Parched

by Georgia Clark

  “Hey!” Naz yells.

  “Where is everyone?” Ling calls.

  “I’m here!” I say. I sling my rifle onto my back and put both hands out in front of me to move gingerly in the direction of her voice. I know what the blackness means.

  The Trust has arrived.

  I hear a scuffle. Something falling. Something heavy. “Oof.”

  “Benji?” Ling calls, voice rising in fear. “Benji?”

  No reply. I pull my knife but have no way of defending myself against an attacker I can’t see. My breathing is shallow and panicked. The darkness magnifies every sound, and I hear swift but heavy footsteps. We are not alone.

  A fumble, a click, then a tiny flare of orange light. Ling and Naz are right next to me, Naz holding her lighter. Illuminated in the darkness are a circle of four razer tips pointed straight at us. We are surrounded.

  “Lights,” orders a tinny voice.

  I wince at the sudden brightness.

  “Drop your weapons,” the voice says again. Blinking my eyes open, I grasp the full horror of our situation. Naz, Ling, and I are surrounded by four Tranqs; the human guards of the Trust. Helmets cover their entire faces, giving them night vision. Farther up the corridor, Benji is on the ground, a fifth Tranq pointing a razer straight at his head. “Away from you,” barks the voice again.

  Naz, Ling, and I slowly put our weapons on the ground. Where is Achilles? I flick my eyes to Ling. She returns my gaze, steely and even, but with no suggestion of what to do except obey.

  “All of them. And your comms.”

  The razers. The rifles. The flamethrower. Smoke bombs. Grenades. The Tranquils crush our comms with their boots. A wave of panic hits me. How are we going to coordinate our escape? Then I realize how stupid that is. We aren’t going to escape.

  “Hands behind your head. Now!”

  “L-Look guys,” I stutter, my mouth making decisions without first consulting my brain. “There’s obviously been a misunderstanding—”

  “Shut up,” barks one of them, slamming the side of his gun into the cut on my head. Warm blood flows into my eyes. My head rings like a bell with the pain.

  “Tess!” Ling cries, reaching for me. A brandished razer stops her. Slowly, she puts her shaking hands behind her head. Naz does the same.

  “How does Gyan want them?” one of them asks, and I’m surprised to hear it’s a woman’s voice.

  “Preferably alive. Dead if they give us any trouble.”

  A snort. “I’d say these lot qualify as troublesome.”

  Ling lets out a low growl and the Tranq immediately aims her weapon at her. I lunge forward to put myself between them. “Really?” I snarl through gritted teeth. Blood drips from the bottom of my chin onto the floor. “You’d kill three unarmed teenage girls? Your mothers would be so proud—”

  “I said shut up!”

  The cold tip of the razer presses into my sweaty forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating pain. I hear the loud sound of razer fire and exhale, hard. Nothing. No pain. Opening my eyes, I see smoke coming from the female Tranq’s body. Her gun slips from my forehead and her body drops to the ground. Behind her, a wide-eyed Achilles stands holding a razer pistol. He looks completely terrified.

  Before the rest of the Tranquils even have time to turn around, Achilles shoots another one, hitting him right in the back.

  Mayhem explodes around us.

  The Tranquils spin to return fire. Achilles lets out a shriek and flees back around the corner. Pulses miss him by inches, exploding the wall behind him. Naz, Ling, and I drop to the ground, scrambling desperately for our razers. From the corner of my eye, I see Benji whip his leg up to kick his captor hard in the side of the head.

  Naz is the first to grab her gun, rolling out of the way of a blast of white light, then returning fire while still on her back. Another Tranquil collapses—but not before his last blast of fire hits the top of her right arm. Naz screams in pain, eyes rolling back. The gun falls from her hand. Ling dashes to grab it.

  I grab my razer and scramble to my feet, head pounding savagely from the reopened wound. A Tranquil darts in front of me and I take immediate aim. At the same time, another Tranquil takes aim at me. Movement in the corridor stops.

  Benji is on his feet, his gun trained on the Tranquil who is aiming at me. The Tranquil I’m aiming my razer at is aiming at Benji. The four of us stand in a tense square: enemy, friend, enemy, friend. Ling is on her feet, her razer switching focus between the two Tranquils.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, kids,” the Tranquil aiming at Benji warns. “Surrender now, and no one gets hurt.”

