False Sight (22 page)

lost the girl I loved one month ago, before the cold winds came. Before the snow started to fall. Miranda liked it when my hair was longer because it curled, so I grew it

Miranda’s sacrifice saved us from annihilation. There is no doubt of that. The world should know her name, but they don’t. All they know is fear.

This morning, Noble knocked on my bedroom door. The four of us—Rhys, Sophia, Noble, and me—are living in a fancy New York City apartment. The president, who survived in his bunker, put us here whenNoble told him who and what we are. Noble told him it was the most likely location for True Earth to strike next. He promised they’d be back. And they would use eight million people as a meat shield, just like they did in Commander Gane’s world.

In my bedroom, Noble said to me: “Peter, I need your assis - tance. I need you to help me find something. It’s important.”
“Get Rhys.”
I would wait and then fight, but I wasn’t interested in see- ing anyone, or talking to anyone. I did push-ups and stayed hydrated and stared out my window looking over Central Park. I waited for them to come with ice in my veins.
He said: “I asked you.”
Now I stand amid the wreckage of the Verge. The black sky overhead is endless, a bloated corpse filled with purple wormsoflightning.Thewindhowlsbetweentheemptybuild- ings, carrying the scent of rotten meat and dust. The ground is a tumble of boulders and twisted metal. The Verge is a small mountain of broken glass and ash.
No tears come. I save them for the night, when I’m alone. I can picture Miranda’s face and hear her voice.
We’ ll talk,
she said to me.
I love you.
Noble walks through the wreckage, rooting through it with his feet. He has a small data pad in his hand that he references from time to time. I asked him what we were doing out here, but he ignored me. I think about Noah and Miranda and how I didn’t get the chance to say good-bye. Some nights

I pick up a rock and throw it into what’s left of the Verge’s moat. The black water eats it whole, then stills.
Noble calls to me a few minutes later. I pick my way over the rocks, tired and out of patience. I want to go back to my bed.
He’s smiling when I get to him. He leans against a rock taller than himself and laughs.
“Come here.”
“What is it?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
He’s got something between his thumb and forefinger. I hold out my hand, and he sets it in my palm, gently.
“Careful with that, boy. That’s your love.”
It’s a metal disc the size of a quarter, stamped with an
M
.