“Holt,” she said. “Why isn’t the Chance Generator in your pack?”
“I don’t like it in there,” he said without looking back. “I like it out where I can see it.”
Mira studied it closer. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like a few of the beads had been slid upward. It looked like it was active. Surely, Holt of all people wouldn’t be using the abacus. “Holt, why don’t you put the abacus in your pack?”
“It’s okay, I can hold it,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
“Holt, I’d really like it if you put it in your pack. It’s not something you should be touching.”
Holt glanced back at her, and when he did, there was an odd look in his eyes. Thoughts and calculations seemed to swirl behind them, dark ones, and it was something she had never seen from him before. But it lasted only a second.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Thing makes me cringe anyway.” He undid a pocket on his pack and stuffed the abacus inside. Mira couldn’t tell if it had been turned on or not, but at least he wasn’t holding it anymore. He’d used it only once, and she was doubtful that short an exposure could lead to compulsion … but who knew? It was a powerful artifact, and he had been tight-lipped about his experience with it. She had assumed it was just a hesitancy to discuss the negative effects it had caused in order to save them all. But what if it was more than that? What if he had used it at full power?
“Guys!” Zoey’s shouts from on top of the hill tore Mira from her thoughts. “Come see! Hurry!”
They both looked up and saw Zoey staring down at them impatiently. Holt smiled at Mira, and shrugged. “After you,” he said, motioning her forward.
Mira smiled back. He seemed himself again—it probably wasn’t anything to worry about. She kept walking and felt the ground start to incline under her feet.
They climbed to the top of the hill and crested the rise to where Zoey and Max sat, looking at the horizon that was now revealed before them.
When Holt saw what was there, Mira saw his body sag as his brain tried to make sense of it. “Holy God…,” he exclaimed, though it was barely a whisper. He had never seen it before, she guessed.
Mira instinctively slipped her hand into Holt’s, felt him squeeze it back tightly. She looked to the north, and saw the beginnings of a landscape that was beyond description. She had seen vistas like this over and over again, but the first sighting of it, from a distance like this, always brought goose bumps to her skin. It carried with it a tangible excitement and wonder, and she had never not felt a thrill looking at it.
The horizon in front of them was covered in impossibly black, rolling storm clouds as far as the eye could see, towering powerfully over everything. Lightning flashed from those clouds, but not like any normal lightning. This was purple and green and red, and when it struck the ground, flashes of white energy sparked upward. The sky, where it peeked through, seemed to waver and distort somehow, like a borealis, only in daylight. Near the ground, strange colors faded in and out of view, disappearing in one place and reappearing in another. And the sound of deep thunder reached and rolled around them, rumbling in the air longer than it should.
Mira looked down at Zoey. The little girl was looking to the north, but unlike Holt, she looked more thoughtful than astonished. “It’s the Strange Lands, sweetheart,” Mira told her, petting the girl’s hair. “It’s where we’re going.”
“I know,” Zoey replied. “It’s where I was born.”
The comment was enough to pull Holt’s stare away, and he and Mira shared a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
In the back of her mind, Mira couldn’t help but hear the final words of the Librarian again. His words … and his warning …
“Can I ride the Max to the Strange Lands?” Zoey begged, ignoring Holt’s question and looking up at them. Holt frowned.
“She’s just going to keep asking until you give in,” Mira said.
“I’m not sure that’s a great reason to let her do it,” he answered back.
“Please, Holt?” Zoey asked. “Please?” Zoey looked at him with her clear eyes, waiting hopefully. Holt considered his options … and finally sighed.
“All right,” he said, “but just for a little ways. You’re gonna be too big for Max soon. He’s not a Saint Bernard.”
Zoey’s eyes widened with excitement. “I’ll never be too big for the Max,” she said as she moved to him and crawled onto his back. Max, for his part, wasn’t as shocked as Mira would have expected. He sniffed Zoey a few times when she lay down on top of him, but otherwise seemed unconcerned.
“Wrap your arms around his neck, hold on tight,” Holt instructed.
Zoey did, her arms encircling the dog, and she laid her head down across the back of his neck.
Holt studied them both a few more seconds … and then he whistled three sharp notes.
Max responded instantly, darting across the open ground like a rocket. He moved so fast, it didn’t even seem like he felt Zoey’s weight at all.
The little girl screamed in delight as they raced down the hill, Max’s legs darting them forward at breakneck speed, until they reached the bottom and rushed over the grass, heading north.
Holt and Mira silently looked after the disappearing pair, their hands still intertwined. After a moment, Holt looked at Mira. “Ready?” he asked.
Mira hesitated, enjoying the soft warmth of his hand. There was so much she wanted to say. Why was it so hard?
“Sure,” she said, but the word rang hollow in the afternoon air.
