Sky Jumpers Book 2 by Peggy Eddleman Page B

me. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
    At Cass’s groan, the man carrying her said, “It’s safe.”
    The tunnel was cool and our clothes were soaked, and none of us could stop shivering. Small lanterns attached to support beams lit the way enough for us to see where the walls were, but made it almost impossible to tell how far we’d been walking.
    Eventually, we came to a spot where we had to turn left or right. Instead of turning, though, Thomas scooted past everyone and put his hands on the dirt wall right in front of us, pushing it sideways. It slid as easily as the metal wallhad above. “The door’s not dirt,” Thomas said, as though he was angry he had to give up their secrets. “It just looks like it, so if anyone finds a way into the tunnels, they won’t find us.”
    We walked through the opening and into an area bigger than the first building we’d gone into, but not as tall. This one was filled with people. Some sat on chairs sewing, some worked with wood and saws and hammers, some chopped food at big tables, and a few little kids raced through, playing chase.
    Then I noticed the walls and floor—they were all made of concrete. I’d seen concrete floors plenty of times, but never walls.
    “What is this place?” Aaren asked.
    Thomas brushed the hair out of his eyes and frowned at us, as if he was realizing that we weren’t going to disappear and that it might be easier to answer our questions. “It was the foundation of one of the biggest buildings here. The building fell over not long after the bombs, leaving this giant hole. A couple of years later, that building,” Thomas said as he pointed up, “fell on top of it, making the ceiling. Back then, the people living here dug tunnels to it, filled in some holes, and made chimneys for the cookstoves and fireplaces, then they all moved in. Before I was born, they expanded to a couple of other smallerbuildings with good foundations, and moved the sleeping quarters there.”
    Cole, Cass, and the men were halfway across the open area, heading toward a room that was apparently the infirmary. We caught up and walked inside with them, and the muscled man laid Cass on her side on a padded table. Then he handed a blanket to Cole, who laid it over Cass’s soaking-wet body.
    Thomas said, “I’ll go get Isha,” then left the room, while the muscled man put blankets over our shoulders.
    “Is Isha the doctor?” Brock asked.
    The man shook his head. “There is no doctor. Isha has some herbs, though. Might keep the infection out until the storm clears and you can get her to a doctor.”
    All the color left Cole’s face. “No doctor?” He turned to Aaren. “Help her, Aaren. You have to.” His voice was pleading, begging.
    Aaren hesitated. “I—I don’t know if I can. Her wound is so deep.”
    “We don’t know how long it’ll be until we can leave,” Cole said, his voice desperate. “Or where to find another doctor. What if she can’t wait that long?”
    Aaren focused on the corner of the table, as though he wasn’t seeing anything.
    “You can do this,” I said. Then I fumbled through thebag that hung over one of his shoulders, and pulled out his med kit. It didn’t have as much stuff in it as the bag he’d carried in the trailer, but hopefully it’d be enough.
    Aaren didn’t move. Normally, everything about him changed when he was helping someone. He became calm, focused, and confident. But not this time.
    I set the kit next to him. “Aaren,” I said, “this is just like helping your mom.”
    “I—I never really thought how it would be to do it by myself.”
    “You’re not by yourself,” I said. “You’ve got us, and you know what to do. You know it so well, you’ve sleep-talked your way through surgeries almost every night on this trip.”
    He blinked a few times, then looked down at his kit. “I need to clean the wound, then stitch it closed.” He lifted off the wadded shirt, and Cass sucked in a sharp breath. Aaren pulled a