The two boys looked up at her. “Who the hell are
you
?” the kid with the Recognizer asked.
“The one who’s gonna save your asses from my foot,” Dresden replied hotly. “She’s a Freebooter—start listening and answer her questions.”
“It’s for the Chinook. It’s an artifact that—”
“I know what it does, I’ve made them before,” Mira interrupted. “What do you
need
?”
The kids looked up at her and said at the same time, “The Focuser for the fourth tier.”
Mira nodded, unslung her pack. She knew what they needed, and she was pretty sure she had it. “I have a railroad tie. It’s bigger than you’re probably used to, but it’ll work in a pinch. What are you binding it with?”
“Short-gauge chain,” one of the kids answered.
“Get it!”
They rushed off toward their gear as Mira began digging through her pack.
The ship shook as more blasts rocked the ground, and she saw a second red Spider crash into the river in flames. When the Assembly were done with one another, they’d turn their attention back to finding Zoey … and then they were all screwed.
“And it started off such a nice day,” Dresden said, leaning against the ship’s wheel and watching the battle unfold.
“Tell me about it, I was having cupcakes earlier,” Mira replied. Where the hell was Holt?
* * *
HOLT ALMOST FELL FACE-FIRST
into the grass as he skidded to a stop in front of his guns. They were right where he’d left them, and with the explosions and fireballs just a few feet away, the sight of his old friends gave him peace of mind, if only a little.
He grabbed the weapons and quickly shoved each of them into their holsters. Now all he had to do was double-time it back to the ship and its stupid Captain. What was up with
that
guy, with his hair and his boots? “Beautiful and industrious”? He’d show
him
industri—
Holt heard a growl next to him. He turned and saw Max staring intently at the tree line ahead, his hackles raised, lips parted to show his fangs. The dog didn’t like something there.
Holt looked up at the trees, but couldn’t see anything. The battle was in the other direction. What could have gotten the dog so riled up?
The air shimmered as the cloaking fields dropped from more Assembly machines, small, agile ones painted green and orange. Holt’s eyes widened in horrible recognition.
Only four of them had survived the Drowning Plains, and they stood in the trees like mechanical ghosts, their armor scratched and dented and soiled. Their three-optic eyes whirred as they focused on Holt.
“Son of a…,” Holt said as he got to his feet. “Max, let’s go!”
The dog tore himself away from the tripods and they both ran as hard as they could back for the ship. Behind them, Holt heard the frightening, electronic trumpetings and the furious stomping of tripod legs.
Yellow plasma bolts flashed past and shredded the ground all around him. Max howled as they ran; he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself now.
Ahead of him, the Landship stood where they’d left it. Holt could make it. All he had to do was keep running, and he could—
The ship’s giant sails suddenly plumed outward like great eagle’s wings.
Landship sails were beautiful, Holt had always thought, patchworks of colors and patterns, made from all kinds of fabric, and these were no exception. Orange and purple and yellow, they looked like huge pieces of art fluttering in the wind, but because Holt knew what it meant, he didn’t feel the desire to stop and enjoy the view.
Mira must have fixed whatever the ship’s problem was, and now it was
leaving.
Without him.
“Hey!” Holt yelled, running even harder.
“Hey!”
The gangplank that had been lowered to the ground arced back up to the top deck, and the ship groaned as its giant wheels began to slowly turn, crunching over the top of the rocky ground, gaining speed and momentum.
More plasma bolts burned the air. The stomping and trumpeting were almost on him. Along the river, two blue and white Raptors crashed in fireballs into their own ground forces, incinerating them where they stood. The Landship was his only ride out of this insanity.
He reached the ship just as it started rolling, running alongside it. He looked for anything he could grab on to—a window, a railing, anything—but the ship’s wooden hull had been polished smooth. There was nothing to grip at all.
“Holt!” a voice cried down, and he looked up and saw Mira as she tossed over a mass of rope and wooden planks. When it extended, he saw what it really was. A rope ladder. Holt didn’t waste any time—he grabbed on, found purchase with his feet, and pulled.
