Alarmed, Mira looked behind them. She saw it, too. A wall of water was barreling down on them. And fast.
“It’s a flash flood,” Holt said.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Mira yelled. “
More
water?”
Holt pushed forward through the murk as fast as he could.
Ahead of them, the first buildings of the ruined city loomed out of the black water like ghosts in the fading afternoon light.
They rushed for them as the flood gained on them from behind. They could hear it now, slamming against the cliffs on either side, rushing toward them.
What was left of a dry cleaners was directly in their path, its windows broken and empty, its roof teetering above the water.
They pushed desperately toward it. An old metal Dumpster sat to the side of the building, rusting but still in one piece. If they could get to it, they might be able to reach the roof. Holt moved for—
The flood caught them, tossing them forward like they weighed nothing.
They crashed hard into the side of the building. The raging waters ripped a screaming Zoey off Holt’s back. Mira just managed to grab the little girl’s hand as she flew by, pulled her back in.
They were pinned in place for the moment. But the water level was rising, faster and faster, threatening to rip them all away.
Holt looked up at the roof. It was their only shot, but even with the risen water level, it was still out of reach.
“Give me Zoey!” Holt shouted to Mira over the flood.
She did, handing the little girl off to him. Holt planted himself against the side of the building and lifted her toward the roof.
“Zoey, grab on!” he yelled. The little girl found a handhold on the roof’s edge, pulled herself up and over.
Holt pulled Mira to him roughly, his hands encircling her waist.
“Hey!” she shouted in surprise.
“Slap me later,” he said as he lifted her lithe figure upward. “Zoey! Grab her hand!”
The little girl leaned over the roof’s edge, found Mira’s hand, and pulled it onto the roof edge, where she could find purchase.
As Mira pulled herself up, Holt pushed from below. She scrambled onto the roof, out of the water.
The flood was getting stronger, threatening now to pull Holt off the building wall and drag him away.
He grabbed Max by the neck. The dog yelped, but Holt ignored him. He lifted the mutt up to Mira. When her hands touched him, the dog growled and barked testily.
“Cut it out! I’m trying to help!” Mira yelled, yanking Max up and over onto the roof.
Only Holt was left. He looked up at Mira. She looked down at him.
Holt read it in her eyes. She was thinking it through. And he knew what her thoughts were. It was a simple choice, to help him or not to help him. She could easily let the water take him (and all her problems) away. Just like that.
If Holt were her, it would be an easy decision. He’d let him go. He’d eliminate the bounty hunter who wanted to take him home to be killed. Why should she save him? When survival said that she should let him die?
But a part of him hoped she wouldn’t. The part that had come to believe they had a connection, in spite of their differences. He realized he wanted that connection to be confirmed. And he didn’t like how strong those feelings were becoming.
Time seemed to slow. What really was a second or two seemed like minutes, the two staring at each other, each reading the other’s thoughts …
… and then, Mira frowned. She reached downward, offered her hand.
Holt didn’t have time to be relieved. He reached up for it with his left hand, and her grip wrapped around the thick black bracelet on his wrist. Together, with her pulling and him scrambling along the wall, he climbed up and over the edge.
When he was on top, out of the water, he collapsed to the roof, breathing heavy. He heard the floodwaters still rushing by below.
Max leapt on him, started licking his face clean. Holt didn’t have enough energy to stop him.
“Holt!” he heard Zoey exclaim, felt her hug him, her head sink to his chest. “You’re not dead!”
“Knock on wood next chance I get,” he replied, exhausted.
He looked for Mira, and saw her sitting along the edge of the roof, her back to him, hugging her knees, watching the sun set behind the cliffs to the west. The floodwaters rushed by below, dragging with them all kinds of debris—barrels, tires, car doors, a refrigerator.
She was motionless as she sat there.
“Mira’s happy, too,” Zoey said. “Don’t worry.”
Wishful thinking, Holt knew.
He, Zoey, and Max sat down next to Mira, watching the sky darken into hues of orange above them.
“Here,” Holt said, pulling a piece of strawberry taffy from his pack and handing it to Zoey. “Give it to Max.”
