Useless. The residents of Dillingham might survive a tornado, but not a dragon attack.
The hospital lobby’s empty. I hurry through the heavy doors at the rear, toward Colin’s room. But he and his medical equipment are gone. I yell for him, Allie, and Nurse Frown as I scour the other rooms in the patient wing. Nothing.
The residents of Kanakanak Hospital have vanished.
I return to the lobby. Through the windows, I see that the town’s now bathed in an eerie Christmas-light glow.
What are they doing?
Though I can’t see them, I can feel their eyes on me. Searching. Ravenous. I bite hard into my lip until the pain overwhelms the fear. As the watching sensation lessens to something manageable, I focus inward and listen.
Where are you?
It requires all my nerve to ignore the dragons’ words and skulk to the window. I get a clear view of the sky. At least three dozen Greens trace slow figure eights above the town, in alternate streams.
Melissa. I almost scream at the sound of Randon’s voice inside my head.
“You need to get Baby to safety,” I say aloud. Too loud. Everything feels too loud.
We are already flying, human. There is no indication of pursuit.
I drop into silent communication. Do you know where Colin and Allie are?
The shelter from dragons, he says a few seconds later.
I look over my shoulder at the access door that leads to the offices and the changing room where Allie and I showered. I’d forgotten about the emergency stairwell. It didn’t occur to me before, because I was worried about contacting Preston, but why would a one-story building need a stairwell?
I breathe a little easier. “What to Do During a Dragon Attack.” One of our annual school seminars. They gave us ebooklets full of rules. “If outdoors: seek safety at a library, school, or hospital.” Not because dragons understand the critical importance of education and health, as some teachers joked, but because of a federal mandate that required every public building to construct a subterranean bunker.
Please tell them I’m okay and that I’ll be there—
A gunshot rings through the air. A dragon overhead unleashes a torrent of flame that engulfs a home catty-corner from the hospital. A woman with a toddler cradled in each arm bursts onto the road. A couple seconds later, a burning man tumbles out and immerses himself in a snowbank.
The Green lands in front of the family, and his white-cloaked rider dismounts via a rope ladder. The dragon collapses onto its haunches, licks its lips. The kids wail. Mom’s crying too as she gets on her knees. Dad, steam rising from his body, raises his arms high.
The rider shoots him in the head, then motions to the dragon. I turn away and cover my ears, but the crunch of corpse and shrieks of children play loud in my head anyway. Not real, and real, all at once.
“What do you want?” Sheriff asks via the bullhorn. Sounds terrified. Another Green—the brightest dragon I’ve ever seen except Baby—dives toward the source.
“We mean you no harm.” The austere voice that booms from the bullhorn a minute later fires a shiver through me. Though I’ve only heard it a couple times before, I’d recognize it anywhere. Oren White, the Diocletian leader. “However, if you attempt to harm us, we will be forced to retaliate. We’re looking for a pair of girls.”
He doesn’t know Baby’s in the area, I realize, turning back toward the hospital. But somehow he knows about Allie and me. Will undoubtedly torture us for information.
“They landed in Dillingham within the past day,” Oren continues. “One of them is seventeen. Five-ten. Short brown hair. Brown eyes. Probably skinny. Name’s Melissa, though she’s likely using an alias. The other—”
He stops talking. Sheriff must be in his ear.
It’ll be seconds before Oren relays the information to his dragons and they pounce on the hospital. I stare at the Jeep, still idling in the emergency lane. I have to lead them away, hope I can occupy their attention long enough to give Colin and Allie a chance to escape.
I relay my thoughts to Randon. Tell Colin.
He says that you must not do this. That it is foolish. I agree, human.
There’s no other choice, I say, and break cover at a full sprint.
I climb in, thrust the Jeep into first, and take off. The Green on the ground whirls around, blocking the road that leads out of town. Another pair of dragons slams down behind me, sending up plumes of snow. I accelerate toward the riderless one.
