Cold Falling White

by G. S. Prendergast

  And Topher. Just forget about Topher. Pretend I have closure too, that I saw him die, that I buried him with Tucker or left him behind on the plateau with Raven. I could move in with Raven’s parents and be far away from the Nahx territory and the border web. Maybe they’ll let us keep the low ground and coastal areas. Maybe the treaty is solid; maybe they’ll stick to it. I could go back to school and try to be a normal kid again.

  I have to admit, it’s tempting. But as soon as I start to picture it, doubt enters my thoughts. I can never be a normal kid again. I’ve gotten too used to holding a rifle. Since Garvin recruited me, I’ve easily slipped back into that role; maybe not quite as a soldier, much less an insurgent, but as someone involved, at least. Those lucky ones who ended up in coastal areas must find it so easy to surrender everything, not just the territory the world gave up but also the people who got left behind and our ownership of our planet. A comfortable bed, adequate food? Is that what it takes to sell out to the new world order?

  I’m actually a little disappointed with Jack. But maybe that’s unfair, because I’m not fully committed to turning him down either.

  Jack, I write.

  I don’t know what to say. Your offer is incredibly generous, and if you could see the way people live up here, you would know what it will mean for me. I’ll wait for the travel papers to arrive, I guess. And see you in December. In the meantime, give Raven’s mom a big hug from me. She was always so nice to Raven’s karate friends, even though we must have been annoying. You should know that Raven spoke about you guys literally every day. She loved you both so much.

  See you soon,

  Xander

  It’s snowing when I leave the hospital, and along the walk back to the park where I agreed to meet Garvin, a lot of the dystopian decay is covered in a blanket of soft white, making the world pretty again, if only until reality encroaches. I can’t miss the lineups for fuel and firewood. It’s hard not to think that some of these people won’t survive the winter. But then, maybe I won’t either.

  Garvin waves at me from the sidewalk where he’s standing next to a stack of boxes. He loads me up with as much as I can carry before leading me into the park.

  “Where’s the truck?” I ask.

  “I traded it.”

  “You traded the truck?”

  He just looks at me with one of those inscrutable Garvin smiles as we turn off the path. We follow a trail of footprints in the snow for a few minutes, before ducking through a dense grove of young trees to an open field on the other side.

  There’s a helicopter parked there. A heavyset guy in winter camouflage is bent over the engine as we approach.

  “How does she look?”

  “Top-notch,” the heavyset guy says. Garvin introduces him as Brad.

  “Formerly of Cascade Heli-ski,” he adds.

  “Not much call for heli-skiing tours anymore,” Brad says.

  “Welcome Brad to the resistance, Xander,” Garvin says as we board and buckle up.

  I mumble something that I’m sure he doesn’t hear, because he’s powering up the rotors. No one offers me a headset, so I watch from the back seat as Garvin and Brad talk about something I’m apparently not supposed to hear. The journey takes only a bit over an hour, flying low over land made featureless by new snow.

  Garvin’s whole crew greets us on the airstrip as Brad brings the helicopter down. The mood is jubilant, with everyone greeting Brad and high-fiving Garvin as the rotors slow to a stop.

  “Why are we all so excited?” I manage to ask Garvin as we trail back into the dining hall.

  “We’ve been looking for a chopper for a while. And a pilot, of course.”

  “Where will you get fuel for it?”

  “There’s a full tank right here at the airstrip. Plus we boosted a tanker months ago. Good for a few dozen flights.”

  “Flights to where?”

  I don’t get an answer because a new wave of celebration greets us in the dining hall. It turns out that one of the boxes I schlepped across the park is a case of home brew, so soon a party is in full force. No one asks me how Dylan is doing—not even Garvin. I help myself to a beer and linger at the edges of the dining hall while Garvin and his minions seem to be congratulating one another. As the first case of beer is drunk and a second one opened, Garvin takes position at the front of the hall. The boys fall into a respectful silence, which Garvin leaves open for a moment, heightening the tension and the sense of excitement in the room.

