The Fall

by Laura Liddell Nolen

  “Bad idea, Char. I’m wired to, like, everything,” he muttered, not even trying to take it from me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The water might not be drugged, but the smoke sure was. It was behind us for the moment, but it drifted forward fast. The sounds of the battle drew closer. “Let’s go. Plan B. Or C. I lost track.” He paused to find my eyes. “You’re not gonna like Plan C. And can SOMEBODY please find my jet!”

  “The jet is gone, Adam. It’s the end of the line.”

  Adam’s puppet soldiers parted, and at the end of the hall stood my oldest friend. He was calm and tall and surrounded by fighters.

  And he was armed.

  “Isaiah,” said Adam. “You know, you’re just in time.”

  Twenty-two

  The moments crowded together in a blur of smoke and pain. Adam reached for me. I aimed the gun at his leg and pulled the trigger. It made a massive bang that shook my ribs and broke my thoughts apart like rubble.

  Adam cried out in pain and threw me to the ground.

  I never hit the ground. Instead, the soldier behind me caught me and wrapped an arm around my neck from behind. The smoke in the hallway was thick enough to taste, and he was well under its influence. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

  Limping, Adam leaned down to pick up the gun as though he’d dropped a quarter. “Oh, Char,” he said casually. “That was such a mistake.”

  He pointed the gun at my head and looked back at Isaiah. “Pretty sure this is checkmate, right, mate?”

  “Don’t you stop, Isaiah,” I screamed, choking. “Not for me. You kill him. You keep going or I’ll never forgive you.”

  Isaiah stepped forward. “They shoot to kill, Adam,” he said carefully. “And if they don’t get you, An will. I know you don’t want Char to die. Give up. They won’t kill you if you surrender. They’ll give you to An to force a truce, but they won’t kill you.”

  “Adam,” I began.

  A crease of worry flashed across Adam’s face, but he straightened his back and tightened his grip on the gun. “Shut up. Just shut up. I’m trying to think,” he said.

  “Nothing left to think about, my friend,” Isaiah said. “You can’t get out of this.”

  Adam gritted his teeth and pressed the barrel of the gun into my temple. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “So do I,” Isaiah said.

  As I watched, the puppets in the hallway turned as one. Their weapons were drawn in unison.

  But instead of pointing at Isaiah, they turned on Adam.

  “I recently received a special advisement from a member of the Tribune,” Charles said. “It seems he’s been working with a refugee who poses as a doctor on our sick bay. We’ve made some key adjustments to the water supply. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “They’re not puppets, Adam. They’re free,” said Isaiah. “It’s over.”

  Adam glanced at their guns, and for an instant, he looked scared. His eyes went wide, like a little kid. Then he caught himself and gave me a little sigh. “Huh. It certainly is.”

  He pointed his gun, but not at me.

  At West.

  “Shoot!” I screamed. “Shoot him!”

  But nobody did. They were free men, after all. And they chose to save the North American Ark.

  “Now we’re even,” Adam said to me. He took in my face, my posture. Saw me kick and scream. The soldier behind me had breathed the smoke and was puppeted to Adam. His grip on me was like a steel trap.

  Adam smiled.

  I felt my heart detach from my body. It drifted up into the shattered air around my brother and continued into the void, that persistent nothingness that had surrounded us since we left Earth, that had tested our will to survive at every moment. For me, the test was finally over.

  My heart drifted up toward death.

  Adam pulled the trigger.

  West fell.

  And my heart exploded in the vacuum.

  Twenty-three

  I longed for the relentless embrace of space. It called me.

  All around me was chaos and fighting. Adam, Isaiah, and so many soldiers.

  And my brother, my brother. But the deep groanings of my soul remained unvoiced. I found that I could not breathe, let alone scream, let alone moan with the pain that pulled me out, out of my body and into the stars.

  Adam was dragging me toward the hangar when his gun left my temple.

