"Nothing like the rain

nothing like the rain,

when you're in outer space..."

“No, no, you can’t fill it up all the way. No, listen to me, the gas will spill out the top. , wait, hold on. Let me show you.”

From fifteen feet away, up on the curb, Moonbyul rolled her eyes.

“Elly!” she shouted. “The man is a professional! He knows how to refuel a ship!”

Elly waved dismissively, ignoring her friend’s words in favor of barking directions over the shoulder of a stocky, bearded gas attendant. Moonbyul knew what that gesture meant. She’d known Elly long enough to know exactly what she was thinking – even though they were docked at one of the most popular refueling stations in the solar system, these experienced, well-trained employees couldn’t handle her precious Pandora.

As far as Moonbyul was concerned, she was only half-right. No one at the Geum Haneul station could handle their ship but it wasn’t for any of the reasons Elly wanted to believe. The Pandora was a lot of things – creaky, dumpy, rusted – but precious had never been one of them.

“I still have to charge you for a full tank,” the guy said and Elly just shrugged. They were already hemorrhaging money trying to keep the ship stocked and in the air. What was another few dollars?

At the mention of their funds, Sunny looked to Moonbyul.

“How much money do we have left?” Moonbyul just shook her head. That wasn’t a good sign. “Do we have enough to lodge somewhere tonight?” Sunny asked. Because she didn’t want to stick around to watch Elly explain the crack in the gas tank for the fifth time in as many weeks, she linked her arm with Moonbyul’s and lead them both towards the benches further down the sidewalk. “Or are we sleeping in the streets?”

Moonbyul shrugged.

“Depends on what our brave captain tells the mechanic,” Moonbyul said. She sighed deeply as she sat down, her body sore and her mind tired. The gas attendant appeared to have figured out the leak situation and Elly stood behind him, nodding and looking pleased. “We need a lot of repairs.”

“But we can’t afford a lot of repairs,” Sunny said, stating the obvious just to fill the air. She twirled a strand of bright red hair around her finger, fighting back the low hum of panic that always drummed through her when they stopped to refuel. Each stop brought them closer and closer to bankruptcy and with the way Elly had been talking about supplies lately, she knew things were getting dicey. “What needs fixing the most?”

Moonbyul rested heavily against the back of the bench, ready to fall asleep, out in the open, in the middle of hustling, bustling Geum Haneul. It was one of her favorite planets to visit, despite the high prices of everything except fuel, and she wished they could afford to stay longer.

She’d always had a soft spot for the metropolitan planets, especially the smaller ones. She’d grown up in the city and being surrounded by intense, high-strung people who rushed around and clawed their way to the top. She loved the lights and sounds of the city. She was an engineer – she even loved the perpetual smell of rocket fuel.

Most of all, Moonbyul loved the view. Geum Haneul literally meant “gold sky” and that was all there was to it. Back in Seoul, Moonbyul only saw a golden sky if that night’s sunset was feeling generous and flashy. On Geum Haneul, it was a constant. It was glitzy and indulgent, a rich, warm, yellow sky that stretched in every direction.

But that evening, sitting on a bench and watching Elly pull her cash-card from her back pocket, the sky just served to remind Moonbyul of the wealth they’d never have.

“Everything needs fixing, Sunny,” Moonbyul said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and rub her face with her hands.

The sad thing was it was barely an exaggeration. It would be easier for her to list the things that didn’t need repairs or upgrades. Some of it was serious stuff – engine problems, aging ers, hardware defects. It was an old ship, one Elly bought secondhand after she graduated flight school. A lot of the issues were just plain wear-and-tear that couldn’t be avoided.

The rest of it was simply a matter of mind-numbing inconvenience. If you wanted the lights in the engine room to work without flickering or browning out, you needed to make sure there were no lights on in the kitchen or common room. If you wanted to work any of the small appliances – the toaster or the microwave – you could make sure the kitchen thermostat was set to exactly sixty-one degrees.

Moonbyul didn’t know if it was all just a case of faulty wiring or just bad luck but it reminded her of her first car when she was a teenager back in Korea. The radio didn’t work if the air-conditioner was on sometimes you had to floor it in reverse to make the steering wheel stop sticking.

She thought for sure that securing an advanced degree in engineering and taking to the skies meant that her days of trying to survive in a crappy, unreliable vehicle were over, but the Pandora was held together with duct tape and faith. And they were running out of both.

