Parched (39 page)

Gyan glances at the Tranq holding me. His words are clipped and perfunctory, as if he were wrapping up a meeting that had run far too long. “Execute the rebels at once. Starting with her.”

Ling, Naz, and Achilles cry out. Every razer on deck swings toward my head or my heart.

I try to find Hunter's eyes, so his gaze can be the last thing I witness. But I can't see him through the wire net. My breath steams in front of me, like the razer smoke that'll surround my corpse. I hear sobbing: Ling. It echoes around the deck and fills the quiet corners with defeat.

I close my eyes.

I was right about Hunter.

I did the best I could.

I am not afraid to die.

A sharp, deep cry. My eyes fly open. Gyan clutches his hand, the one holding the mirror matter. There is something embedded in the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He pulls it out, and both the mirror matter and a small, ceramic unicorn drop to the floor. Its horn is smeared in Gyan's blood. The mirror matter rolls away. The razers aimed at me waver in confusion, as the entire ensemble searches for the unicorn's origin.

From the balcony that circles the flight deck, Myrtle's pale eyes glitter, locked on the mirror matter. “Pretty shining,” he snarls.

With a collective howl, hundreds of wild-eyed cell mates pour onto the flight deck.

In less than five seconds, the Trust is outnumbered ten to one. In ten more seconds, it's twenty to one, and it can't even be a fifth of the total prison population. The security systems. Hunter said he'd shut them all down. Which must mean Gyan's other zoo—the cell—was unlocked as well.

Razers fire wildly. Shouts punch the air. The Tranquil who has me lets me go as an enormous bald woman three times his size tackles him to the ground. I crawl on my hands and knees, trying to get to Hunter, but I can't see him through the throngs of people. In no time at all, prisoners have prods and razers. I duck out of the way of a barefoot boy swinging a prod to clear a circle around his small body. Cargo ship engines roar to life. People want to escape. We have to get a transport before they're all gone.

“Ling!” I yell, crawling through the chaos in Hunter's direction. “Achilles! Naz!” I have no idea if they can hear me, or if they're still alive.

I find a spare razer on the ground and use it to blast a Tranq out of the way. As his body hits the floor, I see the writhing mass of gray wire.
Hunter!
I shove people out of the way, stumbling toward him.

“Hunter!” I fall to my knees and begin tearing at the metal wiring.

“Tess!” His muffled voice tells me where his head is.

The metal net cuts my fingers. “Hunter!” I cry desperately. “The wire's too thick, I don't know how to cut it!”

“Get a razer and blast it!”

Gripping the gun securely, knowing I can't hurt him, I aim for his head and squeeze the trigger. The blast makes me flinch, but when I refocus, a small, smoking hole has appeared in the layers of wire net,
its edges singed black. “Yes!” I cry, shooting my hand through the small space. I can feel part of Hunter's body, maybe his cheek.

“Do it again!”

With one eye on the fighting around me and one eye on him, I keep firing methodically, circling out like spiral. Soon I see an ear, his nose, his eyes. I hear a cargo ship take off in a monstrous roar, and then another—I have to hurry. I'm almost done when a strong hand grabs my shoulder. I jerk it off, and swing the gun around. “Naz!”

“Don't shoot,” she says wryly. Crouching next to her are Ling and Achilles. They must still be in handlocks as their hands are behind their backs.

I turn the gun back to Hunter and keep firing, talking quickly as I do. “We have to get a transport. I'm almost done.” I fire one last blast. “Can you make it out?” I call to Hunter.

Hunter's broad shoulders wriggle free from the netting, the singed wire scraping his skin. It's so sharp it'd slice open a human, but with Hunter it doesn't seem to penetrate more than a few millimeters. The blue blood that stripes his cheeks and arms look like delicate lines of paint.

“Watch out!” Naz points at an oncoming buzzcar; some prisoners had commandeered it, but they've lost control. The little car plows through the crowd toward us. Everyone scrambles to get out of the way. I struggle to pull Hunter free of the netting. The car is coming right for us. “Move!” I yell at Kudzu, and they scatter.

Hunter's arms finally pull free. With seconds to spare, I drag him from the netting and we throw ourselves from the car's path. It explodes against a far wall with a fiery crash. Hunter's pulling me to my feet even before I've processed that we made it.

