Children of a New Earth Read Free Page A

didn’t slow down until she was most of the way up the steep trail toward the array, and even then, it was only because she was out of breath.
    Her face was beet red by the time she crested the ridge. There, she met her father’s face, almost as red as hers.
    I just ran up here , she thought, but he has just been walking around. She was worried about him. Even this small change in altitude left him out of breath.
    His look brought her back to reality in a flash. “Is it bad?” she asked.
    “Worse,” he replied.
    He was right. The rod was down, blown down by the heavy winds. Without its protection, lightning had struck the array. About half the panels were scorched. Marlin was shuffling around attaching calipers to the sides of the panels and taking readings. He muttered darkly as he worked. “About half of them are still working,” he told her.
    “Is that enough?” she asked.
    He stood silent for a minute, staring up at the skyline. “That’s not all. The charge went through. Everything is fried: batteries, charge controller, inverter. Everything.”
     
    “A meeting tonight?” Patrick asked as he faced off against Luke again. Patrick was a year older than Luke. At nineteen, he would be considered a man next year and no longer required to come to combat training.
    That was just as well. Combat training had taken Patrick as far as it could. He was Luke’s height, but broader. He was lean and muscular. Sweat stood out on his bare chest. He was like a mountain cat in brown shorts.
    His arm shot out. Luke sidestepped clumsily and swept the larger boy off his feet. Before the dust had settled, Isaiah Hall was among them shouting. “Faster, Luke, you have to finish him faster.”
    Isaiah pulled Patrick to his feet. “Again,” he growled. 
    Patrick looked at the graying combat instructor. Isaiah’s hairy arms bulged with muscles and his wide girth carried no hint of fat. He wore the same brown shorts they all wore, and a faded white t-shirt. He wore his hair cut in a butch and his wide face bore a constant scowl.
    Patrick’s eyes flickered, and his fist shot out. With a grace born of years of training, Isaiah sidestepped and swept Patrick off his feet. He dropped down, his elbow following Patrick’s progress. It stopped inches from Patrick’s face.
    “This isn’t a game,” he snarled. “Do you think the terrorists think this is a game?”
    “No sir!” Patrick and Luke sang out together.
    Unappeased, Isaiah continued. “Do you think the enemy thinks this is a game? Do you think the New World Order is playing around? No. It’s kill or be killed. This training just might save your life someday, boys. Remember that. Free sparring,” he said, looking at Luke. “You and Patrick are up first.”
    “Spring dance is coming up,” Patrick commented as they faced off again.
    “Yeah,” Luke replied warily as the two circled each other. He wished he’d been partnered with Kurt or Daniel. That Patrick would win the match was a given. He was the best fighter they had at the ranch. Losing was not the problem.
    Luke was never sure which was worse—the fact that Patrick’s concept of light-contact sparring often left bruises or that he was a master at taunting his opponent into making a mistake. He exploited Kurt’s fear, Daniel’s caution, and Shawn’s slow wit. Luke knew what was coming. He told himself not to rise to the bait.
    “Taking the grease monkey?” Patrick laughed.
    “Yeah,” Luke replied calmly, though he could feel the heat rising on the back of his neck. Of course , he wanted to say, we’ve gone to every dance together since we reached “courting” age . He hadn’t actually asked Amy, but they’d surely walk up together and spend the whole evening together.
    “I hope you were paying attention. You’ll need hand to hand with that one,” Patrick joked. Somewhere in the background, Shawn sniggered.
    Luke’s face burned. What was it? Patrick’s smug grin or Shawn’s snigger? The two