Salad Days

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

VEGETABLE KINGDOM, Eastern District

Brocc balanced himself on a stone wall, carrying a wooden basket of tools—hammers, screwdrivers, nails.

The stone wall zigzagged around the vegetable kingdom, rising over leafy roofs and separating the city from the shimmering cornfields to his right.

The air was full with ringing, hammering, and pounding. Vegetable citizens hung on scaffolds next to their vegetable-shaped houses, shuttering windows. Window sills that were once filled with potted flowers and buckets of herbs were now covered with mesh nets and nails meant to barb intruders. Tacks glinted on rooftops.

In the distance, red flags flapped on the castle spires—an attack warning.

Brocc lifted the basket in his hand and inhaled its thick, wooden smell. His dad had made it the night before, staying up all night in the basement. It was heavy with the weight of the jingling tools. He had never used any of them before, at least not like this.

He had built things with his hands—little trains for the orphans, a sign, or a table here and there. But he had never built a bomb shelter before. He wasn’t sure what it would look like. He imagined tunnels of swirling darkness below ground, bombs exploding overhead. He imagined living inside them forever, running endlessly as Gourmans chased him, then shook the vision from his mind. The king and cabinet had promised the fighting would be over soon. Everyones’s worried for nothing, he consoled himself.

A bleary film of gray, mashed potato clouds swirled overhead like locusts. The air felt heavy, ready to burst.

He stopped and walked across the wall more slowly. One foot in front of the other. Backflip. Two steps forward, a quick dash into a one-handed somersault. He kept the tools in the basket with sheer centripetal force. One wrong step and he’d either crash into the cornfields or through the roof of a house. But he had crossed this wall so many times that it was like second nature to him. He always knew where to step, where to land.

Another backflip. A hammer flew out of the basket but he caught it and threw it back in.

Something hit him on the head in the middle of the next backflip, and he lost his balance. He bounced off the hard roof of a rutabaga house and landed in a water trough, breaking it. He shielded his head as the tools rained around him, clanging across the cobblestone street.

“Ow!”

He rubbed his head as a shadow dropped out of the sky. A tall cauliflower in a black greatcoat, jeans, and blue Chucks landed in front of him. She wore a white bean necklace with big beads and her perfume smelled like tarragon. Her white crown was similar to Brocc’s, but her face was softer, and her orange eyes were narrowed into an angry slant.

“What took you so long?”

“Geez, sis, you could’ve killed me! What if I had broken my neck?”

Caulette took his hand and helped him up. He wiped his face with his white shirt, but it was soaked. His Chucks squished with every step, and he took them off and squeezed the water out of them.

“We don’t have time to wait on you,” Caulette said. Her voice was stern, with an edge of anger. “We can’t build the shelter without the supplies.”

Brocc pointed to all the tools on the ground. “Luckily they’re not as damaged as I am.”

Caulette grabbed the basket and quickly scooped the tools inside. “This isn’t funny, you know.”

“You’re so uptight,” he said, shrugging. “You don’t really think the Gourmans are going to attack us, right? Right?”

Caulette turned and started walking. Brocc wrung water out of his shirt and ran to catch up to her.

“Come on, answer the question.”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. Look at the stone walls. We’ve got an army. The king is just being cautious. I get that. But I don’t see why we have to ‘secure’ everything.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Caulette said, “but it’s not just you and me that we have to worry about. Not just Mom and Dad. We’ve got the children to think of, Brocc. You’re being irresponsible.”

“Whatever.”

Caulette frowned and walked faster.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“I haven’t been able to sleep lately. I feel tense, like something bad is going to happen.”

“The king’s announcement scared you. Everyone’s afraid, but we’re gonna be fine, Caulette. Now’s not the time to be so nervous about everything.”

It was just like her to be nervous. She was always worrying about something. Even before the war escalated, she fretted over house projects, or where to take the children on a field trip. She wasn’t herself unless she had something to worry about. Brocc, on the other hand, just let things flow. Life was like a big river, and all you had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride. Sure, you came across rapids every once in a while, but you didn’t have to worry about them until you got there.

