Luna's Arc

Chapter 9 of 29

They walked for hours. The trees never thinned. Luke's steps slowed, and Luna felt his hand grow heavy in hers. Alone, she would have pushed on faster. But she watched his face, and she stopped when he needed to rest. Twice she gave him the last of the water. Doing this for two was harder than doing it for one. The cat rode inside his sweater and kept him warm. Luna measured the light and made herself keep moving. By afternoon Luke stumbled. "I can't," he said. His lips were pale. Luna knelt and pulled him onto her back. He weighed almost nothing, but her legs burned. She counted her steps to stop thinking about them. She would not leave him behind, and she would not sit and wait to die. The trees broke open. A clearing spread wide, and in the middle stood a farmhouse. Its windows were smashed. Its porch sagged. But the frame held straight, and smoke rose thin from a hole in the roof. Luna's heart jumped. Someone was inside. She set Luke down and ran. Before she reached the steps, a boy burst through the door. He looked about twelve, dark-skinned, his sweater torn at the sleeve. He planted himself on the porch like he owned it. Behind him more children spilled out. A small one in a green hood. A boy in a yellow shirt. Faces of every kind, all thin, all dirty, all staring. "Who are you?" the boy shouted. His voice shook with fear and something like hope. Luna raised her empty hands. "I'm Luna," she said. "This is my brother, Luke." She helped Luke stand beside her. "We were left here too. Like you." The children looked at each other. No one moved. Then the oldest boy stepped down one stair. "We don't have real names," he said. "Nobody came back for us. We call ourselves the Ghost Kids." The words landed hard. Luna had found them. She had crossed the woods with Luke on her back and found the other children. But their faces told her they had no answers. They were as lost as she was. The boy studied her a long moment. Then he reached into his sweater and pulled out a folded paper. "You said your name was Luna," he said. "This is for you. It's been here since before I came." Luna took it. The paper was worn soft. She opened it and knew the handwriting at once. Same loops. Same tall letters. The same hand from all the other notes. "Stay here in this farm house," it read. "There is food and water, that’s should last a week. My daughter Luna should arrive before then. But whatever you do, don't leave before she gets to you all." Luna's hands went cold. Whoever left her had known. They had known she would come here. They had planned her path, step by step, all the way to this door.