Chapter 25
A Tomb in the Rocks
Chapter 25
Joey and Stan made two more jumps that morning. And with all that was swimming around in Joey’s head, the excitement and terror he had felt before barely registered.
Joey trailed behind Stan as they walked in silence. Stan was distant and pensive. Joey wasn’t eager to talk either. There was too much to process. He kept replaying the conversation with Arabelle in his mind. Yet another person with more knowledge them him, more words than him.
One thing he was sure of, everything they had been told about the reffies was a lie. Villagers, he reminded himself. Maybe there were some as bad as the stories, but the stories said they were all bad. So bad that the foremen stood around the perimeter of the dig sites in case they were attacked. But not so bad that the foremen needed to guard the camp at night? Then why were they standing there day after day, rifles ready? Ready for what?
Maybe the real fight with the reffies happened away from the colony. It was only a couple days ago they had heard about a raid that was prevented. They were stopped before they could get close. Maybe the foremen around the crater were the last line of defense. And really, what did he know about the villagers anyway? He only talked to two of them, and didn’t see anything, really. Just another thing he did not know.
Despite his scattered mind, one thing was always there. Joey couldn’t escape the vision of Arabelle. Seeing a woman for the first time brought into focus the all-male life of a colony miner. He didn’t know what to do with what he felt. He didn’t even know there were such feelings before, and his stomach was in knots. He felt warm inside, and nervous, and happy, and sad. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She had a way about her, calm and commanding. Some of the foremen had that too. Not the mean ones like Ganyon, but others: Alejo, Hagen, who he remembered his dad talking to when he was younger.
She said I could come back. That I would be welcomed.
A sound cut through ShortComs. It was only loud enough to trigger the coms briefly. Joey looked around. It came again. He smiled.
“Are you singing?” Joey said.
“Yeah,” Stan said with an embarrassed laugh. “The song is stuck in my head. Repeating over and over.”
“Isn’t it great?”
Stan looked back over his shoulder. He was embarrassed.
“Yeah. It is great.”
He started singing the melody.
“Oh, I think you got one part wrong,” Joey said and sang what he thought was the correct melody.
“Hey, you’re right,” Stan said and sang the correct version.
Joey joined in and they passed the next twenty minutes singing the song in unison. The beat infected their walks. They were practically dancing. They took turns singing parts, discovering the call-and-response singing of generations gone long before them.
And when the next jump came, Joey found himself in higher spirits. Maybe Stan was right, this was the good part of this insane trip. Spending time with his friend.
A friend who had to answer a few questions.