by Sara Grant
‘The lights,’ Marissa whispered as if her voice might have blown them out.
She was right. The buildings were there, but the normally brilliant skyline etched in rainbow colours had been snuffed out. A nearly solid line of white lights led away from the city. More people like us, trying to run and hide and survive. There were no red lights heading in any more.
‘What do you think it means?’ I asked.
‘Nothing good,’ Tate said.
We watched the last flashes of the sun sink behind the mountains in the west. The sky beyond glowed the most brilliant shade of pink. Midnight rubbed against my legs.
‘The city looks dead.’ I didn’t mean to say it, but it was true. I loved the skyline of DC at night. The way the city looked fresh and sparkly framed by the dark sky. I’d always thought there was something magical about the city after sunset. It was as if the darkness erased the rough edges and all you could see was the bright sparkling promise. Las Vegas was disappearing below us.
‘Everyone should decide for themselves,’ I said, ‘but I’m going underground, at least for a little while.’
Marissa turned her back to us. She was taking deep breaths. I wasn’t sure if she was crying or having some sort of panic attack. I reached out to touch her but she stormed off.
Tate started drumming his fingers against something. All I wanted was a few minutes of silence to take it all in, to say goodbye. But I was being distracted by Tate’s tap, tap, tap. It was as if he was counting down our last minutes.
‘Will you please cut it out?’ I shouted. Tate’s cheeks glistened, wet with tears. He ran the way we came, right behind Marissa. ‘Sorry, Tate,’ I called after him. How could I be so insensitive? He was just a kid, after all.
‘You ready?’ Chaske asked.
NO! I thought. How could anyone ever be ready for this?
I peered over the edge. Below was a sheer drop to a rocky ravine. ‘Just one more minute.’ I inhaled deeply, drinking in the fresh air. No hint of exhaust or Dumpsters or urine or the million other smells that blended together on the streets of DC.
It was nearly dark now and I could see the first twinkle of stars overhead. I memorized the sight before me. I rarely saw the stars in the city. How long would it be before I saw the sky and the stars again? What was going to happen to my world? What was going to happen to me? The sadness that gathered in my chest was overwhelming.
If I was going to survive there would be more bad days ahead. I was burying myself alive with three people I barely knew for reasons that weren’t completely clear, and for an indefinite period of time.
But it wasn’t death. It wasn’t forever. My parents would come for me. It’s hard to explain the feeling that came over me. I was watching but wasn’t part of the drama that was about to unfold.
A distant rumble filled the air. Within seconds, the roar was upon us, exploding in our ears and rattling our bones. Chaske and I dropped to the ground. We flattened ourselves on the rock, Chaske protectively covering me, as fighter jets zoomed overhead. They passed us in a flash. Was this an enemy attack or were we retaliating? It didn’t matter. The terrorist attack was escalating and I didn’t want to wait around to find out who was bombing who. As we got to our feet, we could see the V formation disappear at the horizon.
I ran as fast as I could. Soon I was flanked by Chaske, Marissa, Tate and Midnight. We didn’t talk. It was unanimous. We were going underground.
Chapter Sixteen
‘What you fear most sometimes happens and it’s worse than you could ever imagine.’
– Just Saying 187
FINCH
Finch calls out to the other Cheerleaders, ‘Gather everyone at the Mall!’ Finch isn’t scared. He’s euphoric.
In no time, every wooden bench in the Mall is crammed with Cheerleaders more wedged than seated. The rockstars are huddled together at the front, sitting on the ground. The tension in the Mall is like smouldering embers; one breath could ignite Forreal.
As Finch enters the Mall, he takes Harper’s hand. She resists. She’s always kept him at a safe distance as if she was afraid to get too close to anyone but her precious Beckett. ‘For Atti,’ he says, and her hand relaxes in his grip.
The crowd parts as they make their way through. The Cheerleaders look at Finch, really look at him now. At last, Finch thinks. He must disguise his true feelings. They can’t see how happy they’ve made him by finally acknowledging his leadership. He channels his excitement into a calm confidence. He helps Harper onto the platform that is usually occupied only by Beckett and the Twitter.
