It was almost too much. A huge part of her wanted to call Skitter, to get some guidance, to order supplies and defer on the harder problems, like the bodies.
Ah. So while they have access to phone contact with Skitter, they haven’t used it yet since Burnscar?
Another part of her was scared to.
She dialed another number instead.
Ooh, who are we about to meet?
Or maybe it’s one of the other Undertravelers?
“Yes?” the voice was deep.
Coil?
She was put in mind of being a little kid, calling a friend and hearing an adult on the other end. It felt awkward. She sort of resented it.
That is a really good analogy here.
“I’d like to talk to Bryce?” It came out as more of a question than a statement.
Ohh. I guess the deep voice is one of Lisa’s Coildiers.
“One moment.”
She watched with the phone pressed to one ear as Charlotte recruited some of the older children to prepare dinner. They started putting things back in cabinets, ordered not by the type of food, but by how long it would last. One of the children found a cutting board and began to cut lettuce.
That’s child labor.
But y’know, since they’re there, I suppose. It’s not heavy child labor. Nothing schools don’t make kids do.
“Sierra?”
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Well? What do you want?”
“Checking up on you, moron.”
Heh.
“I’m fine,” Bryce said. He managed to sound sullen.
You sure?
She crossed the room to approach the kitchen counter and mimed proper cutting technique for the ten-year-old that was preparing the lettuce. It wouldn’t do to have the kid lose any fingertips. Or maybe she was sensitive to the idea while talking to Bryce.
Also fingertips make a terrible addition to the soup, unless your name is Siberian.









