"There, there, Elody," soothes Syon's mother, picking the little blond girl up and hugging her close. "Let's go find your parents."
When we go out into the open air what we see hurts our hearts. The place is a mess. Merchandise is strewn all over the place, tents knocked over, people huddled together near the remnants of their booths – it's a horrendous sight.
Syon's mother guides us through the commotion and over to the feast pavilion. Mom is near the entrance and spots us. She runs through the melee to hug us.
"Are you all right?" she asks, while touching our heads, faces, arms and any other body part she can reach. "I was searching all over for you. I was afraid the Motos took you."
"My sister Sanda is gone," says Syon's mother breaking into tears. "One of the Motos, the large one, hurt her and then they took her."
"I'm sorry, Shela," says Mom reaching to hug her. "I'm so sorry."
"The SCM captain questioned Crinae," Syon's mother says. "But he didn't get anywhere."
"What?" stammers Mom.
"He asked me about chores," Crinae says. "I said I helped you sweep."
"You do help me sweep. Good girl." She kisses Crinae on the top of her head and then nods towards the feasting tent. "They're still going to go on as planned. The Motos left the food tables intact and we're all expected to be there. No matter what happened."
"They would surely have a revolt if they had destroyed the food!" exclaims Syon's mother, wiping her tears with her sleeve. "Where's Dimitri?"
"He went to help a buddy with his booth," says Mom, casting her eyes to the ground. "The Motos took a baseball bat to it. Dimitri will be back before supper."
Midnight is still a long ways away and even though I just had a scare, it didn't shake the hunger out of me. I'm famished as are my sisters. Even Syon and Eden are pale and don't feel like tottering around anymore. Our two families sit outside the tent and talk and watch vendor's clean up their booths.
"Are the SCMs still here?" I ask. I hadn't heard the motorbikes start up again. A sound I'll never ever forget.
"They must be," says Mom. "They'll probably be patrolling the perimeter of the four-way. Seeing if anyone is coming and going."
"Who would be coming and going?" I ask.
"This is a conversation best left for home," she warns.
I want to talk to Syon. We have been buddies ever since we shared our first scraped knees from scrambling up the rocks together. So why am I having a hard time coming up with topics of conversation?
"Did you see Goliath's boots?" I ask Syon. "They were big."
"Bet he couldn't run in them though. Too heavy."
"Wouldn't want to find out."
"No. Wouldn't want to find out."
I bob from one topic to the next. Babbling on and on about nothing.
"Have you always talked this much?" he asks me.
I stare at him with my mouth open. I was about to ask him about the new word Goliath had said Aeternian. Instead, I take the hint and shut up.
The sun begins to creep down the mountains and the stars come out to glow. It's not like you can really make them out though. It never gets really dark and the dust in the air is thick and does a good job of hiding celestial objects.
Despite the earlier ruckus, no one has gone home. If anyone misses this event he or she will be punished. They could have their house taken away or worse, be put in the Silo, a prison renowned for its violent guards and peaceful prisoners. (Many innocent people are put in the Silo or so says Dad.) Settlers are now piling into the feasting tent and getting ready for the large meal.
We make our way into the marquee with the rest of the crowd. Those who don't fit around the benches are relegated to sitting on the ground and even outside. We're lucky enough to secure seats together at one of the many long tables. I move away from Syon in case he thinks I'm going to chat his ear off and sit across from his mother.
Through the din of bodies settling, I spot Dad. He walks towards us with a grim look on his face. He musses the top of Elody's head as he sits down beside Mom on the bench. He leans in to whisper something in her ear, something she didn't want to hear by her frown.
The tent is brimming beyond capacity. There's no room to move. At all. Yet here come the Motos, both SCMs and privates, marching in: forcing settlers to shrink away from them in fear and contort in weird ways so the police won't step on their feet or hands.
Goliath leads the Motos to the centre of the room with his (seemingly) customary, yet weird, sashay. His hair is smoothed back like nothing had happened a couple of hours ago. He is as calm as when he was terrorizing us and waits until the law force has totally encircled the inside of the pavilion. I bite the inside of my cheek. The taste of blood fills my mouth and it's fitting since this hulking monster is a bringer of pain.
