by Melanie Tays
“Eason, Enforcers and the Council are watching you,” I warn him. Now that I’m sure we can talk safely, I tell him the whole truth about how I actually crossed the Wall of Fire, and the trouble I’m in because of it. “They think you came back to the Burning for some nefarious reason, and they want me to find out what it is. I’m worried about you.”
He laughs. “Seriously, they asked you to spy on me?” He doesn’t seem upset or even worried. “And what have you told them?”
“I haven’t had anything to tell. I’ve made sure of that. Every time I thought you might say something they would want to know, I changed the subject or made an excuse to leave, just in case they were listening.”
“Of course, you were right. They were listening, no doubt,” he mutters. “Well that explains all the abrupt departures. I thought I was doing something seriously wrong to upset or bore you.”
I laugh and wrap my arms around him. “Quite the opposite,” I assure him. “But Eason, I’m worried what they’ll do to you. If they don’t have whatever answers they want, the Council will send you to the Ash.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, unconcerned. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
And then a thought occurs to me—too ludicrous for me to have ever considered before this moment. “Is that what you want, Eason? Do you want out of The City? Did you rank last on the Bronze Trial on purpose?” It’s crazy to think that anyone would want to face the horrors of the Ash, but it’s really the only conclusion that fits the facts.
“Yes,” he says simply.
“Then why go through all of this? The maze was a perfect way out. It would have been so easy for you to just not find the exit.”
“True,” he agrees. “But I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t ready to leave that night. My preparations are…delicate. Everything wasn’t in place yet.”
“Preparations? What are you talking about?” Sometimes Eason can be so cryptic, and I wonder if that’s because he doesn’t know how to just say something straight, or if it’s a survival tactic he’s learned through years of living in the Flame.
“The City is not what we’ve been told,” Eason says, leading me to sit with him on the edge of the bed. “The Withers has been gone for ages, but the Council won’t let go of the power they have here. The Safe Dome wasn’t meant to stay up forever.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Everyone knows that the world outside has been ravaged by the Withers. Roamers—the few who survived the disease—are all that are left, and they are savage. The hope of humanity is within the Safe Domes that shelter those who were lucky enough to reach them before the disease overtook them.
“You don’t know anything about the outside. How could you? Eason, you can’t leave—not on purpose. You’ll die. What would be the point of that?”
“I won’t die. I know how to bring the barrier field down and set everyone free from this prison, but it has to be from the outside.”
I gasp and cover my mouth. Not only for his sake, but for the sake of everyone, I hope he’s wrong. If he brings down the barrier field protecting The City, it will be overrun and pillaged in days. We’ll be defenseless against the disease the Roamers carry, and unprepared for their desperate and wild attacks for food and other resources. Can I really stand by and let him do this? All my efforts to save Whyle will mean nothing if The City ceases to exist to protect him.
And then he hits me with another bombshell. “Emery, I want you to come with me.”
“Wait, Eason. I can’t leave The City,” I protest. “Even if what you say is true—which I don’t believe—I came here for a reason. I have to find a way to get that medicine to my brother. He doesn’t have much time left.”
“It won’t be enough,” he says.
“I have enough medicine for everyone who was sick. More, even.”
“So you make him better now, but what about the next thing, and the next? This isn’t random, Emery. It’s not a normal illness. The Council is doing this on purpose.”
“Why?” I demand.
He looks away, unable to answer.
“Nothing you’re telling me makes sense, Eason,” I insist, imploring him to see reason.
“Emery, I’ve waited for you for so long,” he pleads. “I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”
“How could you have been waiting for me? I never planned to join the Burning,” I counter, refusing to be manipulated.
“Okay, not you specifically—though I can’t say how glad I was when I saw your name that night. Honestly, I was waiting for anyone from the Smoke. I need an ally, and only someone who has seen what we’ve seen would understand that The City isn’t right and it can’t last. It was never meant to be this way.”
“The Smoke has problems,” I hedge. “But we have food, we have a place to live, we’re safe there. Our families are there. That’s more than the Ash has to offer. Who knows if the other Safe Domes are even still functioning? For all we know, we’re all that’s left of healthy and civilized humankind. Whether or not this was the original plan, it’s all we’ve got now, and that’s all the more reason to protect it.”
Eason is about to say more when heavy footsteps approach in the hallway. He leaps to his feet and replaces his intercuff. Three quick raps on the door announce someone’s presence. Eason reaffixes my band, and the sharp, biting throb that signals its activation is just as intense this time as it was the first.
He walks to the door and opens it. Doctor Hollen and an Enforcer are there, looking as though they were about ready to override the lock. Surprised, the Enforcer looks down at the tablet he carries, and then back to Eason and me, wide-eyed.
“Are you all right?” Doctor Hollen asks, coming in and shining lights to check both of our eyes.
“Fine. Why?” Eason asks, sounding completely innocent. He’s a good actor, I realize.
“Our mistake,” the Enforcer apologizes, clearly confused. “A short lapse in signal led us to believe that you were in need of help. But it appears it was a malfunction. I’ll have to check the receivers.”
