by Ramona Finn
Conie.
I hadn’t known it was the AI. I don’t know how she could do that. A connection to my memories? Or a more direct connection to me? She wanted to control me, to use me to find the Glitches and Rogues for her. She wanted them gone because they were taking resources she needed. I wonder now if she doesn’t want to go without first completing that mission.
Sitting with my back to the warm rocks and my butt on cooling sand, I turn my thoughts to the conversation with Wolf. It is easier to deal with. The idea of meeting other Rogues has some merit—we could use help. But it was hard enough to convince the Tracker clan to go against the AI. And does Wolf simply want food and shelter for his clan?
I push that thought away. Wolf has fought the AI with me—he knows we must win this battle. But I can see his point. Without the tunnels, without food and water, we are at the mercy of the Outside—and it is far too easy to die in the harsh heat and hard lands. Staring at the eastern sky, I wait for the sun to rise.
I don’t want to be at odds with Wolf—I like him too much for that. And I know he has feelings for me. Those little touches he gives me, the way he presses his mouth to mine as if stealing the breath from me. That means something. But I cannot let feelings stop me from doing what I must do to defeat the AI.
In some ways, I envy Wolf. He has his clan. He knows who he is. He was born a Rogue in the Outside.
But me? Maybe I’m something like the AI inside with a shell made of flesh and blood. It would explain how the AI seems to get inside my head. It would explain the dreams and the things that I couldn’t possibly know or remember.
“I feel human,” I mutter. Even as I say it to myself, I can’t shake the thought when it comes.
That could just be your programming.
Lifting a hand, I stare at my fingers, open and close them. My skin seems pale in the moonlight. The sand seems hard underneath me. Are these sensations just part of some program to observe? Am I different because I don’t just act on my feelings? Because I have to think everything through?
I do not want to be the AI’s ultimate weapon—but I am uncertain if there is a choice in that.
Hearing soft voices, I stare into the darkness. Slowly, I make out Bird’s fluttering ribbons. The darker shadow next to her moves—it’s Wolf. He puts a hand on her shoulder. My throat tightens and I turn away. They do belong together in a way I do not. With Bird, Wolf can be the kind of leader the Tracker clan wants.
Sighing, I lie down and stare up at the stars. I still won’t sleep, but at least I won’t have to watch Wolf and Bird.
The sun hasn’t even warmed the sand or peaked over the mountains, and already the clan is rising, starting to deal with the day. Mostly that means scavenging some roots we can eat. Crow boils water to make a broth, and Croc is tending to those hurt.
Wolf heads to the rock where I found him sitting last night. He stands on it and raises his arms. “Make ready to travel. Bird and Pike will drive ahead to find other clans. Croc will travel with the ATs and those hurt. We’ll head to the Glass Hall. It’s neutral ground where we can regroup and there is water and food kept there just for such an emergency as this.”
Murmurs ripple through the clan. Glancing around, I see a few nodding. Some look at the ground, mouths pulled down, as if they cannot bear to leave those we must leave buried. I also see a few nervous glances—they’re worried about seeking help from other clans, too.
My stare lands on Bird. She doesn’t look surprised or nervous. I wonder if she had a vision about meeting with other clans. I don’t really understand Bird’s visions. I tried once to follow her path, to have my own vision, but I am not really certain that I did. Now Bird stares at Wolf and nods, as if she agrees with everything he said. She wants to give up the fight with the AI—I know that suddenly and with a calm certainty. She holds influence with the clan—if she backs from the fight, I might really be on my own. Looking around, however, I see Alis and two other Glitches. Maybe I can rely on their help? Wolf jumps down from the rock, but calls out, “Take as many supplies as you can. Move fast, move light.”
That’s a Rogue saying.
Instantly, the clan starts to move. Everyone seems to know what to do. Several of the clan move to help Croc get those injured to the two ATs we still have. Others move away, gathering sticks that can be turned into walking staves or into weapons. I have no idea what I should do.