It's a tight squeeze in the tent with the settlers and Motos. It's growing hotter and hotter, making me uncomfortable. I flick sweat dripping down my nose while other mops their brows or necks. The Motos are cool. They wear no expressions on their faces. It's almost like they're not human.
"Greetings," says Goliath. He's speaking neither quietly or loudly yet somehow his voice travels all the way to the back of the tent to where we're sitting.
"It is the anniversary of the date when the world was awakened to the greatness of our leader – Lucius Sebastian. He has brought us out of the darkness and into the light. He has made our Earth one and is one with the Earth. He helped us put down our weapons and learn to love each other. He is delivering us from famine and bringing us into a time of plenty. He is the provider of weather. He is the bringer of rain. We love him as our one and only true leader and god."
Silence. No clapping. No murmurs of doubt. The grim giant goes on.
"He has sent me as his envoy to ensure the settlers of 33 have heard and understand a new strategy his Worldship is rolling out for all our betterment. It's called the We in Weather project and reconnects us all to the life elements of our planet. In order for everyone to be a part of this impetus, every adult over the age of 18 will proceed to the town he or she lived before the New Year's War to register for the annual grand census."
A buzz erupts from the settlers. My mother isn't saying anything but I can tell it's not good news. She's pursing her lips in an attempt not to shout out in anger. Her hands are clenched into fists and I'm scared she's going to use them.
Instinctively, I reach out and place my hand over hers. She visibly loosens but now looks sad.
Once the chattering wave stops in the room, Goliath begins talking again like nothing has happened.
"You have two months to travel to your respective locations. If anyone would like assistance, please let one of our police officials know. We would be happy to help secure your journey. Happy feasting. Pray our great Lord and Supreme Leader Sebastian reigns forever."
With that, he minces out of the tent with the Motos behind him. When the flaps fall shut, the marquee bursts open with noise. No one can understand what is happening. I can hear snippets of conversation going on around me.
"We were included in a census last year?" protests one man in a whisper. "Why would they need another one?"
"Good for Sebastian," says a woman seated behind me. "It's about time they listed everyone. Who knows what is living among us."
"I don't like this," murmurs Syon's mother to mine.
"If they say we have to do it, we have to do it," Mom says softly.
Dad won't have far to go to be counted. Mom, I'm not sure even where she needs to go.
Everyone quiets down a little when the Settler Warden gets up to speak. Warden Cardinal is our representative in the area and voted into the position. I know my parents both respect her.
Holding up a hand to silence the room, Warden Cardinal waits for the people to stop talking. When the place is still, she speaks.
"Settlers. Don't be alarmed," she says calmly. "The census is only to help better our future. Now, let's take a moment to exalt our great leader."
The warden starts singing the global anthem and we all join her in song.
To the Earth, to the sea, to the sky
Thank you
To the birds, to the insects, to the bears
Thank you
To the rocks, to the trees, to the flowers
Thank you
To the roads, to the trails, to the paths
Thank you
To the mountains, to the plains, to the forest
Thank you
To the sun, to the wind, to the rain
Thank you
To our great leader, Lucius Sebastian
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The end of the stupid song means we can eat but no one is moving towards the feasting tables. No one wants to make the first move incase it's their last move. Even though in the last hour the Motos haven't beaten us, just crushed our spirits, settlers don't want to make the situation worse by possibly offending the great leader in some way or another. The rules always seem to be changing.
"Come now," says Warden Cardinal. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Have your meal."
Reluctantly, people start lining up for the feast. There's an inordinate amount of food and I have to admit I can't wait to eat. My mouth's watering when I see plates full of tasty goat and corn go by.
"Can I have my plate?" I ask Mom.
She digs into her backpack and hands the plates out to us. Unfortunately, we don't have any large plates and have to use medium sized ones. Oh, well. I don't want to make myself sick by eating too much anyway.
I join the line and see Aliah a few people in front of me. Aliah Sackville is a girl Syon sometimes hangs out with. I sometimes hang with her too. I hate her. Hate is a strong word but yes, I hate her. She has beautiful thick blonde hair and blue eyes and anything she wants she gets. Her family never has to barter because her parents are rich and buy her all sorts of stuff at the stalls with actual paper money. She could probably have all the goat and corn she wants.
