Friend On The Hook

1142 ADI

“Levi, I’m not sure I want to do this.” Greg’s knuckles are white as he grips the hand controls of my flying contraption. His body is squeezed into the carefully crafted, open-top, wooden cockpit. Two massive, canvased wings reach to the heavens. I pop out a concealed crank and, with the help of internal mechanisms, ease the wings down, inch by inch, considering the breeze and the slant of the hill. “Levi?” Greg’s voice wobbles as he looks up at me.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re just about ready for take off.” I give him a thumbs up while checking support cables.

“Maybe we should wait and do this later,” he says.

“Oh, c'mon, you were the one who kept talking about wanting to be a bird,” I remind the pudgy child who trembles with what I can only imagine is excitement. I made sure to strap him in tight—for safety, of course. I also gave him aviator goggles to protect his eyes from the wind. They look good on him. They make him look… official.

“This isn’t a bird, Levi.”

“But it flies like one.”

“Have you tested it?” He looks to me for reassurance.

I consider lying, but think twice of it. “That’s what you’re for,” I say with a wide smile, patting him on the makeshift helmet I made months ago with this project in mind. 

“Why don’t you test it?” Greg whines.

I roll my eyes. “Because I can’t fit into the cockpit.”

“Why didn’t you make it bigger?” He cuts me a wide-eyed glance.

“Greg,” I place a hand on his shoulder, “I wasn’t thinking of myself when I built this. I was thinking of you. All this work is for you.”

He looks forward without a word.

Thank goodness; I’m tired of explaining things. I’ve done everything I can to prepare him. Everything is perfect. I won’t let him back out now—for his own sake. We’re too close to greatness. He will be the first child in Bethesda to look down at it from above, and I will finally have a machine that I can boast about.

“Ready?” I say, holding my hand over the button that will release the brakes.

“What? No!” Greg cries.

I smack the button and the wheels start to spin.

“Levi! Make it stop! Hellllp!” 

He is going to have so much fun, I think, as I watch the three-wheeled glider pick up speed and catch air under its canvas wings. It’ll work this time. I know it will.  “Pull up!” I call out to Greg, motioning with my hands as if he can see me.

He must have heard me because the machine lifts off, one foot, two feet, three feet into the air. I stare in complete awe at the momentary success and prepare myself for a cheer. As my hands raise and a shout builds in my lungs, a gust of wind sends the glider off-kilter. I watch as it veers off course and heads towards the forest that crawls down the hill. I clench my teeth as the wings are simultaneously torn off by two towering pines, leaving the cab to plummet on its own. Instinct tells me to close my eyes, but I don’t listen. I have to see this. It will help me understand what to do differently next time.

The cockpit, with Greg tucked inside, touches the ground and, for a moment, I think the wheels will carry him to safety—but I’m wrong. The front wheel buckles and snaps off, causing the whole thing to twist and tumble. I wince as wooden gears, levers, and supports explode outwards and Greg disappears into a large patch of bushes with what little is left of my invention. 

I stand, speechless, processing what went wrong. Wing stability? No. Cabin height? No. Take off direction in correspondence to wind angle? Hmmm. Maybe. Whatever it is, I’ll get it right next time and make sure Greg is properly trained for the adjustments. Oh—Greg! 

Momentum drags me down the hill as I run with a wide gait, arms stretched wide to balance my wiry frame. Getting closer, I slow myself and step carefully over the wreckage of unsalvagable parts. What a shame Greg didn’t crash into something softer. “Greg!” I call out to the bushes. There is a chasm cut through them, carved by the tumbling cockpit. “Are you alive in there?”

I hear a groan and the rustling of foliage. Pushing my way through, I find Greg, upside down, suspended by seatbelts, hanging from the cockpit that is thoroughly intertwined with the lower branches of a small pine tree. “I think my arms are broken,” he moans.

“Oh, you’re fine,” I say, checking around him for any usable parts.

“My head is fuzzy,” he says, blinking his eyes behind the dusty aviator goggles.

