Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

back out of the paddy, dripping wet. “See? Fresh as a flower.”
    “I’m going to throw up,” said Meilin.
    “Not on me,” said Hopper. “I just bathed.”
    They took off at a jog along the narrow bridge of earth that separated two of the paddies, heading out into the vast fields of rice. They ran slower so that Hopper could keep up, but it was a good steady pace for distance running.
    After a few hundred yards Bingwen glanced back at the staircase to see if Zihao was following. There were a few children coming down, but Zihao wasn’t among them. They didn’t slow their pace.
    “What’s the plan?” said Hopper.
    “For what?” asked Bingwen.
    “Warning everyone,” said Hopper.
    Bingwen smiled. He could always count on Hopper. “I don’t know that anyone’s going to believe us. I showed Ms. Yí, and she shrugged it off.”
    “Ms. Yí’s an old water buffalo,” said Hopper.
    They ran for half an hour, cutting across the fields that followed the bends and turns of the valley. When they reached Meilin’s village, she stopped and faced them at the bottom of the stairs. “I can make it from here,” she said, gesturing up to her house near the bottom of the hill. “What do I tell my parents?”
    “The truth,” said Bingwen. “Tell them what you saw. Tell them you believe it. Tell them to go to the library and see it for themselves.”
    Meilin looked up into the sky where the first few dozen stars had already appeared. “Maybe they don’t mean us any harm. Maybe they’re peaceful.”
    “Maybe,” said Bingwen. “But you didn’t see all of the vid. The alien attacked one of the humans.”
    Even in the low light Bingwen could see Meilin grow pale.
    “Oh,” she said.
    “But maybe they won’t come here to China,” said Bingwen. “The world is a big place. We’re only a tiny, microscopic dot on it.”
    “You’re only telling me what I want to hear,” said Meilin.
    “I’m telling you the truth. There are a lot of unknowns at the moment.”
    “Even so,” said Meilin, “we’d be stupid not to prepare for the worst.”
    “You’re right,” said Bingwen.
    She nodded and looked more insecure than before. “Good luck. Stay safe.”
    They watched her ascend the stairs and waited until she was inside her home before they started running again. They stayed in the fields, jogging along the narrow earth bridges that crisscrossed the fields horizontally and vertically, creating a huge patchwork quilt of irrigated paddies. When they were almost to their own village, the first boy appeared behind them, several paddies back. Then a boy to their right appeared a few paddies over, matching their speed in a run. A third boy on their left appeared next, watching them as he kept pace with them.
    “We’re being corralled,” said Hopper.
    “Boxed in,” said Bingwen.
    Sure enough, the boys around them began closing in.
    “Ideas?” said Hopper.
    “They’re taller than us,” said Bingwen. “And faster. We can’t outrun them.”
    “You mean I can’t outrun them,” said Hopper.
    “No, I mean both of us. You actually have greater stamina than me. You have a better chance of getting through than I do.”
    “Plan,” said Hopper.
    “You run ahead and get my father. I hang back and keep them busy.”
    “Self-sacrifice. How noble. Forget it. I’m not leaving you.”
    “Think, Hopper. Stay and we both get pummeled. Run ahead, and we might not. I’m saving my skin as much as yours. Now go.”
    Hopper picked up his speed, and Bingwen stopped where he was. As expected, the other boys closed in, ignoring Hopper. Bingwen turned to his left and stepped down the embankment into the nearest paddy. The water was cold and reached his waist. The mud was thick and squishy beneath his feet. The rice shoots were packed tightly together and tall as his shoulders. Bingwen scanned the edge of the paddy until he found one of the paddy frogs half submerged near the embankment. He scooped it up, stuffed the frog into his pocket, and made his way to the center of the paddy. By the time he reached it, the boys had arrived. Each of them took up a position on one of the paddy’s sides, leaving the northernmost side, the side toward Bingwen’s village, unguarded. Less than a minute later Zihao arrived at that end of the paddy, breathing heavily from the run. It was almost full dark now.
    “Out of the water,” said Zihao.
    Bingwen didn’t move.
    “You ruined our time at the library, mud brain,” said Zihao.