Parched

by Georgia Clark

  “We meet at the safe house,” she says, swinging her arms in a circle. “There’s an old cottage in the Farms, between a lemon grove and a strawberry field, a few miles from border control. And if not there, I guess we meet in the Badlands. Any suggestions?”

  Hunter is walking slowly up the hill, away from me. “The Salt Flats,” I say softly. “In the west. We can meet there.” But even as I say we, I am struck by the feeling that Hunter will not be with me, no matter where we go.

  Ling says, “On the dam wall, you take the left. I’ll take the middle, Bo will take the right. Let’s try to space out as evenly as we can.” I nod. She tips her head to indicate I should stand next to her. “Then get ready.”

  Hunter pauses near the top of the hill, just out of sight of the Quicks. Bo and Ling take their marks, eyes ahead of them, bodies low like sprinters ready to run. My heart is galloping in my chest. I close my eyes for second. Please, don’t let anyone die.

  When I raise my head, I see Hunter, as strong and certain as a beacon, standing at the top of the hill. He raises his hand, all five fingers spread wide, and uses them to silently count us down. Five fingers become four.

  Three. Adrenaline charges through me like a street fight.

  Two. I can hear Ling next to me, already panting.

  One.

  His arm whips down to his side. Hunter shouts, “Run!”

  chapter 22

  We burst forward. Our feet rip at the grass as we streak up the hill. When we reach the top, I see the Quicks shuffling like sheep away from us, toward the scrub on the far side of the dam, eyes a piercing white. Hunter is serfing them, but I do not have time to look at him as I run past. We slip and skid down the incline and race toward the top of the dam.

  I find my place on the left. Ling is already next to me, fifteen feet between us, and tying the end of her rope in a secure knot around the iron railing. I drop the long spool of rope at my feet and start to tie the end in a sailor’s knot, my fingers finding the twisting, complex pattern with ingrained muscle memory.

  I catch an arc of movement: Bo’s rope sailing over the edge. Ling is one step ahead, swinging herself over the iron railing and pulling back on her rope as confidently as if she were climbing over a fence. A loud vvvvvvvvvvvv echoes through the cavernous space below us as she shoots down on the rope. A few moments later, I hear another. Bo.

  I finish the knot, and pull back on it to test my weight. It tightens, creaking as I pull. It’s solid. I toss the spool of rope over the edge. It seems to unfurl in graceful slow motion as it tumbles to the bottom. Ling and Bo are already down there, yanking Red Devils from their chains.

  Holding the rope tight, I swing one leg over the railing so I’m sitting on it, one leg dangling over the edge. I don’t look down. Still, the vertigo makes my head spin. I am so terrifyingly far from the ground. I grit my teeth and lean back on the rope until it takes my whole weight. Holding tight, I swing my other leg over. Both feet are planted on the bottom of the iron railing. Below me is nothing but empty air for a hundred feet. Behind me is the aqueduct, open and empty.

  I drop my feet from the railing and let my arms take my entire weight. I wait for the rope to settle, and then get a loose hold of it between my feet. If I’m dangling too wildly, I’ll smash into the dam on the way down. All I focus on is holding the rope exactly as Lana showed me: not too tight but not so loose that it does nothing to break my fall. The rope steadies. I loosen my grip.

  Vvvvvvvvvvvv! The world blurs around me as I shoot down, down, down. My hands burn, even with the roping gloves. My stomach shoots to my mouth. I’m going too fast.

  “Slow down!” Ling screams.

  I tighten my hands on the rope, pain whipping through me. The ground slams into me, knocking the wind out of me.

  “Five minutes!” Achilles’ voice rings out. He sounds neutral; totally calm.

  “Are you okay, Tess?” Bo calls.

  “Yes!” I call back, stumbling to my feet. I’m delirious with elation, even though my hands are smarting with pain. I can’t believe I made it down. The top of the dam looks like it’s on top of the sky from here. “I’m okay!”

  Ling and Bo already have their first Red Devils stuck in place, and have started climbing back up. I yank the bottom Devil off the chain and hold it flat against the dam. Then, with one quick flick of my wrist, I turn the handle hard to the right. I hear a click, and when I pull my hand away, it stays there. The first Devil is set.