Heading to join Skye and Alis, I stand next to them—they don’t seem to know what to do, either. Alis must still be grieving Dat, as I am. I keep glancing around, expecting to see his bright eyes and curly hair. But that will never happen again. Skye’s eyebrows lift up as I come over to her side. Alis flashes me a tired smile—dark smudges shadow her eyes.
Alis leans over and asks, “This joining up with another clan—is that really going to work?”
I shrug, unsure what to answer. I don’t want to admit I’m worried.
My silence seems to frustrate Alis, because she makes a low growl and demands, “Whose side are you on, Lib?”
I turn to face her. “Side? There’s only the fight against the AI, Alis.”
She shakes her head. Dust from the tunnel collapse clings to her hair, darkening it from red to brown. “There are always sides. And do you really think other Rogues are going to listen to you about attacking the AI?”
Her cheeks redden. She turns away and strides over to the ATs where Croc is trying to figure out how he can get them to hold everyone who is hurt. I fear we may have to leave some behind, but would Wolf even allow that?
Skye glances from Alis back to me, but she doesn’t throw in her opinion. Her blue eyes linger on me for a moment and she mutters something about helping to pack what little food and water we have. She turns and walks away.
I follow after Skye, dragging my boots in the sand..
Water is passed around, but we only get two sips each. Even with that, the water will not go very far.
I hear the crunch of a heavy step and turn. Wolf heads to my side. I can see he wants to talk. Turning to Skye, I say, “I’ll be right back.”
Heading over to meet Wolf, I fall into step next to him.
He leads me away from the clan to the same place we sat last night. I find myself missing the stars. It’s hot and the sun beats down on our heads.
Before he can say anything, I ask, “Is everyone going? All the wounded? And Alis and Skye? Will other clans accept Glitches?” I bite down on my lower lip. I shouldn’t have to ask him this—I should know.
The look in his eyes seems to say the same thing. He shakes his head slowly. “No one’s being left.”
“Just the dead.” The words come out before I can stop them.
Wolf’s shoulders sag. “Yes. And remembering them must wait. But that’s not what I need to ask you.”
I tense. Is Wolf going to ask me to give up the fight against the AI?
Letting out a breath, Wolf puts a hand on my arm. “You’re going to come with us?” Uncertainly leaks into his voice. I’ve never heard that tone from him. “You’re not going to stay and try to fight on your own?”
He sounds worried…almost scared. “You care that much that you ask?” Offering him a small smile, I nod. “I thought about it, but this is my family. I want to stay with you.”
He leans forward and presses his lips against mine. His lips are dry, but warmth dances through me. His tongue darts out to lick into my mouth. He smells of sweat and heat and dust. I can’t deny how much I like that kiss.
It ends quickly, leaving me breathless. Wolf touches a fingertip to my cheek. “I don’t think I could go without you.”
The warmth inside me spreads up and out. “I know. But…Wolf, when we find the other clans, we have to speak of the AI. About fighting Conie. We have to.”
His smile drops away. He turns and walks away. And I start to wonder if it really would be better for me to stay and fight the AI.
Chapter Five
We start the walk before sunset, somethin
g I’ve never seen the clan do before. We don’t have enough supplies, but there’s nothing to be done about that. Bird and Pike left hours ago. Croc finally figured out how to get those who cannot walk onto the ATs—two of the clan who should probably ride gave up their seats, insisting they could walk. And they do.
Alis, Skye and I keep to the back of the group, even though I want to walk up front where Wolf leads. But I do not feel like a leader—to me it seems I keep dragging the clan into battles that we keep losing.
How long has it been since I felt invincible? Was that just the biogear that made me feel that way? Now all I can think is how foolish that was.
“What exactly is this Glass Hall?” Alis asks. She hefts the bag of food and a few pieces of gear she managed to pull out of the collapsed tunnels. I’ve never heard of the place, so I look to Skye.
With a shrug, Skye says, “It’s underground just like the other tunnels, but from what I understand, it is an older place. Something more like the Empties.”
