by Kevin George
She cried out as all strength left her legs. The teens hooked each of her arms and dragged her up the planks, ignoring her weakened, breathless pleas for mercy. The teens tied ropes tightly around her wrists, stretching out her arms as they tied the other end to the Dome’s metallic frame. Julietta’s body faced outside, where cold wind and snow blew in her face, clearing the haze of pain that made her mind foggy. She continued to struggle weakly as they tied up her legs, spreading her out to provide the largest possible target.
Julietta looked down at the snowbank in front of her, where she saw a streak of blood cut into the snow, but no sign of the beast or its victim. She spotted other beasts on the far side of the nearby enclosure, the group gathered around a pile of dead bodies already deposited outside of the airlock.
“Please,” Julietta said as the teens finished cinching her binds. “Use one of the dead bodies for this. There are plenty left near the Dome’s airlock.”
“The beasts that came inside are the aggressive ones. . . Hunters,” said one of the teens. “They’re only lured by living victims.”
On cue, rustling erupted from the jungle nearby. The teens looked at one another before scurrying down the plank, ignoring Julietta’s whispered pleas. She doubted staying quiet would save her in the long run, but if she’d learned one thing in life, it was to survive as long as she possibly could. But the rustling grew louder and Julietta no longer felt the cold stinging every part of her body. She tried to turn her head—not that she was sure she wanted to see what was coming—but could barely see the jungle behind her. It was only in her periphery that she spotted movement emerging from the trees.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Henry Jonas stepped out from the jungle, a small group of teens behind him, struggling to carry a massive pane of green glass. Julietta’s teenage captors rushed out from their hiding spot.
“We found another lure for the last beast in the Dome,” the teen said.
Julietta turned so much that her neck ached. Still, she made eye contact with Henry Jonas, recognition immediately sparking on his face.
“Rayce’s prisoner,” he said.
“Please, you don’t have to do this,” Julietta said.
“My father and the others always thought it strange he was hiding you,” Henry said. “I watched you survive your first time in the beasts’ enclosure during the Herder’s test. You barely seemed alive before you set foot in the pens.”
“Then you know how much I’ve already suffered,” Julietta said.
“For as long as I live, I’ll never forget how close she came to being caught before Rayce pulled her into the airlock,” another teen said, awe in her voice.
Others murmured their agreement.
“And you wouldn’t believe what else I’ve survived since,” Julietta said, struggling to look at the teens. “If you untie me, I’ll tell you—”
“We can’t install the new glass until the final beast is dealt with,” Henry said, turning toward the jungle. “Everyone find a hiding place until the last beast arrives.”
Julietta turned her head from side to side, making brief eye contact with a few disappointed teens, none of whom made a move to help her. She begged as Henry and his followers faded back into the jungle.
“But everything that’s happened to me. . .”
“Life isn’t always fair,” Henry said. “Rayce had been loyal to my father for years, long before I was born. Never once did he cause a problem for my family and the other Domers. I don’t know why, but that changed the moment he saved you from the beasts. I wonder if my father and grandfather would still be alive had you not survived.”
Julietta shook her head, but she had no explanation for why Rayce had changed because of her. She was certain no explanation would satisfy Henry anyway. Henry stepped through the trees and called out that any teen that lured the beast to the hole would be rewarded with one of the upper level rooms. Julietta couldn’t see how the teens reacted to such an offer, but the crunching of footsteps within the jungle was answer enough.
“That won’t be needed,” a voice called out.
Another teen stepped out from the jungle. Julietta looked back at the teen—older and taller than most others, Henry included—who stared at her and winked. His clothes were tattered and covered with blood, nearly as much covering his face (though his smile and swagger told Julietta that the blood wasn’t his own). In one hand he carried a dripping knife; in the other hand he carried a tuft of fur that had been stained red. Henry hurried out from the trees.
“Chase?” Henry asked.