“I can assure you that we are both perfectly fine,” Eason says. “Thanks for checking on us, though. It’s nice to know that someone is looking out for us.”
When they’re gone, Eason turns to me. Our candor is over now that the intercuffs are active again, but a lot can be said with a glance, and he’s begging me to believe him, to give up everything for him.
I’m shaking and terrified now for an entirely different reason than when I arrived in this room tonight. Terrance is right to be concerned about Eason. The only question is, now that I know, what am I going to do about it?
Chapter 17
In the morning, I don’t want to go to breakfast and face Eason, so instead I walk in solitude around the yard outside while the other contestants eat. Despite a restless night and long internal debates, I’m still not entirely certain what I’m going to do about Eason.
If he wants to get himself thrown to the Ash, that’s his problem. But could he really pose a threat to the entire Safe Dome? I can’t rule out the possibility. He’s done more than a few things that most people would say are impossible. For starters, he not only passed the Burning the first time through despite coming from the Smoke, but apparently did so with such grandeur that he received one of the most coveted assignments in the Flame. Then he chose to give it all up. And he has that secret key to the intercuffs.
What if he really has discovered some way to bring down the barrier field, and I say nothing and just let it happen? If knowing that Ty’s death is my fault is eating me like a ravenous beast in my belly, how will I survive knowing that every person who dies at the hands of Roamers and the Withers is my fault, too?
I can’t. That guilt will gnaw at me until I beg for death.
I have to tell Terrance what I know.
With that decision, I feel better, but also worse. There are precious few people I’ve trusted in my life. I can count them on three fingers—Whyl
e, Mom, and Dad. For a moment, that circle expanded to encompass Eason—an ally in the abyss of the Burning. But I can see now how that was a mistake. It’s always a mistake to get too close. The one thing you can always count on other people to do is to disappoint you. Not necessarily because they want to, but because they’ve got problems of their own. That’s why I usually keep to myself. It’s too easy to get swept up and find that other people’s problems have spread like a virus and become yours, too.
I find myself near the greenhouse, and my stomach rumbles at the thought of the food inside. No one has said anything about the lemon and pepper that Eason gave me yesterday, so I decide there isn’t much risk in popping in for just a minute to get something to replace the breakfast that I have chosen to forgo. But when I try the door, it’s locked. A panel has been installed, and I scan my intercuff, but to no avail.
Disappointed, I turn away. Ashlyn’s sitting against the wall taking slow, deep breaths, and I have to say she does not look good. I wonder how she managed to escape the maze, as frail as she seems. But that wasn’t all about speed and physical ability. A fair bit of luck could go a long way there.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I think it’s the food this morning,” she says weakly. “I hope it isn’t a permanent change. Honestly, I don’t know how you managed, Emery.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. I wasn’t at breakfast, so I don’t know what she’s referring to.
“That gray mush they fed us. They said that’s what the Smoke is served for every meal. It was awful.”
“They served meal rations here?”
She nods.
I’m surprised—and disappointed if I’m not going to get real food anymore—but honestly, isn’t that the best thing for the sustainability of The City? It makes sense.
“You get used to it,” I assure her, but she doesn’t look convinced.
Just then, a message appears on both of our intercuffs.
Report to the main hall for the Gold Trial.
***
I’m the second to last to arrive in the trial room, followed only by Eason. I stay as far away from him as I can without acknowledging him, and the effort contracts and wrings at my heart.
We are all huddled in a small area at the entrance that has been walled off from the rest of the room. There’s a palpable hum of energy in the air coming from the other contestants, and I wonder what they know that I don’t about what lies beyond that wall.
Keya speaks to us from above. “Contestants, we have finally reached the Gold Trial—the pinnacle of the Burning experience.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
She pauses as the final ring above us ignites in dramatic flair. Sparks rain down on us, tingling wherever they touch.
“In a moment, your path will be open. You will have one hour to reach safety,” she explains. “This is your final opportunity to prove yourself to the Council. Be swift. Be brave. Be wise. Be pure.”
As if that’s a cue, the wall before us transforms to fog, and I realize that it must have been nothing more than a projection on a barrier field, much like the Wall of Fire itself. That’s probably how they made the maze as well. I wonder how many things in The City aren’t even real.
But as I consider this, I’m wasting time. Most of the other contestants have already crossed the fog, and I leap through after them. I will give everything I have to this trial. I’m so close to passing the Burning, I can taste it and smell it, and I want it like nothing I’ve ever wanted before.
Once I clear the sweet-tasting fog, I’m in a clearing at the edge of a forest with paths running in a dozen different directions. Most of the contestants have already scattered and passed out of sight. That makes me think that staying in the open isn’t a wise plan. Didn’t Keya say that reaching safety is the goal—which can only mean that this place is the opposite of safe.
I dive behind the nearest tree to observe, sheltered behind its wide trunk. My foot hits something, and I nearly lose my balance. Looking down, I see what almost tripped me, and I can hardly believe my eyes. A blaster lies at my feet.
