When the wall comes down. At least he was being optimistic.
The closest black jeep headed toward the forklift.
“No, no, no.” Anand had his thumb on the detonate button.
The jeep skidded to a stop a dozen feet from the forklift, which was puttering steadily toward the wall. The passenger in the jeep jumped out and ran toward it.
“Damn it.” Anand detonated the explosive. The forklift, the jeep, and the people in the jeep disintegrated. The explosion was too far from the wall to breach it.
“Go.” Anand grabbed a yellow tube from the crate and ran. Celia was right behind him.
Howling, their army went over the rise. The clowns caught up to Anand and Celia and formed a shield around them. Gunshots cracked. A clown in the shield wall was hit in the thigh; he slowed, shrieking with pain and rage, but stayed on his feet. Another clown in the shield wall went down, shot in the stomach.
Realization struck Celia like a bucket of ice water. The dying clowns were all on the periphery, or on Anand’s side. No one close to Celia was being fired at.
“They still don’t want to kill me.” She raised her voice. “Everyone move closer to me. They won’t shoot at me.” The clowns pressed in until Celia was the meat in a clown sandwich.
A shout rang out. “Hold!”
Max. Celia recognized his voice immediately.
“Move in close. Shoot only at point blank range.”
Celia saw Max’s security people hesitate. There were only seven or eight of them; they didn’t want to get that close to the clowns.
“Move. Go!” Max shouted.
When one of the security people got within reach of their moving scrum, a dozen clowns broke off and went after her. The woman dropped her rifle and ran. One clown retrieved the rifle as the group merged back into the crowd.
“This is what Dominion wants,” Celia shouted at the security people hovering uncertainly, well out of reach of the clowns. “They want to watch us kill each other. Don’t do it. Join us!”
Dominion was still broadcasting. Bage, Raelyn, Lexie, Ava and Amelia were all watching, probably rooting for Celia and Anand. Celia getting shot and killed was not the ending Dominion wanted. But what ending did they want? Not the destruction of their towns, and not Celia’s death. Whatever it was, they needed her, and she could use that against them.
A line of jeeps roared into view, flying down the hill.
“Let me through.” Anand pushed his way through the shield of clowns. He set the yellow tube at the base of the wall. They turned and ran as one.
Crack. Crack crack. Two straggling clowns went down; it was hard to run in close formation.
Max charged, firing a handgun.
Anand dropped to his knees.
“Anand.” There was a blinding flash, a deafening boom. Celia was hurled backward, into the weeds.
The explosion blanked her mind. Celia sat up, disoriented, her ears ringing. She looked around at the dust and smoke, at all the people, some on the ground, others on their knees, a few running around.
“Anand.” Celia could barely hear her own voice. She crawled back toward the smoking hole in the town’s wall, her ears ringing.
Anand was lying with his back to the wall, breathing raggedly, a gunshot wound in his side. He saw Celia, and gasped, “Run.”
Someone shrieked. Celia couldn’t see who it was—the air was still thick with smoke and dust.
“Celia.”
Celia spun and spotted Max sitting in the blackened grass, a nasty, nasty gash across his scalp. One side of his face and neck was painted in blood.
“Don’t get your hopes up. You can’t win, no matter what you do. But it’s great TV.”
There was another scream. And another.
Celia staggered to her feet. “Are you facing the camera, Max? Make sure they get your good side, which right now would be the side that doesn’t look like ground beef.”
Max smiled. “Don’t do that. It hurts to laugh.”
Celia clenched her fists. “Why would you broadcast this?”
Max dropped his head, spit blood. “Everybody’s watching. Everybody. You’re saving the network, which means you’re saving our species.”
Celia looked around at the chaos, the carnage, then back at Max. He had to be lying. He was messing with her mind, trying to shake her resolve. “We’re taking this whole island. Once all the towns are liberated, we’ll march on Dominion City and burn it to the ground if we have to.”
“No you won’t.”