“I made a detailed list,” Moonbyul said after a pause, “researched the cost of each piece, and gave it to Elly. It’s her call.”

Sunny chewed her lip.

“You’re the engineer,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be making these decisions?”

“It’s her ship,” Moonbyul countered, a dull headache forming behind her eyes. “And it’s her money.” Sunny was three years Moonbyul’s senior but the younger girl still felt an inborne responsibility to reassure her. Of the Pandora crew, Moonbyul had the clearest head and the steadiest hand. She took it upon herself to make sure everyone was at peace and those days, it was getting harder and harder to do. Putting her hand on Sunny’s knee, she forced a tired smile. “Elly won’t screw us. She knows what she’s doing.”

“You’re right,” Sunny said after a beat. She shook her head, trying to shake away the woes that plagued her and clogged her senses like wet cement. “I think the lack of sleep is getting to me.”

Moonbyul slapped her knee, rising to her feet when she saw Elly approaching.

“We’ll get a good night’s sleep tonight,” she said, “and feel better in the morning.” Elly got closer and Moonbyul fought her frown.

Their captain didn’t look pleased.

“How’d it go?” Sunny asked.

“It’ll be ready by the time we wake up tomorrow,” Elly said, the confidence in her voice feigned with an ease and a believability that could only be achieved by someone who always felt like a mother lying to her kids to keep from scaring them. “With a totally-in-one-piece gas tank and a heating system that doesn’t leak mysterious but definitely poisonous liquid.” 

Moonbyul cracked her first genuine smile since entering Geum Haneul’s atmosphere.

“Good choices, unnie.”

Elly nodded, appreciative but tired and beginning to fray.

“I hate to ask,” Sunny said, rocking back and forth on her heels and her toes the way she always did when she was nervous, “but how much money do we have left?”

Elly exhaled roughly, blowing the hair from her eyes.

“I’ll tell you when we get into the danger zone,” she said. That was another lie. They’d been in the danger zone for about two weeks. “For now, though, I need a drink.”

Sunny perked up.

“Can we afford a drink?” Moonbyul teased, and Elly looked only ten-percent annoyed. The rest of her just appreciated Moonbyul’s undying sarcasm. It was a comforting constant in their world of unpredictably and it made things feel less impossible.

“We can afford a drink,” Elly said as she gestured to the huge, welcoming sign for her favorite bar on Geum Haneul, “but we’re all going to have to share it.”

The Sleep Inn was the cheapest motel in the city and so the decision to rent a room there practically made itself.

The girls grabbed their one, shared drink, the cheapest dinner they could find on the downtown strip and then took what they needed off the Pandora before it was towed away for repairs. Elly stared sadly over her shoulder the way she always did, staring lovingly at her ship like a mother watching her child leave for war.

“It’ll be fine,” Moonbyul said, wrapping an arm around Elly’s shoulder. “Geum Haneul has the best mechanics and engineers in the solar system.”

Elly simply nodded, doing some silent, depressing math in her head.

They had enough for the fuel, the repairs, the room and a few more days of food but if they didn’t come across their next job soon, they’d be munching on space rocks.

Noticing that Elly was too deep in thought to be of much use, Moonbyul told her and Sunny to sit in the lobby which she checked them in. While Moonbyul wheeled and dealed with the woman at the front desk, trying every lie in her arsenal to try and get a reduced rate, Elly sat in sagging armchair and wracked her brain for answers.

What would they do if they couldn’t find a job before money ran out? She hadn’t just dipped into her savings; she’d drained bled them dry. She was failing, both as a leader and as a professional pilot, and she was letting her team down.

In general, they did odd jobs. Most crews – ones with newer, top-of-the-line ships – had specialties. They were military contractors who went out to keep (or break) the peace, or they were scientists who sampled plants, rocks and alien life. People took to the skies with a purpose, a skillset that was set in stone.

But Elly hadn’t.

She went to flight school, graduated at the top of her class, used every dollar she had to her name to buy the Pandora and never looked back. She had the skills, the passion and the support of two great friends.

What she’d never had was a five-year plan.

And now five years had passed.

She was newly twenty-five years old, the captain of a ship that barely made it off the ground, and she was dangerously close to being stranded on Geum Haneul with no money and no prospects.