Caulette stopped in front of a bright green house shaped like an asparagus. The windows were boarded up, like eyelids forced shut in the wake of a coming storm.

“Don’t you think it’s sad?” she asked.

“What?”

Caulette closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “The smell of herbs is gone. The streets smell empty now. They smell like wood and metal.”

Brocc sniffed twice. “I guess you’re right.”

“Who knows when we’ll be able to take all the shutters down from the windows, when we’ll be able to live like we used to?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

“No. Even if the king lifted the alert today, things would never be the same. You and I won’t be able to walk down the street without remembering all of this—all of this fear.”

Brocc wasn’t sure what to think of her philosophical comments. “But what can we do, sis? Let’s focus on now. You’ll lose your roots if you think about all the possibilities of the future. What’s wrong with living day by day?”

“One of us has to think about the future, Brocc. What if something happens to Mom and Dad? What will we do?”

Brocc frowned. Several vegetables he knew had lost family members in the war. He didn’t want to think about it. “We agreed we wouldn’t talk about that.”

Caulette looked hurt. “Not now, then. But—”

Brocc shushed her. He heard footsteps against cobblestone. Boots.

“You hear that?” he asked.

An eastern wind howled against the rooftops.

They heard more footsteps, and they stood back-to-back, turning in a circle and trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

A barrel in nearby alley fell over, spilling out alfalfa. Brocc jumped at the sound.

“You don’t think—” Caulette asked.

A knot throbbed in Brocc’s throat. If it was a Gourman, they’d have no way to fight. They’d be stuck in the middle of the street with no weapons, no defenses.

Brocc’s stomach scrunched up at the thought of having to defend himself from an armed soldier.

A round shadow jumped out of the alley with its arms wide and tongue flailing. Brocc screamed loudly and stumbled back.

The onion burst into laughter, pointing up at them. Several layers of his bulb were slicked back with sweet-smelling pomade.

“The looks on your faces!”

“That wasn’t funny, Frank,” Caulette said. She reached in her coat and pulled out a knife. “I might have stabbed you.”

“Cheesus, Caulette, put that thing away,” Brocc said, panting. He punched Frank on the shoulder and tried to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

“See? I told you,” said a voice. A celery stepped out of the shadows. She wore a floral tank top, and two curly celery strings hung down over her face. Her face was tough, her tone sardonic. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”

Frank stood and grabbed his knees. “Come on, Celerity. They were on a quiet street, whispering like it was the end of the world. They were asking for it.” When Caulette said nothing, he continued, “You gotta lighten up. Thinking about King Carrodias’s speech too much, are you?”

Brocc tilted his head at Caulette. “She is.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Caulette said. “Stop acting like it.”

Celerity nodded. “Brocc, your dad has everyone on the block looking for you. That’s why we’re here. Soldiers hit the street at dusk. If you get caught after curfew, they’ll fine you. King Carrodias is serious about the shelters.” She glanced at Caulette with a look that seemed to ask for approval—Caulette gave slight smile but turned away.

Brocc puffed. “We’ve got nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Frank?”

Frank pointed his thumb at his chest. “If anything happens, I’ll peel back a few layers and make those Gourmans cry. They’ll wish they never tried to dice our kingdom, that’s for sure.”

Celerity smiled. “You’ll kill them with a stench, alright.”

“Hey! What’s the supposed to mean?”

Caulette started to walk away. “We’ve got to get back. We still need to finish our shelter.”

“Ours is almost done,” Frank said. “When we’re done, we can come help. That’s what good neighbors are for. Isn’t that right, Cel?”

“We just came to help find you, Brocc,” Celerity said. “Good luck with everything.”

They came to an intersection. Frank and Celerity waved and turned down a street; Brocc and Caulette started in the opposite direction.

Brocc saw a shadow sweep by out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked behind him. The houses were quiet and the street empty.

Must have been nothing.

Frank’s joke had heightened his senses.

“What’s wrong, Brocc?” Caulette asked.

Brocc shrugged and caught up with her.