“I’ve got you, friend,” I say, releasing the seatbelt straps and reaching up to give him support as he slides from the casing. With a satisfying “pop” Greg's plump body ejects and I catch him just in time before his head hits the grassy hillside. I look him up and down, checking his arms first. They don’t look broken. His face has some nasty scratches, but besides that, the kid looks good. I stand him up, dust off his shoulders, and give him a big smile. “Now, wasn’t that fun?” 

He’s shaking now. Why is he shaking? “I’m done, Levi. Done!” he says, stomping his foot. “Ow!” 

“What do you mean, done? You had it! You were flying! A few more adjustments and…”

“No! No more. Jeremy told me you are a bad friend. I should have listened to him.” 

A twinge of frustration pulls me from my excitement. “Bad friend? I did all of this for you,” I say, still taken aback.

“All you care about is your stupid inventions.” A tear runs down Greg's cheek.

“Oh, c'mon. Don’t cry. You’re still alive aren’t you?”

“Barely!”

“Just drink some tea, you’ll be fine. I’ll build a new machine, one that is easier to fly.”

“Build one for yourself. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.” He crosses his arms. 

What is wrong with him? He was so excited last week when I showed him the machine. Is one crash really enough to scare him off? “What do I have to do to make you happy?” I say with frustration.

“Leave me alone.”

I scoff out a laugh. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m done.” He turns and starts to walk away.

“Who’s going to try my next flying machine?” I call after him.

He turns with anger flaring in his eyes as he rips off the helmet and goggles and throws them on the ground. “I don’t care.” 

I reel backward, placing a hand on my chest. As I do, my foot lands on something hard and I look down to find a steering wheel. That looks usable. I start cataloging other usable parts and by the time I look back at Greg, he is halfway down the hill. “Fine! Just leave, like everyone else!” I yell after him, but my attention is still on the wreckage.

The cart that once held the flying machine now holds its disconnected corpse as I haul it into Bethesda. I make an effort to smile and wave to as many people as possible as I work my way over the bumpy farmland streets. A frail, toad-faced woman on a porch swing waves back. The movement causes her jowls to wiggle and flap. I close my eyes and pull my smile tighter to avoid staring at her terrifying appearance. 

Fruit trees decorate the edges of the street. I pull a ripe-looking plum from one, take a big bite, and look at the farmhouse beyond. If I had the time, I would stop and check if Mrs. Finnemore baked cookies this morning. She often leaves fresh batches on her kitchen windowsill for anyone walking by. If you know where to look, and I do, you can get a whole meal with a quick walk around town. 

Walking farther, I find a pack of kids playing with a ball in a recently harvested field off the side of the road. Most are younger than me; there are a few I don’t recognize. My eyes pull to the corpse of my flying machine and then back to some of the younger kids. It wouldn’t hurt to make an introduction. “Hey! What are you guys up to?” I say with a big smile.

I’m ready for a bombardment of questions about my cart and its interesting contents when I’m interrupted by one of the older kids, a boy named Keith. “Don’t start, Levi. Not here. Not these kids.” He stands a good foot taller than me, as most kids do. Being short is the worst. I’m still holding onto hope that I will hit a late growth spurt and shoot past them all, although I don’t think I’ll be so lucky.

“Keith,” I pack my tone with disapproval, acknowledging the lanky brat. “I didn’t see you.”

Keith blinks, unamused. He was one of my first friends here in Bethesda. Our mothers used to set us up on friend dates—until one of my experiments burned his eyebrows off. Now, he stands as a gatekeeper to potential friendships. I look beyond to the other kids as they observe our tense conversation. Realizing that I have been defeated by the troll at the bridge, I quit while I’m ahead. “Anyways, I see you guys are busy so I won’t be a bother.” I smile, although I wish nothing more than to throw a wrench at his head.

Keith rolls his eyes and returns to the pack. I clench my fist with frustration. The longer I live here, the harder it is to get anything done. “Live at peace with your neighbors,” the teachers always say. How am I supposed to do that with pimple-nosed gremlins like Keith lurking around every corner? With a huff, I turn back to my cart and continue my trek home, looking for unguarded kids but expecting to find nothing. 

