Lifer (18 page)

It might be my home.

Instead of heading back down the mountain, we hit the narrow trails and climb higher. The dirt bikes weave beneath a canopy of oak branches and through blackberry bushes. Either the fires from the Upheaval didn’t make it up here or it’s grown well. Finally it clears ahead and the white tree trunks spread apart to reveal a towering white cross.

Megs stops the bike at its foot and I strain my neck trying to look up to the top. “Does it belong to the Company?”

“No.” It’s Megs who answers as she lifts her helmet and shakes her hair free. “It survived the Upheaval.”

I touch the white surface. Concrete I’m guessing. “I hardly believe it.”

Keane leans back against the structure that survived when whole countries didn’t. “Did New City look familiar?”

I suppress a reaction. Having seen the Company’s base, I realize Megs and Keane might not be my allies and I need to be on guard. Some of my longing for its order must show in my face and Keane won’t miss it. “A little,” I admit.

Megs’ eyes widen and she backs away from me. “He’s Company.”

I hold my hands up, palm out. “I’m Blank.”

Keane stills Megs with a touch on her wrist. “He’s done us no harm…yet.”

Everything I don’t know does my head in. “What’s so bad about the Company?”

“You mean apart from what they’ve done to my family?” Megs spits the question.

This time Keane only looks her way. She turns on her heel and stalks over to sit on a tree stump, her back to us.

“The Company, led by their CEO, is the one pedaling the alien myth. They’re recruiting in preparation of another invasion,” Keane explains.

“You think they’re lying?”

“I think they’re using fear to make people give up their memories and their freedom. They built New City from the ruins of the Upheaval. The more people who go there, the greater their power. Soon they’ll have the strength to round up every person left here.”

“What do they want?”

“To wipe us all out,” Megs calls.

I look to Keane.

“We don’t know,” he admits.

I rub at my aching head. “If the Company really believes aliens are coming, I would think they’d want to recruit fighters like I saw at the warehouse, not be at war with them.”

Keane shakes his head. “Most of the people who go to New City haven’t been seen on patrols. It appears they’re creating a community, not an army.”

It doesn’t make sense. “I saw the markets. Green robes walked around without being harmed by the Company officers.”

“And you saw the warehouse. There are still enough people undecided that they don’t want open warfare on the streets.” Keane looks at the sky like asking for an intervention. “Not for much longer. The other night was the first time they’ve made such a raid. They’re not happy with uneasy coexistence anymore. They’re making their move to wipe us out.”

“What happens then?”

“You were at the raid. You saw what happened to Janic. They have weapons we can’t resist. There will be a massacre.”

In my mind I picture Megs’ brother being shot in the back and my stomach revolts. How could I be part of the Company and not know it? “So you hide in your station waiting for one person to give you away and then let them win?” My raised voice echoes through the trees and a single brown bird launches itself into the sky.

“No.” Keane doesn’t yell. He doesn’t have to.

Megs’ on her feet, crossing to stand between me and Keane. “Don’t tell him everything,” she says with a glance back at me.

I get it. I understand I can’t be trusted with their most secret plans, but coming from Megs it makes my hands curl into frustrated fists. “I don’t want to betray you.”

Keane looks me in the eye. “Then don’t.”

We spin towards the trees at the snap of a twig. “The bikes!” yells Keane, already moving.

Megs and I grab our bike, slide on our helmets and hit the trails close behind Keane. I hope it was an animal or the wind but then there’s a familiar tingle on my spine. “Someone’s firing,” I shout. I’m afraid my words are lost in the roar of the bikes but Megs tenses in front of me

Keane simply accelerates.

Heading toward the ruined city, we veer off the trail and weave between trees. The dirt and grass beneath our wheels turns to gravel. Tiny rocks scatter and shift with every change of direction. Keane’s faster and changes direction easily. Twice we lose him in the trees, but each time he’s ahead when we hit a clearing.

A vehicle rumbles behind us through the undergrowth. I hope whatever the Company officers are on it’s not as agile as the bikes. I wrap my arms tight around Megs, shielding her with my body. In my mind, it’s her instead of Janic on the bed in Recovery.

I hate not being in control of the bike. Megs’ driving is awesome, but I feel useless.

