Confrontation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 4) by K. D. McAdams Page A

don’t need to use it to store weapons, but some measure of security seems prudent.
    Coming back up the ladder and out of the central cabin, I am surprised to see Liam standing in the path. He is holding the blue-green platter with one hand and sloppily eating something with his other.
    “Hey Seamus,” he garbles out of his full mouth.
    “Are you eating the stuff from that plate?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
    “It’s so good,” he says.
    I point out a valid reason for concern. “What is it and where did it come from?”
    My brother stops chewing and looks down at the plate. Slowly he walks over to our table and puts the plate down. His mind is constantly racing, and right now that fact is plastered across his face.
    “The plate is cold. Like, not cool to the touch but actually cold, almost like it was made of ice.” He looks at me a little sideways.
    “And you think that what you put in your mouth was definitely food?” I’m not even sure how to ask the right questions.
    “I would call it fruit?” He’s the only one who has eaten it and he’s not even sure if his idea is correct.
    “Do you feel okay?” I ask. I guess it only matters if he gets sick.
    “Not now! I’m freaking out and my mouth feels like it’s on fire,” Liam says, panicking. His face is flushing and I can see a bead of sweat on his forehead.
    “How many did you try?” I don’t know how to help him and he is not forthcoming with information, so I have to probe.
    “Just the yellow one. It tasted like a raspberry, kind of, but had the consistency of a banana. It was shaped kind of like a mango. The aftertaste keeps changing! Now it’s really bitter and not spicy any more. Bleh!” He starts spitting and vibrating his tongue and lips.
    He needs to cleanse his pallet. Back home, milk was always a good way to get spicy food out of your mouth, but we haven’t had milk since we left Earth. Maybe a carrot will help scrub the inside of his mouth? Liam loves those and we have plenty.
    I dash into the central cabin and down to the cold storage cellar. Grabbing a bunch of carrots, I look around to see if there are any other foods that seem like they could help wash out a mouth. We don’t have any mint or parsley; I would have thought those were seeds that made the cut for bringing with us. That was not my area of responsibility though, so I need to move on.
    When I’m back outside the cabin I find my brother sitting on a bench with his head between his knees. There is dark sludge and spittle falling from his mouth and dropping into a pile at his feet.
    Initially I think that the substance is blood, that my brother is having his insides destroyed by a poison. Then I notice his hands and see the dirt gripped firmly in the right one, some bits of soil sticking to the outside of his open left hand.
    Looking up and smiling at me exposes a tiny bit of mud on his chin.
    “Remember when we went camping and had to brush our teeth with baking soda? This is like that but grosser,” he explains.
    “Here, eat a carrot. It will help your mouth, but I’m not sure it can do anything for your brain.” Sometimes it scares me to think about how his brain might work.
    Without spitting out the rest of the mud, Liam chomps down on the first carrot. He chews for a little bit and then starts making a small hole with his foot.
    After checking to see if anyone is watching him, he leans over and spits a disgusting orange brown blob into the shallow hole. It lands with a thud and I watch him run is tongue over his teeth a few times before spitting again. Using his foot, he covers the pile of gross with a little soil.
    I hand him the rest of the carrots, and say, “Take the rest of these and go to the latrine. Basically throwing up right here where we eat is disgusting.”
    If this was a trap and the stuff on the plate was poison, it’s too late for me to do anything for Liam. He sealed his own fate when he let his lack of impulse control win out over