I wonder if we’re dead. I feel as though we have been cast beyond the reaches of the living, and we’re to remain forever here, neither alive nor dead. For all the daydreaming I’ve done about the ground, I suddenly cannot imagine that life exists beyond my floating city.
The professor shuts the engine. The metal pops and groans.
The princess is the first to speak. “This is it?”
“Of course not,” Judas says. “We’re only facing the water, that’s all.”
“See you later, then,” she says, turning for the door. “You can all stand around gaping at this monstrosity of a lake if you’d like, but I’m on a mission.”
Her footsteps clomping down the metal platform stir us all into motion. Everyone follows her for the door, except the professor, who stays behind to be sure the engine cools properly. Not that I see what it would matter; I doubt this thing has the strength or the means to return us to the sky, and even if it does, we’re all fugitives. We aren’t returning.
We parade down the hallways and the spiral staircase, through the kitchen and down the ladder that will take us to the door. Judas shoulders his way to the front. “Sorry, Princess,” he says. “Usually I’d say ‘Ladies first,’ but this could be dangerous.”
The princess folds her arms. “So chivalrous.”
I’m worried about Pen, but I know that it will do no good to call for her. She can’t be rushed. All her life she has believed in our history books, and we’ve just fallen into a world where perhaps none of what we’ve been taught will matter.
I grab Basil’s hand and peer down the ladder as Judas undoes the series of locks.
“Wait,” I say. “What if the air is different? What if it’s diseased, or those ice flurries are dangerous?”
Judas smirks at me. Then, having undone the last lock, he pushes the door open.
The cold is immediate, assaulting my skin. My hair flies away from my face. We have chilly days on Internment this time of year, but they’re nothing at all like this. Cold like this could kill a person.
Over the sound of the wind, I hear the laugh on Basil’s breath. He squeezes his arm around my shoulders. “Would you look at that,” he says.
I stare at the white ground, accumulating more whiteness from the sky, until I see a strip of red fluttering about on a post. The only thing in sight. It must be some sort of flag.
Judas sets one foot outside the bird, preparing to climb his way down the side, and a voice calls out, “Halt!”
The voice is so loud that it echoes in all the metal walls. The god of the sky, I think, my heart on my tongue. He has followed us here. He’s come to decide our fates.
Judas is too stunned to step back into the bird or to go forward.
There’s a mechanical quality to the word. Not a god. A machine that’s being shouted into. And the word is heavily affected. No one on Interment speaks quite that way.
Amy grabs Judas by the collar and tugs, which brings him to his senses, and he climbs back inside.
Vehicles appear on the horizon, smaller and more colorful versions of Internment’s emergency vehicles. A peculiar mist trails behind them. Their lights are like pairs of eyes, and the flurries glimmer in their rays.
None of us move. Uncertain.
I like to think we’re brave.
Lex starts to say something, but Alice holds his arm and tells him to be quiet. “Where’s Morgan?” he says. I find his hand, and he squeezes hard. Whatever’s to happen to us, we’ll be together. I want him to know that, but I can’t speak. How can I? What words would be enough for this?
There are more vehicles than I can count, surrounding us on all sides. And then in that affected way, a voice says, “We won’t hurt you. Exit slowly. When you get to the ground, put your hands up where we can see them.”
When we get to the ground.
A hand touches my back, and when I turn around, I see Pen and Thomas behind me, clinging to each other. I don’t know how long they’ve been here. For her, I muster the words, “It’ll be all right.”
She doesn’t seem convinced.
Judas climbs the ladder on the outside of the bird first, Amy behind him, then Alice so that she can help Lex.
The princess is left to stand in the doorway, shivering. She looks at me, and a wicked grin begins to form. “Don’t look so glum,” she says. “This is going to be an adventure.”
Her hair is full of icy wind and daylight. She is every princess, every queen, in the history book. In this instant, I don’t see a bratty princess, but rather I see greatness in her.
She doesn’t bother with the ladder. She turns to face the strange world beyond the door, and she jumps.
About the Author
Lauren DeStefano earned her BA in English with a concentration in creative writing from Albertus Magnus College in Connecticut. She is the author of The Chemical Garden trilogy. She lives in Connecticut.
Visit http://www.LaurenDeStefano.com to learn more about Lauren.
ALSO BY LAUREN DESTEFANO
The Chemical Garden trilogy
Wither
Fever
Sever
Copyright
HarperVoyager
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2013
Copyright © Lauren DeStefano 2013
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013
Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com
Lauren DeStefano asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007541201
Ebook Edition © October 2013 ISBN: 9780007541218
Version: 2013-09-11
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Perfect Ruin (Internment Chronicles, Book 1) Page 27