The older teen approached Henry and leaned in close, only speaking loudly enough for the teenage leader to hear. Henry’s head turned sharply and his eyebrows raised. He closed his eyes and for a long moment, the only noise came from the whistling wind outside. Chase dropped the bloody fur at Henry’s feet. Henry snorted and turned back to Julietta.
“Cut her loose and bring her to me.”
Chase nodded and skipped up the plank as the rest of the teens emerged from the trees. Chase cut away the ropes and Julietta gently massaged her wrists, her legs so wobbly that she nearly pitched forward down the snowbank. Chase took her by the elbow and led her down the plank. Julietta stared at the tall teen, whose eyes remained forward, a smirk on his face.
“Show me,” Henry told Chase, who shrugged and nodded toward the jungle. Before leaving, Henry turned to the teens standing in the clearing. “Install the glass while I’m gone.”
“How?” one of them asked.
Henry glared at him. “Do I look like a maintenance worker to you? Figure it out, but do it quickly. We dumped bodies on the far side of the enclosure, but I don’t know how long before the beasts get hungry again and try to make their way back in. The fence outside will need to be repaired next.”
Once the teens scurried up the planks and got to work, Henry pointed toward the jungle. Chase took Julietta’s arm—more gently than her other captors—and led her into the trees. Without the fear of imminent death, Julietta felt every inch of pain in her legs, knees and back. Still, no pain felt as intense as the one swelling in her chest.
“I’m sorry for whatever the reason Rayce attacked your family,” Julietta said. “But I swear to the Lord and Jonas that I had nothing to do with it. I never wanted anything to do with Rayce, or the Herders, or the Dome. I only wanted to be with Isaac; I still only want to be with Isaac, whether that’s in here or in the barracks or in the City Below.”
“He’s gone,” Henry said.
“Gone?” Julietta gasped. “As in. . .”
She didn’t want to know the answer. Henry eventually shrugged.
“Dead? May as well be,” he said. “He was spotted rushing toward the barracks. When my people reached it, they found it empty. The door leading to the White Nothingness was wide open and a pair of people were spotted heading toward the horizon. He may have been one of them, he may not have been. Regardless, he’s either dead now or will be soon.”
Julietta glared at Henry, but only to hide her pity for him, only to hide the happiness blooming inside of her. Isaac wasn’t dead. Henry and his followers may have assumed Isaac’s death was a foregone conclusion in the White Nothingness—and Julietta had to admit that Isaac’s situation certainly seemed dire—but they’d both come too far—they’d both survived too many situations that should’ve proven deadly—for him to walk off into the snow and perish in the cold. She didn’t know how she’d survive—and she didn’t know how long it would take to see him again—but Julietta knew she had to keep doing exactly what she’d been doing since the moment she was taken from The Third with the illness: survive.
They reached the walkway just beyond the jungle section, where a large beast was draped across the railing, several spears sticking out of its back, the top of its head a red mat where its scalp had been sliced off.
“Killed it myself,” Chase said.
A smile remained on his face, but Julietta saw the sadness i
n his eyes as he looked at the dead beast. She saw no such sadness from Henry, who nodded approvingly.
“Then it’s truly over,” Henry said, his voice heavy with relief. “I’m going to my father’s room to figure out our next step.”
“What should I do with her?” Chase asked.
Henry glanced at Julietta, his eyes blank, as if he had no idea who she was or what she was doing in his Dome. Julietta suddenly saw Henry for the tired little boy that he was.
“I mean you no harm, none of you, or the Dome,” Julietta said. “They wanted to take me back Below, but I wanted nothing to do with those savages. There must be some way I can help.”
Henry frowned but eventually nodded. “There’s only one thing,” he said, unable to suppress a yawn. “The dead bodies won’t feed the beasts forever. You know where to take her.”