‘The time is twelve and five,’ the Timekeeper calls raising his hand above his head. The chunky silver watch dangles on his wrist.
Beckett is one of the last to the Mall. He makes his way to the front, but people aren’t focused on him like they usually are. They are looking to Finch.
Beckett climbs onto the stage next to Harper. He whispers, ‘What’s going on?’
Harper turns away from him. Finch puts a protective arm around her.
‘Atti has disappeared, and Harper has seen Terrorists,’ Finch announces in a booming voice, and the Mall erupts. Cheerleaders find their rockstars. Finch raises his hands to quiet the crowd. He says what he knows will rally Forreal to his side. ‘Terrorists have taken Atti. I’m sure of it.’
Everyone is talking at once and Finch’s voice strains to be heard. ‘We must organize a search party. If Terrorists have taken my sister, they will pay!’
Those gathered mumble their agreement. He lets their anger fill him.
Beckett steps to the front of the stage. ‘We don’t know what’s happened to Atti. The Great I AM preaches peace, compassion and common sense. We must not react with anger before we have all the facts.’
Finch won’t let Beckett ruin it. Forreal is finally looking to Finch. This is his moment. ‘Tell them, Harper,’ he says, and shoves her forward, next to Beckett. ‘Tell them what you told me.’
Harper and Beckett exchange a look that Finch can’t quite decipher.
‘Harper, don’t,’ Beckett says, but Finch nudges him aside.
‘I was searching for Atti.’ Harper’s voice is trembling. She’s looking from Finch to Beckett.
‘Go on,’ Finch says.
‘I went to the buildings near the base of the Mountain.’ She bows her head. ‘I shouldn’t have done that but I thought Atti might have wandered off the Mountain. I saw something Out There.’ She lets that thought linger as she glances at Beckett.
The crowd’s red, shiny faces remind Finch of Atti’s Facebook. He spots fear and anger and hate and even rage on the round faces in front of him.
‘I saw four.’ She pauses and swallows. ‘Four creatures Out There. I came back as quickly as I could and told Finch what I’d seen.’
Finch puts his arm around her shoulders again and pulls her away from Beckett. ‘We must protect our Mountain,’ he says. ‘And the only way to do that is to attack!’
Cheerleaders shout their support and punch the air.
Beckett raises his arm, the one with the birthmark. Finch hates that he has the advantage of a birth defect. ‘Enough!’ Beckett bellows.
And it’s as if Forreal has been switched off. Beckett never raises his voice. He has their full attention now. Forty faces tight with anger soften one by one. Beckett looks Finch square in the eyes. Finch holds his gaze. He knows Beckett’s secret. He’s conspiring with the enemy. The girl may not look like a Terrorist but she must be working with them. The lights, Beckett’s secret meetings, Atti’s disappearance, Harper’s Terrorists – they can’t be a coincidence. These events are tied together.
‘I am sorry Atti is missing,’ Beckett says with his usual calm. ‘We will do everything in our power to return her to the Mountain. But we are not helping Atti by letting fear and anger take over. We must turn to the Great I AM.’ Beckett bows his head and all eyes lower. ‘Great I AM, protector of the sacred Mountain, please watch over Atti and, if it’s your will, ret
urn her to the Mountain. Whatever your will, we trust in you. Whatever happens, we know you watch over us. Whatever you decide, we know it will be OK.’
He pauses and Forreal joins in the Saying, ‘Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.’
But Finch remains silent. Where was Beckett when Atti went missing and the Terrorists came?
Beckett raises his head. ‘Why don’t we have a reading from the CQ?’ he says, and walks to the altar. He riffles through the CQ, letting the smooth plastic slip between his fingers.
Finch lets out an exasperated sigh and steps away from Harper, unable and unwilling to hide his irritation. Beckett is a man of thought, of waiting and Saying. Finch is a man of action. Words will not save his sister. They are wasting time.
Finch tenses every muscle in his body. Harper must feel his muscles pulse because she places her hand on his bicep and pulls him towards her.
