Cold Falling White

by G. S. Prendergast

  Somehow this last piece of the puzzle is more horrific than every other piece put together. I could keep asking questions or I could make a run for it. I know I would never make it out of the ship, but there is some satisfaction in the idea of dying in motion at least. Not just on my feet but running and cursing and pulling shit over.

  But I’m not going to run. I’m going to fight. Because if whatever is coming through the rift scares the creatures who created the Nahx and destroyed my world with barely an ounce of remorse, then whatever is coming is really, really bad.

  And there’s nowhere left to run now.

  The lights flare again, this time with a yellow tinge.

  “This one should be discarded,” First says. “Her intelligence will distract her. She is incompletely processed.”

  These creatures have said this to me before, and that time I was ready to defend myself, but now I wonder if there is any point. I might feel superhuman, but these things? They made me. They made the Nahx. What do you call a species that makes superhumans? Gods?

  Blue, who has been motionless on my collar this whole time, suddenly flares brightly and floats up in front of my face.

  “What is this?” First says. I can see he is taken aback from the struggle he seems to be having settling his face into a suitable expression.

  “This is Blue,” I say. “I kind of accidentally kidnapped them, but now we’re friends.”

  The First’s cloud of light veers forward and seems to examine Blue as they float there.

  “This is one of our children.” The First reaches for Blue, but they retreat back to me and seem to cower under my collar.

  First steps back, looking perturbed. I have no desire to harbor a juvenile delinquent, but I’m also reluctant to hand Blue over, since they seem so unwilling.

  “I don’t think they want to join your groupthink,” I say. After all the time we’ve spent together I’m protective of Blue, and I don’t trust this First and their cloud of lights, which is fair, because they did just threaten to kill me.

  First steps forward again, making me edge back.

  “You do not understand how our species works. This juvenile must—”

  Blue suddenly zips up and charges toward the First, making him stumble backward. They twinkle there, vibrating until a low whining buzz begins to resonate around us. First steps back again as the buzzing gets louder.

  “You do not… you are too… undeveloped to…”

  A loud popping noise makes me jump, and a bright flash blinds me for an instant. When I blink my vision back, Blue is gone, and in their place is a second cloud of lights, shimmering and pulsing in vibrant shades of turquoise and indigo. As I watch in horror, this new cloud charges the First, enveloping them, merging with the First’s cloud and causing the human body to twitch and flail and fall to his knees. Finally the merged cloud fragments, with chunks of it breaking off and swirling away until only single lights escape, floating up into the sky and disappearing.

  The First shakes himself and slowly climbs to his feet, turning back to me as the new shimmering azure cloud settles around his head.

  “Blue?”

  “It is difficult for our kind to manage disagreements,” they say, waving vaguely in the direction of the retreating lights. “They gave up.”

  He, they, because I think I’m speaking to Blue now, almost look proud. They lift their fingers up and feel the smile on their face.

  “What were you disagreeing about?”

  “Discarding you,” they say, a bit casually for my tastes. “We have been around you and your friends for so long, Raven. We know how to manage disagreements.”

  Blue’s cloud shifts as they watch me laugh. They even attempt to laugh themselves, but that only makes them cough. For a second it’s as though Blue releases the boy and his eyes flick up to me, pleading, terrified. I reach for his hand just as Blue’s cloud seems to wrest back control.

  “This body is close to death,” they say. “We hoped the Snowflakes might tolerate it for longer, but they wear out, like the others.”

  “Is there nothing you can do?”

  A few seconds go past as Blue moves the boy’s hand in mine, as though they are feeling the shape of my fingers, the texture of my skin. I squeeze back.

  “I admire your compassion, Raven,” they say. “Humans have a lot of compassion under all the… other things.”

  “Yeah. That’s kind of our brand.”

