My brain freezes to the point that I barely take in the fact that Xander is still with me, also clinging to roots, his cheeks puffed out and eyes wide. We are a good five feet under the surface, with a healthy current of murky water flowing over us, dressed in dark clothes and making a point to look like a couple of rotting trees.
Above the water, however, the bright sunlight allows me to see three Nahx appear on the riverbank over the outcrop. Damn it, that was stupid. I should have let us drift downstream a bit. We are hiding in the river directly under the spot where we rolled off the bank.
Beside me, Xander twitches. My lungs feel like they’re going to pop like two balloons. The Nahx up on the bank show no sign of leaving. We could let go and drift away, but the Nahx might notice the movement despite the murkiness of the water. I need to breathe. I need to breathe. My vision starts to turn black at the edges.
Above us, the Nahx move back and disappear from view. Xander and I shoot to the surface and gasp in gulps of air, still clinging to the roots and pressed into the river edge. Stars twinkle in my eyes, and my teeth start to chatter. Shaking my wet hair from my face, I see something, a smudge of shadow on the opposite shore. Xander sees it too. We both spin our heads around.
“Oh fuck,” Xander says wetly.
Instinctively, I pull him behind me, pressing him into the weeds.
A single Nahx stands on the bank, looking at us, its dart rifle hanging at its side. It tilts its head for a second, then reaches down for its rifle. I don’t waste time.
“Let go!” I yell. Xander obeys, and together we are sucked out into the river, sailing downstream with the rushing current. I struggle to keep my head above water, expecting the Nahx on the far shore to start running, chasing us down the river, but it just watches, rifle still raised, as we tumble away.
EIGHTH
I never considered that the next human I saw would be a girl. I don’t know why that made me hesitate.
When I stepped out from the trees, I had a clear shot to where she clung to the river’s edge. I could have darted her, I think. But it seemed a shame. She was so brave, the way she pulled that other human down, and she succeeded where I failed. She protected her Offside.
I think I admired her too much to fire my rifle.
Admiration. I don’t even have a sign for that. I would make one up but . . .
The soldier on the other shore sees me and signals for me to wait. Lost, I sign, and one of them nods and signs.
Wait there.
They are higher ranked than me, or even Sixth, I think. The one who nodded to me might even be a First. They are so regimented and controlled. Nothing fazes or distracts them. Sixth would have stomped in frustration about losing the humans in the river, but these ones just turn and march back over the ridge. Sixth would have blamed me and called me stupid, shoved me away and refused to talk to me for days.
I wait, the fingers on my left hand seeking something to hold on to. I wonder whether I shouldn’t slip back into the trees, go up higher, and disconnect again. I don’t trust these high ranks. I know what they think of me. What happens if they find out I’m defective?
But how would they know? We are not decorated in any way. We all look the same, especially in our armor. It is behavior that indicates rank. The higher ranks think all the Eighths are defective, and the Ninths and Tenths even worse. Even I’m scared of the Elevenths and Twelfths. Mostly, they disappear and are never seen again. But if I can manage to act like a higher rank, then what’s to stop me going with these ones? I can watch them and do exactly as they do. I can be regimented and controlled like them, not become entranced with green things, or distracted by the smell of baby wolves or spiderwebs.
I can’t be a First, because I’m a boy and the male Firsts are all still on the ships. I can’t expect to be as perfect as a Second—a Second would never get lost, for starters—but maybe I could make a convincing Fourth. Then I would be higher ranked than she was. Sixth would like me as a Fourth. If she’s not dead.
My fingers reach, reach, and find nothing there.
One of the transports takes to the sky and skims over the water to collect me. I would tremble if I could. My apprehension makes me forget the girl in the river for the moment. I think of Sixth instead, and reach for her.
RAVEN
When Xander pulls me out of the river, I am so cold my limbs feel like seal flippers. We are both battered from rocks and other debris crashing over us as the river twisted and turned. Xander finally managed to haul us toward the shore and drag himself up into the tangled rocks and roots. I clung to his legs as he gathered his strength to tug me up after him.
He lets me fall in a heap on the shore and collapses down beside me. We lie like two dying fish, gulping and gasping for breath. Soon we are both shivering. With the lateness of the day and the season there is little hope of warming ourselves up without a fire.
“I don’t s-s-s-suppose you have m-m-m-matches,” I stutter.
Xander snorts, and coughs up river water.
So no hope at all, then.
“We have to get back to the others.”
Xander looks at his divers’ watch. “We have about two hours. We should run.” He clambers to his feet and, offering me a hand, tugs me upright. “Shall we race?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “I’ll even give you a head start.”
I show him my middle finger.
If there’s a feeling as desperate as running in wet clothes and sloshing boots along a muddy riverbank with the threat of being killed by a hostile alien around every corner, I don’t know what it is. Running, with no food in your belly, a half-frozen brain, clumps of river-drenched corkscrew curls slapping you in the face, and a lukewarm commitment to actually not lying down and letting a bear find you and eat you. With no hope of ever reaching anywhere good. It’s hard to muster up enthusiasm for a run like that.
After twenty minutes of straining to keep up with Xander’s long-legged, loping pace, tears are streaming down my face. Barely slowing down, I turn to the side and vomit about eight cups of river water onto the roots of a sick-looking sapling. Xander stops and looks back at me as I stagger on.
“Break?”
I shake my head, wiping my mouth on my damp sleeve. I’ve done longer runs than this, though I’ve never enjoyed any of them. I’m not one of those girls who run for hours every day in the hopes of being skinny enough to fit into some sexy dress. I hate dresses anyway, and I never wanted to be as skinny as I am right now. Ten weeks of rationing food has moved all of us down in the weight categories.
I have no concept of how long we’ve been moving, when I begin to feel almost warm again. When sweat drips into my eyes, it is a reprieve. We reach the burnt forest just as the sun dips below the valley ridge. We pause there, making sure the way is clear.