It wasn’t a graceful process—he slid along the ground precariously, spitting rock and dirt behind him—but he finally managed to scramble onto the ladder enough to get his feet off the racing ground.
Above him, he saw the captain and some of his men grip the ladder’s ropes to start pulling it up. Behind, Max barked desperately, chased by the four tripods that were closing the distance fast.
Holt whistled three short notes, and the dog hit the afterburners, galloping after Holt with all the energy he had left. The ship was gaining more speed: he had only one shot at this. Holt gripped the ladder with one hand, and then reached out for Max with the other.
The dog leapt forward with the last of his strength, the tripods closing in …
… and Holt scooped him into his arms, held him against his chest tightly.
The dog didn’t seem very grateful—he squirmed and kicked, and it was all Holt could do to hold him with his one arm. “Max!” he shouted in annoyance.
Above, he heard yells as more of the ship’s crew grabbed his ladder and started pulling. The ground dropped away under him … and just in time, too.
The tripods finally caught him, but it was too late: he was out of reach now. Holt saw one was painted differently from the others, its markings the same colors yet individual. Bolder. More striking. He stared into its eye, and to Holt, it felt like the machine was glaring up at him with a burning, electric hatred.
This was the second time Holt had beaten it. It didn’t seem to sit well with the machine … or with whatever was controlling it.
Plasma fire erupted from the tripods, and Holt flinched as hands yanked him onto the deck right as it seared past his head.
“The Max!” he heard Zoey shout from somewhere, and the dog squirmed out of his grip and rushed to the little girl. Holt frowned. Max had a real problem with gratitude.
Holt stood up … and was instantly wrapped in a crushing embrace. Lithe arms hugged him, and he felt Mira press into his chest. “Holt…,” she said, and the emotion in her voice was plain to hear. She had been worried; he could feel it in her embrace. Slowly, hesitantly, Holt put his arms around her, too, and hugged her back.
Holt put a lot of energy into resisting caring about others. So much so that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone care for
him.
It was … not at all unpleasant.
Mira pulled away from him, blushing, looking up into his eyes. Holt looked back, and he could feel the beginnings of a smile form on his face.
“See?” Zoey said from his left. “Holt always comes back.”
Holt looked down to the little girl. “That’s right, kiddo,” he said, smiling for real now. “I always—”
A stream of plasma bolts sliced the air, and Holt felt one rip hard into his left side. The impact sent him spinning crazily in a haze of pain and fog, and he slammed onto the deck of the Landship, then lay unmoving.
He heard Mira scream above him, felt her lunge on top of him protectively, saw the rest of the Landship crew hit the deck and take cover.
In slow motion almost, as his vision receded and darkness pressed in, he looked behind them. In the distance, explosions flared along the river as the last of the red Spiders fell in sparks and flames into the water. On the ground below, the small green and orange tripods pursued angrily, but they were being left behind as the huge ship gathered speed. Their plasma cannon fired, sending bolts streaming after the ship, and Holt stared back at the differently marked walker again. Even over the distance between them, he could feel its gaze on him, just like before, hungry and full of malice and dark intent.
And then everything went completely black, and the world flashed away.
PART TWO
MIDNIGHT CITY
28.
SOMETHING
IN HIS SLOW, PAINFUL RETURN TO CONSCIOUSNESS,
Holt glimpsed the world through strange vignettes of imagery that came and went and were punctuated with blackness. As unpleasant as they were, he preferred the waking moments to the unconsciousness, if only because in that confused, detached blend of sights and sounds, he wasn’t dreaming. The dreams had become more vivid than ever. He knew where they were leading him … and he didn’t want to go there.
As the blackness receded, he pushed the fog and the haze away. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the brightness of the world. He was in a small room made completely of polished wood. The ceiling was rounded and smooth, everything blending seamlessly together, and the bed he was on seemed to have been built out from the wall. There was a wooden chest at the other end, and a small stained glass window—maybe from an old church—allowed colorful streams of light to float in the air.
