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something,” he says. “My father—I mean, my progenitor’s father—worked for a city. Maybe. Anyway, my progenitor saw buildings like this. They’re used to store food.”
    If he’s right, that means the Grownups built this city. So where are they? What happened to them?
    If that building holds food, it could mean the difference between life and death. We need to learn what plants we can and can’t eat, how to farm and hunt, but mastering those skills will probably take much longer than our supplies will last.

    “It’s not far,” Gaston says. “It would only take a couple of hours to walk there.”
    Aramovsky points to the glowing dot at the map’s center. “Why not just fly the shuttle right to it?”
    “I’m not sure there’s a place to land,” Gaston says. “And besides, the shuttle needs fuel to fly.” He pauses, opens his mouth to say something, then closes it.
    Spingate finishes for him. “We have barely enough fuel left for one trip to the Xolotl . If we fly around for other purposes—for anything —we won’t be able to go back. Not ever.”
    Everyone falls silent. I hadn’t realized going back was an option. The thought is uncomfortable: if we fail on Omeyocan, our survival might depend on returning to a place where people want to kill us.
    Aramovsky waves a hand dismissively. “The God of Blood sent us here. We are destined to succeed. God gave us this shuttle, and we should use it to—”
    “We walk,” I say sharply, cutting him off. “Like Bishop said, we have to reconnoiter anyway, so we’ll do some of that while we go to the warehouse. If we find food there, we have more time to figure out what to do next.”
    Bishop stands straighter. “I’ll take Farrar and Coyotl. We’ll move fast, come back and report to you.”
    “I’ll go as well,” Spingate says.
    Bishop shakes his head. “No, you’ll slow us down.”
    Spingate lifts the arm with the bracer. “If we find food or water, this will tell us if it’s poisonous.”
    “If we find food or water, we’ll bring some back,” Bishop says. “Then you can tell us if it’s safe.”

    Spingate puts her hands on her hips.
    “She’s going,” I say. “As am I.”
    Bishop glares at me. So does O’Malley.
    “It’s dangerous, Em,” O’Malley says. “The leader shouldn’t go out until we know you won’t get hurt.”
    Once again the boys want to keep me safe . Too bad—I’m not the kind to hide away when there is work to be done.
    “If I don’t face danger, I can’t ask others to do the same,” I say. “And we don’t know what plants or animals we’ll find on the way. We have no idea what might be edible here. Spingate will evaluate as we go.”
    Bishop sighs, shakes his head. O’Malley forces the scowl off his face.
    “Let’s get ready,” I say. “O’Malley, you and Gaston are in charge while I’m gone. We need to know everything that’s in this shuttle—and find out who’s inside those coffins.”

W e set out from the shuttle: Spingate and I, along with Bishop, Coyotl and Farrar. Everyone sees us off, waving and cheering. O’Malley is staying behind. He can’t hide his concern. Is he worried about my safety? That he’ll have to keep an eye on Aramovsky? Or is he worried I’ll be with Bishop?
    Maybe it’s all those things.
    At least O’Malley wasn’t as bad as Gaston. The little pilot looked like he was on the edge of tears because Spingate was leaving. Just before we left, I saw them facing each other, holding hands. He looked at the ground, nodding his head while she spoke softly.
    I have the spear. Bishop has his red axe. The heavy shovel rests on Farrar’s shoulder. Coyotl still prefers his tried-and-true thighbone.
    Spingate carries the jewel-studded tool I found back in the Xolotl ’s coffin room. Her bag also holds a white case filled with bandages, sharp little knives, pills, needles and thread for stitching wounds, containers of ointments and other things. Smith taught Spingate how to