by Krista McGee
“Stop!” But of course they don’t hear me. They don’t have speakers in their ears. I twist my helmet and rip it off, then toss it on the ground as I run toward Berk, toward the wolves. “Get away! Get off of him!”
The wolves look at me. They freeze. Their ears perk up, furry triangles that point at me. The biggest one howls—a bone-melting howl. My ears ring with the sound long after he finishes. In the distance, another wolf responds. He is calling for more. Telling them there is another meal here. Berk is yelling, but I only hear muffled grunts and groans. I only see eyes full of fear and pain.
I turn around and see Rhen on the transport—high enough to be out of the wolves’ range, but close enough for her to reach out to try to pull me up.
“No.” I push her away. “I have to get Berk.”
Rhen grabs my hand. The wolves are charging me. I try to wrestle out of her grasp. Blood stains the right leg of Berk’s white suit. I don’t know how badly he is hurt, but I have to protect him, give him a chance to get to Rhen. He is struggling to his feet. I want to go help him, but I don’t want the wolves following me, endangering him once again.
Rhen, refusing to release my hand, lowers the transport so it is right at my knees. I turn to look at her and she rams the transport into me, making me fall backward. We rise above the wolves, me lying flat on the transport.
“No!” I look down. The wolves howl at us. But it won’t be long before they return to Berk, try to finish him off. I have to get off the transport.
I walk to the main steering column, push Rhen away. I need to go down. The panels lining the column don’t have instructions. Just colors. I press the red button. We stop. I press the orange. We move to the right.
I close my eyes. “Designer. Help me.” I reach for the last panel, almost at the bottom of the column. It is black, smaller than the others. I hope it isn’t a self-destruct button. But I am out of options. The wolves are turning around, back toward Berk, tired of howling at us.
A siren pierces the air. I cover my bare ears with my hands. The wolves shrink backward. The biggest one howls—or at least I think he is howling. The siren is too loud to hear anything but its blaring, blaring, blaring, cutting through the sky with its razor sound.
The biggest wolf leaps off to the right, his legs moving so fast that a cloud of dust comes up behind him, hiding him from view. The other two follow quickly, one behind the other. I keep my hands over my ears and watch until I can’t see the dust cloud anymore. Then I press the panel once again. The siren is off.
“Get to Berk,” I shout to Rhen, my ears still ringing. “Now.”
Rhen slams her finger into the purple panel and we are lowered, moving forward so we land right beside Berk. There is so much blood. I feel sick to my stomach, suddenly glad I haven’t eaten. Berk’s face is almost as white as his suit. Holes perforate his pants where the wolf’s teeth were just moments ago.
I jump down and go to him.
His eyes are wide. He is in pain. I don’t know what to do to help him. He is saying something, but I can’t hear him with my helmet off.
My helmet is off!
That’s what Berk is upset about. He is trying to get up, to find my helmet. I push on his shoulders. I can’t let him move. He has lost too much blood already. We have to get him back to the chamber, stop the bleeding.
“I’m fine,” I mouth slowly, right in front of him. “We need to take care of you.”
Rhen is beside me, my helmet in her hand. Berk must have been giving her instructions. She places it back on my head, tightens it a little harder than necessary, and clicks it on. “What were you thinking?”
“You could have died,” Berk says.
“Stop it. Both of you.” I can’t even believe they are upset with me. “Rhen, help me get Berk on the transport.”
She is silent as we position ourselves—my arms under Berk’s arms, Rhen holding his legs. Berk groans as we lift him. His face looks even whiter, his eyes watery, blood continuing to stain his suit. We can’t lose him. I can’t lose him.
I nod at Rhen and she takes off. She knows we need to assess Berk’s injuries and come up with a plan quickly. We reach the chamber and John is waiting. He opens it and helps Rhen and me carry Berk inside. He has found a medical unit, the contents laid out on the floor beside Berk’s sleeping platform. I carefully remove Berk’s helmet and my own as Rhen readies herself to care for Berk.