Holt held her gaze a moment more; then he started down the hill, slowly following after Zoey and Max. Mira held on to his hand until it slid away and out of her grasp. When it was gone, her hand felt cold, even in the sunlight.
Mira followed after Holt, and as she moved, she withdrew one of the necklaces from her shirt: a gold chain with two small, worn, golden dice cubes attached at the end. It was a necklace Ben had given her years ago, one she still wore.
As she contemplated it, she reached in a pocket and pulled something else out. When she opened her hand, a polished black stone lay in her palm.
Mira’s gaze moved between the necklace and the stone as she walked. Ahead, in the far distance, purple and red lightning flashed from storm clouds amid a prismatic, wavering sky. Strange thunder rolled ominously in the air, and it seemed to follow them as they walked north, toward whatever fate awaited them within that strange, surreal horizon.
EPILOGUE
NORTH OF MIDNIGHT CITY, amid a grove of trees that looked out over a rippling ocean of grass and wheat, something stirred.
Fields of energy shimmered as they bled away, revealing the machines that were hidden underneath them. Three legs, small and agile, painted green and orange. There were only four of them now—they had lost many since landing on the continent, and the ones that remained had deep gashes, dangling wires ripped free by crazed human hands, and gaping holes from shotgun blasts.
But they were still functional. They would hunt and track without question, until they finally fell apart.
The one in the middle had bold, differently colored armor, and it stood out next to the others, which gave it a cautious berth. It scanned the sky impatiently.
In a few moments, it found what it was expecting.
There was a roar above them. Larger cloaking fields wavered and fell away, revealing three huge ships hovering in the air directly above the tripods.
They were green and orange as well, and of a different design than either the reds or the blue and whites. Dangling underneath each one were four other walkers.
A mechanical whine echoed as clamps and grips released. The walkers dropped to the ground, and as they did, lights flashed and engines hummed to life. They were of a similar design to the others … yet different.
Still tripods, still lithe and agile, but these had missile batteries next to their plasma cannon, the small warheads gleaming in the sunlight. They looked more heavily armored as well, with thic
ker, mesh plates, all painted in brilliant green and orange. What looked like an array of optics and sensors sat atop them, and square, armored storage cases of some kind were affixed to their backs.
The new walkers stood tall as they activated, trumpeting affirmatively. But not all of them. Eight rose and activated, but four sat where they were on the ground, lifeless and unpowered.
From the old walkers came a rumbling as bright, wavering fields of energy lifted out of each one. Three crystalline shapes of golden light … and one of something entirely unexpected. The energy field that rose out of the boldly marked walker wasn’t gold … it was a perfect, flickering blend of green and orange, like emerald sunlight.
Each floated to one of the new dormant walkers. They hovered above them for a moment, and then sank downward and absorbed into them. As they did, the machines powered up just like the others, coming to life.
The dropships collected the old, damaged walkers, sucking them up into hydraulic racks. When they were finished, their engines roared as they lifted up and away into the sky. Seconds later, their cloaking fields flashed back to life, concealing them from sight as they flew toward the west.
The walkers stared at their leader with anticipation, its new armor marked in the same unique, bold color pattern. Before it could sound its orders, however, a rumbling echoed from the distance.
The Hunters turned in unison, staring to the West, where something moved amid the plains, miles away.
The machines’ optics whirred silently as they zoomed in on the movement and revealed it for what it was.
More Assembly walkers, dozens of them, all moving northward. Familiar kinds—Spiders, Mantises—and others less familiar. Some with five legs, some with six.
But one thing was common among all of them. They had no colors painted on their armor. There was only bare metal. And each of them gleamed in flashes of blindingly bright silver in the afternoon sun.
The boldly marked walker trumpeted with electronic disdain at the sight. More Assembly had arrived to join in the hunt.
The walker trumpeted once more, this time with urgency … and then it and the rest of its Hunters bounded off toward the north, searching for the trail that would lead them to their priceless quarry.
About the Author
J. BARTON MITCHELL is a screenwriter, comic book writer, and author. He studied creative writing at the University of Houston before going on to receive a B.S. in film studies from the University of Texas. After selling screenplays to Warner Bros. and 20th Century Fox, Mitchell created and wrote the comic book series Poe, published by Boom! Studios in 2009. Mitchell lives and writes in the Los Feliz area of Los Angeles.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
MIDNIGHT CITY. Copyright © 2012 by J. Barton Mitchell. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Cover photographs: sky © shutterstock.com; people © Shane Rebenschied; dog © shutterstock.com; city © Colin Anderson / Getty Images; rubble © Christophe Dessaigne / Trevillion Images
ISBN 978-1-250-00907-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-01343-9 (e-book)
First Edition: November 2012
Midnight City: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) Page 38
