by Susan Kim
Although it was undeniably beautiful, the wide and empty expanse had made Skar uneasy. “It’s too obvious a place. . . . It would be the first place anyone would search,” she said. “And there’s no place to hide.”
“But look.” Michal had already found that the large doors opened onto a terrace. She called to Kai, who ran past her onto the flagstone surface. Beyond the white cement fence that encircled its perimeter lay the entire city of Mundreel spread out beneath them, the massive buildings as tiny as Kai’s toys. Michal had lifted the veil she always wore to feel the mountain breeze.
Skar had joined her. Yet she was not admiring the view; she had already noticed something in the distance. Although they were too far away to say for certain, she thought she recognized a distinctive building. It was made of a glittering yellow material that reflected the sky. If so, that meant she knew where the District was. . . .
Within moments, the variant girl had dragged out some old bedding she had seen inside the large room. She placed it in the center of the terrace, then dug the firestarter out of her pouch. It had taken several moments for the mattress to catch fire; the shredded white plastic that covered it crackled and melted at first, refusing to light. But at last the stuffing beneath it had ignited and soon the entire thing was ablaze, sending up foul-smelling smoke.
Holding Kai back from the flames, Michal had watched her partner questioningly.
“For Esther,” was all Skar replied.
“What if it draws someone else?”
Skar had only shrugged. The other girl nodded with sober understanding.
That was more than three weeks ago.
Even now, Skar followed the same routine every morning. At dawn, she went hunting with the bow and arrows Silas had Gleaned for her. Then, with her freshly killed prey dangling from her belt, she climbed to the mountainside terrace, gathering whatever she could find on the way that would burn: bits of furniture, discarded clothing and books, rotted wood. After building a fresh fire, she would watch the horizon.
But there was never a response.
Skar didn’t bother tormenting herself with possibilities. Although she did not know why Esther had not followed her that night, it was not in her nature to dwell on what might have happened. All she knew was that she had complete faith in her friend’s resourcefulness, strength, and determination. She also understood that if Esther were still alive, nothing on earth could keep her away from her children and loved ones. She would spend every waking moment searching for them, and so it was Skar’s obligation to provide her with a sign.
Yet after so many days, Skar was growing uncertain.
Brooding, she now sat alone on the white stone balustrade. Her knees were drawn up to her chin as she stared down over the city. Behind her, the fire sent thick black smoke wafting up into the purple-and-orange sky; the sun was close to the horizon and soon it would be time to return home for the night.
More and more, Skar wanted to return to the District to find out for herself what had befallen Esther. It was all she could do to keep herself from slipping back at night and breaking in. Yet she was aware that even when hooded, she was far too noticeable to casual onlookers. She also knew that although she had struggled to teach the others how to hunt, Michal, Silas, and Uri were still clumsy with the bow. Nor did they have any knowledge of how to track, stalk, or hide.
In short, Skar could not afford to let herself be caught.
Resigned, she was about to get up and return home.
Then she froze.
Something or someone was nearby. Skar had heard the crackle of a broken twig, seen a movement in the branches out of the corner of her eye, and sensed a sudden light muskiness. Was it a curious animal or child drawn by the fire?
Or was it someone more dangerous?
Skar tensed. Although she wasn’t much of a fighter, she hoped to escape without being seen. She slithered to the ground in a single, silent move. Then she crept along the stone fence, trying to slip away undetected. She was almost at the end when an unfamiliar voice rang out.
“Hold it.”
A boy stepped out from the trees. In the glare of the setting sun, his white clothing seemed to give off a brilliant light. Still, Skar could see clearly enough to realize that he held an object pointed at her.
It was a gun.
Skar straightened and turned to face the stranger. The boy lowered the weapon.
“I know you.” He sounded surprised.
And as he stepped forward, Skar finally saw who it was.
Trey stood before her, the assassin who worked for Gideon. His face looked thinner than when she had passed him that night on the District stairs. Yet he was unmistakable in his white clothing, with the curious white stripe in his dark hair.
“What you doing up here?” With a single movement, Trey returned his weapon to its hiding place.
“We left the District,” replied Skar, choosing her words with care. Trey didn’t appear to be hunting them down; after all, he had put away his gun. Still, she had no idea what allegiances he still held or what price, if any, had been placed on their heads.
“So did I. Me and Gideon, we had a parting of the ways.” As he spoke, the boy gazed beyond Skar, as if expecting to see someone else with her.
“Yet you are still in Mundreel,” she said. “Why?”
Trey shrugged. “Thought I could get me more work out here. But it hard. Nobody got anything to trade: no food, nothing. Nobody want anything except to go see that little girl and get saved.”
Skar shot him a quick look. Was he testing her? Keeping her face neutral, she nodded, revealing nothing.
The boy indicated the fire. “What that?”
Skar followed his gaze but looked back at him, not answering.
He persisted. “You trying to signal someone?”
The girl wasn’t certain, but thought she detected something in his voice—a flicker of vulnerability—and so she decided to take a chance. Keeping a close watch on his expression, she spoke in a flat and deliberate voice. “I’m trying to find Esther.”
