by David Estes
* * *
Tristan
I sprint after her, but the wings of angels seem to carry her away from me. The crack of guns going off all around us reminds me of when the sun dweller army used to train in the fields by our house. Except this is not training. They want to kill every last one of us.
Adele is already up the steps. She turns quickly and yells to those on the platform to “Run!” but she doesn’t have to tell them—they’re already on their feet and heading for the nearest exit.
And then I see it. A sun dweller soldier—his gun aimed from above, right at Adele. I’m too far—I won’t make it; and he won’t miss. It’s over.
A body flies from the side, violently smashing into her and flattening her against the steps. She cries out in pain just as the bullet takes a chunk of the seats behind her.
It’s Trevor. He’s saved her again. Has done what I could not do.
I run toward them, but she’s already pushing up, bucking Trevor off of her as if he weighs nothing. She doesn’t thank him, doesn’t even look at him, keeps moving up the steps.
Just before she ducks into the tunnel beneath the seats, I see her pull a gun from under her tunic. Where did she get a gun? I wonder.
When I reach the steps I take a moment to scan my surroundings, ensuring none of the sun dwellers are making a move to follow Adele. Trevor gets back to his feet and hurriedly follows Adele into the tunnel, and I’m about to follow when I see Ram, standing out in the crowd, dark and bulging with strength. But all the strength in the Tri-Realms won’t save him from hot metal bullets. He’s pinned down behind a row of seats, with three sun dwellers peppering shots at him. He’s trying to hold them off by taking blind shots with his pistol, but he’s not even aiming in the right direction. He’ll die if I don’t do something.
I take five long strides and then roll, grabbing a gun left by a dead Resistance soldier, and feeling the whiz of bullets as one of the enemy combatants tries to take me down. But I know they can’t hit me. I’m too fast, too determined. Coming out of the roll, every bit of my training kicks in. I lock on the first target in less than a second, shoot him somewhere he won’t get up from. But I don’t watch him fall; instead, I swing to the next enemy, who falls when I pull the trigger. The third one has realized I’m targeting the ones shooting at Ram and he ducks before I can get him.
I curse and rush to Ram, who’s watching me with a funny expression on his big face.
“You saved me,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Get back to the main body of men. Take this,” I say, handing him the rifle. I don’t hear if he responds because I’m off, sprinting to the steps, taking them two at a time, hoping I don’t get shot. As I approach the top I see two forms moving swiftly toward me across one of the rows.
I swing to the side, tensing myself for a fight, but drop my hands when I see that it’s Roc and Tawni, eyes wide but fierce and determined. I don’t question their presence—I just say, “Hurry!” and sprint into the gloomy hallway. Adele and Trevor are already halfway down the curve of the tunnel, running hard, Adele holding the gun out in front of her like she actually knows what to do with it. Maybe she does. She seems to know how to do everything. Gritting my teeth, I give chase, hoping to catch her before she runs into half the sun dweller army.
I can feel Roc and Tawni just behind me, moving on silent feet.
I know something isn’t right when we make it a quarter of the way around the Dome without resistance. The place should be teeming with sun dwellers, but instead, all the action seems to be out on the platform. It’s almost as if my father wanted us to go this way, to make it this far. The thought sits in the pit of my stomach like a rotten egg. The crack and pop of guns provides a symphony for the slap of our feet on the stone. I catch up to her five steps later, grab her shoulder. “Adele, wait,” I say.
She whirls around, levels the gun at my head. Her eyes are wild and her hands shaking. She lowers the gun. “Tristan, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“Welcome to the party,” Trevor says from the side.
“Where are they?” Roc says, coming up behind us.
“They have to be in one of these rooms. C’mon,” I say, grabbing Adele’s arm and ushering her forward. We’ve already passed dozens of open doors, all clearly empty, so we slow as we approach the first closed door we’ve come across.
“Shh,” I say, tiptoeing in. One, two, three, I mouth, slamming my shoulder into the door and entering side by side with Adele, the others looking over our shoulders. It’s dark and we can’t see or hear a thing. “Wrong room,” I say.
