Sky Raiders
Page 12
Leaning against the bars with his back to the dust, Cole thought about home. His mom and dad were probably out of their minds. Even his sister, Chelsea, was probably worried.
And he wasn’t the only person missing. All the parents had to be freaking out. That many kids disappearing without a trace would make the news for sure. Cole had never heard a story to top it.
The redheaded guard had thought their parents would forget them. Maybe people in this weird place would let their kids disappear without a fight. Obviously the guard had no idea how things worked in America.
Cole hoped the little angel girl had made it to the police. Assuming she had, there was no way even the best detective could follow their trail to another dimension. Her story would just make the disappearances more mysterious.
Looking around at the barren prairie and glancing ahead at the other kids locked up like circus animals, Cole realized he might never make it home. If he did, according to the Wayminder he wouldn’t get to stay there.
What had been his last words to his family? He clearly recalled his final remark to his sister. Chelsea was two years older and considered herself an expert on maturity. Just before he left to meet up with Dalton, she had been getting dressed up for a Halloween party. As he was leaving, she informed him how immature he was for going trick-or-treating. He told her she looked like something Halloween had thrown up.
He felt bad for it now, although it was better than having no comeback. He wondered if Chelsea would think disappearing forever was immature.
His last words to his mom were assurances he would be home by nine thirty. His dad had asked him to take out the trash, and he had promised to do it later. He hadn’t lied to them on purpose.
Maybe he would see them again. But somehow, as he rattled along a lonely prairie in a world where a stationary sunrise glowed in all directions, he had a hard time believing it.
He tried to look ahead and spot Dalton or Jenna, but with so much dust, and with the wagons in single file, he could seldom see much beyond the wagon in front of him. He wondered if they were looking for him.
Brown prairie, more or less level, stretched in all directions. Cole saw weeds and brush and some isolated trees, but not much else. He decided that if he’d wanted to be bored by nature, he had come to the right place.
Staring down at the floorboards of the cage, Cole noticed where somebody had carved a happy face into the wood. It was simple—a circle with two dots for eyes and a curved smile. The circle was imperfect, but not bad considering it had been scratched into wood.
The face struck him as odd. “Who would draw a smiley face while riding in a slave wagon?” he muttered.
“Somebody who wanted company,” the happy face answered in a friendly voice. “The miles go by faster when you have a buddy.” The mouth didn’t open when it spoke, but it quivered.
Cole jumped in surprise. He glanced over at the other kids in the wagon. Nobody was paying attention to him. He stared at the smiley face. “Did you just talk?” he whispered.
“Sure did,” the face answered, mouth trembling again. “I’m happy as a clam to meet a nice guy like you.”
The voice wasn’t very loud and sounded like a young boy.
Cole rubbed his face with both hands. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Surgeon girl was sitting closest to him. He crawled over to her and tapped her shoulder. “Check something for me.”
“What?” she asked, glancing around for guards.
Cole had already looked. One rider was way behind them, and two others roved much farther up the line of wagons. He motioned her over to the happy face. She followed uncertainly. “Say something to her,” Cole instructed.
“Today is the bestest day ever to make a new friend,” the cheerful face said.
The girl blinked, then looked at Cole in surprise. “How’d you do that? Are you a ventriloquist?”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “Cool trick, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter with you? Does this seem like a good time for jokes?” She scooted back to her former position.
Cole hunched down with his head near the happy face. He put his hand up to cover his lips. “Do you mind talking quietly?”
“Not a smidge,” the face said at a lower volume, although still chipper. “I’m just glad as can be to have a new pal.”
“What are you?” Cole asked. “How are you talking?”
“I’m a semblance, silly. I was shaped to talk.”
“A what?”
“I was made by Liam, the superdy-duperest shaper in all the land. After he was taken as a slave, he made me to keep him company. When he got sold, he left me here to cheer up anyone who talked to me. Feeling better yet?”
Cole could hardly believe he was talking to a magical happy face. It seemed even weirder to him than slave traders from another world. The little guy was so enthusiastic, Cole couldn’t help feeling a bit better. “Yeah, actually. Do you have a name?”
“Happy.”
“I’m Cole. Can you see me?”
“Sure, silly billy. I can see up your nostrils.”
Cole stifled a chuckle. He glanced at the other kids, but they all sat with their heads bowed, wrapped up in their fears.
“Does it hurt if people step on you?”
“Not a bit. You stepped on me when you came in here.”
“Sorry.”
“No harm done. You have a good sole.”
Cole smiled for Happy’s benefit. “You said the kid who made you was a shaper. Did he shape you with a knife?”
“No, silly, with his shaping.”
“What? Like magic?”
“Kind of, I guess. Life is magical.”
“He brought you to life?”
“Not really. I’m a semblance. I seem alive, don’t I?” The face gave a squeaky giggle.
“Did Liam program your words?”
“I just say what I say, Liam showed me the way, in this cage I will stay, while you’re here, we should play.”
Cole wondered whether Liam or the little face had created the rhyme. “Do you feel alive?”
“I love to talk, especially with a special new friend.”
The face seemed mostly designed to act friendly. Cole wanted to check if it could tell him anything useful. “Why is the sky like this? Why does it look like sunrise everywhere?”
“We’re lucky it’s a duskday—not too hot, not too cold. It’s nice to feel glad about the weather.”