  “We’re at a crossroads, boys,” he begins. “The supporters of the treaty might see elevation as the defining feature of the surrendered territory, but we disagree, don’t we?”

  “Hell yeah!” someone says. The rest of the guys shout their agreement.

  “And I think the Nahx view the web as the border. But our search on this side continues because we have a right to eradicate Nahx from human territory. The chopper extends our reach immeasurably. We can get to places we’ve long suspected to be Nahx hiding places. And what is our policy on killing Nahx?”

  “KILL WHEN NECESSARY!” two dudes behind me shout in unison. I’m getting the feeling Garvin has given this speech before, or something like it.

  “And it is always necessary to kill Nahx. They don’t surrender. Do we surrender?”

  “NO!” the whole room shouts it.

  I can feel the bristle of energy as Garvin speaks, his voice firm and resonant. “We are not ignorant to the odds against us. We are not oblivious to the strength of the Nahx defense nor to their stranglehold on our planet, our governments, and our resources. But do we give up?”

  “NO!” I shout along with everyone else this time, caught up in the moment.

  “Do we lose hope?”

  “NEVER!”

  “Do we despair?

  “DESPAIR IS DEATH!” Garvin’s followers shout in unison.

  The room erupts, everyone, arms around one another, jumping and chanting and toasting the air with their low-grade homemade beer. I jump and shout too, because the last thing I want anyone here to know is how scared I am.

  And how I think I might betray them all.

  RAVEN

  We sent Blue off with a detailed description of August. After a lot of bobbing up and down, and guessing on my part, we confirmed that Blue knew who Tucker was. They’d been in the cell with us and followed when the Fifth dragged me off.

  “And Tenth,” I added as Blue prepared to zip away. “You remember Tenth. Try to find any or all of them,” I instructed. “Bring them back here. Don’t make a scene.”

  It was an hour before Mandy was even able to speak to me without making a face. I don’t know which part of my story horrified her more. It’s not lost on either of us that August very well could have been the same Nahx who darted her back in Calgary. Unbelievably, I never thought to ask him.

  Blue comes back near the end of the next day, with Tenth trailing behind them. A group of nearby Nahx scatter and stride away at the sight of Blue, who follows them menacingly until they disappear into the crowd of Snowflakes.

  You want to get inside? How? Tenth signs. He stands casually about ten feet away, not looking at us, pretending he’s monitoring the crowd for any troublemakers.

  If we break the rules? You could take us? I sign when he glances back at me.

  He flicks his head back and nods.

  “What are you saying?” Mandy whispers.

  “Just go along with me. Do you remember the self-defense stuff Topher and I taught at the base?”

  “Yes. Of course. To me it was less than two weeks ago, remember?”

  “Right. Good. Well…” I grab her by the front of the coat, tugging her to the edge of the crowd. Before she can voice a protest, I shove her down onto the ice and snow. A couple of Snowflakes step out of the way as I leap down on top of her. She does exactly what I taught, going for my face and my throat as I fake punch and pull her hair. She even gets a thumb jammed nice and hard into my armpit, which tickles more than hurts but weak
ens me enough for her to shove me off. Then we’re rolling in the snow, pathetically scrabbling at each other. It’s the untidiest fight I think I’ve ever been in, but it does the trick. Less than thirty seconds after we start I feel the strong grip of a Nahx on the back of my neck. I struggle and squeal for effect, twisting enough to see that Tenth has Mandy gripped in his other hand as he drags us past the line of Nahx guards and along the high walls toward the nearest door. I turn my head to see Blue sailing along behind us.

  Minutes later we’re inside a dim cargo bay, Blue leading Tenth as he drags us across the hard steel floor. Other Nahx turn in our direction as Tenth tugs us up onto a platform, mashing us together and straddling us as he somehow manages to get shackles on our wrists. When he stands, Mandy and I are bound together, facing each other, wrists to wrists. Tenth presses some kind of control and the platform begins to descend. There’s a second of darkness as the hatch closes above us, and then a dim yellow light activates. Tenth is looking down at us, his hands on his hips.

