Authors: Nick James
“As I told you in the infirmary, you’ll be arriving at the Academy on Visitation Day. You’ll need to be presentable, without a government seal in sight.”
Cassius frowned as he looked over at the pistol, picturing situations that would force him to use it. “You’re sure this is a good idea? You’re sure I won’t get caught?”
“My methods don’t fail,” she replied. “If you get caught, it will be through fault of your own. But we’ve trained you well, Cassius. I’m not worried.”
“But what if—”
“Fire?” She interrupted, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the medication is for. Listen. Don’t concern yourself with what ifs. It’s a hole you won’t be able to dig yourself out from. We’ll discuss your journey from Atlas to the Academy in detail, as many times as it takes for you to feel comfortable. And if you are still nervous, let it be a lesson. You disobeyed me, Cassius. Stole a shuttle and went outside the Net. Actions have consequences.” She grabbed the pistol and stuffed it inside of the bag.
Cassius struggled to think of a response. An apology would feel pointless and insincere. Madame seemed more resolute and hardened than usual, as if she was on a race to defuse a time bomb before it exploded. No time to hold hands or take baby steps.
One thing he could be certain of: this mission was starting to feel more and more like punishment.
8
A detonation ball whizzes past my shoulder, missing me by a fraction of an inch. I hurl my body behind a crumbling brick wall and slow my frantic breathing. An eerie quiet falls over the battlefield. Then several detonations puncture the stillness. Someone swears. It’s nobody on my team, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe.
Nine a.m.
I’m not sleeping. I’m not eating breakfast, either. No, I’m up to my ankles in sweat and frustration. It’s Bunker Ball time. Mr. Wilson said he wanted to see how some of us Year Nines worked as a team. I’m convinced he just wants to punish me.
The joys of Bunker Ball should be reserved for convicted felons. Instead, the teachers gleefully strap up two teams of teenagers with detonator pellets and set us against each other. It’s a full-blown war zone without the casualties, unless loss of dignity counts as a casualty. It’s all good for Mr. Wilson, though. He gives us the whole war experience without the danger.
“Fisher!” Wilson’s voice reverberates through the speakers in the ceiling. “Move your butt!”
I groan. He’s perched up on the balcony, watching our every move. Worse yet, he’s pitted us against Year Sevens. Thirteen-year-olds. And it’s a testament to our supreme suckability that we’re still losing.
One of the Year Sevens slumps over to the bench at the border of the training field. We’re finally even.
Manjeet and Paulina, two kids in my year, sit beside him. I’m happy not to be the first one out today, but those two are pretty much super-geniuses, so it’s not like they’ve gotta be good at this combat stuff. Besides, I’m only alive because I’m a good hider. The whole “battlefield” of sand dunes, brick walls, and bushy trees they’ve constructed is supposed to make things more challenging. I just use it to hide. I’m not completely without my merits.
I pass behind a massive boulder, drawing my arms inward to become less of a target. The training landscape changes each time we’re in here. Sometimes it’s a dense f
orest, other days a demolished cityscape. Today it’s something in between. I think they were going for a desert theme, but there’s also random walls and trees and stuff. Kind of impractical. I’m not exactly sure what this is supposed to be teaching us.
Skandar rushes past me, grabbing my arm and half-yanking me to the ground before I regain my balance and run alongside him.
“Wilson told you to move, mate,” he says through labored breaths. “Gotta get your head in the game.”
Before I can respond, he climbs up onto a sand dune, gives a mass ridiculous battle cry, and chucks a detonator at Asha Mutombo. She dives out of the way. The detonator sails past her shoulder, landing somewhere in the sand.
“Frag it.” Skandar frowns before retreating behind the dune.
I unhook one of the seven remaining detonators from my belt and cradle it in my hand, wondering if I should go after someone or just let myself get hit. Only the fear of pain stops me from surrendering altogether. The plastic feels cold in my hand. I roll the thing along my fingers, a wicked, silver baseball of death.
“Hey, Fisher.” Skandar breaks from his mad pursuit. “Mind if I borrow one of your detonators? I’ve only got two left.”
“Knock yourself out.” I toss him mine and pull another from my belt.
“I saw that, boys!” Wilson’s voice rains down on us.