  The boy’s body convulses again, bending and coughing blood onto the snow. Blue’s cloud contracts around him as though trying to give him strength, but he slumps down, and I barely stop him from pitching forward before helping him settle into a sitting position. Kneeling, I wipe the gray blood from his mouth with a corner of the green dress. I don’t know this boy. I don’t even know if there’s enough of him left in there to be aware that I’m here with him. But no one should be alone when they die.

  His eyes unfocus, rolling past me and then back to fix me in an exhausted glare. I can see what a struggle Blue is having speaking through the boy.

  “We don’t… have much time,” they say. The boy’s voice is barely louder than a whisper. “One of the Nahx will take you back to the dunes. There’s a transport waiting.”

  “Okay.” I’ve made my decision. If I’m honest, I was always going to fight, though I feel stronger knowing what I’m fighting for, and why. “Can I ask you one more question?”

  They nod the boy’s head. His nose is running with metallic blood now.

  “How long do the Nahx live?”

  “A long time, like you. If they stay at the high elevations. And avoid grievous injury.” The boy’s face brightens for a moment, and he almost manages a smile. “You love that broken one, August, don’t you?”

  I’m not sure I can blush anymore, but I feel my face heat up.

  “Love was something we did not anticipate. Most of the other animals on this planet aren’t… controlled by it. At least not in the same way. It’s…”

  “Annoying?”

  The boy smiles, but his body spasms and he spits up silver blood.

  “Blue…” I start, because I have a million more questions. But the boy exhales roughly, his mouth bubbling with blood, and then he slides to the side, falling with a soft hiss into the snow. Blue’s cloud releases him, drifting up as though watching, settling there above us, bathing the boy’s body in gentle light. I watch him for a while, and, seeing he’s not breathing, reach forward to close his eyes.

  “I’m ready to go now.” I’m not sure who I’m saying it to. Blue? Or this unknown dead boy who gave his body and life for a fight he never understood?

  “You won’t do this anymore, right?” I say, turning my eyes up to the cloud of lights. “Occupy human bodies like this? If it destroys them?”

  Blue’s cloud bobs back and forth, holding position for a few seconds as though watching me. Then they just drift off, expanding to a less dense cloud, their light dimming as they disappear into the open sky above.

  As though some signal has been sent, a small transport rumbles behind me, rising out of the distant hangar and, seconds later, setting down nearby. The sneering Nahx appears on the ramp.

  “You again,” I say.

  Mud brain, he replies as I board, before returning to the cockpit. He leaves the hatch open when we take off, and I watch the dead boy’s body get smaller and smaller as we fly away.

  RAVEN

  The dunes are silent but for the breathing of the million Snowflake sentinels scattered across the white rolling hills like the petals and leaves of some postapocalyptic tree. Metallic. Not cold, exactly, but impenetrable and hard. Or, at least, we will see how hard.

  Many of them, I now realize, have been partially or almost fully fitted with armor very similar to the Nahx armor. This was never offered to me. Fifth shoved me unceremoniously out of the transport two days and nights ago. He had the courtesy this time to hover only about twenty feet above the ground as he did it. I landed easily, turn
ing to return his sneer with a human sign he should probably learn—my middle finger.

  He gave me a surprisingly kind benediction, as far as high-ranked Nahx go.

  Die without pain, he said.

  I was too shocked to think of any clever retort, so I just raised my other middle finger. Two days and nights I’ve been trying to think of a better comeback, but all I can think is that I hope his Offside recovered.

  We have weapons. Fifth gave me a very powerful rifle, two Nahx knives, and a dozen of their grenades. The other Snowflakes are similarly armed, wondering what we should be aiming at. I pass time by trudging over the dunes, looking for Mandy or anyone else I recognize, but so far I haven’t found anyone. Mostly the other Snowflakes ignore me, though some seem mildly interested.

  “When will it happen?” one of them says to me on the second day.

  “I don’t know.” I trudge on. I don’t like to speak to them; their empty expressions remind me too much of Tucker and how easily he sacrificed his life for us all. Maybe that’s what these Snowflakes are destined for too.

