The Forsaken (Forsaken - Trilogy)

by Lisa M. Stasse

  LIAM GRABS MY ARM, trying to put himself between me and whatever’s headed in our direction.

  “What do we do?” I yell.

  “I can hear it, but I can’t see it!” Liam says, staring into the blackness of this terrible void. “Use your ears.”

  I spin around, trying to locate the increasingly loud whisking sounds. The visor makes it hard to see and hear. My breath grows faster and more ragged. I’m starting to hyperventilate, and I can’t stop.

  The miniature feeler must have been summoned by Clara after I tampered with Liam’s pod. I forgot that they appeared each time we crossed a zone or boundary. What could be more of a boundary than the line between life and death? It just never occurred to me there could be smaller indoor variants.

  “On your left!” Gadya yells in our headphones. Liam and I both turn in that direction just as a thin tentacle flashes through the darkness, barely missing my helmet. Liam tries to reach out and swat it away, but it evades him in the darkness.

  What will happen if this robot gets us? It might not kill us, but it might stuff us into pods and freeze us, like week-old hamburger meat. That’s all we are to it. Meat for dissection. And I still don’t know why.

  Honor can be found in death. I learned that on the wheel during our battles with the drones. But what honor is found by being frozen alive in perpetual hibernation, in a seemingly abandoned warehouse? Eternal stasis is worse than death.

  “Oh no,” Gadya’s voice says in my ear. She isn’t screaming anymore, which makes me even more afraid. “There’s more than one of them.”

  “Where?” Liam asks.

  “Everywhere. On all sides, closing in. At least five. They’re floating like jellyfish.”

  It’s funny. I thought Gadya would be the one who wouldn’t make it. Because she got injured, and because she’s up in the observation deck, closer to the surface of the island. I thought Liam and I were safe down here.

  But I was wrong.

  “Talk to the computer,” Liam says. “Make it stop them somehow.”

  “Clara!” I yell. “Tell these selection units, or whatever they are, to leave us alone! You don’t have to do this.”

  The voice is coolly efficient. “Earlier, I requested that you move to the observation deck, but you did not follow my suggestion. You will therefore be removed and placed in protective custody until the staff of this station returns.”

  “They’re never coming back!” I scream. “Don’t you get it?” I hear more metallic noises now, coming from every direction, just like Gadya said. She’s trying to tell us which way to go. But her voice is breaking up into electronic crackles. I’m yelling at her to shut Clara down again, but she can’t hear.

  “We want out of here,” Liam tells Clara. “Just let us get back to the observation deck and we’ll leave peacefully, okay?”

  “I am following Silver Shore protocol,” the voice tells us. “I must detain you because of your actions.”

  I feel something grab my arm. I yank it back instinctively, thinking it’s a tentacle. But it’s Liam.

  I look at him. Our eyes meet through the glass of our visors. “There’s probably no way out of this one, Alenna,” he says with surprising calm. “Those things are going to collect us, put us into pods, and freeze us. And no one’s ever going to come and find us.”

  “I know that!” I yell. We only have a few seconds left before the tentacles grab us.

  “I’m not getting frozen again. No way. And I’m not letting it happen to you, either.”

  “Then we need to run!”

  “Run where? These things can move way faster than us.”

  I don’t have an answer.

  “What if we don’t run?” Liam suddenly says. “What if we do exactly what we’re not supposed to do.”

  I stare at him through my visor. “Which is?”

  “Get these helmets off and climb back into my pod together. And let it take us out of here on schedule. Hijack their mechanisms. Get off the wheel that way.”

  I don’t need time to think about his idea. It’s crazy, ill-thought out, and probably doomed to fail. “Let’s do it!” I yell.

  Gadya’s been listening, and now she speaks over the radio: “Move fast. Less than one minute left!”

  Then I realize that if we leave, we’ll be stranding Gadya. Leaving her to either bleed to death, or get taken by an indoor feeler. “Wait, we can’t go!” I suddenly yell. “I can’t leave you.”