“Left.” Keane’s shout comes to us on the wind.

Megs turns. Hard. Gravel scatters and spews off the ground. We’re sliding. And sliding.

Megs attempts to right the bike but the steep slope provides no traction. She’s heavy on the brakes. The wheel locks. My kneecap skitters close to the ground.

Then I see why Keane called. A few feet ahead gapes a chasm. It’s long and dark and too wide to jump without a ramp or wings.

We’re sliding straight toward it. Holy crap, we’re going to fall. The black, rocky edge grows and grows until it fills my vision. We won’t stop in time. And if we do, we’ll be easy targets for the people chasing.

Our only hope is to right the bike and get it back under control. My heart pounding drowns out all other sounds. Megs’ body vibrates but I don’t know whether she’s screaming or praying or trying to give me instructions.

It doesn’t matter.

Everything in me is focused on fighting gravity and momentum.

What we’re doing isn’t working. Try the opposite. “Off the brakes,” I shout into her ear.

Her body tenses and I think she’s going to ignore me. I don’t blame her. I reach around to help but then her hands move and we’re accelerating again toward the edge. The bike catches on the grassy edge. She’s back in control. We’re upright and parallel. Relief drenches my body in sweat.

“Woohooo!” I scream some kind of victory yell to the sky above and glance behind.

I actually see our chasers. A man drives. He’s about Keane’s age but stockier in build. Behind him sits a dark-skinned girl a couple of years younger than Megs. They’re on a motorcycle too, but it’s bigger than ours.

There’s no sign of weapons and they aren’t looking our way. I’m sure their eyes are wide through clear visors, their gazes fixed on the chasm.

We’re putting more and more space between us and them. They turn the bike and start sliding. A slide they won’t be pulling out of. My stomach twists at the inevitability of it all. The dark-skinned girl leaps for her life, moments before the bike goes over the edge with her bigger partner.

She’s going to make it.

The bike disappears and the girl screams, scrabbling at the edge of the cliff. She looks at me. Although she’s too far away to hear, I read her lips and her wild, begging eyes. “Help me.”

A minute ago the girl fired on us. To wound. Maybe to kill. But letting her fall?

“Stop.” I shout the plea in Megs’ ear. “Please.”

It’s crazy but the bike halts beneath me and I’m off it and running through the grass. My gaze fixed on the girl. A stranger. An enemy. A young girl.

“Blank, what are you doing?”

Megs shouts behind me but I don’t stop. There’s no time, and besides, there’s no words to explain what I’m doing. I don’t understand it.

I duck under an oak branch and stumble to the cliff’s edge. I think she’s gone until I see one small hand holding on to the edge. The knuckles are pale and the veins bulge with the strain.

I’m almost there. I can save her. I have to try.

“Hold on,” I call.

But the hand slips. There’s no scream, only her clattering to a stop a few feet below. “Help me,” she cries again.

I lie flat on my belly. A part of me hears the bike approaching through the grass behind me but I don’t spare Megs a glance. I wriggle closer to the sharp edge, jagged rock biting into my belly. The helmet’s bulky but I don’t waste time taking it off. Instead I reach down to the single hand.

It’s too far. “Damn it.”

I edge out further, and gravel rains down the rock face below. I breathe in dust and cough to clear my throat. Up close, the blackness of the chasm is absolute. Megs stops beside me.

“She’s hanging on,” I mutter.

I wouldn’t blame Megs if she got on the bike and rode away.

“You’re crazy,” she says, dropping to the ground. “What the hell are you going to do with her if we get her out?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

With Megs weighing down my lower body, I manage to touch the hand. The girl’s face remains hidden but her sobs echo on the rock walls. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t hold on. I’m going to fall.”

“Calm down. Take a breath.” I wait a heartbeat for her to get herself under control.

The sobs stop but she’s breathing heavily. “I’m going to fall.”

“Not if we can help it.”

I strain out as far as possible. “Can you take my hand?”

“No.”

“Try.”

Megs grunts as she stops me from sliding down the slippery slope. “Stay with me, Blank.”

This is useless. If only we had a rope. “Wait,” I call and wriggle back to safer land.

