Merfolk on Mars

Chapter 15

The door had barely closed when Arai asked, "Did that jerky taste kind of strange to you?"

"I didn't try any," I replied.

"I was wondering about that," Isla said. "It wasn't beef or fish jerky. Maybe some other kind of meat?"

Arai shrugged. "I don't know, but it reminded me a lot of my mom's kelp burger patties if she overcooks them."

"Don't complain," I told him. "They let us join their meal when we had nothing to offer them."

"True," he grudgingly admitted. "Although I've never just had toast for lunch before. At least I'm not hungry anymore."

I rolled my eyes. He had eaten three slices of toast and a small mountain of jerky. If it was as bad as he was making it out to be, he would have stopped long before that point.

"Uh oh," Corvus commented quietly. "There are the police again."

Two policemen were walking down the street toward us. How? Didn't we leave them all at the High School or the Gala?

"Let's go in there until they pass," I whispered. "If they get too close, they might start asking questions about your chainsaws.

We turned and walked into through the large brass archway before the police seemed to notice us. A lucky break. Finally.

We retreated down a hallway and around a corner to get out of sight. Our presence startled a rather portly woman who stood up straight with an inhale of shock. We froze as her eyes narrowed at us, like we were trespassing. Which, technically, we were.

She frowned before stomping over to us, clearly upset. We glanced at each other nervously, although we held our ground. With police on the street behind us, going back wasn't a good option.

She stopped right in front of Corvus, "I'm late for the gala, and I was not expecting company. Who are you? And why are you carrying such a tool? There isn't even a single gear on it! And where did you ever find such terribly drab clothing? Such an overcoat is meant to protect much better clothing from rain – not to act as a true garment!"

"Huh?"

She tapped her foot while she crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. "Why are you carrying a chainsaw?" She reminded me of some of my stricter teachers.

"To cut up wood."

"What wood?" She looked around the bare stone courtyard in confusion. She looked back at him in growing suspicion. "Are you lying to me?"

He looked around wildly, as if only just noticing we had entered a stone courtyard and there was a serious lack of any even remotely cuttable. "Uh... would you believe me if I said the author failed to describe the scene before you asked me why I was carrying a chainsaw?"

"That is the stupidest excuse I have ever heard!"

Isla quickly intervened. "But he was cutting up wood before we came here! That's why it's warm even though it isn't running right now. Besides, how else would this dapper steampunk city stay floating unless we cut wood up?"

Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "The Unobtanium makes it float. The steam is just to hide it."

"Ah, but think about it! You need water and heat to make steam, and the most respectable and traditional way to create heat is with fire – and fire requires wood! And this city needs a lot of steam to run everything properly. So, it's the kind of work he does that makes life in this city even possible!"

"Oh! I never thought of it like that!" The lady's eyes lit up in a distant, dreamy fashion before she began wandering toward a nearby doorway, murmuring something about going to the gala to discuss holding a woodcutter thanksgiving remembrance ceremony with at least twelve kinds of tea and comfy chairs.

I looked at Isla in a rather confused fashion. Had she forgotten we were still here? We edged toward the street but remained in the hallway, out of sight of both the passing police and the strange woman.

Isla peeked around the corner again. "They're gone. Let's keep moving before more people rise from their post-tea naps."

Her words seemed like excellent advice.