Sky on Fire

Niko collapsed onto the easy chair.



“That’s my chair,” Mario growled. Then he took a second look at Niko and changed his tone. “But you can stay there for a bit.”



Mario fished a pack of pills out of his caddy and tossed it in Niko’s lap.



“Benadryl. Take four.” He looked around and his eyes caught mine. “You, there. Can you get your friend a glass of water?”



“Okay,” I said.



“Glasses in first cabinet there and water’s in the corner. Not too much water at first, you kids. Take two sips, then wait a moment. Then two more and so on. Otherwise you’ll all retch.”



I opened the shelves. It seemed like it had been years since I opened a kitchen cabinet and looked at stacks of dishes and glasses standing neatly in a line.



I took a jelly glass from the shelf. It had cherries painted on it and a yellow stripe around the rim.



Against the wall there was a large spring water bottle on a stand.



“Can I have some water, too?” Sahalia asked. “Please?”



Her voice was funny and I saw she was crying.



“Of course. You all need water right away. And food, too. We’ll get to that. First I have to help this one. And you have to get cleaned up.”



My hand shook as I filled the jelly glass. I took two sips.



It was so clean, that water. I felt it go into my chest and through my whole, parched body, it felt like.



Sahalia had come next to me and I gave her the glass. She took a long drink.



“Can we have some, too?” Batiste asked.



I went over to him and let him drink from the glass. Then Ulysses had some and by that time there was none left for Niko.



“There are enough glasses for everyone, you kids,” Mario crabbed.



But we were used to sharing. We didn’t care.



I refilled the glass and took two more sips. Then I walked over and gave it to Niko. His hands were bloody and blistered.



“Thanks,” he said. His voice was like gravel.



“Fella, what’s your name?” Mario asked me.



“Alex Grieder,” I told him.



“Well, I’m Mario Scietto. You seem to have your wits about you. You want to help me with this one?” He nodded toward Max.



“Max,” I supplied. “Sure.”



“You, missy!” Mario said to Sahalia. “There’s a shower in the back.”



“Oh my God, really?” Sahalia asked, perking up.



“It’s on a timer. You can each have two minutes. Hot water and everything, but two minutes is all, you hear me? It’s well water, and it’s a good deep well, but the hot water heater takes too much power.”



“Yes, sir.”



“And be smart about it. Use soap and shampoo and scrub ’til you’re clean. Don’t waste water—it’s the only shower you’re going to get.”



“Yes, sir.”



“And put your underthings in a bag, too. The lot of you stink to high heaven. Put those boys in first and watch over them. When they get out, there’s clean clothes you’ll find in the dresser back there. Put them in some of my pajamas, you hear. And there’s some women’s clothes you can use, for yourself.”



“Come on, you guys,” Sahalia said, herding Batiste and Ulysses to their feet.



No arguments from them—they went off to the back, stumbling with tiredness, but excited to get clean.



I glanced at Niko. He was already asleep.



“Now, we’re going to remove your friend’s layers and then we’re going to clean and treat his wounds,” Mario said. “Do you think you can help me to do that?”



I nodded.



“Good boy.”



I almost fell asleep a couple times, but I helped Mario bathe and bandage Max’s feet.



There was some Troxoidal in one of the caddies. I remembered it as the demi-steroid Jake had been handing out to speed healing.



“This might help him,” I said, showing Mario the pack.



I said it like a fact, but it was more of a question.



“Good thinking,” Mario told me, examining the pack. “Adult dosage is two tabs every six hours. Let’s give him half that.”



So I popped out a pill and put it under Max’s tongue. It melted almost right away. It was still a little bloody in there, in the spit.



* * *



Sahalia, Batiste, and Ulysses had all showered by the time we got Max’s feet wrapped up.



“Wish I had a bathtub,” Mario muttered as he finished wrapping Max’s feet in gauze.



“Why?” I asked.



“Well, I still gotta get Max here clean. He’s going to trigger the air filter with all this filth.”



He lifted the seat of the couch opposite us. The whole couch had a storage space under the seat.



Pretty cool. I guess in a bomb shelter every inch counts.



The storage space was filled with blankets. He took out a metallic blanket. Like the one that Niko brought you, Dean, back at Greenway after the hailstorm. Do you remember?



