by Marie Lu
I shimmy up and out into the evening air. No time to waste. My cap threatens to blow off—I hang out the window for a second and try to adjust it more snugly onto my head. Last thing I need right now is to have my hair blowing around like a beacon for anyone on the ground to see. When the gusts die down a bit, I pull myself completely out and cling to the window frame. I look up, gauging the distance to the next window. Then I jump. My hands grab on to the bottom ledge of the frame, and with difficulty, I manage to pull myself up. I grunt from the effort. Never would’ve had a problem with this a year ago.
When I’ve hopped to a fourth window, I hear the faint sound of something popping. Then, the first explosion.
A tremor runs deep through the entire airship, nearly shaking loose my grip, and when I glance down, I see a ball of orange and gray explode from where the airship is docked to its pyramid base. The Patriots are making their move. A second explosion follows—this time the airship creaks slightly, tilting to the east. Gritting my teeth, I pick up speed. One of my feet slips against a window frame at the same time a gust of wind blows by—I almost lose my balance. For a second my leg dangles precariously. “C’mon,” I scold myself. “You call this a run?” Then I throw one arm up as far as I can and manage to catch the next window before my legs give way completely. The effort triggers a dull flash of pain at the back of my head. I wince. No, not now. Anytime but now. But it’s no use. I feel the headache coming. If I get hit with it right now, I’ll be in so much pain that I’ll plummet to my death for sure. Desperately, I climb faster. My feet slip again on the topmost window. I manage to catch myself at the last second, then grab the ledge of the upper deck as my headache explodes in full force.
Blinding white pain. I dangle there, clinging on for dear life, fighting against the agony that threatens to pull me under. Two more explosions follow the first couple in rapid succession, and now the airship creaks and groans. It tries to launch, firing away from the base, but all it manages to do is shudder. If the Chancellor gets his hands on me now, he’ll kill me himself. Somewhere far away, I hear a siren sound—soldiers on the upper deck must know by now that I’m heading there, and they’ll be ready for me.
My breaths come in short gasps. Open your eyes, I command myself. You have to open them. Through a blurry veil of tears, I see a glimpse of the upper deck and soldiers running. Their shouts ring out across the deck. For an instant, I lose my memory again of where I am, what I’m doing, what my mission is. The unfamiliarity makes my stomach heave, and I have to keep myself from throwing up. Think, Day. You’ve been in bad situations before. My memory blurs. What did I need up here again? Finally I clear my mind—I need some way to swing down to the bottom of the ship. Then I remember the sleek metal chain railings lining the edge of the deck, and my original plan—my eyes swivel up to the nearest chain. With enormous effort, I reach out and grab at it. I miss the first time. The soldiers see me now, and several of them run in my direction. I grit my teeth and try again.
This time I reach the chain. I grab it with both hands, then yank down. The chain pops free from its hooks. I throw myself off the side of the ship—and let myself fall. I hope to hell this chain can support my weight. There’s a chorus of pops as the chain snaps free of hooks on both sides, sending me down at dizzying speed. The pain in my head threatens to weaken my grip. I hang on with every shred of strength that I have. My hair billows around me, and I realize my cap must’ve fallen off. Down, down, down I fall. The world zips past me at the speed of light. Through the rushing wind, my head slowly clears.
Suddenly one side of the chain snaps loose right as I reach the bottom of the ship. A lungful of air escapes me as I’m vaulted to one side. I manage to grab the remaining chain with both hands and hang on tightly as I swing along the bottom side of the ship. The pyramid base is almost close enough under my feet for me to jump, but I’m going way too fast. I swing closer to the side of the ship, then scrape the heels of my boots hard against the steel. There’s a loud, long screech. My boots finally find traction—the force spins me from my swing and sends me twirling. I fight to steady myself. Before I can, though, the chain finally breaks and I tumble onto the outside of the pyramid base.