  “You just said you wanted us dead or alive,” I mutter, my aim steady. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

  Naz cries out, clutching her arm. She can’t help. Achilles has disappeared.

  Unsure of what to do, I catch Benji’s eye. He gives me a small, sad smile. “Benji, no—” I cry.

  Before I can move, Benji pulls his trigger. The Tranquil aiming at me screams in pain. Quick as a flash, I shoot the Tranq aiming at Benji—but not before my target fires off one shot at Benji. Both Tranquils and Benji fall to the floor, bodies smoking. I’m the only one left standing, gasping for breath, every muscle taut.

  “Benji!” Ling races to him and flips him over. Smoke drifts up from his skin in wisps, forming a delicate garland. At least his death was quick. But Benji really died hours ago, in this same corridor.

  Naz is still writhing on her back, clutching her arm and making a low, guttural sound.

  “Achilles!” I yell, scooping up my knife then running over to help Naz. “Let’s move!”

  The slightest sound of shoes on the squeaky floor has me whirling around and taking aim. A petrified-looking scientist whom I don’t recognize stands with his hands sky-high, hiding behind a potted palm tree.

  “Don’t shoot!” he cries.

  “Don’t give me a reason to,” I say, hooking Naz’s good arm around my neck and hauling her to her feet. “Just tell me where I can find the mirror matter.”

  “Wh-What’s that?” he stutters.

  “You know what it is!” I scream, brandishing my gun at him. “Tell me where it is!” We do not have time for this—soon this floor will be teeming with more Tranqs than we can possibly handle.

  Ling strides past me, heading straight to the petrified scientist. She shoves the tip of one of the Tranquil’s huge razers under his chin, forcing it up. “I’ve seen two of my best friends die tonight,” she says, her voice spookily calm. “Killing you would really help with the healing process.”

  Ling is over the edge. I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing.

  “The roof,” he whispers, pointing up. “It’s on the roof. We’re moving it to the Towers.”

  Naz reaches for the flamethrower, moaning in pain as she tries to strap it across her body. There is no way she’ll be able to aim that thing properly with a dud arm.

  “I’ve got it.” Ling snatches the flamethrower from Naz.

  “You know how to use it?” Naz croaks.

  Ling aims the weapon up the corridor and fires. With a deep whoooosh, a massive stream of orange flame shoots out in an uncontrolled burst. It knocks her back a few steps and sets fire to the wall.

  “I’ll learn,” she says. “Let’s go.”

  Achilles is on his hands and knees scooping up the smoke bombs and grenades.

  “Leave them!” I yell back, starting to run toward the stairwell we’d come from. “Just get the razers and the rifles!”

  Naz barely lets her injured arm slow her down, even though she must be in excruciating pain. We move as fast as we can up the stairs, Ling and Achilles behind us. We are only one flight from the roof.

  The blood from the cut on my head keeps getting in my eyes. In desperation, I shove my hand into my pocket, hoping to find something to staunch the flow. My fingers find silk. All the chaos and pain stops for just a second as I pull out the red scarf Hunt
er had found by the river. It is exactly what I need right now. I don’t have time to ponder the irony. Wrapping the scarf once, twice around my head, I tie a quick knot, but not before his face flashes in my mind.

  Where are you now? Do you know Kudzu is back?

  I told myself I would be able to destroy Hunter. People I care about have died because I said I could go through with this.

  You can do it, Tessendra. You have to.

  We reach the top of the stairs. The door in front of us is marked ROOF ACCESS. Beyond it is the sound of humming motors and people yelling orders.

  “Stay here,” I tell Naz.

  “Screw you, Rockwood,” Naz mutters through clenched teeth. “I’m covering you.”

  “Okay.” I thrust my razer at her and grab the one Ling throws to me. “Don’t get smoked.”

  She snorts and checks the sights.

  I tell Naz to watch the stairs. Then Ling and I cautiously push open the door, no more than an inch.

  A flurry of activity greets us. Scientists, Quicks, and a dozen-odd Tranquils, all in the process of moving equipment and boxes and messy stacks of scratch up the wide ramp of a huge blue-and-white Trust cargo ship that’s parked on the far side of the roof. Everything is being transported from a freight elevator that opens directly onto the roof about fifty feet from where we stand. The cargo ship’s motors whip a dirty wind around the roof, sending loose pieces of scratch flying. White steam pours out from inside it—refrigeration or decontamination gas.

