Crimson Rising (17 page)

He keeps his gaze forward. “This terrain is not unlike Haven. Warm. Dry.”

I cough. My mouth is dry from the temperature-controlled air. “What do you think Morse meant … ‘you’re going to regret this’?”

Eva ignores me, pointing forward. “Now. Bring us level. Syracuse is straight ahead.” She folds the map and turns. “He’s just being the big, bad agent, Jesse. Trying to intimidate you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I reply, though part of me doesn’t quite believe it. I’ve had a nasty feeling in my gut ever since the first time I defied the Academy. Even now that we’ve freed Ryel, it’s hard to reconcile the two.

I grip the armrest, trying to steady my nerves. As we lose altitude, New York State’s vast, brown desert fills more and more of our windshield. It’s a different kind of desolate than Siberia. Even at dawn, the temperature will be hotter than I’ve felt in months. One hundred and twenty degrees according to the onboard thermometer, and rising. A scorching, suffocating heat that crawls inside your body and kills you from the inside. Everything slows. Mind. Reflexes. We can’t be outside for long.

As we approach the dusty collection of buildings that used to be the town of Syracuse, I peer behind us out the side window. I see the silhouette of Rochester—Chosen City #17—glinting far in the distance, a beaming mirage against a blanket of dirt, a soaring metropolis positioned awkwardly at the edge of a desert. The dome of connectors forming the Bio-Net over the city gives it the impression of a protected snow globe. People inside are free from the intensity of the Fringes, their comfort and security paid for by the Government’s Environmental Tax. It’s the Unified Party’s domain, and even though Syracuse could be dangerous, I’d much rather land in the lawlessness of the Fringes than spend even a moment inside a Chosen.

Ryel brings us down in the center of what could be the same street we landed on last spring. They’re all the same.

Instantly flashes of that afternoon come back to me. My first meeting with Cassius, the energy when our powers activated, the fall to the ground.

“I’m shutting off the temp control,” Eva warns. “Prepare for the heat.” She turns a black knob above her head until it clicks. Earlier this morning, we’d found a pair of Surface outfits in the back hatch of the shuttle—pale, thin uniforms over undershirts. The material’s light, designed specifically to refract sunlight. Ryel insists that he doesn’t need one. His clothing is white anyway. He should be alright.

As soon as we open the door, the coolness inside our shuttle dilutes, replaced by the brutal heat outside. The air hits my body with physical force, as strong as any missile or explosion. It courses down my throat and into my lungs. There’s no comfort here. And this is just the beginning.

We amble down the lifeless street, shells of dirt-caked buildings on either side. A wind kicks up and showers our faces with clouds of dust. It’s utterly silent. I hope that means the Fringers are off in another part of town, as far from us as possible.

Eva speeds until she’s in step with me. “I don’t see anybody.”

“Shh.” I push her back. My head darts back and forth, analyzing every closed door as we pass. “Avery’s probably waiting inside. Do you remember which way the hotel is?”

Eva points to the left down an alley. I nod and lead the way between the buildings, keeping watch for Fringers. My cheek stings with the memory of being slammed into the hot brick wall last spring. I push the thought away and step into the next street.

Ryel follows, arms crossed, unconcerned with any of the dangers a Fringe Town could surprise us with. Ever since leaving Siberia, he’s seemed increasingly impatient. I guess I can’t blame him, after all the time we’ve wasted. Still, he’s not exactly the warm and happy type. But maybe he’s what I need.

“There.” I point to a building half a block away. It’s several stories high and dilapidated. If possible, I think it’s crumbled even more since the last time I saw it. I stare at the rooftop at the exact point I’d hung onto that morning. I thought I would die there. How wrong I was.

A voice shatters the silence—an undistinguishable, wordless cry from somewhere above us. Deep, but fractured. Eva and I duck instinctively. It doesn’t seem to startle Ryel.

Eva covers her head. “What was that?”

“It almost sounded like—”

“Fringers,” she interrupts. “They’re watching us. We better be quick.”

I glance up at the boarded window where the sound had come. Eva’s probably right. Fringers. That’s the likely explanation. Still, I can’t help but wonder.

“That’s Avery’s hotel,” I whisper. “What if they’re hurting her?”

Before Eva can answer, the door to the derelict building falls open, its top hinge knocked off. A figure stumbles out, cautious, shielding the harsh sun with her hand.

