Despite the fact that I’m pretty sure this is all part of Mr. Winn’s endgame, something inside me relaxes in Dad’s presence. I lean into him. Tears threaten. This is the first I’ve seen him since we were tranqed upon entering the Dome. I take a deep breath as a few tears leak down my face. Riska crawls onto Dad’s shoulder, purring.
“Everything is going to be okay,” Dad whispers, stroking my hair. I blot my eyes dry on his shirt.
I turn my head and watch Aston and Taro engage in an awkward hug that’s more of an exchange of shoulder pats.
Aston is everything my dad is not—big, thickly muscled, and clean-cut. His skin is dark, and his merc jumpsuit impeccable, his black hair is buzzed in a clean military cut.
Past Taro and Aston stands Mrs. Long. Her face spasms when she sees Billy. She elbows her way through our group and grabs her son. I can’t see much of Billy’s face due to his shaggy bangs, but the hug he gives his mom is fierce.
“Where’s Uncle Zed?” I whisper to Dad.
Dad gives a slight shake of his head. “We’ll talk later,” he says into my ear.
Uneasiness lumps in my stomach. I keep my mouth shut, even though questions bubble up.
“A family reunion,” Mr. Winn says, waving his arms from his seat in the green chair. His eyes flick to me. “This is what Global is all about: family.”
Anger rises in my throat. What about Uncle Zed? I want to say. He’s as much a part of this family as the rest of us. What’s happened to him?
Riska growls, tail lashing. I pull him off Dad’s shoulder. Riska tries to look in Mr. Winn’s direction, but I position him against my chest and block his view.
Mr. Winn levers himself out of the chair. Quite a feat considering his massive bulk. He strolls around the perimeter of our group. A smile pulls at his lips as he surveys us.
“Family always looks after family,” he says. “That is why Claudine and I have built a community where you can all live out your lives in safety and security. When you’re ready, I have mercenaries standing by to take you to your new homes. Our four young heroes will return here in the morning to begin their work with Ms. Sturgess.”
“Our work with Ms. Sturgess?” I straighten, pushing myself from the safety of Dad’s arms. I know what’s coming and can’t keep the hostility out of my voice. Riska crawls onto my shoulder, the fur along his spine stranding straight up.
“Of course,” Mr. Winn says. “None of you had the opportunity to speak to your fans tonight. Rest assured, it is not my intent to squirrel away our country’s biggest heroes. Ms. Sturgess will be coaching you, helping each of you develop your unique voice so your fans can get to know you. We have a full Vex schedule lined up.”
Riska growls.
“Mr. Winn,” I say, ignoring the annoyed look Hank directs at me, “I thought we only agreed to one press conference?”
“You did,” Mr. Winn replies. His mouth smiles at me, but his eyes do not. “You won’t be required to do any more press conferences. I’d go bankrupt if I had to keep renting Infinity Stadium.” He laughs. “Thanks to Ms. Sturgess’s hard work, you’ll each be making public appearances at Vex events and talk shows.”
“But—” I begin, frustration tightening my chest.
“It’ll be great, Sulan,” Hank interjects. “We can support the company this way. It won’t be a big deal.” She gives Mr. Winn a bright smile.
I stare at Hank as if she’s grown horns. Where is my best friend?
Then I look past Hank at her family. At her mother, father, and little brother. The only reason they’re here is because of Hank. Her family was steps away from homelessness when she got her scholarship to Virtual High School. Global gave her parents jobs. Global gave Hank a monetary stipend when she upheld a GPA over 4.0. She will do anything to protect her family.
I understand this scene for what it is: all of us—Billy, Hank, Taro, and me—reunited with our family members; the concept of Global family thrown in our face; the promise of a safe, happy place to live; and then the casual revelation that each of us will be embarking on a press junket.
Mr. Winn set this up from the beginning. He buttered us up with our families, but the truth is that this maneuver is a veiled threat. The message is clear: as easily as Mr. Winn can give us our families and our safety, he can also take those things away. The Dome is his kingdom, and he is the king. We must comply with his plans for us.