“The cargo ships are all taken,” he says.

“Buzzcar,” I say, coughing through the smoke. The explosion is actually a good distraction; part of the flight deck's wall is on fire. “Get the others into one. I'll get the mirror matter.”

“But—”

“You've got to stay out of sight, and so do they,” I say. “Don't argue, go!”

I dive back into the crowd. I keep low, scanning the ground methodically. I wonder if Gyan is still here, if he had a chance to grab Hunter's life force before the prisoners attacked.

I'm in a moving tableau of bare feet, Tranquil boots, and smooth Quick legs. A layer of smoke fills the top of the deck, but as smoke rises,
the ground is thankfully clear. I step over bodies and avoid splatters of blood. More buzzcars zip up and out.

Just as I'm about to give up hope, I see it. There, spinning around on the ground, being kicked every which way. I drop my razer and lunge for it, miss by inches, then dive through the crowd. There, again! In the far corner of the deck, out of the way of everyone. I race to snatch it up—but I'm too late. Someone steps from the shadows and scoops it up, seconds before I can.

“Pretty shining,” Myrtle coos happily, holding the mirror matter up to his eyes.

“Myrtle!” I gasp, thankful it's him and not someone from the Trust. I snatch at the mirror matter. He pulls it back. Then he slips his long fingers into the pocket of his pink jacket and pulls out a small razer gun. My chest freezes. “Myrtle, I need that. It's not a beautiful thing, it's a power source—”

“What's my trade?” He cuts me off derisively, spittle spraying in my face. “Hmm? Trade? You have nothing to trade for the pretty shining?”

But I do have something to trade. My mom's necklace.

I can't change the past. But I can choose the future.

I snap the chain off my neck and hold it out to him. “Remember this?” Myrtle's yellow eyes light up. He does. He glances between the mirror matter and the necklace, his thin lips twisted in confusion. He mumbles something under his breath. “You can't wear the pretty shining,” I cajole. “But you can wear this.”

“Pretty shining.” Myrtle mutters, sniffing the cylinder. “But pretty necklace too.”

“You've got three seconds to decide,” I snap. “Three. Two. One—”

“All right.” Myrtle thrusts the mirror matter at me and snatches the necklace from my fingers.

For the second time in my life, I have the glowing, sparkly, shimmering mirror matter.
I have it
. I turn in the direction of the buzzcars, and I run.

I duck and weave through the thinning crowd, slipping past prisoners and Tranquils, across the deck in the direction of the buzzcars. There's only one left. Ahead of me a Tranquil and a tall toothless man covered in tronics grapple for control of a razer. I dodge past them but lose my balance, stumbling into someone else, who catches my arm as I fall. It's a man in a bright yellow robe.

I am face-to-face with Gyan.

I'm so shocked I can't speak. Neither can he.

His eyes drop to the mirror matter. A smile crawls its way onto his mouth. “Well, well, well,” he says softly. With a jerk, he twists my arm behind my back. Pain explodes in my shoulder, and I cry out. I'm barely conscious of the mirror matter clattering to the ground. My legs give way and I'm forced to my knees. “Look what you have for me, Just Tess.” He twists my arm even more and I shriek again, short and sharp. The pain is hot and stabbing and won't let up. Struggling makes it worse.
He's going to break my arm
. Gyan's voice is a soft snarl in my ear. “Let this be a lesson to—” But he never finishes his sentence. There's a flash of white light, and his body spasms. Razer fire.

Gyan drops to his knees, squealing in pain and letting me go. I scramble to my feet, my shoulder burning and singing with relief. A second later, his eyes roll back in his head and he crumples to the concrete. Unconscious? Dead? I'm hoping it's the latter.

Grabbing the mirror matter, I scan the crowd for the shooter. Standing a few feet from the stairwell entrance is Abel. The razer in his hand is still aimed at Gyan.

“Tess!” On the other side of the hangar, Ling gestures at me to hurry to the buzzcar.

“One minute!” I call through the chaos, then sprint toward my uncle.

“Tess, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” He's pleading as I reach him.

“Do you have a way out?” I pant, drawing us close to the hangar wall.

“No. Yes. I'll be fine,” he stutters. He looks so broken and strung out that my heart almost breaks. “Do you?”