  He aimed it at his own head. I heard him shouting as though through an echoing tunnel. He threatened to shoot again; they backed off. For the moment, we were alone in the hallway, watched by dozens of eyes that kept a careful distance. I twisted in his grip to look through the door.

  The sky was black beyond the second seal, and I could not see the stars. I turned away from the porthole, away from the nothingness of space where my mother had died. I faced Adam. “You have nothing left,” I began, but he scoffed.

  “I have an entire Ark slaved to my blood. What do you have? An army? Armies can be killed. Do you know how many people are about to die, Char?”

  “You can’t get out of this, Adam,” I said softly. “They’re going to save this Ark from you while they still can. They’d be fools not to. You will die. Neither one of us can stop it. But you can save the North American Ark. You’re the only one who can.”

  He stumbled back, feeling for a keypad. Searching for a weapon. What was the play here?

  Wait, no. He was steadying himself. He didn’t know what to do next.

  He was afraid.

  And then it hit me. I had one final play. One last move. I slammed my fist into the first seal on the hangar. It sucked open, taking what was left of my heart and soul into its void. I clenched my fist, but my hand did not shake. I did not waver.

  It wouldn’t do to lose my courage now, at the end of everything.

  “I can’t stop them, Adam,” I said again. “This is where you die. But I will make the journey with you. Decouple your heartbeat from life support, and I’ll come with you.”

  Adam’s eyes were wild. He glanced through the porthole and back to me. “Now, that’s interesting.”

  I stepped closer to him, and, taking his hand in mine, led him across the seal. The keypad was out of reach once we crossed the threshold. I did not take my eyes from Adam’s even as I spoke to Isaiah. “Close the airlock.” There was steel in my voice. It pleased me.

  I could hear the tightness of Isaiah’s throat, his mouth. I pictured his fingers wrapped hard around his gun. I thought about my mother. I finally saw her strength in me. “Do it. Do it, Ise.”

  When at last there was no response, I turned to him.

  Isaiah’s eyes gleamed silver, but his hand was unsteady, and the barrel of the gun began to waver. “I—I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, little bird. I can’t do it.”

  “You have to.” I tasted the words and found that my voice was strong. “To go back is nothing but death. I will yet go forward.”

  At this, his face crumpled. The gun fell to his side. “You read my book.”

  I gave him a sad smile. “Seemed the thing to do at the time. Know your enemy, and all that.”

  “I can’t. I can’t.”

  His sadness nearly broke me. I wanted to be like stone, like a statue. I wanted to be like the frozen wind that shaped the earth to its will.

  But I was none of those things. I was flesh and bone, and weak enough at that. I was small.

  Nevertheless, it was enough. I only had to be strong for a little longer. I looked back at Adam. “You can close it, can’t you? You can control the seal.”

  “You don’t really want to die, do you, Char?” Adam asked. His voice was small, too. Like a child.

  “No,” I breathed. “I’m afraid. But I am sick of fighting.”

  At that, he opened his shirt. Long, thin wires protruded from every side of a small metal box on his chest, like a millipede. A few of the wires went into his skin, anchoring the box into place. Its top slid off. “Okay,” he said shak
ily, pressing a series of buttons I couldn’t follow. A moment passed, and he looked at me, pale-faced and quiet. “Okay. I accept.” He aimed the device at the door, and it hissed shut, sealing us to our fate.

  Isaiah rushed to the panel, and the lock clicked just as he reached it. “NO!” He slammed a fist on the window, and I jumped in spite of myself. “No!”

  I met his gaze, feeling very much like an uprooted tree. “Confirm it’s done,” I said to him. “Go, Ise. Confirm that our Ark is safe.”

  He was breathing hard, but at last he nodded and disappeared, and I was alone with Adam. I had to keep him here. Not forever. But for a little while.

  “You know, we always talk about my family. We never talk about yours,” I said.

  Adam didn’t answer.

  “What was your father like?” I said.

  “You would have liked him,” he said, his mind elsewhere. “He always told me not to fight.”

  I looked around the room. I had to keep him distracted before he changed his mind. “And your mom?”