  I hop back up the rope and start climbing. I climb fast, buzzed from the jump down. My feet find the rope like it’s an extension of my body. I’m moving as smooth as a snake through grass.

  “Stop there, Tess!” Bo calls from below me. Ling and Bo are still climbing. I’m the first to the middle, but only by a second. Holding the rope with my left hand, I jerk the second bomb off the chain around me. The rope sways a little with the movement and I have to stay still for it to settle. Then I press the bomb flat against the dam. The arm supporting my weight starts to shake with the exertion. I grind my teeth, remembering what Bo said about the bomb needing to be exactly flat against the dam. I twist the handle to attach. For a second I think I haven’t laid it flat enough and that when I let it go, it’ll slip past me and fall to the bottom. But when I take my hand away, it sticks like a limpet to the wall.

  “Four minutes!” Achilles’ voice, again.

  Now for the top. I’m starting to tire. I glance up, just once, and see Achilles’ head poking over the railing. Sweat pours down my brow as I climb, finding the foot lock, pulling myself up, finding the foot lock again. My breath comes in great wheezes, and my arms ache so much it’s as if they’ve been shot by a razer.

  “Stop there, Ling!” I hear Bo call. Looking up, I see Ling, a good distance above me, attaching her last Devil to the dam.

  “Tess, hurry,” Bo calls. I pull out every last reserve and finally make it in line with Ling’s and Bo’s bombs. Once again, I perform the ritual. Lay it flat, twist, release.

  “Three minutes!” Achilles calls. There’s the slightest note of anxiety in his voice.

  Ling is over the railing. Bo isn’t far behind.

  I’m so tired. My arms hurt so much. I dangle for a moment, teary-eyed from pure exhaustion. But I have to move. My body screams at me with every pull of my arms, but it’s not enough to make me climb like before. But I am climbing. I’m nearly at the top.

  “Tess?” Bo calls.

  “I’m okay!” I wheeze. Finally, finally, the railing comes into view. Bo grips my forearms and in one swift, strong movement, he hauls me over the railing. My feet are unsteady on firm ground and it takes me a second to find my balance. We did it. We’re out. Ling stands panting, bent over with her hands on her knees at the top of the ridge, next to Achilles. Hunter is all the way over in the scrub on the other side, surrounded by white-eyed Quicks. He’s grouping the robots as far from us as possible.

  “Achilles, activate the bombs!” Bo orders.

  I hear a series of tiny beeps. When I glance down at the dam, I see all the bombs have lit up. They almost look beautiful, all nine glowing ruby red in a nearly perfect square.

  “Two minutes to impact!” Achilles calls back.

  Bo yells, “Everyone out!”

  We sprint back to the clearing. Success courses through my veins, hot and wild and real. When I reach our gear, Ling and Bo are already scooping up the air rifles. I glimpse Achilles disappearing down the animal track, back toward the parked buzzcar. The sky has turned pearly, the clearing no longer in shadow. Dawn is coming.

  “Tess, go!” Ling yells.

  “Where’s Hunter?” I pant, glancing at the top of the hill.

  “Go!” she repeats, pushing me in the direction of the track.

  “Hunter!” I scream. “Where are you?”

  I hear his voice: it sounds as if he’s still on the other side of the lake, and as if it’s taking him a great effort to call to me. “Get . . . to the . . . car . . .”

  B
o follows Achilles, racing into the birch trees. The slow beeping of the bombs echoes from the dam wall below.

  “Tess, c’mon!” Ling grabs my arm. “No time!”

  I twist out of it. Where’s Hunter? Before she can stop me, I’m racing back to the top of the hill. When I get there, my heart stops.

  The hundred-odd Quicks are clustered together and immobile, still with their eyes safely burning white. But Hunter is no longer standing. He is on the ground, his hands pressed into the earth as he tries to drag himself away from them, his long legs paralyzed and useless. “No!” I cry, starting toward him. “Hunter!” He lifts his head wearily and moves his mouth, but no sound comes out. Then, as I watch helplessly, he collapses to lie lifelessly in the grass.

  As one, the Quicks’ eyes change. Snow white becomes blood-red.

  “No,” I whisper, horrified. “Oh, please, no.”

