The Forsaken (41 page)

Wisps of clouds shoot past, like tendrils of cigarette smoke. I don’t know how fast we’re going, but it’s faster than I’ve ever moved before in my life.

The plane judders. The video screen suddenly flares with static and then shifts its position. I realize the camera has randomly pivoted downward by about ninety degrees. Now I can see a verdant landmass directly below us.

“It’s the wheel,” I breathe.

I see it now, in all its harsh splendor. The island sprawls out below us as we zoom overhead, acres of trees flying past at breathtaking velocity. It looks so green and lush from up here. So tropical, and weirdly peaceful. We must have already passed over the gray zone. It’s hard to imagine there are so many friends and enemies still running around below us, fighting and killing one another over nothing.

I wonder if David managed to escape getting frozen, given his resourcefulness.
Maybe he’s still out there somewhere.
I hope that he is, and that somehow he’s okay.

It’s amazing to get this vantage point of the place where I’ve spent the last few weeks. From above, it doesn’t look scary and terrible. But Liam and I know the truth.

Even though I’m transfixed by the island view, I can’t wait to be over open water. Until then, I’ll keep thinking that a feeler is going to fly up from the wheel and battle our aircraft.

As we move faster and faster, the trees give way to white sand and blue-green ocean. The aircraft starts rising higher, the ocean’s choppy whitecaps dropping farther below us. I feel dizzy. We’re probably the first kids to make this journey awake.

I realize that our chances of finding help are slim. Wherever we’re headed, the people there intend to dissect our bodies. No doubt we’ll face more battles.

The video screen shifts to straight ahead again, seemingly of its own will, and now the camera just shows blue skies and clouds. I wonder if this plane is how we were taken to the island, while we were still unconscious after the ECT, but before the feelers dispersed us across its surface. Even now that I understand some of the island’s mechanics, the purpose of the wheel is still a mystery to me.

Liam and I continue to hold each other as the plane blasts its way through the air. There’s almost something comforting about the noise of this airplane, like being in a giant womb. Except for the part where we could crash and die at any second.

But we don’t crash. Instead we stand there watching the screen.

Liam finally turns to me. “I heard what you said earlier. In the pod, I mean.”

I start to blush.
So he heard me after all, but he didn’t say anything back.
I feel a little embarrassed. “I thought we were going to die. That’s why I said it.”

He takes my hand as I look up at him. “It’s okay. You know I feel the same way.” I hug him tightly. “Right before the feeler took me, at the very last instant, you were the only person I was thinking about. And then when I woke up, you were right there. The first face that I saw.” He kisses the top of my forehead. “I never thought I’d fall in love on the wheel.”

I shut my eyes. “Me neither.”

We hold each other for a long time.

It finally becomes clear we’re not going to be landing anytime soon. Yet neither of us wants to go back into the pod, because we don’t want to lose our connection to the outside world. I tell Liam everything that happened since he got taken: about Veidman, Sinxen, and the barrier, and the Monk being Minister Harka. Liam listens in sadness, horror, and amazement.

Eventually, we explore the entire aircraft and survey the other sealed pods, coming back to the aircraft’s view screen every few minutes to make sure everything looks okay. We’re unable to thaw the other occupants, even though we try all kinds of different methods. But what worked in the specimen archive doesn’t work here, and without Clara’s intervention, the occupants remain frozen.

We also search for any items we can use as weapons when we land, but the plane yields nothing that isn’t bolted or welded down.

“I think we’re losing altitude,” Liam finally calls over the engine noise.

I tilt my head to look at the monitor but still see only blue sky. I’m guessing we’ve been airborne for several hours. “We’re coming down?” I feel my gut clench up. I’m not ready.

“We’re moving hyperfast. We might have gone a couple thousand miles already. We’d better get back into the pod, so we’re safe when we land.” I can hear the tension in his voice.

I wish we could stay in the air forever. Suspended in the clouds, like a twinkling star, or like one of those butterflies from the island river, never having to face what’s in store for us. Never having to face the consequences for leaving the wheel.

The images on the video screen suddenly start sliding, and I realize the camera is moving again.

“Whoa!” I yell, not understanding what I’m seeing. Now we’re just staring at a rippling golden surface.

Liam leans forward, scrutinizing the image. “I think those are sand dunes.”

“What? We’re already over land?” I stare at the monitor, perplexed and scared.

The image starts to make more sense the farther we go, and I realize that, inexplicably, we’re flying over an unbroken stretch of desert. It’s unpopulated and completely sparse. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like the water just turned into sand underneath the aircraft without us noticing.

More desert unfurls, like an endless stretch of unrolled canvas. Somewhere in the distance is the horizon.

“Let’s go back now,” Liam says. We tentatively move down the center of the plane and find our pod.

I take one final glance back at the view screen. We’re so low now that I can see dust clouds rising up from the sand, like banks of fog.

My ears get stuffy for a second, and then they clear as we keep descending. Wherever we’re going, I sense that we’re almost there. Maybe just a few minutes away.

“There’s gotta be some kind of landing strip or runway around here,” I yell into Liam’s ear as we climb into the pod, curling up again and closing the pod door as best we can. “We’re their specimens! It doesn’t make sense for them to let us crash and die in a desert.”

The aircraft slows even more, like it’s coming in low. I clutch at Liam.

The roar of the engines becomes deafening again. The plane is going to touch down soon, whether there’s a runway around here or not.

“What happens when we land?” I ask Liam, refusing to acknowledge the fact that crashing seems far more likely. “Do we fight?”

“If we have to.”

I can barely hear him because of the noise. I curl up against him tighter. I try to get some air from the oxygen mask, but it doesn’t seem to be working anymore.