Aliah's dressed in clothing that has kept its shape and colour. Her sweater hasn't been snagged or unraveled and her pants don't have tears at the knees. I look like the country bumpkin I am in my ripped up, faded jeans and ancient brown cardigan. She even has proper shoes on. Black shiny ones with a silver buckle. I pull my pants down lower on my waist so they cover my dusty boots. The scuffed toes peek out anyway.
Oh! She's waving at me.
I wave back. She shakes her head and points behind me. To Syon. He's been in line behind me and I hadn't noticed. He walks up to Aliah and talks to her. Great. I look down at the dirty uneven cuffs of my trousers. I don't need to see Syon fall in love with nasty Aliah.
Ha! I should call him for butting in line. But I don't have to though. He walks back to his spot in the queue, beside Eden.
When I finally get to the food there's much to choose from. Do I want meat or vegetables or both? The stuff made from flour is already gone. Wheat's hard to come by and a real delicacy. The folks at the front of the line were lucky and are eating the bread.
We grow some wheat. A long, long time ago, Dad's family had a cabin on one of the plateaus on the south side of 33. The structure is gone but the land is incredibly valuable. That's where we secretly grow our small crop. We've been growing wheat for several years now on that piece of property. It's a field hidden by large boulders and a deep valley. The field is hush-hush because if anyone found out, they would steal it and leave us with nothing.
With the bread gone from the feast table, I heap up my plate with as much other stuff as I can. I take carrots and beets and goat and nuts and lettuce and slather it all in a type of brown (not all things bad are brown) sauce. My plate is piled so high I'm afraid it'll tip over while I'm carrying to the table. Once seated, my only mission is to eat.
Picking up a carrot, I shovel it in. I use my fingers because Crinae forgot the forks. (She only bought spoons and knives.) I don't care. The faster I eat, the sooner I can go back for seconds. My sisters and Syon and Eden are doing the same thing. I don't even think I'm tasting the food.
The adults are slowly putting one thing in their mouths at a time. Savouring their meals. They're talking about what it used to be like before the war, before the planet was half-dead.
"Remember when all you had to do was walk into a grocery store and you could get whatever you want?"
"I do! I sure miss those days. I'd do anything for ice cream."
"Or a hot dog!"
I have never tasted ice cream before but you can buy dog meat sometimes. That's weird that someone liked to eat it a long time ago.
Finishing my plate of fare before my sisters, and even Syon, I get up to get more. I almost run to the tables I'm in such a hurry to grab seconds. There's so much I haven't even tasted yet.
I pick up a serving spoon that's sitting on some beans. It must have had a bit of grease on it because it slips out of my fingers, falling onto the dirt. It's about the worst thing I could do at the feast (besides stealing).
"Crap kid," grumbles a man beside me. "Get out of here. Some of us haven't even eaten the first time. Why do you Aeternian jerks get to cut the line?"
"What did you say about?" I ask, looking at a neighbour named Steve. "You're the jerk."
"What's going on here?"
It's Greg, the young Moto who took my name earlier. He stands several centimetres taller than the complainant.
"This kid's knocking food off the table," says Steve, pointing at the spoon laying in the sand.
Greg picks up the utensil and cleans it on his uniform lapel, leaving a dark streak on the sharp collar.
"No harm done, sir," he says as he gently puts the spoon back on the plate of beans. "Naia, help yourself."
"Um, thanks. I'm not hungry anymore."
"Are you okay?" It's not Greg talking to me. It's Syon who, next to Greg, seems to have shrunk.
"I'm good," I say. "I'm going to go back to my seat. Thanks for your help."
I nod to Greg and Syon and walk back to my family. Elody and Crinae aren't full. They head to the tables for more and come back with heaping plates. Halfway through eating though, they have to stop.
"Do you want some of this?" Crinae says to Dad.
"Why? Can't eat it all?" he asks.
"I can't fit in another carrot."