The helmet sticks but I get it over my head, shaking sweat onto the ground. The black hoodie follows. I don’t know if the material will hold her weight but it’s worth a try.

The ground’s hard beneath me as I wind the material over my wrist and drop it down toward the girl. “Grab the hoodie.”

Nothing happens.

“Take it.”

The girl groans. And leaps. She hangs in the air and then both hands are on the black material.

The sudden weight yanks my arms so the sockets burn. I’m sliding. The black opens up before me. Everything in me says to let go of the material. But now I see her eyes. Dark brown and awash with tears in a young, terrified face.

There’s no way I’ll let go. We stop falling but we still have to pull her up.

“If it comes to it, let me go,” I say to Megs.

She barks a laugh and her grip on my ankles tightens.

The girl looks at us like we’ve lost our minds. In my case it’s probably true. “We’ll get you out.” I put confidence I don’t feel into the words.

She nods, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe me. Her eyes are still wide, the whites red and bulging as she swings over nothing.

Inch by inch, I pull at the material. Slowly and surely I lift the girl closer to the edge. I’m holding my breath, completely focused on dragging her out. One minute. If I give it everything for sixty seconds I think I’ll have her free.

But the earth’s damaged from the Upheaval.

It starts with one rock. A piece of gravel tumbles down into the darkness. Then another and another. The girl ducks her head to avoid the rain of dirt and gravel in her face. The ground gives way beneath my chest. There’s no time for careful.

My fingers are twisted in the material. I heave on it with everything I have. She rises. Just a fraction. But more and more of the ground crumbles away.

I taste bile. I suck in a breath filled with the scent of sweat. I’m going into the blackness with the girl who tried to kill me.

But letting go and watching her fall?

“Megs,” I shout. “Let. Me. Go.”

“I won’t.”

Arching my body makes things worse. Megs’ hands don’t budge. More guilt settles like a boulder on my back. Unlike me, she has a brother, friends. People who will miss her if she goes off a cliff with me. I close my stinging eyes. We’re all going to die.

“Thank you.” I look down. The soft, calm voice belongs to the girl hanging on the end of my hoodie. “For trying.”

And then, with a final sad smile, she lets go.

[Asher]

“Ready?” Davyd asks.

I look up from the small pile of mending Lady left me to do while she had her afternoon rest. He’s leaning against the doorframe, not looking at the images of his brother that decorate the walls. As usual, Davyd’s focus is all on me.

“Ready for what?”

“Me to keep my word.”

My head snaps up. I jab the needle into my thumb and muffle a cry of pain.

Davyd laughs. “If it scars, will that be a memorial for me?”

“No.”

He places his hand over his heart and adopts a pained expression. “Always second to the wonderful Samuai.”

“Yes.” What scares me isn’t the easy smirk Davyd responds with, it’s the way my memories of Samuai are being replaced by the still pictures surrounding me each night. In my efforts to understand how he died, I’ve become too busy to think of him as much as I should.

In contrast, Zed’s memories linger as a blanket of bittersweet, catching me when I least expect it. Zed’s still around in the taste of a new delicacy he would’ve liked and the amusement I know he’d feel whenever I do something foolish. Maybe I shouldn’t envy Lady her shrine. Maybe one day it’s all she’ll have left.

I tidy up as fast as I can, but my brain’s going even faster. The Control Room? Now? All my mental planning disappears and I taste my nerves in the dryness of my mouth. I fumble, dropping some of the thread.

Davyd laughs. “Nervous?”

“No.” The lie slips out easily. Showing Davyd weakness is like inviting a wild animal for the kill.

“Then why do your hands tremble?”

I curl them into fists and shoot him a glare. “I’m ready.”

I have to be.

Davyd turns and strides out the door. I trail behind. I didn’t expect us to make an attempt on the Control Room in the middle of the afternoon, without any kind of preparation. I wish I’d eaten something for lunch, but after a few days of rich food my stomach’s constantly queasy.

When we reach the hallway I jog to keep up. “What’s the plan?”

He gave me his word but I don’t want to head into the Nauts’ stronghold blind. He halts without warning so I slam into his shoulder. His brow arches in that amusement I despise. “The plan?”