“Are you following me?”
“Hardly.” She looks around at the trail toward the city and then back toward the camp. “In fact, it seems I was here first.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think the more important question is, are you sneaking off under the cover of darkness?” Her head tilts. “Well it would be a good question, except that you clearly are sneaking off, and not that well since I’ve found you.”
“I’m in no mood for banter. Go home.” I attempt to walk past her. I’ll give her time to get back, and then start the bike. The time for sneaking and quiet has passed. They were eventually going to know I’d gone, I simply didn’t expect it to be this soon. I’ll make sure they don’t catch me or find me before I find the other ship.
“You want me to toddle off home?” Her brows lift. “Where’s that exactly? Oh, you’re talking about some tent in the middle of nowhere that I’ve slept in for a few nights in a row. As far as I’m concerned, I have no home.”
I fold my arms. “Go back to your brother.”
“And sit there like a piece of furniture but half as useful? There’s nothing I can do for him. It’s driving me insane.”
I have to ignore the sympathy tugging at me from the raw pain in her voice. I can’t trust her with the truth or with my company. Not after nearly losing it with Charley. The woman might deserve my anger, but I wasn’t in control. “I mean it, Megs, I need to go alone.”
“Go where?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I open them, she’s still standing an arm’s reach away as tiny, spunky, and determined as ever. She’s waiting for my answer, but I can’t tell her the truth. She believes in Keane and Charley and what they’re doing against the Company. If I tell her that I think they’ve framed Kaih, and they’re keeping a whole other spaceship experiment secret, she won’t believe me. Then she’ll tell them. Or worse, she’ll believe me because she already knows and she’s in on it.
In the end, I don’t need to come up with a lie because she answers for me. “You’re going after Asher, aren’t you?”
“Why would I?”
“You weren’t happy about her going with Davyd from the beginning. Now days have passed and your new friend has been locked up for murder. It’s not surprising.”
“You know me so well, do you?”
One corner of her mouth kicks up. “Well enough to know you need me to go with you.”
“And what use would you be?”
“I can watch your back while we ride, and you can sob on my shoulder when you catch her and your brother making out.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. That’s the thing about Megs. She has a way of laughing at the world even as it screws everyone over.
“See?” she says. “You need me.”
“Maybe I do.” To admit as much is selfish, I know it, but I can’t try any harder to push her away. “The real question is, why do you want to come?”
“I’m tired.” For a change the teasing is gone from her voice. “Tired of watching and waiting and not being able to do anything.”
“You’re killing time?”
She shrugs. “Something like that. Okay, it’s all decided then. We’ll go but first, you have to wait for me to send a message.”
“What do you mean send a message?”
Her cheeks redden. She pulls a small screen from her bag. “With this.”
I hold out my hand and feel the weight of the tablet computer, its thin screen and light weight in my hand scream rare tech. I hand it back over. “I thought the Upheaval wiped out all long distance communications. The history programs we had to watch on the ship said it took months to work out that the world was left virtually empty and largely uninhabitable from the disaster.” I pause, remembering what else they told us. “That said, the fact that we were in space was a lie, so I don’t know why I’d believe anything.”
“That much was true,” she says. “Back then. The Company has had time since you left to rig up something for their own communications. And a few months ago, Keane worked out a way to piggyback on their system.”
“The Company let the green robes do that?”
“They don’t know. We’re not exactly transmitting huge quantities of data.”
“So you can talk to Keane at any time?” I hope my dismay doesn’t show in my voice.
Her mouth twists. “I can message him. He might be so pissed that I took this he won’t answer, but I can’t let them think something happened to me.” She taps at the screen and then slides it into a sturdy looking case and then into her pack. “Did you tell Keane you were going?”
“Why should I? He’s not my keeper. Or my leader.”
Megs folds her arms. “What happened?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For a while there you’d have this hero worship thing happening in your voice whenever you mentioned Keane’s name. Now you sound pissed. Did he hurt your feelings?”
“I never hero worshipped him.”
She stares at me, and it’s all I can do not to squirm. “It can’t be the thing with the Lifer girl. You must understand that she needs to be contained. She killed one of your friends.”
“So they say.”
“Why would they lie?”
And I thought having someone come along on a journey where I can’t tell them where I’m going or why, would be tricky. This line of questioning is making all the suspicions I have about the green robes hard to keep to myself.
“I don’t know,” I say when my silence is bordering on suspicious. “Maybe the Company isn’t the only ones who need an army.”
It’s as close to the truth as I dare without telling her everything. Again, I wonder whether I can trust her with everything Kaih and I found, and my theory of how it works together. Megs is my friend, but she’s been with the green robes a long time, and they’re the ones who have her brother.
“You mean us?”
I nod, watching as she considers the possibility. I thought she’d blow me off, but I underestimated her.
“I thought we were allies,” she says eventually.
“I used to think so, too.”
“But not any longer?”
I turn away. “I don’t know what to think anymore. What is the difference between allies and friends? At what point does keeping secrets from each other undermine the whole thing?”