  Adam returned to the moment long enough to give me a bitter frown. “She told me not to lose.”

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” I said suddenly. “I tried to save her. I did.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “I never hurt you,” he said finally. “On the Ark. I didn’t let anyone touch you.” His hands went to his sleeve, the box, his forehead, fidgeting. He’d only ever been a child, but now, his fear made him like a little boy. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

  “It’s okay,” I said softly. “It’s almost over.”

  He breathed harder and took a step closer. I jerked back instinctively. His face went hard. “A deal is a deal,” he said. “Unless you have another trick up your sleeve.”

  “I’m clean out of tricks, Adam.”

  He stood close, but he didn’t touch me, and I realized I’d begun to shake. So much for bravery.

  Isaiah appeared at the window, surrounded by gendarmes. “So?” I shouted. “Is it done?”

  He didn’t answer. I heard a sound like a cross between a slap and a keyboard tap and realized that he was trying to open the seal. I glanced at Adam, who shook his head. “They can’t get in here.”

  “Okay,” I said, wishing I were stronger. “Okay.”

  A soldier grabbed Isaiah, pulling him backwards, and another man appeared at the window. “I can confirm that the slave program is no longer running. The North American Ark is free.” He paused. “Go with God, Lieutenant.”

  Adam looked at me, taking in my shaking jaw, and put his arms around me. He was taller than I, but his head rested on my shoulder. I went limp, then stiffened. I was so close. I couldn’t let him get out of this, no matter what came next. So I returned the embrace.

  “I had a dream you were drowning,” he said distantly, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “You and Amiel. Over and over. And I could only save one of you.”

  “It was never your job to save me, Adam.”

  He shook his head without lifting it. “I thought I could make you understand. No fighting for five years, Char. No one else could fix the atmosphere, either. It had to be me. It had to.” He straightened suddenly, then pressed a few keys on his wire box, leaned across me, and slammed his fist into the last seal of the airlock.

  There was a quick pop followed by an even shorter hiss. I heard myself begin to scream, but the void entered the room, entered me. I curled up into a ball, shutting my mouth and eyes as hard as I could, and pressed my fingers into my ears.

  I felt Adam shove my shoulders back, giving himself about a foot of distance, then kick me, hard, in my chest. I went sailing backwards as the outer seal sucked closed. The darkness claimed me. The void was my inheritance. In a moment, I would be like my mother.

  The thought of her face made me gasp.

  I took a breath, panting, and realized that I could breathe. The inner door was open.

  Hands took me, pulling me into the ship like a baby. I heard the inner door suck closed, but I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t open my eyes, my ears, my mouth. I stayed curled up until I felt Isaiah’s hands. He was shaking me, saying my name again and again. He said something about West, too, but I couldn’t make it out.

  I opened my eyes slowly. The world was harsh and bright. Soldiers crouched around me as others were glued to the inner porthole, unable to believe that Adam was gone. They were saying things I didn’t understand, and I squinted at them. The man who’d spoken to me through the window turned to his troops and nodded. A cheer broke out throughout the corridor.

  When Isaiah saw my eyes, he smiled. I tried to sit and found that I couldn’t. All around us, the soldiers were overcome with relief and laughter. But we did not cheer. I was tired. So tired. My eyes pulled closed, and I did not try to stop them.

  It was over.

  Twenty-four

  I woke up angry.

  Another gurney. Another handcuff, no doubt.

  I jerked my good arm and saw that it was free. Hearing me stir, my brother West looked up from his seat in a wheelchair facing me.

  Another dream, then.

  “She’s awake!” he said. “Char!”

  I frowned at him, furious. How dare he haunt my dreams so soon. How dare he seem so happy when we were still apart.

  My father came into view next to my brother, relief etched into every line on his face. I twisted my head painfully and saw that we were joined by Eren, Isaiah, Cecelia, Maxx, and even Charles. They stood in a semicircle around my bed, watching me. Except for Eren, that is. He was horizontal and covered in white, but his blue eyes found mine immediately.