  I’m still standing there, inert on the hillside, when their heads swivel in the direction of Hunter’s fallen body. I’m still standing there, chest rising and falling in unadulterated fear, as they move to surround him. And I’m still standing there when the closet Quick bends down to pick him up as if he weighs nothing at all.

  His head lolls back, arms and legs dangling. The Quick turns in the direction of the aqueduct and in a smooth, easy motion, tosses Hunter’s body over the edge. I stifle a cry, clamping my hand to my mouth. This must be a nightmare. It doesn’t feel real to see Hunter’s body sail down, down, down, one hundred feet to the bottom of the dam. At the last second, I have to squeeze my eyes shut, because I cannot survive watching him smash into the concrete. Instead, I see my mom’s body, hurtling through space, smacking against my bedroom wall. I hear a soft thwack and then a tiny clink. I open my eyes and see the clink was the mirror matter. I can just make it out, a tiny scrap of movement spinning across the concrete. Hunter’s body lies motionless near the mouth of the aqueduct. Blue blood pools around his head. His arms and legs are splayed like a corpse.

  He is a corpse.

  I have seconds before the Quicks see me.

  When the dam explodes, Hunter will be washed into the Badlands, separated from the mirror matter forever. He needs it to recharge. If he doesn’t recharge, he’s dead. But he’s probably dead already; if he’s run himself completely dry, if there’s nothing at all left in that tube, he’s dead and I can’t save him. With the Quicks no longer being serfed, they’ll execute me as soon as they spot me. He’s dead, Tess. He’s gone.

  I have to leave him.

  But I can’t. I remember the look on his face when I flinched after he tried to touch me. So sure that he’d lost me. My hands ball into fists. He cannot die believing that.

  As soon as I start running toward the rope that’s still tied to the iron railing, the Quicks see me. They cover ground five times faster than I can. I’m only a few feet from the rope and already they’re flocking fast across the top of the dam wall toward me. I reach the rope, heart snapping like a rubber band, and swing myself over the edge. Black-and-silver hands grab for me. I cry out as they miss by millimeters. Then I’m dangling, once again at the top of the rope. I loosen my grip and begin to slide. The bright red bombs flash past me on both sides. One, two, three, all of them beeping an unstoppable countdown. I tighten my grip as I near the bottom, then I hit the ground with a hard thud. Scrambling to my feet, I race for the mirror matter. My steps echo around the bottom of the dam. The tube looks empty, but I don’t have time to study it. I snatch it and race back to Hunter, dropping to my knees, drenching them in blue blood. He’s on his stomach, the hole in the back of his head wide open, spilling blue liquid. No lights blink inside. When I edge the tube in, it’s not sucked in like last time; I have to close the flap of skin myself, pressing it into place until it seems to stick shut. I look to the top of the dam and see the Quicks lined up along the railing, watching me with eyes that cut paths of crimson light through the early dawn. I have no plan for what I’ll do at the top. But we need to get out of here before the dam explodes. The Devil closest to me flicks from forty seconds to thirty-nine to thirty-eight.

  I haul at Hunter’s body and am shocked then overjoyed to find he barely weighs fifty pounds. I cry out in relief. I can lift him! I’m on my feet and wearing him like a cape, holding his arms across my chest. My hands are sticky with blue. I run for the rope and realize that I don’t know how I’ll climb and keep him on my back. Then I hear a clatter behind me. Metal on concrete. I whirl around. A dozen Quicks are behind me. A dozen more leap down to land squarely on their feet, their arms spread out for balance. They fan out and begin to advance.

  I shrink against the dam wall, fumbling for the rope. “No,” I gasp, my voice rising in fright. “Get away from me!”

  They’re ten feet away. Then five. Like lightning, I pull Mack from my belt and stab him out in front of me. The Quick closest to me pauses, eyes moving to assess this threat. It’s not a threat, but I thrust it forward again like it is. The Quick raises its head again and I almost see smugness in its red eyes, although I know this is impossible. It knows I have nothing to fight with. It takes another step, now only an arm’s-length away. I scream as it lunges for me, impossibly fast—then it jerks back and flies across the dam floor with a crack. A second one follows, hurtling away from me.

  I look around wildly. Ling and Achilles are aiming air rifles at the Quicks from our buzzcar, which is hovering above me. Bo is at the controls. A length of rope lands at my feet.

  Ling calls, “Grab it!”

