Sky Jumpers Series, Book 1 (13 page)

My dad collapsed into the arms of the men beside him, and they carried him to the edge of the gym and propped him against the wall near a hearth. My mom rushed to his side. As soon as his arm was around her shoulder, her face relaxed a little. When I was four and both my mom’s parents and my dad’s dad all died within a few days of each other, my parents pulled each other through. They would get through this fine, too, even if I was gone.

Dr. Grenwood hurried into the room a few minutes later. While she took care of my dad, Aaren and I got soup and bread from the kitchen. My dad didn’t want to eat, but with both Aaren’s mom and my mom saying he should, and with me practically force-feeding him, he finally ate.
When he finished, he looked slightly better and was anxious to talk with Mr. Newberry again.

As Mr. Newberry ambled toward us, trying to act like he was just stretching his legs, Aaren, my mom, and I moved to the side so they could talk. I laid my head on my mom’s shoulder.

Mr. Newberry sat down and, before my dad even said anything, suggested we attack the bandits. “We have the superior numbers,” he said. “We could take them!”

“They have guns,” my dad said in a strained voice. “And they’d shoot a lot of us in the process.”

“What about
our
guns?” Mr. Newberry asked. “We can go to the cellar for food, distract the guard, and get to the weapons room. Even up the odds a bit.”

“Since we sent so many men to Browning, we sent more guns. There are only two in the weapons room, along with a handful of bullets. It’s not enough. We need to do something different.”

“Just because you said you’re in charge doesn’t make it true,” Mr. Newberry hissed. “And it doesn’t mean you can make bad decisions for this town. I won’t sit here while you roll over and let them take whatever they want.”

My dad whispered, “Pull it together—getting angry isn’t going to solve the problem. Neither is campaigning for council head.” Then he coughed a few times and drew
in a quick breath like the pain had gotten worse. After a moment of struggling to breathe normally, he said, “Right now, we’re looking at solutions and their consequences. We need all options, and we need to think what the council members in the other rooms would vote to do.”

One of the guards making rounds walked near enough to stop their conversation for a moment right as Dr. Grenwood came to check on my dad. But I still heard Mr. Newberry’s angry breathing. It was probably a good thing he couldn’t talk for a bit.

Brock walked over and stood awkwardly, then sat down next to me. After a moment of silence, he said, “I’m sorry about your dad. Is he okay?”

I shrugged. “For now.”

The four of us sat in silence. When the guard wandered away, Mr. Newberry took a deep breath. “Fine. We’ll guess what the others would do. Williams would give them all of the Ameiphus. Get them out as soon as possible.”

At the suggestion, Dr. Grenwood exploded—in a whispered sort of way. “That’s not an option! Do you know how many people would’ve died last year without Ameiphus? Over seventy. Seventy! If we give them the Ameiphus, it’s the same as killing that many people!” She turned to my dad. “Please tell me you won’t consider it. Reports from other towns say they stole food or weapons. Antibiotics can’t be the only thing they want.”

“It is.” My dad sighed. “You know how rough life is out there. They get Shadel’s Sickness just like we do. Probably more so, since they don’t have good shelter. And I’m sure they get infections from injuries. They won’t leave without it.”

“Maybe if we offered
some
of the Ameiphus,” Mr. Newberry said, “along with something else of value. We could reason with him.”

“I don’t know,” my dad muttered. “Mickelson said we have no idea how valuable it is. They probably want it for trade, too, and they know they won’t be able to catch us unprepared again. They’ll want everything now.”

The gym doors opened, and Mickelson strode into the room. Mr. Newberry lowered his voice and spoke quickly. “So, what? You’re just going to let them take it? Fighting them is the only solution, and you know it, but you’re too much of a coward to fight. This is why you should never be council head. You’d run this town into the ground!”

“Now that’s—” Dr. Grenwood started to argue, but my dad cut her off and changed the subject to firewood for the hearths. Dr. Grenwood checked my dad’s bandages.