Moonbyul clapped her hands twice to pull Elly from her thoughts and when she was focused, the younger girl waved the keycard.

“Time to rest,” she said, nodding her chin towards the door. “We’re in room 805.”

As Elly was always the quietest in the group, she didn’t think the girls would notice how distressed she was. She had a hell of a poker face, a stoicism that more or less concealed all of her thoughts and feelings as long as she kept shut. She hoped, at least, that if her friends didrealize she was upset, they wouldn’t push her to talk about it.

They didn’t know how bad it was. Not yet.

“Motel, sweet motel,” Sunny said, pressing the keycard against the sensor outside the door. “Boy, I hope these beds are comfortable.” She threw open the door and slapped her hand on the light switch, stopping short when she got onside. “Bed,” she corrected, deadpan. “Singular. One bed. I hope the bed is comfortable.”

Moonbyul sighed so loudly, the people in the next room might’ve heard her.

“That cosmo- in the lobby swore there were two beds,” she said, turning on her heel with the intention of teaching that stupid liar a lesson, but Elly’s hand was on her shoulder before she could march off.

“Don’t,” she said. She pointed to the wall near the bathroom. “There’s a couch. You two duke it out over who gets what. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Sunny was already unpacking.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Two of us will share a bed and the third will take the couch. It’s fine.”

“You two share the bed then,” Elly said and when her friends protested, she raised her hand to silence them. She felt bad enough that they had to spend the night, hungry, in this ty traveler’s motel. She wasn’t going to make them break their backs on a lumpy couch just because she was a bad leader. “I’m the captain. I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” Sunny said, smirking as she stripped off her jacket in favor of changing into her pajamas. “Thanks, Elly.”

Elly just nodded, tossing her pillow on the couch.

“I’m going to freshen up and then I need to look for a job,” she said. “Byul, can I use your tablet?”

It was the only working tablet they had left. Sunny had dropped hers, shattering the screen and reducing it to a sea of splinters and glass dust. Elly’s had fallen prey to some sort of all-too-common drive failure after a software update and now just sat in a drawer, taking up space.

“Of course,” Moonbyul said. “I’ll make sure it’s charged.”

As soon as the bathroom door was shut, Elly leaned against it, slid down and sat on the floor in a heap of disappointment and self-loathing. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms, wondering how she got them into such a hole.

They’d always struggled, they’d always lived paycheck-to-paycheck but until now, they’d always had enough. There had been enough to fill the gas tank, enough to fill the fridge, and they scrounged and saved for upgrades and repairs. It wasn’t easy but it was always doable and Elly thought it built character. They weren’t a bunch of rich, spoiled soldiers, doctors and tech-heads on a fancy, tricked-out super-ship. They were three strong, smart, independent women who worked for a living and appreciated every dollar they earned.

Until now, Elly liked that about herself.

She forced herself off the ground and moved to the sink, keeping her head down to avoid seeing her herself in the mirror. She splashed cold water on her face and dried her skin with a towel that wasn’t half as soft as it looked, wishing she’d grabbed their own towels from the ship before the attendants took it away.

Needing a wakeup call, she dared to look her reflection in the eye, noticing idly how much older she looked those days. Her dark hair was getting too long and she wondered if Sunny would cut it for her. Sunny’s hair always looked good and she did it all herself, never having enough money to visit one of the salons and refreshers featured by most refueling stations.

Her hands gripping the edge of the counter, she made the dejected realization that she didn’t looked like Captain Elly of the Pandora – she looked like Ahn Hyojin.

She’d legally changed her name a few months before graduating flight school, much to the dismay of her father who thought she’d keep his name forever, even after she got married. Elly explained, calmly and respectfully, that she just couldn’t be Hyojin anymore. She couldn’t be the poor, introverted book worm anymore. She couldn’t be insecure and shy and unsure and meek.

To her, that’s who Hyojin was, and that’s who she’d always be if she stayed Hyojin.

But she loved her father and she agreed to keep her family’s name. She was destined for greatness and as soon as she signed the papers, legally declaring to every galaxy in the ‘verse that she was Ahn Elly, she felt reborn.

When she graduated, her father had given her a gold stopwatch. It was ancient, dating back to her great-great-great-great grandfather, and had been passed down generation after generation. Part of her felt extremely guilty that he was giving it to her and not her brother but Elly was older and she’d always been a daddy’s girl.