  Shoving Mack back into my belt, I dart for the rope, hearing but not seeing more of the Quicks get blown back by the air rifles. The pops from the rifles keep them at bay. Heart crashing in my ears, I gather up the excess rope to make sure the Quicks can’t pull me back down with its end, then twist my hand for a solid grip. I use the other hand to cling to Hunter’s ragdoll body.

  I scream, “Go!”

  The buzzcar darts up, just as dozens more Quicks leap down. It’s only by pulling my feet up that they miss snatching my legs. But we move so fast, I almost lose my grip. “Careful!” I shout, and the car slows. I see the timers on the bombs. Eleven.

  Ten.

  Nine.

  We’re halfway out. We’re going to make it.

  My hand slips. Hunter’s sticky blue blood threatens my grasp. “Hurry!” I scream. “I’m slipping!”

  Eight.

  Seven.

  Six.

  We’re three-quarters of the way out, almost even with the top of the yawning aqueduct. Below me, the Quicks leap and jostle like a pack of hungry dogs, ready to devour their prey. My hand slides another inch down the blood-slick rope and I scream, again. “Ling, I’m slipping!”

  Five.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two things happen at once. I hear a tiny chorus of beeps. They form a high, single note, like a heart monitor signaling the end of someone’s life.

  And I lose my grip on the rope. I tumble, with Hunter in my arms, through empty air toward the waiting Quicks.

  Then a colossal and deafening explosion rips the world apart.

  A roar of air scoops us away from the Quicks, blasting us toward the open mouth of the aqueduct. The sky is below me, above me, below me again. And then I hear the water.

  Hold your breath.

  I have a split second to suck in one great gasp before a wall of water explodes around us, driving us forward. Instantly, we’re submerged and blasted into blackness.

  We’re in the aqueduct.

  I can’t move, can’t see. All I know is the roar of the water, rocketing us forward. I’m clutching some part of Hunter’s body as hard as I can, but my grip is clumsy and the water is an angry live thing that wants to pull him from my fingers.

  We slam into something hard—the side of the aqueduct?—and bounce off again in a sick spinning whirl. I need to breathe. My lungs burn. If I breathe now, I drown.

  We shoot forward like a bullet, racing blind. The water has its claws in me, ri
pping at me viciously.

  I want to breathe, I need to breathe, please, let me breathe—

  We’re being sucked down, and then up? Are we going up? I squint my eyes and the rushing black water is turning dark gray, light gray—

  Bright light bursts around us and we pop like a cork out of the water. I take a huge, gut-wrenching gulp of air. We splash back down. We are in the open air, racing along like a buzzcar. I feel thick, soupy heat. I catch snatches of ochre earth. I’m underwater again before I realize it and take in a mouthful of water. I’m coughing as we bob to the top again, gasping for air.

  I grab for Hunter and catch a terrifying flash of green eyes, wide open yet unseeing. The sightless stare of the dead. My legs kick wildly. I hook my arms around his torso, trying to hold on to his body and keep my head above water at the same time. The raw pink of dawn fills the sky that is above us, next to us, above us again. The river flips us around, and I see a streak of white—Eden’s city walls, receding.

  I am in Lunalac. I am back in the Badlands.

  On either side of the river, people in flea-bitten sun robes gape at the gushing water. A range of expressions flash past me: fear, shock, disbelief, delight. A little girl points at me and yells, “Acqua azul!” We race past her entire family, dumb with sleepy surprise, gathered on the banks of the river. She’s grinning from ear to ear.

  Finally the force of the water lessens. Kicking hard, I pull us diagonally toward the shore. My feet find purchase on the banks. In a few heavy, ungraceful lunges, I drag Hunter’s body out of the new river and drop him flat on the bone-hard earth along the shore.

  “Hunter!” I slap his face, hard and then harder still. “Hunter!”

  Nothing. Mouth-to-mouth? No, he doesn’t need air to live. He needs mirror matter.

  Please don’t let it have gotten lost in the river. Near me, I hear cries of delight as people begin jumping and wading into the river, but all I can focus on is finding the circle of skin at the back of his head. It opens easily. The empty tube falls into my fingers. I laugh, wild with relief that it made the journey. But is it empty? Is he dead? My eyes can’t find silver. I turn it around, studying every part anxiously. It looks empty.