  The sky rumbles, though there is no cloud. The noise jangles my blood, as if making it bubble under my skin. Those who aren’t already staring at the sky turn their faces upward to the vast, cloudless blue dome. As I stare at it, something happens to my vision, as though the blood vessels of my eyeballs are shifting slightly, like a prism turning to more properly focus the light. When the change settles, the sky has taken a new shape—no longer a dome but a funnel, the center of it sinking back into a denser, distant core.

  “What is that?” someone says nearby.

  Some, who are closer to the funnel, begin to run, discarding their weapons and leaping down the rolling dunes. The shimmer of energy rushes into my throat, of all places, and fills my lungs.

  “STOP!” My voice roars so loud, even I’m surprised. The running Snowflakes skid to a halt, turning back to me, as my voice resonates over the rolling sand and snow.

  “We’re here to fight,” I snarl through clenched teeth. “And there is nowhere to run. Stand your ground.”

  “What… what is that? What are we fighting?” one of them, an older man, says. He’s very slight, almost emaciated, and looks like he’s never been in a fight in his life. None of these people have had any training. How do the Fireflies expect us to win this battle for them? I look down at my weapons, at my silvery hands, then up at the sinking sky and try not to give in to the despair that lurks in the recesses of my soul.

  Time has run out. The sky’s rumbling intensifies, the pitch rising until it’s like the screech of some gigantic infernal bird. Several Snowflakes put their hands over their ears, staring at the sky with horror. After a few seconds the screeching stops.

  I can feel the heaviness of the tunneling sky, the pressure of whatever is behind it breaking through the last barriers, and I know I have seconds, minutes at most. I’m only one person in this million, and I’m furious that those who created us didn’t think to do something about our fear. I’m terrified. Along with every other living soul on the dunes, I’m shaking, dry-mouthed, burning-eye terrified. All I have to believe in is myself.

  “Look! Listen!” I shout to those within earshot, my voice still preternaturally loud. “Listen to me! Whatever comes through may not be stronger than us, or prepared for us. That’s our one shot. Understand?”

  They turn and look at one another, but apart from that no one moves.

  “You might not have noticed this because I know you haven’t been thinking, or you’ve forgotten how to think, but they did something to our brains. You need to watch and observe—”

  The sky shrieks again, and several of the Snowflakes near me close their eyes, cowering.

  “No!” I shout. “Open your eyes! Keep your goddamn eyes open! Understand?”

  A dark figure leaps over the top of a dune, landing above me, and I lock eyes with Mandy at last.

  “Thank God,” she says, sliding down the sand. “I thought they’d killed you.”

  We don’t even take the time to embrace, instead grasping arms as I spit out my last hope for life on earth.

  “If we can figure whatever it is out before they figure us out, we can defeat it.”

  Mandy nods. “These zombies probably don’t even know what their brains can do.”

  “Blood,” I say. “It’s not just our brains. It’s everything. Bones, muscles—everything can change as fast as our brains can process the need to. But we have to be hyperalert and trust it. Let it happen.”

  Mandy’s eyes widen. “You’re right! My God, that’s exactly it. That’s the weird feeling. Like when I need to see something?”

  “Yes. Your optical cells change themselves. They can think.” Now my cells are pulsing, as though having figured out this process they can finally kick into top gear. I look down at my hands and make them crackle with electricity, just because I can.

  Glancing up at the sky, I see that the funnel shape has changed. It’s now spreading out, fracturing like a crack. This is the fissure. Now we really do have seconds.

  “Tell them,” I say. “Tell as many as you can.”

  Mandy squeezes my shoulder grimly before turning and running back the way she came.

  I gulp for air, feeling the coldness awaken my insides. My vision is shimmering now, and each beat of my heart is like a camera shutter clicking, recording everything I see, smell, hear, and taste. Dropping to one knee, I take a handful of snow and watch as it melts, boils, and then sizzles in my hand. I have turned my skin burning hot with nothing more than a thought. I turn to the Snowflakes around me.