“Why?” Berk’s voice is so quiet. It doesn’t even sound like him.
I try not to let him see how frightened I am. I take a deep breath, will myself to speak without a tremor. “I’m fine, Berk.” My exposure to the air is not nearly as frightening as the injury he sustained. How much blood can he stand to lose? What diseases might those animals carry?
“The air . . .”
“It’s fine.” I can say this honestly. I didn’t have time to think about it while I was out there, but I realize it was not terribly different than the air in the State. Clean. Dusty, yes. But it left no aftertaste.
“We haven’t run tests.” Berk is barely staying conscious. “We don’t know if it’s fine.”
I need to keep him angry, worried, to keep him awake. “So maybe I’ll turn hairy and red-eyed.” I shrug.
Berk’s jaw clenches. “Not. Funny.” He is coughing. Maybe I overdid it.
Rhen has shears and is removing the portion of Berk’s suit that covers his injury. I don’t mean to but I gasp. The wounds are deep. And they are long, like the wolf sank its fangs as far down as it could and then pulled.
Berk looks at Rhen. “What do you think?”
“There is a great deal of blood. But I don’t think the animals punctured a vital artery.”
Rhen places small medical capsules in each of the puncture sites. Berk screams and I grab his hand in both of mine.
“This will clean out the wound and stop the bleeding,” Rhen explains.
Berk tries to answer but he can’t speak. He is too weak, in too much pain.
I turn away. It isn’t the blood that keeps me from being able to watch; it is the knowledge that this—all of this—is my fault. I walk away from Berk, curl up on my sleeping platform, and pull the covering over my head.
Berk is dying. And I cannot watch that happen.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thalli.”
I hear Rhen, but I’m not sure how. She is so far away. I am in our cube in Pod C, and she is . . . outside?
“Thalli, open your eyes.”
I open them, but all I see is white. Then I remember—I am in the chamber. “Berk!”
“He’s going to be all right.” Rhen lays my head back down. “You need to eat something.”
I fell asleep. I turn my head. Berk is on the other side of the chamber. He is sleeping. I watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, making sure he really is alive.
Rhen hands me a piece of bread and a container of juice. I lift myself—slowly—and eat, keeping my eyes on Berk all the time.
“We’re going to have to make some changes.” Logical Rhen is in control. Of course. Always ready with a plan. “The animals will come back.”
“Wolves.”
“What?”
I take a sip of my juice. “They are wolves, probably mutated by the radiation. But I recognize them from one of my lessons.”
“So you actually did study?”
I almost choke on my bread. Rhen is never anything but logical, normal. All facts. I can’t believe she would even choose to be lighthearted right now. “Yes. And they are dangerous.”
“I can see that.” Rhen glances at Berk. Her eyes stay on him. Like mine do. “What are we going to do to prevent another attack?”
“Stay here when we’re on the ground, and stay well aboveground when we’re on the transport.”
“But how will we cook our food?” Rhen turns her bread in her hands. “How will we keep the wolves from waiting outside the chamber?”
“The siren frightens them. One of us could stay on the
transport while we’re cooking the food.”
“What about when we exit the chamber?”
There are no windows in the chamber. No cameras to show us what is happening outside. Rhen is right. If the wolves are waiting outside, we wouldn’t have time to get to the transport and sound the siren. Unless . . . “We keep the transport in here with us.”
Rhen’s eyes widen. “Where?”
“We don’t use our sleeping platforms, you and I.” The transport is just a little larger than our two platforms put together. “We can sleep on it. Then we can activate the siren before we open the chamber.”
“Of course.” Rhen rubs her temples. “I should have thought of that.”
“Is John asleep?” In my concern for Berk, I hadn’t even thought of John. I turn to see him on his knees on the floor beside his bed, his head cradled in his arms.
“I don’t think so.” Rhen’s gaze flits from John to Berk. “He’s praying.”