As I leave the farmland streets, I see the Chesters’ house up and to my left. Can I call it a house? It’s more like a quilt, rooms patched together, sewn onto its ever-growing exterior. It towers amidst several other dwellings around the base of Bethesda’s center mountain. A tall, muscular-looking boy who I don’t recognize sits out front on a knee-high stone wall. He looks to be close to my age. Bingo! Beyond him is a large wagon with two trunks on its massive bed. Two women in dresses and a teacher wearing a grey robe stand next to the cart. I recognize one of the women but not the other. I look back to the boy. He must be new in town. Lucky me, but only if I act quickly. I scan for any of the numerous Chester kids. If they get to him first, they’ll ruin him. The most likely scenario is that he will be knitting socks and sipping tea by the end of the week. If I pass by, they will brainwash him. I won’t let that happen. I will save him. I pull my cart to the side of the road and approach, exuding confidence, ready to win my prize. 

“Well hello, my good man,” I say, reciting a line I read from a book.

His eyes draw up to me, but he doesn’t respond. With still features he stares, examining me from my shoes to my dirty brown curls, his eyes stopping now and again as if he is checking every stitch of my clothing for flaws. The silence is deafening and I clear my throat. 

“I’m Levi, and you are?”

“Cain!” one of the women calls out from beyond, I believe her name is Jeniene. 

I watch as the boy sighs and blinks before looking me in the eyes. “Give me a second,” he says, his voice lower than what I expected. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he sizes me up once more and then turns to join the small group next to the cart.

What’s with this kid?

A few moments pass and I observe as Jeniene ruffles his hair and whispers in his ear. At one point she points to me. Oh, great. Is she going to gatekeep me too? I watch as the boy hugs the other woman before holding her out by the shoulders and looking into her eyes to say something. She smiles and he smiles back with a nod before turning and walking back my way. 

Here it comes. I prepare myself for the, “I’m sorry but I can’t hang out with you. Jeniene says you are bad news.” But to my surprise, he walks right past me, waving me to follow him. 

What is going on? “So,” I say, trotting to his side. “Your name’s Cain?”

“Yeah,” he says without looking back.

“Is it alright if I leave my cart here?”

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere not here.”

“Could you be more cryptic?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

His responses leave me dumbstruck. I’m supposed to be the one offering to show him around town. It’s my job to teach him the ropes. Why am I following him? Get yourself together Levi, I scold myself. “Do you want to see my lab? I build all sorts of cool things,” I say, casting my net. 

“Maybe,”  he says, cutting me a glance. “Do you want to see something even cooler?”

 I don’t know if I should be offended. I do want to see something cool, but not at the expense of my quickly fading power over this potential friendship. “Sure. I guess,” I add, trying to seem disinterested. 

His expression shifts and for the first time, I see him grin. With a nod of his head, we disappear into a nearby alleyway. He takes a moment to look left and right before pulling up his shirt. I stare at the polished wooden handle sticking from his belt. He grabs it with a tight grip and pulls, revealing a large straight blade. It’s the biggest knife I have ever seen, by a long shot.

“Are you allowed to have that?” I ask, checking the alley nervously.

Cain shrugs. “Haven’t asked.”

“Then why are we hiding in an alley?”

“Because I don’t want to ask, and I would rather people not ask me questions,” he says, making a lot of sense. “If someone tells me to burn or toss it, I will.”

I blink, amazed at how nonchalantly he acts about such serious things. More and more, I want to ask him questions. I want to know where he came from, how he got such a knife, what he plans to use it for… Is he a murderer? My mind wanders for a moment, imagining him as a serial killer. I shake my head. He wouldn’t be here if he killed people.

“Where did you get it?” I say, my disinterested act waning. 

He smiles and twirls the blade in his hands. “I got it from Twilight,” he says.

My eyes go wide. “Like, Twilight Twilight?

“Yeah, but not like the Twilight you have around here. There were clusters of abandoned buildings near where I used to live. I explored ‘em all the time. Found this in a trunk.”