  I can’t see Hunter. But I also can’t see the mirror matter. Are we too late?

  “Careful, careful,” I hear a scientist cry in a panic. “That specimen is extremely delicate!”

  It’s the scarred mutant boy I saw in the cloning lab. He’s being transported onto the ship by the Tranquils, his case now horizontal, his pale body sloshing in the thick blue liquid.

  “Who—what is that?” Ling asks, staring at the mutant. “Is that Aevum?”

  I don’t want to lie, so I say nothing. The concerned scientists shuffle with the case toward the ship, and suddenly, I see it.

  The mirror matter.

  On a cart, about halfway between our doorway and the ship. It’s in a case within a case, but this one must be new as the sides are all intact. Scientists hover around it somewhat uselessly. I nudge Ling and nod in its direction, heart pounding. Ling shifts the flamethrower from her back to her front, eyes fixed on the mirror matter. “Found you,” she murmurs softly.

  “Five agents down on the sixth floor!” yells a nearby Tranq. “Fugitives on the loose. Fall out!”

  The mass of Tranquils races for the rooftop door. Adrenaline surges through me, white-hot and powerful. They’re coming straight for us.

  Ling’s eyes meet mine, pulsing with grim fire. Her words come through lips smeared with dark blood. “Child’s play.”

  Ling bursts through the rooftop door to meet the Tranquils head on. With an animalistic scream, she shoots out a massive wave of orange fire. The first three Tranquils light up, flames finding instant purchase on their uniforms, and they drop to the ground. I’m right behind Ling, managing to take out one more Tranquil with my razer before they realize what’s happening. Immediately, the roof lights up with blasts of lethal razer fire. As reliable as the sun, the gleaming black-and-silver Quicks come for us, a frightening display of precision and speed. Using air rifles, Achilles and Naz blow away both the oncoming Quicks and the Tranquils.

  A blast of razer fire shatters the mutant’s case. In a gush of blue liquid, he flops out onto the roof, a fish on a dry land. “No!” A gaggle of scientists rushes to his side.

  Achilles shrieks, his cry piercing the roar of the ship’s motor. He’s been hit. His rifle drops to the ground as he clutches his thigh.

  “Get back in the stairwell!” I yell at him. Achilles slides his razer to Ling, who has her hands full with the flamethrower.

  The sound of exploding glass. The mirror matter case. It’s been hit by razer fire, causing more squawks of panic from the scientists. Through the smoke, I see the baton of silver liquid hit the ground and begin rolling toward the edge of the building.

  “Naz, cover me!” Amid flying rounds of razer fire, I sprint across the roof for the mirror matter. It is almost at the edge. I dive forward onto my stomach, just as it goes over, just before it starts to fall. My fingers reach out and grab it. I have it. I scramble to my feet. With a sudden fierce joy, I realize that we can stop Project Aevum. The power to do it is literally in my hands.

  “Ling!” I whip around triumphantly.

  That’s when I see him. Standing at the top of the cargo ship’s wide ramp, amid the billowing white steam.

  Hunter.

  For a second, I just stare. Then a blast of razer fire forces me to take cover behind a large metal container on wheels.

  “Tess!” Ling brandishes the enormous flamethrower in my direction. “Drop it! I need a clean shot!”

  Risking being hit by a razer, I glance back at Hunter from the edge of the container.

  Our eyes lock. His face is frozen in pure shock.

  “Rockwood!” Naz picks off another Quick, shooting it over the roof’s edge. “What are you waiting for?”

  I hold the brilliant silver baton out in front of me, ready to toss it at Ling’s feet. But I can’t drag my eyes from his.

  I can’t do it.

  I can’t kill him.

  “Tess!” Ling screams. Her eyes dart wildly between Hunter and me, expression changing from confusion to horrified understanding. “Drop it! Do it now!” Then, in anguish: “Please!”

  “I’m sorry,” I gasp, dropping to my knees. “I can’t.”

  “Dammit Rockwood!” yells Naz.

  “Tess!” Hunter’s voice cuts through the chaos. He races down the ship’s ramp toward me.

  Ling swings the flamethrower at Hunter.

  I scream “No!” but it’s too late. Hunter runs straight into a giant burst of flame that encapsulates his entire body. “Hunter!” He’s on fire.