“Praying?”
“Talking to the Designer.” I have spoken to Rhen about the Designer before. John has too, but she doesn’t like to discuss him.
Rhen nods. “He told me he was doing that earlier. When Berk was being attacked.”
I think of Berk’s escape from the wolves. How did I know to find the siren panel? Why would there even be a siren panel on a transport? Did the Designer plan even that for us? John always says the Designer is working all things together for our good. But if that is true, why wouldn’t he have kept the wolves from attacking us in the first place?
John looks up. “I was thanking him for Berk’s deliverance.”
Rhen bites her lip, looks at Berk, and nods again. “And how are you feeling, John?”
“Full of hope, Rhen.” John stands slowly. Pain clouds his eyes but his smile never fades. “Full of hope.”
“Those wolves . . .” Even with our plan to keep the transport in here, I am worried. What if they aren’t the only animals that survived? What if the pockets of surviving humans have been mutated as well?
“Those wolves are living on the earth.” John eases himself down on his sleeping platform. “And you were breathing on your own out there. Both are good signs.”
“But those wolves are mutated.” I breathe in a clean lungful of air. “What if I become mutated too?”
“The wolves have adapted to life here, yes.” John dips his head slightly. “But their appearance has more to do with their diet and lifestyle than mutations. Given proper food and water, they would likely look just like their predecessors. The point is—they are living. Even here, there must be some food and some water.”
“John is correct.” Rhen’s hand is on Berk’s wrist. She is checking his pulse, but it seems so much more personal, so tender. I want to be the one caring for him, touching him. But Rhen knows more about medicine than I.
“If the air were toxic, you would have shown signs by now,” Rhen says. “But you’re fine. The air might still have traces of radiation, but it is no longer saturated with it.”
“So we can remove our helmets as we travel?” John’s eyes no longer reflect pain. They are light and alive.
“I don’t think that is a good idea yet.” Rhen removes her hand from Berk’s wrist. Finally. But she is still looking at him. “We don’t know how much exposure is too much. We are safer wearing the helmets until we can test it.”
“Why can’t we just test it now?” I agree with John—traveling without the weight of the helmets is appealing.
Rhen moves away from Berk and lowers her voice. “Because that is Berk’s area, and we can’t force him to do too much too soon. His injuries are severe. It will take time for him to recuperate from the blood loss. And there is still danger of infection in his leg. The wounds are very deep.”
“I thought you medicated that.”
“I did.” Rhen rubs her temples. “But this isn’t like an injury in the State. I don’t know what was in the animal’s saliva. And our bodies are not equipped to fight off the diseases they may carry.”
“What are you saying?” My heart feels like it is in my throat, choking me.
“She is saying that this may kill me.” Berk’s voice sounds unused, like a trombone with a battered horn. He clears his throat, his green eyes barely open. “But it won’t. I won’t let it. I did not escape the State and the Scientists to be destroyed by a ragged bunch of wolves.”
John walks over to Berk and lays his gnarled hand on Berk’s shoulder. “One of the names for the Designer is the Great Physician. So let us appeal to him now, together.”
Rhen and I walk to Berk and we each grab one of his hands. I look at Berk’s hand in Rhen’s and it makes my stomach ache. I struggle to even hear John’s words.
“Thank you, Father, for your protection . . .”
Something is happening between Berk and Rhen. I see it in how they look at each other, how Rhen’s eyes soften when she speaks to him. I cannot stop it. But it is making my heart break.
“Heal him . . .”
I lift my eyes to see Rhen’s face. She is crying. Rhen is supposed to be normal. She never cries. Yet there she is, holding Berk’s hand, crying over him. I understand loving Berk. Even when I was angry with him, I felt it. But I don’t want anyone else to feel it. I want Berk to myself.
“You are powerful. You have healed the blind and raised the dead . . .”
I want to be praying for Berk. I should be praying for Berk. But all I can think of is that I’m losing Berk. Not to the jaws of a wolf, but to my best friend.