“Are there lots of duskdays here?”
And he wasn’t the only person missing. All the parents had to be freaking out. That many kids disappearing without a trace would make the news for sure. Cole had never heard a story to top it.
The redheaded guard had thought their parents would forget them. Maybe people in this weird place would let their kids disappear without a fight. Obviously the guard had no idea how things worked in America.
Cole hoped the little angel girl had made it to the police. Assuming she had, there was no way even the best detective could follow their trail to another dimension. Her story would just make the disappearances more mysterious.
Looking around at the barren prairie and glancing ahead at the other kids locked up like circus animals, Cole realized he might never make it home. If he did, according to the Wayminder he wouldn’t get to stay there.
What had been his last words to his family? He clearly recalled his final remark to his sister. Chelsea was two years older and considered herself an expert on maturity. Just before he left to meet up with Dalton, she had been getting dressed up for a Halloween party. As he was leaving, she informed him how immature he was for going trick-or-treating. He told her she looked like something Halloween had thrown up.
He felt bad for it now, although it was better than having no comeback. He wondered if Chelsea would think disappearing forever was immature.
His last words to his mom were assurances he would be home by nine thirty. His dad had asked him to take out the trash, and he had promised to do it later. He hadn’t lied to them on purpose.
Maybe he would see them again. But somehow, as he rattled along a lonely prairie in a world where a stationary sunrise glowed in all directions, he had a hard time believing it.
He tried to look ahead and spot Dalton or Jenna, but with so much dust, and with the wagons in single file, he could seldom see much beyond the wagon in front of him. He wondered if they were looking for him.
Brown prairie, more or less level, stretched in all directions. Cole saw weeds and brush and some isolated trees, but not much else. He decided that if he’d wanted to be bored by nature, he had come to the right place.
Staring down at the floorboards of the cage, Cole noticed where somebody had carved a happy face into the wood. It was simple—a circle with two dots for eyes and a curved smile. The circle was imperfect, but not bad considering it had been scratched into wood.
The face struck him as odd. “Who would draw a smiley face while riding in a slave wagon?” he muttered.
“Somebody who wanted company,” the happy face answered in a friendly voice. “The miles go by faster when you have a buddy.” The mouth didn’t open when it spoke, but it quivered.
Cole jumped in surprise. He glanced over at the other kids in the wagon. Nobody was paying attention to him. He stared at the smiley face. “Did you just talk?” he whispered.
“Sure did,” the face answered, mouth trembling again. “I’m happy as a clam to meet a nice guy like you.”
The voice wasn’t very loud and sounded like a young boy.
Cole rubbed his face with both hands. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Surgeon girl was sitting closest to him. He crawled over to her and tapped her shoulder. “Check something for me.”
“What?” she asked, glancing around for guards.
Cole had already looked. One rider was way behind them, and two others roved much farther up the line of wagons. He motioned her over to the happy face. She followed uncertainly. “Say something to her,” Cole instructed.
“Today is the bestest day ever to make a new friend,” the cheerful face said.
The girl blinked, then looked at Cole in surprise. “How’d you do that? Are you a ventriloquist?”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “Cool trick, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter with you? Does this seem like a good time for jokes?” She scooted back to her former position.
Cole hunched down with his head near the happy face. He put his hand up to cover his lips. “Do you mind talking quietly?”
“Not a smidge,” the face said at a lower volume, although still chipper. “I’m just glad as can be to have a new pal.”
“What are you?” Cole asked. “How are you talking?”
“I’m a semblance, silly. I was shaped to talk.”
“A what?”
“I was made by Liam, the superdy-duperest shaper in all the land. After he was taken as a slave, he made me to keep him company. When he got sold, he left me here to cheer up anyone who talked to me. Feeling better yet?”
Cole could hardly believe he was talking to a magical happy face. It seemed even weirder to him than slave traders from another world. The little guy was so enthusiastic, Cole couldn’t help feeling a bit better. “Yeah, actually. Do you have a name?”
“Happy.”
“I’m Cole. Can you see me?”
“Sure, silly billy. I can see up your nostrils.”
Cole stifled a chuckle. He glanced at the other kids, but they all sat with their heads bowed, wrapped up in their fears.
“Does it hurt if people step on you?”
“Not a bit. You stepped on me when you came in here.”
“Sorry.”
“No harm done. You have a good sole.”
Cole smiled for Happy’s benefit. “You said the kid who made you was a shaper. Did he shape you with a knife?”
“No, silly, with his shaping.”
“What? Like magic?”
“Kind of, I guess. Life is magical.”
“He brought you to life?”
“Not really. I’m a semblance. I seem alive, don’t I?” The face gave a squeaky giggle.
“Did Liam program your words?”
“I just say what I say, Liam showed me the way, in this cage I will stay, while you’re here, we should play.”
Cole wondered whether Liam or the little face had created the rhyme. “Do you feel alive?”
“I love to talk, especially with a special new friend.”
The face seemed mostly designed to act friendly. Cole wanted to check if it could tell him anything useful. “Why is the sky like this? Why does it look like sunrise everywhere?”
“We’re lucky it’s a duskday—not too hot, not too cold. It’s nice to feel glad about the weather.”
“Are there lots of duskdays here?”
