Survival Colony 9 by Joshua David Bellin

The rational part of my mind doubted that would do much good, eventually I knew we’d have to separate what we could carry from what we couldn’t. I knew, too, that it would be my dad, not me, who made the call. But maybe, I thought, I could save some little thing.
    As I skirted the crater, I saw Yov and the other teenagers lounging in the shade of a crumpled building. Most had thrown themselves on the ground, but Korah sat apart, her legs pulled up on a half-toppled wall. Yov leaned against what was left of the house, resting casually on an elbow, his white-blond hair barely mussed from the rain. I was about to pass him by when he raised his voice.
    “Has anyone noticed,” he said, “that the whole camp’s been falling to pieces ever since Laman decided to take his little vacation here?”
    My heart skipped a beat, but I kept moving.
    “Yeah,” Wali said. “It’s like he’s got some thing about Crater Estates he’s not telling us.”
    “You guys found this dump,” a kid named Daren said to Yov.
    “But didn’t go all touchy-feely on it,” Yov retorted. “Hey Space Boy!” he called out. “What do you think? Daddy pick a cozy resort?”
    I turned back to him. “What do you want him to do? Make it rain?”
    I thought it was a pretty good line, but no one laughed. Korah gazed pointedly away from both me and Yov.
    “Typical,” Yov yawned. “You’re missing the big picture, Space Boy. How old is Laman, anyway?”
    “About fifty,” I said guardedly. Because truthfully, I didn’t know.
    “And how long’s he been running this show?”
    “What’s your point, Yov?”
    “Yes,” said Korah, swinging her legs from the wall and standing. “What is your point, Yov?”
    He grinned, showing oversize, yellow-brown teeth. “Who says I have to have a point? I’m just trying to establish some numbers here.”
    He took a step away from the collapsed building and faced me and Korah. He stood nearly a foot taller than either of us, his neck and shoulders wired with muscle. The others seemed like they were still just lying around, eyes half-closed and bland looks on their faces, but I could sense their interest perking up. A few had raised themselves on their elbows or leaned forward, hugging their knees. Wali stared intently at the three of us. Yov’s expression hadn’t changed from his customary look of bored superiority, but something about his cool smile made me realize he wasn’t just messing with me like always.
    “You couldn’t do the numbers if your life depended on it,” Korah said quietly. “So again, what’s your point?”
    Yov held up his hands. “I’m merely suggesting,” he said, “that we’ve got a broken-down truck, two missing scouts, some shoeless dude creeping around camp, and a couple days worth of muddy pisswater. And instead of going into lockdown and quarantine, Laman’s worried about who’s packing too many tinker toys. I’m merely calling attention to certain, let us say, kinks in the plan.” He let out a sniffing laugh. “If, that is, the plan involves staying alive long enough to partake of our supply of muddy pisswater.”
    “You think you could do better?” Korah said.
    “Hey,” Yov replied. “I told you, I’m just pointing things out. I’m not as smart as you and Space Boy here. I can’t put two and two together on my own.”
    “I could tell Laman about this,” she said.
    “Go ahead,” he said, shrugging. “You won’t be telling him anything he doesn’t already know.”
    With that, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, like he’d just been hanging out catching some sun all along. The others relaxed as well, but Wali stood and said something to Yov too soft for me to hear, and Yov smiled wickedly, his eyes still closed, his head nodding in satisfaction.
    I walked off. My steps felt strange against the packed dust, as if my soles weren’t making contact with the ground. I heard Korah calling my name, but it was like her voice traveled out