The impact knocks all the wind out of me. I skid against the smooth, slanted walls for a few seconds, until my boots catch against the surface and I stop there, bruised and limp, convinced soldiers are going to fill me with bullets as I lie vulnerable against the pyramid. Pascao and the others will know by now that I’ve made my move, and they’ll be setting off the bombs all along the naval bases. I better get off this thing before I’m burnt to a crisp. That thought fills my mind and gives me the strength to pull myself up. I slide down the side as fast as I can—below, I can already see Colonies soldiers rushing to stop me. A sense of hopelessness stabs me. There’s no way in hell I’ll get past all of them in time. Still, I keep moving. I have to get away from the explosion site.
I’m several dozen yards from the bottom. Soldiers are clambering up to seize me. I tense up, push myself up into a crouch, and quickly move sideways against the slanted base. I’m not going to make it.
The instant this crosses my mind, the two final explosions go off under the airship.
A huge roar above me shakes the earth, and when I glance behind me, I see an enormous fireball rise up from where the airship is docked with the top of the base. All along the naval base, orange flames burst from every single pyramid dock. They’ve gone off in unison. The result is absolutely jaw-dropping. Quickly I glance back to the soldiers who were chasing me—they’ve paused, shocked by what they’re witnessing. Another deafening burst of flame erupts above us and the tremors knock everyone off their feet. I struggle to stabilize myself against the slanted wall. Move, move, move! I stagger down the last few yards of the base’s wall and fall to my knees on the ground. The world spins. All I can hear are the shouts of soldiers and the roar of the infernos lighting up the naval bases.
Hands grab me. I struggle, but I have no more strength left. Suddenly they drop me and I hear a familiar voice at my side. I turn in surprise. Who is this? Pascao. His name is Pascao.
His bright gray eyes crinkle at me—he grabs my hand and urges me to run. “Nice to see you alive. Let’s keep it that way.”
FROM THE BANK TOWER IN DOWNTOWN LA, I CAN SEE the giant plumes of orange flame lighting up the naval bases along the coast. The blasts are enormous, illuminating the edge of the sky with blinding light and echoing through the air, the force shaking the glass windows of the tower as I look on. Hospital staff mill around me in a scene of commotion. The lab teams are prepping both Tess and Eden for evacuation.
A call comes in from Pascao. “I’ve got Day,” he shouts. “Meet us outside.”
My knees turn weak with relief. He’s alive. He made it. I peek inside Tess’s room, where she’s being secured to a wheelchair, and give her a thumbs-up. She brightens, even in her weakened state. Outside the tower, I see the shadow engulfing our building begin to move—the Colonies airship hovering overhead is heading away from us to join into battle. As if our explosions have unsettled a nest of wasps, dozens of Colonies fighter jets are taking off from its deck as well as the decks of the distant, crippled airships, their shapes forming squadrons in the sky. Republic jets meet them in midair.
Hurry, Antarctica. Please.
I rush off the lab floor and down the stairs to the lobby of the Bank Tower. There’s chaos everywhere. Republic soldiers hurry past me in a blur of motion, while several gather at the front doors to prevent anyone else from getting inside. “This hospital is off limits!” one barks. “Bring the injured across the street—we are evacuating!” The screens lining the hall show scenes of Republic soldiers clashing with Colonies troops in the streets—and, to my surprise, Republic civilians wielding whatever weapons they can find and joining in to push the Colonies back. Fires burn along the roads. At the bottom of every screen in bold, menacing letters is the scrolling text: ALL REPUBLIC SOLDIERS TO BREAK SURRENDER.
ALL REPUBLIC SOLDIERS TO BREAK SURRENDER. I cringe at the scene, even though this is exactly what we had planned for.
Outside, the noise of battle deafens me. Fighter jets roar past us overhead, while others hover directly over the Bank Tower, prepared to defend the tallest building in LA if—when—the Colonies try to attack. I see similar formations over other prominent downtown buildings. “Come on, Day,” I mutter, scanning the streets nearby for signs of his bright hair, or of Pascao’s pale eyes. A deep tremor shakes the ground. Another ball of orange flame explodes behind several rows of buildings, then a pair of Colonies jets zoom by, followed closely by a Republic plane. The sound is so loud that I press both hands to my ears until they’ve passed.
“June?” Pascao’s voice comes over my mike, but I can barely hear him. “We’re almost here. Where are you?”
“In front of the Bank Tower,” I shout over the noise.
