Deluge

Not too bad maybe, Murel thought optimistically.

That’s not for us, silly. That must be where the guards live, Ronan told her. Before we landed did you see over there, across the island, through the trees, where that dirt road from the village is going? That other stone wall with those buildings behind it? That would be where they’re taking us.

“What are you kids? Hard of hearing?” Austin demanded. “Get out.”

Rory jumped down ahead of them, Dewey right behind him, then the twins; Huy and Chesney helped the younger ones.

Two more soldiers met them at the landing zone. They were a man and a woman a little younger than the twins’ parents. The man was fairly slight, and the wind blew back his fatigue hat to reveal thinning brown hair. His gray eyes were as unfriendly and turbulent as storm clouds. Father’s eyes were gray too, but tended to vary from the softness of the silkiest gray fur to sparkling silver when he was amused. The twins were told that their eyes had turned from the same gray as their father’s to blue when they were toddlers.

The woman greeting them was a little taller than the man, with short blond hair, a trim build, and thin lips curved into the shape of a smile. She wore the visored cap version of the uniform hat, which shaded her eyes, so they couldn’t see what color they were.

“Welcome to Camp Neverland,” the man said. “I’m Captain Nobel Keester, medical doctor and commandant of the camp. This is my assistant, Second Lieutenant Portia Bunyon.”

“This way, children,” the woman said. “Hurry or you’ll miss your meal for the day. You’ve still to be processed in.”

“What’s that mean?” Rory asked.

“You’ll see soon enough,” the man said in a way that Murel couldn’t help feeling was ominous.

Catching the glance the twins exchanged, the woman dropped back and stepped between them, putting her arms over their shoulders in what looked like a maternal gesture but felt like a herding maneuver.

“It’s nothing. A few vaccinations-you two are old enough not to mind a needle or two-and a delousing.”

“We don’t have lice!” Murel told her.

“I’m not saying you do, but some here do. The haircut we give you will make sure you don’t get them either. You’ll find it’s cooler too. Snap it up now, you don’t want to miss your meal. Normally, incoming kids are bathed right away, but it’s late, and if you don’t eat now, you’ll go hungry until mealtime tomorrow, so the doc is making an exception for you this time.”

The twins exchanged looks and a relieved Whew!

They allowed themselves to be herded through the gate, which closed behind them, blocking their view of the sea. Murel felt for a moment as if she were being smothered.

I know, me too, Ro told her. But stifle it. The water will still be there when we need it. It doesn’t look like they keep kids under lock and key, or even keep very good track of us so far. We’ll get out when we have to.

Murel thought maybe there’d be a dining hall with tables, but instead there was a long line of kids with bowls waiting for a soldier to ladle what looked like soup or thin stew into their bowls. An older boy handed each child a single slice of bread as they filed past and returned to the huts or tried to find somewhere to sit down and eat.

All of the kids except their group had shaved heads and wore loose tunics over bare legs. A few looked to be eleven or twelve but most appeared younger. Although it was hard to tell with the haircuts and outfits, Murel thought there seemed to be more girls than boys.

They joined the line, letting the smaller kids go first. By the time Murel got there, there was nothing left but rather putrid-looking watery stuff. She wasn’t too worried. There was water nearby. If she and Ro could get close enough, they’d catch some fish.

Dewey, balancing his bread and bowl, was looking for a place to sit. “Here, kid, I’ll hold that for you while you take a seat,” an older girl said. She was tall and her build blocky, her skin about the same dark olive as theirs; the stubble on her head was black, and she looked familiar to Murel. She snatched Dewey’s bread, which tore, and when Dewey tried to pull his bowl away from her, it flew out of both their grasps and hit the ground, spilling the soup.

“Fraggin’ new kid!” the girl snarled. “Look at that. He’s so fat he can afford to waste food.”

Both of the people who had met the shuttle had disappeared, and the soldier who’d served the food did not look up from stowing his soup barrel and utensils aboard a small flitter.

“Hey,” Chesney said, dropping her empty bowl and rushing forward. “Leave him alone, you. Isn’t it bad enough we have to be here without picking on each other?”

Without answering, the other girl punched Chesney in the nose. Blood spurted.

Huy stood up and started toward her. Obviously, prison or no prison, camp or no camp, they were their own law and order here. Ronan and Murel and all of the space-station kids advanced on the bully girl, but she was quickly joined by what seemed to be every other kid in the camp.