Embattlement: The Undergrounders Series Book Two (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“That’s a fish’s name.”
    I laugh. “What’s your name?”
    “Izzy.”
    “That’s a pretty name.” I rack my brains trying to remember what people say to little kids. Seems a lifetime ago since I’ve been around any. I was a kid myself when the meltdown happened. I shoot Trout an imploring look.
    “Say something,” I hiss in his ear.
    He scratches the back of his neck, as perplexed as I am. Apparently he has nothing more up his sleeve either, now that he’s out of jerky.
    I roll my eyes at him and turn my attention back to my grubby rival laying claim to Tucker. I need to figure out how to get my dog back, but of course I can’t just take him and leave her. I blink back unexpected tears. I swore I’d never leave anyone behind again, and I meant it.
    I shuffle a little closer on my knees and smile gently at her. “Where’s your mom and dad?”
    She throws me a jaded look and nestles her head in the crook of Tucker’s neck.
    I chew on my lip. Not a safe topic? Or did she clam up because I’m a stranger? Maybe the dog’s a better option to open with.
    “Looks like you found yourself a real pal there,” I say, reaching out to pet Tucker.
    Izzy lets out a strangled wail and locks both arms around his neck again.
    I retreat a few feet and turn to Trout, one eyebrow hiked. “Your turn.”
    He clears his throat and throws Izzy a conspiratorial look. “His name’s Tucker.”
    She juts out her tiny chin. “ I found him.”
    I groan inwardly. I’m resigning myself to having to pry her needle-thin arms from around Tucker’s neck. Already the guilt’s gnawing at me. I know how comforting a place it is to be snuggled up to an unconditional-love fur ball.
    Of all people to have Tucker in a chokehold, why does it have to be an abandoned kid? This could prove more challenging than negotiating with Rummy, but Tucker’s not on the table, not even for her. I rub my jaw distractedly until inspiration strikes. “Hey, Izzy, I have an idea. Let’s take Tucker to meet your parents.”
    She blinks, as if considering my proposition.
    “How about it?” I prod. “They’d love to meet your new pal.”
    She drops her gaze, trails her fingers through the half-mulched leaves and pats them into a small mound. “They’re dead.”
    I rock back on my heels, momentarily stunned by her wooden delivery of the shocking words. I stare at the mulch sculpture at her feet that looks disturbingly like a grave. Maybe her way of trying to process what happened. A thousand questions swirl in my brain. Did her parents die in a bunker raid? Was it Rogues, or did the Sweepers extract them? The question that nags at me most is the same one I see on Trout’s bewildered face. What are we going to do with her? We can’t take her with us. Not to war. But we can’t leave her alone out here either, and especially not with Blade on the prowl.
    I inhale slowly in and out. I don’t want her to clam up again, but I need to make sure of the facts. We can’t go kidnapping some Undergrounder’s kid with an overactive imagination. I slowly stretch out my hand to Tucker, and this time Izzy sits quietly, watching with unabashed curiosity as Tucker licks my fingers affectionately. An involuntary smile curls up from the corners of her mouth. I take a quick breath and seize the moment. “What happened to your mom and dad?”
    A look of grim determination clouds her face. She twists a piece of Tucker’s fur between her fingers. “There’s bad guys.”
    My heart begins to pound with a kindred fear. “I know. Did you see them?”
    She bobs her head, once, twice for confirmation.
    “What did they look like?”
    She pulls her skinny shoulders up to her chin and drops them.
    “So you didn’t see them then?”
    “They had scary faces.” She blinks, a solemn look on her face. “Is Trout’s mama dead?”
    Behind me, I hear Trout inhale a sharp breath, then clear his throat. I fight the urge to turn around and look at him. He hasn’t shared