  “You have to! They’ll probably just find me and freeze me. . . . I’ll be here waiting when you come back and rescue me, along with everyone else.”

  I know she’s just saying that to help us make the decision to leave. I hesitate for a second.

  “Do it!” Gadya screams over a burst of static. “Or we’re all going to die. Every single villager on the wheel. You and Liam are our only chance!”

  Before she can say another word, I’m already tearing off my helmet. The cold is unbearable, like a living entity surrounding me, trying to flay the skin off my face. Outer space couldn’t be much colder. I don’t know how Liam was able to withstand it even for a second.

  “We’ll come back for you!” Liam yells to Gadya.

  I want to cry. Gadya is the one person who saw me through this entire journey, and now I feel like I’m ditching her. But she’s right. If we don’t get off the wheel, no one else will either. At least not for a very long time.

  The countdown clock on the pod is still running.

  Thirty-two seconds left.

  “Go, you idiots!” Gadya yells.

  I know her sacrifice is for the sake of all of us villagers. It’s not just for me and Liam. I vow that if I survive, I will do everything I can to get everyone off this island and back to civilization.

  Liam has torn his helmet off too, with a wild glint in his eyes. “This might actually work!” he yells at me. “Go! Go!”

  I yank open the door to the pod and climb inside first. He follows. With the liquid turned to powder, there’s room enough for the two of us. But only barely.

  I knock the halo out of the way, and we cram our bodies together, pressing against each other side by side, as tightly as possible. Liam grabs the pod door and closes it. I hear a hiss as it begins to pressurize. He passes me the oxygen mask. We’re going to have to share it.

  I’m worried Clara will put a stop to our escape, or that the pod will malfunction because we’re not frozen. But I’m hoping that because everything is so regimented and automated, the pod will stick to its timetable no matter what.

  With a reverberating clang a tentacle slams down on the metal catwalk outside where we were standing just seconds earlier. Does it know we’re in here?

  I grab Liam harder, pressing my head into his shoulder as I hand him the oxygen mask.

  Another tentacle slams down, cracking across the front of our living coffin like a whip. This time the pod rocks back and forth, twisting and tumbling us into each other.

  Then something starts lifting us into the air.

  I shriek because I think it’s one of the miniature feelers at first, but the motion is too smooth. Then I realize our pod has been hoisted up by some sort of crane.

  I’m guessing that we’re about to be taken to whatever vehicle is going to ship us off the wheel. I wish I could see where we’re headed, but of course there’s no video screen on the inside of the pod.

  I hold on to Liam so tightly, my nails feel like they’re going to rip through his suit and into his skin. His strong arms are wrapped around me, holding and protecting me. We keep passing the mask back and forth, but there’s enough air trapped in the pod that we can breathe without the mask. At least for now.

  I wonder what’s happening to Gadya. If she’s fighting for her life. My mind can find no safe place.

  Our pod sways and then stabilizes again.

  “We’re going to be okay,” Liam murmurs into my ear. He’s trying to keep me calm.

  I know this could be the end. I sense that we’re s
winging high up in the air, probably still somewhere inside the huge domed structure of the specimen archive.

  I shut my eyes.

  Then, with a jolt and a clank, our pod comes to an abrupt, puzzling halt.

  I hear a clicking noise, as though our pod has docked onto something. Perhaps we’re inside another, larger vehicle. Then, a moment later, I hear another click. Then another.

  “Where are we?” I whisper to Liam.

  “Not sure. Maybe in a transport aircraft?”

  “I hope so.” I wonder how the aircraft will leave the archive. Maybe through a subterranean runway, or even a retractable opening in the roof.

  I hear the muffled roar of jet engines starting up outside the pod. Everything starts shaking. We really must be inside a larger aircraft now. There’s no way to know for sure, of course, but that’s the sensation I get. It’s terrifying but exhilarating. I grab Liam tighter as the noise of the engines grows louder.

