SHARD: Book One of The Shard Trilogy (A YA Sci-fi Teens with Powers Series)

by A. M. Pierre

  They dropped.

  The air disappeared like a fan had been switched off, and the ground rushed up to meet her from ten feet away. She rolled as she hit, felt branches scratch her arms and whip her face. Then a sharp pain stabbed through her left wrist, before she slammed to a stop against a rather large rock.

  Kaia propped herself up with her good wrist and turned to see Connor, who had ended up about twenty feet away from her. He stood up slowly, like he was having problems balancing. She was about to ask him what had happened, but then he turned towards her and no words would come out.

  He had pulled off his helmet and his goggles. His dark blonde hair was slick and dirty with sweat. The area in his right eye that was supposed to be white was a solid bright red. Blood streamed from his nose and puddled into the folds on his jumpsuit. More blood ran from his lip. He must have bit it on impact.

  Connor weaved slightly as he walked up to her, but he was smiling. It was an expression unlike any she’d seen on him before—proud and profoundly relieved at the same time. “You’re alive,” he said, still smiling. “Good.”

  Then his eyes rolled back up into his head, and he collapsed at her feet.

  “CONNOR!”

  Kaia didn’t know what to do, how to help, but she had to do something. Check his breath? Still breathing. Check his pulse? Still pulsing. Check . . . what else was she supposed to check?! She knew something about nosebleeds . . . don’t lie the person on their back!

  She wasn’t sure she could keep him sitting up, so she rolled Connor onto his side, propped him against the large rock she’d rolled into when she’d landed, and made sure his face pointed toward the ground. Her left wrist throbbed with the effort, but she barely registered it. The only thing that got through was that Connor was still bleeding.

  Kaia quickly slid out of her skydiving jumpsuit and pulled a small first aid pack out of the cargo pants she wore underneath. She was pretty sure you were supposed to put pressure on a nose bleed, so she pinched his nose shut with her injured hand while she awkwardly cleaned the wound on his lip with some antiseptic wipes and gauze pads. She had no idea what she could do for his eye. It grossed her out just thinking about it, to be honest.

  You’re grossed out? For all you know, he might be blind in that eye now—all because he saved your life—and you’re grossed out. Unbelievable.

  Kaia really wished her conscience would pick better times to beat her up. I’m doing the best I can, all right? You think I don’t know what he did for me?

  The late evening sun was fading into twilight. It would be dark soon, and she didn’t want him lying out here in the open all night. For that matter, she didn’t want to be out here, either. Until that moment, she hadn’t really paid attention to their surroundings, but now she took the time. They had landed at the very edge of a field, the earth plowed for crops but with nothing growing at the moment. A little less than a hundred yards to their left, a small building—old, rotting, probably once used for storing farming supplies—looked to be their best hope of shelter. But how was she supposed to get him there?

  She tried to go through it logically. (1) He can’t move himself. (2) I can’t carry him. (3) I might be able to drag him if he was lying on something—but what?

  Kaia had seen in movies where people made little sled-like things with a couple of strong sticks and a cloth sling stretched between them. Problem was, she didn’t know what she could use for a sling or how she’d attach it to the sticks—or where she would even find two perfectly straight strong sticks of equal length. Then again, even if she found everything she needed, she would need two good hands to hold the two sticks, and the pain in her wrist (which was finally getting her attention) didn’t look like it would be going away anytime soon. No, she decided, the movies and their perfect sticks and stretchers were not going to be much help.

  What she really needed was a big piece of cloth, preferably slick or shiny, so she could drag him over to the rotted shack. Oh, like, say, a parachute? Too bad Connor cut all of them away when he saved . . . wait a minute.

  Kaia checked on Connor before taking her hand away. It looked like his nose had stopped bleeding (good), and he was still breathing, too (better). The more important things done, she searched her gear. It was still there—the reserve chute she’d been unable to release, all packed away and pristine. She took it out, cut away any unnecessary lines, and unrolled it as flat as she could on the ground. It looked to be about 10 feet wide and maybe 20 long. She smiled faintly. Yeah, that ought to be big enough. Now all I have to do is roll Connor onto it, then drag him the hundred yards to the shed. Piece of cake.

  If it’s a cake that weighs 25 tons, maybe. Kaia stopped for the fifth or sixth time to catch her breath. The tilled ground wasn’t exactly rough, but she hadn’t realized how hard it would be to drag a dead weight (that weighed more than she did) the length of a football field with only one good hand.

  It had been dark for a while, but she didn’t dare use any of the lights Dice had packed—what if there were any houses or roads nearby she’d missed? Fortunately, there was enough moonlight for her to make out the shed, but that also meant she could see exactly how short of a distance she’d traveled and how much farther she had to go. Don’t think about it. Keep moving, and you’ll get there. Eventually.

  She took a few extra-deep breaths to psych herself up, then, for the sixth (or seventh?) time, she wrapped the end of the parachute around her right arm, braced her feet, and pulled.

