by Ramona Finn
I stiffened. “So what if I am? We need to warn Starkey, anyway. Warn all the other camps. They need to know about those weapons. Plus, with more Domes out there, that could be more sources of gretha. Folks you could trade with, without crawling to Lazrad. If we can save Lock while we’re at it—”
“I wasn’t saying we shouldn’t.” Ben’s hand dropped away. “Starkey took the kids up the mountain, where the buggies can’t reach. It’ll be a slog, but I’ll help you. We’ll carry him together.”
I sagged where I stood, limp with gratitude. Shame followed soon after. I’d been cold without meaning to, brushed him off in my panic. “Thank you,” I said. “How soon can we go?”
“Tonight.” Jetha stepped up, grim-faced. “I just need to organize parties to alert the other camps. Myla, you’re with me. You’ll brief our runners on everything you saw. Ben, you find a stretcher, and get Lock in the truck. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”
I wanted to go after Ben, tell him how sorry I was. How I’d thought of him every day, missed him to my marrow. But Jetha was beckoning, and I trotted after her. Lazrad was building an army, and Lock was dying. Everything else would have to wait.
The truck dropped us off where the foothills gave way to cliffs. Jetha called us to attention, me and Ben with our stretcher, then our retinue to the rear. We’d brought four armed guards and a lookout, just enough to watch our backs. Lock hadn’t opened his eyes since we’d left camp. He lay swaddled in blankets, moonlight silvering his goggles. Jetha glanced at him and frowned.
“Before we go, we need to be mindful,” she said. “Decemites have been sighted patrolling the foothills. We cannot draw their attention. The Nest’s full of families and children, so go by moonlight where you can, and keep your beams low where you can’t. Keep the chatter to a minimum till we pass the snow line. Do I make myself clear?”
A murmur of assent went through our ranks. Ben lifted his end of Lock’s stretcher, I took mine, and we began our climb. The track was narrow and steep, barely visible in the dark. Rock shifted beneath us, rattling pebbles into the void. We shuffled step by step, testing the ground as we went. Ben had found boots for me, but I’d have felt more stable without them, toes rooting in the dirt.
We passed a still mountain lake, just south of the snow line. Ben muttered something and startled me from my thoughts.
“What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” He took three steps and sighed, then he nodded across the lake. “See those piles of rocks sticking up from the water?”
“Yeah.”
“Those were a pier once. When the air was still sweet.” He stopped to let Jetha overtake us. “There was a cabin there, too, when we first found this place—what was left of one, anyway. We found this box under the floorboards, full of pictures, years old. You couldn’t see much, with the mold and the wet, but what you could see, just... Kids swimming. Kids fishing. You can’t do any of that now.”
A lump rose in my throat. Ben sounded sad, his voice thick with longing. I dragged my feet to let the procession outpace us.
“Tired?” Ben hitched up Lock’s stretcher. “We can rest if you need to. A few minutes won’t hurt.”
“It’s not that.” I cocked my head, listening. The mountain stood silent, the others out of earshot. “I wanted to talk to you,” I said. “Before, what you said, about your feelings not changing—”
“You don’t have to say it. It’s okay.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” I looked down at Lock, at the moonlight reflecting off his goggles. “I thought of you every day. I nearly ran back to you, my second day home. I missed you so much it hurt, not just in my head, but my stomach, my chest. It felt like a weight on me. Like a physical pain.”
Ben didn’t say anything, but I saw his shoulders tighten. My eyes felt hot, like I’d been staring into the sun.
“Sky wasn’t anything like I pictured,” I said. “I went up there for you. For you and for everyone. Ona. Lock. My parents. I thought I could find answers, some way we could all be safe. But it’s a whole other world. I was alone. Ona wouldn’t listen, and to the Lofties, I was—we were—we were like pictures in a museum, fun to look at a while, but you go home and forget them, and—”
“Lock was there for you. I get it.” Ben hugged the cliffside, rounding a curve. “Watch where you’re going. It gets icy up ahead.”
“He’s a good man,” I said. “A good friend. And he wouldn’t be in this state if I hadn’t dragged him into my fight.”
