A flash of green and a loud bleep nearly stop my heart mid-pump. I stare at the locator pulsing in my hand as if it’s some strange artifact. Then it sinks in. I found it. I found my beacon.
I dare to stare at the face of my lifeline to Cole and Digory, a burly, middle-aged man covered in pustules who gazes at me through yellow-tinged eyes. He’s wearing the gray uniform of a miner, with the name Martino stitched into the breast pocket.
“It’s going to be okay, Martino,” I lie to him through a forced smile.
His mouth opens. “M-my … w-wife … ”
Dark green and brownish phlegm oozes from his mouth, choking off the rest of his words. My father’s face flashes before me, but I allow that mental tunnel to collapse and seal off that painful memory.
“C’mon, I have to get you outta here!” Gripping both his arms, I heave with what little strength I have left. Inch by inch, his huge frame slides from the tangled mass until he’s free and clear.
I wipe my brow and glance up to check Ophelia’s progress. Her glee has turned to pure venom. She tugs on the girl, her teeth clenched, her face burning like a vibrant sunset. She’s trembling from the effort. One of her feet is braced against some poor soul’s face for leverage. Suddenly, the body gives and the girl slides out to her waist. Ophelia lets out a sound that’s half sob, half laughter. Then she’s pulling again.
My knees wobble as I haul the heavy man to his feet. He must outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds. Something in my lower back pops. “Uuuunh!” Electricity sizzles every nerve-ending. I inhale deep. Placing one of Martino’s arms around my neck, I stagger against his weight, lumbering toward the safety zone.
In the distance, I can see someone waving.
Digory?
Not that much further to go. If I can just hold it together a little longer, I’ll make it through this round and Cole and Digory will be safe.
“Don’t worry,” I rasp to the miner. “We’re almost there.”
He grumbles a reply that consists more of hot drool trickling onto my neck. I should be disgusted, but for some reason I’m elated. I’m going to get through this. And maybe this poor guy’ll be able to rebuild some kind of life for himself after all this is done.
Despite the aches, the hammering in my chest, my starving lungs and dry mouth, I speed up.
Digory and Cypress are waiting. It’s hard to tell, with my hair obstructing one eye and the still-throbbing blurriness in the other, but I think that’s Gideon kneeling beside several figures lying prostrate on the ground.
“See?” I huff to my silent companion. “Just … a … little … further … ”
I get no response. For a moment I’m afraid he’s no longer with me, that I’m lugging around a mere shell of what was once a vital living being. My legs buckle from the dead weight. I stumble but somehow manage to stay on my feet, even though my pace slows to little more than a brisk walk.
Part of me is tempted to glance behind, check on Ophelia, but I don’t dare risk one more second of delay.
I’m almost there …
Just across the finish line, Digory’s eyes widen. I can’t tell what his finger’s pointing at.
A glint of light. I look down at a small metal disk camouflaged by weeds.
Digory’s hands cup the sides of his mouth. “Lucian! Look out for the-
BLAM!
twenty-four
Thousands of hot needles pierce my side. It’s as if a giant invisible hand has batted me aside, tossing me at least five feet backward. The miner is wrenched free from my hold, and my tailbone smacks into the dirt with a thud. Another jolt rips up my spine. When I try to stand, I can’t feel the difference between my right and left legs and I wobble, smacking back down on the hard earth. I try to brace myself with my right hand, but that same cross-wired sensation hits me and my left hand spasms instead. I topple over.
“Nerve scrambler!” Digory cries. “It’s jumbled your neural pathways!” His voice sounds like it’s coming from the bottom of a well. “The disorientation will pass in a few. Just breathe slowly. Focus on my voice … you can do this.”
My eyes feel like driftwood, bobbing further and further into an endless horizon. Maybe if I just rest for a few minutes …
“Lucian!” Digory’s voice echoes through the depths of my numbness, pulling me back up to the surface. “You need to hold it together. There isn’t much time.”
The urgency in his voice snaps me back. My eyes spring open. There’s only one reason his voice would be tinged with fear.
Willing my mixed-up nerves to obey, I take a deep breath and force my head to twist so I can see behind me.
Ophelia’s still a distance away. The poor survivor’s still wedged a little less than halfway into the debris. Even if she pulled the girl out right now, there’s no way Ophelia will be able to carry her and make it back before me.
But Ophelia’s given up on trying to pull the girl free. Instead, using one hand, she’s stretching out the wriggling girl’s arm, the one wearing the beacon.
In her other hand, Ophelia clutches a mangled piece of metal debris that glints in the harsh artificial light. Even from here, I can see its rusted, jagged edges.
Ophelia raises the hand that’s holding the makeshift tool high overhead-
“Help me! Please, help me!” the girl shrieks, over and over again until her cries are nothing but garbled noise that barely resembles anything human.
“Don’t stop, keep moving,” Digory urges.
But I can’t tear my eyes away.
Darkness eclipses the whites of Ophelia’s eyes. With a long, guttural wail, she plunges the makeshift blade across the girl’s forearm.
I wince.
The screams die out.
The girl’s lifeless body slumps over-all except for her right hand. Detached from the rest of her, the appendage is now a grisly stump, clutched by Ophelia and crying bloody tears onto the face of its former owner.
The blinking green of the beacon reflects off Ophelia’s eyes and teeth, the only parts of her not covered in gore.
Our eyes meet.
She glares for an instant. Then she’s dashing toward me, heading for the safety zone, waving the glistening shiv.
“C’mon, Martino! We gotta go!” Grabbing the miner, I pull us both to our feet and half-carry, half-drag him along.
“You got this, Lucian!” Digory’s voice is like a balm to my aching muscles and spirit.
Despite the hammering in my chest and the pain in my starving lungs, I lunge forward.
Digory’s holding his hand out just over the line and I reach for it-
Fire blasts into my leg. Digory’s eyes bug. Then his fingers, which were barely an inch in front of me, are suddenly moving away. A blurry wind grazes my side. Then I crash to the ground, letting go of the miner’s hands.
I feel dizzy, like I’m going to pass out. Was it another taser mine or neural scrambler, so close to the finish line?
My leg continues to burn. I have to get up before Ophelia-where is she? Is she still gaining? But there’s no one behind me.
The source of the fire is a chunk of metal lodged in my left thigh.
Ophelia gazes at me from the other side of the finish line. She’s giggling, dancing around triumphantly, taunting me with the amputated limb.
Digory shoves her aside. “What did you do to him?” he cries. He tries to step over the line but his locator flares bright yellow and his face contorts until he doubles over.
So they rigged the locators with pain inducers, for just such an attempt.
My heart thrashes my rib cage. I drop to my knees. I was so close.
And now Digory’s going to die because of me.
“Lucian!” he calls. But his voice sounds like it’s miles away instead of just a few feet. “How bad did she hurt you? Damn it! Answer me!”