  “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” I say to him, suddenly blurting the words into his shoulder. I had to say it, in case our pod blows up or something. It’s the first time I’ve told anyone I love them, other than my mom or dad when I was little. But I don’t know if he heard me or not, because the words got muffled, and he doesn’t say anything back.

  Our pod starts shaking like it’s falling to pieces, as the aircraft—or whatever vehicle we’re inside—starts picking up speed. My body is so tight against Liam that it hurts. Are we going to survive without the protective fluid?

  “Alenna!” I hear Liam yell. “Hold on!”

  A second later, the roar reaches a deafening pitch and the vehicle surges forward, like we’re blazing up some steep runway out of the archive.

  I can’t see. I can’t hear. And I can’t breathe. But I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I did my best. I didn’t give up. And in the end I found Liam again.

  If we’re about to die, I guess I’m okay with it.

  Then, sickeningly, we’re off the ground and rocketing through the air. Everything is shaking, vibrating, and churning. I’m still wrapped around Liam, my arms and legs entwined with his.

  There’s a loud boom as we continue shooting forward. I feel crushing pressure against my chest and my face. We’re moving incredibly fast.

  The journey has begun, and there’s no stopping it.

  I cease screaming. I’m still alive. I feel something underneath us shift. We’re spinning forward as the aircraft containing our pod cuts through the air like a blade.

  Please let us live, I think. Please let us make it out of here, so we can help the others.

  The aircraft finally stabilizes. The air is feeling thinner, and we pass the oxygen mask between us. My body feels bruised. Just as I start relaxing for an instant, Liam begins kicking at the pod’s door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, startled.

  “We have to find out where we are. Get a look around. If we’re on one of the transport airplanes like I hope, maybe we can take control of it. Free the other kids.”

  He kicks at the base of the door so hard that it springs open, no match for an unfrozen occupant. I grab on to him and follow, as he staggers out of the pod.

  I immediately see that we are indeed inside a cavernous, rattling aircraft, like some sort of ancient cargo plane. Just as Liam predicted. The air is thin and cold here, and my chest burns with every breath.

  All around us are rows of other pods, locked onto circular metal devices to keep them from bouncing around. There are about forty pods total on this aircraft. No sign of any other people. I imagine the plane is automated, like everything else in the Silver Shore.

  “Liam, I’m scared,” I tell him, struggling for air.

  He grabs my hand. “Me too, but we’re gonna be fine.”

  The plane has no windows, just sloping metal sides. But then I spot a small video monitor screen near the front. There’s no access to the cockpit. I’m not sure this aircraft even has one. There’s merely a large metal bulkhead blocking our path. We rush up the aisle toward the monitor together, clutching at metal railings.

  “Look at this,” I hear Liam yell.

  I stare at the screen as I steady myself. On it, I see what looks like a field of blue. It takes me a second to realize that it’s sky.

  Wisps of clouds shoot past, like tendrils of cigarette smoke. I don’t know how fast we’re going, but it’s faster than I’ve ever moved before in my life.

  The plane judders. The video screen suddenly flares with static and then shifts its position. I realize the camera has randomly pivoted downward by about ninety degrees. Now I can see a verdant landmass directly below us.

  “It’s the wheel,” I breathe.

  I see it now, in all its harsh splendor. The island sprawls out below us as we zoom overhead, acres of trees flying past at breathtaking velocity. It looks so green and lush from up here. So tropical, and weirdly peaceful. We must have already passed over the gray zone. It’s hard to imagine there are so many friends and enemies still running around below us, fighting and killing one another over nothing.

  I wonder if David managed to escape getting frozen, given his resourcefulness. Maybe he’s still out there somewhere. I hope that he is, and that somehow he’s okay.

  It’s amazing to get this vantage point of the place where I’ve spent the last few weeks. From above, it doesn’t look scary and terrible. But Liam and I know the truth.

  Even though I’m transfixed by the island view, I can’t wait to be over open water. Until then, I’ll keep thinking that a feeler is going to fly up from the wheel and battle our aircraft.