Timidly, I lift and examine it. I’ve never used one before, never even held one. The closest I’ve come is being shot with one just after being forced to enter the Burning. It looks real enough, though. It can’t be that difficult to use. I find the trigger and practice holding it. I can throw a stone with pinpoint accuracy, so surely I can aim a blaster shot when the time comes—and I feel certain it will.
That’s when the first whistle rings out, followed by a series of thuds like a shower of falling debris. I jump to my feet, press my back to the tree, and peek around to see what’s happened.
Sinister-looking darts fly through the air, coming from high in a nearby tree. The attack appears to be directed at Eason, who is wandering around aimlessly in the open clearing—the only contestant in sight. If there was any doubt about what he told me last night—at least about his desire to go to the Ash—it is erased now. I know that he will never reach whatever safe haven is our goal, and the Council will have no choice but to expel him.
A dart catches him in the neck and sends him to the ground. There’s no blood, but I’m guessing it must be poisoned because he stays down, moaning.
I’m so aggravated that he’s brought on this attack right here. It’s blocking my progress, and I’ll never make it across without taking a dart or two myself. There must be another contestant in the tree firing at him. How many contestants have some kind of weapon now? I have a feeling this trial is going to make Vander’s attack in the maze feel downright hospitable. But at least this time I have a weapon.
I sling the blaster strap over my shoulder and start to scale the tree in hopes of finding a vantage point that will allow me to spot the source of the attack. I climb as high as I can before the branches become too thin and threaten to give beneath my weight.
It’s high enough that I can see not a person, but rather a black box set in a tree twenty feet away, from which the darts are being launched. It’s not another contestant; it’s a trap that’s been set for us. I pull the blaster from my back and take aim. The first shot is too high, but the second connects, and the box falls lifeless to the ground.
I scurry back down the tree. The second my feet hit the ground, I’m running before another attack can be levied from somewhere else. I know that the smart move would be to make for the nearest path and take shelter in the forest, but Eason is writhing on the ground and I can’t just leave him. I have to at least get him out of sight.
“Come on, Eason.” I pull at his arm, and he mutters something incoherent and rolls away from me like I’m the threat here.
Annoyed, I pursue him. In addition to the dart in his neck, he’s taken two more in his legs and one in his arm. I pull them all out, hoping that will help somehow, but I suspect that the full dose of poison has already been administered.
“Eason, we have to move! Let’s go. I’m trying to help you,” I say, keeping my voice low in case noise will trigger more attacks.
He looks up at me, and his eyes are unfocused. He smiles and starts to laugh. “You’re really pretty, you know,” he says, his words slurred. “Where are we?”
What did those darts drug him with? Whatever it was, there’s no question that a hit from those will almost certainly wipe out any hope of passing this trial.
And then a plan begins to form that just might salvage everything.
“Eason, stand up!” I tug at his arm, and this time he doesn’t fight me. I have him on his feet and we are walking, although I have to keep a tight hold on him or he starts to wander. But soon enough, we make it to the tree line.
Eason may have intended to thoroughly fail this trial, but he’s in no condition to remember that now. If I can get us both to the end in time, I may just be able to prevent him from failing the Burning. That would save Eason without necessitating that I turn him in to Terrance and the Council while still protecting The City from whateve
r damage he’s planning in his misguided attempt to save us.
I catch sight of Mieka and the spiky-haired guy running down a path to my left, so that’s plenty of reason for me to veer right. I debate whether sticking to the path where we’ll be expected is really the best strategy, but wandering aimlessly through the trees sounds even worse, so I keep us treading along the path at a slow jog, which is the most I can coax out of Eason.
The path forks every few yards, creating dozens, or maybe even hundreds, of possible routes. There’s no way to guess which way is best, so I take alternating lefts and rights, which keeps us moving in a fairly straight line overall.
Traveling amid the trees with Eason at my side, I can’t help feeling like I’m back in the maze. But this is sure to hold new challenges and unexpected tests, because this is the finale of the Burning.
After we travel about five minutes, beautiful birds swoop into view. I’ve seen so few birds in my life that I can’t help stopping to admire their majestic flight and vibrant colors. But almost immediately, I know that this is a mistake. As soon as we are within reach, these birds, with wingspans as wide as my arms are long, begin to descend on us, diving at us like prey—first a red one, then orange, then green, then blue. The birds circle above us, taking turns diving at our heads, pecking and clawing.
I run for cover, but Eason just stares at them, unconcerned, as they tear into the flesh of his cheeks and shoulders, ripping through his shirt like it’s paper. So I guess whatever was in that dart does something to deaden pain in addition to reason.
I take aim with the blaster, but the birds are too fast and only come into view when they’re close, so I risk hitting Eason. Before I have time to consider, I sling the blaster back over my shoulder and run back for him, sustaining several large gashes across my arms as I ward off the birds and pull him to safety.
“Red, orange, green, blue, here they come to devour you,” Eason begins chanting over and over.
I ignore him as I take aim again. This time, when the birds dive, I take them out easily. In almost perfect harmony, I bring down the birds as Eason calls out their colors.