Movement in the breach caught Celia’s eye. Something cruised out, a few feet off the ground, winding through the smoking air like a ... snake. She squinted. It was a snake, with a half-dozen pairs of flitting insect wings.
A bigger one appeared, ten feet long, at least. It spotted Anand and changed direction abruptly.
“Look out!” Celia picked up a scorched, jagged piece of jeep and ran to help Anand. The snake changed direction again, heading straight toward Celia, moving as though swimming through the air. As its flat, triangular head drew close, Celia swung the hunk of metal at it. The snake’s head recoiled, then darted forward and struck. She fell to the ground.
It felt as if someone had pounded a spike through her hand.
Celia cradled her hand against her chest, willing the pain to subside as the snake glided past, but the pain only grew worse. It felt as if the spike driven through her hand was heating up, burning her flesh from the inside out.
“Oh, Celia.” Anand tried to stand as blood dribbled between his fingers and pattered to the ground.
A barefoot woman in baggy black clothes ran past clutching a machete.
“Wait!” Celia and Anand cried, almost in unison.
The woman paused, her knuckles white on the machete.
“The people in red uniforms are the ones who are trying to kill you,” said Celia. It was hard to form the words through the pain. “Help us fight them.”
The woman gave a curt nod. “Snakebite?”
“Yes.”
“Hand’s a good place for a bite; not too close to the heart. The snakes are getting low on venom. You might live.” She turned and headed toward a Slaughtertown resident carrying an ax as though he’d been born holding it.
Cracks of gunfire had started up again. Celia glanced at Max. He lay gasping on the ground nearby, apparently unready to rejoin the fight. Celia didn’t feel ready either, but she struggled to her feet. The ground spun. She looked around, trying to guess where the cameras were. “Are you enjoying this?”
Get the viewers on your side, Calysta had said.
The hell with that.
“You think this is fun? This is real. We’re real people. Are you out of your fucking minds?”
Max laughed hysterically. “Ten million people just turned to a loved one and said, ‘You have to see this. She’s talking to the audience.’”
Celia’s hand was swelling and turning blue. She felt queasy from the pain. It was hard to think.
There were at least twenty snakes loose. The security people still standing were shooting at the snakes. They didn’t seem aware of the Slaughtertowners fanning out around them. The woman with the machete was speaking with one of the clowns.
“I’m going to find a medic,” Celia said to Anand.
“No,” he said, his hands red with blood. “Bring a jeep.”
That was a good idea. Celia spotted an empty jeep. She’d just made it into the driver’s seat when the security people’s cries of alarm rose to a higher pitch.
The clowns were strong and savage, but the Slaughtertown residents were better armed and more efficient. As the combined forces attacked the Redsuits, the snakes, attracted to the blood and the furious movement, struck savagely and indiscriminately.
Celia had to look away.
She would have kicked Max in the face if she’d had the strength. Helping Anand into the back seat was agonizing for both of them. By the time she’d dragged herself behind the wheel, her vision
was blurry and it felt like a blowtorch was burning her hand. She managed to put the jeep in drive, then pressed the gas way too hard, jolting them forward. She hit the brake, screaming in frustration.
Beaners opened the driver-side door. “Get in the back.”
Grateful, Celia stumbled into the back.
Before getting in, Beaners went over to Max, wrapped; his arm around Max’s neck and dragged him to the jeep. He tossed Max into the passenger seat like he was a duffle bag. “We may need intel on Dominion’s operating procedures.” As Beaners climbed into the driver’s seat, he noticed Celia’s hand resting gingerly on the middle console. “Yikes. That doesn’t look good at all.”
Celia sat with her head between her knees, trembling from the pain, wishing she could vomit.
“Bomb crate.” It was Anand, his voice barely a whisper.
“Way ahead of you, Beanstalk.” Beaners bounced the jeep up the hill. Each bump sent a fresh jolt of agony up Celia’s wrist. “Aren’t you glad I came back? All together now: ‘Boy, Beaners, are we glad you’re here to save our butts.’”