He doesn’t look older than fourteen, how was he allowed to do such things? Did he sneak off without asking permission? My parents are extremely lax but even they don’t let me cross the border of Reclamation, let alone venture off into Twilight. 

“You must have cool parents,” I say, still looking at the blade.

He sighs, as if suddenly upset, and I watch as a deep breath re-flattens his expression. “I didn’t need to ask permission if that is what you are implying.”

I don’t feel like pressing, I want to stay on his good side. Why do I want to stay on his good side?

He looks at me intently. “Have you ever been to Twilight?”

I blink and almost forget to respond. “Um… Yeah, several times,” I lie. 

He blinks back.

Shoot. He knows. He sees right through me. Stupid, Levi. Stupid!

“Wanna go now? See if we can find anything cool,” he says flatly. 

Fear mixes with excitement inside the cauldron that is my gut. I’ve always wondered what I could find beyond Reclamation, what old inventions I might be able to bring back to life. Mother’s out of the house today and Dad is… Dad won’t be free for a while, nor does he care what I do. “Sure,” I blurt out. “Let’s do it!”

He smiles. “Good. I was starting to wonder if you were boring.” 

“Boring?” I laugh. “I’m far from boring.”

I watch as his shoulders drop, as if he removed a layer of armor. In one moment, his demeanor softens. Has he accepted me? Was all of this a test? Why should I care if it is? I push the thoughts aside. I have never wanted to be someone’s friend so badly. “I’ll get us past Reclamation, I’ve been keeping an eye on things for a while now,” I say, confident in my abilities but terrified of following through.

“Lead the way then, my good man,” he says with a smile, copying my words but adding a bow.

I nod with excitement and we head off towards the border of Bethesda. It’s a good thing I did my research. Reclamation crews work in shifts. Every few hours they take a break and wait for others to replace them. If you listen to the sound of the pickaxes and wait for them to stop, you can tell when one shift ends. Then all you have to do is wait twenty minutes for the workers to clear out. This is when the way is clear. I don’t tell Cain this. Instead, I make him wait at the edge of the treeline that overlooks Reclamation as I listen intently. He doesn’t ask questions and waits patiently for my signal. Does he trust me this much already?

“Alright, should be clear,” I whisper.

With a nod, we lift our bodies from behind the bushes and dash across the field that separates Bethesda from Reclamation. Piles of loose rubble decorate the divide, the result of hundreds of torn-down structures from the old world. I consider for a moment how much useful stuff is buried under the hill I pushed Greg down earlier. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to dig any of it up.

Only certain children are allowed to enter Reclamation, and they come and go quickly, bringing food and drink to work crews. I am not one of those children. If we get caught out here, the punishment will be severe. They’ll probably make me scrub the floors of the church again. With plenty of time to turn back, I consider if all of this is worth it. If I find even one useful thing out here it will be. Besides, I can’t turn back now, not with him here.

“You good?” Cain whispers as we creep into the sea of vine-covered buildings that make up Reclamation.

I shake off the nerves. “Yeah, of course. I do this all the time.”

“Good. I’m trusting you to keep us away from wandering eyes.” 

“This will be easy,” I say, trying to be sure of myself, knowing my own limitations. It’s easy to retreat into my mind, especially when things are stressful. Unfortunately, I can’t live in my head and pay attention to my surroundings. This is a problem that I am more than aware of. Acknowledging this, I put all of my effort into what’s around me, listening intently and keeping my head on a swivel. I’m able to do this for maybe ten minutes. 

As we travel deeper, the roads become more cluttered and I stop seeing signs of reclamation. No flags, no chalk marks, nothing. Ancient machines now clutter the grassy streets. I believe they are called cars. Comfortable that we are in the clear, I stand up straight, stretch, and take a deep yawning breath.

“You waving to the Twilight dwellers?” Cain says, and I’m pulled back to the reality of the situation. Now panicked, I lower my arms and duck behind a small red car with the word Fiat inscribed on its rear.

“Did you see one?” I ask, nervously checking up and down the roadway. 

