25
Time stands still in this glass-paneled room, deep inside Titan Hall. No one moves. Yul and I stand closest to the two suited creatures. Harper, Grayson, and Sabrina are behind us, still near the panels where they explored Titan history.
Up close, the suits appear to be made of small, overlapping tiles, like a reptile’s scales. They shine slightly, like milky glass, but I imagine they’re made of a polymer we haven’t invented yet. Every inch of the helmets is covered in these milky scales—no opening for eyes, mouth, or nose. The lack of any semblance of a face make these beings look even more alien.
There’s only one play here. I begin to reach for my handgun. I’ll get one shot—
“Don’t.”
The voice emanating from the suit is a computerized imitation of a human voice, neither male nor female, devoid of any intonation or hint of emotion. It makes my skin crawl. It continues before anyone can act. “We’re not here to harm you.”
“What are you here for?” I ask.
“To help you,” the voice answers.
“Is that why you brought our plane here?”
“Yes.”
And there it is: they did this. For the past five days, we’ve been like rats in their post-apocalyptic maze, struggling, scurrying, scratching to survive. Rage burns inside me. “Cut the shit. You brought us here to help yourselves.”
“You’re here to help both of us. We can’t talk here. You have to come with us right now.”
Too risky. Way too risky. “Take the suits off first.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not?” Why would they need suits, when we don’t? I’m not liking this.
“You have to trust us, Nick. We don’t have time to debate.”
It knows my name. And the voice . . . despite its computer camouflage, I know that voice. How? Who?
A low drone rumbles above us, growing louder. I glance up, trying to place it. My mouth goes dry. An airship, the same type that raided the crash site.
The figures disappear without moving, their camouflage activated. I hear only their echoing footsteps pounding the frosted glass floor. The neutral computerized voice, disembodied in the dark cavern, calls back to us. “Stay here.”
Grayson and I draw our guns. I glance around the group. Going by the look on their faces, not a single person favors staying here.
We charge out of the small room, through the first chamber where the Titan history lesson played, and out into the reception area. Through the cracked wooden double doors, I see flashes in the night, what look like targeted laser blasts. Some of the vegetation is already burning, sending thick black smoke into the air. That’s the cover we need.
I turn to the group, my eyes on Harper, clutching the two notebooks to her chest, and flash back to that day on the lake bank, when my eyes met hers as the plane was sinking, when we stood on the precipice together, ready to wade into the breach. A strange, almost intoxicating combination of fear and excitement, a feeling that I never knew existed until five nights ago, washes over me.
Through the crack in the wooden doors, I watch the symphony of light and destruction playing out in the overgrown park, like a laser light show in Central Park. Shots rain from the sky. Fire reaches up like a crowd responding. The darkness flows toward us as thick black tendrils of smoke curl around the building. Time slows down, and my senses intensify. I feel a preternatural focus come over me.
In slow motion, I watch Yul secure his bag. Sabrina stands still as a statue, gazing at the carnage outside. Fear clouds Grayson’s face as he glances between the gun in his hand and the battle outside. Harper pulls her shirt up and tucks the two skinny books against her abs, securing them at the bottom with her waistband. She nods at me once, silently saying, I’m ready.
I turn to the group, speaking quickly. “Follow my lead. Grayson, bring up the rear, and shoot anything that shimmers. If we’re separated, run away from the ships and make your way to . . .” I pause. I don’t like it, but there’s only one place I’m sure everyone knows. “To Harper’s flat. Wait twenty minutes for any others, then move on in case they find it.”
I push the door open. The focused firing from the two ships above slows as shots rise from cloaked figures below, the one-sided assault transforming into a back-and-forth. The quiet overgrown park is now a full-on jungle war zone. Several large fires burn hot and bright, converging on one another, their black smoke rising, blotting out the airships as smaller clouds cover Titan Hall. Through the smoke screen, I hear quick, pulsing blasts. Every few seconds an explosion blows a wall of force and smoke towards us.
I wade into the black cloud of smoke and break right. Behind us a bomb hits the structure, spraying us with fragments of stone and wood. I glance back, making sure no one is hit. I see only grimaces and determined looks.
The dense vegetation was a nuisance on the way in. Now it’s a current fighting our every move, trying to pull us in. A fallen tree lies at an angle, and I try to slip below it, but the brush is too thick, tangled into an organic mesh fence. I back out, climb, and tumble over, waiting for the others, helping them down. I bound forward over the next wall of green, limbs and thorny brush scratching my face and hands. Four ships are above us now, pounding each other at close range, none giving an inch.
Sabrina makes it over the web of fallen trees and vines, then Yul.
Behind us, I hear a scream through the smoke. Harper.
I jump and spin back over the vine-covered tree, rushing toward her.
She braces herself on a trunk, reaching for her abdomen. Her eyes meet mine for a second, then she spins around as another shot hits her. She disappears into the undergrowth, swallowed by the green ocean. Grayson is twenty feet behind her, and he turns, firing wildly into the woods. The smoke is clearing now as the battle shifts to the air.
One of Grayson’s shots connects. A shimmering figure, not ten feet from him, reels back into a tree. It flickers as it slides to the ground, falls forward, and lies there, a glittering hump of dull glass against the foliage.
“Harper!” I yell.
Grayson turns to me, and I’m about to call to him when a rapid barrage of fire fills the air, pressing down on us. It’s deafening, disorienting. I slip my gun in my jacket as trees bend and shatter all around me. A ship barrels down through the black cloud, nose first, right for me.
I turn, stagger to my left, fall, and push myself up, leaping across branches, climbing over everything in my path. The trees and brush cut my hands, arms, and face, but I push on, clawing for every inch. The ground booms, and the earth below me disappears. I’m thrown ten feet forward into a vine-covered tree. The ship is bulldozing the overgrown park, throwing dirt, plants, and bits of trees into the air.
There’s no use running anymore. I’m just one of the pieces of debris riding a wave of scorched earth. Just when I think it might stop, the ship explodes, launching me again into the air, much farther this time.
I land in a sharp, prickly bed of green, my head spinning. My hearing is gone. My limbs are numb. I sit up, but my head’s spinning. Have to get up. The fallen airship burns. Smoke fills the space from me to it. Harper. She’s right beside it. Fire will burn her. They will get her.
I blink. Can’t keep my eyes open. Have to.
Focus.
In the air above, the chorus of death and destruction still plays, silent now, flashes through the clouds of smoke, ships moving, semi-synchronized, lighting each other up.
I roll onto my stomach and push up, standing for a second, but I can’t control my body. It plummets back down to the ground as if a magnet’s pulling my midsection. I close my eyes, but the spinning gets worse.
A faint sensation. For a few seconds, I can’t place it.
Hands, gripping me, dragging me through the park.