Mickelson waved the dark-haired bandit over as he neared my dad and said, “We have two council members together.” He jabbed Mr. Newberry’s leg with his boot. “Get this one to the library.” Mr. Newberry got up and threw my dad a look. I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a
plea. Maybe it was both. He left the room with the bandit, and Mickelson turned to Aaren’s mom. “Doctor, I believe you have some important work in the clinic that everyone’s counting on you to do. And you have another patient.”

I looked to my dad, then Mickelson, then Dr. Grenwood as she leapt to her feet.

Mickelson nodded in the general direction of the library. “Guy named Hudson. Said he was sick when my men picked him up. They stuck him in the library, and in the last few minutes, splotches appeared on his face—probably Shadel’s. I don’t care if you quarantine him in your office or kill him now to keep it from spreading, but if my men get sick before you finish the Ameiphus, your family’s lives are forfeit.”

“Go easy on that leg,” Dr. Grenwood told my dad before she ran out of the room.

“No! Not Mr. Hudson,” I whispered. He couldn’t have Shadel’s, especially when we had no Ameiphus. Our town needed Mr. Hudson.

When Mickelson finally sauntered away, Aaren and I moved closer to my dad. He had lines of worry and pain on his face, and it made him look a million years older.

“Dad, we need our guard.”

“I know, pumpkin. But we’ll make do.” He closed his eyes and patted my hand.

I leaned closer and whispered, “Dad, I can get them.”
His eyes flew open just as a guard walked near us. As he passed, I gulped down my fear, hopefully before my dad heard it in my voice. “There are bandits guarding the hole in the mines, and with the snowdrifts, no one can get through the tunnel. The
only
way to get to Browning right now is to go over the mountain. I’ve been through the Bomb’s Breath, Dad. Both Aaren and I have. We can go through again and get our guard.”

His face was already pale, but once I told him my secret, he looked worse. His breathing sped up and he clutched his chest. “Please tell me you didn’t.” His voice was a scratchy whisper.

Aaren flashed me a you’re-harming-the-patient look, so I said what I thought he would say. “Take slow, deep breaths, Dad. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before.” I patted my shoulders twice. “But see? I’m fine, Dad. I’m fine. We’ve been going into the Bomb’s Breath for two years, and we’re fine.”

I thought it would be better if he knew that it wasn’t a onetime fluke, but when I mentioned the two years part, his breathing got faster and faster. I gave him a drink of water and bit my lip as I waited for his breathing to slow.

“Dad, you love this town. I know you’ll do anything for it. But I know you don’t want to fight or give away our Ameiphus, because lots of people will die. There’s another option. You can let us get help.”

My dad shook his head and looked behind me to my mom. “You’re wrong, Hope. There are things I won’t do for this town.”

I spun around to my mom when I realized she had heard my confession, too. I expected her to look shocked or upset, but she didn’t. She just got up from her spot next to Brock without saying a word, walked around to my dad’s other side as he held out his hand toward her, and sat next to him. She gave me a look, but I couldn’t figure out what it meant.

“And I definitely won’t sacrifice my daughter for a chance at getting help.” My dad reached out with his other hand and gently touched my swollen cheek. “I love this town a lot, Hope. But I love you and your mom even more.”

“Mr. Toriella?” Aaren said. “We won’t get caught. Honest.”

“No,” my dad said simply. “We’ll find another option.”

“Dad, there are no other options! We can do this.” I glanced around to make sure I wasn’t loud enough for a guard to hear, then whispered, “It’s not too dangerous. I’m capable.”

My dad let out a sound that at first I thought would be a chuckle, but ended up being chopped grunts of pain. “You’re the most capable person I know, Hope.” And then his voice became a strained whisper I could barely hear. “As a father, I would tell you no because of the deadliness
of the Bomb’s Breath alone. As the acting council head, I would tell any person—adult or child—no for a myriad of reasons. You’re wrong, Hope. It
is
dangerous. There are a great number of things to fear. The risks are far too great.”