Alis snorts. “Rogues work with dirt, rock and sand. How much better can this place really be? Is it really glass?”
Giving Alis a sideways look, Skye shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it—it’s a Rogue place. I’m actually surprised we’re heading there with the clan.”
“Wolf said no one gets left. Of course we’re all going. You’re part of the Tracker clan. End of story.”
The sun sets, but the air is still warm. A breeze tugs at my hair, ruffling it and swirling sand. If it gets windy, we may be caught in a sand storm. I hope not.
We keep walking, moving in almost a single file as the moon rises. Rogues never complain, but I see a few struggling to keep up, wandering off the path Wolf chooses and being dragged back by others. Wolf’s back becomes a dark shadow against a purple sky. I lick my lips and wish for water—or for food or to stop and sit.
This is harder than a scavenge. On a scavenge, we’d go out, we’d have ATs to ride. We might walk some, but we would rest and stop to take water or eat. I have no idea when Wolf will let us rest, so I turn my thoughts to what the other clans might be like.
The Rogues know how to survive in the Outside—they are the ones born in the Outside. Every Rogue grows up learning what plants hold water, what animals to avoid and which ones can be hunted and eaten. It takes a Glitch to hack the Norm, but while I glimpse platforms that might offer a connect, Wolf keeps us walking.
With every dragging step, I hope this Glass Hall is like the Empties. That it is above the ground and can offer us shelter and food and water. My mouth seems dry as the dirt under my feet. Even though the air cools, sweat drips down my back.
In the distance, animals howl or snarl. Alis and Skye drop back, their steps slowing and dragging more than mine. I don’t let them get out of my sight, but I’m glad to be alone with the night. I like it better this way. It seems at times that I do better on my own—that I was meant to be this way. But that is also a frightening thought. What if I am singular—what if I belong nowhere other than with the AI that would rather have me dead?
Ahead of me, I spot Crow. His tall, thin frame stands out amid the other Rogues. He seems tireless, but keeps his long stride short enough that he stays with the rest of the clan.
Letting my stride lengthen, I catch up to Crow and fall in beside him. Crow glances at me, but it is too dark to see his expression. “Walking well?” he asks.
It’s a Rogue phrase. The answer should be, ‘well enough.’ I am too tired to give even that answer. In the darkness, I can’t see the scar that slashes down one side of his face. I can only see his strong nose in profile and the flash of moonlight from high cheekbones. I’m grateful for his friendship, even though something inside tells me it has shifted for him.
He nudges me with his shoulder and leans down. “You’re the only company I want to keep.”
Forcing a smile, I jab an elbow into his ribs and tell him, “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a lot of friends—I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” I glance at him to see if he understands my meaning, but I still can’t gauge his reaction. Does he understand I need him as only a friend?
We walk in silence for a time, saving our breath to make it up a hillside. On the top, I ask, “Have you been to the Glass Hall?”
“Once. I was pretty small, but I remember it. There are few reasons for the clans to collect, and one of the big ones is when another clan disappears or is almost destroyed, like the See Far Clan.” He falls silent for a moment, and then shakes his head. “That was a bad time.”
Bird’s clan.
Will Bird and Pike really be able to find the other clans? Will they meet with us? A twinge of sadness tightens in my chest for Bird—no wonder she is touchy about some things. No one deserves to lose their family. I ask Crow, “You remember that?”
He nods, but keeps his focus ahead of us. Going down a hillside can be more work than going up—rocks can slide from underfoot, and the clan moves carefully now. “Gatherings are a time for those who want to leave a clan to be able to shift. I wasn’t born Tracker. My mother came from the Fighter Clan.”
That makes sense to me—a clan would become too inbred if some shifting between clans was not allowed. But I ask Crow, “Your clan—your birth clan—it was named for your skills?”
He nods. “That and because my mother’s clan didn’t believe in getting along with anyone—they fight anyone, even other clans.”
