by Katie French
“We should kill them,” Nada whispers, her voice finally trembling. “We should kill them all.”
I say nothing, but inside my body rings with agreement. Yes, dear God, let’s kill these monsters and be rid of them forever.
Twilight is falling and still we wait. No masked attackers arrive on the third floor. The street below is quiet. Lord Merek and his pale wife seem to have left to eat their dinner. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but even if I had food, I don’t think I could eat. My mind keeps replaying Crete’s frantic run down the street, the severed arm whipping back and forth like a pendulum.
A guard is on watch right below our building, so there’s no chance to make it across into the final building. The maddening thing is that we can see the finish line from here. No one has crossed it, but they haven’t called off the game either, so that makes me think that Mister’s team is still alive. And maybe Michal’s team too. We didn’t see them killed, so they may have made it out of the first building.
Nada stares out the window, her elbows resting on her knees. Her thin face is grimy and scraped and large bags have collected under her eyes. Still, she watches, stone-faced, as the sun dips low and streaks the sky orange.
“What do you think Doc’s doing now?” she whispers, leaning her head back against the window casing.
“Worrying about you,” I say as I dig my finger through a layer of dirt by my feet. I write C-L-A-Y and then smooth it away with the palm of my hand.
Nada sighs. “When I’m gone, he’ll have to stop that eventually.”
“I don’t think we ever stop worrying about the people we love.” Ethan. Clay. Auntie. Worry for them hangs around my neck like a leaden yoke.
“You said you have someone you want to take with you if you win.” Nada lifts weary eyes to mine. “Who?”
I pause, wondering if I should tell her. “My aunt,” I say, finally. “She was brought in with me. She’s working as a nanny for Merek’s wives.”
“Not a bad life,” Nada says quietly.
“Not a free life,” I say, drawing swirls into the dust. “You know, we aren’t given much that’s ours.” I look at Nada. “Family is one of the few things we have that matters.”
Nada turns her eyes to the floor, finds a small shard of glass, and picks it up with delicate fingers. “Doc isn’t my blood family.”
“Auntie isn’t my blood, either, but she’s family.” I watch Nada turning the dirty glass shard over in her hands. “When you lose people, you really appreciate the ones still with you.”
Nada gives me a sharp look. “You think I don’t know about loss?”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“I heard them torture and kill the man who raised me while Doc and I hid in the crawl space. He never told them where we were even when they were prying his fingernails off.” Nada’s face is stone again.
“I’m sorry, I say. “I can’t imagine.”
She nods, satisfied. Both our eyes go to the window and watch a vulture turn in slow circles in the distance. Did they dump Crete’s body out there?
“If I get out,” she whispers, “I’m going to the Free Colonies.”
I glance up at her. “Do you know where they are?”
“South,” Nada says, but missing the confidence I’m used to.
“How do you know?”
“A bender by the name of Rickert said he’d been there. He said men and women live together. Benders, too. Everyone was equal and had a vote. Like it used to be.” Nada stares out into the sunset. “How do you think we messed civilization up so bad? I mean, we had a good thing going. Democracy. Freedom.”
“Humans are greedy.” I look around at the destroyed industrial complex. “Whatever we had, we always wanted more. Like a dog, right? No matter how many scraps you throw him, he’ll eat and eat until his belly’s so full, he could explode. People are never satisfied.”
Nada chews her lip for a moment. “The Free Colonies are out there. And I’m going to find them.”
“I hope you do,” I say.
She nods, and for a moment we rest in the stillness as the sky bleeds to pink and the night creatures call out and the breeze picks up. And it’s good, this togetherness, if just for a few minutes.
But soon, engines roar down the street. Nada and I sit up, peering over the window ledge.
The announcer appears at the finish line. “Ladies and gentlemen, contestants. The game will recommence in a few moments. One set of competitors has been eliminated.”
Killed, I think, gritting my teeth.
“Three teams remain,” the announcer says, sweeping his mouth, cupped by two hands, back and forth. “You have twenty minutes to cross the finish line. The first two teams will advance. The rest will be eliminated.”