  The old farmer’s shed was bigger than she’d thought—the parachute could easily lay out flat on its floor—but it looked like no one had used it in years. The wind whistled through the gaps in the walls, and she could see the moon through a missing plank in the roof. A missing plank that obviously let in the rain, too, judging by the state of the dirt floor.

  Connor was still unconscious, and he hadn’t made so much as a grunt or a moan since he’d collapsed. Kaia tried not to focus too much on that but on setting up their camp instead. She left him where he lay on the far end of the parachute and flattened out the other end (the end she’d been hanging onto as she pulled him) to be a bed for her. Not that the chute would provide them any cushioning, but it would keep them off the damp, muddy floor.

  The “in case of emergency” gear Dice had packed was, by necessity, lighter than on her last mission, but she still found a few familiar goodies she could use—a couple of inflatable pillows and two of those super-thin metallic blankets that reminded her of aluminum foil. She set Connor up with a pillow and tucked one of the blankets around him.

  Kaia didn’t know what else she could do. There probably was something, something obvious and incredibly helpful that would immediately make him 100% better, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of anything, helpful or not. She knew she should probably eat something, but with the way her stomach was churning she was afraid whatever she ate would come right back up. She double-checked that she’d set the alarm on her watch properly, then lay down to try and get a few hours of sleep.

  “Don’t . . .”

  Someone’s talking. Someone’s here.

  “Please don’t . . . Don’t leave me.”

  Wait, where’s “here”? Kaia rubbed her eyes and tried to get her bearings. It was cold. Her bed was hard as a brick. And she was covered in Reynold’s Wrap. What on earth . . . ?

  “NO!”

  Connor’s voice jolted her awake enough that she remembered where she was. Wait, Connor’s voice? “Connor? Are you awake?”

  “Why would you . . . your son . . . I never . . . why?”

  “Connor?” She crawled towards his end of the chute. “Connor, can you hear me?”

  “All that time . . . I wrote . . . you were already . . . already . . .”

  She heard another noise, too—a kind of clicking sound. As she sat alongside him, she saw what it was. His teeth were chattering, and spasms a
nd tremors shook his body. She lay her hand on his forehead. “Aw, jeez, you’re burning up.” Her stomach was flipping again. She could probably find some medicine for fevers in the first aid kit, but she had one major problem: how to get someone who was completely out of it to swallow pills. Knowing me, I’d probably end up making him choke to death. “What am I supposed to do? Keep you warm? Cool you down?” She couldn’t think. Seeing him lying there, looking so helpless—it was too much. She closed her eyes, hoping it would help her focus, but she could still hear the nylon material of the parachute rustling as he jerked back and forth.

  Connor grabbed her hand and she gasped, her eyes flying open. He looked right at her, but past her somehow. When he spoke, she knew she just happened to be in the way of his delirious conversation with his imaginary friend, but it still shot right through her. “Please,” he managed through his chattering teeth, “please don’t leave me again.”

  It wasn’t Kaia’s stomach that was hurting anymore—it was a bit higher up than that. “I promise,” she said, her throat tight, “I promise I’m not going to leave you.” She got her own blanket and pillow from the other end of the shed. “I don’t know the first thing about medicine, or a lot of things for that matter, but I do know I can’t stand to see you like this.” She knew he wasn’t registering a thing she said, but somehow it felt better to say it out loud. “It might not help the fever itself, but maybe if you’re warmer your body will stop trying to shake you to pieces.” She rolled him onto his side and lay down behind him, stacking both of the blankets over the two of them before wrapping her arms around him like she was trying to surprise him with a big bear hug. “I sure hope this works, ’cuz I’m seriously running low on ideas.”

  The seconds stretched into minutes. Please, Connor. Tears built up in her eyes and threatened to break free. I need you to be okay. Please—

  The violent shivering began to subside. Kaia felt his face—it was still hot, but he seemed a little more comfortable without the constant shaking. She sighed, and the pain in her heart subsided a little, too. “At least it’s a start,” she murmured as she drifted off to sleep again.

  “What was the problem this time, Kaia?”

  “. . .”

  “You have to talk to me. I thought Mr. and Mrs. Liu would be a perfect match. Just a few months ago, they were telling me how excited they were to be going to your first violin recital.”

  “. . .”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of this. No matter who you live with, it always ends the same way. Each time you claim you didn’t do anything, but now it’s happened yet again, and with a couple who had been so openly talking about adoption. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “. . .”

  “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, there’s nothing I can do to force you. There’s also nothing I can do to help you. At the end of the day, I’m not the one who has to deal with the consequences of your actions—you are. And if you don’t straighten up soon, I don’t see any family wanting to take you in for very long.”

  “Kaia.”

  You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.

  “Kaia, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

  All you know is what other people tell you. And they’re lying. I don’t know why, but they’re lying. Not that I’m surprised you don’t believe me. No one ever does.

  “Kaia!”

  Kaia blinked, slowly refocusing. Connor smiled down at her. “Good morning, gorgeous. Sleep well?”

  “What are you . . . ?” The cobwebs cleared, and the memory of last night’s events came rushing back. She looked around. Connor was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and she had somehow gotten herself curled into a ball and snuggled up right next to him. She gave out an involuntary and slightly embarrassed little yelp and quickly stood up.