“We’ve gotta evacuate,” he replies immediately. “Getting some feedback from our Hackers—the Colonies are aiming to attack the building within the hour—”
As if on cue, a Colonies jet screams by, and an instant later, an enormous explosion goes off at the very top of the Bank Tower. Soldiers all around me let out shouts of warning as glass falls from the highest floors. I jump backward into the safety of the building’s entrance. Debris rains down in a thunderous storm, crushing jeeps and shattering into a million pieces.
“June?” Pascao’s voice comes back on, clearly alarmed now. “June—are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” I shout back. “I’ll help with evacuations once I see you. See you soon!” Then I hang up.
Three minutes later, I finally spot Day and Pascao staggering toward the Bank Tower against the tide of civilians escaping the area and soldiers rushing to defend the streets. They stumble through the debris. I rush from the entrance toward Day, who’s leaning heavily against Pascao’s good shoulder.
“Are either of you injured?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” Pascao replies, nodding at Day. “Not sure about this guy. I think he’s more exhausted than anything.”
I swing Day’s other arm around my shoulder. Pascao and I help him inside the lobby of a building several blocks from the Bank Tower, where we still have a direct view of the tower and the chaotic, debris-filled square that sits between the two buildings. Inside, rows of injured soldiers are already camped out, with medics running frantically between them. “We’re clearing out the tower,” I explain as we gently help Day down to the ground. He grimaces in pain, even though I can’t find any specific wounds on him. “Don’t worry,” I reassure him when he glances up at me in alarm. “Eden and Tess are being evacuated right now.”
“And so should you,” he adds. “The fight’s just beginning.”
“If I tell you to stop worrying, will you?”
My reply gets a wry smile from him. “Are the Antarcticans coming to help us?” Day asks. “Did you tell Anden about the cure—”
“Calm down,” I interrupt him, then stand up and put a hand on Pascao’s shoulder. “Watch out for him. I’m going back to the tower to help with the evacuations. I’ll tell them to bring his brother here.” Pascao nods quickly, and I cast one last glance toward Day before running out of the building.
A stream of people is making its way out of the tower, with Republic soldiers flanking them on either side. Some are on crutches or in wheelchairs, while others are strapped to gurneys and being wheeled out by a team of medics. Republic soldiers bark orders at them, their guns hoisted and their bodies tense. I hurry past them and toward the entrance, then push my way inside to the stairs. I hop up the steps two at a time until I finally reach the lab floor, where the door’s propped open and a nurse is directing people toward the elevator.
I reach the nurse and grab her arm. She turns to look at me, startled. “Princeps-Elect,” she manages to blurt out, hastily bowing her head. “What are you—”
“Eden Bataar Wing,” I say breathlessly. “Is he ready to go yet?”
“Day’s brother?” she replies. “Yes—yes, he’s in his room. We’re preparing to move him comfortably. He still needs to be in a wheelchair, but—”
“And Tess? The girl who was under quarantine?”
“She’s already on her way downstairs—”
I don’t wait for the nurse to finish before rushing into the main lab room and toward the corridor. At the very end, I see a pair of doctors wheeling Eden out. He looks like he’s unconscious, resting on a small pillow propped between his head and the chair’s back, his forehead damp with sweat.
I give the doctors instructions on where to take him as we all hurry together toward the elevator. “You’ll see Day there. Keep him with his brother.”
Another explosion rips through the building, forcing half of us to our knees. Some of the medics scream. Dust rains down from the ceiling, making my eyes water—I unbutton my coat, then shrug out of it and throw it across Eden to shield him. “No elevator,” I gasp out, heading toward the stairs instead. “Can we carry him down?”
One of the nurses gingerly picks Eden up and holds him tight in her arms. We hurry down the stairs as more dust showers us and muffled sounds of shouts, guns, and explosions echo from outside.
We rush out into a lengthening evening lit completely by the fire of battle. Still no call from Anden. My eyes sweep the roofs as we pause underneath the entrance, other evacuees streaming around us and between Republic guards. One of the guards recognizes me and hurries over, throwing a quick salute before he speaks. “Princeps-Elect!” he shouts. “Get to the adjacent shelter, as quick as you can—we’ll send a jeep to take you to the Elector.”
