by Kat Falls
He held up a gold chain in the sliver of space between us, letting my dial dangle. My cheeks grew hot. But then my embarrassment over mistaking his intention gave way to panic. I couldn’t let him confiscate my dial. Those images were all that I had left of Rafe and Cosmo, and I needed to remember their faces. For them and for me.
“Put it in your pocket,” Everson said quietly. “If a guard sees the chain, he’ll know what it is even if you hide the dial under your shirt.” He pressed it into my palm and curled my fingers around it.
A wash of gratitude warmed me and I stuffed the dial deep into the pocket of my scrubs. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He gave the barest nod.
“Will you let me know when you’re back in the West?” I asked.
“It won’t be anytime soon,” he said, relaxing a little. “Mack’s fetching days are over, and not just because of his leg. But someone’s got to take medicine to the manimals in Moline or they’ll start mutating again.”
“You would do that?”
“First, I have to get them to trust me.” He smiled faintly. “I didn’t make such a good impression last time.”
The hovercopter’s rotary blades started to hum behind me.
“Go to the mayor of Moline,” I said in a rush of words, the solution clear in my mind. “Tell Hagen what happened to my dad. She’ll want to know. And then tell the whole compound about Rafe — how he killed the rogue like he said he would. But that” — the ache in my chest intensified — “he paid a terrible price to keep them safe. And be sure to tell them that you’re his friend.”
A flush crept up Everson’s neck. “Some friend. I would have left him in the zoo.”
“He’d understand. He told me to leave him behind if I got the chance to escape.”
“But you didn’t,” Everson said, his voice huskier than usual.
The wind from the hovercopter whipped my hair around my face. I turned to see a guard wave at me from the ’copter’s open door. “I’ve got to go.”
“Stay out of trouble,” Everson said, only half joking. “And stay on your side of the wall.”
As I nodded, the hill behind him caught my eye again. Only three days had passed since I’d come skittering down to the landing pad. Not much time at all, and yet I felt so different. More like the girl Everson thought I was — the one who did bold, unpredictable things. Who took action …
“You better —” He gestured one moment to the beckoning guard.
I leaned up, slipped my fingers into his cropped hair, and brought his mouth to mine. Everson froze, then his arms tightened around my waist, and so I deepened our kiss. This time when our lips parted, he was the one who looked slightly dazed. “What was that?”
“I didn’t want to miss the moment,” I said lightly. “See you around, Cruz.” I would, too. I just didn’t know where or when. As I headed for the hovercopter, I glanced back to see a very unguard-like smile on his face.
I sat by my father’s gurney as the hovercopter lifted into the air. My dad twisted and muttered urgently as we flew toward the Titan wall, which was as imposing as ever. I touched my dial in my pocket. No one had patted me down or checked my bag when I came aboard. Maybe the guards thought that frisking a guest of the CEO would be overstepping their bounds. And so I was taking home hours of raw footage — enough to keep me busy, editing, for a long, long time. Because, as I’d learned, the fastest way to get people to care about neglected animals was to show them the animals. And I would — someday.
My dad stirred and then opened his eyes, but he was so pumped up with painkillers, he looked at me without recognition.
“Dad, it’s me. I’m here.”
His forehead shimmered with sweat. He was barely conscious. “Lane? You’re not real.”
“I am. See?” I gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“Delaney?” His brows drew together. “Where are we?”
“In a patrol ’copter. Everything is going to be fine,” I assured him.
“What’s happened to you?” He struggled to sit up and winced. “Your face … are you hurt?” He was working to call up each word.
“It’s just dirt, Dad. Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.”
He blinked, fighting the drug coursing through him.
“Hey, want to hear a story?” I asked.
His expression softened and a corner of his mouth lifted. “About a brave little girl?”
“No, about a girl who’s not so little and way too tame,” I said. “But she did go on an adventure to find her father. She took the tunnel under the mountain and didn’t get blown up by the harpy eggs. She made friends with a killer robot, who didn’t like killing at all. And she found the wild boy who lives all alone in a castle.”
Now, my father looked at me, completely present for the first time. “You found Rafe?”
My heart clenched as I nodded. “He helped me, looked out for me. We became friends.” Or was it more than that? I shook off the thought, not wanting to pull apart my feelings for Rafe just yet. Not when picturing him fevered and alone made me want to sob myself sick.
“In the Feral Zone?” My dad’s fingers tightened around mine. “Lane, I … I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I get it now — why you like coming here. Why you feel you have to.”
“I should have told you.”
“You did.” I lifted our hands and rubbed my cheek over his knuckles. “Every night before bed.”
His eyes drifted closed once more. “I just wanted you to be safe … and happy,” he mumbled.
I stared out the window and didn’t share the thought that had come into my mind: Safe and happy don’t always go together.
With his eyes still closed, my dad began to murmur. His words were soft and blurred, but I recognized the way they rose and fell. It was the rhythm of a bedtime story. Gasping, he tried to finish a nearly inaudible thought. “And they … they loved …” And he fell into a deep sleep once more. But I knew how the story ended — how all of his stories had always ended — and so I finished it for him.
“And they loved happily ever after.” Leaning down, I kissed his cheek. “I’ll try, Dad. I will, but this story isn’t finished yet.” The hovercopter zoomed over the wall’s ramparts and the line guards stopped marching to send up a salute. “Not even close.”
With much gratitude, I would like to acknowledge the people who helped me take this story from a glimmer of a concept to a published book.
A huge thanks to my agent, Josh Adams, for championing my idea from the start and for his patience, perspective, and much-needed nudging along the way; and to my editor, Nick Eliopulos, who’s been supportive beyond belief and whose keen story sense has made this book so much better.
Many thanks to everyone at Scholastic for their enthusiasm and faith and for all the amazing work they’ve done to bring my book into the world.
A special thank-you to the members of my writers group for reading my ugly drafts and giving me invaluable feedback: Molly Backes, Logan Turner, and especially Debbie Kraus, who’s helped me through three books now with her insightful critiques. And to my dear friend Merle Reskin, for cheering me on and for providing me with the most charming writer’s hideaway imaginable, Thatchitty Cottage. And my mother and father, avid readers both, who encouraged my love of stories.
And finally, extra-special thanks to my family, immediate and extended, for your love, encouragement, and infinite patience with me when I slipped away during vacations and holidays to write for an hour or two or three….
Kat Falls is the author of the middle-grade science fiction novels Dark Life and Rip Tide, which she describes as “underwater westerns.” Dark Life has been nominated for children’s book awards in ten states and translated into more than a dozen languages around the world. Kat appeared on the Today Show when Dark Life was featured on Al Roker’s Book Club. She grew up in Silver Spring, Maryland, attended Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute as an undergrad, and went on to receive an MFA from N
orthwestern University, where she now teaches. Kat lives in Evanston, Illinois, with her husband and their three children — plus a dog, two cats, and a guinea pig named Toot.
Copyright © 2013 by Kat Falls
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available
First edition, October 2013
Cover art © 2013 by Steve Stone
Cover design by Christopher Stengel
e-ISBN 978-0-545-52034-8
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.