The dragon spreads its mouth wide so I can see the mass of fire gathering in the back of its throat. I jerk the car toward the sidewalk and plow through a low snowbank. I emerge on the other side, fishtail, almost run over that woman and her two children.
The rider opens fire with his machine gun. My rear tire blows out, and the Jeep pitches left, toward the Green. I tap the brakes, veer right. The Green dances sideways, will squash me between its elephantine leg and the house ahead if I don’t stop. My only chance is to try to split the gap between its legs. Clear sailing on the other side.
I point the Jeep at the dragon’s enormous foot and smash the gas pedal to the floor. My heartbeat echoes the frantic bump-bump-bump of the blown tread. Blood rushes my ears.
“Baekjul boolgool!” I bellow, and jerk the wheel a hard left.
The Jeep careens across the dragon’s talons. The front end lifts up. The Jeep goes airborne, sails through the emptiness between its legs. As the dragon roars its pain, a triumphant euphoria fills me.
Then the Jeep crashes back to earth, and I crash through its front window.
9
I wake to the pungent odor of ammonia and a colossal headache that dwarfs the dull throb in my midsection. The whir of an alarm siren fades in and out. Large hands appear at the haloed edge of my vision. I catch the glint of silver between the fingers.
Something is put on my head.
Cool and metallic and familiar, but I’m too disoriented to place it. I reach up to investigate, but my hands are cuffed to something. My ears warm, the pressure inside my skull intensifies, and the circlet cinches into place.
A CENSIR.
“No.” I groan.
“A precaution.”
Another whiff of ammonia, and the world comes into view. I’m in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed railings. Oren straddles the chair at my bedside, long arms folded across the upholstered back, a tablet dangling from his hand.
He checks the tablet, which can show him my general mood—I focus on wrath—then regards me with a curious smile. “That was quite a stunt you pulled out there. Much like your mother, aren’t you?”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“You should learn to take compliments better.”
“You should learn not to kill people.”
He drags a finger from his left ear to his chin, tracing the knotted edges of a scar that stands out pale and angry against his dark skin. “Considering what happened to you in Georgetown and considering your brother, I’d think—”
“Sam? What’s happened to Sam?”
“Keith was always good at keeping secrets,” Oren says, but doesn’t elaborate.
Sam is safe with my aunt and uncle in Michigan. He must be.
So what if he never responded to any of the letters I sent via Preston? He’s probably still pissed at me about everything. If something had happened to him, Dad would have mentioned it in his letters to me, wouldn’t he? Unless Keith filtered them. I can’t put it past him; he hid his and Mom’s involvement in Loki’s Grunts because he wanted to protect me from the truth that my mother was an insurgent. Oren’s right. Keith was always good at keeping secrets.
No, Keith wouldn’t do that to me. This is nothing more than a cruel lie from a cruel man. I can be cruel, too. “Do you know how much Lorena—”
Oren’s hand flashes to my throat. “Be careful what you say about my daughter.”
“Handcuffs and CENSIR not enough for you?” I say between gasps. “I see why Lorena despised
you.”
I expect him to crush my windpipe—a part of me hopes for it. But instead he releases me and leans back. “You even look like Olivia.”
His words, spoken with sad fondness, hurt more than his hand ever could. “Did you come all this way so we could reminisce about the dead?” I glance at the CENSIR tablet and bite my lip. I will be strong. “You wasted your time. I don’t know where she is.”
“We already have what we want, Melissa. You just put on your big-girl face, act like everything’s okay, and say good-bye. Then we’ll be out of your hair.” He gives me an apologetic look. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with us.”
“She’s not even of breeding age. Please—”
“The Silver?” He squints. “Figured Keith was smarter than that.”
He opens the door and speaks to someone in the hallway. “Make her presentable.” Then he looks back at me. “She thinks you’re coming with us, but I told her you’d have to wait until you’re healed. She insists on saying good-bye. A favor for you, Melissa, for the friendship you gave my daughter.”
She? My chest tightens. They were never after Baby. “Allie? Why?”