If Elly had learned anything in her five years in space, it was that time – at least the constrictive, linear format that she’d been taught – was completely meaningless. It was a social concept created by humans who never, ever thought they’d leave the spinning rock called earth. Trillions upon trillions of miles from her home in Cheonan, South Korea, Elly knew that seconds, minutes and hours meant absolutely nothing to a universe so fast and so unyielding.

But it was still her prized possession. She missed her father more than anyone else and that beautiful antique was her tangible link to him. When she was working on a solo shift, when Moonbyul and Sunny were asleep and she was sitting in the pilot’s seat, hurdling through an endless darkness dotted with diamonds, she stared at the watch. She watched seconds tick away and she thought of her father.

And she hated herself for thinking about pawning it.

Technology had come so far. Humanity had learned so much about the universe and created and invented things that excelled science by leaps and bounds. Silver and gold? It was virtually meaningless. A thousand years ago, they were precious, valuable metals used to show status and wealth. Now, they were just two of a million shiny objects that could be mined from rock and earth.

But this watch was an antique. It was in great shape. There was a huge community of space-dwellers who loved anything from the old world, loved to cast aside humanity’s incredibly achievements in space and technology and focus on the ancient gems and relics of a simpler time.

If she’d found the right person (and it would be easy with the sort of interplanetary trading networks online), they’d pay out the for that watch.

And she hated that she thought about it every single day.

Even now, it was in the pocket of her jeans, tempting and taunting her.

She reached down, palming it through the denim and shutting her eyes. She thought of her father, and she couldn’t decide what would hurt him more – the fact that she was considering hocking it or the fact that she was doing so poorly that she needed to.

She knew she’d been in the bathroom too long. Any longer and the girls would start to worry that something was up.

To cover her tracks, she flushed the toilet and ran the faucet for fifteen seconds. She ran her fingers through her hair, making it look like she’d actually done something to clean herself up, and then emerged from the bathroom. Sunny was already in bed, the covers pulled up to her chest, and flipping through the channels on the out-of-date television set. Moonbyul was nowhere to be found.

“Where’d Byullie go?” Elly asked, digging through her duffel bag to find something more comfortable to wear for the rest of the night.

“She got a phone call,” Sunny said, distracted.

Elly wanted to ask who’d called but lost interest when she found her pajamas. She changed quickly and settled into the lumpier-than-would-be-preferred couch. Punching Moonbyul’s super creative and secure lock-code – 1234Passowrd – into the tablet, she navigated to a website called Occupants Net, a job listings site that she used whenever they were strapped for cash.

She used the website’s filter to set her parameters – the ship wasn’t in good enough shape to make a super long journey so the job had to be at least relatively close to Geum Haneul, and they didn’t have the sort of weapons or defensive system needed to do a pirating job.

From there, it was trial and error.

She clicked a listing, read the details, weighed the distance and the challenges against the potential payout and either exited the page or saved it to her list to show Sunny and Moonbyul later. She did this over and over and over again, reading ad after ad until her eyes watered and her wrists were sore from holding the tablet.

Even when Moonbyul returned and shut off the lights so that she and Sunny could get some sleep, Elly kept browsing, the tablet’s bright screen stinging her eyes. Sometime after two in the morning (linear time still meant nothing to Elly but Geum Haneul was one of many planets that used Cosmos Standard Time), Elly stood up and stretched. Sunny and Moonbyul were both fast asleep, the former half-hanging off the bed and the latter snoring like a congested trucker.

She cracked her neck, her back and her knuckles before taking a spotty glass from the TV stand and getting a drink of water from the bathroom sink. For a few seconds, she just stood in the doorway, watching her sleeping friends in the flashing glow of the television. Sunny had stolen most of the blanket but Moonbyul had fallen asleep with the remote in her hands.

Moonbyul was a brilliant engineer. They’d met at a bar in Seoul, Moonbyul trying to blow off steam after final exams and Elly wanting to celebrate her first solo flight. They had the same dark, dry sense of humor, the same sharp mind, the same deeply rooted loyalty. Moonbyul was the type of friend who was with you for life and she might’ve been the only person in the universe who could effortlessly handle all the faulty pieces of both the Pandora’s engine and Elly’s personality.