When Chase’s hand clamped onto her arm again, his grip was tighter. Julietta shook her head as he led her toward the airlock leading outside. Henry ignored her pleas as he headed toward the staircase leading up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Snow fell the entire time Isaac and Artie stumbled across the White Nothingness. Sometimes the snow was heavy and sometimes it was lighter; sometimes, the snow was joined by gusts of wind that made as much whiteness shoot up from the ground as down from the skies above. Still, Isaac and Artie pushed forward, peering back occasionally to make sure none of the Jonas boy’s followers had decided to come after them. Their only solace was finding the land behind them clear every time.
The morning sun shone early during their escape, but heavy clouds soon rolled in and filled the sky with gray. Every time visibility dropped, Isaac’s head turned from side to side, certain he had heard crunching in the snow beyond their own footsteps. Artie noticed Isaac’s concern more than once and didn’t believe when Isaac insisted—unconvincingly—that there was nothing to worry about.
“You dragged me into this frozen wasteland, now you’re too concerned about my feelings to tell me what you’re worried about?” Artie asked.
“Beasts,” Isaac said. “Herders used to tell stories about wild beasts still existing somewhere out here.”
“Wild beasts? As in the beasts within the walls were the tame version?” Artie asked, Isaac’s shrug making him feel no better. “Oh, great.”
For a long time—well after the Dome disappeared in the snowstorm behind them—Artie managed to hobble quickly enough to keep up. He grimaced with every step, his injured leg sinking deep into the snow, leaving not just tracks but bloody tracks in their wake, a potential walking meal for any beast that might be out there. His pant leg sheened with frozen redness and Artie wondered if a wound could freeze its way closed.
Even if it could, that can’t be a good thing, he knew, trying to avoid looking at his leg. When he finally glanced down, the sight of his stab wound instantly sucked away his strength and bravery. Artie collapsed into the snow with a moan, clutching at his leg. Isaac hurried to his side, kneeling beside him for a better look. He frowned.
“That needs to be wrapped up, but we’ll need supplies,” Isaac said. “There’s nothing I can do for you right now.”
“Then you’d better carry me,” Artie said.
Artie wrapped his arm around Isaac’s shoulder and Isaac struggled to stand, sinking deeper into the snow as he supported both of their weight. Each step proved more of a struggle than the last.
“Aren’t you supposed to offer to stay behind so we both don’t die?” Isaac asked with a chuckle.
“Hell no,” Artie said. “Heading into the Nothingness was your plan. I’m not dying alone if you’re the one that got us lost. Besides, I need to live long enough to get back Below to Emma.”
Isaac nodded. “I know what that’s like.”
“Then let’s go back,” Artie said, trying to turn to see behind them. “We can wait until it’s dark. . . break back in. . . try to find a way into the elevator leading Below.”
Isaac winced. He’d tried not to think about Below, tried not to think how he’d just missed reaching Julietta before she’d been taken into the tunnel leading to the elevator, tried not to think about what she might be enduring—what she might be suffering—now that she was back in the city, where she could end up back in the evil clutches of. . .
Isaac stopped and also looked back, though the Dome was long gone. Artie’s arm slid off Isaac’s shoulder and he nearly collapsed, his eyes momentarily fluttering. Isaac didn’t know how far they’d gone—or how far they had left to go, or if they were even headed in the right direction—but he did know that pressing forward was their only chance for survival.
“Even if we made it back, the Jonas boy would kill us on the spot,” Isaac said. “We’re no good to Julietta and Emma if we’re dead. We need weapons. We need you to heal. We need to attack and force our way into the elevator when they aren’t expecting it. Better yet, we need to find enough clothing and supplies to come back around here and search for a safer path into the tunnels. I know they’re out here somewhere.”
“Just promise me. . . it won’t be much. . . longer. . .”
Artie’s eyes rolled into his head again and more of his weight pressed onto Isaac. Doubt soon crept into Isaac’s mind, doubt that they’d both make it, doubt that they were headed in the right direction, doubt that he’d ever make it back to Julietta. He no longer searched for any sign of beasts, but he couldn’t stop considering what he’d do if one arrived. Artie was becoming dead weight and he wondered if a beast might be distracted long enough by an easy meal to let Isaac escape. . .
