Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) (4 page)

“Tell them what you told me,” she says sweet
ly to Spark. “Tell them how your family earned the power.”

Of the twenty-four people left in Dark DC—and however many Shadows lurk around us—no one is here by accident. Harsh conditions kill the weak pretty quick, and everyone left has a special gift that helps them survive.

My talent is with Magic. I can shoot a yellow-bellied sapsucker in its vital area from across the Mall.
Aura can always find water, Burn can carve intricate tools, and Mrs. Brown can track every kind of game. Star’s gift is different: She makes everyone fall in love with her. More than her beauty, something about her essence—her soul, or whatever is at the core of who she is—draws
people to her. DZs just want to help Star, and even if she couldn’t hunt or plant, no one would let her go hungry. The newest one to fall under her spell is Spark.

He sniffles
and hugs Star around her neck, burying his face into her shoulder. She nudges him kindly with her cheek, and he raises his head to look at us. Aura is closest to Spark and scoots even closer to him along the sofa. The tired springs groan beneath her. Burn has stopped skinning his kill and stands rapt behind the ironing board. Spark is about to reveal the holy grail of the Dark Zone.

“
We go away a lot,” Spark says. He rubs his watering eyes with the back of his hand. “Mom and Dad keep shelters all over because they say it makes us prepared. We spend time in Dark Arlington. In Dark Virginia.”

I
lean toward him, craning my neck.

“The Frontmen came to our
land there and told everyone they would give us electricity if we gave them people,” Spark says. He breaks down into tears. “So we gave them the people.”

“Who did
your family give them?” Star asks softly.

“My brother,” Spark cries. His
throaty sobs come out thick and full of pain. “Every family that gives someone to the United States gets electricity back to their house. Ask any Frontman. He’ll tell you.”

Just yesterday
, I was sure that the Frontmen were silent. That they always had been and always would be mute. But I heard three guards yell this morning, so I know now what he’s saying is possible. Strange—and unlikely—but possible. I have a hard time imagining Frontmen ever talking to DZs, but I’m starting to doubt my own judgments about them. Part of me believes everything Spark is saying is true.

“Thank you,”
Burn says solemnly to Spark.

“You’ve been a good boy,”
Aura adds.

Star hugs him
gently around his waist. Spark’s arms, still looped around her neck, hold her as if she’s his mother. Star takes his small hand with her mitten and stands. I can tell they’re about to leave, but there’s something else I need to know.

“Ho
ld on,” I say. Everyone pauses and Star looks nervous. “Spark, your parents said that they weren’t allowed to tell us that. Why not?”

“The Front
men told us not to,” Spark says, wiping his eyes. He sniffles again. “They only need fifty people. And they only told a few settlements about it. But I wanted to tell you. You’re much nicer than they are. I ran to the Frontier when I heard the crash and saw Star run out to see what happened and had to tell her. She just was so nice.”

Star
leads him outside, and I start pacing as Spark’s words echo in my mind.
Give them people
. I want that bright machine, but now getting it feels impossible. I’d never sacrifice a DZ. Not in a million years. Walking back and forth in front of the sofa, I can feel Aura watching me. I don’t meet her eyes and instead study the thin rug passing under my feet. If I look at her, I’m afraid she’ll see how much I want that power, for myself, for Star, for Wick. She would feel let down, maybe even betrayed, that I want so much more than what I have.

So I
stare at the rug. Its worn pattern of interwoven circles looks like the side of an old gray fish. I replay this morning’s events in my head and suddenly it occurs to me that the breach might be related to the electricity exchange. I have no idea how they might be linked, and I have no reason to think that they are, other than these are the only two strange things that have happened in Dark DC for as long as I can remember. At the very least, it’s something to think about.

Star return
s alone and her eyes are gleaming. She clasps her mittened hands excitedly in front of her as if she’s holding something precious. The last time she looked like this, we had just found a full vending machine in the basement of Adelaide Elementary. I took an axe to it, half-euphoric as I imagined downing the brightly packaged foods, but that’s not what Star wanted to do. She wanted to haul the stuff around Dark DC and give the deliciously crinkling bags to everyone else. So that’s what we did. I’ve never seen her more alive than on that night, being able to give such precious gifts.

A
nd now she has that same look. I know before she admits it that she wants to go talk to the Frontmen.

*

The gate has already been rebuilt. I can see it in the distance, the shining new titanium cut into old concrete. Star and I hasten toward it past the stairway entrance to an old subway. I look down and see darkness obscure the bottom stairs, as if the staircase descends into an endless black pit. When the Blackout struck, I hear trains down there stopped mid-ride. What’s left of the commuters is probably still trapped in the underground cars, but I’ve never had the heart to check.

Star jogs ahead, and I
hurry after her. She’s gone into one of her dazes again. I know her well enough that I can tell she expects this exchange will save Wick. The part about having to hand people over clearly hasn’t hit her yet, but she isn’t rational when she gets like this. That’s why I have to protect her. Stop her if she gets too reckless. Closer now, I can see three Frontmen on the ground in front of the repaired gate, and their guns dangle threateningly from straps slung sideways over their shoulders. My eyes widen in surprise, and from Star’s gasp, I know she’s seen them, too. This is only the second time I’ve seen Frontmen standing in the Dark Zone. One green-suited guard holds a clipboard and points at the gate. The other two nod.

“Hey!”
Star calls after them. She breaks into a run. “What happened with the truck?”

The Frontme
n ignore her. I bolt after Star, fast. She can’t just throw herself in harm’s way like this. She repeats herself, yelling with her hands cupped around her mouth as we approach. Nothing changes. She slows to a stop just a few feet from them, and I position myself between her and the guards. I press my palm against her heaving chest, keeping her back. Containing her carelessness for as long as possible. The Frontmen continue to ignore us. They’re all bigger than I am, and Star shows no sign of letting up.

