He leads me forward a few steps, but we haven’t gone far when even I know something’s wrong. His hold on me is tense, his face void of all smugness.
Then the fog clears, just for a moment. Just long enough for us to see that the stretch of solid land ahead of us is empty, barren of everything but weeds and rocks and untouched mud. The far side of the island dips back down into the water, which stretches on, uninterrupted but for the occasional distant outcropping of bare rock.
We both stare, though I don’t know why. I didn’t believe him—I never believed him. And yet, standing on this empty stretch of island, my stomach sinking and ears ringing, I’m surprised. I jerk my arm away, stumbling backward with the effort. “Why did you bring me here?” I spit the words, fists clenched against the urge to strike out at him. “What was the point? Why not just dump me somewhere out there in the swamps?”
But he’s not looking at me. He’s still staring, though the curtain of fog has closed again and there’s nothing to be seen. “It was here,” he’s saying. “This is exactly the place. I don’t understand—it was right—”
“Stop!” My shout brings him up short, and he turns on his heel, blinking at me. “I want an answer. Why did you bring me here?”
“Jubilee,” he murmurs, one fist relaxing and reaching toward me, palm up. So charming, so open, like we’re friends. This guy oozes charisma from his pores—if he’d been born on a legitimate planet, he’d have been a politician. “I swear it was here. I’m not lying to you.”
“Your promises don’t mean much to me, Romeo,” I snap.
“They can’t have left without a trace,” he says, clearing his throat and striding past me. “There was an entire facility here—fences, buildings, crates, aircraft. Help me look, there’s got to be a sign. Footprints, foundations, anything.”
While his eyes scan the mud, searching for his so-called signs, it gives me a chance to scan his features. He’s frustrated. More than frustrated—he’s scared. Confused. He really believes there was something here.
I’ve got to humor him if I’ve got any hope of returning to the base alive.
It’s a large island, and Romeo drags me through the mist, along the edge of the vegetation. He’s too cautious to let me out of his sight, but I’m not stupid enough to make a bid for freedom here. One wrong step and it’ll be a long, slow sink beneath the surface, with plenty of time to think about what a pointless way that is to go.
Humor him. Play nice. Talk him into sending you back.
The after effects from that gas can are still with me, long after they should’ve dissipated. My mouth tastes oddly metallic, like blood, and my pulse rushes unnaturally loud in my ears. I take a deep breath and try to focus. I find myself longing for the stars, the openness of the sky you never see on Avon. The fog has closed in again, and it’s impossible to see more than a few yards ahead, leaving me suspended in a world of gray and white. I have to keep my eyes on the ground to keep my balance, because looking out through the fog tricks my eyes into thinking I’m floating.
Luckily, Romeo doesn’t seem to have noticed. Maybe he chalks my stumbling up to the fact that he keeps jerking me along by the wrist. We’ve covered about half the shoreline when Romeo halts and lets go of me, gazing around with confusion.
Abruptly, a light blossoms in front of my eyes. Pale green, swaying gently from side to side, it’s no more than a few inches across. It dances there for a moment and I freeze, and as Romeo turns to start moving again, I realize he doesn’t see it.
Then the world slides sideways.
My vision flickers, the taste of metal in my mouth growing overpowering. Suddenly I’m not seeing fog and mud and emptiness; I’m not even seeing the wisp. An entire building flashes into existence, and between it and me, a high chain-link fence. And just beyond it, a figure in black clothes and some kind of mask, staring expressionlessly through its visor at me.
I drop to my hands and knees, blinded, choking on metal and flinching as the impact jars the wound in my side. When I lift my head again the vision is gone, but my hand encounters a sharp object digging into my palm. My fingers close around it. All around me rises a quick, frenzied susurration, like the wind through grass, or aspen leaves quivering in a storm. But Avon has no grass, and Avon has no aspen trees.
Everything goes black, and then the whispering is gone as abruptly as it started. Suddenly I hear Romeo shouting at me, his voice urgent. I open my eyes to find his face close to mine, gripping me by the shoulder.
“What’s going on? Get up!” He’s drawn his gun; he thinks I’m faking.
“Don’t know.” I slide the thing I found into my boot with a shaking hand. I can’t stop to examine it now; whatever it is, it’s regular, plastic, man-made. There’s no reason this would turn up here on its own.