by Ramona Finn
“Sounds like our ride,” said Ben, and I felt something like hope.
Chapter Thirty-One
“We did pretty well,” said Ben, “all things considered.” He sat sprawled out beside me in the back of the truck, watching the exper flash by. “Five bags of blasters, and a hell of a bang.”
“We really need all these guns?” I rubbed at my temples, half-sick from the static.
“That bad?”
“Not really.” I closed my eyes and leaned back. “I think I’m getting used to it. I can push it down now, fence it off from my thoughts. But it’s still annoying, like an itch in my head.”
Ben didn’t say anything, and I let myself drift, looking for something good, some bright spark of memory to ease my heartache. I thought of Lock in the toy shop, but it hurt to remember that, so I pushed the thought away. I thought of Gran’s place instead, her cards and her potions, those little pots of jam. I thought of her hugs, always tight, always warm. That hurt even worse, and I opened my eyes.
“You okay?” Ben leaned in closer, and I let him, craving warmth.
“I never thanked you,” I said. “For getting that gretha.”
“I hope it’s enough.” His knee nudged up on mine. “We had three tanks, to start with, but—”
“But what?”
“If I tell you, you’ll blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault. A lot went wrong, not just—”
“What?”
Ben sighed, a weary sound. “One of the tanks took a hit. It blew up.”
I waited for tears to come, the heavy well of sadness, but all I felt was cold. “That’s how they died, those other three.”
“Rob, Tam, and Victor.” Ben’s hand twitched next to mine. “What happened with Ona?”
I stared up at the black sky. “I screwed that up too.” A shiver went through me, and I hugged myself. “The way she looked at me, the things she said—I hurt her. I’ve been hurting her. Maybe I pushed too hard, or I wasn’t there when she needed me, but it all felt too late.”
“You tried. That’s what matters. You did what you believed in.”
“I tried?” I choked back a bitter laugh. “You haven’t heard the worst part. She wanted to come with me. She almost did. She wanted to forgive me, but I ruined it. I lied to her—I lost her. I thought...” I touched my cheek, where she’d marked me with her blood. Ben reached out, hesitant, and laid his hand over mine.
“It’s never too late,” he said. “Not while you’re both still alive.”
I tried to say something, but the words stuck in my throat. I wanted to throw myself into his arms, wrap myself up in him and not think for a while. I wanted his hands in my hair, his pulse against my cheek. I wanted to lie against him and feel him breathe—to feel, more than hear, his murmured reassurances.
I pulled back instead, and his hand fell away. I took it in both of mine, squeezed it, and let it drop. “Thank you,” I said.
Ben just looked at me. His eyes were black behind his mask, his expression unreadable. We rode on in silence, the Spire dwindling at our backs. I tried not to think of anything at all, of Ben at my side or Lock up the mountain, Ona in her glittering cage. Prium regained consciousness and sat sullen under Starkey’s watchful eye. At last, I saw the riverbed, a black scrawl across the desert.
“Here’s the river,” said Ben. “And our welcoming party.” A truck sat on the bank, barely visible in the dark. Sergey pulled up next to it, and Ben jumped down. Jetha strode forth to meet us and made a beeline for the back seat. She reached in the window and flipped up Prium’s mask.
“Well, I’ll be damned. It’s really him.”
“He’s not coming with us,” said Starkey.
Jetha nodded. “We’ll take him. We’ll take your guns too, back to Stillwater.”
I glanced at Ben. “Stillwater?”
“The village by the river.” He shrugged. “You’ll see in spring. The water runs slow, pools in the valley. So, Stillwater.”
Jetha eyed us critically. “I brought a stretcher. Will you four be okay, getting back to the Nest?”
“We’re good,” said Jasper. “My leg’s sprained, not broken. Once we get up there, I’ll be fine to work on Lock.”
“How was he when you left?” I turned pleading eyes on Jetha. “Did he wake up at all? Was he talking?”
“He was still with us two hours ago.” Jetha’s expression turned grim. “As for the rest, I’d advise you don’t dawdle.”