Sunny was a bright, sensitive tech analysis with the biggest heart Elly had ever known. She was loud and genuine and jovial and her laugh was one of Elly’s favorite sounds. She was so skilled and so competent, the type of techie that could find out anything about anyone. Elly had taken the Pandora to a body shop shortly after she bought it, just to make sure it was safe to fly. The owner’s niece, a petite redhead with a high voice and contagious smile, offered to check her computer systems for her and the rest was history.

Elly loved them both so much. She couldn’t imagine her life without them. She always thought her favorite part of being a pilot would be the freedom but in reality, it was getting to spend every day with her two best friends.

She loved them so much and she was failing them.

She saw her father’s watch on the table, thought about it again, and then went to the bed. Sunny was so deep a sleeper that she didn’t even stir when Elly pushed her small body back onto the mattress. She pulled the blanket so that it was covering both of them, gently pried the remote from Moonbyul’s hands.

She could never sleep with the TV on.

As soon as it was off and the room was quiet and dark, Elly passed out, no longer caring about the rough upholstery or the rumbling in her stomach. Things weren’t great but for the rest of that night, they’d be okay. They were warm and safe and their ship had a full tank of gas. They were a little hungry and a little dirty and very tired but for the next eight hours, they would be just fine.

She slept hard that night. She didn’t dream. She didn’t even move until Moonbyul was crouching beside the couch, gently jostling her arm.

“Unnie, wake up,” she whispered cutely and Elly whined.

“Go away, Byul,” she mumbled.

“I’m going to go wrangle us up some breakfast,” Moonbyul said, rising to her feet. She leaned over the couch, playing with Elly’s hair.

“God, you’re so affectionate in the morning,” Elly groaned, slapping her hands away. “I had a cat like you when I was a kid.”

“What do you want for breakfast?” Moonbyul pestered, poking Elly’s arms. With a grunt, Elly forced herself up so that she was sitting. Sunny was on the bed, laying on her stomach, swinging her feet as she swiped at the tablet.

“What time is it?” Elly asked.

“Nine-thirty,” Moonbyul said. “Elly, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Seaweed soup,” Elly said. “Maybe some nice fish and a little rice.”

Moonbyul snorted as she slipped into her jacket.

“Feeling a little homesick?” she teased

“Just my taste buds,” Elly said groggily. “Where are you going exactly?”

Shrugging, Moonbyul said, “I’m just going to walk around until I find the best deal. We don’t have much to play with. I’m sure I can find enough for all three of us for under twenty bucks.”

Sunny’s resounding laugh, an upbeat squeal, was much too loud for the early hour.

“You’re not going to find that deal on Geum Haneul,” she said, grinning. “You may need to try another rock. Isn’t there a dwarf planet just north of here? They probably have some cheap Korean barbeque.”

Moonbyul retrieved the cash-card from the TV stand, a sarcastic smile ghosting her lips.

“I’m just looking for some eggs, Sunny. I’m not trying to be Berm food.”

Elly yawned.

They hadn’t run into any Berm in a while and that was a rare of luck.

As far as alien species went, the Berm were easy to manage. They didn’t look anything like the aliens that old school science fiction portrayed but they were kind of creepy. Green, scaly and taller than humans, Berm could be frightening. But they were, for the most part, peaceful creatures. They were territorial and they were fiercely strong but the chances of a human being killed by a Berm were statistically very, very low.

The biggest problem had always been communication.

The Berm communicated on a frequency much too high for humans to hear – something near 100,000 hertz. For the longest time, the Berm and the space-dwellers fought tooth and nail. They fought over land, fought because they were different, fought because they were scared.

But a billionaire software tycoon named Matheos Grim came to the rescue. Not only did he invent a piece of equipment that could convert and translate the frequencies between humans and Berm but he hired a dream team of scientists, historians and linguists to get together and figure out what exactly the Berm were trying to say.

It took twenty-eight years but the Device in Extraterrestrial Communication and Translation was born and nothing was ever the same in the ‘verse. Everybody called it the DIECAT. It was a little pricey (meaning the Pandora girls didn’t have one) but they were built to last. Anyone who’d ever bought one said that it was worth every cent. If you found yourself alone on a planet inhabited by Berm, it was helpful to have a little device that could tell them you came in peace.