He wrapped the blanket over Max.



“Maybe that’ll help,” he said to himself. Then he tucked one over Niko’s sleeping body for good measure.



I got the feeling that he cared more about getting the air filter to turn off than he did about their warmth, but I didn’t begrudge him that.



“I could take a look at your air-filtration system,” I offered. “I’m good with power systems.”



“Nope, I don’t want you poking around back there.” He glanced at a metal door at the end of the bunker. It probably led to a machine room of some kind.



Then my stomach growled. Really loud.



“What’s that you say?” Mario asked.



“I didn’t say anything.”



“Yeah, you did.”



“No, it was just—”



My stomach made another sound.



“You’re growling at me. What kind of thing is that to do, after all I done for you?”



I looked at him. Was he serious? Was Mario actually mad at me?



No, he was joking. His eyes were twinkling. He gave my knee a slap.



I tend to read machines better than I read people.



“Go hop in the shower. While you clean up, I’ll get some food ready.”



* * *



It was a feast. To us, anyway.



Lentil soup, brown rice, graham crackers, and applesauce.



Batiste and Ulysses were both in Mario’s pajamas. Sahalia was wearing some kind of muumuu she’d found in the bunkroom. She made it look cool, somehow.



I had on a white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.



We all sat around the table (the table was just beyond the kitchen, but before the bunkroom) and grinned at one another.



Mario busied himself fussing in the kitchen and both telling us not to eat too fast and also to eat more at the same time.



We kept offering Mario some soup, but he waved us away.



“I hate that lentil soup,” he grouched. “I’m glad to give it to you. Now, I won’t have to eat it.”



“More, please,” Ulysses said, holding out his bowl.



Mario ruffled Ulysses’s hair.



He could be nice, when he wasn’t barking out orders or yelling at us about hot water.



Just as we finished eating, Niko woke up.



Mario sent him right to the shower.



While Niko was in the shower, Mario decided we needed to get Max clean, too. Mario and I stripped Max down to his undies, which was weird since Max was totally konked out. But he really did need to get clean. He had so many blisters and open sores—I knew he was at risk of infection.



Sahalia helped me to carry Max to the shower where we basically handed him to Niko, who was just rinsing off.



Niko held Max while I lathered him up.



Mario had taped plastic Baggies over Max’s bandaged feet, but blood from his face and his other blisters went swirling down the drain along with grit and general filth. I had had plenty of that, too, during my shower.



Eventually the water went clear, though it did take longer than two minutes. Mario looked the other way on that one.



“Lay him down on the last bunk,” Mario directed when the shower was done. He had sealed Niko’s and Max’s clothes in a bag.



Niko walked out of the shower wet and completely naked and lay Max in the bunk.



I admire Niko. Sometimes I don’t know how he does it. He didn’t seem to care at all that Sahalia could see his naked everything. I would have rather died.



The air filter, finally, turned off.



“That’s a relief,” Mario said.



* * *



The bunks were long and narrow. We could fit two kids on each, toe to toe. Sahalia took the first one with Ulysses at her feet. I took the one above them.



I got into bed and it felt like heaven. To be safe and warm again was the best feeling in the world.



Mr. Scietto came over and tucked me in. It was cute. And I kind of liked it.



“Mr. Scietto?” I asked quietly.



“Yes?”



“Do we really have to leave tomorrow? I just wanted to know.”



“We’ll see, Alex. I don’t know. It depends on the power system.”



“If we could stay for a couple more days, I know Max would get better.…”



Mr. Scietto did that corny old bit where he pretended to grab my nose.



“You’re a good boy. You follow directions and you’re polite,” he said. “Maybe you should think about staying with me. I have enough provisions for two, to last us near seven weeks, if we’re careful. I rather think the mess upstairs will be sorted by then.”



It was nice, to be asked. I said I would think about it.



* * *



But I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I did like the idea of working on his system. And I didn’t want to go back into the violent, horrible world above.



But I didn’t really think about it. Not for very long, anyway.



CHAPTER NINETEEN



ALEX



17–10 MILES



I totally blew it. I blew it for us.



The air filter came on. That’s all.



It was the middle of the night and everyone was asleep and I knew Mr. Scietto would be upset it was on again, so I just thought I would take a look at the system. I figured there had to be a way to shut it off manually.