Cain continues to stand in the middle of the street, and as I look up, I notice that he is grinning. If that was a joke, it wasn’t funny. Does he think he’s better than me? I’m getting tired of these tests. Frustration mounts and I’m ready to voice it, but as I open my mouth, he reaches out his hand and gives me a reassuring smile. I take it and he hoists me up.

“First time is always the hardest,” he says.

When did he know I was bluffing, or is he trying to trick me into admitting something he only thinks is true? 

I feign confusion, expecting him to press further. He doesn’t, but instead turns and strolls farther into the forgotten city. “You coming?” he says, glancing back.

I brush the dust from the back of my shirt and pants. “Yeah, yeah. Yeah.” I add one too many yeahs and scurry to catch up, attempting to lasso my brain and keep my eyes peeled for movement in the coves and crevices of the ruins.

My attention doesn’t last long. 

People tell stories about Twilight, horrible stories. Some say that Twilight dwellers eat human flesh because it's hard to hunt for animals when the animals hunt you back. Others say that angels fly around and kill anything that moves. I don’t know which fate would be worse. The teachers are no help with the matter. They only talk about how safe the settlements are and say that we will be okay as long as we do what is right. Dad struggles with that concept. It’s why he has been serving everyone but himself for the past decade.

I won’t be anyone's servant.

Climbing over rubble heaps is difficult but necessary when traversing the side streets. We give ourselves a break and head to the main road, or what used to be the main road. Tall grass pushes up around two lines of cars that point in the direction of Bethesda. It looks like they were running from something. The other side of the road is littered with small trees and bushes. I walk between the cars, checking inside for anything useful.

“Don’t bother,” Cain says.

“Why?”

“Cars get picked clean first, anything useful is already gone. They even take the mirrors.”

This puzzles me. “What mirrors?” I say, checking the line of cars for reflections.

“Exactly.” 

Large plastic and metal letters sit on the side of the grassy roadway, spelling out the word “Scarf.” The rest of the letters hang from the mostly intact building, spelling “Bray.” 

“Anything good in there?” I ask, looking at Cain.

He climbs the front steps and looks through the hollow openings that lead into the structure. “Looks like a bunch of metal boxes. I’ve seen these in the homes I used to find. I think they were used by people to do… something.” 

“What do they do now?” 

He shrugs. “Want to find out?”

I do, but I’m not sure what's safer, the wide open street, or the dark interior of a building that looks like it might collapse at any moment. Curiosity makes the decision for me and I nod. “Let’s do it,” I say confidently. 

The air inside is dense and cold. I pull out my light orb and click the button on its underside. It illuminates the area around me. Shadows stretch from the head-height wall of metal boxes within. Large metal beams protrude from the floor and brace against the mostly dark ceiling. I hope they are as sturdy as they look. Darkness veils the room, only pierced by the few vertical sunbeams that leak through small cracks in the ceiling, casting light upon small patches of dirt and moss that have collected on the forgotten inventions. 

“What do these do?” I say, keeping my voice low as I approach a tall shiny box with two long handles connected to doors on its front.

I grab a handle and pull. There is nothing inside, just shelves. Shelves for what? There is a booklet taped to the side, covered in plastic. I pull it from its sheath. A manual. Half of the words are in foreign languages. I find the pages that are in English and begin to read.

Cain wanders up to a shorter box and hops on to take a seat, then looks around the dark room. Where is his light orb? Does he have one? Does he want one? I’ll get him one when we get back later. I have some custom ones in my shop. Moving a small glass piece at the front of my own customized light orb I aim the ambient light into a soft beam to make reading easier. 

“Re-frig-erator?” I say. The word feels weird in my mouth. “I think these are ice boxes, like the ones we have at home, but they aren’t run by the energy in the air.” I check the back of the machine and find a wrapped-up rubber rope with three metal prongs sticking from its end. “I wonder if this is where its power comes from. It’s certainly old technology. How odd.”

Cain says nothing, he seems content to let me explore the space. I start by collecting as many booklets as I can find. They will help me to learn the interworkings of this ancient technology. Maybe I can get one working. The back of the room is the darkest, so I turn up my light orb, pushing more power through its glass filaments to amplify its glow. 

