YesterWorld (Book 2 of the Down World Series)

Original Edition: Chapter Twenty

As soon as we made it upstairs to the diner, I saw the last tank inching past—a mountain of slowly creeping metal capable of obliterating everything in its path. The booths were mostly empty, but a few stragglers remained, anxiously clutching their coffee cups as they stared wearily out the window. A little girl with a red ribbon in her hair had her face plastered against the glass, her eyes turned in the direction where the other tanks had already gone by. Her mother, a hollow-looking woman with deeply sunken eyes, pulled the girl back by the ponytail, and held her close until the last of the rumbling had stopped.

I realized I had been standing painfully still, watching the scene transpire before me. A glance over at the counter revealed Sage, looking a decade older than I'd last seen her just a couple years before. She poured a cup of coffee for the lone customer before her—a skinny old man in a bowler hat.

When she glanced up at me, a flash of something passed through her eyes. Was it anger? Or embarrassment? She flinched and turned away, plopping the coffeepot back in its holder and hovering over the pie table, hiding her face from me.

George had been telling the truth, then. Things here had gotten worse, a thousand times worse. This underlake version of Sage had already started to look defeated when I had last been here, too tired to fight back anymore. But now... now she couldn't even look at me; didn't want me to see what had become of her. I clenched my fist in spite. It looked like my mother had truly won.

An impulse to go and talk to her came over me, but Kieren's hand on my back led me in another direction.

We sat down in the corner booth—the same one I had once sat in with Brady—and wordlessly we both scooched in all the way to the middle. I didn't think I could get close enough to him. Just feeling his warmth next to me made me feel like, despite everything happening around us, I was safe.

I had forgotten how much Kieren used to make me feel that way. After our last confrontation, I didn't know if I'd ever have that with him again.

"George said we have to wait a few minutes," Kieren began, speaking almost in a whisper. His face was inches from mine, and he was being very careful that our conversation had no audience. "Until the last of the tanks is long gone. Then he'll bring us back through the woods."

I took a deep breath, the sting of the cuts in my arm still throbbing slightly. "I can't do that, Kieren."

"I don't want to hear your excuses, M."

"I'm not leaving yet."

"You are."

"You're not listening to me," I whispered a bit too loudly. Kieren touched my upper arm as a gentle warning to keep the volume down while his eagle eyes scanned the restaurant, looking for eavesdroppers. "I made a commitment."

"To do what? Get yourself killed for these people?"

"These people are my friends," I explained, glancing momentarily at Sage only to find that she still had her back turned to me. "They helped me when I needed it. And it's my fault things are this bad here."

"No, M," Kieren pressed on, almost begging me to understand. "It is not your job to fix this." He nervously peered out the window again. I followed his line of sight and saw that the last tank was no longer visible. Slowly, very slowly, a few people had started to reappear in the street, walking with bowed heads and shuffling feet towards wherever they had been heading before.

"I won't get hurt, Kieren. I promise you."

"You can't promise that. You know what happens if you stay too long..."