“Aren’t they afraid it might explode under their feet?” I ask.
Jude shrugs from his pilot’s seat. “It’s been burning for more than twenty years now. At this point, they just all hope it’ll last for twenty more.”
He has been strangely quiet and tense since we took off from the mountaintop.
“You lived here before,” I say. “With your family.”
“With my jailers, you mean. Yeah, I spent my teenage years here. After I tried to escape on the road a few times, they left me here to rot.”
“But you still escaped, eventually.”
“Yes. Five years ago, I stole a buggy, and that time they didn’t catch me. I reachedGears and Giggles, and they hid me for a time. Then they got me in touch with their son, and I lived on the Traveling Market for a while.”
“You got out. And yet, here we are.”
Jude finally deigns to look at me. “They won’t catch me this time, either. Don’t worry, you’re still stuck with me until Marika hacks into theFirefly.”
“One could hope…” I say.
“It’s too quiet,” he says, watching the town below.
Townmight be too big a word to describe what looks more like a massive camp. Only two or three real buildings stand at the center of Hell. The oil refinery, I’m guessing. They’re surrounded by chimneys, large pipes, and tanks. The three flare stacks burn like giant candles farther away in the wastelands, over a metal tower. The oil rig. The rest is an ocean of mobile homes, caravans, tents, and all kinds of vehicles. The only ground left uncovered is around the burning crevices.
“Doesn’t it catch fire?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Oh, all the time. A few rows catch fire, and some cars explode. They find it funny.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
But Jude is right. The place is too quiet. There is no one walking down the messy lanes. There is no light except for the fires of Hell.
We land on the roof of one of the buildings. No one sounds the alarm. By now, we have both realized that Hell has turned into a ghost town.
Jude gestures for me to follow him, and we climb down the stairs leading to the inside of the building. We walk through room after room, which used to be where the controls for the refinery were. Most have been turned into living quarters since. Jude leads me to what he calls the Great Hall.
“My parents picture themselves as great rulers of the wastelands,” Jude explains when he sees my expression. “I swear they should have called it thethrone room.”
But the Great Hall is empty too. And it’s a mess. Most of the tables have been upturned, and there is old blood crusted on the floor. A lot of blood. A small battle happened here.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s back,” says a female voice.
Jude tenses, and we both turn. A woman walks out of the shadows on a crutch. She has long ginger hair falling on one side, and a burned scalp on the other. Her right leg is turned at a weird angle under her long skirt.
The resemblance to Jude is undeniable. One of his siblings, then. She doesn’t look older than thirty-five, and even with all the scars, she’s pretty.
“Audrey,” Jude says. “What happened here? Where is everyone?” His hand tightens around his gun.
“Why do you care, lil’ bro?” she says.
“We’ve met Malcolm. He told us that mom and dad are dead.”
Audrey smiles grimly. “Malcolm, heh? How is the fucker?”
“Dead,” I say. “I killed him.”
She sighs. “Well, I guess it’s been a long time coming. And who the fuck are you?”
“Mom and Dad?” Jude snaps with no patience for her short-spanned attention.