Then I hear a noise halfway between a thud and a pop, and we start to slow even more. “What was that?” I ask, panicked.

“Wing flaps, maybe?” Liam’s body tenses, preparing for whatever lies ahead. “Grab on to me hard.”

“I already am.”

“Harder. Keep your head down.”

I do as he says. He moves his arm around me, trying to protect me better.

“Alenna?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re going to crash.”

I nod and whisper, “I already know that.”

Maybe Clara is responsible, or maybe the pod finally sensed we weren’t frozen and the entire aircraft is doing some weird self-destruct thing.

I feel our altitude and speed decreasing. We can’t be far from the ground now. I wish I could see what was happening. We’re probably going to hit one of those sand dunes soon. I brace for the impact.

“Liam,” I say.

And then we hit.

The airplane smashes down against the sand with such force that I black out for a second, cracking my head against the plastic hull of the pod as my teeth snap together.

Then I’m conscious again, and the plane is sliding over the sand, out of control. Sparks shower onto us as hidden wires short out inside the pod’s shell. Liam is calling my name.

We hit the ground again and bounce hard. My head whips back and then forward. The plane is spinning and sliding as the engines scream. I smell acrid smoke as more sparks shower down on us. I can’t tell if we’re airborne again or still on the ground.

There’s a jolting thump as we hit something. Then another.
Must be a ridge of dunes.

I know we can’t withstand much more of this. The aircraft is going to tear itself to pieces and fling our pod out of it.
We’re going to die!

But we don’t die. That would be too easy.

We just keep bouncing and getting pounded. The padding on the interior of the pod is all that keeps me from hitting the hard siding. That and Liam’s protective body wrapped around mine.

The crash landing seems to go on forever, every second elongated into an hour. But it probably hasn’t been even a minute since we clipped the top of the first dune. Time slows down and everything moves at a crawl, like it did in the awful, unearthly barrier around the gray zone.

But eventually our journey comes to an abrupt end.

The plane careens sideways, losing power, like it’s slipping down one side of a dune. We just keep holding each other.

Bruised and battered, we finally come to a dead stop. I’ve lost all sense of direction inside the pod. I can’t tell what’s up or down. My whole body hurts. Even though I know we’re stationary, my balance is screwed up, and it feels like I’m still moving.

“We’re alive,” Liam says faintly. Then louder, as if to reassure both of us: “We’re still alive!”

We lie there for a moment, gasping. I still smell something burning. It could be fuel. I realize we need to get out of the pod and off this aircraft. Liam does too. He starts grappling with the door of the pod, but it’s broken now and doesn’t budge.

He starts kicking at it again, but there’s no room for him to get enough leverage. The frame doesn’t give way.

“We’re stuck,” I say.
In a pod, inside a crashed airplane that’s probably leaking fuel, in the middle of a desert.

Liam suddenly stops moving and grabs my hands. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Voices.”

I don’t hear anything other than the crackling of the cooling engines and the settling of the aircraft into sand.

I dare to whisper, “Should we—?”

But then I hear something else too. A faint swooshing sound, right outside. I hold my breath. The noises increase, sounding like rapid footsteps, as though people are already boarding the wrecked plane. Can that be possible? I put my lips against Liam’s ear. “I’m scared,” I whisper.

“Be strong,” he mouths back.

Then we hear a clank, and I flinch. It’s the sound of something metal hitting the base of our pod. Like someone’s trying to free our pod from the plane.

“What’s the plan?” I breathe into Liam’s ear.

“We’ve got the element of surprise,” he whispers back. “Whoever they are, they’ll think we’re frozen.” Both of us are as still as corpses. “Just stay behind me if the pod gets opened.”

“I’ll fight too,” I whisper.

“I know. I’m counting on it.”

The noises outside grow louder, but I still can’t make out any words. Another clank comes. Then another. I feel our pod start to move, like it’s being dragged out of the plane with us inside.

I grip Liam tighter.

I know that these people will probably open our pod soon. I can feel Liam flex his muscles. His body has become hard and taut, like the string of a bow. He is a warrior preparing for battle. I feel at one with him.

Our pod starts moving faster. We get slammed against the hull of the plane. I hear a clatter, and the world starts spinning as our pod begins to rotate. I realize we’re probably being rolled down a ramp, out of the aircraft and onto the sand.

The pod keeps moving. The motion goes on for several minutes, until we finally come to a sudden, brutal stop, as though we’ve hit a wall.

The jarring impact makes me cry out loudly.

I bite my lip.

But it’s too late.

I hear startled voices yelling. Footsteps running toward us.

Oh no—they heard me!

“It’s okay,” Liam whispers into my ear.

And then comes an awful wrenching sound, as the roof of our pod is torn back in one piece by a gigantic pair of metal shears.

The sun hits my eyes, blotting everything out in a blaze of white light. Except for the shadowy figures that loom over us with guns, screaming wildly.

DESTINY STATION

LIAM EXPLODES UPWARD WITH
surprising energy, clawing his way right out of our pod. He’s yelling, trying to scare these people.

But as my eyes adjust to the light, I see that they already look scared enough. “These kids are awake!” one of them yells, stumbling back from the opening.

I’m right behind Liam, staggering up and out. Our silver zone suits sparkle under the harsh glare of the desert sun. I flail, trying to clear my vision.

I realize that at least thirty adults are now amassing around our pod. We’re pressed right up against the edge of a dune. To our right, I see a mountainous, red-colored sandstone rock formation, the size of several city blocks, towering two hundred feet above the dunes. It has a flattened top, like a mesa, and it’s the only visible landmark, other than sand.