  Connor definitely looked better. He was pale, there were traces of dried blood on his face, and his eye was still red, but he definitely looked better. Which, of course, said more than a little about how terrible a night it had been. She caught him smiling at her. It irritated her for some reason. “What are you grinning at?” she said.

  “Well, it’s like the old saying goes, if you’re going to wake up in a freezing, damp, decaying barn in the middle of nowhere with a splitting headache and the smell of manure assaulting your nose, at least make sure you’re waking up next to a pretty face.”

  Kaia scowled and blushed simultaneously. “Who could possibly have said that?”

  “It’s a terribly old saying, so I’m not really sure, but they were remarkably astute, weren’t they?” His grin got bigger.

  She headed to the other end of the shed where she’d left their packs. She searched through their remaining supplies while carefully avoiding eye contact with the oddly frustrating boy sitting a few feet away. She cleared her throat. “How’s your eye?”

  “My eye?” Connor sounded confused. “What’s wrong with my eye?”

  “It’s all . . . red and stuff. I got your nosebleed to stop, but I didn’t know what to do for your eye.”

  “Well, it may look terrible, but it feels okay . . . Thanks for looking after me.”

  Kaia searched through the bags with even more energy than before. “No problem. I’m going to make breakfast. Do you want some?”

  “Oooh, so now you’re cooking for me, too?”

  Kaia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Forget I offered.”

  “Come on, I was teasing. What are you so upset about? That it was your favorite irritant who saved your life?”

  “What? No.”

  “That your life was saved, period? It can be annoying, I know. There was this one time in India, a guy pulled me out of the way of a speeding bus. Can you believe the nerve? I immediately punched him in the face.” Kaia could hear barely restrained laughter in his voice.

  Her forehead furrowed into a frown. “That’s not it.”

  “Then what are you upset about?”

  She finally turned to look at him. “I’m not upset.”

  Connor raised one eyebrow. “Clearly.”

  “It’s . . .” Kaia looked up at the ceiling as if it would help her better put it into words. “It’s just that you were bleeding and not talking, so I was worried, really worr . . . And you were hot—with a fever, not . . . never mind. And I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to warm you up, but I was still scared, and then I wake up and you’re letting me sleep leaning against you like that so you could make fun of me by calling me ‘gorgeous.’”

  Connor threw up his hands in mock surrender. “You caught me. You have uncovered my master plan. First, I did my best to rupture several major arteries trying to save your life. Then—while still lying in an unconscious stupor, mind you—I somehow managed to maneuver you into a sweet yet in-some-way-that-I-don’t-really-understand embarrassing curled-up pose so I could embarrass you yet again by telling you—quite honestly, by the way—that you’re pretty. I am rather the villainous mastermind, aren’t I?”

  After a solid five seconds of being unable to decide whether to get embarrassed or yell at him, she chose a third option and stomped towards the door.

  Connor grabbed her arm as she reached it. “Hold on a second, there,” he whispered, his lips nearly brushing her ear.

  Kaia stared straight ahead as her heart beat a little quicker. The way he said that, it’s almost like he’s about to say he likes . . . Like he would! No matter what he has to say, I really don’t care. Really. “What is it?” she whispered back.

  “Have you checked to see if anyone’s out there first before you step outside?”

  Her breath came out in a sharp snort of annoyance and (it couldn’t be) disappointment as she jerked her arm away and marched out the door. All right. So I care a little. She heard him call out behind her: “Oh, come on. What did I do now?”

  Connor walked as he’d
been walking for the past five minutes—silently and staring at Kaia’s back. He had convinced her to wait long enough for him to pack up their gear, but the instant he had returned everything to its proper place she marched off again. He decided to try and break the silence. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

  “No.”

  “At least eat something. I know you have to be starving.”

  “No.”

  Connor broke into a jog to get alongside her. Despite her legs being quite a bit shorter than his, she was a surprisingly fast walker, particularly when she was motivated by irritation. Like now, for instance.

  He had noticed something funny about her gait, though. As fast as she was walking, she wasn’t swinging her left arm. When he got up next to her, he saw she was holding it tight against her stomach. She must’ve hurt it when they landed. He cringed, feeling a bit guilty. “Even if you’re not going to eat, at least let me take a look at your arm. I know a few things about first aid. I might be able to make it feel better.”

  “No.”

  “Will you at least tell me what exactly it is I’ve done that has you spitting tacks?”

  “No.”

  “Wow. This is going to be a fun, fun day, isn’t it?”

  They walked along in silence for a few minutes more. Kaia inhaled sharply, and Connor’s ears perked up. “I did . . . I did want to ask you something,” she said.

  Finally! Maybe now they’d be getting somewhere. “What is it?”

  “Last night, when you were all fever-y and stuff, you were talking to someone.”

  Getting somewhere, yes, but Connor was pretty sure it wasn’t any place he wanted to go. “And, uh, what was I saying?”

  “You asked them not to leave. Something about writing, too.”

  Connor stared at a bird flying in the distance. “Funny how things work out, innit?

  “What do you mean?”