“If you can’t find three meals for cheap enough,” Elly said, “we’ll share two.”

Moonbyul ignored her.

“I’ll be back,” she said.

“Be safe,” Sunny reminded.

As soon as she was gone, and as soon as Sunny got distracted by a movie about a space smuggler who fell in love with a ‘verse sheriff, Elly got back on the tablet. With a fresh eyes and a clear head, she wanted to revisit the list of possible jobs she’d made the night before.

At two in the morning, she had thirty-one potential jobs on the list. Eight hours later, she narrowed it down to twelve – five transport jobs, three deliveries, three requests for specimen samples and one smuggling job that Elly really didn’t want to take but paid really well.

She saved all twelve to a separate window and locked the tablet, putting it on the table to wait for Moonbyul’s return. When they sat down for breakfast, they’d discuss where to go next. Elly was in charge but big decisions were always made by the group. They would work it out together and make the best decision possible for the team, whatever that meant. They’d never, ever take a job unless all three of them were in agreement and this would be no exception.

Hell, if Sunny and Moonbyul thought that the smuggling job was the way to go, Elly would sign on.

But they had to do it together.

On the bed, Sunny laughed. She’d found something in the movie so funny that she flipped over onto her back and giggled at the ceiling. Even over the chortles, Elly could hear her stomach growling. She could see Sunny’s sweatshirt on the chair, the same purple hoodie she’d been wearing for two years. By the door, she saw Moonbyul’s sneakers, worn so badly that her toes poked through the top.

.

, , .

everything. She was going to have to sell her father’s watch.

She would hate herself forever if she did but she’d hate herself even more if she didn’t. Any of those twelve jobs would require supplies – food, fuel, water, new clothes, possibly weapons, maybe a ing DIECAT if they had to go someplace weird – and they just couldn’t afford it.

And Elly felt terrible.

She didn’t have a choice.

She reached for the tablet and punched in the lock-code, swallowing the lump in . Though it pained her so deeply that she felt it in her teeth, she began typing the web address that would take her to the ‘Verse Trading Station website. There, she would make the post and she would sell the thing that meant the most to her in the galaxy.

And she would do it for her girls.

She’d do anything for her girls, even if it hurt.

But she’d only managed to type six letters before the door to the motel room flew open and bounced off the wall, breaking the relative quiet so abruptly that Sunny jumped off the bed. Moonbyul dove in the room, stumbled over feet and caught herself on the wall right before she lost her balance.

“Christ, Byul, what’s wrong with you?” Sunny asked, her hand over her heart. She looked Moonbyul up and down, noticed her empty hands, and frowned. “Hey, where’s the grub?”

“I have something better than grub,” she said, hurdling one of the chairs to get near the couch. “Unnie, give me the tablet.” Quickly swiping away from the trading site because she was embarrassed and didn’t want Moonbyul to see, Elly handed it over, staring back at her in confusion.

“Something the matter?” Elly asked, watching as her normally level-headed best friend typed frantically. “Byul, you’re going to break the glass.”

“I really wanted eggs,” Sunny whined, moving to get closer. “Where’s the food?”

“Unnie!” Moonbyul warned. “I love you but hush.”

“Moonbyul, will you please use your words?” Elly asked. “What’s up?” A few more swipes and Moonbyul forced the tablet back into the hands of their leader. “Read.”

“Read what?”

“The government posted a listing this morning,” she said. “They displayed it one on of the scanner-boards outside of the hotel.”

“A government job?” Elly questioned.

“Just read it, Elly! Goddamn!”

With an annoyed huff, Elly looked down, her eyes locking onto the bold, block-lettering of the listing’s title. It wasn’t very long but it was enough to make her heart stop dead in her chest. She swallowed a few times, suddenly dry, and Sunny must’ve noticed the change in her demeanor because she asked, “Elly, what’s it say?”

“It says that a dangerous criminal named Kwon Jiyong escaped from the super-max prison on Keun Gamog,” she said slowly.

“So?”

Moonbyul’s eyes were sparkling, her lips pressed into a thin, firm line. She’d read the listing and so she already knew.

Elly read it three more times just to make sure she’d understood it correctly, just to make sure she was seeing the right words.

She looked up at her friends, her dark eyes full of something that looked a lot like hope.

“It says that they’ll pay one-hundred million dollars to anyone who can find him and bring him back.”