  “I’m going to have trouble signing like this,” I say, rattling the shackles.

  No problem, he signs, flicking his head backward. I can hear. But he clicks the shackles open and tucks them away.

  “What’s the plan?” Mandy asks.

  Find Eighth, he signs, which causes my heart to thump against my ribs.

  “You think he’s here?”

  Tenth shrugs. If Eighth is on the ship, he would be here. I translate for Mandy.

  “What about Tucker?” she asks.

  “One thing at a time. Don’t look at me like that.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “No, but you thought it. If August is here, if he’s… functional, he will make getting off the ship a lot easier. He’ll make finding Tucker easier. Tenth, do you know where Tucker is?”

  He shakes his head, stepping back as Blue zips between us. They flicker excitedly.

  There’s a loud groan of metal on metal and the platform rumbles to a stop. A heavy gray door hisses open, revealing endless inky darkness. In the weak light oozing out from the platform shaft I can make out some shadowy shapes, motionless at the edges of my perception.

  Nahx.

  Hundreds, thousands of Nahx standing motionless in messy rows, extending as far as the light reaches into the dark.

  Blue floats out and the rest of us step off the platform, following them. It is as though we have stepped into the underworld version of the arena on the surface. The Nahx are lined up, roughly organized into groups and formations, but those formations are broken. Some Nahx are kneeling, staring at the floor. A few are totally prone, lying as though dead. The rest stand, practically motionless.

  And the sound, the characteristic buzzing of their breathing as we pass, some of it wheezing and labored like Tenth’s, some of it gentle like sleepy bees, more of it weak and intermittent. Some of them don’t seem to be breathing at all.

  Two very tall Nahx turn their heads to us as we pass, but Blue drifts up and they step back deferentially.

  “What’s wrong with them?” I whisper.

  Broken, Tenth signs. If Eighth helped humans, Eighth is broken. Eighth could be here.

  I turn away. If August is here… is he one of the silent ones, the ones lying dead on the floor?

  “AUGUST!” I yell it impulsively and listen as my voice echoes, rolling over what seems like a great distance. How large is this… place, this holding pen? I remember something the First said in the cell after Tucker killed one of his guards.

  Take her down to cold storage…

  It is cold in here, though I barely notice cold anymore. Some of the Nahx radiate heat, as August used to. But some, as we pass them, I can see are crusted with ice, like something left in the freezer too long.

  “Are they dead?” I whisper to Tenth. “Are some of them dead?”

  I think so, he says. Blue bobs up and down in agreement.

  I swallow, but the lump in my throat remains.

  “AUGUST!” I yell again. “IT’S ME! IT’S RAVEN!”

  “Is that wise?” Mandy says. Some of the Nahx around us begin to stir. Tenth steers us away, down another row and across until we are out of sight. But as the murmur of movement seems to follow us, Tenth runs, pulling us along, his boots clanking on the steel floor. There are thousands and thousands of Nahx in here. How would I ever find August?

  Before I can think more on that question, a wailing alarm begins to sound. I don’t want to leave yet. I know it will take days, but I want to search for August in here. I feel like I owe it to him.

  The sleeping Nahx around us ripple as though brought to life by our trespass on their slumber.

  “We should move,” Mandy says. “Blue, which way?”

  Blue sails off and we hurry after them, Tenth’s metallic footsteps echoing behind us. As we push through denser formations, some of the Nahx reach for us, listlessly at first, but then with more determination. One of them gets Mandy by the neck and shoves her down. Several others surge at her.

  “Mandy!”

  Blue shoots into the fray, and the Nahx scatter backward as though thrown by the force of an explosion. Some of them put their hands on the backs of their heads as they recoil and crawl away.

  Tenth helps Mandy to her feet. There’s a streak of silver blood dripping out one nostril, but apart from that she is uninjured.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she says.

