1269_UgliesFreeBook

166 Scott Westerfeld
“Thanks a lot,” Tally said as she stepped on, leaning forward
as the sun began to set. She was anxious to leave the
campsite behind her as quickly as possible, in case they
came back.
But who were they? The flying machine had been just
like what Tally imagined when her teachers had described
Rusty contraptions: a portable tornado crashing along,
destroying everything in its path. Tally had read about aircraft
that shattered windows as they flew past, armored war
vehicles that could drive straight through a house.
But the Rusties had been gone a long time. Who would
be stupid enough to rebuild their insane machines?
Tally rode into the growing darkness, her eyes peeled
for any signs of the next clue—“Four days later take the
side you despise”—and for whatever other surprises the
night would bring.
One thing was certain now: She wasn’t alone out here.
Later that night, the river branched in two.
Tally cruised to a halt, surveying the junction. One of
the branches was clearly larger, the other more like a broad
stream. A “tributary,” she remembered, was the name for a
small river that fed into a larger one.
Probably she should just stay on the main river. But
she’d been traveling for just three days, and her hoverboard
was a lot faster than most. Maybe it was time for the
next clue.