I heard Ben inhale, a long, ragged breath. “I guess I know what that’s like. If I could’ve been there for Derrick, saved Lita that pain...”
“I can’t let him die.” I steadied myself against the slide of ice underfoot. Lock’s breathing had quickened, coming in irregular bursts. I wanted to comfort him. It hurt that I couldn’t, that same crushing pain I’d felt in Ben’s absence. Guilt welled in my throat, bitter as bile. I hadn’t lied to Ben, not exactly, but Lock was more than a friend. We hadn’t kissed or gone courting, never given name to our feelings, but I felt safe when he held me, and I wanted him to feel the same.
“Where those trees are, up there, that’s the Nest.” Ben pointed up the slope, steadying Lock’s stretcher on his hip. I followed where he was pointing, but all I saw was snow and the black cliffs above. I kept walking anyway, one foot after the other. Lock was shivering through his blankets, and I urged Ben faster. Soon, the trees shadowed our path—thin, scraggly evergreens clinging to the cliffside. I caught a glimmer of purple between them, and then I saw Starkey, red-faced from the wind.
“You three are the last?”
“That’s right,” said Ben.
“Good. Get inside, then. Jasper’s waiting in back.”
We squeezed through a narrow pass, angling Lock’s stretcher to fit. A short flight of stairs led to a warm, firelit cave. A stream bubbled through it, separating a cluster of huts from the communal area. Most of the camp seemed to be sleeping, but an old woman waved to us from her spot by the fire. I smiled back at her, distracted, as Ben steered us past the huts.
“Through here.” We headed down a tight corridor, through a curtain of beads to a cramped chamber beyond. Three beds stood along one wall, and a folding desk along another, groaning under the tools of Jasper’s trade. The Carillon stood on a shelf, spilling soft music through the night. Ben glanced at it, surprised.
“You get a signal up here?”
“No. That’s a tape.” Jasper bustled over, focused on Lock. “Get him on the far bed, the one by the ventilator. And get that mask off him.”
We lowered Lock’s stretcher to the ground, and I lifted him onto the bed. His hand found mine as I peeled off his mask. He held on for a moment, cold fingers tangling with mine, then his body went lax.
“We made it,” I told him. “You can sleep now. Save your strength. Jasper won’t let anything happen to you.”
“He’s unconscious,” said Jasper. His lips twitched downward. “And you shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“You shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep.” He unbuttoned Lock’s shirt and put his stethoscope to his chest. I watched his face as he did it, but his expression didn’t change. “How long has he been like this?”
“Just today. Since this afternoon. But it was last night she deactivated him.”
Jasper nodded. “Any vomiting? Seizures?”
“He was sick at the caves,” said Ben. “But no seizures, that I’ve seen.”
I shifted from foot to foot, my patience wearing thin. “Can you help him? Reactivate his nanobots? Or what about yours, the ones you were—”
“Slow down.” Jasper produced a cotton swab and soaked it with alcohol. He brushed it over Lock’s hand, and Ben turned away as the IV went in. Jasper taped it in place and let out a hissing breath. “I can support him with electrolytes, antibiotics to fight infection. But his organs are failing. He doesn’t have long.”
“So that�
��s it?” My heart sank. “You’re just giving up?”
“I didn’t say that.” Jasper fetched a wet cloth and began to bathe Lock’s face. “I learned a lot from your sister. I’ve developed a new line of nanobots, and these ones actually work. They won’t last ten years, or anywhere close, but if I could get them into him, we’d buy him some time.”
“So what are you waiting for?” I grabbed for his cloth. “Quit wiping and get to it.”
“It’s not as simple as that.” Jasper’s whole body drooped. “It’s a physically traumatic experience, installing new nanobots. The activation is... violent, for want of a better term. The shock to the system is brutal. A healthy body can withstand it, but one as damaged as his—he’d need support we can’t give.”
“Like what?” I rocked forward where I stood, bubbling over with energy. “Whatever you need, just tell me, and I’ll find it.”
Jasper let out a deep sigh. “Refined gretha, and lots of it. Medical grade, not fuel grade. I’d need a day’s worth, maybe more. It’s hard to say. Nobody’s tried this before.”
