“We missed something is all,” he says. “There’s probably bones all over this place. We are going back. When we get to the hall that leads to the haunted room, we’ll go the other way. Simple.”
Before meeting the marchers, I knew I wanted to travel down the new hall. But Bishop’s group came from there, and they didn’t find any food or water. They also seem to be a bit lost—same thing could happen to us if we go that way. And I have to agree with Latu: I don’t want to see any more bodies. Maybe it’s best if I stick to my original plan.
Up can’t go on forever.
I start to point down the long hall behind me, then realize I’m using the knife to do that. I stop myself and use my free hand instead.
“We came from that way. We’re following this hall until it ends. I think if we turn too much, we won’t know which way we’re going.”
The El-Saffani twins look at each other. The rest of Bishop’s friends exchange glances. Is it possible this never occurred to them?
“We’ll keep going straight,” I say. “You are all welcome to join us if you want.”
Bishop’s expression changes. He looks at me with admiration, but also something else…like I have challenged his authority, and he has to do something about that.
He steps closer. He’s a full head taller than I am. I have to look up to meet his strange yellow eyes. O’Malley bristles; he’s as wound up as El-Saffani.
Bishop smiles down at me.
“You are brave,” he says. “You didn’t run. Almost everyone runs from me. Our groups should stay together. There is strength in numbers. You and your friends will come with us.”
He thinks I’m brave? It’s almost funny. The biggest person I’ve ever seen rushed at me, screaming, thrusting a spear: I couldn’t even move, and he mistakes that for courage. Well, whatever he thinks, we’re not going to start blindly wandering around this place.
I square my shoulders and stare up at him.
“I told you where we are going, Bishop.”
That half-confused, half-angry look comes over his face again.
“But I carry the spear. That means I’m in charge.”
O’Malley leans in. “Maybe someone else should carry it.”
Bishop smiles at him. It is a very different smile from the one he gave me.
“You could take it out of my hand,” he says to O’Malley. “If you do, then you’re in charge.”
O’Malley holds the scepter at his side. He nervously grips and re-grips the jeweled shaft.
Bishop glances down at the scepter, almost eagerly, like he hopes O’Malley will take the first swing.
“I like Savage,” Bishop says. “I don’t like you. What’s your name?”
“O’Malley.”
“That’s a pretty weapon, O’Malley,” Bishop says. “Nice and sparkly.”
This is going to end in blood. Just like with Yong.
I can prevent a fight—all I have to do is let Bishop lead. All I have to do is say the words, and no one will get hurt.
But I can’t, because I want to be the leader.
Still smiling at O’Malley, Bishop closes his eyes. “Why don’t you hit me with your sparkly weapon? I’m not even looking. You’ll probably knock me out with one shot, then you can take the spear.”
Bishop is daring him. I see O’Malley considering it, brow furrowing, eyes flitting from the bridge of Bishop’s nose to his temple to his jaw, looking for the best place to strike. Beads of sweat break out on O’Malley’s forehead, darkening the dust coating his skin. We’re about to slide into a huge fight. He’s going to swing, blood will spill, blood all over….
Then, O’Malley visibly relaxes. The stress vanishes from his features. His face is once again blank, expressionless.
“I have a better idea, Bishop,” he says. “You insist on all of us staying together, so why don’t all of us decide who gets to be in charge?”
Bishop’s eyes open. His smile fades.
“How can everyone decide? That’s the point of having a leader in the first place, to make decisions. Isn’t it?”
O’Malley nods. “That is the point. But sticking together was your idea, right?”
Bishop looks suspicious. “Yes, but I still don’t know what you’re saying.”
Gaston crosses his arms, grins.
“He means we take a vote, Bishop,” the boy says. “That way no one gets hurt.”
Bishop glances at the others in his group. This situation is getting away from him, and he knows it. It’s not that he’s stupid, because I can tell he’s not, but at the same time, he’s not as smart as O’Malley. Not even close.
Bishop thinks for a moment, then nods.
“All right, fine, we can vote. I organized eighteen people. Savage, you organized four. So I win the vote.” His chest puffs out. “I am the leader.”
Gaston shakes his head. “The only reason you were in charge in the first place was because if we didn’t agree with you, you hit us. You didn’t organize people, you oversized idiot, you bullied them.”