  Blue bobs up and down. We stick close to them as we continue through the seemingly endless chamber. Blue and Tenth manage to stave off any further harassment, though I can tell the Nahx are agitated by our presence.

  At last we reach a kind of doorway, though one blocked by some kind of glowing force field. I reach forward and touch it experimentally, only to have my arm jerk back from an electric shock.

  “Can we disable it?” Mandy asks.

  Tenth clicks on one of his shoulder lights and examines the control panel, but Blue just kind of dashes at him, making him stumble backward as they fly right into the panel, disappearing.

  “Blue?”

  Seconds later the force field dissolves.

  We waste no time stepping through into the dark passageway beyond. As I turn back, I see some of the Nahx are moving again, advancing on the open doorway.

  “Blue? Now might be a good time to reactivate the field.”

  One of the Nahx reaches through the doorway just as the field crackles to life. The Nahx goes flying back, spiderwebs of electricity lighting up its armor as it lands in a heap. The other Nahx seem to lose interest immediately, turning away to trail back into the dark.

  “Everybody have all their limbs?” Mandy says.

  Tenth turns, arcing his light down the long passageway.

  “Did Blue come out?” I search for them. “Tenth, turn your light off so I can see.”

  He obeys; darkness falls around us like a blanket.

  “Blue?”

  Nothing but a small amount of flickering light from the force field.

  “Blue, where are you?”

  A minute goes past, steeped in my silent dread that Blue has sacrificed their life for us. But just when it looks like it might be safest to carry on without them, I notice a dim flare far down the passage.

  “Blue? Is that you?”

  They bob up and down.

  We tiptoe to join them, trailing our hands along the wall to find our way in the dark.

  “How did you get all the way along here?” I ask.

  Blue draws a circle in the air, which isn’t very reassuring.

  “Do you know where we’re going?”

  A little too much time passes before Blue bobs up and down again. Tenth turns one light back on as Blue leads us along the narrow passage. The vague shapes of doors are occasionally visible but Blue ignores them, picking up speed until we’re jogging to keep up. At last we come to a T junction, opening onto another dark passageway, this one not as narrow. Tenth shines his light down either way, where the passage se
ems to disappear around a curve.

  “Which way?” I ask.

  Blue drifts up around the ceiling, bouncing along as though searching for something. After a few seconds their light flares and they spin in a frantic circle.

  “What’s up there?” Mandy asks. “Tenth, can you reach?”

  Tenth reaches up, turning so his light illuminates what looks like a manual release lever. With Blue demonstrating, Tenth turns the lever to the left until something somewhere makes a low, deep clang, like an atonal church bell.

  The wall in front of us begins to move—first a thin sliver of light cracking where it meets the ceiling, then slowly descending, grinding metal on metal as it goes. Instinctively we all creep back into the corridor, pressing against the wall, ready to fight whoever awaits, but there’s no need.

  There’s no one beyond the wall. No one alive, at least.

  In front of us, spreading the length of the wide passageway, bodies are suspended on some kind of framework or machinery, hanging like carcasses in a butcher’s freezer. They appear to be joined to tubing via their ears, noses, mouths, and even genitals. A glowing gray sludge is moving slowly through the tubes.

  “Oh my God…” Mandy says.

  Horrifyingly, the bodies closest to us have been butchered, sliced crossways at their ankles, calves, knees, and upward until they resemble a block toy waiting to be put back together. But as I gingerly step closer I realize the reality is even more gruesome. The nearest body, a young male probably no older than Mandy, has been separated, the slices of his body divided into two sets, each one 50 percent of the boy he was. Down the row, either way along the corridor, we can see that other boys have met the same fate, or are about to. Some seem to be further into the process than others. In some the gaps between the slices are narrower. In others they seem to be joined together by a kind of matrix of light, over which globules of flesh and tissue are growing. Behind the first row, disappearing into the distance, are other rows, one after the other. Hundreds, maybe thousands of bodies.

  “Okay,” Mandy says shakily. “I see what they’re doing here.”