He shook his head, shame filling him. How could I ever look Julietta in the eye if I stooped so low to get back to her?
Isaac turned his eyes skyward instead, his face struck with a blast of snow. He saw clouds and falling sheets of white, but no sign of other movement. To keep his mind focused on anything but imminent death, he told Artie about the Sky People and how they really existed. Artie moaned a few times in response, but his consciousness remained fleeting. Every few minutes, Artie would become coherent, his body tensing in Isaac’s grip, able to hobble on his own and support more of his weight. But those bursts of energy never lasted longer than a few seconds and came with decreasing frequency. Even though Isaac spoke for his own benefit as much as Artie’s, he couldn’t help thinking about dropping Artie once and for all and striking out on his own.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been lost out here, he thought. Grayson isn’t here to save me this time.
When Artie slipped through Isaac’s grasp, Isaac wondered if dropping him had truly been an accident. Isaac looked down at him and frowned. He even took a few steps back before Artie’s eyes popped open and stared at him.
“I’ll just go ahead,” Isaac whispered, though his words were lost in the shrill wind. “I’ll find the bunker. . . I’ll come back for you. . .”
Artie gave no indication that he’d heard or understood. Isaac wasn’t kidding himself; he knew Artie wouldn’t survive much longer. He thought about Emma when looking at Artie, thought about how Emma would be hoping for a reunion with Artie as much as Isaac wanted a reunion with Julietta. But Isaac knew Emma would be okay one way or another, that her privilege as a Weller would ensure a good future for her, whether it was the exact future she wanted or not. Bitterness and jealousy crept into Isaac’s mind at this realization, and he knew Julietta wouldn’t be awarded the same level of protection.
“I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “It’s more important that I survive. . . for Julietta. . .”
Isaac trudged forward, each step more difficult than the last, shame filling his legs with iron, making it almost impossible to move. When he hurried back to Artie’s side, he found the young man’s eyes wide open, staring straight up. A jolt stabbed at Isaac’s chest and he worried he was too late. But Artie’s eyelids blinked and his eyes focused on Isaac.
“Were you going to leave me?”
Isaac laughed as he bent over and dragged Artie back to his feet.
“Of course not,” Isaac said. “I’ll need you for bait in case we encounter a rogue beast.”
Artie nodded. “Glad I can help somehow.”
Artie’s clarity didn’t last long. He continued to shuffle his legs, but his eyes remained half-closed and his mumbled words slurred. Isaac only caught the gist of what he was saying about missing his mother, about forgiving his father, and about Emma being right all along about the Lord and Jonas.
“Now I know why Emma seems to like you so much,” Isaac said.
Artie’s eyes focused long enough to smile. “Why is that?” he muttered.
“Because you’re willing to admit that you’re wrong and she’s right.”
Artie chuckled, the effort causing his eyes to close again. Isaac considered his own words, applied them to his life with Julietta and the decisions he’d made that affected them both. He found it harder and harder to stop regret from crushing him, regret about every terrible choice he’d made that got him to where he was.
That got me walking farther away from Julietta. . . walking toward my own demise and probably hers, too. . .
Isaac was too tired to cry and knew tears would freeze long before running off his face. He kept going, kept stepping with his left foot, kept dragging Artie a few inches forward, kept stepping with his right, kept taking a deep breath of frigid air before starting the entire process over, his mind shutting down though his body pushed itself through the motions.
The sound of crunching snow burst through the fog in his brain. He spun so fast, scanning the Nothingness for what had caused the noise, that he nearly dropped Artie, who mumbled some sort of complaint about the bumpy ride. Isaac saw nothing but falling snow, not that he could focus his eyes for longer than a few seconds at a time. He told himself to keep going, but his movements were slower and clumsier as the snow fell heavier and the winds gusted colder. Every breath stung his lungs and sapped him of what little energy he had left.
