Free Earthquake by Kathleen Duey

had said, and they broke into single file to go down the passageway. At the far end, Dai Yue emerged into a tree-lined garden she had never seen before. Her uncle started across it, walking unevenly. Halfway to the other side, he stumbled. Brendan caught him. Dai Yue’s uncle shrugged him off, staggering on alone.
    â€œThis way now,” Dai Yue’s uncle rasped, leading them through a doorway. They passed down a hallway lined with doors on either side. The hall ran from the back of the house to the front. They came out into a narrow street.
    They followed it for a long way, then turned to pass through a tailor’s shop, going in the back door and out the front again. They came into another narrow street. Dai Yue’s uncle led them across it, slowing to step carefully over a scatter of boards. On the far side, he stopped and bent double, breathing hard.
    Dai Yue watched her uncle, worried. The smoke was so thick it was hard to breathe. Her eyes stungand her throat felt raw. She followed her uncle. Brendan kept up, but every few moments he looked back toward the curtain of smoke.
    â€œThis way,” Dai Yue’s uncle commanded.
    Dai Yue gestured and Brendan followed them into a meat shop. The smell was overpowering and Dai Yue felt her stomach clench. She realized how hungry she was and longed for a cup of tea to soothe her throat. Her uncle stopped near the front of the shop. There was a bucket sitting on the counter, with a dipper hanging from the rim. Dai Yue stopped, her dry throat aching at the sight of water. “Uncle, I am thirsty,” she said.
    He leaned on a table, waiting while she drank, then frowned when Brendan took the dipper from her. Dai Yue shot her uncle a glance, knowing that he would refuse to drink after the Fon Kwei boy. When her uncle spat on the floor, Brendan glanced at him, but did not speak.
    â€œYour uncle should drink, too,” Brendan said as they started out of the shop. “Mr. Malloy from the newspaper said that all the pipes in the city are broken. That’s why they can’t fight the fires. Who knows when we will get water again.”
    Dai Yue translated as much as she had understood. Her uncle only spat once more and hobbled ahead of them, going through the front door and down a few wide steps to the street.
    â€œThis is Clay Street,” Brendan said quietly as they descended. “This was on my route, too.” He looked surprised to be in familiar territory.
    Dai Yue understood only part of what he had said. In the distance, she heard a rapid sequence of muffled blasts. It sounded like a New Year’s celebration. Her uncle stopped, a contorted scowl on his face.
    â€œDai Yue, tell him to go now,” her uncle ordered, coughing, jabbing a finger in Brendan’s direction. “He will only bring us bad luck.”
    Dai Yue turned so that Brendan would not see the emotion in her face. “He saved your life, Uncle. You owe him a favor.”
    â€œIt is already repaid. He could not have found his own way out of the City of the Sons of Tang.”
    â€œBut he could have left me to die on the Fon Kwei street this morning.” Dai Yue was trembling. She had never spoken to her uncle this way.
    â€œI told you,” he said in a low voice. “This favor has already been repaid.”
    Dai Yue was angrier than she had ever been in her life. How could he ignore what Brendan had done? “He saved your life, as well, Uncle. I could not have done it alone. All the others just walked past.”
    Dai Yue fully expected her uncle to explode into a rage, but he did not. Instead he closed his eyes and took three long breaths. When he did speak, his voice was tight and clipped.
    â€œTell him I owe him one favor.”
    Dai Yue translated, accurately this time. Brendan nodded politely, listening to her while watching her uncle’s face.
    â€œExplain to him that he doesn’t owe me anything,” Brendan said.
    â€œHe