Killed, I think again.
“Twenty minutes starting…now.”
My eyes go to Nada. Without speaking, we get up and scan left and right. A stairwell door stands ajar behind us, leading down to an alley between the buildings. But the cover there is poor and a guard seems to be scanning the alley like he knows that’s where we’ll pop out.
“What do we do?” Blood pounds in my brain. I can’t think.
“Run for it?” Nada asks, glancing down into the street. More guards have assembled.
I shake my head. “There has to be a better way.”
Nada looks outside. Then her hand cinches around my arm. “Riley.”
My eyes follow to where she’s pointing. We’ve been so focused on the street we never looked toward the back of the building. On the roof, a metal water tower has toppled over and is leaning down on the adjacent building’s roof. Four rusty metal legs span the gap like a bridge. If we could get across the legs, we could drop down to the roof, slink down the stairs, and run out to the finish line.
But that’s a big if.
“What do you think?” I whisper.
Nada leans so close. “It looks awful, but it might be our only chance.”
I glance at the street. Three guards mill around the alley below us. Another prowls the street on his four-wheeler.
“Okay, let’s go.”
We tiptoe up the staircase to the roof. The door stands ajar, graffiti in green and blue paint tagging the exit with words I sound out—JAZ RULZ and BORDER TOWN 4 LIFE. When we slink out into the open air, the sun has set and the sky is a deep blue. There’s still light to see by, but not much. It doesn’t matter. We only have about eighteen minutes anyway.
We run to the collapsed water tower, careful to stay out of sight of the guards below. The tarpaper roof throws up heat from the day, but I’m too panicked to care. What if we can’t shimmy across? What if we fall? We’re up five stories now. When we get to the edge and peer down into the alley, my stomach flips.
Nada, beside me, peers down, too. Then she steps back and shakes her head. “No.”
“What?”
She glances up at me, her face flush with anxiety. “I hate heights.”
I look down at the unforgiving pavement. “Join the club.”
We walk to where the top two legs of the water tower have broken off from the roof. The bottom two legs are still attached here, but the metal plates have been wrenched at a ninety-degree angle. Bolts the size of my forearm jut from the rusted holes. The legs are as big around as a massive tree trunk. I hoist myself up on one, careful to do it over the roof where a fall will mean a bruise and not death. The metal is still hot from the sun, but not searing. It’s rusted and flakes off under my palms as I inch forward. But the leg is bigger than I thought, round enough that I can scoot across on my hands and knees if I’m careful. I look across gap to the other roof, some thirty feet away and then back at Nada.
“We can do this,” I say. “Let’s go.”
She gives me a wilted look, but climbs up after me, the steel leg vibrating. At least I’ll be able to feel her behind me.
With the time ticking down, we crawl along the metal as fast as we can. I keep flicking glances to the street
four stories below, my stomach churning. At least the guards haven’t spotted us.
When we’re halfway across, an explosion erupts from the third building across the street. Nada and I both jump and cling to the warm metal. Terrified, we watch as fire and smoke curl up from the broken windows of the warehouse across the street. The guards run toward the sound of the blast. Thank God they’re leaving, I think, as I slowly push back up to my hands and knees. This is going better than I thought. For us at least.
“Hey!” someone yells from below.
I look down. A guard has spotted us. He waves others to him.
“Nada, we have to hurry!” I say, scooting forward as fast as I can, but it’s too slow. Merek’s four-wheeler roars toward us. Guards are pulling out crossbows.
“Run, Riley! We have to run!” I look back. Nada stands, arms out for balance, face splattered with terror.
I stand up, the terror at falling big, but the thought of being shot bigger.
We run. One foot thuds in front of the other as the bolts slice the air. The metal is slippery, and the tower’s leg tapers as we get closer to the roof. One wrong step and we’re dead.