Ben laid out the stretcher, and I helped Jasper lie down. Starkey set a brisk pace for the mountains, not quite a jog. I put my head down and shut out everything but the path under my feet, the crunch of dirt, the spill of pebbles, frost-slicks hidden under grass. The dawn set the snow on fire, and I mouthed a silent prayer—hold on. Just hold on.
One more goodbye would break me.
I ran ahead through the Nest and burst into Lock’s sickroom. He wasn’t alone. An old man stood over him, closing his eyes with a cloth. I must have cried out, because the old man jumped back, startled, and dropped his cloth on the floor.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said. “See? He’s still breathing. I’m just cleaning him up.”
“Cleaning—” I hunched over dizzily. “He’s alive? You’re sure?”
“It’s been some time since I’ve practiced medicine, but I still know living from dead. Come hold his hand. He’s been waiting.”
I rushed to Lock’s side, drawing strength from the old doctor’s calm. His hand twitched toward me, and I took it. It felt strange in my grasp, cold and spongy. His eyelids had swelled shut, lashes sticky with pus.
“What’s happening to him?”
“Let me take a look.” Jasper limped in, supported by Ben. He made his way to Lock’s bedside and pulled back the covers. I stifled a whimper—Lock’s limbs were swollen, his skin mottled and gray. He was bleeding from old wounds, through scar tissue gone soft. A rotten smell rose from him, like meat that’d gone off.
“Jasper?”
He reached for his stethoscope and listened to Lock’s heart. Pressed his thumb to an old scar, bringing clear fluid to the surface.
“He’s deteriorating,” he said. “The skin tends to go last, so we don’t have much time. Jerrod, secure his legs.”
The old doctor moved in, strapping Lock down at the ankles. Jasper got his wrists and buckled a strap over his chest. He shook his head doubtfully and turned to me.
“Do you think you can hold him if he breaks his restraints?”
“Breaks them?” I looked down at Lock. He lay weak as a kitten, flesh all but melting from his bones. “He couldn’t snap a bootlace, much less leather straps.”
“Right now, no, he couldn’t. But if my bots do their job, well—” He scratched his chin, pensive. “Nobody’s tried this before. I can’t predict his response. Best-case scenario, he’ll sleep through the whole thing.”
“And worst-case scenario?”
“I don’t know.” Jasper fetched a strange device, like a long metal cage, and fitted it to Lock’s leg. It dug into his flesh, spilling blood on the sheets.
“What’s that for?”
“It’ll take a few hours to complete the infusion. This holds the needles in place, so he can’t rip them out.” He tapped a series of metal canisters welded to the cage. I counted five in all.
“He has to take all of those?”
“Every last one. But after the initial shock, his body should acclimate. If he survives that, he might just pull through.”
“Oh, Lock.” I held his hand gently, careful not to squeeze him. “I’m here. Just hold on. Just—there’s a nice stream up here. You can take a bath when we’re done. You can slip right on in there, rinse the sand off your back.”
I babbled on, frantic, but if my words reached Lock’s ears, he gave no sign. Jasper moved around us, topping up Lock’s IV. He cleaned out his wounds and bound them with gauze, fixed a mask over his face and hooked up his gretha. Lock’s breathing settled as Jasper dia
led up the flow.
“All ready?”
I licked my lips, tasting salt. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“It’s anything but.” Jasper cleared his throat. “Like I said, no one’s tried this. I can’t promise he’ll live. I can’t swear, if he does, he’ll be the Lock you remember. But this is our only option. It’s this, or let him go.”
My chest felt tight. I looked for Ben, but he’d vanished. I didn’t blame him. He’d seen enough death for one night, and this wasn’t his fight.
“Do it,” I said.
Jasper tapped the first canister. I heard a faint whine, like a computer starting up. A green light blinked on, and then... nothing. Lock lay unmoving, his hand limp in mine. His breath gurgled in his lungs. He was grinding his teeth, a soft, constant scrape—grinding and grinding, a vein pulsing in his jaw. I glanced at Jasper.