“Avery!” I forget the others and take off in a sprint. Nothing else matters for a second, not the unbearable heat or the threat of Fringers. I run until I’ve got my arms around her. I pull her close, unwilling to let her slip away again.

The monster hug doesn’t last long. Not as long as I’d like. Our damp skin sticks together as we part. Her hair, grown out some since I last saw her, is pulled back in a ponytail. Her face is dirty and mottled with sweat. Her eyes point down, unwilling to look at me.

I step back. “Is something wrong?”

She shakes her head.

“I can’t believe it’s you, Avery! All these months, I thought … I wondered if you were alive. I didn’t know what they’d do to you.”

“Shh.” She raises a finger. “There are Fringers nearby.” She glances around, lips trembling.

Eva moves beside me, expressionless. “Nice to see you again, Wicksen.”

Avery’s face hardens. Her breath quickens. It’s like she’s trying to keep from vomiting.

I lean forward and grab her hand. “Something’s wrong. What is it? Are you sick?”

She shakes her head.

“Eva, do we have water?”

“Back in the shuttle.” She steps away. “You want me to grab it?”

I nod, then turn back to Avery.

Avery meets Eva’s eyes. “Wait. Don’t go. Don’t leave him alone.”

I stare at her face. She still won’t look at me—not for more than a glance at a time. “What? Leave who?”

“I missed you, Jesse,” she says. “Seeing you here … urgh … ” She grabs her forehead. She’s sweating even worse now, like the beginning stages of Surface Stroke.

“We’ll get you in the shuttle.” I move behind her.

“No,” she says. “It’s all I can do to—” Her teeth clench. “Run away, Jesse. Run.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Run!” She backs into the doorway, bumping against the frame.

My heart sinks. “Avery, you sounded fine on the communicator. I thought you—”

The street erupts.

Footsteps echo in a clamorous beat, kicking up dust and sand in clouds around us. Men in dark battle suits rappel from buildings. The clicks and whizzes of artillery come next, locking on the center of the street where we stand. Avery doesn’t move, not even to flinch. She still won’t look at me.

I’m too stunned to speak. Everything happens in one moment. Before I know it, someone grabs me by the wrists and throws me to the ground. I eat dirt before struggling to bring my chin up. I can’t see anything through the brown cloud that obscures the alleyway.

The air begins to clear. Avery stands beside the hotel door, away from the front steps. She stares at me with wide, pleading eyes.

A second figure approaches from beyond the doorway. I don’t recognize the shadow at first, but as soon as her face comes into view she’s unmistakable, even with a scar carved into her cheek.

Madame. She’s alive. And smiling—the kind of smile that tells me that all she needs to do is raise a finger and I’ll be dead.

Madame clears two steps down from the doorway, arms crossed. “Pull him to his feet,” she orders. “I want to see his face.”

The soldier behind me yanks my arms so hard they nearly pop out of their sockets. I wince in pain as I’m brought to a standing position. My face is covered in dirt. I taste it in my mouth, feel the sharp grit between my teeth.

“Ah.” Madame smiles. “There he is.”

I try to look around for Eva and Ryel, but the soldier’s got my face pushed forward. All I see is Madame, and Avery behind her, hunkered against the safety of the building.

I struggle against the man’s grip. “What have you done to her?”

“Never you mind.” Madame moves closer and grabs my chin, pulling up and forcing me to look at her. I spit. It lands on her cheek, just below the scar. She ignores it. “Look at you. You’re not the same boy I met in Seattle.”

I kick at her ankles, but she releases my chin and moves away before I can make contact.

She turns to Avery, grabbing her wrist. “He’s loyal. You’re a lucky girl. Come, see him. You deserve it after all you’ve been through.”

Avery resists, but Madame pulls her forward until she’s within reaching distance. My arms are twisted so tightly behind me that I don’t have a chance to move, let alone grab her hand.

“What did she do to you?” I whisper. “Did she hurt you?”

“Jesse,” Avery starts. “I don’t know what to say.”

Madame creeps up behind her. “Say what he wants to hear, darling. You know how to talk to him.”

I look past Avery, directly into Madame’s eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“That’a boy.” She glances skyward. “This city is filled with Unified Party Cruisers. You can’t see them from where you’re standing, but I’ve got one prepared just for you.” She lays her hand on Avery’s shoulder. “I’ll let the two of you sit together if you’d like. You can catch up.”

