Edge of Extinction. Laura Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ nodded and came inside holding up the port screen. Unlike our standard-issue port screen, his was one of the bigger, older models that had been retired years ago. I jumped on my bed to retrieve the scan plug, but no sooner had I unscrewed my light than it flickered and died. Sending us into darkness.

      “Not again,” I groaned, reaching for the flashlight by my bed.

      Shawn looked up at my light and shrugged. “It’s probably just one of the wires coming loose. It wasn’t really meant to have someone pulling it out of the ceiling every day.”

      “Says the boy who showed me how to do it,” I said, feeling indignant.

      “That wasn’t my point,” Shawn said, climbing on my bed to remove the metal panel on the side of the light. “All I’m saying is that none of the compound systems was built to last as long as they have. It’s really pretty impressive when you think about it.”

      “What I don’t get,” I grumbled, interrupting him before he could get any momentum in his admiration of the Noah’s ingenuity in shared resources or compound sustainability, two of his favourite topics, “is how we get new port screens and holoscreens every few years, but we can’t get new lights?”

      “Well,” Shawn said, inspecting the guts of the light, “our government values port screens and holoscreens. They are small, and West Compound has the equipment to manufacture them. The Noah’s plane can deliver them. They are what you call portable.” He began pawing through the inside of the light, twisting here and tightening there. “Industrial-sized lights,” he went on, “aren’t exactly portable. And since updating them isn’t vital to our survival, no one is spending precious time and energy making new ones.”

      He was right. I hated the technology disconnect in North Compound. So many of the things we used were just patched-up versions of what the original survivors had brought with them.

      Shawn twisted something inside the light and it flashed back to life. Grinning broadly, he jumped off my bed and took the massive port screen from my hand. Shawn had found it during one of his work details sorting for recyclable materials in the compound’s trash heap and, after months of work and scavenging parts, had managed to get it up and running. I hadn’t really understood the point when we each had working ports, but I’d quickly changed my tune when I realised that, unlike our ports, his was off the grid.

      I handed the scan plug to Shawn.

      “Can you get it uploaded while I shower?” I asked.

      He grunted absentmindedly, perching on my bed to tap at the screen. Shawn loved these behind-the-scenes glimpses of the inner working of the compounds, the coming and going of supplies, the nitty-gritty details that went into keeping the remains of the human race alive. After I’d had a chance to look it over for any information about my dad, he would spend days poring over the files. I could picture him as a top compound official someday, or maybe even the Noah. The thought filled me with pride.

      Trying not to get my hopes up, I grabbed my towel and dashed out of the door for the bathroom. Three minutes later I was back, and I found Shawn frowning at the screen of his makeshift port.

      “Found anything?” I asked, plopping down beside him. I ran my fingers through my wet curls, and he made a face at me as the motion sent droplets of water over his screen. He gingerly wiped them away with his sleeve.

      “It looks like the mandatory assembly in a couple of days will be about the compound entrances.”

      I waved my hand impatiently. “I meant anything about my dad.”

      “Nope,” Shawn said.

      I sagged in disappointment. “Are you sure?”

      “Positive,” he nodded, shutting down the port. He glanced at me, taking in the disappointment on my face, and frowned. “Don’t look so down,” he said.

      “But I am,” I whined, flopping backwards on the bed to stare glumly at the ceiling. “It’s been five years. I’m never going to know what happened to him. He left me a stupid blank journal and a stupid broken compass, and I was stupid for thinking I could find out anything from the compound’s stupid information boxes.”

      “That’s a whole lot of stupid you’re slinging around,” Shawn quipped.

      “I feel like a whole lot of stupid.”

      Shawn reached over to snatch my journal off my bed. He opened it and paged through as I stared moodily at my ceiling. My rusted light still hung garishly from it, like an eyeball loose in its socket. Shawn had known about my journal for years. I’d thought my journal was so special, but he’d informed me that most people in the compound owned at least one thing. He had his recycled port and an old music box from his mum, and I’d been shocked to hear that even his aunt had a silver wristwatch. I guess it was human nature to want something to be yours and no one else’s. When I finally sat up and peered over Shawn’s shoulder, he was looking at a drawing of Stegosaurus I’d done a few weeks ago. It was one of my better drawings. I’d even drawn a person standing next to it for scale.

      “Is that me?” Shawn asked, pointing at the tiny figure.

      “No,” I said, but then I paused. There was something about the nonchalant way the figure was standing, with the shaggy hair and arm positioning that was vaguely Shawn.

      “Oh,” Shawn said. “It looked a little like me.”

      “I should just throw it away,” I groaned, throwing myself back on my bed.

      “Let me guess,” Shawn laughed. “Because it’s stupid?”

      “Yes,” I frowned, as the bell rang, signalling we needed to be on our way to school.

      “Well,” Shawn said, “let’s get going to that stupid school of ours.”

      “You aren’t funny,” I grumbled.

      He stuffed my journal, the scan plug and the flashlight back into their hiding spot before screwing the light back in place. “I am, actually,” he countered. “You’re just in a bad mood.”

      “You can say that again,” I said, sighing as I followed him out of the door for another day in North Compound.

      

      I woke up a few days later to the sound of a lock pick working at my door.

      I got out of bed and shivered in the damp chill of the room as I hurried to let Shawn in.

      “Go away,” I moaned, when I opened the door to see him standing on my doorstep, way too alert and happy for this time of the morning. “I’m going to tell the guardians I’m sick today and skip school.”

      “And give up spending your birthday with me?” he asked, pretending to be hurt. “Never. Besides, we don’t even have first period this morning.” When I just stared at him blankly, he sighed in exasperation. “Why are you giving me that look? Because you forgot it was your birthday or because СКАЧАТЬ