Axel:We could all die tomorrow. We only live once. You need to ask Ariceli out the next time she visits. You never know when it might be too late.
The camera zooms in on Tito, whose cheeks are burning bright red.
Day Four
ofFive
Chapter 30
“Holy balls, Oliver,” Sam said the next morning as we sat in the control room, watching the replay of the feed and the subsequent news reports. He had Betty Sue the chicken on his lap. They were showing an interview with Isabella Machado, aka Lady Diva, sobbing on the camera. “You fucked their shit up.”
It was just me, Lulu, Sam, and Axel. Axel’s ankle was now in a cast and he could walk normally, but he was on “light duty.” Rosita, Ariceli, and Miguel 1 were helping to finish up the escape tunnel and Tito was helping to repair the camo netting. The netting had really helped, but it had also been destroyed almost immediately. Roger had come up with some new design that we hoped would last longer. He’d also relocated all the heat stations since it appeared they were good at distracting missiles.
In addition to Betty Sue, a number of chickens were in the room. Cindy the pig had a new pen built next to our band practice stall, and she didnotlike not having a view outside. We could hear her outraged grunts.
“Oliver friend number three,” Roger said, speaking over the intercom in the control room, “that is swear number fifteen for the day.” The real Roger was also outside helping set up the new Battering Ram guns.
Sam grunted. “Roger, did you just see what Oliver said? He wove a beautiful tapestry of vulgarities with you sitting right there, and you didn’t say anything. In fact, it sounds like you were swearing yourself! This is so inconsistent!”
Betty Sue let out a bawk of solidarity.
“Rule four is suspended when it’s utilized during psychological warfare, Oliver friend number three. Your regular conversations should be more thoughtful. Also, please remove the chickens from the command headquarters.”
Sam started grumbling. “That’s like the squirrel blaming the raccoon for wearing a mask.”
He made no effort to remove the chickens. Instead, he dropped on the ground a clicking windup toy that he’d gotten somewhere, and the chickens swarmed to it. They tore it to shreds.
“What? Raccoon wearing a mask?” Axel asked almost a full thirty seconds later once the carnage was done. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a saying,” Sam said. “I was talking to Roger. It’s the same thing as saying it’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“How? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“My grandmother used to say it all the time,” Sam said. “Makes sense to me.”
“Explain it, then,” Axel demanded.
“I will when you explain what the hell ‘the pot calling the kettle black’ means.”
I sighed as they started to bicker back and forth. I sat on the floor of the control room, exhausted, my back against the wall. I’d barely slept. The multiple chickens walked all around me, pecking the floor now that they’d destroyed the evil windup toy. I didn’t have the strength to shoo them out, though the sight of the chickens stirred something in me. I’d had an idea percolating for about a day now, ever since Roger had told me about how he was now spending all of Lulu’s money.
But I lost the thread. My hands ached, distracting me. I looked at my fingers, dirty from helping to dig several graves just a few hours earlier.
We’d just buried everyone we’d lost, including Mr.Gonzales. In addition, we’d lost my old friend Daniel. He’d been on the south wall, and a missile had overshot, looped around, and killed him and three other men in a single blast. I’d barely spoken with him. His death just added to the strange numbness that had come over me. We didn’t have time to get everyone to the cemetery at the crossroads, so instead, we’d buried them in a former orchard across the road. The land had originally been earmarked for one of the Gonzales sons, but it had never been reallocated. Most of the orchards were choked with plica bushes now, but we kept a wide area near the road clear so the fast-moving brush wouldn’t jump the road.
It was in this area where we buried our dead.
Mr.Gonzales would’ve preferred to be buried next to his sons, but I think he would’ve been okay with being buried there. It was the best we could do. Mrs.Gonzales was still there in the orchard sitting at the grave along with all the others who’d lost someone.
On the screen, the caption read, “The Rhythm Mafia Already on Earth?”
This was followed by the image of a photograph of a standard poodle named Puddles.
“Good dog,” Lulu said, watching the screen.
Last night, immediately after I’d gotten off the feed with Droog, he’d made good on his promise. He’d taken his printed gun—which was apparently illegal to own—and he’d gone straight to the apartment home of Goat Sects. But Goat Sects had been warned ahead of time, and he was hiding in his neighbor’s apartment. There was footage of Droog kicking down his door and trashing the apartment before leaving in a huff.
“He looks so young. So skinny,” Axel said as we watched the video.
