Arclight (24 page)

I haven’t felt so much as a nudge against my thoughts since our argument, and while I’m relatively certain Rue will answer if I initiate the conversation, I don’t want him to take it as an invitation to fill my mind as he sees fit. But there’s no way I can keep up the pace he’s set.

“Here is not a place to rest,” he says when I give in to the protest of my muscles and drop on the spot.

We’ve passed into another group of used-to-be buildings, but like the houses before, it’s a ruin. The signs here are red and green, and still standing. One warns people to
STOP
, while the others form an X, where
SEABOUND
crosses
WINDBOURNE
. There’s a pedal-bike with a missing wheel tied to the bottom of the post with a lock and chain. It’s a graveyard of the world we lost to the Fade, as dead as the people who no longer live here.

“I have to—just for a minute. Tell your Fade friends to come to you. I know they’re watching us.”

No—
tracking us
. Humans are prey to the Fade. I can’t let Rue’s temporary civility make me forget that. Fade senses are made for the hunt. Why else would they be so sharp?

I scan the crumbling buildings as far as I can see, but I already know everything’s Faded here. Signs that should tell me what this place used to be are bare where the Fade have stripped the wood that used to frame them. One of the doors reads
LI YUE PO’S
in blue letters against the glass, with a chart of times below, but they mean nothing to me. Inside, the place is empty.

Rue’s eyes cut through the Dark, glowing brighter and completely silver. He gestures toward a small, round clearing in the middle of the buildings. More deserted cars sit stopped around its edge.

“Wait here,” he says. “I must see beyond.”

He drops to his knees in the clearing and lays his hands flat against the ground. His markings rush off the ends of his fingers to mingle with the nanites pooled around him. He goes so still, I’m not even sure he’s breathing.

I count seconds in my head, to have some way to mark the passage of time. A minute, then two, with nothing beyond the rise and flow of the nanites along his arms. I fall back on my habit of searching out sounds to fill the emptiness, but rather than the steady comfort of a ticking clock, or whirring power lines that promise safety, there’s only the rustle of leaves without wind to cause them, and a whisper.

It’s those things, what Rue called voices; it has to be. They’re still moving. Maybe over my hands and feet. They’re so tiny and light, surely I could miss them scuttling across the toes of my shoes or onto my sleeves. I might not feel them until there’s so many they can pull me under like they did my jacket.

“R-Rue?” I call timidly, while rubbing my arms. “Are you almost done?”

I stand and pick up one foot to keep it clear of the ground, then switch when my leg grows tired, but my wounded side’s too weak to hold for long. The air grows cold and thick, and I imagine chilly fingers grazing my skin, trying to snatch me away while Rue’s unable to help me. I want to scream, but fear a flood of darkness spilling down my throat to overrun me from the inside out if I open my mouth too wide.

“Rue . . . say something. Tell me to be quiet again, I won’t get mad this time.”

But Rue’s still “seeing beyond,” whatever that means.

I know the Arclight was behind us when we started, and if I’m right, Rue’s taking us near the short side, which would account for his nerves. If I can make it to the Grey, that’s safer for me so long as the sun is up.

“Rue? Can you hear me?” I call out, but there’s still no answer.

On top of Li Yue Po’s, shimmer lines have begun to cluster where Fade are packed in so tight they’re interfering with each other’s camouflage. Four are completely visible. They’re staring at me, but don’t seem to know I can see them.

The Fade pools along the ground surge with an influx of nanites.

“Rue . . .”

If I don’t take my chance now, I’ll lose it. There are so many Fade encroaching on our position, I don’t think it’ll matter if they agree with Rue about my value to him or not. Surely they can overpower him.

I take a few measured steps away, wondering if I can find the route I took before. If I find that memory, then others could come after it. All I need is something to hold on to that will guide me to my next step. When I feel a wall of those ever-present black vines at my back, I slip my hand inside to pull them back, still walking in reverse away from the buildings.

I glance back at Li Yue Po’s to assure myself the Fade haven’t moved, but my timing’s terrible. I catch the eye of a short, silver-eyed Fade who startles when she realizes I can see her. Another turns toward me, and another, with scores of them dropping the facade of invisibility.