“Don’t break that,” a gentle female voice says from somewhere above. I jerk, throwing the orb into the air. Its focused beam of light twirls as it arcs over a line of refrigerators and smashes on the ground beyond.

Darkness.

I look toward the sound of the voice but I am blinded by the cracks in the ceiling. I’m too scared to move. What do I do? Footsteps approach from the front of the building. My head swivels to a dark silhouette. Cain. Oh, thank God. 

“I’m sorry,” the female voice says quickly. “But, that’s probably for the best.”

“Who are you?” Cain inquires, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Someone looking out for the little guys.” The words echo in the large space.

“Who are you calling little?” I say, only partly offended.

“Oh, I’m littler than you. Don’t worry—well, worry just a little, but not about that.” She pauses, most likely to take a breath. “You probably shouldn’t go outside for a bit.” 

“Why?” Cain asks.

“Little brother is out there with his friends. He likes stealing from people like you. He thinks that because he has his big muscles, he owns the world.” 

I squint, trying to make out shapes in the rafters above. 

“Wouldn’t he get in trouble if he stole from us? We’re from the settlement,” I say.

“You’re not in the settlement now. This is Twilight. Things are different here, but they don’t have to be…” her words trail off.

“Then why are you warning us?” Cain asks.

“Because stealing is wrong, but I can’t tell him that, or the others. That’s why I’m telling you.” 

“Tell me then, do we get to see our savior?” Cain says with a mocking tone.

“No, but you can do me a favor.” 

I roll my eyes. “How do we know you aren’t lying to us so that we will do what you say?” 

“I’m not,” she says matter-of-factly. 

Something drops from the ceiling and lands at our feet. A bundle of something. I hesitantly pick it up and hold it to the distant lights at the front of the building. 

“Flowers? You’re giving us flowers?” I say, confused by the scatter-brained conversation.

“They’re not for you, silly. They’re for my mom. She lives in the settlement. Her name is Lin, Lin Coughman, and there’s a piece of jerky in there for Lucy, my pet wolf. Give that to her if she is still alive, okay?” 

“You’re talking like we already said yes…” I start.

“Of course,” says Cain. “We’ll make sure they get them.” 

I look towards him in the darkness, still holding the odd bouquet. Does he trust everyone he comes across? What if she is trapping us here so that her “little brother” can come and murder us? What if these flowers are covered in some sort of paralytic venom and it’s only a matter of time before I pass out from their effect? 

“How do we know we can trust you?” I ask the darkness.

There’s no response. 

“Hmm,” Cain says. “Guess we’re staying here for a bit.” I hear him lean up against a refrigerator box and slide to the floor. Is he going to wait here to die? She could have been lying just to get us to run her errand. I don’t know what to believe. My eyes pull to the front of the building and I see a figure moving outside in the daylight. My heart sinks. Without my light orb, there is no way to check for a back exit. I hope she wasn’t lying. In case she was, I duck behind the row of refrigerators and sit next to Cain, listening intently for footsteps and preparing myself to run.

“What do you think the chances are that this is all an elaborate trap?” I whisper.

Cain scoffs out a quiet laugh and doesn’t respond to my question. 

We wait in the darkness for what feels like an eternity. Without light to read the manuals, I’m left to my wandering, panicked mind. I should have never come out here. Why did I think I could crack this kid? Bravery won’t win him over. I don’t know what will. I need someone who will follow me. Not this. Is this worth dying so far from my warm bed? Maybe it won’t be that bad. If I get these booklets back, I can learn a lot from them. Maybe build one of these machines myself. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do. I’m certainly not coming back out here.

“You ready?” Cain asks, breaking our unspoken bond of silence. 

“Are you sure it’s been long enough?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Fine. But once we are out, let’s head back. I have enough stuff to keep me entertained for a month back home.”

He laughs. “Those little scrapbooks of paper are that interesting?”

I scowl, although he can’t see it. “Smart men read things like these. I’m a man of intellect.” 

“You should take up wrestling; it’s more fun.”