I shake my head right away. “No. I’m staying here.” A spark from the roofs makes me look up, and instantly we all cringe when a bullet hits the overhang in front of the main entrance. There are Colonies gunmen on the roofs. Several of the Republic soldiers point their guns and open fire. The guard who had spoken to me puts a hand on my shoulder. “Then move out,” he yells, gesturing wildly for us.
The nurse holding Eden takes several steps forward, her eyes still fixed in terror on the rooftops. I put a hand out to stop her. “Not yet,” I say. “Stay here a moment.” Not two seconds after the words leave my mouth, I see a bullet hit one of the evacuees—blood sprays, and instantly the people around him flee, screams reverberating in the air. My heart pounds as I scan the roofs again. One of the Republic soldiers finally catches a gunman, and I see somebody in a Colonies uniform fall from the top of a nearby building. I look away before the body hits the ground, but I’m still struck by a violent wave of nausea. How do we get Eden to safety?
“Stay here,” I command the nurse holding Eden. Then I tap four of the Republic soldiers. “Cover me. I’m heading up there.” I gesture for one of the guards to hand me the gun at his belt, and he passes it over without hesitation.
I move into the crowds and make my way toward the buildings. I try to imitate the effortless grace that Day and Pascao have in this urban jungle. As the chaotic evacuations continue and soldiers from both sides face off against one another, I hurry into the shadows of a narrow, nearby alley and start making my way up the side of the building. I’m small, dressed in dark clothes, and alone. They won’t expect me to head up here. My mind runs through all of my sharpshooting lessons. If I can throw them off, it’ll give the evacuees that much more of a chance to make it out in one piece. Even as I think this, another Colonies jet zooms overhead and a huge plume of bright red flame erupts on the Bank Tower. A Republic jet tails close behind it, firing as it goes—as I look on, it manages to hit the Colonies plane and ignite one of its engines, sending it careening wildly to one side and leaving a trail of dark smoke behind it. A deafening roar follows; it must have crashed several blocks down. I look back up at the burning tower. We don’t have much time. This building is going to come down. I grit my teeth and make my way up as fast as I can. If only I were as good a Runner as Day and Pascao.
I finally reach
the top floor’s ledge. From here, I get a good view of the battle zone below me. The Bank Tower is under siege from the sky and the ground, where hundreds of Republic troops are pushing back in the streets against a steady tide of enemy soldiers. Patients and medics alike still stream from the tower and down the street toward the makeshift shelter, along with government officials from the higher floors, many of them covered completely in white dust and blood. I peer over the top ledge.
No gunmen here. I pull myself up onto the roof, careful to stay in the shadows. My hand grips the gun so tightly that I can barely feel my fingers. I scan the roofs in the danger zone leading up to the shelter, until finally I see several Colonies soldiers crouched on top of the neighboring buildings, taking aim at the Republic troops heading up the evacuation. I make my way silently toward them.
I take the first one down quickly, aiming at him from behind as I peer over the building’s top ledge. It’s as if I can feel Metias guiding my gun, making sure I hit him somewhere that isn’t fatal. As he collapses with a muffled shriek that’s lost in all the chaos, I rush over and grab his gun, then fling it over the side of the roof. Then I hit him in the face hard enough to knock him out. My eyes settle on the next soldier. I press one hand against my earpiece and click my mike on.
“Tell the nurse to keep waiting,” I hiss urgently at the guard by the Bank Tower. “I’ll send a signal when it’s—”
I never get a chance to finish my sentence. An explosion throws me down flat onto the roof. When I open my eyes and look down, the entire street is completely covered in ash and dust. Dust bombs? Through the veil of smoke and dirt, evacuees are running in panic toward the shelter and breaking through the lines of Republic soldiers flanking them, completely ignoring their shouts. The Colonies gunmen have visors on. They must be able to see through all this smoke. They fire down at the crowds, scattering them in all directions. I look frantically toward the tower. Where’s Eden? I hurry to my next target, taking him down in the same way as the last. Another gunman down. I lock on to my third target, then spit out a curse as I realize that my gun has just run out of bullets.