“What? Why?”
We move out onto level ground. Crow’s stride lengthens and I have to work harder to keep up. He shifts the sack of supplies he carries on his shoulder. “Who knows? Resources, pride, fear. My mother made her choice, but I didn’t have a say in it. She asked for me to be allowed to leave our clan, and then whatever clan would accept me, that’s where I went.”
Frowning, I stare at the ground. We skirt the edges of mountains now, keeping away from prickly bushes. “I don’t understand. Why did she ask for you to leave?”
“My father was killed during a fight with another clan. It…changed my mother. She told me she didn’t want me growing up fighting other Rogue clans.”
“But why wouldn’t you have a choice? I don’t think of belonging to a clan as being a prisoner. And why didn’t she come with you?”
His stare seems focused on the horizon for a long moment. At last, he glances at me, but his face is lost in shadows. His voice sounds a little tired and a little amused. “When you’ve been in a clan for most of your life, it’s hard to leave. Traditions are part of it. Each clan is a little different, so it’s difficult to adjust to something new. When you’re young, change isn’t so hard.”
The wind picks up and slaps my face with cold air. I push back my hair and ask Crow, “Do you miss her?”
“I did. But I hardly remember her now.”
Shock chills me. I was pushed from the Norm—just as Crow was pushed from his family. But now he hardly remembers them. Is this why the Tracker Clan tries to remember those who die? So they will not become hard and brutal like the Fighter Clan? And are there other clans as dangerous as that one?
Looking up ahead to Wolf’s huge, dark shape, it seems to me the Tracker Clan is lucky to have him to lead. But what are we going into? Will the Fighter Clan come to the Glass Hall, too? From the sound of it, if they do, there won’t be any fighting, but Crow makes me wonder if this other Rogue clan should even be trusted.
I’m about to ask more questions, but the wind slaps at me, stealing away my words. Sand scrapes over my skin. It is too dark to see if the bushes are bending, but I have learned to read these sights.
Sand in the air means trouble. Wolf stops, and so do the others. The wind turns wild, swirling. Looking up, I can still see the moon but the sky is turning dark.
Crow leans down and calls out, “Sandstorm!”
Wolf lifts a hand and turns to the mountains. He scrambles up the hillside and seems to disappear, but keeps yelling out to everyone, telling them to hurry. The rest of the cla
n follows. After glancing back to make sure Alis and Skye can see us, I follow Wolf’s shouts. Wind stings my face. I have to squint and when I breathe in, I gulp down sand.
White cliffs rise up in front of me, dotted with black holes. Caves, I hope. I also hope no animals are taking shelter here.
The dust leaves me squinting. The wind pulls at my shirt and pants and seems to try to push into every part of my body. It is as if the world is turning into nothing but dust and wind. It bites at me and pulls the moisture from my eyes and mouth.
Tiny grains of sand pepper my skin, stinging like the bites of insects. If we don’t get to the caves, the clan will scatter and be lost. Storms like this are more dangerous than any predatory animal or even more dangerous than the heat of the sun.
Can we get to the caves in time?
Falling to the ground to try and get below the pushing wind, I scrape my fingers on the rocks as I struggle to get to safety. I have no time to worry now for Alis and Skye—I might not make it to the caves.
I can hear Wolf yelling, using his voice to guide the clan to safety. Looking up and squinting, I can barely see his tall, dark shape through the blowing sand. The air seems to choke me. I need a coat on or a scarf over my face, but I lack those things. Every breath is a struggle and hurts my chest. I feel as if I am being buried alive now.
I want to yell to Wolf to tell him to help me—to keep shouting. I want to look back and wait for Alis and Skye. But the wind steals any words I shout and now I see nothing but dust.
The dust swirls around me. All I can do is keep clawing at rock, keep climbing. Something grabs my arm. I let it. If an animal has me, I don’t care. Sand fills my mouth, leaving me coughing and choking. When I can blink and see again, I stare into a cave lit now by a torch.