It’s not a bad thought. I am quick on my feet and stronger than people give me credit. Once we get out of this nightmare, I’ll consider it.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Intellectual, lead the way,” Cain says.

With a newfound boost of confidence, I stand and walk to the front of the building. Cain follows and we both peek out, looking up and down the roadway. It seems empty, but it’s hard to tell. The sky has grown dark with rain clouds. I forgot today was rain day. 

“We should be good,” I say before stepping out and jumping down the staircase, landing in the tall grass that covers the road.

“I thought I heard something in there,” a gruff voice says.

I spin to find a tall spindly man with messy hair and a greying beard, leaning against the side of the building. He is shirtless and his pants look like they were made for a bigger man. They are only held up by a length of rope tied around his waist. He swings a bat in his left hand and spins a knife in his right. My body goes rigid as he licks his lips and looks to the opening where Cain stands. 

“How about you get out here and join your friend, cutie,” the man says. 

Cain looks at him as he did me earlier, scanning him from feet to head. Without a word or any sign of emotion, he walks down the steps to my side, keeping his eyes on the scrawny man. 

“Pockets. Empty ‘em,” the man demands.

I rifle through my pants and pull out some small tools, nothing useful. “I don’t have much.” I’m panicking and my words don’t hide that fact. “Just these tools and a few little books, but you wouldn’t want those,” I add, looking at the manuals and flowers in my other hand.

“What do you know what I’d like? Give ‘em here!” He waves me to him with the point of the bat and I stumble up the stairs.

He rips the booklets from my grip but leaves the flowers.

“Who them flowers for, boy? Got a nice girly at home?” 

I shake my head, unsure if I should say who they are from. It might help if he knows we know his little female friend. 

“That’s none of your business,” Cain says before I can decide what to do. “Levi, get behind me.” 

Before the man can react, I’m back down the steps and behind my towering friend. His hands are under his shirt gripping his waistband. I remember the blade. Is he going to use it? Are we allowed to hurt Twilight dwellers?

“Does the little flower boy think he’s brave?” laughs the man. “You know, I could use some new clothes. Why don’t the two of you strip down to your britches?” 

“I’ll take your skin before you take our clothes,” Cain says. My eyes go wide at the horror of the thought. 

The man cackles. “You dumb little brat. There ain’t no angels or teachers out here to stop me from beating you. Just as long as I don’t kill ya, which I won’t. May God smite me if I’m lyin.” He raises the hand with the knife to the sky.

“There are no laws that say I can’t kill you if you make an attempt to harm us,” Cain says, revealing the blade from his waistband. 

The sky opens up and rain starts to fall as the man looks over the two of us, his laughter quelled. He lets out a long guttural growl before tapping the metal bat on the concrete exterior of the building. “I hate it when they’re brave,” he says, under his breath.

Cain stands like a statue, eyes locked on the man as he paces the front stoop of the building. 

Would he do it? Is this all a ruse? I look at his eyes. I don’t think this is fake. He would kill him. Has he killed before? Was I right about the whole serial killer thing? Oh, God. I hope not. 

The man spits on the ground. “Fine. You two get outta here. I’m feelin’ generous,” he says, pushing out his chest. 

Cain motions with his hand and I turn to run. Before I can, his hand grabs the back of my collar. I turn back and see the severity in his eyes. “We aren’t running,” he says with force. He looks back to the man. “If you follow us with your friends, I will flay you first!”

The man runs the knife across his bare chest. “I ain’t plan on followin’. Cross my heart, little devil.”

Cain holds the man's gaze for a few more seconds and then turns. 

We walk in silence to the edge of Reclamation; I fight with everything in me not to look back, not to scan the buildings, not to fear for my life. The sound of pickaxes brings peace, and I consider walking right into Reclamation and accepting whatever diluted punishment they have for me—but Cain doesn’t allow this. He makes us wait until the noise stops and we follow the same pattern, crossing through during the change in shifts. It’s not until we reach the treeline of Bethesda that I speak, or rather, yell.

“What was that!? Who are you? Are you going to kill me? Please don’t kill me! I promise I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Levi,” he says calmly, and I stop. My breathing is heavy as my heart pounds. “I’m not going to kill you.”