Beckett’s fingers pause and the CQ slips open to a page. He flips ahead to another page. He says the Great I AM leads him to the appropriate message from the 303 Just Sayings captured on scraps of paper, but it’s obvious to Finch that Beckett is selecting one himself.
Finch has been misled by Beckett his entire life. He’s no conduit for the Great I AM. Finch can’t follow this man any more.
Beckett reads what is written in glittery green ink. ‘“Before I can worry about other people, I’ve got to be able to live with myself. A person’s conscience is not guided by majority rule.”’
Beckett pauses and the crowd choruses, ‘Whatever.’
Finch pinches his lips together. Not whatever. He cannot give his sister’s life and his future over to Beckett, Forreal’s false prophet, not this time.
Beckett closes the book. ‘The Great I AM—’
Finch can’t take any more of Beckett’s talk. ‘The Great I AM calls us to act.’ Finch rises on the tiptoe of his shorter leg so his legs are level. He towers over Beckett. ‘The Great I AM showed us the lights, showed us our enemy.’
‘You have suffered another loss. We . . .’ Beckett sweeps his arms wide to indicate everyone gathered, ‘understand your pain, but we cannot turn our backs on the teachings of the Great I AM.’
‘We can’t be passive any more.’ Finch feels tension in his hands. He laces his fingers together and flexes them. His knuckles crack with satisfying clicks. ‘Terrorists are Out There. We can’t wait for them to attack.’
‘Fighting only leads to more fighting, never to a solution,’ Beckett shouts to be heard.
‘The Terrorists are Out There,’ Harper says quietly. Her voice builds. ‘We must find Atti. We must protect our Mountain.’
‘My sister is gone. Who will be next?’ Finch stands toe-to-toe with Beckett.
‘We will organize a search for Atti,’ Beckett says, glaring at Finch. ‘You may continue to patrol, but we will not attack. We will only protect the Mountain.’
Now is Finch’s moment. ‘I can’t keep your secrets any more, Beckett,’ Finch says, and shoves him hard in the chest. Beckett falls to the ground. A collective gasp fills the air. ‘I saw you with a girl from Out There.’
‘I saw you too,’ Harper whispers to Beckett. ‘How could you?’
Beckett doesn’t get up.
‘It’s not like that. She’s not a Terrorist,’ Beckett says to Finch, and then repeats his confession to the gathered crowd.
‘So you admit that you’ve been secretly meeting someone from Out There. People who live Out There cannot be trusted. They may take a human form but their hearts are as black as a Terrorist’s. Beckett, you have betrayed your own people. Take him!’ Finch shouts to Tom and Cal. No one moves.
‘Tom. Cal. You know me. I would not betray Forreal.’ Beckett stands and scans the crowd. All heads are bowed. ‘Harper, tell them. You saw her, you know she’s not a Terrorist. She’s just a girl.’
Harper steps behind Finch. She’s choosing him. Finch stands taller and shifts to block Beckett when he reaches for her.
‘Is it true?’ Cal says. ‘Have you been secretly meeting with someone from Out There?’
Beckett nods.
Finch takes his rightful place behind the altar. ‘Beckett admits his treachery, and my sister has paid the price for his deceit. We are wasting time.’ He motions to Tom and Cal. ‘Take him to the cave and guard him.’ He waves them away like pesky flies disturbing dinner. ‘We cannot risk that he will signal our enemy.’ He locks eyes with Beckett. ‘We will deal with your betrayal later.’
Tom and Cal each take an arm. Beckett doesn’t struggle as they haul him away. Finch almost laughs at the hurt look in Beckett’s eyes. If he really was a prophet he would have known the contempt Finch feels for him. Maybe now Beckett will look closer and see the anger that’s always been locked in Finch’s heart.
‘This is not the will of the Great I AM,’ Beckett calls as they lead him away.
‘The Great I AM has chosen me to lead in this time of great conflict,’ Finch shouts, and he’s beginning to believe it. ‘Onwards and upwards!’