“Multichannel telepathy,” he says, as if that should mean something to me. “Cumbersome, isn’t it? I prefer what the dragons call it. ‘Tangled.’ Not quite right, but it has a certain simplistic elegance.”
“Please, she’s just a kid.”
“You should have seen her face when she saw all those dragons outside.” He beams as he rises. “Reminded me of the first time I showed my Lorie. Allie wants to come, Melissa. She wants to help us save her dragon friends.”
“She doesn’t know what that entails. Please.”
“We are not the enemy,” he says, and leaves.
Evelyn struts in. Even with the bulky body armor, white cloak, and goggles resting on her dragon-print headscarf, she manages an annoying beauty and grace. Worse, she reeks of roses. “Hello, Twenty-Five.”
I gape. “Real?”
She pinches my arm, smirks when I grimace. “Guess so.”
I don’t get it. In Georgetown, Evelyn was Talker One, the perky sycophant who did everything the All-Blacks wanted her to do and shunned everybody who didn’t. I hated her and thought she was evil, but only in that high-school popular-girl sort of way. The only time I ever saw anything authentic from her was when rescue came, when she was in the ER, huddled with James . . . I bite hard into my lip.
“Where is he?” I say, quivering. I want to cry. I want to strangle him.
She lifts my backpack from the floor and drops it on my bedside. “You look awful. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to pretty you up. Shame how this—”
“Where is he, Evelyn?”
“Where is who?” she asks. She unzips the pack. “You have nobody to blame but yourself, you know? Don’t suppose you have makeup in here? Never were much concerned with keeping up appearances.”
While she investigates my pack, throwing barbs whenever she can, I focus on making sense of her words in an effort to stave off the looming darkness. “Nobody to blame but yourself?” James and Evelyn knew about our hideout on Saint Matthew Island, so why did Oren and his Diocletians wait to pounce? After we left, there was no guarantee he would find us again. Nobody knew our location—
Until I panicked in the escape crate and attempted to contact every dragon I knew. Told them where we were headed. But why the subterfuge? Why flush us out? Why not capture Allie on the island beforehand?
“Those mental cogs of yours still clunking along, Sarah?” Evelyn asks, checking my fake driver’s license. She flings it to the ground. “You’ll thank me later. Preston got your worst side.”
She wets a pair of towels at the sink, returns to the bedside, and vigorously scrubs dried blood off my face. She drapes the towels over my handcuffs, then pulls a ski cap from somewhere inside her cloak and tugs it down over my CENSIR.
“Well, you’re presentable. I guess. Be on your best behavior. Twenty-One’s enough of a pain in the ass when she’s in a good mood.”
She’s at the door when I cave. “Why, Evelyn?”
“If you can’t figure that out, you’re even dumber than you look.”
Before I can make any sense of her parting shot, Allie bounds into the room, all hops and skips and squeals. She jumps onto the bed and nuzzles into my chest. I groan, and she pulls back.
“Mr. O said not to touch you because you’re hurt and I already screwed up.” Her smile returns with a delighted laugh. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Melissa. Did you hear about the dragons? Mr. O says that when you get better, you can join us at HQ—that’s what Mr. O calls it. We can all be together like we’re supposed to. And we don’t have to be afraid of anything again. We’ll be safe. We need to convince Arabelle. She’s being stubborn and won’t talk to me.”
She is so full of joy. It makes my own smile that much harder. “Don’t worry. I’ll set her straight. Now come on, give me a hug. A real one this time.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her cheek to mine. I relax to the pain in my ribs, allowing her slight weight to sink into me. When I can feel her heart beating above mine, I close my eyes. Behind the lilac of the shampoo, there’s the faint smell of iron that will grow stronger in the company of Greens, and the hint of woodsmoke and winter that I always associate with Baby.
This is how I will remember her. At peace. Content.
“Time to go, dear,” Oren says from the doorway.
Allie kisses my cheek. “See you soon.”
“Yep. Be good. I love you.”
She waves once, and then she is gone.
“Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want. Just leave her out of this. Please.”
Oren gives me a rueful smile. “Move on with your life, Melissa.”
After he leaves, I let myself cry.
10
“Do you understand your rights as they have been read to you?”
The sheriff repeats himself as a shift in light pulls my attention to the shadowed figure in the doorway. Claire? Her ghost here to take vengeance on me? A waking nightmare? I hope for the former. She skulks toward us and presses a finger to her lips. No worries, I will not make a peep. She reaches Sheriff and snaps his neck in one quick motion.
Sheriff falls, and through the wetness that clings to my eyes, I see that the shadow is Colin. He removes the towel over my left hand and inserts a broken hairclip into the handcuff keyhole. After unclasping the second one, he rolls up my cap.
He retrieves defibrillator paddles from the wall and places them against the CENSIR. The machine emits a gradient whine, then beeps. He brushes his lips to my forehead. “Stay with me, okay? This will hurt.”
A jolt of hell blasts through me. When awareness returns, I’m in Colin’s arms and the CENSIR’s off. He presses me close and carries me through the hospital, past a deputy sprawled on the floor with his head turned the wrong way, Nurse Frown weeping in a chair, several people huddled in a group, and a couple of shrieking kids whose father got devoured by a dragon.
Outside, the sun’s sitting on the horizon, and I’m not sure whether it’s rising or falling. He loads me into an ambulance, buckles me in, and says something about getting us to safety. We drive off, the sky darkens. I stare out the window at a world that seems tranquil. Rebuild the burned-down house across the way, fix the wrecked Jeep we just drove past, clean the random spatters of blood and mounds of dragon crap, and Dillingham’s good as new.
If only humans could be repaired so readily.
“You okay?” Colin asks.
When I don’t reply, he proceeds to tell me his strategy for our escape and rendezvous with Loki’s Grunts. I hear maybe half the words, provide him my limited information.
Somewhere in all of his talking, he’s put his hand on my thigh, and he keeps glancing at me. I think he’s worried I might open the door and jump. No, Mom taught me better than that. If you’re gonna go out, do it in a blaze of martyrdom for the entire wor
ld to see.
But the world’s seen enough of me already, and I’ve seen more of it than I ever planned. I’m done with all this. When we get to Denver or wherever, I’ll leave Baby in the hands of the competent, and I’ll go visit Dad and hopefully Sam. I’ll stay with them as long as I can. And I’ll make sure to have a gun with me at all times in case—
Kill emotion, human. Her voice is strained and distant.
“Grackel!”
“She’s alive?” Colin says.
I nod. Are you okay? Where are you?
Do not worry about this one. You cannot even take care of yourself. Her growl echoes through my head. I wake and find myself buried in the darkness of rubble because of the invisible monsters. My tail is shattered, my back foot is missing, and my fire fails me. This is manageable, but then I hear you acting as if the world is over.
They took Allie.
Cry some more, then. What good will that do her?
I’m glad you’re alive, Grackel, but I don’t need your lectures right now.
Block me, she says, knowing full well I can’t in my current mood.
Leave me alone.
She does, for about a minute. Your boyfriend tried to talk to me. Is that what you need, human? A knight to protect you?
For a moment, I think she means James, but then I remember Colin’s a dragon talker, too.
I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. I lost her, Grackel. I promised I’d protect her, and I failed.
You behave as if she is dead already. And what of Arabelle? Will you abandon her to your sullen reverie?
What can I do? I don’t have an army. I can’t protect Baby. I can’t even protect myself.
Give up then. Call it over and go home. Oh, wait, you have no home. You are stranded with yourself. I do feel bad for you now. I shall let you wallow, for I should conserve my energy for something useful. I cannot believe I sacrificed my beautiful tail for the likes of a coward such as yourself.
“I hate you,” I say aloud, but she’s already gone.
Colin steers the ambulance onto a gravel road. The shadows of evergreens loom like silent executioners on either side. A mile or so in, he stops and turns off the headlights.
The Other Side Page 6