“The Max gets candy!” Zoey shouted, giving it to the dog. He sucked the whole thing into his mouth excitedly … and then painstakingly started trying to chew the tough piece of sugary goodness. Zoey laughed.
Holt turned back to the sunset. He didn’t look at Mira. She didn’t look at him. They just sat next to each other quietly, distant and close at the same time.
“Thanks,” he said after a moment.
Mira nodded. “Yeah.”
They sat that way a long time, listening to the sounds of the water rushing by below, until the light finally began to fade and the sky darkened.
They didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else to say.
18.
BLACK WATER
THE SKY CONTINUED TO DARKEN
as the colors faded, the clouds becoming floating silhouettes of charcoal and black above them. When Holt stood up, he finally had a moment to really look at where they were. The roof of the dry cleaner’s was one building in what used to be small town America from the World Before.
The ruins stretched in all directions, a hundred buildings or more poking up and out of the flooded landscape, half submerged, all crumbling and rotting where they stood. Rusted signs and decals identified them as office buildings, groceries, hardware stores, apartments, churches, a library, a courthouse.
All abandoned now. All sunken. All lifeless …
Holt led them to the edge of the cleaner’s roof. The city had been built close together; the tops of the buildings weren’t that far apart. It wouldn’t be that hard to jump between them. Unless you were Zoey or Max—then it got a little more problematic.
“What we really need is a bridge,” Holt said, examining the gap between the roofs.
“Maybe we can make one,” Mira said. Off another edge of the dry cleaner’s were the remains of a feed store. Its roof was made of rippled sheet metal, like a barn. Long rectangular holes dotted its surface where some of the pieces had collapsed and fallen through. From where they stood, the sheet metal strips seemed long enough to span the divide between most roofs in the ruins.
The top of the store looked precarious at best. Since it required someone jumping across, Mira volunteered. She was lighter, would have less of an impact when she hit the top.
The roof shook when she landed, more pieces of the sheet metal fell away into the gap. But the structure didn’t collapse. Mira grabbed one of the long pieces, lifted it up, and placed it like a bridge between the feed store roof and the dry cleaner’s.
It was strong enough that Zoey and Max could slide across it, if they took their time. Of course, getting Max to take his time doing anything was difficult. But Zoey kept a firm hold on him as she crossed the bridge, and the dog seemed eager to move at her pace.
“Can I ride the Max across the next bridge?” Zoey asked.
“No!” Holt and Mira said in unison.
Using the portable bridge, the four cautiously traversed building to building, Holt and Mira leaping between the gap, Zoey and Max sliding along the sheet metal.
The sun was almost down now behind the cliffs. Ahead of them was Holt’s goal. A much larger building, maybe five stories tall in the center of the ruined town. A rusted sign, barely holding on to its wall, read
TAVERN INN.
A hotel. Holt guessed it would be the best place to make camp for the night. Its floors were higher above the water than the other buildings, and probably drier and in better shape.
Its roof was much higher, though, and there was no way to reach it with the bridge. But they could reach the old fire escape that climbed down its side like a vine. They extended the bridge so Zoey and Max could cross; then Holt and Mira jumped to the other side.
Holt climbed several flights until he found a room with its window still intact and unlocked. He opened it and let the others inside. Before he followed, Holt looked at and appraised the city around them in the fading light.
Across from them was an old drugstore, and it didn’t seem as flooded as the other buildings. Holt studied it with interest before he crawled in after the others.
The room was in tatters. Wallpaper peeled off the walls, the ceiling was a patchwork of holes and mold, and the bed and furniture were covered in dust, but it was dry and secure. The door to the hallway outside was closed, and Holt made sure it was locked and chained. A futile gesture, probably, but it didn’t hurt.
Holt looked to the others. They were slumped on the floor in exhaustion, resting against the peeling wall.
“You have a look in your eye, Hawkins,” Mira said as she watched him at the door. “What are you about to do?”
“There’s something I want to check out, before the sun sets. Can you hold the fort?”
“Sure, it seems quiet,” Mira said, turning to look out the window above her.
“Yeah,” Holt said with a frown. “That’s what bothers me.” He slipped out the window.
As he did, Mira called after him. “Don’t get lost,” she said.
