Downburst (26 page)

I wake up surrounded by pale blue light. I stare at the ceiling until the rectangular lamp above me comes gradually into focus and I remember who I am. Slowly turning my head to the right, I see a long line of cots stretched out beside me, the mattresses wrapped in white sheets that reflect the glowing blue from above. Two of the beds have occupants, but most of them are empty.

The walls are strange. Black. Uneven. Like they’re made of stone. As I reach out my hand to test them with my fingers, I feel a tug on my skin. There’s an IV in my arm. I look down at the clear plastic tube pumping liquid into my veins, and then I know the rest. We made it. We’re in the
Wakenunat
. I look back at the stone walls.
Rye wasn’t delirious after all.
The
Wakenunat
is inside a mountain.

Rye!
Where is he? Is he alive?
I sit up, and a lightning bolt zips across my forehead. Gritting my teeth, I suck in my breath and press my temple with my fingers. When I can see again, I discover that my injured arm has been dressed in clean cloth, and a new sling is tied around my shoulders. My fingers are bandaged too, as is the burn on my face.

My clothes are gone—tattered jacket, shredded shirt and khakis, mud-caked shoes and socks, everything. Now I’m wearing soft gray pants and a matching gray shirt. I reach for my collar and feel the familiar shape of my necklace underneath the thick fabric.
Good, it’s still there.
I look down at my wrist. I still have the Quil too, tucked underneath the bandage on my arm.

Turning my head, I reexamine the bunks on my right, the ones that were being used. One of the occupants is a small girl. The other is an elderly man. I look to my left. There are more bunks on this side, but they’re all empty.
Where is Rye?

In the center of the room, a woman dressed in gray sits at a table, sifting through papers.

“Hello?” I call. My voice comes out in a whisper, and I try again. “Hello?”

This time, the woman looks up. She pushes her chair back, walks toward me.

“Lie back down,” she says, pressing my shoulders.

“Where’s Rye?” I ask. “Is he okay?”

“It’s important that you get your rest.”

“Tell me where he is!”

She sighs. “Lie down. I’ll be right back.” She checks the IV then walks past the cots to an opening on the other side of the room.

I stare at the drip while I wait, at the slow stream of fluids entering my body.
What’s taking her so long?

Finally, she returns. Alone. She walks back to the table and sits down again, picks up her papers, says nothing to me.

I want to scream, but I know my voice won’t be able to achieve the volume I require. Besides, I don’t want to risk antagonizing her. She might never tell me what I want to know. So I make myself lie still, watch the liquid drip through the tube.

The soft thud of rubber soles on stone makes me look up, and my breath catches. “Rye,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he says, crouching next to me and taking my hand. “Are you okay?” A bandage is wrapped around his brow, but the color of his face looks good, and his black eye has faded to yellow. He’s also wearing the soft gray clothes.

“Am I
okay? What about you? The last time I saw you, you were passed out in the snow.”

“And you were right there with me.”

I cough. “How did they find us anyway?”

“There are security cameras and sensors on the outside of the mountain. I just had to attract their attention.”

“When you threw that rock, I thought you had lost your mind.”

“Me? Never.” He smiles. “And now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep and gotten some fluids in my body, I feel brand new. But you’ve slept for another whole day and night.”

“I have? Again?”

“Yeah. You must be a really heavy sleeper.”

That’s what Lila told me.
“Have you—do you know if any of the others made it, from the camp?”

His face darkens. “A few of them, but not very many. Most of the ones who did were counselors.”

I nod, my throat tight. “Is your family here?”

“Yes, all but my dad. He’s out with the chief. They’ve gone dark, so we haven’t been able to contact them. No one’s Quils are working either. My mom told me the Rangi hacked into our communications system, probably at the camp. They were using the Quils to track people, kill them, so the chief shut the system down. That’s why the tribe couldn’t find us, even though they sent out search parties.”

“How did they learn about the attack?”

“The
Matoa
and
Riki
always attend the last day of the testing. When they showed up, well, you can imagine.”

If Rye’s family is here, Aura’s might be too.

“Rye,” I ask hesitantly. “Is Aur—is my family here?”

“No,” he answers. “Not yet. Soon, I’m sure. Don’t worry.”

I feel my muscles relax. I’m safe, for now, but I don’t have much time. They could show up at any moment.
I’ve got to tell him the truth. Before it’s too late.

I open my mouth, but instead of confessing I hear myself ask, “Do you think they’ll let me get up?”

“I don’t know. You were in pretty bad shape.”

“I feel fine now.”

“I’ll talk to the doc,” Rye says, “though I can’t promise she’ll go for it.” Getting up, he walks over to the woman in gray. He says something to her, and they both return to my cot.

“I hear you want out of bed,” the doctor says.

“Yeah. I feel much better.”

“I’ll tell you what. Stay here for another two hours, and show me that you can eat some food. If you’re still feeling fine then, I’ll release you.”

“All right.”
Two hours, and then I’ll tell him.

Rye stays with me as I eat some toast and chicken broth. I have to force my mouth to open at first—I can only take small sips of the broth, and I let the toast sit on my tongue until it dissolves—but soon I start to feel hungry, and I eat everything on my tray. When I’m done, Rye sets the tray on the floor, and I lean back into the pillows, enjoying the warm fullness in my stomach, ignoring for a moment what’s to come.