I do my best to compose myself, reminding myself that we are in the settlement now. Even if he did want to kill me, he couldn’t. Not here. “I just need to know who you are,” I say.

“That doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that things are different out there. People speak differently. Powerful words stop aggression.”

All of my scattered thoughts target into one question. “Would you have killed him?”

Cain blinks and tightens his jaw. “If I had to,” he says with a heavy tone.

Another question leaves my lips, this one heavier than the first. “Have you killed before?” 

I watch as his chest rises and falls. “Almost,” he says. 

I would sigh with relief, but something looms in his eyes. Rage. Not towards me, but towards something else, someone else. I don’t dare press further. I’m too busy processing everything that just happened. Looking down, I realize that I’m still carrying the flowers and the jerky. The urge to throw them to the ground and crush them underfoot takes over as I think about my custom light orb. If that faceless girl didn’t scare me, I wouldn’t have to spend the next two weeks making another one. I raise my arm, ready to cast them to the grass, but Cain grabs my hand. 

“We promised.” He looks at me confused as if he doesn’t know why I want to destroy them.

It doesn’t matter. I let him take them from my hand and we stand quietly. He probably expects an apology. Fine. “Sorry. I’m just sick and tired of the world being against me. I just don’t fit.”

I’m ready for him to dismiss me, to send me on my way, to reject me like everyone else in this stupid place, but when I look up, he doesn’t seem to be mad. It’s like he’s looking through me. “You don’t seem like someone who would stand down from a fight that you knew you could win,” he says. I blink, unsure of how to respond. “Prove to yourself that you are not someone who loses.” Cain places a hand on my shoulder and for a moment I forget that society deems us as children. If there is such a thing as maturity, he has more in his pinky than most adults have in their entire bodies. He understands this world. Most people hide from it. 

“Does this make us friends?” I ask.

“I don’t see why not. Besides, it will get Jeniene off my back if I make a few connections in my new home.”

“Want to see my workshop? I’m going to need a new test pilot for my next flying machine.”

“That’s never going to happen,” he replies dryly. 

It was worth a shot. I’ll find other kids to test my inventions.

We head into town and Cain spends the next two hours asking around, looking for Lin Coughman. It seems like a waste of time, but I have nothing better to do. Our search ends at a quaint pearl-white farmhouse on the edge of town. A small woman sits on the front porch, knitting a hat. I stay by the fence as Cain walks up to her. I watch as he hands her the flowers and explains who they are from. Tears come quickly for the woman and she wraps Cain in a big hug. Part of me wishes I had given her the flowers; it would be nice to be appreciated. 

The way he smiles back at her when she releases him seems genuine, and I can’t help but wonder how much of his behavior is manufactured and how much is real. I hear her call for Lucy and watch as an old wolf hobbles from the open front door of the home onto the porch. She sniffs the rag that holds the jerky and in a moment transforms into a bounding puppy filled with energy. Must be the smell. Lucy practically tackles Cain in the excitement. He doesn’t seem to reject the affection. It’s a nice moment, for him…

As I turn to leave, ready to retreat to my shop, Cain calls my name. Still dejected, I approach, keeping my head low and my hands in my pockets. When I look up, I’m surprised to find that the short woman is beaming at me. Why?

“Cain says you helped deliver my daughter’s flowers. I wanted to thank you for that.”

I shake my head and open my mouth to say, ‘I didn’t want to bring them back,’ but Cain stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t have made it back without him. He may just be the smartest person in Bethesda.” 

My heart lifts at the compliment.

“He’s also great with a set of tools,” Cain adds.

“Oh yeah,” says Lin. “Do you think you could fix my well pump? I’d pay you, of course.”

Cain looks to me, his face saying. “This is how you fit.” 

I nod with excitement. “I can do that.”

“Great!” she says, pulling me in for a hug.

I hug her back and look to Cain, now certain that I made the right decision picking him up. He may not need to be saved from this boring place, but he certainly needs me.

And who am I to withhold my friendship?

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