I swallow, acknowledging the fact that I’m a fly—an itsy bitsy, teeny tiny fly—caught in a sprawling spiderweb. I understand my place in the web and what’s expected of me, but I don’t have to like it.
“Miss Simmons, I like your company spirit.” Mr. Winn pats her on the shoulder. “Family takes care of family. When Global is awarded the defense contract, our family will reap the rewards. Each of you has the opportunity to better the welfare of the Global family. Each of you has the opportunity to improve your personal welfare within the company. If Miss Simmons can spread her enthusiasm to the rest of you, we’ll be in good shape.”
I glance at Taro and Billy. Taro stares at some distant point on the wall, his face impassive. Billy has retreated behind his hair, shoulders hunched. Riska’s tail lashes ferociously against my neck, the tip whacking my ear.
“Tomorrow, then,” Mr. Winn says. “I will send mercs to pick you up at eight thirty, after breakfast. Ms. Sturgess will see that you get settled into your new homes. You have the evening with your families.”
With that, he waddles out of the room, his purple tracksuit and fluorescent-yellow running shoes disappearing through the same back door Claudine had used.
As soon as Mr. Winn is out of sight, Hank pulls me aside. “What’s wrong with you?” she hisses.
“What’s wrong with me?” I reply, struggling to keep my voice low. Riska hisses at Hank.
“I have a family to take care of,” Hank says. “Timmy is eight years old, Sulan. Eight! This is the best life I can give him and I’m not going to let you ruin it. You should be grateful for everything Mr. Winn is giving us.”
“He’s using us,” I snap. “We were kidnapped. Tortured. Almost sold on the black market. Mr. Winn wants to use what happened to us to make money. My mother was killed!” The last sentence comes out as a near-shriek. It’s not until I say it that I truly understand why all this bothers me so much.
My mother is dead. Mr. Winn wants to make money off the event that got her killed. Angry, frustrated tears well in my eyes.
The entire room falls silent. The few remaining gray-shirted tech workers turn to look at us.
Taro and Billy maneuver between us, forcing Hank and me apart.
Billy takes Hank’s hand. “Come meet my mom,” he says to her.
Taro puts an arm around my shoulders and ushers me away. Riska hisses again. My gaze falls on Dad and I glare at him because I don’t know what else to do with all the feelings boiling inside me.
Dad stares back at me helplessly. “Sulan,” he says, stretching out a hand in my direction.
“Keep it together,” Taro murmurs in my ear. “You can grieve for your mother later. Don’t do it here.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. I don’t want to share my grief with a room full of strangers. I won’t share my grief.
Taro squeezes my shoulders, keeping his arm around me. Something inside me hardens. I might be nothing more than a puny fly, but even spiders must suffer from indigestion once in a while. I vow to be the source of that indigestion any way I can. Even if all I can do is smash a pair of Vex glasses or kick off a pair of shoes.
Riska mews and licks the top of my head, then gnashes his teeth together as hair gets tangled on his tongue.
I notice Dad and Aston standing side by side, watching me and Taro. Dad’s eyes are wide. Aston’s expression is thoughtful as he regards his son.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Taro.
We wordlessly head out of the media room. It’s easier to pretend I didn’t just have a near meltdown if everyone else pretends
with me.
Outside in the hall, one of the mercs detaches himself from the wall and steps in front of us. He sizes us up with one look, then jerks his chin over his shoulder.
“Follow me,” he says. “I’ll take you out.”
He leads us through the twisting granite hall. A set of double steel doors appears at the far end of a long corridor. As we approach, the doors beep and slide open, revealing open air and blue sky—the first I’ve seen since I woke up from the tranq.
Another merc saunters into the Fortress. He has salt-and-pepper hair, a white soul patch, and a dark mole next to his left eye.
“Captain Maxwell,” says the merc leading us. He tips his chin in greeting and steps to one side, making room for Maxwell to pass.
Taro and I follow suit, stepping to one side of the corridor. As Maxwell nears, I notice an odd, familiar smell to him. I try to place it. As I do, Riska leaps off my shoulder.
With a growl, he streaks straight at the captain.
With an inarticulate yell, I grab Riska by the tail and yank him backward. As I do, a stream of venom sprays from his mouth.