A bolt slices the air inches from my face, and I teeter. My arms wheel through the air, but there’s no balance. Nothing to grab. I drop down, clinging to the round metal beam, shaking. I’m frozen in place, my arms and legs wrapped around the only solid thing in a vast space of empty air. Below me, the street looks miles down. And the guard is taking aim.
A hand grabs my ankle. When I look back, Nada gives me a look of fierce determination. “Go!”
I find the strength to scoot forward, still clinging to the beam.
The rooftop nears as our feet and hands pound out a rhythm on the metal. Another crossbow bolt cuts the air above us. Nada shrieks. I jump the last two feet and tumble onto the roof, rolling through hard gravel that bites at my skin. When I skid to a stop, I look back. Nada lies on her side next to me, rolled up like an injured animal. I drag my aching body over to her. “Nada?”
Slowly she unrolls. Her tired, dirt streaked face is tightened with pain. “My ankle.”
“Ten minutes,” the announcer yells from the street.
I drag Nada up, but she feels like a broken thing. She staggers after me, through the door and down the stairs to the main floor of the warehouse. This one has one main room with high ceilings. Broken skylights let in moonbeams. On the floor, there are pockets of debris everywhere—crates, tires, trash, and rusted hooks. After that, dark hallways lead to dark corners. So many places for attackers to hide. So many possible traps. And the guards could come in any second.
“How far is it?” Nada’s voice is weak.
“Not far,” I say, tugging her up. “Let’s just run, okay? Can you run?”
She says nothing. Her limp is terrible. “Okay,” she whispers. “I can run.”
“Good.” I take her hand and lead her in.
Trash crunches under our feet as we jog. My eyes flick from dark pile to dark pile. Something awful must lurk under these drifts of garbage.
A large shape rushes out of the dark at us. I skid right, my heart pounding in my chest. An attacker! But the hulking shape—no, two shapes—doesn’t head for us. Instead they head for the door. It’s Mister and his partner. They’re going to beat us there.
“Come on!” I yell at Nada, tugging her sluggish form.
My foot connects with a cable of some sort and my swinging leg drags it taut. I start to fall, but Nada catches me and pulls me up. Relief floods my body until a sizzling sound hisses from the wings.
The explosion sends us both flying.
For long moments, blackness hangs around my vision like a curtain. Slowly it clears, and I lie on my back, looking up at the busted sky lights, trying to locate my body. My ears ring and my head spins. Nada’s face appears above mine, wreathed in orange light. Orange light? Where’s that coming from?
“Fire!” Nada says, shaking me.
Fire. I stagger up, topple sideways, and push up again. The explosion set the garbage-covered floor on fire. Piles of paper and wood are burning. The orange flames lick up the walls, creep over the floor. It all burns way too fast, like someone poured gasoline on the flames.
I look around the inferno, panic blaring like an alarm in my brain. We’re in the dead center of the warehouse and all around us fire burns.
“Five minutes,” booms announcer’s voice.
Nada tugs me forward, and rushes us through the lowest burning flames. My shins sting from the heat as we run past, but if we run it won’t catch our clothes on fire. The door is only twenty feet away. But when we reach it, it won’t open.
“Mister,” I say, coughing through the smoke. “He’s locked us in.”
“He what?” Nada whips her head back and forth in a wild panic. “Riley, we’re gonna die!”
We find a small spot that’s not burning and hunker low. My eyes flit from fire to fire, my terror threatening to blot out all thought. Nada’s hand squeezes mine. My skin bakes. My lungs sear.
Think, I command myself. The skylights are three stories up and there’s no scaffold, no chains to climb. To our left, a wall crackles in the blaze. Burning planks fall and spray sparks. Through the gaps that appear through the flames, the road outside appears.
“Two minutes!” the announcer cries. He sounds frenzied, ready for blood.
What will Auntie do when I die? Work the rest of her days avoiding beheadings by doing whatever awful deed Merek asks of her? I swipe away ash and tears. Nada drops her head. Between coughing fits, I hear her begin to cry.
More wood burns and falls from the section of wall that’s aflame. The roof groans and we both look up, crouching in fear. Being crushed by the roof would be better than burning alive. It’s awful I have to think that.