We leave quickly and continue our search. Another quarter of the way around, we hear voices and as we come around the bend we see five star dweller soldiers come into view.
They raise their rifles.
* * *
Adele
The adrenaline is dictating my every move. When they point their guns at us I don’t hesitate, shoving Tristan hard against the wall, my body flush with his, just as we hear the crack and resulting zing of energy as the bullets fly past. Across from us, Trevor, Roc, and Tawni have managed to do the same. We rebound off the wall in one motion, Tristan and I, charging down the tunnel as the soldiers release their expended shells, readying themselves to shoot again.
But they’re too late. I’m too close and my arm is already up, my aim zeroing in on one of the soldier’s chests. Of all people’s, it’s Brody’s voice that pops into my head: Hold it slightly lower than the target you’re aiming at. Keep it steady, because when you pull the trigger, it’s going to squirm. I lower my arm slightly, tighten my grip, and fire. The guy jerks back as the bullet slams into the same shoulder he was using to lift his gun. He’s thrown back into his partner, whose gun is knocked aside by his flailing arms.
Beside us, Trevor shoots two of the soldiers in quick succession, while Roc comes flying in with an elbow, crashing into the last one.
Neither of the ones I hit is dead and all I want to do is kill them. I stand over their sprawled-out forms, my knuckles white on the gun, my finger tense on the trigger. Their hands are over their heads, pleading, but that just makes me want to pull the trigger more. “No, Adele,” Tristan says.
“It’s what they deserve,” I growl.
“I know, but not like this. You can’t go back from this.”
I know he’s right, but maybe I don’t want to go back. My teeth are grinding against each other, my breaths sharp and animal-like through them, whistling slightly. The only thing steady are my hands, holding death over these fools like an executioner holding a guillotine. “We need to keep moving, find your dad and sister,” Tristan says.
My head snaps toward him and I forget about these guys. All that matters is my family. I lower the gun. Tristan kicks each of the guys in the head and they slump over, unconscious. Roc is grappling for the last guy’s gun, but Trevor puts an end to it with a boot of his own to the guy’s noggin.
We move forward.
Soon we hear voices, muffled at first, but then louder as we approach an open doorway. Light spills from the room and we hear a woman say, “Should I kill them now?”
Which means they’re still alive. Every cell in my body is suddenly alive with energy, urging me forward.
We hear the crackle of the reply over the walkie talkie. “Yes, kill them now,” President Nailin says.
I charge into the room, not waiting for my friends, and this time I’m not taking prisoners. The first thing I see is my dad, struggling against his bindings, his eyes fierce and steely. All he wants is to save Elsey, who is beside him, her face as white as a sheet, all childish dreams about to be torn away from her. A woman in a red uniform has a radio to her lips, but when she sees me she lowers it.
I shoot her point blank in the chest and she topples to the floor.
Two big soldiers close from either side, grabbing at my arm that’s holding the gun. But then Tristan is there, his fist slamming into the left guy’s skull and sending him f
lying. As he grapples with the other guy, I break free and charge toward my dad. His executioner stares at me as I approach, but I’m not looking at him. All I see are my dad’s eyes, my eyes reflected back at me, green and full of life and loving and kind and—
Boom!
The sound is deafening but I barely hear it. I’m choking on my own sobs, but still moving forward as my father slumps to the ground, the light in his eyes extinguished. I’m crying and growling and screaming and shooting—one round, two rounds, three, four, and then I lose count when the gun starts clicking as I use every last bullet.
The executioner is full of holes, spotting red, falling to the ground like my dad, but he manages to shoot again in desperation. God no! I’m praying and willing and trying to use my mind to protect her, but I can’t do a damn thing.
The bullet tears into Elsey’s side, and I hear her scream and see the slick red of blood on her skin before I black out from anguish and exhaustion.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tristan
The world is black, but when I open my eyes all I see is white, the underside of my sheets. Flickering orange light dances through the thin fabric. I have no words to say to her; I have no words to say to anyone.