“What about the exchange?” she
asks. “Can you talk about that? Electricity for DZs?”

The Frontme
n stop talking to each other.

“Carnival request
,” one says into his black wristband. “Over.”

All three of them
turn slowly toward us. Their big jaws and broad chins jut menacingly beneath their black goggles. Star rests her hand fearfully on my forearm still pressed against her chest. I can feel her heart pound through her orange parka, but she’s not going to budge. The Star I know will stay here until she gets her answers.

“Proceed
,” a crackled voice orders from his wristband. “Over.”

Staring at the Frontmen, I gulp.

“Power will be restored to every residence that surrenders a DZ to the United States of America,” one guard says in a deep voice. “The resident must be between sixteen and twenty-one years of age. He or she may consent to be exchanged for electricity, or two co-residents may consent for him or her. All surrendered residents will be collected on the first day of the new year.”

I shiver. That does not feel right.

“What happens to the DZs on the other side?” Star asks.

T
he Frontmen turn away from us without answering. Star steps toward them, but I hold her back. Her eyes dart around my head, looking anxiously to where the Frontmen are going. She pushes doggedly against my steadying hand until I catch her eyes and stare her down. This brings her back to reality. Remember yourself, Star. Remember me. I hug her and whisper in her ear that she did all that she could. Sure, we both want the power, but there’s no way we’d throw anyone to the other side just to get it.

“I love you, too, Phoenix,”
she whispers softly.

We walk back together, but som
ething feels off. Her hand is limp in mine, and she doesn’t seem to hear me when I talk. I don’t mention it out loud, but I get the feeling that Star is holding something back. For now, I’ll let it sit. We can talk more when I see her tonight on the rounds.

*

I spend the rest of the day trapping porcupine. Now, it’s early evening, and the entrails need to be made into bait and the bones into tools. Standing over the ironing board at home, I pluck the thin brown-and-white striped quills out of its skin and set them aside in a pile. We’ll use them later as sewing needles. I pull the quills out faster as a wave of anger overtakes me.

First
the Easies abandon us in the dark. Now, they try to tear our families apart. Hatred for the other side heats my blood as I wipe my hands on a nearby towel. A new fantasy of pulling Magic out of my bag by the Frontier plays in my mind. I imagine how the Frontmen would feel if they saw me aiming at them. Maybe they’d finally understand the fear and uncertainty that we’ve put up with for decades on this side of the wall. Hell, if I ever find them again on this soil—they’re doomed.

“Troublefields!” a shrill voice calls. “It’s Mrs. Campbell!”

She crosses the porch and enters the living room. My hands are fidgeting with the porcupine, so I can only shrug awkwardly. She sets down her bow and leans against the doorframe. Mrs. Campbell is a tall woman with broad shoulders and a nose like a bird beak. She tends to purse her lips and bob her head up and down throughout conversations, as if every sentence she hears is a sip of precious juice.

“Did you
hear
?” she asks.

The Campbells live fa
rthest away from the center of Dark DC. They should be the last to hear everything, but Mrs. Campbell’s gift is for gossip. DZs tend to be private people, but Mrs. Campbell is a little different. She asks the questions that make you squirm.

I nod and draw my mouth into a tight line.

“A breach in the Frontier!” She gawks, shaking her head. “Well, I
never
.”

“Yeah,” I say. I pluck a quill.

“Did you see it?” she asks, leaning closer.

“No,” I lie. I don’t want to get into anything right now. “I was with Star.”

“I see,” she says. “How are you two? Happy as always?”

I pluck another quill. “You know,” I say ambiguously. “The same.”

“Uh-huh,” she says. “So are you two keeping each other warm at night?”

Not going to answer that.

I pluck two quills at once and stab my thumb. A bright-red droplet of blood pools, the brightest thing I’ve seen all day. I sigh in frustration, but not loudly. Sure, she pries too much, but I still can’t hurt her feelings. She’s on the good side of the Frontier after all.

“Hm, not yet?” Mrs. Campbell digs deeper. “Don’t worry. One of these days, you two will drop all of this
romance
and just rip each other’s clothes off.”

This is too much. She doesn’t understand us at all.

“I kind of have some work to do,” I say gently, hiding my annoyance.

“Of
course
,”
she says generously. She reaches for her bow. “And when you two get started,
I’m
happy
to answer any questions. You don’t even have to tell Star. It could be our little secret.”

“Thanks for the tip, Mrs. Campbell,” I say.

She winks and leaves, considering her news delivered. I jiggle my shoulders to shake off the lingering discomfort. Her scrutiny felt like a collar. It’s almost dusk now, and I can see the dim light fading to black through the cracks in our walls. I pack up the quills in anticipation, wiping my hands on my pants. Soon, everything will be better.

Darkness settles as I
make my way to Silk. It’s always some shade of dark here, always some degree of cold, but everything is worse at night. I stride steadily toward her, fast enough to keep warm. I don’t mean to be early again, but I’m just eager to see her. She seemed pretty shaken this morning, so if she needs me, I want to be there to hold her. You’re warm, I’ll tell her. You’re warm. Maybe she’ll laugh when she hears what Mrs. Campbell thought we were doing last night. Then, when she’s calm, we’ll talk about what’s really on our minds: the reason for the breach and the exchange.

I’ve arrived. Already, there’s a faint smile on my lips. The strangeness of today has only heightened the pleasure I’ll feel when I see her.
My heart beats excitedly against my chest as I imagine kissing her ear and breathing in her smoky scent. I pace outside her door and check for her with every turn.