I felt the wind go out of my sails. Gretha that pure took roomfuls of equipment—first the huge cyclone tanks to suck out the dust, then a trip through the distillers to separate the gretha from the atmosphere. Then, the electrical filters finished the job. I pressed my palms to my forehead. “I don’t suppose you’re hiding a refinery somewhere out here?”
Jasper snorted. “That’d be the day.”
“Jasper.” Starkey pushed through the curtain, Jetha in tow. He glanced at Lock, eyes narrowed. “He stable?”
“For now.”
“Good. Tell our guests what you’ve learned about those blasters.” He sat on the bed next to Lock’s, kneading absently at his scars. He’d lost weight, I saw, and his hair had thinned. He caught me staring and folded his arms across his chest.
“Lazrad’s new blasters, yes. Quite innovative. Quite deadly.” Jasper went to his worktable. He opened a drawer and retrieved a snub glass canister. “Their power comes from nanobots, quick-acting processors that can predict a target’s movements with a high degree of accuracy. These are dead, but—”
“Nanobots.” I eyed the canister in his hand. “I could sense them before, like a buzzing in my head. Do you think that’s their nanobots? Signaling to mine?”
“It’s possible.” Jasper frowned. “They can communicate with each other—they’re set up for that. You can mount them for automatic discharge, hooked to a motion sensor. One sights the target and tells the others where to fire. They can calculate the timing and the angle, even in fog or low light.” His expression turned grim. “Your sister’s bots didn’t have that feature, that ability to communicate, but yours are an older model. Could be that’s a discontinued function, repurposed for—well, for murder. To kill us faster.” His voice rose, thin with fury, and I thought he might dash the canister at his feet.
“You found Lazrad’s arsenal,” said Starkey. His gaze bored into me, pale and steady. “Describe what you saw. How large a force could she mount?”
“I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, trying to picture what I’d seen. “She had racks and racks of blasters, a whole wall of them, two floors high. She had drones, cannons—I don’t know what else. A lot was in crates, and we didn’t have time to look inside.”
Starkey’s lip curled. “All that has to go.”
Jetha nodded. “We need to buy time. Time to find those other Domes, time to win them to our side.” She turned to me. “It’s a lot to put on you, but we’ll need your help again. You know where Lazrad keeps her weapons. You’ll get us inside, and we can destroy them.”
I felt my chest tighten. I couldn’t leave Lock, not like this. He lay motionless, scarcely breathing, and for all his size, he looked small. His skin had taken on a yellow cast, and his fingertips were purple.
“You can’t help him,” said Starkey. “But you can help us survive.”
Jetha scowled at him, but when she spoke, my heart sank. “He’s right,” she said. “We’re running out of gretha and Lazrad’s shut down trade. Soon, we’ll go to the vents and find those guns waiting, hooked to their sensors, ready to mow us down. Finding a new Dome to trade with is our last, best hope. If those Domes fall to Lazrad, it’s lights out for us.”
“Lights out...” I went to Lock and cupped his cheek in my palm. This time, he didn’t respond. He was cold to the touch, a deep sort of cold that seemed to come from within. “I won’t give up on you,” I told him. “I’ll be back, so keep breathing. Keep telling yourself one more breath.”
I heard Starkey exhale behind me, and I turned to face him.
“Once we’re inside, I can lead you to the armory. But breaking back into Echelon won’t be so easy.”
“That’s where we come in,” said Starkey. “Come. Let your friend rest. The sooner we finish this, the sooner you’re back holding his hand.” He stood and headed for the curtain, Jetha at his side. I squeezed Lock’s hand one more time, so hard I felt his bones grind.
“I won’t come back empty-handed,” I said. “You need refined gretha, I know where to get it. Just hold on till then.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A coal-colored sky hung over Echelon as our truck ground to a halt. Starkey got out, then Jasper, then Ben. We were a small group, just the four of us, plus the guards who’d accompanied us up the mountain. Starkey surveyed us, tight-lipped.
“Almost nightfall,” he said. “We’ll move when it’s dark.”