One, two . . . seven, ten . . . fifteen . . . I count them as they appear on other rooftops and my stomach plummets.

No one survives the Fade
.

No—
I
survive the Fade.

I now have two certainties about myself. I hate cobbler, and I’m a survivor.

I bolt before I can lose my nerve, head down, into the brush, choosing the path of least resistance, and wagering that the Dark is less dense where the light is closest. The ground becomes easier to navigate, with fewer rocks and jutting roots, and then the dark monochrome breaks, exploding into patches of color—a dramatic contrast of red and blue against the black. Flowers seem so out of place here.

I stop to catch my breath, kneeling off my sore leg, and I’m greeted by an intoxicating scent like nothing in the Arclight’s garden. A fine carpet of green covers the forest floor. Not grass, or even moss. It crunches under my touch and brushes off my fingertips like sand. Pink, and in places even an impossible white, show through in the form of tiny shoots and petals, but they’re all the same. They look real, but they’re not.

They’re nanites pretending to be plants, a macabre sort of photograph of the things they’ve replaced.

I startle at the cry of a familiar bird the color of a thundercloud, and lurch to my feet as realization sets in. It’s the bird I rescued—the swirls of black along its tail aren’t natural; they’re Fade marks. Was I being watched inside the Arclight? Am I still? Is it even a bird, or is it a replication, like the flowers? Can it speak to the hive?

Every step comes with a flinch, as I register the crispness under my feet where there should be soft grass, and feel the glasslike texture of swaying foliage against my skin. Drops trickle down from the canopy in rhythm with the sweat on my face. It’s an unplanned synchronization where I’m too in tune with this place for my own comfort. I run harder, pushing my leg against the pain, and slap each familiar thing as I pass it. An act of triumph, ticking it off as a step closer to home, and me being back where I belong. I’ve gone this way before; I’m certain of it.

I
survive
the Fade.

I’m going home.

I’ll tell our elders there’s another way to live besides drills and Red-Walls. Rue’s reasonable, to a point. If he could speak to Honoria . . . No, Mr. Pace. I still don’t trust Honoria. Even Dr. Wolff’s questionable, with his hidden rooms and Fade cages.

I’ll cross the Grey on the short side, and tell Mr. Pace about the Fade and their easy access to the tunnels under the Arclight. He’ll listen to me, and he’ll listen to Rue. He has to.

Eyes appear beside me and before me as I run, shining silver-blue. Fluid faces shift in and out of focus, on even level with my own, then disappear to reform lower, near the ground. I nearly trip on my own feet to stop myself from trampling them.

I dart through a gap in the brush, certain that my leg is ready to quit on me.

For half a second, multiple versions of my own face peer back at me, as the Fade try and recreate my features, and I turn away again. Shimmer lines solidify, creating a ghostly barrier of bodies between me and any possible escape route. I can only go where they’ll let me.

Oh God
. . . I’m being herded.

I don’t know where I am.

The Fade become a chimera, swapping out faces and features of all sizes and shapes with only the dead tone of their skin to connect the flow. My legs stop working and my knees lock down. Panic rises as I recognize the feeling—one of them, maybe all of them, are trying to take control of my body from me.

A confused frenzy muddies my vision as they try and take control of even what I can see. I squeeze my eyes shut until they hurt, causing sparks behind my lids.

This is
my
body.
I
own it. Not them.

“Leave me alone!”

There’s no echo to my voice. It strangles in the dank air and falls to the ground.

Vaporous fingers brush against my clothes and skin, taking hold of my hair and lifting it up. They trace my cheeks, below my closed eyes, and slip into my hands, nearly trying to hold them. Something tugs against my pant leg near the aching wound in my calf as though it can sense the burn below the cloth.

And the whole time, whispers swirl around me. Their voices are so strong, I can feel them press in from every side until I’m afraid to breathe because I might swallow them.

“Rue!”

I reach for the inhaler that’s no longer there, and curse him for taking it away from me; air would have been safe through my inhaler. The whispers unify into a single question of who and what Rue means. The word ripples out like rings dispersing in a pond.