I pull the covers tighter around me, like a cocoon. Inside I feel safe. Outside is only death and pain and a black, black world. A world created by my father.
Anger plumes within in me, hot and gritty. My fists tighten, my knuckles turning as white as the sheets. I close my eyes, trying to control the fire building within me.
After all, Adele needs me now more than ever. Breathe.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
As the fogginess of sleep clouds my mind, my last thought is:
Adele first, revenge second.
Adele
Waking and sleeping are the same to me, a swirl of confusing madness, one disorienting and dizzying blur of time where my face is always wet, my nightmares are constant, and spots of red flash before my vision, whether I’m awake or not.
My muscles ache and my head is throbbing, but those pains are minor compared to the ache in my chest. The awful, awful ache in my heart, where it’s split in two, rattling around. I can almost hear it clanging around in there.
I’m broken.
And I may never be fixed again.
I slip into another fitful sleep. Or perhaps I’ve just woken up from a nightmare. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adele
Everyone dies sometime. You would think that would make it easier when you lose someone, but it doesn’t. As I lie in bed I let the tears flow freely. I’m not ashamed of them. I’d cry a thousand more if I could, but eventually I’m all cried out and I just roll over and jam my face between my two pillows.
They say his death was instantaneous, that he didn’t feel any pain. A single gunshot to the head. There’s nothing you could do, they said to try to make me feel better. But that’s not the point. The point is he’s dead and I’ll never see him again, never hug him again, never learn from him again.
They say it’s a miracle that Elsey survived. The bullet hit her elbow, shattering it and deflecting before tearing into her ribcage, narrowly missing a handful of vital organs. They could save her, but not her arm. Now she has to learn to do everything with her left hand.
After surviving the Pen, being pursued by Rivet, watching cities being bombed, trekking through the Star Realm, I thought I had proved I didn’t have a breaking point. I was wrong. Everyone has a breaking point. This is mine. The world is dead to me. All that I cared about. All that I loved. Ripped away from me. Wrenched from my shaking hands.
Tristan is here and I know I should talk to him. I haven’t said a word since it all happened. Not to him; not to my mother. Elsey’s still too unwell for visitors, not even family.
But still Tristan comes every day, sits on my bed, talks to me. Lies to me and tells me everything’s going to be okay, even though we both know it’s not.
He told me all about what happened afterwards. How the Resistance somehow managed to kill enough of the sun dweller troops to overwhelm them, eventually driving them away. How they fought like wild animals, with tenacity and heart. How they found us clinging together, amidst the dead, me and Elsey, my teeth chattering as I rocked her back and forth while Tristan used his tunic to put pressure on her gunshot wound. Roc and Tawni, of all people, stood guard over us while Trevor ran to get help. I don’t remember any of that. Although I was apparently conscious for it, my subconscious protected me from the memory.
His father was never there, was just a voice through a speaker. A madman using his pawns to do his bidding.
He sits on my bed, in his normal spot, rests a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m here, Adele,” he says.
A day earlier his touch would have sent tendrils of excitement all through me, but now, it’s just a touch, cold and meaningless.
Finally, I break my silence, although the words come from a new Adele. The old Adele is gone, dead. “I’m toxic, Tristan. Everything and everyone that gets close to me dies. First Cole, now Dad. Stay away from me. STAY AWAY!” My body’s trembling and my fists are ready for a fight, against whoever is in my way, Tristan or his father or whoever.
But he doesn’t leave like I expect him to, like he should do. He stays right there, grabs my hands, pries my claw-like fingers apart. I’ve got nothing left. No fight. My body goes slack and I fall apart in his arms as he holds me, rubs his hands along my back. He doesn’t try to soothe me with words or shush my tortured sobs, just lets me get it all out.
I need something to take the pain away. Just for a minute, a second. My lips find his and I kiss him hard, then harder, practically throwing myself at him. He lets me at first, but then pulls away while still hugging me. “Not this way,” he says. “We need to give it some time.”