“Are you sure it went—”
Lock arched off the bed with a terrible, dying howl. Blood burst from his throat and splattered the inside of his mask. He seized and thrashed like he was drowning, and his right arm burst its cuff. He swung wild and knocked Jasper off his feet.
“Hold him,” roared Jerrod, and my paralysis broke. I threw myself on the bed, pinning Lock under my weight. It wasn’t enough. Lock kicked out hard, and his left leg broke free. His whole body went stiff, like a sculpture in marble, every cord in his neck straining against his skin. His lips peeled back from his teeth and his eyes opened wide. His chest restraint snapped, the buckle gouging my chin. Lock’s back bent the wrong way, like a jackknife in reverse. I felt his ribs crack, heard his breathing turn to choking.
“Stop him!” I flung myself on his chest, but it was like he’d turned to stone. His back popped and crackled, and I heard something tear. “He’ll break his spine. Make him—”
Jasper hauled himself upright. He’d gone pale with shock, but his voice rang with authority. “Don’t try to move him. You’ll just hurt him worse.”
“But—”
Lock made a retching sound. Jerrod lurched to his side. He tore the mask from Lock’s face, but his head wouldn’t turn. Vomit poured down his cheeks and soaked into the pillow. Jerrod cursed aloud.
“Suction. Get me suction!”
“By the ventilator.”
Jerrod grabbed an evil-looking instrument, a gleaming metal nozzle hooked up to a hose. He jammed it in Lock’s mouth, and a terrible sound filled my ears, all wet and messy, like breathing through soup. I stroked Lock’s hair, trying to comfort him, but his cries gurgled through his vomit, raw with pain.
“Airway’s clear,” said Jerrod. He got Lock’s mask back on him, and I felt his breathing ease. I wrapped my arms around him and willed him to keep going.
“You’re okay,” I told him, whispering the promise into his neck. “I know it hurts now, but you’ve got to hold on. Just do that, keep breathing, and I swear, it’ll get better.”
Lock moaned, a bloody sound wrenched from deep within. His eyes were wet, the tears streaming red instead of clear. His fist thumped on the bed, and a tremor ran through him. His face twitched, then his foot, and he fell back on the mattress. He coughed, licked his lips, and finally, finally his eyes seemed to focus.
“Lock?”
He made a faint sound, lips moving under his mask.
“Jasper. He’s looking at me.”
“Why, yes. Yes, he is.” Jasper shone a light in his eyes and watched the pupils contract. “Now, let’s see—” He unwound one of Lock’s bandages, and I whooped out loud. Where there’d once been dead flesh, stinking with pus, clean new skin was forming. Lock was losing his gray pallor, his breathing returning to normal.
“So he’ll be okay?”
Jasper frowned. “He’s not out of the woods yet. But this is promising. An excellent start.”
Lock’s eyes drifted shut, and my heart caught in my throat. “What happened? What was that?”
“He went to sleep, I think.” Jasper tested Lock’s pulse and let out a shaky chuckle. “Yep. He’s just sleeping. You can stay with him if you’d like, but we should get him cleaned up.”
“Yeah. Yeah—he hates to be dirty.” I thumbed puke off his cheek. “He won’t remember this, will he?”
“Probably not.”
I leaned down and kissed him, where his mask had slid down his forehead. “Sleep well,” I told him. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
We drove back to Stillwater on a clear fall afternoon. The air was cool and bracing, the sun pale overhead. Some wistful song was playing, one I’d heard around camp.
“I’ve missed this,” said Lock. “Driving, I mean. The wind in my face, some sweet tunes on the radio. Next to a good bath, this is where it’s at.”
“Oh, yeah?” I stretched out in my seat, stretched till my back cracked. “Got a list, do you? Like, Lock’s all-time top five?”
“I do, actually. But you’re making fun of me, so I’m not gonna tell you.”
I blew him a raspberry, but he just laughed me off.
“I like this too,” I said. “I almost wish we could keep going, just head straight past Stillwater, all the way to the coast.”
Lock made a snorting sound. “That’s hundreds of miles.”
“Now, who’s making fun?” I flicked him halfheartedly. “Wouldn’t you want to see the ocean?”
