River Rats by Caroline Stevermer

Author:Caroline Stevermer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2021-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

Wild Boys

By the time we finished walking across the railroad tracks, I was all ready for a rematch with the wild boys. Our guide seemed to have no trouble finding his way in the dark. He didn’t even stub his bare toes on the railroad ties. Esteban, too, made his way easily. Just as well he did, for a fall on his broken arm would have been bad. But the rest of us tripped regularly. Even when we were able to keep from making any noise in words (and I thought of some good words), our breathing was full of sudden gasps and hisses of pain.

After the railroad tracks came the cluttered streets again. Even in the dark I could feel the way the buildings blocked the horizon. I hated those streets. The dead city felt all wrong to me, empty and crowded at the same time. I tried to move as quietly as I could, but within about ten minutes, I’d managed to step in puddles with each foot. After that I moved with a mushy noise at every stride.

Our wild boy ignored the gasps and squelches. He didn’t seem to notice that anyone was with him. All the way, Esteban’s voice, strong and soft, full of assurance, soothed him. When the wild boy left the center of the street to pick his way across a drift of rubbish to one of the buildings, we, too, found ourselves drawing assurance from Esteban’s voice.

When the wild boy led us up a ramp to a cold metal door, we paused. I felt Lindy’s hand brush mine.

“What are we doing?” she whispered in my ear. “Are we just going to walk in?”

Our guide fumbled a moment at the left side of the door, then banged on the metal panel with what sounded like a piece of chain. The noise made us all jump.

“We are on a path,” said Esteban. “Each breath brings us a step along the path. There is no turning from the way.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” demanded Lindy in a fierce whisper.

“They’ve got Spike,” said Toby in a tone that ended the argument before it began.

Esteban said, “While the wild boys have Bud and King, we have no way to free Jake. So we have no choice. We must confront them.”

“Right now?” murmured Lindy, but her words were so close to a breath that I think only I heard them.

A gust of warm air, smelling of scorched feathers, met us as the door swung outward. Within, the floor and ceiling of a huge torch-lit chamber slanted upward, climbing gradually into shadow. Our wild boy stepped across the threshold.

“Now,” said Toby.

So we followed our wild boy home.

Ten steps inside the chamber was the metal skeleton of a glass-walled booth, the glass completely gone. Inside the booth sat a wild boy, a small pink-cheeked one, leaning his chair back on its legs. Beside the booth was a red metal crossbar jutting out into our path. Overhead was a sign, black lettering on a white board.

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