I’m glad he’s still thinking clearly.
* * *
The next day I finally go to visit Elsey, who is recovering. With each step I take my heart is breaking. It’s like despite everything I’ve been through, I can’t bear one more tragedy. Tristan holds my hand to make it easier. It’s strange, how different it is holding his hand now from the first time. I mean, I still get the tingles, the tiny bursts of electricity up my forearm, but now it feels so normal, so safe, like we’ve been holding hands for a million years plus a million more. I like the subtle change.
But the strength of the magnetic pull I feel toward him has not subsided whatsoever. When he is near I can always feel him on my skin, in my bones, particularly around my head and down my back. It’s the weirdest thing.
We enter a dim room—only a clouded lantern provides a soft glow. We see the thin outline of my mother, sitting on a bed, looking down at a bump under the covers. Tristan releases my hand and I kneel next to her, gaze at the pale face of my sister, who’s sleeping. She almost looks dead and for a moment I think she might be, but then I see the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
“How is she?” I breathe.
My mom has one hand on my sister, and now she places the other on my shoulder. “She’s a little trooper, hanging in there. She can barely eat because she just throws it back up. The trauma of it all is affecting her entire body. But she’s so positive about everything, it’s hard to keep her down.”
I manage a smile. That’s my sister—a little firecracker. Even with the covers over her, I can tell she’s lost weight. Weight she doesn’t have to lose.
“How’s she taking…”—my voice catches in my throat and I swallow—“Dad?”
Mom’s eyes are misty but she doesn’t cry. She’s tough—like I used to be. “You’ll have to ask her that, but I think she’s handling it better than you or I.”
I nod. “Do you think he’s still somewhere?” I ask, surprising myself, because I didn’t even realize the question was on my mind.
“Elsey does,” she says. “I think that’s one of the reasons she’s handl
ing it so well.”
“Yeah, but do you?”
She tilts her head to the side and chews on the side of her mouth, like she’s really giving my question some serious thought. “You know, I want to believe it and sometimes I do, because I can still remember him, can still feel him here”—she motions to her heart—“but other times I just feel this void and it’s as if he’s disappeared from within the caverns of the earth.”
I nod. I appreciate her honesty. She’s treating me like an adult.
Elsey stirs in her bed, yawns, and then her eyes blink open. “Hi, Adele!” Although her voice is weak, there’s a certain energy in it, but the same energy doesn’t make it to her face, which is ashen. She looks so pale she almost appears dead, if not for her half-open eyes and limp smile.
“Hey, El,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and the waiting tears from my eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I just lost an arm,” she says, smiling weakly.
I bite my lip, wishing I could laugh, if only to make her happy. Underneath the covers it’s easy to forget that she’s not whole anymore.
“It’s okay, Adele,” she says, acting the role of the big sister, as usual. “I survived. Because of you.”
Despite my efforts, a tear rolls down my cheek, stinging my skin. “But you lost…and Dad is….” I can’t get the words out, even now.
“I’m fine,” she says, sticking her jaw out. “And Dad is…in a better place. Away from all the bad people.” Away from all the good people, too, I want to say, but I don’t. How can she be so strong when she’s the one who lost an arm and a father? Why do I feel so weak? I try to think about my sister’s words, try to take strength from them, like she does. Dad is in a better place. Is it true? Is he somewhere, his soul flying high, away from his broken body, away from the turmoil and strife of the Tri-Realms? Is he on Earth, aboveground, seeing the real moon and real sun and real stars for the first time, feeling the wind through his hair, the sunlight on his skin, the rain on his face? Maybe he is. Who am I to say Elsey is wrong? Warmth suddenly fills my chest and I know I’ll get through this, just like all the bad times before. It’s not about what I don’t have, it’s about what I do. My mom. My sister. Tristan. Tawni and Roc and even Trevor. Family and friends—that’s all I’ll ever need.