“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t.” Lock turned toward Stillwater, heading down the valley. “If it’s like Sky, then no. I mean, not full of towers, but... remember our Ascension?”
I shuddered. “How could I forget? Watching the Dirt fall away, trying to pick out my parents in the crowd—”
“The best part for me was the night before.” Lock smiled, sad and wan. “We had this big dinner, me and my whole family. They were all so excited, and I got caught up in it. I got this feeling, this certainty—I just knew it’d be great. That was it for me, that moment, my dream coming true. My dumb, crappy dream.” He huffed laughter through his nose.
“I get that,” I said. “I was that way with the sun, built it up in my head into this magnificent thing. And the worst part—it is. But my fantasy was so wrong, the first time I saw it, I was like... really? That’s it?”
“So we won’t dream of the ocean.” Lock flashed me a grin. “We won’t read about it, or look at pictures. We’ll drive out there one day, when all this is over, and we’ll just be surprised.” He pulled up to the gates and leaned out past the windshield. “Hey. When the earth breathes?”
“You’re supposed to wait for the challenge.” The guard shot us a black look, but he let us through. We parked our truck with the others, and I reached for my seat belt.
“I should go see Jetha. She said to come straight away.”
“I’m coming too.” Lock made to get out, but I held him back.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “I’ve put you through plenty, dragged you in deep enough. If you’d died because of me—”
“Because of you? You saved me.” Lock turned to me, incredulous. “Look, I should’ve said this sooner, but I’ve been meaning to thank you. This should have been my fight all along—not just mine, but all of ours, every worker, every Decemite. Everyone burning their lives away so Lazrad can have her empire.”
“Lock—”
He laughed so loud I jumped, and he broke out in a grin. “Don’t you see? I was living like a coward till you showed me the light. It was right there in front of me, everything I didn’t want to see, but I wouldn’t look. You made me look.” His gray eyes blazed bright. “Without you, I’d still be dying, but I’d be dying blind. I’d be dying for nothing, and what good is that?”
“How are you feeling?” I pressed my palm to his forehead, but Lock shook me off.
“I’m fine. Better than fine. Jasper knows what he’s doing.”
I had to admit he looked good, clear-eyed and ruddy-cheeked. He jumped out of the truck without trouble and helped me down after. His hand was warm in mine, his skin
smooth and healthy. But Jasper had warned us he might not have long. His bots were untested, at least in humans. They might last for years or crap out in a month. If they failed again, somewhere in the desert—
“Stop worrying. I can feel you worrying.” Lock aimed a poke at my ribs. I dodged and poked him back.
“We should go,” I said. “Everyone’ll be waiting.”
We headed across the courtyard, toward the big house. Everyone had come down for this, leaders from far and wide, all descending on Stillwater to discuss our next move.
“You think they’ll take us along when they check out those new Domes?”
I shrugged. “If they want us, great. If they don’t, we’ll go anyway. What are they going to do? Tell us no?”
Lock chuckled. “Same old Myla.”
“I have to see for myself,” I said. “I have to know if it’s better out there, or if they’re all living their own nightmares. If every Sky has its Dirt, or if there’s some other way.”
Lock’s hand brushed mine as we made our way inside. “There will be,” he said. “I have to believe that.”
“Ah, Lock. Myla.” Jetha waved us in. “We’re just waiting for Starkey, and we’ll get started.” She herded us into an overflowing hall. Chairs had been pulled in, nine rows in all, guests packed elbow to elbow like sardines in a tin. More had gathered behind them and crowded along the walls. I knew a few faces from Ben’s old camp, but most of them were strangers, hard-faced men and women who’d been fighting all their lives.
“These are Myla and Lock,” said Jetha. “The ones who found the maps.”
A murmur went up, not entirely enthusiastic. I heard doubt, disapproval, a cautious curiosity. Lock pulled a face.
“Don’t all applaud at once.”
That got a laugh, and the tension seemed to ease.
“We should’ve done this outside,” said someone. “In the square, where there’s air.”
“Well, if Starkey’s not coming—”