  As we move faster and faster, the trees give way to white sand and blue-green ocean. The aircraft starts rising higher, the ocean’s choppy whitecaps dropping farther below us. I feel dizzy. We’re probably the first kids to make this journey awake.

  I realize that our chances of finding help are slim. Wherever we’re headed, the people there intend to dissect our bodies. No doubt we’ll face more battles.

  The video screen shifts to straight ahead again, seemingly of its own will, and now the camera just shows blue skies and clouds. I wonder if this plane is how we were taken to the island, while we were still unconscious after the ECT, but before the feelers dispersed us across its surface. Even now that I understand some of the island’s mechanics, the purpose of the wheel is still a mystery to me.

  Liam and I continue to hold each other as the plane blasts its way through the air. There’s almost something comforting about the noise of this airplane, like being in a giant womb. Except for the part where we could crash and die at any second.

  But we don’t crash. Instead we stand there watching the screen.

  Liam finally turns to me. “I heard what you said earlier. In the pod, I mean.”

  I start to blush. So he heard me after all, but he didn’t say anything back. I feel a little embarrassed. “I thought we were going to die. That’s why I said it.”

  He takes my hand as I look up at him. “It’s okay. You know I feel the same way.” I hug him tightly. “Right before the feeler took me, at the very last instant, you were the only person I was thinking about. And then when I woke up, you were right there. The first face that I saw.” He kisses the top of my forehead. “I never thought I’d fall in love on the wheel.”

  I shut my eyes. “Me neither.”

  We hold each other for a long time.

  It finally becomes clear we’re not going to be landing anytime soon. Yet neither of us wants to go back into the pod, because we don’t want to lose our connection to the outside world. I tell Liam everything that happened since he got taken: about Veidman, Sinxen, and the barrier, and the Monk being Minister Harka. Liam listens in sadness, horror, and amazement.

  Eventually, we explore the entire aircraft and survey the other sealed pods, coming back to the aircraft’s view screen every few minutes to make sure everything looks okay. We’re unable to thaw the other occupants, even though we try all kinds of differ
ent methods. But what worked in the specimen archive doesn’t work here, and without Clara’s intervention, the occupants remain frozen.

  We also search for any items we can use as weapons when we land, but the plane yields nothing that isn’t bolted or welded down.

  “I think we’re losing altitude,” Liam finally calls over the engine noise.

  I tilt my head to look at the monitor but still see only blue sky. I’m guessing we’ve been airborne for several hours. “We’re coming down?” I feel my gut clench up. I’m not ready.

  “We’re moving hyperfast. We might have gone a couple thousand miles already. We’d better get back into the pod, so we’re safe when we land.” I can hear the tension in his voice.

  I wish we could stay in the air forever. Suspended in the clouds, like a twinkling star, or like one of those butterflies from the island river, never having to face what’s in store for us. Never having to face the consequences for leaving the wheel.

  The images on the video screen suddenly start sliding, and I realize the camera is moving again.

  “Whoa!” I yell, not understanding what I’m seeing. Now we’re just staring at a rippling golden surface.

  Liam leans forward, scrutinizing the image. “I think those are sand dunes.”

  “What? We’re already over land?” I stare at the monitor, perplexed and scared.

  The image starts to make more sense the farther we go, and I realize that, inexplicably, we’re flying over an unbroken stretch of desert. It’s unpopulated and completely sparse. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like the water just turned into sand underneath the aircraft without us noticing.

  More desert unfurls, like an endless stretch of unrolled canvas. Somewhere in the distance is the horizon.

  “Let’s go back now,” Liam says. We tentatively move down the center of the plane and find our pod.

  I take one final glance back at the view screen. We’re so low now that I can see dust clouds rising up from the sand, like banks of fog.

  My ears get stuffy for a second, and then they clear as we keep descending. Wherever we’re going, I sense that we’re almost there. Maybe just a few minutes away.