  A strange dream.

  “A moment, please,” said a familiar voice over my shoulder. I looked up to see crystal blue eyes and a tight blonde bun.

  “Doctor,” I whispered. “I’m hallucinating.”

  She laughed, and I wondered if perhaps this wasn’t a dream. West was older than he ever was in my dreams, and his voice was deeper. “West?” I said. “How?”

  He leaned in carefully in spite of the doctor’s disapproving glance and squeezed my bad arm.

  “Isaiah saw the broom before Adam moved it,” he said. “When I insisted on going back in, he gave me his uniform.”

  “His uniform?”

  “The bullets don’t pierce the fabric, Char. Remember?”

  I thought about that for a long time.

  And then I began to cry.

  My leg was set in a cast the next day. I’d broken my fibula in the storm. For the time being, I could not stand.

  Eren did not leave my side.

  For one thing, he wasn’t able to. He’d broken several bones in his upper body and was contained in the worst-looking traction device I’d ever seen.

  For another, I wasn’t about to let him. We’d spent enough time on other people’s schedules. It would be awhile before I let him out of my sight again.

  Charles visited me alone the next day. It was an attempt at a friendship, an olive branch, but I found myself bitter. He’d locked my father up while Adam ran free. I saw in his face that he still didn’t know what to make of me. So I asked him why he was there, and he said he’d promised An he’d visit.

  “An.” The name brought with it a sense of unease, of unpredictability. “She never fired her missiles after all.”

  “A curious move, given what we thought,” Charles mused. “But I have my guesses as to why.”

  “Care to let me in on those?” I asked.

  “Actually, I think it came down to you,” Charles said quietly. “She never wanted to fire in the first place, obviously. But Adam sent her blueprints for an electromagnetic field generator, and she knew she couldn’t build it without repurposing her warheads.”

  “That was a test,” I said. “He wanted us to kill each other.”

  “Perhaps,” Charles allowed. “But her scientists have reviewed the plans. It seems a plausible mechanism. And so she waited, hoping we’d prevail. Thanks to you, we did.”
/>
  “You weren’t so bad yourself,” I said, offering him a smile.

  “Thank you, my dear.” There was an awkward pause. “We’ve extended amnesty to you and your family, by the way.”

  At this, I gave a dark laugh. “So I’m finally legit? I can’t believe that’s all it took.”

  “You’ll have the option to return to the North American Ark, of course, but should you decide to stay…”

  “Thank you, Charles.” I offered him my hand, and he shook it. “I appreciate that.”

  “There is one other thing,” he said, hesitating. “We’ve had a special meeting of the Council.”

  I nodded, waiting.

  “We’re not staying, Char. This Ark won’t colonize Eirenea. We’re going back to Earth.”

  “Back to Earth? Charles. There is no Earth.”

  He took a deep breath. “Not as it was, no. Its polarity was destroyed, and the continents have undergone significant changes. As it stands now, no life is possible. But we’ve been in contact with Ark Five all along, you know.”

  “Noooo,” I sucked my teeth. “You don’t say.”

  “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “They are of the opinion that in time, we can colonize it. The South American Ark is going back, too.”

  “Colonize Earth,” I said softly. “Home.”

  He looked at me. “You know, I’m really not sure what that means anymore.”

  I took his hand again, giving him a little squeeze. I wished him well. “Me neither. Not for awhile now. Me neither.”

  By the end of the day, I’d moved my bed against Eren’s. It had been a difficult operation, since Eren hadn’t been able to help, but seeing me struggle, the doctor lent a hand. She even removed one of the guardrails between us, cautioning me not to touch him. We stayed up nights, talking. Even when he was like this, crippled, immobile, broken into pieces, he made me feel safe.

  He had plans. Hopes. Things I’d never heard him talk about before. He wanted a family one day. He wanted a garden. He wanted to stand on Eirenea and build up a mighty city. Not as the leader, or the president, but as a builder.