“But in all things, Father, we submit our will to yours. Amen.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I need my violin.
We have been traveling for six days. We were supposed to arrive at the colony by tomorrow. But in four days, nothing has changed. No vegetation, no water, nothing. The only good that happened is that after two days of checking the air, Berk gave us permission to remove our helmets. We are far enough away from the contaminated air that we no longer need them.
Twice more, the wolves came. We were able to use the siren to scare them away, but they seemed less frightened of it each time. And more have come each time. Even if there were human survivors, wouldn’t they be killed by these predators? I cannot help but think we are traveling closer to death with every mile.
Berk is still weak. Rhen is still caring for him. They are together all the time. She has to tend to his wounds, check his vital signs. I am left to do the cooking and the watching. John tries to talk to me, but I do not want to talk. The only thing in my mind is a feeling I can’t describe, but it’s not good. Anger boils in me the way our food boils as it is being prepared.
I could play this feeling if I had my violin. But I don’t. I am desperate, though. So I excuse myself, take the transport away from the chamber—high enough that if the wolves came, I would be safe—and imagine the violin is in my arms. I hum the notes. It is not the same, but I have to do something, play something, or I fear everything in my mind and my heart will erupt out of my mouth.
And Berk would likely feel guilty if that happened, taxing his already compromised system. I cannot be that selfish. He needs to recover. His being alive is more important than his loving me.
But that thought makes a piece of my heart feel like it has fallen off onto the ashy ground below.
I look down and see the chamber being dismantled. I am hesitant to ask Berk if we are on schedule to arrive at the colony tomorrow. Part of me is frightened at the prospect. Another part is desperate for other people. But the most honest part wants to just forget all this and turn myself back in to the State. And maybe, once I know the other three are settled and all right, I’ll do that. Maybe if I return, they will be safe.
“Thalli.” Rhen is calling. It is time to begin today’s journey.
I lower the transport. Berk limps aboard. He is still pale, weak, sleeping most of the time. But his leg seems to be healing. Whatever diseases the wolves may have had were destroyed by Rhen’s medical capsules. Or
John’s prayer. I do not know which.
“We are not far.” Berk sounds so close, yet he feels so far away. Farther than he has ever felt. The green grid pops on the screen in front of my eyes. The orange dots are bigger. “We will arrive tomorrow. Continue on the same course.”
Rhen nods at me, and then she presses a button that allows her to communicate with Berk alone. John stands across from me, and I move the transport up and toward those orange dots. I want to look behind me, at Rhen and Berk. I want to hear what they are discussing. But we must all wear the helmets to help us navigate. And the helmets create an impenetrable barrier.
The transport makes a sudden dip. I must have accidentally touched the wrong panel. I press the panel to move us forward, but it dips again.
“What is wrong?” Rhen asks.
“I don’t know.” We are dipping faster now. We will hit the ground hard if I can’t stop this.
“Try the yellow panel.” Berk tries to stand, but the transport dips once again and he is thrown to the floor. Rhen’s quick reflexes save him from toppling over the side of the transport onto the ashy ground.
I press my finger onto the yellow panel. Nothing. I slam it as hard as I can, using my thumb, index finger, and two fingers together. Nothing. We are going to crash.
“Relax your muscles,” Rhen orders. “There is less chance of injury if we are relaxed.”
The idea is ridiculous. Every part of me wants to tighten, but I will my muscles to disregard those signals. I remain as limp as I can.
“Stay where you are,” Rhen shouts. “Try to land it flat. We don’t want the transport to flip.”
I try to relax but maintain my position. I look at Berk, who is barely conscious. The transport careens toward the ground. I cannot keep its front end from tilting downward.
“Move to the back,” I shout. “We need more weight in the back.”
We are seconds away from impact. I do not have time to look and see if the others moved, but the transport makes a slight shift. Not enough, though. We hit the ground hard, my end first, then the other.
