
“Let me rephrase. By order of the Temporary Council: get in the car.”
She steadfastly refused to explain what was happening on the drive back to town. Edilio drove, and he was equally mum.
Edilio pulled up and parked in the town beach parking lot.
“Why are we going to the beach? I have to get back to town hall. I have, like, all this stuff—”
“Not now,” Edilio said firmly.
Sam stopped walking. “What’s up, Edilio?”
“I’m supposed to be the sheriff, right? That’s my new title?” Edilio said. “Okay, then, you are under arrest.”
“Under arrest? What are you talking about?”
“You are under arrest for trying to kill a kid named Sam Temple.”
“Not funny.”
But Edilio persisted. “Trying to kill a kid . . . just a kid . . . named Sam Temple. By stressing him out with the whole load of the world on his back.”
Sam didn’t find it amusing. Angry, he turned back toward town. But there was Astrid, close on his heels. And Brianna. Quinn, too.
“What are you all up to?” Sam demanded.
“We voted,” Astrid said. “It was unanimous. By order of the Perdido Beach Temporary Council, we sentence you, Sam Temple, to relax.”
“Okay. I’m relaxed. Now can I get back to work?”
Astrid took his arm and all but hauled him across the beach. “You know what’s interesting, Sam? I’ll tell you what’s interesting. A fairly small disturbance in deep water, creating a ripple, a surge, can become a pretty impressive wave as it nears shore.”
Sam noticed that someone had set up a tent on the beach. It looked forlorn.
Out to sea, a boat putted by, its motor chugging in low gear.
“Is that Dekka out on the boat?” Sam asked.
They reached the tent. Lying in the sand there were two surfboards. Quinn’s. And Sam’s.
“Your wet suit’s inside, brah,” Quinn said.
Sam resisted. But not for long. After all, the council had authority now. And if they said he had to go surfing, well . . .
Ten minutes later Sam was facedown on his board. His feet were already tingling from the cold water. The sun was already baking his back through the wet suit. The taste of salt was in his mouth.
Out to sea, the boat had anchored. Dekka stood in the bow and raised her hands high. The water rose, rose, a big bulge of water temporarily released from the force of gravity.
Dekka let it drop, and the ripple fanned out.
“You even remember how to get up on that thing?” Quinn teased.
The ripple had become a wave. A fast-moving wave. It would break big. Not north shore Oahu big, maybe, but big enough for a ride.
Sam smiled at last. “You know, brah? I think it may just come back to me.”
In a hole. Lightless. Soundless.
Not even the sound of a beating heart.
Nothing moved but the pale slug that shared this terrible place with her.
Pray for me, Tanner, Brittney begged.
Pray for me . . .
