Nightmare

breeze flow through the building. A warm yellow light leaked over the edge of the loft and Evan heard voices talking. The frog noises grew even louder, and Evan wondered if it was because it was night or because the frogs were feeding off the bugs lured in by the floating lights.

Evan reached the loft. Thirty or so men and boys were there, some talking, some lying on their pallets. A small group was engaged in some kind of card game in one corner of the loft. Small yellow lamps provided illumination. It felt a little like a camp-out to Evan, for although they were technically indoors, the wide windows, high ceiling, and smell of straw made it seem like they were outdoors.

'What’s this place like in winter?' he asked Pup. 'Doesn’t it get cold?'

'Nah.' Pup dropped down on his pallet, which was next to the one Evan had woken up on. 'It gets a little chilly sometimes, but not bad. Why? Do you come from someplace where it snows?' This last said with a trace of wonder.

Evan sat on his own pallet. 'Not where I lived, but it does get kind of cold.'

'I’ve always wanted to see snow,' Pup said wistfully.

Something occurred to Evan. 'What’s the name of this planet? It can’t be Earth.'

'Nope. It’s called July IV. I hear it’s some kind of joke, but nobody I know can explain it to me.'

'How long have you lived here?'

'For my whole memory. Mistress Blanc sold my dad away when I was eight and Ma accidentally drowned in one of the ponds the year after that. She tripped and hit her head and no one saw until it was too late.'

'Sucks,' Evan said, and Pup grinned at him. Evan moved closer to him and lowered his voice. 'Does anyone ever try to escape?'

Pain flashed down Evan’s arm and leg. He started to cry out, but Pup clapped a quick hand over Evan’s mouth. Evan thrashed for a moment as agony ripped at muscle and bone. Then it ended. Evan went limp.

'Don’t scream if you get shocked,' Pup said quietly. 'Some of the slaves-the ones who toady up-get mad at you.'

'So we still can’t say …certain words,' he muttered.

'Nope. And if you just mouth them, the computer catches that, too. And it learns code words after about twice. And if you go past the boundaries of the farm without permission, you get zapped.' Pup picked at the rough padding on his pallet. 'It ain’t worth trying anything. They always win. At least Mistress Blanc don’t mistreat her slaves. I hear one of the fruit farms up the road a ways has an owner who’s boiled people alive for just not calling him master. His managers take the women to their beds and beat the men. It can be pretty bad, so you just think about how lucky you are.'

Evan decided to change the subject. 'Can I see my mom?'

'Dunno. Maybe in the morning if you eat breakfast real quick and make a run to the house. You’ll be able to see her more in winter, when there ain’t so much to do. It don’t get cold, but a lot of the frogs hibernate anyway. Something about the days getting short making ‘em do it.'

'Do we ever go to school?'

Pup propped himself up on his shoulder and gave Evan an amused look with bright blue eyes. 'School? What for? You know how to read enough to puzzle out warning signs and directions, don’t you? And you can count, right?'

'Yeah.'

'And we’ll teach you about frogs. What else do you need to know around here?'

More than anything else, those simple sentences did it. The knowledge slammed into Evan like a brick and Evan fell back on the pallet under its weight. His situation was permanent. He would live, work, and eventually die here. He would never see his father, brother, or sister again. A hot tear slid from his eye and trickled into his ear. It was quickly followed by another.

And then Pup was sitting next to him on the pallet, holding out a pillow. Evan took it. The dried grass inside crackled.

'Use that,' Pup said softly. 'It hides the noise.'

Evan obeyed.

CHAPTER THREE

The only reason a frog feels happy in the muck is that it doesn’t know anything better.

— Irfan Qasad

The tomato frog’s eyes goggled and glistened like peeled grapes as it peered about. A cricket, lightly dusted with vitamin powder, leaped into view. The frog’s tongue snapped out. The cricket vanished, and the frog gave a satisfied croak.

A white butterfly net flashed downward. The frog tried to leap, but only managed to tangle itself. It was hoisted high into the air for a moment, then popped into a covered basket containing ten other outraged red frogs. Lizard Blanc deftly untangled the net and cast about for another tomato. Four more would fill the order, and if he caught them quickly enough, he might be able to pretend it took longer and steal a catnap among the bushes by the tree dumpies.

The thought of sleep made Lizard yawn again, and he had to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Overhead, the sun beat down through a thin haze of clouds that did little to blunt the heat and humidity. The water was blood-warm around his ankles, and the background drone of acres of frogs was such a constant in his life that he scarcely noticed it.

Lizard caught sight of another tomato. He flicked the net down, but the frog saw it coming and leaped into the water with a plop. Lizard grimaced and untangled the net. He really wanted that nap. His mother said that all teenagers went through a phase of needing more sleep because they were growing, but Lizard knew that wasn’t the problem. It seemed like he got almost no sleep at night these days, and it was all because of the dreams.

Another bit of red grabbed Lizard’s attention, and a moment later, another tomato frog joined its croaking brethren. Not long after he had turned fifteen, Lizard’s dreams had become steadily more vivid. In most of them, he was on walkabout in the Outback. It all felt so real-the bright, hot sun, the dry air, the rough rock and sandy earth beneath his feet. Usually it came as a surprise when he awoke to discover he was still on his pallet next to Pup’s. When he dreamed of the Outback, it was as if the last three years on the Blanc farm had been the dream, and he always woke up feeling restless and unhappy.

'Hey, Lizard!'

Lizard straightened to his full height. He had gained several centimeters since arriving at the farm, though his build was almost painfully thin. His skin was dark as oak bark from all the hours in the sun, and his hair, kept short, bleached from black to the same brown as his skin. He still wore the brown shirt and shorts of a mucker.

Pup stood at the edge of the tomato pool. He had also grown considerably, though not as much as Lizard, and his build was stockier. His white-blond hair shone in the sunlight, and it contrasted sharply with his heavy tan. At the moment, his blue eyes were dancing with excitement.

'Hey, Pup.' Lizard turned his gaze back to the pool. 'What’s going on?'

'We’ve been summoned,' Pup said eagerly. 'Come on!'

Lizard’s net flicked through the air and another frog went into the basket. 'Summoned? Where? What are you talking about?'

'To the house! Hurry up-we have to get ready. Forget the tomato order. Nater wants us!'

That got Lizard’s full attention. He had seen the headservant maybe three times since he and Mistress Blanc had brought him to the farm, and then only from a distance. 'He wants you and me up at the house?'

Pup nodded. 'I’ll explain on the way. Hurry up!'

Lizard splashed to the edge of the pond with basket and net, sending a dozen bright red frogs leaping for the