Jasper turned with a shiver and watched the truck pull away. He tilted his head back and frowned. “Looks like rain.”
“Not this time of year,” said Ben. “Not till spring.”
I ignored them, fixing my eyes on the skyline. I could see Lazrad Corp, and the library behind it. I touched my phone and thought of Ona. I tried to picture what she’d be doing, but all that came to mind was the huge, empty Decemite house, and Ona by herself. I saw her in the window, looking out at the moon. Thinking of me maybe. Thinking I’d left her. Jasper touched my arm, and I nearly jumped.
“What?”
“I heard what you said, before. To Lock, I mean.” He licked his lips. “If you can get me that gretha, I’ll try to fix him up. If I make it out.”
“You will.” I watched the city lights twinkle, dull under the Dome. “I’ll carry you if I have to. You and the tanks.”
Jasper laughed, but it came out shaky. He was scared and trying to fight it, nibbling his lower lip. I looked him up and down.
“Is this your first time doing something like this?”
He laughed again, a thin, gusty sound. “It’s my first time in the exper. My first time seeing anything like...” He gestured at the city. “How do they build that high? I mean, I understand it in theory, but seeing it for myself, a Dome that large, towers like these—it’s quite overwhelming.”
“Don’t let it distract you,” said Ben. “The towers are impressive, but it’s the people we’ve got to worry about.”
“I—I think I might—” Jasper clawed his mask off his face and doubled behind a rock. I stood watching the lights, pretending not to hear him spew. Conversation died after that, and we settled in to wait for nightfall. Ben hunkered at my side, and I gravitated to his warmth, leaning close without meaning to. We crouched shoulder to shoulder as the last light faded from the sky. I could smell the explosives in my pack, a dull, oily smell that made my eyes sting.
“Time,” said Starkey. “Single file, behind me.”
I fell in behind Ben, and we struck out for the Dome. Jasper was murmuring behind me, pleading with no one in particular—let me see them again. Please. Let me live. Disturbed, I edged closer to Ben.
“Hey.”
He glanced back at me. “Hey, yourself.”
I tried to smile and found I couldn’t. “You think Jasper’ll be okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” said Ben. “He’s tougher than he looks.”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t hide my doubt. “Why’d h
e even come? Wouldn’t Jetha have been better, or—”
“Someone needed to hold the Nest.” Ben’s voice turned gruff. “It’s kids and old folks up there. If Starkey doesn’t come back, they’ll need someone in charge. As for Jasper, he’s here for his kid. That’s why he’ll be fine. He’s got someone to fight for.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I fell back in line, and we closed in on Echelon. Once, we saw headlights, and we all hit the dirt. A buggy trundled by us, a team of Decemites on patrol. Their wheels threw up sand, and it settled on our backs. We marched on, grubby, with sandflies down our collars. I edged up on Ben again and tapped him on the shoulder.
“How do you know it’s not a trap? Starkey’s contacts—who are they? How do you know they won’t—”
“I know.” Ben hung back to walk with me, eyes sharp behind his mask. “You saw the caves, right? And the camp before that?”
“Yeah.” I shuddered.
“What you saw, that was mercy. We’ve got a Decemite on our side, this girl Nina. She made sure Lita escaped, and most of the others. Made Lita shoot her, so her team wouldn’t suspect she was with us.” Ben touched his own side, wincing as he did. “Anyway, she sent a warning with Lita, so we fled the caves in time. All of us back there, we’d be dead without Nina. And she’s getting us in tonight, so you can relax.”
“Nina.” I cocked my head, groping after a memory. “That name sounds familiar.”
“A friend of Lock’s, maybe? They must’ve met.”
“No. That’s not it.” I closed my eyes and it came to me—Ona’s friend from Sky Station, the one with the blackened vest. “I met her,” I said. “She and Ona were close. But why would she—”
“Quiet,” said Starkey. “And keep to the wall.”
“Everyone has their reasons,” whispered Ben. “You, me, Reyland, Nina. We’ve all got someone we’re fighting for. Maybe she’s doing it for Ona.” He moved back into formation, and we jogged along the wall.
“Projector H,” said Jasper. “Through the maintenance shaft.”