“Give out the bombs,” Celia said.
“What’s that?” Beaners asked.
“Five or six teams. Give ’em explosives. There are extra detonators in the crate.”
“Oh, I get it. Send them off in different directions to blow up walls and spread the good news. You’re good at this.”
“We’re going to Record Village.”
When they reached the bomb crate, Beaners honked the horn until a mass of clowns, Slaughtertowners, and the odd acrobat climbed the hill to see what was going on. The security people were dead, along with a half dozen snakes. The rest of the snakes had apparently fled to search for easier prey.
Chapter 24
The jeep squealed to a stop.
“Lovely,” Beaners said.
Celia peeled her eyes open. Her hand was a ball of flame.
They were at the edge of the forest. Fifty or sixty security people surrounded Record Village.
“Your move, sweetheart,” Max said. He had bloody circles under his eyes, and he looked like an extra in a zombie film.
Celia looked around. About twenty clowns had come with them, jogging alongside the jeep. Between them, they had a dozen yellow tubes. Celia wondered how far the clowns could throw them. They could blow a corridor to the wall. Of course, Dominion’s forces could just retreat to a safe distance and open fire as they came through the breach.
But unless the rules had changed, they were under orders not to shoot Celia...
“Everybody out of the jeep.”
Beaners heaved a sigh. “In other words, ‘Beaners, lift everybody out of the jeep.’” Beaners grabbed Max and tossed him to the ground. He lifted Anand more gently.
“No. We all go.” Anand put his hand on Beaners’ shoulder. “Put me back in.” Beaners ignored him, setting him down a little distance from Max.
Working one-handed, Celia picked out a yellow tube and entered the code on the detonator, leaving only one button to press to set off the explosive. She got in the jeep, pressed the accelerator, glancing back at Anand only once before turning her attention to the security forces, and the wall beyond. The bumpy terrain was agony on her hand, but she didn’t want to give the Redsuits any chance to jump into the jeep and overpower her. If she was wrong, and they were allowed to shoot her, they would pump her full of bullets no matter how fast she was driving.
The Dominion forces opened fire as she approached. None of the shots came close. The Redsuits scattered to avoid being hit by the jeep, then turned and fired as she passed. Bullets struck the jeep, but low.
The jeep fishtailed and slowed. They couldn’t shoot her. Her tires, on the other hand... “Come on, come on.” She gunned the accelerator, rode the flattening tires to the wall. Grabbing the explosive from the seat, she set it at the base of the wall and ran, hoping none of her Record Village friends were within the blast radius. Man, were they in for a surprise.
Security forces raced toward her. She raised the detonator, her thumb on the big button. “Better get back.” The Redsuit closest to her looked over his shoulder. Three or four others hesitated as well.
How far did she have to be from the blast to avoid getting injured or killed? She was too sick and too tired to mull the question for long. She staggered a few more steps, dropped to her belly, and pressed the detonator.
Being flat on the ground helped quite a bit in a violent explosion. Or maybe when you were in as much pain as she was, it just couldn’t get much worse. Never had she imagined that a snakebite would hurt so much. As the explosion crested, Celia struggled to her knees.
A Redsuit tackled her. “Somebody bring a jeep.”
A clown with frothy yellow hair and a round red nose smacked the Redsuit in the head with a shovel.
Celia struggled to her knees again and surveyed the battle. People were fighting on charred ground in a field of debris, ashes fluttering in the smoke-filled air. The ground tilting under her, Celia lurched to her feet and staggered toward Record Village.
As she stepped through the breach in the wall, she heard someone say, “Celia. It’s Celia.” It was the chef who’d played the role of Janine’s doctor. She couldn’t remember his name. People were huddled in groups, staring at the smoking hole in the wall.
“Don’t just stand there.” She tried to concentrate, to think how to explain everything, but her head was spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl. “We’re not even human. We’re two feet tall. They made us. We’re a TV show.”