  “Observe, calculate, react,” I say. “Let your minds relax. Your instinct will tell you what to do and adjust your body as needed, but you need to observe. Keep your eyes open. Understand?”

  A few of them nod. The rest just stare, but I think I’ve gotten my point across.

  “If you think of some defense that might work, your body can make it. You need to let it happen. Tell as many people as you can. Hurry!”

  They scatter, shouting incoherently. Hopefully the message will get across somehow. I run in the other direction, doing my best to spread the only advice I have, the only thing I can think of that gives us any kind of chance.

  “Keep your eyes open. Watch. Analyze. React. Use whatever weapons you have. Let your bodies adapt. Understand? Tell everyone!”

  As I run, and as the instructions spread, a feeling of… not quite calm, but resolve settles over me. The answer is crystal clear now, like a jewel I could just reach out and hold.

  “Eyes open. Analyze and react. You can do it. Lead with your brain. Think.”

  This. This is why they needed us, not robots, not massive machines, not simple weapons. You can only plan a defense against something if you know what it is. Blue’s people don’t know what is coming. What they needed was a weapon that could learn and adapt its defensive strategy instantaneously. What better weapon than the most adaptable creature on earth? Us. Humans. They tried to copy us with the Nahx, but it wasn’t quite right. But we are their weapons, perfected.

  The snezjinka.

  “Don’t overthink it. Go with your first instinct. Observe. React.”

  Load us up with weapons, make us practically immortal, rid our minds of the usual garbage that makes us inefficient, speed up our processing time. Make us superhuman supercomputers and let us come up with a plan. It’s brilliant, really. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so pissed off and almost sure I’m going to die in the process of saving the world.

  Most of us are going to die. That’s pretty clear. But there’s a small chance we can stop whatever this is. I focus on that, focus on Xander and Topher and Mom and Jack and my little stepcousins and anyone else who survived the first attacks and the Nahx darts, on every human life we might be able to save. And this beautiful planet.

  And August. Oh God, I almost laugh with joy at the knowledge that he’s not here. Then my eyes fill with tears because I’ll probably never see him agai
n.

  There’s a terrible earsplitting noise, like nothing I’ve ever heard in my life, like nothing natural, like something from another world. My body shimmers, filling with electricity and fire and acid and any other weapon my cells can conjure.

  I raise my rifle, moving to stand back-to-back with a few other snezjinka, all of us gasping, turning our eyes upward so we can face death unflinching, like the soldiers none of us chose to be.

  The sky opens.

  And the real war begins.

  Acknowledgments

  Every book I write I spend 50 percent of the time thinking “This is the hardest book I’ve ever written” and the other 50 percent of the time thinking “This would kill me if it weren’t for all these people supporting me.”

  Given the above, it’s probably not surprising that the first person I want to thank is my therapist. But right after that is my agent, Barbara Poelle, and everyone at the Irene Goodman Literary Agency, for taking all my calls, listening to my paranoia, fixing looming disasters, and just generally being reassuring.

  Next is of course Zareen Jaffrey, my editor, and everyone else at Simon & Schuster USA—Lauren, Alexa, Justin, Lisa, Dainese, Michelle, Amy, Bridget, André, cover designer Lizzy Bromley, illustrator Larry Rostant, and interior designer Hilary Zarycky. Of course everyone at Simon & Schuster Canada deserves thanks too: Sarah St Pierre, Rita Silva, Jacquelynne Lennard, Mackenzie Croft, Felicia Quon. I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, so if that’s you, just send me a ranty e-mail and I’ll send you some stickers or something! Of course everyone at Simon & Schuster UK deserve thanks, as do Brilliance Audio for taking care of the audiobooks and Oceano for the Spanish edition, Intrinseca Brazil for the Portuguese, and Dogan Egmont for the Turkish! And thanks of course to Heather Baror-Shapiro for arranging all these foreign language editions. My first non-English books ever!