“Nada,” I say, tugging on her. “What if we run through that wall?” I point to the far side of the warehouse, pulsing with orange fire.
“It’s burning,” she says like I’m crazy.
“Look, I can see the street.” I point at the holes now visible in the flames. “If we sprint, we might be able to break through without catching on fire.”
She gives me a look. “It’s a wall.”
“What choice do we have?”
She shakes her head, but stands up. “No choice.”
I take her hand. She squeezes mine. In this light, she looks like a child. In another life I could’ve given her piggy-back rides around the yard or dressed her up in old hand-me-downs. I shake the image away as another beam crackles and falls, shooting sparks our way.
Time to go.
We run. Legs pump. Arms wheel. We dodge three burning pyres before approaching to the wall of flame. Orange and yellow tongues roar twenty feet above us. Burning boards pile up at the base of the wall, so we’ll have to jump. There is a gap, but it’s small. If the rest of the wall doesn’t budge, we’ll smack into it and be trapped.
We’ll burn. Die.
We hurdle at the wall. The heat is like nothing I’ve ever felt. It sucks my breath away. My body collides with something, the wall. We’re done for, I think. My skin burns. I can’t breathe. I can’t see.
When I land on my back, any remaining wind huffs out of my chest. Another form crashes on top of me as I suck for air. Nada. We’re lying outside the warehouse. We made it through. As I gasp for breath, I try to pull myself and Nada away from the heat of the fire. My hands feel raw, my shoulders, too. But when I look up, I see Mister, his partner, the announcer, and Lord Merek looking at us like we’ve sprouted two heads. He looks too surprised to shoot us.
Nada and I limp across the finish line and collapse.
Chapter 19
Ethan
“You have to help him,” I whisper to Betsy.
In bed, Betsy has her back to me, a mountain covered with a flowered sheet. I picture horses scampering up her back and down into the folds of her belly. “Miss Nessa already helped Clay,” she says, not rolling over. “Go to sleep.”<
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“All he does is cry,” I say, feeling baby tears of my own. I order them back into my eyeballs, but they’re dumb and don’t listen, so I flick them away with mad fingers. “He never cried before.”
Betsy is quiet. Outside a Jeep rumbles by. There’s been a lot of Jeeps rumbling by. Something’s gonna happen any day now. Something bad.
“Maybe Clay’s just having a hard time adjusting to his new self,” she says, rolling over. She’s got her wig off again and I try not to look at her cut-up head. “He’ll be right as rain in a few days. Now go to sleep, dunderhead.”
I ball my mad fists up. “He won’t be fine. Miss Nessa broke his brain. Like she broke…” I stop and look over at Betsy.
“Like she broke what?” she asks, sitting up in bed. When I don’t answer, she grabs my arm.
“Like she broke you,” I whisper.
Betsy throws my arm down and rolls out of bed. Meaty footsteps thud to the window. She stands in the moonlight and holds herself.
I lie in the bed, feeling bad. Betsy is crazy, but it isn’t her fault. Slowly I get up and stand behind her. Outside more Jeeps rumble.
“Sorry,” I say.
She sniffs. I hear her chewing her lips like my rabbit used to gnaw the wire of his cage. Her lips will be bloody in the morning. Miss Nessa will be mad.
“It’s not your fault you’re broken,” I say, shuffling my feet.
She whirls on me. In the moonlight, she looks scary—her eyes are huge like lizard eyes and they laser in on me. Her lips are bleeding and, with the scars on her bald head, she could be a comic book monster. I back up.
“I could help Clay,” she hisses, coming after me. “I’ve helped Nessa with two of these operations already.” Her spit sprays in my face as she talks. “She put a chip in his brain. She knows how to do it now because of me. Because my brain was first.” She stabs a finger at her scalp as she takes a step forward and her face gets too near.
I step back again.
“I could help him,” she whispers, “but I won’t because you’re being naughty!” She grabs for my arm.