Skandar cups his hand around his mouth and shouts up to the balcony. “It’s teamwork, sir!”
Wilson doesn’t respond. We’re each supposed to register a certain amount of “kills” today. Skandar’s good at this sort of thing. I’m the one who needs the practice.
“Follow me,” Skandar whispers as we sneak around the dune.
“Where’s Eva?” I whisper back.
“On the other side of the field. Asha and Chan are somewhere in the middle. If we all sneak up and surround them, it’ll be three against two.”
“What about Alexis?
“To hell with Alexis.” He leads us farther around the dune, out toward the open. “She’s no threat to us.”
I’m about to argue when a detonation nearly deafens me. For a second, I’m convinced that I’ve been hit. But there’s no pain. I glance over at Skandar. The expression on his face says it all.
“What the hell?” He spins around. “Who hit me?”
I turn to see Alexis White standing behind us, a Cheshire Cat grin on her face. The smallest girl in their year and she managed to knock Skandar Harris out of the game.
“Jesse, don’t just stand there! Hit her!” Skandar shouts.
I hurry up and throw the detonator. It strikes Alexis’s right leg just above the knee. Her face winces with pain as the shell explodes, but it’s not enough to completely wipe away her smile.
“It was worth it,” she says.
“You cheated,” Skandar mutters.
Alexis shakes her head. “It’s not my fault you two were having a little tea party back here. Watch your backs next time.”
Skandar holds up his last detonator to hit her again, but remembers the rules and stops himself before doing anything stupid.
And with that, it’s Eva and me. And I don’t even know where she is. Some teamwork.
“Rush them from the sides,” Skandar whispers in my ear before pacing off the field in disgust.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead and hold down the button on my earpiece. “Eva? Where are you?”
Her voice comes in all fuzzy. “South end of the field, Fisher. What’s up?”
“Skandar just got hit.”
“Skandar? You mean you’re the last boy standing?”
“Trust me,” I say, “I’m as shocked as you are. We got Alexis, though.”
“That leaves Asha and Chan.”
“Skandar said we should rush them from the sides.”
“Where are you?”
“Um … ” I look up at the ceiling, hoping to judge my position from the light fixtures and the familiar water stain at the northwest corner. I spot it almost instantly. “Northeast, I think.”
“Fine,” she says. “Move inward slowly. Keep your head up and if you see anything move don’t hesitate to attack. You can’t hesitate, Jesse.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes. Like I haven’t heard that tired line about a million times.
Then, it’s on.
I shuffle forward, careful to keep behind boulders and walls whenever possible. The silence is unb
earable. Someone could jump out at any moment. My gaze darts around, scanning the landscape for signs of movement.
Suddenly I’m into it, like I really want to win this thing. Seeing Skandar get taken out, I realize that being the weak link might have its advantages. People forget about me, undere
stimate me.
I venture farther out, keeping an eye on the horizon. A detonator explodes somewhere in front of me, rumbling the walls. It’s impossible to tell if it was a hit or a miss. I pray it’s not Eva.
Then she answers my prayers. “I got Asha,” her voice comes over my earpiece. “Now it’s just little Chan, all by himself.
Move in for the kill, Fisher.”
I stifle a laugh. She takes this crap so seriously. Then again, maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I don’t take it seriously enough.
Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s two against one. Forgetting that these are thirteen-year-olds, it still makes me feel pretty accomplished. It’s a power position. Finally.
“I’m moving,” I mumble into the earpiece, gripping the detonator.
“If he knows he’s the last one, he might try something crazy,” Eva says. “So don’t hesitate.”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. You’re like a broken record, you know th
at?”
“Jus
t trying to save your butt, Fisher. Again.”
I grab a second detonator, just in case. If I get the chance, I’ll throw the whole blasted belt at the kid. Even with bad aim, at least
one’s bound to hit.
I crawl around a steep dune and look to the far wall of the training facility. Eva’s head rises from behind another dune, a dark dot in the distance. I look down at the small valley in between us. Chan stands in the center, looking frantically around.
For a moment I feel bad for the kid, up against two Year Nines with belts full of detonators. It must be pretty scary. Then I remember what Captain Alkine always says. No mercy for the enemy. I can’t empathize with the kid. I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do.