"Your eyes were bigger than your stomach," Dad laughs. "Here, give it to me. I'll eat it."
The serving dishes are gradually emptied of their provisions and when they've been scraped clean they're gathered up and put outside. Next the tables are collapsed and cleared out of the way for music and dancing.
A few men and women get up with instruments and head to the open area. They're carrying guitars, flutes, harmonicas and a couple of elk skin drums. At the first beat of the drums, some people go to the middle of the floor and start to dance.
I love this part of the festival. When everyone is united under the tent with a full belly and content. Ready to relax and enjoy themselves. It's a great feeling because under normal circumstances this never happens. We're not allowed to be in large groups and when we meet in smaller circles, most of us are usually hungry. Plus on edge. You never know what the other person wants from you.
Tonight it doesn't seem that people are letting the Motos get them down. Dresses are swirling around the dance floor and feet are tapping to the melodies. I want to get up and join the revelers but I'm too shy to go alone. There's no way I'm going to ask Syon to dance with me. No way.
I have a quick look at him. He's drumming his fingers on the table to the tune. He turns and catches me staring at him.
Oh, oh.
I spin my head around in the opposite direction. Too late. I feel my face flush red.
"Nice one, stupid," I scold myself. Although I hope he took this as a hint I want to dance.
"Let's dance," says Elody.
That's not who I hoped would ask.
Elody wants us all to start grooving and looks at Syon to see if he wants to come with us. He shakes his head no but Elody doesn't care. She's young and things tend to roll right off her back.
Mom pushes my shoulder and then Crinae's.
"Dance with your sister. It'll be fun."
Might as well. Crinae and I get up and join the moving crowd. There are lots of other kids here mixing with the grown-ups. The air around the musicians is hot, heated from the various performers gyrating. The space is pungent with different odors. People are pressing in on me but I can't help but laugh with delight as my sisters and I spin around the floor making room for ourselves.
Soon we're thirsty and leave the pulsing crowd. We wind our way back to where our parents sit, Dad's arm is around Mom and Mom has her head on his shoulder. It's rare to see them this relaxed.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
It's a cry from a woman, a familiar woman. Syon's mother? It's a cry for help. It's a cry of anger. It's a cry of anguish.
Both Mom and Dad jump to a standing position. They spot us and run over, lacing their arms and encircling us. The pavilion is quiet. Dead quiet. No one moves. No one dare moves. Moving makes you a target for whatever has trouble in store for you be it Moto, Waterstealer or Unmentionable.
What's happening? Is someone hurt?
The rumble of motorcycles starting causes a stir at the front.
"The Motos are leaving," comes a call through the air.
Settlers begin gathering their things. They're picking up the dishes and instruments and tables that they had brought down the mountainside.
"Grab your sweater," says Dad to me. "We're leaving."
I'd like to say bye to Syon, where ever he went. Standing on my tiptoes, I scan the room. I see neighbours and family friends but no Syon.
"Wonder where he went?" I ask myself. I wonder if he saw me dancing. I would have asked him to dance if that person hadn't screamed. Yeah, I probably would have danced with Syon. For sure I would have. I just needed to get my nerve up and then I would have. If he had only stuck around.
"I'm thirsty," says Crinae.
Mom gives her a sip of water from a container she's carrying.
"Time to go home," she says.
"No way!" cries Elody. "I don't want to go yet."
"Elody!" says Mom. "Don't talk to me like that. Dimitri, you deal with her while I go get our platter. I'm not leaving for these people."
Mom walked away while Dad gave Elody a piece of string to play Cat's Cradle with. By now the crowd has thinned out around us. I still haven't see Syon.
"Our dish is gone," says Mom with a sigh. "That teaches me to bring my best platter to a mixed event."
Dad gives Mom a little squeeze.
"Sorry, Peggy," he says. "That was the last of your parents' china set."
"Naia!"
It's Syon. Running straight for me. Tears rolling down his face and snot bubbling from his nose.
"They have my mom! They took her. They took my mom!"
"Who took her, son?" asks Dad, putting a hand on Syon's shoulder.
"The SCM," sobbed Syon, collapsing on the ground. "They got her. Because, because she's an Aeternian."