8
The Dome
The merc leans sideways, avoiding most of the venom with chilly calm. A few droplets hit the shoulder of his uniform. Smoke drifts up from the fabric as the venom eats clean through the fabric.
Riska snaps his wings shut and growls as I squash him against my chest.
Venom dribbles from his teeth. I angle his head so the droplets hit the stone floor. Tendrils of smoke rise up from the ground.
“Calm down, boy.” I rub his head, heart hammering in my chest. Riska has never attacked for no reason.
The merc glares at me and Riska through narrowed eyes, assessing us.
“Captain Maxwell.” Taro steps forward, forming a wall between us and the merc.
Maxwell shifts his focus away from me. “Hudanus.” He greets Taro with a sharp nod.
“Did you just arrive in the Dome, sir?” Taro asks.
“Mind your own business,” Maxwell snaps. “You might be Mr. Winn’s pet hero, but I still outrank you.”
With that, he continues his saunter down the hall. Riska growls again.
“What was that all about?” Taro asks.
I shake my head, giving him a wide-eyed look to convey my confusion. I stroke Riska’s head, but he doesn’t stop rumbling until Maxwell turns a corner and disappears from sight.
“There you are!” Kerry appears from around the same corner. She hustles to catch up with us. “Are you two ready for your first view of the Dome?”
She barrels past us without waiting for an answer, heading into the open air beyond the double doors. Our merc escort shrugs and disappears back into the Fortress.
I give Riska one last pat before transferring him back to my shoulder. His tail lashes, but he doesn’t growl or try to dive-bomb anyone. His dislike was apparently for Maxwell alone. Something must not be right about that man. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out.
“This way,” Kerry says, gesturing to me and Taro. We follow her and find ourselves ejected into the shining, sunlit air of the Dome.
“Whoa,” I breathe, halting mid-stride at the sight that greets us. Thoughts of Maxwell melt away.
Before us, a large animal raises his black-and-white striped head, gazing at us. His ears swivel in our direction and he gives a luxurious yawn.
Riska rumbles, digging his claws into my shoulder.
I stare at the creature, words catching in my throat. I’ve never seen a real horse, but I’ve seen enough pre-’Fault movies to guess the creature in front of me is roughly the same size. His body is covered in striped fur identical to Riska’s. That’s not the only thing identical. A pair of translucent black wings graces the animal’s back—although his wingspan looks closer to twenty feet, not the four-foot span of Riska’s.
“That’s, like, Riska to the power of ten,” Billy says, coming to stand beside me and Taro.
I’ve been so busy staring I didn’t notice that the rest of the group joining us. I avoid looking at Hank, keeping my gaze on the giant animal.
“That’s an Aircat,” Dad says from behind us. “Riska’s predecessor and my invention.” The pride in his voice is unmistakable. “This is Global’s answer to the gasoline shortage. Aircats will give our merc corps mass mobility, something other merc corps don’t have. They’re fast, strong, and have the endurance of horses. They’re more agile and versatile than any electronic vehicle will ever be. They’ll make cities much easier to patrol and protect.”
Dad walks straight up to the beautiful Aircat. The animal leans into his hand as Dad scratches him between the ears. Riska lets out a sound that’s half growl, half yowl.
“Dr. Hom, they’re amazing,” Hank breathes.
“Sissy, can I have one?” little Timmy asks, clutching her hand.
“No, silly,” Hank replies. There’s a softness to her voice I’ve never heard before. “These belong to the mercs.” She tousles her little brother’s hair with her free hand.
Seeing Hank interact with Timmy blunts the edge of my anger. How can I blame her for wanting to take care of her family?
Riska hisses at something to my right. I turn and see a dozen more Aircats lumber around a corner. They’re accompanied by black-clad mercenaries who are each adorned with a neural net.
I press one hand against Riska’s back, worried he might freak out again and attack another mercenary. He rumbles, ears swiveling in the direction of the Aircats, but doesn’t try to attack.