  Through the flames, I catch a whirl of yellow robes disappearing into the mouth of the ship.

  This is the last thing I see before a razer blast smashes me in the chest, flinging me backward.

  Then there is pain.

  Then there is darkness.

  part 4

  chapter 15

  A strange, shimmering swirl of blue and green emerges from the fog. Such beautiful, brilliant hues; colors that move. Groggy and weak, I blink, trying to see through the hazy mist. Feathers? My eyes sharpen, and the soft, fuzzy swirl finally comes into focus.

  A peacock is looking at me. Its beady black eyes blink curiously. It takes a few unhurried steps toward me, its claws click-clacking on a polished marble floor.

  The air is as cold as a crypt and just as silent. I am coming to in a stylish if uncomfortable chair, made of what feels like glass.

  As soon as I move my head, I feel an absence. My hair. It’s gone. My head has been shaved. I’m dressed in a white shirt and white pants that look and feel clean. My skin is clean; no traces of dried blood or dirt or smoke. My hand flies to my throat and I feel a sharp surge of joy—I still have my mom’s necklace.

  I scramble for the last thing I remember, and I fight the urge to cry out his name.

  Hunter.

  Hunter yelling my name and starting to run for me across Simutech’s roof. Running to save me? Or save himself?

  Ling setting him on fire, a horrifying beacon burning against a dark sweep of night. Did that kill him? Yes. Of course it did. Not even Hunter’s strong skin could’ve survived that. Had Ling and Naz and Achilles been killed on the roof too?

  I remember Lana’s body falling almost gracefully at the Quicks’ feet. I remember Benji, sacrificing himself to save me. And I remember Ling’s gut-wrenching look of betrayal. A wave of shame and guilt crashes over me.

  The peacock gazes at me, unafraid. Its long swoop of a tail hangs out behind its sleek blue body, trailing the floor like
a roll of rich, embroidered silk. Beyond the bird is a floor-to-ceiling window. And through the huge window, far, far below, beyond the white walls of the city, is the Badlands. Hard red earth lit by the equally harsh midday sun. It is blinding. I groan a little and have to look away. I know where I am.

  “Curtis.” A man’s voice echoes around the high ceilings, self-assured and mellifluous. I know that voice. Every Edenite knows that voice. “It sounds like our guest is awake. Now, come here, Curtis.” A rattle, like the sound of dry beans in a can. The peacock blinks in the direction of the sound, glancing between me and the owner of the voice. “Come on.” Another rattle.

  The truth of the situation flies at me like knives I am too weak to dodge. I am alive. I am in the Three Towers, in Gyan’s private quarters. I touch the cut on my forehead and feel an inch of stitches, bumpy and foreign under my fingertips. The thought of the Trust operating on me without my knowledge induces a spike of terror.

  Another sharp rattle makes me jump. The peacock decides the noise is more interesting than I am. With a slow, relaxed stalk, it begins walking toward it. The chair suddenly swivels a full 180 degrees, revealing the head of the Trust, the most powerful man in all of Eden: Gyan. He is feeding a peacock.

  In his trademark yellow robes and flat straw sandals, Gyan is standing in front of a polished wooden desk, twice the size of Abel’s dining room table. As I glance around, I see everything about this space is large and airy and impressive. I try to take it all in without looking like I’m scoping it out for potential weapons or an exit, which, of course, I am. It doesn’t give me much hope.

  The walls are high and white and hung with artwork: loops of snow melting on black rock, a pretty painting of colorful dancers swirling through a plaza. A large handblown glass vase sits on a low coffee table, filled with fresh flowers.

  Various plants of all shapes and sizes are scattered throughout the room, hanging from the ceiling or arranged on polished wooden shelves. It all feels sophisticated and alive and completely terrifying.

  “Good boy,” Gyan murmurs appreciatively, dropping a few pieces of grain on the floor. The peacock pecks at them, its beak hitting the floor with short, precise clicks. Gyan addresses me casually, as if talking to an old friend. “Aren’t they magnificent? They can live up to forty years, you know. Obviously, I could have clones modified to live longer, but there’s something much more satisfying about raising a real peacock from birth.” A pause as he scatters more pieces of grain onto the floor. “Would you believe they come from the same family of birds as chickens?”