“You’re not that lucky,” he said with a slight smile, and stepped onto the fire escape.
Holt scrambled up to the roof and scanned what little of the city he could see in the fading light. He found the drugstore again, below him, but not adjacent to the wall with the fire escape.
How was he going to get down there? Holt figured he could jump, but it was a two-story drop. Even if he managed it without breaking something, the roof was most likely in just as bad a condition as all the others he’d seen. He might go crashing straight through it.
Holt looked around. There was a thick line of cable strung between the two roofs, probably a power line. It was attached by large bolts into the brick walls on both sides, then continued on to more of the submerged buildings in the distance. It was definitely thick enough to support his weight. The question was, would those bolts hold?
Worst-case scenario, they wouldn’t. And he’d tumble down into the black floodwaters below. Not a good thing.
But the drugstore was worth the risk. This whole city, because of where it was, and the dangers involved in reaching it, probably hadn’t been explored since the invasion.
That store most likely held things he could use, things he couldn’t find anywhere else. And there would almost certainly be valuable items for trade. Medicine, writing instruments, bandages, even deodorant and toothpaste were highly valuable commodities now.
Survival dictated that he explore it, in spite of the risk.
Holt moved for the cable bolted underneath him. He could just reach it.
* * *
MIRA AND ZOEY SAT
in the crumbling bedroom, listening to Max continue to work on the taffy Holt had given him earlier. It was tough going. He’d managed to gnaw off only about half of the thick, sticky substance.
Mira stared at the dog in annoyance. The sounds were starting to get on her nerves, a gross combination of crunching and slurping. The dog was a dirty, stinky nuisance that constantly stared at her with its dark, conniving eyes. It didn’t like or trust her, which was fine for Mira, because the feeling was mutual.
Mira reached for the taffy in Max’s mouth. He erupted into an enraged combination of barks and growls, advancing on her in a frenzy.
“Okay, okay! Fine!” Mira shouted, backing off. “Keep the stupid thing.”
Max lay back down and picked up where he’d left off, but kept a wary gaze on Mira. She glared back at him.
“He likes candy,” Zoey said beside her. When the little girl reached out to pet the dog, he didn’t even bat an eye, just kept staring and chewing while Zoey rubbed his ears.
“Clearly.” Mira looked out the window. It was getting dark, what was left of the daylight fading fast. The shadows grew outside, consuming more and more of the sunken, suburban landscape. The idea of spending the night in this place was starting to seem less appealing.
“The things you use,” Zoey said softly. “The things that do the special stuff. What are they?”
Mira looked at Zoey. “They’re things from a place called the Strange Lands. Most people call them artifacts.”
“How did you learn to make them?” Zoey asked.
“I had a teacher,” Mira said. “At Midnight City. But the truth is, it was just something I was good at. It came easier to me than it did to other kids.”
“Have you been to the Strange Lands a lot?”
Mira smiled. “Yep. I’m a Freebooter.” The words came from her easily; she was still so used to reciting them. But it wasn’t totally true anymore, was it? “Or I used to be. Before … everything happened.” She would make those words true again, she told herself. She would find a way.
“What’s a Freebooter?” Zoey asked.
“Someone who travels the Strange Lands looking for artifacts to bring back and trade. Someone who knows how to survive there.”
“Is it scary?”
Mira smiled at the questions. “Parts of it are, sure. Time and space don’t work right there anymore.”
“Why?” Zoey asked.
“I don’t know—no one does. It didn’t happen until the Assembly came, though, so it must have something to do with them.”
It was almost a year since she had been there, but the memories were still vivid. The air in the Strange Lands had a charge to it, like static electricity, as if it were thick and tangible. The farther you went in, the more you felt it on your skin. On impulse, the hairs stood up on Mira’s arms as she thought about it.
It was a dangerous place, to be sure, but also beautiful and magical in its own way. Skies full of huge antimatter storm clouds, lightning flashes of purple and blue and red. Pulsars that seemed to be all colors at once hovering over gravity wells. Geysers sprayed fountains of dark matter into the air. Floating quark spheres morphed from one incredibly complicated geometric shape to another every second like clockwork.…