Finch hears Atti’s name echoing around the Mountain as Harper leads her search, but his focus is on his plan of attack. A dozen of the strongest Cheerleaders circle Finch. He has found a stick and drawn a rough map of the Man-Made Mountains. ‘The lights were about here.’ He marks the spot with an X. ‘This will be the target of our mission. We will send teams in from both sides and one straight up the middle. We will surprise them.’ He’s been formulating this plan ever since he first saw the lights with Beckett and Harper. He’d known this day would come. ‘If they like fire, we will give them fire. They can’t scare us with their pathetic light display. Fire will rain down the Mountain and cleanse Out There of Terrorists so we will be safe from their threat once and for all.’ Finch’s chest swells as the Cheerleaders nod their agreement.
Finch’s moment of triumph is suddenly stifled.
‘Finch!’ Harper screams. His name a ragged arrow through his heart.
‘Finch!’ Her voice is sluggish with tears.
Chills prickle his skin as he prepares for the loss he knew was coming.
‘Finch!’
Harper staggers into the Mall. ‘It’s Atti,’ Harper says, and throws herself into his arms. ‘She’s dead.’ Harper is sobbing.
‘Are you sure?’ Finch asks.
Harper nods. ‘They found her on the Black River. She’d been attacked.’ She covers her mouth as if she can’t allow the words to escape. ‘She’s been ripped apart.’
Grief flashes through him. Atti is gone. And for a moment, he hopes that Beckett is right. He hopes the Great I AM has gathered Atti and made her one with the Mountain. Finch hopes that Atti is with those that have gone before.
‘Terrorists,’ Finch says, and erases all other possibilities. It must have been a ruthless attack by the clawed and fanged beasties.
Harper is in his arms. Forreal is looking to him. Soon they will attack their life-long enemy. Finch has hungered for a fight because only the heat of battle can forge a hero.
Chapter Seventeen
The bunker door shut with an ominous thud. No one said a word, but I knew we were all wondering when that door would open again. Chaske swept the beam of his flashlight across the vast cavern in broad strokes. Marissa and Tate stood wide-eyed, taking it in. While they were occupied, I slipped the key from under my shirt and slotted it into the lock on this side of the door. The locking mechanism clunked and sealed with a thud and a whoosh. I tucked the key away.
‘Ice?’ Marissa’s voice echoed in the space with a note of alarm. ‘What did you do?’
I had to handle this right. I’d locked them in and I had the only key. ‘Uh, we have to lock whatever’s out there out there. Right?’ I swallowed. ‘I mean, we can’t keep the door open. If it’s locked, we’re safe.’
Tate’s voice rang out in the darkness. ‘Dread, do you have the only key?’
Chaske’s flashlight illuminated my face. My eye twitched. I was conscious of all the muscles in my face and I didn’t
know what to do with any of them. I nodded.
‘What if something happens to her? We should put the key on a hook or something. We should all have access to the key and know how to unlock the door.’ Tate’s voice again, but the carefree, boyish tone had vanished. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe there was a brain in that over-gelled head of his. ‘I mean if she like chokes on some gum or something, I don’t want to die here because she can’t chew and swallow.’
‘It pains me to say this, but Tate’s right,’ Marissa said.
Even in the dim light, I could feel their eyes drilling into me. I was the gatekeeper to the real world. It wasn’t a feeling of power as much as security. I’d seen movies where confined people go mental and kill each other. If they didn’t know where the key was or how to unlock the door, then they needed me. At least that’s what I wanted to believe.
‘Where’s the key?’ Tate wasn’t going to give up. Note to self: don’t underestimate Tate Chamberlain.
My parents and my expensive private education had prepared me for college, for thinking and yakking about abstract issues and political ideas. For taking tests. For following rules. Nothing had prepared me for this. ‘I don’t know what’s going on out there. None of us does. But I intend to stay here until my parents show up. My mum and dad said they would come get me when it’s safe outside. We’ll be safe in here until then.’
‘Maybe we should check outside once a day or something,’ Tate said.
I thought that might be a good idea but Chaske said, ‘I think it’s better if we completely isolate ourselves for a while. That way nothing and no one can get to us.’
I didn’t want to force anyone to do anything, but I’d made up my mind. ‘If you want to go, I’ll open the door right now, but if you stay, I won’t open the door until my parents come and tell me it’s OK.’