I notice movement behind her, another shadow in the doorway. With the last bit of leverage available, I shift an inch to the side to see Cassius standing there, expression grim.

My heart jumps at the sight of him. He’s thinner than I remember, and wears an unadorned white shirt and pants. “Cassius! Thank god. Do something!”

Madame turns to look at him, wiping what’s left of the spit on her cheek. “You’re supposed to be upstairs.”

A boy emerges from the door and speaks before Cassius has a chance. “He slipped away, Madame.” He has the voice of a child, but the swagger of a soldier. “You told me not to hurt him—”

“It’s alright, Theo,” she says. “We might as well have everyone in the same place.”

I wait for Cassius to summon a burst of fire, or at the very least tackle her to the ground. Anything to turn the tide in our favor. But all he does is stand there, looking as helpless as Avery. His eyes meet mine. “Sorry, Fisher. We can’t do anything. It took all my strength to get down the stairs.”

My mouth falls open. I turn back to Madame. “It’s a chip, isn’t it? Like last spring … like the one you put in Avery’s head.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies.

I’m about to respond when Ryel’s voice comes from behind me, louder and more forceful than I’ve ever heard it. “Your attention, please!”

The soldier behind me pivots, dragging my feet across the dirt until I can see Ryel. They’ve got a half-circle of guns pointed in his direction. Eva’s not too far off, threatened by a second firing squad.

Madame marches toward him. “And you would be?”

“My name is Ryel.” His voice is remarkably calm. “Let the boy go.”

Madame laughs. Then, the longer she stares at him, the realization dawns on her. “I see. You’re one of them, aren’t you? An invader.”

He swallows. His eyes lock onto hers. “Yes. And I’m asking you to release us before I’m forced to access my special abilities.”

Her eyes slit. “What special abilities?”

“I can flatten this entire battalion with a blink of my eye. I can do it standing right here, several yards from you. And you will feel the brunt of it. I can guarantee that.”

I stare at him. There’s no way he’s telling the truth. If he was that powerful, he could have escaped from Alkine’s island weeks ago.

Madame clears her throat. “You’re lying.”

“You know nothing of our people.”

“I know more than you think.” She smiles. “And you, sir, are lying.”

“Is that a chance you want to take?”

She crosses her arms and motions to a soldier beside him. The hilt of a gun slams into the side of Ryel’s head. He stays standing, though visibly disoriented.

“Yes.” Madame motions to another soldier. “This one will be worth studying. Don’t damage him more than you have to.” She turns back to me. “We hunt Pearls, Jesse, as always. The Fringes are more chaotic than ever. A war with the Skyships is inevitable. We need power.”

“You’re not gonna get it,” I reply. “I won’t let you.”

“It will not be your decision to make,” she says. “But think of it this way. At least you and Cassius will be together again. No more running. Won’t that be nice for a change?”

An explosion rattles the silence. It comes from behind us with enough force to knock me forward. The soldier releases his grip on my arms. I stumble to my knees. Bits of dirt and wood fly through the air. For a moment it’s so chaotic that I can’t tell which direction is which. A brown cloud envelopes me, thick and hot. It feels like fingernails scratching my body. Just as the echo of the blast begins to fade, a second explosion rips through the street a quarter mile to my right. Then another.

The entire city’s coming down.

With each explosion, the air becomes murkier. Soon, it’s impossible to see my own hands in front of me. Alarms wail in the distance, sounding from cruisers along neighboring streets. The clicks and hums of readied artillery join the fray, though it’s impossible to tell how near or far I am from anything. Madame yells in front of me, but can’t get all the words out before succumbing to a succession of coughs.

And then, a battle cry. A hundred voices arrive at once, shouts and yells as dark figures cut through the dust cloud in rapid snapshots. Some carry sticks. Others brandish chains or knives. One trips over my outstretched leg and slams into the dirt. I brush my hand through the air to get a better look. The stranger turns, his face obscured by an oval-shaped, translucent mask. His skin is bronzed, turned dark from Surface Tan.

Fringers.

Another explosion rattles the street. A sulfurous stench clogs the air, along with dark billows of smoke. They’re bringing down the city. TNT, or some sort of old bombing device like that.