So I attack, lunging forward and throwing one detonator after another. They explode well in front of Chan, shooting puffs of sand up from the ground. Mass embarrassing.
Then, two things happen at once. Eva hurls a detonator with laser precision behind the kid and I know it’ll hit him square in the back. Unaware of his impending doom, Chan chucks a detonator at me. I try to dart out of the way but it’s too quick. I shouldn’t have been watching Eva.
The detonator barrels straight for my chest and explodes. I have just enough time to see Chan knocked out of the game before I collapse to the ground and stay there, unmoving.
––––
Swirls of green mist cloud around me. At first I’m convinced that Mr. Wilson has changed the training program. But as I stumble to my feet, I realize that I’m not in the training room at all. I’m not even in a Skyship.
My chest throbs. Whether it’s from the detonator or something else I can’t tell. I’m not sure I’m awake—or conscious.
A broken city stretches around me. Charred skeletons of skyscrapers disappear into the mist. Empty streets give way to derelict buildings, their windows blown out. Piles of brick litter the ground. There are no people, no cars even. Only the thick, green mist.
I quickly realize that I’m on the Surface, but it’s not the same as Syracuse. There’s a coarseness to the air. Each passing breeze grates on my skin. The temperature’s mild. Cold, even.
I stand alone, as if a giant hand wiped everything away around me. I stagger forward, dizzy. The mist fogs out every detail except for jagged shadows of the buildings. I give into panic for a moment, unsure of how to find my way out.
Then I hear a noise to the right of me, coming from a nearby alleyway. Whispering. Voices.
Eager to find help, I follow it. Even if this is just a dream, I know I don’t want to be here.
My fingers cut through the mist and I stumble forward to see who’s there, but the persistent fo
g bars my way.
The voices fade. I stop in the middle of the intersection and look down at my chest. A silver key rests on my white shirt.
And then, a shadow.
Something behind me. Someone.
I start to cough as the mist pours down my throat. My legs feel numb, as if they haven’t been used in years. My head drops. Dead weight. Then the world becomes a blur and all I can see is green.
––––
I wake with a start, lying in a pile of sand in the middle of the training field. My body feels like it’s just been stuck in an electric socket, but it’s my chest that’s the worst. A carefully aimed detonator will do that.
Mr. Wilson kneels at my side. I must’ve been out long enough for him to come down from the balcony. “Jeez, Fisher.” He shakes his head. “It was only a detonator. You’ve gotta toughen up a little.”
Skandar and Eva stand off to the side, staring down at me. The Year Sevens are nowhere to be seen, thank god. Suddenly, the humiliation of the whole situation dawns on me and I bury my face in my hands and fight back tears, which makes the whole thing even more embarrassing. If this had been a real combat mission, I’d probably have been left for dead.
Mr. Wilson pats my shoulder, the first sympathetic move he’s made today, and turns to the others. “I want you all in homeroom for debriefing in twenty minutes.” He strolls off, leaving the firing squad to assess their fallen comrade.
“Great job, mate.” Skandar barely contains his chuckle.
Paulina Sterner pushes him. “He lasted longer than you, didn’t he?”
Skandar grunts. “Dumb luck, that’s all.”
I fold into a fetal position.
Eva crosses her arms. “I gotta hand it to you, Fisher. Even though you missed Chan completely, which is pretty pathetic considering the amount of detonators you threw at him, at least you showed some fighting spirit.”
Skandar reaches down to help me up but I push him away. I just wanna lie here. That way I can pretend this never happened. The fact that it feels like a truck’s just been driven into my chest doesn’t really give me the opportunity.
“Whatever.” Skandar withdraws his hand. “I’m gonna go hit the showers.” He waves goodbye. Paulina and Manjeet leave too, now that the spectacle’s over.
Eva lingers. “You just gonna lie there?”
“Go away,” I mutter into the sand. It’s better to give up, chalk it up to fate. Even when I
try
not to make a fool of myself, the universe still finds some way to kick me in the butt. Other kids would have family to comfort them, to go on and on about how mass special they were. I’ve got Eva, standing over me like a disappointed bodyguard.
“You know, you can’t keep doing this, acting like a baby when
things don’t go your way.” She waits for a response, but I don’t give her one. So with one final disapproving sigh, she walks away, leaving me alone in the middle of the empty batt
lefield.