“You’re lucky,” Kerry says to us. “Aircats are usually reserved for mercenaries, but since they’re the only way in and out of the Fortress, each of you gets to ride one back to the Village.” She waves her hands at us, shooing us in the direction of the big animals. “Go on. There’s one for each of you.”
“The only way in and out of the Fortress?” I murmur to Taro. “What’s she talking about?”
“Look where we are.” Taro cups my elbow, leading me around the Aircats.
That’s when I realize we’re on a massive stone ledge a good hundred feet in the air. I’ve been so enraptured by the sight of the Aircats I hadn’t even taken the time to study my surroundings.
The Fortress is built into a mountainside, as I had guessed. The faceted glass ceiling of the Dome sparkles overhead. Flurries of snow swirl against it, looking almost like clouds against the backdrop of a blue sky.
The ledge we stand on extends into the open air for two hundred feet. There’s no railing, no rampart of any sort to keep anyone from falling off the edge. Behind us, only the double steel doors hint at the massive internal structure that make up the Fortress. There are no stairs of any kind; as Kerry said, the only way in or out is by Aircat.
“Sulan,” Dad calls. “Over here.” He gestures to an Aircat.
A thick mercenary woman sits on its back, the lights of the neural net dancing around her head. I exchange a glance with Taro, then head to the Aircat. The woman grabs my hand, pulling me up behind her.
Riska snarls and jumps off my shoulder. He whizzes overhead, growling. At first I think his agitation is directed at the merc woman. I tense, ready to grab him out of the air again if necessary. But Riska doesn’t attack.
After a moment, I realize his hostility is directed at the Aircat. He circles close to the animal’s head, delivering a steady stream of growls.
The giant animal flicks his ears in Riska’s direction. Other than that, it ignores him. Riska is like a cat squawking at a horse.
“Good thing the Aircats aren’t as feisty as your Risk Alleviator,” says the merc woman. “A thousand pounds of attitude would be more than most of us could handle. Hang on.”
Lights flare around her neural net. The Aircat trots forward, picking up speed as it goes. At the last moment, the beast throws open its wings and leaps off the edge.
My stomach rises into my throat as we swoop downward. I dig my nails into the stiff black fabric of the merc’s j
umpsuit. The Aircat beats its wings, halting our descent and propelling us up, up, and up.
We fly along a mere twenty feet below the top of the Dome. It arches above us in glitters of interconnecting glass hexagons. Snow swirls against the glass, gathering in powdery puffs until they get too heavy and slide away. The humid warmth of the Dome interior is an odd juxtaposition to the snowy Alaskan wilderness that surrounds it.
I turn my gaze downward, trying to take advantage of my aerial view.
The Dome is a string eight biodomes. They are connected in a sinuous line that hugs the side of a natural mountain. The squadron of Aircats flies through the biodomes, carrying me and my friends away from the Fortress.
Just below the Fortress are men and women in bulletproof jumpsuits. They walk in and out of a six-story cinder block building. Splayed around the building are lush fields of grass dedicated to training. They contain sparring pits, obstacle courses, and shooting ranges. The staccato of gunshots makes the Aircat swivel its ears.
I can hardly wrap my head around all the green grass. I guess when you’re in the middle of a snowy wasteland it’s pretty easy to get water. Mom used to tell me about a time when lawns were as common a sight as asphalt and concrete, but I’ve never seen green grass before. It’s beautiful to behold. Much nicer to look at than fields of dry brown grass covered with refugee lean-tos.
Past the merc headquarters and training fields is another cinder block building. It’s surrounded by men and women in dark blue polos. Many of them wear white lab coats over the polos. That must be the laboratory where Dad and the other scientists work.
It’s where I’m destined to spend my life.
Next come rolling fields of livestock. There are honest-to-god animals. Not brainless lumps grown in vats, but real animals—pigs, rabbits, chickens, ducks, pigeons, and goats. Are they for eating? The only times I’ve ever eaten a real animal was at Christmastime, when Global sent home a ham or a turkey.
Past the livestock is sprawling farmland. There are orchards. I’ve never seen fruit and nut trees before, except in pictures. There are also plowed rows of crops, all of them bursting with plants I can’t name. It’s so strange to see food growing.
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