Her hand on my shoulder stops me. “What secrets?”
I shake her off. “Forget it. We should hit the road.”
But as we walk to get far enough away from the camp and start the bike without being heard, I think I can feel her brain ticking over. As she climbs on behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, I know she’s not going to forget anything. Maybe I’ve said too much. Soon we’ll be back in the city where once I was Blank and she was Megs and there was no one to come between us.
Then she’ll know I’m not looking for Asher. I’m looking for a spaceship.
***
Megs and I follow the same trail we took when we left the city to make camp. The weeks since we’ve come this way through the Upheaval Mountains in a convoy of people and trucks and animals have passed in a blink. So much has happened since we erected the first tents. Back then, I had so much hope of life out of the ship.
The threat of the Company hung over us, but I thought together we could defeat them. Or at least hurt them enough that they’d leave us to make our own community in peace. Now I wish for those days of ignorance so much it makes the pain in my head fade to nothing. Back in the ship, I knew where I stood.
“Pay attention,” Megs says into my ear.
I straighten the bike, dragging my thoughts to the road ahead and negotiating the narrow passage between two high walls of rock. Heavy cloud means the day has crept into light rather than burst.
We stopped a while ago to drink and eat but neither of us had much to say. Sometime in the last
hour the drizzle began again, and it’s made the road slippery and my jeans stick to my legs. Megs has kept my back warm and dry and I can’t regret having her along.
I see the rock falling like a head-sized raindrop ahead at the same time as Megs arms tighten around my waist.
“Look out,” she cries.
I don’t waste breath answering. We’re heading straight for it. I drag the handle of the bike hard left. We skid and straighten, going past the rock so close it scrapes the outer edge of my ankle.
“Lucky,” I say.
But before Megs can answer the second rock falls. And then the third. This isn’t about luck. It’s a freaking rockslide.
“Faster.” Megs command is hot on my neck. She’s leaning forward, willing the bike onward.
I’m tempted to point out the swerving, sliding attempts to miss the falling rocks are necessary, but it’s taking all my strength to keep the bike upright on the damp, dirt road.
I mutter curses as the rocks come thick and fast. A nightmare hailstorm that should be loud is muted in my helmet by my pounding heart and strangled breath. Then, even my heart is drowned out. There’s a moaning, deep within the Earth, and the whole road tilts beneath the bike’s wheels.
“Hold on,” I shout.
I know she will. Her grip around my waist is painfully tight, but simply steering doesn’t seem to protect her as the ground moves sideways.
Come on. We can make it.
The handles cut into my palms. I’m gripping so tight. We’re so, so close to the end of the valley; if we can stay upright for a few more—
The bike hits a boulder hidden in the dirt. The front wheel kicks. The bike jerks and jumps like a dog on a rope. I strain to stay up and then try leaning into the skid.
No response.
Think. I have to think. There must be something I can do. There’s always something … Except when there isn’t. The bike’s out of control and the ravine wall is coming fast.
“Noooo …” I don’t know who cries it but it doesn’t matter.
It’s too late.
We’re sliding on the ground now. Holy hell, my leg is on fire, there’s ripping and tearing and is that my skin smoking? And then … Nothing.
Black.
Minutes, hours, seconds pass.
Asher’s face floats above me, and I call her name but she’s looking past me and she’s laughing and she’s saying his name. I try calling again, but I might as well be invisible. I shout, trying to warn her not to trust him but then I look in the mirror and I’m no longer myself.
I’m Davyd … and I’m laughing.
***
The silence when I come to is absolute. I can’t hear my heart or my breath or the cascade of rocks tumbling away from me as I try to sit up. I spit dirt out my mouth and rub grit from my sticky eyes.
I hurt.
But it’s like the pain is happening to someone else. There’s blood on my skin and my clothes where my jeans have ripped as I scraped to a stop. There isn’t an inch of me that hasn’t been battered by rock.
I try to focus on my surroundings. I’m in a pile of rock and a few feet away, the bike is half buried in rubble.
Where’s Megs?
I call her name only no sound comes out. Why doesn’t my voice work?
“Megs.” I shout again. Still no sound.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. My muscles scream in protest as I lift the helmet from my aching skull. The rain’s heavier now and the sky darker. It’s hard to tell because of the rain, but I guess most of the day has passed. Fat drops of water make the blood on my hands and knee run in pale red rivers into my clothes and down into the rocks around me, staining the earth.
I scramble forward, rising as far on my hands and knees. There’s the bike, its shiny wheels bent and twisted beneath a large stone, but Megs isn’t by its side. I need to stand. It’s the piles of rock blocking my view. I’m sure I’ll see Megs if I stand. She can’t be far.
Getting to my feet isn’t as easy as I thought. I stop, breathing hard in a kind of half crouch.
“Megs?” But my throat is straining without sound and my eyes sting. This is stupid. I need to get on my feet. With bloody hands clinging to rock, I drag myself upright. The sky flips for a second, swirls into the piles of rock and mud and strangely dry earth. But I blink and breathe deep, sucking in oxygen, and it flips back.