And he noticed something else, too. The room rocked occasionally, shaking and jarring. It felt like the whole thing was moving.…
“Hey, Hawkins,” said a voice he recognized. “Thanks for joining us.”
Holt looked to his left and saw Mira sitting on the floor next to his bed, watching him. He wondered how long she’d been there. The idea of her protectively looking over him was both pleasing and discomforting.
“Where are we?” he asked, slowly sitting up. He regretted the movement almost instantly. His head swam and there was a burning pain along his left ribs. Now that he was moving, he could feel the sticky restraint of fresh bandages around it. Someone had treated an injury, and with the realization came the memory of the plasma bolts and the world spinning as he crashed down.
“Might want to take it slow, killer,” Mira said, noticing his pain. “You took a nasty hit. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” Her voice was laced with a hint of concern. “You’ve been out a good twenty hours. We’re on the
Wind Shear,
” Mira continued. “It’s taking us to Midnight City. Zoey’s up with Max on the deck.”
“The Landship from the trading depot?” Holt asked, remembering he had been running for it when the green and oranges had appeared. The rest of his memories were hazy at best. It explained the rocking motion of the room. “You got their … whatever it is fixed?”
Mira smiled. “The Chinook, yeah. They traded for a bad Focuser at the depot. I had another one, helped them rebuild it.”
Holt cradled his head, letting the pain and the dizziness pass. And then something occurred to him. Something bad. “Midnight City,” Holt sighed.
“Yeah,” Mira replied. “I know it’s the opposite direction you were hoping to go, but I figured you’d prefer that to being left behind.”
He looked up at her. “Guess you’ll do anything to keep me around, huh?”
Mira smiled. “It’s possible you’re flattering yourself right now.”
Holt looked away, thinking. It meant a longer trip for him, and more chances of running into Menagerie along the way. But there was nothing he could do to change it now; he’d just have to figure it out. He closed his eyes again. It was all coming back, and with the return of his memories, he realized just how lucky they’d been.
So did Mira. “Those Hunters were almost on us,” she said, “and the others were blowing each other to bits. I’ve never seen that much plasma fire in one place.” She looked at him pointedly. “Something happened with Zoey. Didn’t it?”
Holt looked at her as he thought back to the trading depot. He still wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but he told her what he’d seen. The shouts from the tent, Zoey alone with the two older kids, the reaction when the others saw their clear eyes, their insistence that Zoey had “cured” them of the Tone.
Mira looked at Holt with all the shock he expected. “Do you …
believe
that? Did that
happen
?”
“If it did, I didn’t see it,” Holt answered. “But judging by the reaction of those traders, I’d say it was real. They’d have torn Zoey apart to get at her, I know that much. It’s just one more reason I’m starting to wonder how safe it is keeping her around.”
Mira stared at him, aghast.
“I’m not saying she’d hurt us,” Holt continued, “but you saw that battle back there—it was full-scale war. And all for a
little girl
? She’s dangerous. The second she … did whatever the hell she did, three different groups of Assembly dropped out of the sky, Mira.”
She studied him. “Holt, have you thought that maybe the reason the Assembly wants Zoey … is because they’re afraid of her?”
“She’s eight years old.”
“If what you’re saying’s true, she can
stop
the Tone, Holt.”
“So what?” he said, annoyed. “What are we gonna do, line everyone up who’s left alive and have her lay hands on them? A million survivors all across the world?”
“It’s
something
,” Mira said. “Everything starts from something.”
“No, it’s
nothing,
” he answered. “It’s ludicrous.”
“I think Zoey is special,” Mira said with conviction. “And I trust her.”
“She’s incredibly special, there’s no doubt, but I don’t blindly trust anything,” Holt said. “I don’t believe in faith, I don’t believe in magic. I believe in myself and what I see with my eyes. You can’t just start believing for the sake of believing. Mira, it’s dangerous. It has to be about survival.”
“I think that’s a load of crap,” Mira said, holding his gaze. “I don’t think this has anything to do with survival. I think it has to do with
fear.
”
Holt just stared back at her, feeling a nervous energy growing inside him.