“You almost cracked my skull back open, you know,” Rye says, running his thumb over my fingers and grinning at me.

“That’s what you get for not eating your fish,” I retort, but I squeeze his hand.

He laughs. “I should let you sleep a little more.”

“No, don’t leave me,” I beg when he stands up.
We only have two hours.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Despite all my protests, he leaves. And despite my best intentions, I fall back asleep.

Rye wakes me by kissing my forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m good,” I yawn. “Will the doctor let me go?”

“I think so.” He waves to the woman in gray, and she comes over and takes my temperature, listens to my heartbeat, feels my forehead. Then she removes the IV.

“Don’t over do it,” she warns, giving me some painkillers. “You have to take it easy on that arm, or it could start bleeding again.”

“Sure thing.” I swallow the pills. Then Rye helps me stand up. I’m a little wobbly on my feet at first, but by the time we’ve walked across the room, the dizziness has passed and I feel better than I have in weeks.

Now. I have to tell him now.

We reach the doorway. A large animal skin is draped across the threshold. Rye pushes the skin aside, and we exit the cavern. For a split-second, we’re standing in darkness, but Rye takes a step forward, and suddenly, the ceiling and walls directly around us are covered in thousands of tiny blue lights.

We’re in a tunnel. The miniscule bulbs switch on in a wave until the entire passageway is covered in stars.

“Remember this?” Rye asks.

“No … ” I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, floating in space.

“LEDs,” Rye says, pointing to the lights.

We walk through the corridor, and the bulbs continue to turn on, lighting up the passageway ahead of us. Then we round a bend, and the lights reveal other openings in the walls, also covered by rugs and animal skins.

“What’s in the rooms?” I ask.

“See for yourself.” We stop at the closest rug, and Rye raps on the wall then pushes back the woven fabric.

It’s another cave. But instead of the LED stars, it has one central lighting panel on the ceiling—like the one over my cot. And it’s filled with bunk beds. A group of children is playing with two gray and white Huskie puppies in the center of the chamber, and sitting in a chair off to the side, watching them, is a woman with long white hair gathered in a braid.

“Hi, Sarah,” Rye says.

The woman looks up. “Rye, my sweet boy! You’ve brought your friend.”

She stands up and, with surprising alacrity, crosses the floor toward us, enveloping Rye in her arms, kissing his cheek. Then, before I know it’s coming, she’s wrapped her arms around me as well. She smells like lavender, and her hands are warm and soft. “I hope you’re feeling better,” she says.

“I am,” I stammer. “Thank you.”

The children who were playing on the floor suddenly surround Rye, pulling on his shirt and begging him to wrestle with them, while the dogs wiggle their tails and bound back and forth. Rye chases the kids around for a few minutes, tickling them whenever he catches them. They shriek with laughter, and the puppies yap. Finally, they all plop to the ground, breathing heavily.

“Would you like something to eat?” Sarah asks. “Your mother just sent me some grapes from the greenhouse. And we have bread and dried beef.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” Rye pants. “But I’m fine.” He looks at me. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” I say. “Thanks.”

One of the children, a girl who looks like she’s four or five, speaks up. “I want some bread, Auntie Sarah. With honey!”

“Me too!” the other children cry.

“All right,” Sarah laughs. “Now I’ve done it. Line up, and I’ll give you your snack.”

“We’ve got to go,” Rye says, standing up and pecking the old woman on the cheek. “But I’ll see you again soon.”

“Okay, dear.” She tries to say goodbye to me, but the children are all over her now, dogs yelping again, and she turns to give them her full attention.

As we leave the room and return to the tunnel, Rye looks at me. “That’s my mom’s aunt,” he says. “She’s like my grandma.”

“She was nice.”
Nothing like Grandma Mildred.

The stars light up again as we walk down the corridor, and when we come to a fork, Rye takes the path on the right.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

I scan the hallways anxiously as we pass more rugs over doorways and hear more voices inside rooms—children mostly, pets too. The tunnel branches again, and we turn left this time. I try to keep track of the turns, but this place is a maze. Even though the air is cool, damp spots are showing on my gray shirt.
Tell him!

“So—”

“Every family has its own room,” Rye says at the same time. “Oh, sorry. Go ahead.”

“No, it’s fine. You first.”

“The rooms are called
rukamos.
Most of them are in sectors four and five. There are some in sector three too.”

“Sectors?”

“Yeah. Each sector designates a level of the mountain. There are five total. We’re in sector four right now. Sector one is the
rukanaga
, the council chamber. It’s at the top of the mountain. Sector two is the
rukamura
, the war hangar—where we have the control center and store the weapons and equipment. It also has the biggest doors, so large numbers of people can come and go at once.”

“Rye.”

But he’s talking too quickly to hear me. “Our
rukanu
is in sector three. That’s the gathering place, where we have our celebrations and the final Challenge battle. The generator and our storage rooms are in sector five—and the greenhouse. The greenhouse is awesome. It’s covered in glass so it looks like a glacier in the winter.” He pauses and looks at me. “Is any of this sparking your memory?”