I knew there was a lot to fear. The truth was, I was more scared than I’d been in my life. I was scared for my town, I was scared for Aaren and me, I was scared for my mom, and I was especially scared for my dad. I had to work to push all of that out of my mind and tell myself that if my dad were in my position, he’d go. I couldn’t let my fear show on my face.

“Dad, this is the option that will save the town.”

“No. Absolutely not,” my dad said. “No chance. No to both of you. There’s another option; we just need to find it.”

My dad struggled to adjust the way he was sitting against the wall. He’d looked a little better after he ate, but now his face looked grayish. I reached out and touched his forehead—it was getting hot. That meant the infection had set in. The last teeny hope I’d had that he’d get better on his own was gone.

I looked into his eyes, so full of sadness and worry, and I could tell that he knew there was no other option. He was just protecting me, like he always protected everyone.

And if I didn’t go, he would die.

That night was the longest of my life. Even counting the time I had the mottled cough and the constant coughing kept me awake. Just before we went to bed, Aaren’s mom came to check on my dad and said that Melina Johnson, a little girl from Sixes & Sevens, was coming down with Shadel’s Sickness. I’d lived through enough winters to know that two people getting sick so close to the same time usually meant the beginning of an outbreak. I kept thinking about how many people Dr. Grenwood said usually got the sickness each year, and how that could all happen in the next couple of weeks. Without the Ameiphus, they’d die. I stared out the high window, wishing the night sky would lighten so I could stop trying to fall asleep.

We had enough food stored in the community center to feed everyone for a few weeks, but we didn’t have blankets. The hearth fires burned low, and the winter cold seeped through the walls. I shifted back and forth on the floor, trying to make a pillow out of my coat sleeves while covering as much of myself as I could with the rest. Every time my brain turned off enough to sleep, the hourly whistle blew, and everyone fourteen and older stumbled awake and into lines to be counted. I think the bandits did it to drive us insane. It was working.

I gave up sleeping after the four a.m. whistle and was tense and ready long before the five o’clock whistle blew. If Aaren and I left at five o’clock, the sun would be coming up about the time we crossed through the Bomb’s Breath and into unfamiliar territory. We’d decided it would be best to climb the mountain in daylight.

I looked at the lumps of sleeping bodies strewn across the gym floor, and then at my parents, who slept with their heads near me. My dad’s face was barely visible in the orange light from the coals in the hearth, but judging by his scrunched-up forehead covered with little beads of sweat, he was in pain and his fever was bad. Every minute that passed meant he was getting worse. I wanted to reach out and touch his face once before I left, but I was afraid I’d wake him.

My mom’s head moved and drew my attention. She was watching me with a strange expression on her face.

“Mom? Why are you awake?”

She reached out and put her hand on mine. “When you were a baby, Hope,” she whispered, “you crawled at an impossibly young age.”

I had no idea why she was talking about crawling. Maybe she was sleep-talking.

“Before I knew it, you were this teeny little thing who could walk and get into all sorts of trouble.” She paused for a moment, then squeezed my hand. “I stepped into the yard one day when you were not more than a year and a half. You’d climbed up that wooden fence by the coops and you had your arms out, balancing while you walked across the board at the top. My scream startled you, and you fell into a puddle on the ground. When I gathered your little mud-covered body up into my arms and held you tight, I knew.” She gave me a small smile. “Right then I knew that someday you’d walk away to do something incredibly dangerous, and I’d have to let you go. That there were going to be things that no one else could do as well as you, and I’d have to let you do them.”

A tear ran down my cheek, and she reached out and wiped it off with a hand that didn’t shake even a little bit. I could barely see her in the darkness, but she didn’t look
fragile. I wondered what had happened between the nine p.m. lineup and now.

“Hope, I’ve seen you get yourself out of one pickle after another. You get yourself out of this one and come back, okay?”