The Invasion of the Tearling

“I can. But I can’t hold you up. You need to walk.”


Lily let him pull her to her feet, though pins and needles awoke roaring in her feet and calves. She stumbled along, Jonathan’s arm tucked behind her shoulders. To her left, she heard a gagging rattle, the sound of someone choking. She could see shadows now, bright beams of flashlights in the darkness. The choking intensified, becoming a loud gargling sound that made Lily wince, and then it ceased.

“We have to go!” a voice squealed, so high and panicky that Lily couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. “They’re bringing the secondary backups online! The power’s already on in Building C!”

“Keep your pants on,” a woman drawled, and Lily swung toward the voice, though all she could see was another bright blue shadow.

“Dorian?”

“Come on, Mrs. M.” Jonathan took her arm, pulling her along. “Gotta move, time is short.”

Is it September first? But there was no time for her to ask. They hustled her out the door—Lily skinned her elbow on the busted frame on the way out, but said nothing—and down the hallway, which was still dark. Lily blinked continuously, trying to force her sight back. Scattered light arced across the hall—flashlights—and Jonathan’s hand urged her to go faster. Lily heard pounding on the doors as they passed; people were still trapped in there, behind magnetic locks, and now Lily understood Jonathan’s urgency. All Security facilities were supposed to have several sources of emergency power in case of a failure; Dorian and Jonathan must have sabotaged more than one, but they had not killed them all. Beneath her feet, buried deep in the stone, Lily felt intermittent thumps as someone tried to bring the building back online.

A figure stepped into the flashlight beams, some ten feet in front of them, and Lily halted, recognizing a Security uniform. The man was big and rangy-looking, and he held up a huge black machine rifle, one that could fire either bullets or darts; Greg used something very similar whenever he went deer hunting with his cronies in Vermont.

“Where are you going with her?”

Behind Lily, someone snarled, a soft sound that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

“She’s being transferred to Washington.”

Lily knew that voice: it was the accountant’s assistant, the bald man who had spent most of the night with his hand on the console. He was on Jonathan’s other side, still in his uniform, but when Lily screwed up her eyes to focus, she saw that his face was a grotesque white mask of panic. She was beyond surprise now, beyond reaction; the presence of the assistant merely registered, poking the bubble of her mind with a soft finger, then retreating.

“On whose orders?”

“Special orders from Major Langer.” But the assistant’s voice was unsteady, and the guard wasn’t buying it, even Lily could tell. Dimly, outside the glow of their flashlights, she spotted someone moving down the hallway wall, a sliding shadow in the darkness.

“Where is Langer?”

“He’s writing his report.” The assistant licked his lips, and Lily heard the dry rasp of his tongue. “I’m supposed to take her outside to the car.”

“Who are these others?”

The shape on the wall launched itself onto the guard, knocking him to the ground. The gun chattered as the guard went down, bullets pinging off the walls and floors. Jonathan’s arm dropped away from Lily’s back, and she heard the thud of his body hitting the ground. Jonathan’s flashlight had fallen to the concrete, and in the dim light she saw William Tear, his knee planted in the guard’s stomach, both thumbs jammed into the man’s eyes. Lily grabbed the discarded flashlight and shone it around until she found Jonathan’s feet. The guard screamed, making her jump, and the light jigged crazily around the hallway. For a moment Lily was back in her nightmares, in that other hallway with its endless doors.

“Shine it up.” Dorian grabbed the flashlight from her, focusing it on Jonathan’s stomach. “Ah, damn.”

A narrow trench of blood, sparkling almost black, stained Jonathan’s shirt just above his belt buckle. Lily’s vision crystallized, the warm bubble around her mind evaporating.

“Help me pick him up.”

Lily wrapped an arm around Jonathan’s waist and helped Dorian haul him from the floor. Ahead, in the darkness, the guard’s screams ended suddenly, a strangled sound that cut off in a grunt.

“Move!” William Tear shouted.

“Jonathan needs a doctor,” Dorian panted. “Gutshot.”

“There’s no time. Parker’s people will already be started.”

“I’m fine,” Jonathan wheezed, his breath whistling against Lily’s neck.

“Come on, South Carolina.” Dorian hauled him forward and Lily followed suit, trying not to jostle him.