“Megs?”
I don’t know why I’m still calling. If I’m too quiet for me to hear, there’s no way she’ll be able to, but I can’t give up. Because if I can’t see her then she’s gone or worse, buried. My chest constricts, like one of the huge boulders nearby has taken up residence right on top.
“Megs?”
I turn, half hoping to see her lurking behind, laughing at my foolish fears, but there’s nothing but rock.
She must be here somewhere. She must. The alternative …
There.
A foot. In a purple laced up boot poking up through the rubble. I stumble over on jelly legs, fall hard on my knees beside it. The foot doesn’t move. I scrabble at the rock, digging for Megs. For the girl who took me out in a city where I knew no one.
“Hold on,” I whisper the words without sound.
It takes seconds to clear them. Interminable seconds, where my hands go raw and my fingernails split and bleed. The rocks pile up at my side. Reveal her familiar shape, inch by slender inch. And I fight the war inside.
Hope.
Don’t hope.
Don’t dare to think beyond another rock and another rock.
But then there are only a few more and her chest is rising and falling and her face is cut and her helmet is gone. She’s doesn’t react to me shouting her name, but there’s a pulse beating in her throat and laughter spills from my aching body because Megs is alive.
She’s alive.
When I finish uncovering her and sweeping the dirt from her clothes, I rock back on my heels. She’s not responding to her name or the gentle shake of my hand on her shoulder. Unable to climb to my feet, I crawl back to the bike and dig it out until I find the seat. Inside is a bottle of water.
I crawl back to Megs’ side. I talk to her, soundless whispers promising everything will be okay if she’ll wake up for me, but there’s no response, no flicker of an eyelid. I sip some water and then splash it on her face, dribbling it against her dry lips.
The rain helps me clean Megs’ face, washing the blood from her cuts away, but as it gets heavier, the rocks around us begin to shift. This isn’t safe. We can’t stay out here so exposed. I need to get her to shelter.
I need to get her help.
We’re miles from camp. With no bike, I’ll have no choice but to walk, and that means leaving her. Alone, here in the open where she could be found by the Company or wild dogs. I shake my head to stop the cascade of impossible options, each one more despairing than before. First shelter, and then the rest. I can’t consider beyond that. Anyway, she might wake in a few minutes and be fine.
I scan the options. The only shelter nearby free from potential rock falling is maybe fifty yards away, where the cliff wall bends in on itself. As I try to imagine carrying Megs to the spot, it stretches to impossible distances. I blink, and it’s fifty yards again. Megs is tiny, I can do this.
Before moving her, I run my hands over each of her limbs.
How I’d love for her to wake up and slap me for taking liberties, but she doesn’t move as I test her arms and legs and press lightly around her waist. There are no jerks of pain or obvious wounds beyond the cut on her head and a few scratches.
I hesitate. If she’s injured internally or there’s a problem with her spine from the fall from the bike, I might do more damage moving her from this position. I press my palm hard into my aching temple, fighting thoughts of the thing growing somewhere near the back of my skull. I don’t know. I’m no doctor.
There’s a vibration beneath my knees, and the pile of r
ocks we’re on shifts in response. I slide with them, unable to do anything but try to use my own body to cushion Megs’ fall. It’s unsafe, and the rain is soaking through her clothes. Darkness is falling, and we need shelter before it’s too dark to see anything.
Decision made. I force myself upright and hook my hands under her shoulders. Leaving her out here is no longer an option.
Ten steps in to moving her dead weight, the burning in my shoulders from dragging her ceases. I don’t think it’s a good thing, but I can’t stop to analyze. I might not be able to move again. I keep going. One foot and then the other. And at some point, I admit what I haven’t let myself think about before now.
I can’t hear.
Neither the scrape of my foot on the rocks, nor the splatter of the rain on my jacket, nor the breath making Megs’ chest rise and fall. Not even the encouragement I’m whispering for both our sakes. Finally we reach the shelter of the cliff face, away from the main fall. I fight a sob as I fight to resist dropping her here at the final hurdle. Letting her fall would be so easy, and my arms beg me to do it.
Drop her. You’ve carried her this far. It’s more than anyone would expect you to do. Drop her now. No one will ever know.
I ignore the voice in my head. It’s the same one that makes curling up against the wall seem appealing. It’s nothing but fear, pain, and exhaustion talking, and I don’t need to listen to them.
Slowly, with utmost care, I lower her head to the ground.
But I don’t settle down next to her. It’s so dark now I can hardly make out the end of the chasm where the road back to camp winds into the distance. I need to salvage what I can of our supplies before night falls.
We’re stranded for now and both injured. What if Megs never wakes? What if I never see Asher again?
Despite everything that’s happened I can’t think of Asher without the stab of guilt. I make a promise. If we make it out of this alive, I’ll tell Asher everything. She deserves the truth, and I can’t pretend any longer.
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