The effect was unmistakable. At the mention of her friend’s name, Trey gave a start and glanced up. His face flushed.
In an instant, he looked like a young boy. And in that moment, Skar understood.
“Can you help us?” The question rose to her lips before she knew it. She still couldn’t tell whether she could trust the killer, yet she was desperate enough to take a chance. “I last saw her many days ago, when we escaped. It’s impossible for us to go back. . . . I think Gideon’s boys may still be looking for us.”
“So she alive?”
“That is what I need you to find out.”
Trey said nothing, gazing at the ground.
Skar wondered why he hesitated. Then, with a pang, she remembered that he was a hired hand, someone who only worked for pay. She wracked her mind for what she could offer. “We don’t have any glass,” she said at last, “but if you bring us news, we will give you food and water to last you many days. I promise.”
Trey flashed her a wounded look. “I don’t need pay,” he said, spitting out the words.
For what felt like the first time in weeks, Skar’s heart expanded within her and she smiled with genuine warmth.
“I understand,” was all she said.
Trey took time to reload his weapon, then took off into the night. Skar watched him from the terrace, a flash of white disappearing into the forest below.
Long ago, experience had taught her to expect the worst. Yet for now, at least, she was filled with a strange new hope.
Stars lay scattered across the night sky. Far beneath it, the silence of the dark streets was broken by cries and the sounds of destruction.
Esther kept close to the edge of the building. Behind her in the shadows, she could feel Ava tremble as she pressed against her. Around the corner, they could hear the smash of cudgels and the sound of people screaming. The acrid smoke of torches hung heavy in the air.
Onc
e she and the slaves had made it to the street, the reality of their freedom hit them. Many of them turned to one another, hugging or slapping one another on the back as they shouted and wept with relief. Buoyed by their victory, they lingered on the sidewalk. Some picked up bricks and stray tools from the street and threw them at the lobby doors and walls, laughing and cheering at the sound of splintering glass.
But Esther knew there was no time for celebration. Although it was nearing the end of the day, she was sure fresh teams of workers were still due to arrive with materials. It would be only a matter of minutes before someone discovered what had happened. And, once word of the rebellion spread, Gideon’s guards would be out in force, searching for the escaped slaves.
But Esther had no idea it would be so soon.
She’d been able to convince only Ava to join her and Joseph. Although all three of them were weak and shaky, she had taken them by the hands and forced them to run with her, leaving the joyous cacophony behind. She’d hoped that while there was still light in the sky, she had a chance of pinpointing the location of the smoke signal. Perhaps she could even build a fire of her own in response. Yet no sooner had they gone three blocks than she heard the faint sounds of celebration turn to screams of terror.
Clearly, Gideon’s guards had arrived, and from what Esther could discern, they were suppressing the uprising with swift brutality.
Now, the three shrank back in the shadows as they heard someone approach, running fast. A slave boy, the one who had been the first winner of Saith’s contest, rounded the corner. When he saw them, he shot them a look of desperate appeal. But before Esther could pull him to safety, a guard caught up and bashed him over the head with a metal club. The boy pitched forward and collapsed at their feet, shuddering and twitching. Then he was still. Ava gave a choked cry and Esther put her arms around the girl, silencing her until the guard moved on.
The three of them hid in the shadows like that for an hour, listening to the sounds of the crackdown that raged around them. Only when it finally seemed to taper off did Esther dare to peer around the corner. What she saw sickened and horrified her. By the light of the new moon, she saw dozens of motionless heaps on the sidewalk—the bodies of slaves.
“Don’t look back,” she whispered to Ava.
Joseph was quieting the mewing Stumpy. “Esther,” he whispered, “we must go.”
At the sound of the strange name, Ava looked up questioningly.
“Esther?” she repeated. She shook her head, bewildered. “Gideon kill her long ago. Why he call you that?”
Esther did not explain or even respond; there was no time. Once more taking the hands of the others, she raced with them through the silent streets.
Soon, they made it to a different neighborhood, one that was far from the enormous skyscrapers, and they could no longer smell the lingering stench of the torches. But still she urged the others along.
Finally, Ava could run no more. She stumbled in the dark and then fell to one knee, nearly dragging the other two down with her. Esther attempted to carry the girl, but she, too, was exhausted.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s stop for the night.”
By now, they were in what seemed to have been an industrial section of town, surrounded by large buildings, abandoned trucks, and empty lots with rusted chain-link fences. Esther found a structure where the massive door was already rolled halfway open, allowing the three to duck under. Although their sneakered feet made no noise on the cement floor, their whispered voices echoed in the immense space.
Esther was wary. Long ago, Skar had taught her to avoid open spaces in favor of nooks that were small and hidden, invisible to the casual glance. Yet she had detected no such shelter nearby. Walking in small steps with her hands held in front of her, she felt her way across the cavernous room. She found a short set of steps in the corner that led up to an elevated platform against the wall.
It would have to do.