“Let me go!”

Their control snaps as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I swing around to run again and slam into someone else.

The impact knocks me down.

My first thought is that Rue’s managed to get behind me and catch up, but it’s not his face; the Fade standing over me is female. Others bunch around her. They’re wearing clothes. Human clothes. Dresses and shirts, and pants made of denim. All that’s missing are the shoes. But they’re far too still to be real people.

Movement near the female’s feet draws my attention there as something small pushes its way through the crowd, and the Fade bends to lift a half-sized creature into her arms.

The Fade have
children
?

I’m sure somewhere in all the things I’ve learned, I knew the Fade took children along with anyone else, but that’s nothing put next to the reality of the tiny, dress-clad creature laying her head against the female’s shoulder, popping her thumb into her mouth. Several other young Fade peek out from the pack, but the adults keep them to the center.

“Stay away,” I order, horrified by the sight of those innocent faces marked with black lines.

I raise my hand to my throbbing head and it comes away wet with my own red blood—I’m bleeding in the middle of the Dark, surrounded by Fade.

“You’re damaged.” Rue’s voice. He pushes through the group.

“It’s not bad.” I tear my sleeve off to staunch the bleeding.

The Fade all watch me, but only Rue moves. Are they afraid of my blood?

“One alone doesn’t survive. One alone is lost,” he scolds. “Cherish—”

“I survive just fine,” I rasp, kicking out to create extra space between us. But I make the mistake of using my bad leg. Something gives with that rubber band feeling of snapping, worse than when it happened in my dream, and I’m every bit as helpless. My calf’s on fire.

The Fade stare while I founder, impressions of concern on their stolen faces. Rue’s close and getting closer.

I scramble back on heels and elbows until he traps me against a tree trunk, pressing me so hard into the wood that it feels like my spine’s going to snap. Sharp crystalline protrusions poke through the back of my shirt, deep enough to draw blood at the shoulder. His nostrils flare at the smell, and he steps away. He reaches his hand out, offering to pull me up. The images he sends my way are meant to remind me I don’t like being on the ground with the nanite pools.

“I can’t,” I say, my eyes blurred with tears. “My leg won’t hold. It burns.”

Rue crouches beside me, grasps either side of the seam on my pant leg, and tears it open.

Burn?

Before I can answer, he searches for the specifics in my mind, weighing them against what he knows of pain from his memories of the White Room.

“Not that kind of burn,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s the muscle. Under the skin, from where I was shot.”

He runs a finger over the scar tissue, and the echo of injury he dredges out of my subconscious combined with the pressure against the fresh hurt is too much. For a moment, they have me; my mind gets pulled into the hive so my thoughts and those of the Fade form a common well from which we all can draw.

I see it, and not just the fractured mess Rue found among my own recollections. Finally, from his own memory, he pulls the moment I went from dark to light. Through his eyes, I see the uniformed men and women searching for me. I see the water as he hones in on a figure hidden below a wooden pier. He’d heard gunshots, but hadn’t known what they were.

“Yes,” I say. “That was a rifle. I got in the way.”

Pain?

“Yes.”

“Heal,” he says, cupping his hand over the scar, searching for heat where there is none. He still can’t understand burning without light or fire.

“It
was
healing. But something happened . . . it felt like it ripped.”

Heal
.

Rue slices into the side of my leg with his fingernail, laying the pink scar open as I scream.

“Don’t!”

“Defective.” He blows out an angry puff of air when the blood runs there, too, and stains my pants.

Another slice comes so quick I’m convinced it only took the space between blinks. He’s released my ankle, and his own hand lays open from a slash across his palm. Shining black blood pools there, confined by the bowl of his fingers.

“No! No inclusion. I don’t want to be a Fade.”

This isn’t the same as having nanites on my skin for a few minutes before he takes them back; he’s actually going to put his blood in me. Nanite-filled blood, like Dr. Wolff had to cut out of Trey. I can’t go back to the Arclight without red, human blood. I’ll never see Tobin or Anne-Marie again.