“Yes. A buzzcar. But it's—” I can't bring myself to say
full
, but it is. Buzzcars only take up to five people: any more and they won't fly.

Abel nods in understanding. “Tess,” he says nervously. “There's one other thing. One other thing about Hunter.”

“What?” I gasp, glancing back at the car where Ling is waving at me furiously.

Abel's eyes dart from the buzzcar and back to me, flustered. “Nothing. Nothing important.”

I frown, now curious, even worried, but there's no time and we both know it.

Abel pushes me gently toward the car. “Go. I'll be fine.”

A round of razer fire smashes into the wall a few feet from our
heads and we both flinch. “How?” I ask. “How are you getting out of here?”

Instead of answering my question, Abel takes my chin with bandaged fingers. For a second, he holds my gaze tenderly. His eyes are warm and wet with tears. “I am so proud of you, Tessendra,” he says. His voice cracks saying my name. Then, in a firmer voice: “Go.”

I pull him close for a hug. Then I turn and bolt for the car.

“Let's go, let's go!” Naz is yelling at me. The car's already moving toward the hangar's opening as she helps pull me in. Ling and Achilles are squashed next to her in the backseat, yelling at me to hurry up. Hunter's in the driver's seat, silent and focused. His eyes flick to take in the mirror matter, then meet mine in relief.

As the car door folds shut, I twist back in my seat. Abel stands where I left him, pale as a ghost. He's smiling bravely and holding up one hand in a shaky farewell. I hold his gaze, as sure and strong as I can.

Then we shoot out fast over the edge of the hangar, flying away from the Three Towers.

Below
us, the Smoking Mountains are a blur of white snow and black granite. Hunter takes the tube of mirror matter from my white-knuckled hands and places it carefully on the dashboard. The little car's displays beep and whirl fluidly.

“Are we off-cycle?” Ling asks breathlessly from the backseat.

“Yes,” Hunter replies.

In an explosion of sound, Ling, Naz, and Achilles immediately go crazy. They're hysterical with relief; laughing and yelling as they recap our ordeal.

“I thought we were done for!”

“What about when he serfed the Quicks—”

“The unicorn—”

“The butterflies—”

“The net!”

I stare straight ahead, but my eyes aren't seeing the sweeping view. I am completely overwhelmed, barely able to process what just happened.
We made it out
, I think numbly.
We escaped
. My heart rate starts to slow. My muscles start to unclench. A tiny tear of relief slides down my cheek. I turn to the boy next to me. “Are you okay?”

Hunter's brow furrows, thinking hard about the question. But when he looks at me, his face becomes peaceful. “Yes,” he says softly. “Yes, Tess, I am.”

Ling leans forward. “What's the plan?”

“I'm taking us to the loops,” Hunter replies, instantly professional. “We can decide what to do there.”

“Good idea,” Ling says. “We're not out of the woods yet.” She's right. With the Trust after us in a city that has eyes everywhere, our escape has just begun.

We clear the lower half of the mountain and start flying over the houses of the South Hills. From up here, the large houses with their blue swimming pools and wide decks look like toys. The sun burns directly above us, reflecting in the shifting surfaces of the pools. It must be about midday. “Izzy lives down there,” I murmur.

Hunter follows my gaze. “That must feel . . . strange.”

Strange
is an understatement. Just over a year ago, I'd been sunning myself by Izzy's pool while we complained about the lack of decent dresses in the boutiques or hot guys in education. The Trust was a vaguely annoying presence I didn't really consider and the Badlands was somewhere exotic and dangerous I had no intention of ever visiting, except maybe overnight on a dare. Now I feel grateful just to be alive.

“How did you remember me?” I ask Hunter. “I thought they wiped your memories.”

He reaches over and starts to slide his fingers up my right arm.

“Hunter!” I push his hands back to the two control sticks in alarm. “You're still flying.”

His mouth quirks into a crooked smile. I realize that we are still flying, even with his hands off the sensitive controllers, even with his eyes meeting mine. He's flying the car with his . . . powers. My lips part in amazement, and then promptly snap shut as he starts moving his fingers again. They trace over the black cityscape on my arm, making it tingle. “This,” he says. “This is how I got you back.”