Ava was so exhausted she dropped to the hard floor, and within moments she was sound asleep. Joseph, too, drifted off, snoring intermittently, one arm draped around the cat carrier. But Esther was too keyed up. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the near-total darkness. The only thing she could make out was the horizontal band of night air visible under the door, discernible by the faint moonlight outside. She stared at it for what felt like hours.
And then Esther started.
She could have sworn she saw a dark shape scuttle across the strip of gray air and then disappear. The skin at the base of her neck prickling, Esther sat up. All of her senses straining, she automatically placed her arms around the sleeping people on either side of her.
Something scrabbled against the cement floor: nails clicking on the hard surface.
As Esther rose, another creature appeared at the door opening, and then another. By now, she could smell a pungent tang, faint yet so sharp she could almost taste it. She heard something else, as well: a loud panting. A new vibration stirred the air: the throaty growl of many animals that were clearly watching her . . . and waiting.
Trembling, Esther stepped to the edge of the platform. In the murky light, she saw she was facing a sea of shadows: At least eight wild dogs stood in the gloom before her. Like all cowards, the animals were attuned to the presence of anything more vulnerable than they were.
They had detected Ava, tiny and defenseless as she slept. Or was it Stumpy, who now stirred in the carrier and hissed?
“Shoo . . . get out of here!” Esther spoke in a harsh whisper. She was about to clap her hands, but thought better of it; if she awoke Ava, her screams would almost certainly trigger an attack. Instead, Esther made an abrupt and sweeping gesture with both arms to get rid of them. The dogs nearest her quailed and shrank back. But the pack did not retreat. One of them, a rust-colored mutt with matted fur, bared its teeth and advanced.
Esther felt a trickle of sweat run down her back. Moving in a deliberate way, she walked to the steps and started down, again trying to appear bigger than she was. She didn’t want to get too far away from the others; doing so would leave them open to a sneak attack from the side. Instead, she would try to assert her dominance by confronting the reddish dog, who she sensed was the leader.
She stood one step above the ground, gazing down into its glittering eyes.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Get out!”
Her plan backfired.
Esther’s stare seemed to infuriate it further. Coiling itself back on its haunches, the dog sprang forward and launched itself at her throat. Esther, stunned and terrified, stumbled backward and fell onto the cement stairs, one useless arm held up in protection.
Then an explosion occurred.
Something barreled across the dark garage. With a loud yelp of surprise, the red dog swiveled in midair; then, growling and snapping, it began fighting with the creature that had attacked it. The two bodies thudded to the ground no more than a foot from Esther, who watched in amazement.
There was no contest. The second animal was much bigger and within seconds, it towered over the first one, which squirmed on its back, baring its throat and belly in abject defeat. The victor growled deep in its chest, placing its jaws for one second over the other one’s muzzle as if in final warning, then it let go.
And turned toward Esther.
The girl remained frozen where she had fallen, but she was no longer frightened. Although the past few months had been cruel to her old friend, who was much thinner now and walked with a limp, she still recognized him.
“Pilot,” she whispered with a feeling both of sorrow and wonder.
Aras’s dog walked over to her and leaned heavily against her as she took him in her arms. His fur was dusty and matted and she could feel his ribs etched in sharp relief against his side, yet his immense tail thumped as he pushed his face against hers and licked her again and again.
Then she sensed his muzzle searching as it pushed against her hip.
Confused, she dropped her hand to her pocket. Rea
lization hit her as she reached in and pulled out what was inside. It was the tattered rag she had recovered from the elevator: the piece of blue cloth that had once belonged to Aras. Pilot nosed it violently, snuffling as he breathed in its smell.
And then he began to howl.
The room resounded with the grief-stricken cries of the animal as he mourned his lost master, now gone forever.
TWENTY
ESTHER STOOD AT THE BASE OF A BROKEN STAIRCASE THAT LOOKED AS IF it led to the sky. Embedded in the side of the mountain, the ascent appeared not only endless but impossibly steep. Yet after hours spent leading the others through Mundreel, she felt certain that they were at last close to the source of the smoke that billowed high above them.
Joseph seemed well rested after a night of sleep. Even Pilot stood by her side, eager and panting as he awaited her orders. But Ava, who looked paler and more fragile than ever, drew a shaky breath as she gazed upward.
“Don’t think I can.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Come on,” Esther said. “We’ll help you.”
“Your friends. They at the top?”
Earlier that morning, Esther had attempted to build a fire in order to send a signal of her own. Yet without a firestarter, she had been at a loss. She’d tried striking a spark between two rocks as she had seen Skar do many times, but it was no good. She would just have to locate the origin of the signal and hope for the best.
Still, she spoke with confidence, because she had no other plan. “They can feed us and take care of us. We just have to get there first.”
The dog had already climbed the first few steps and now turned back, as if waiting for them to follow.
“See?” Esther said. “Pilot says you can do it, too.”
She knew her joke was silly, yet it cheered the girl, who smiled for the first time that day. Ava had initially been terrified of the animal, and with good reason; although loyal to his owners, Pilot was vicious and unpredictable. Yet perhaps sensing how vulnerable the child was, he was now on his best behavior. He even allowed Ava to hold on to his back, gripping his dusty fur for support.