A couple of filthy clowns ran through the breach. The crowd, which was growing by the minute, buzzed in surprise as the two brightly colored figures sprinted past. Celia couldn’t imagine where the clowns were going. Maybe to find weapons?
Chocolate. They were looking for chocolate.
“If you want to spend the rest of your life hopping on one foot and catching grapes in your mouth, go home. If you want to be a free person, you need to fight.”
That sent an electric buzz through the crowd. What she’d said definitely fit into the category of Things You Don’t Talk About.
“All the rules have changed. Get a knife, get a baseball bat, help us fight.”
A few people ran off. Not all of them, or most, but a few. Then a few more.
“Celia!” Molly pushed through the crowd.
“Molly.” Celia wanted to throw her arms around Molly, but her hand was the size of a catcher’s mitt. “Get the team, get everyone you can, and help us. We’re tearing it all down.”
“Tearing all what down?”
It seemed impossible that Molly, Constantine, Fizz, and the rest still had no idea what was outside Record Village. “Trust me. No more records. This is a prison, we just didn’t know it.” Celia looked over her shoulder. She had to check on Anand, had to push on to other towns and keep the momentum going. She clutched Molly’s arm with her good hand. “Please. Convince everyone to fight. We’re one big team now. Fight the people in the red suits. Kill them if you have to. The people with guns in the red suits.”
Molly was staring past Celia, at the field and the trees beyond, mesmerized. “I’ll try.”
By the time Celia got outside, all the Redsuits were dead. Anand was propped against a tree, breathing rapidly, eyes closed.
“Anand?”
Anand opened his eyes and took Celia’s uninjured hand. “Stopped bleeding. Seems like a good sign. You?” He looked at her snake-bitten hand. “Oh, Celia.”
“Your townie said I’d probably live.” Celia wanted nothing more than to collapse next to Anand and call it a day, but she resisted the urge. Most of the clowns had taken off, either to find chocolate or other Redsuits to kill so they could sit and eat their chocolate in peace.
People were trickling out through the breach, some carrying makeshift weapons like axes and butcher knives, others looking shell-shocked.
Three filthy, barefoot women ran out through the breach in the Record Village wall carrying machetes.
“Over here.” Celia waved a hand over her head. “Where did you come from?”
A woman wearing an eye-patch approached her. “The clowns blew a hole in the wall of a town that was mostly filled with children. We went inside and caught Redsuits trying to escape through an underground tunnel. We’re using the tunnels connecting the towns to hunt people wearing red.” The woman who spoke never made eye contact with Celia. Her good eye was on the terrain, watching for threats. Celia pictured thousands of Slaughtertown veterans in those tunnels, popping up to surprise the Redsuits. It thrilled and terrified her.
A sound rose in the distance—Thump-thump-thump-thump. Celia felt the percussion in her belly as much as her ears as it grew louder.
Half a dozen helicopters flew over the treetops, blotting out the sky. Each was easily a hundred feet long, at least to the people on the ground. People fled in all directions as one of the helicopters set down, taller than the wall.
Celia looked around. A few Slaughtertown residents were holding their ground, ready to fight. Everyone else was running.
Six giant soldiers leaped out of the helicopter clutching rifles with odd, fat muzzles, their faces hidden behind gas masks. Two headed toward Celia’s group.
To Celia’s left, the jeep roared to life. Beaners and a few other clowns sped off.
“Raise your hand in the air,” Anand said.
“No.” Had Beaners at least left some explosives? Celia scanned the weeds. There had to be a way to fight these giants.
The soldiers leveled their rifles, and fired. Instead of bullets, two large cylinders flew toward Celia tumbling end-over-end, spurting smoke.
Not smoke. Gas. Thus the need for gas masks. Other soldiers were firing canisters into the small crowd of Record Villagers who’d ventured out, while still others fired into the breach itself. Celia turned to help Anand to his feet, and collapsed across his knees.
Chapter 25
Waking up was hard.
Celia opened her eyes, saw nothing but darkness. She closed them again and drifted off.
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