Chapter 6.1: Sacrifice
Dead Boy awakens with a groan of agony, his entire body a symphony of pain.
His face is pressed against the cold, pebbly lakebed next to the metal dome. The blue light still filters out of the crack in the ground, but when he scoots over to peer inside, he finds the chasm closed up by hundreds of icy spikes running across it.
The blade of his red axe is just barely visible peeking over the edge of the “bottom side” of the chasm, but there’s no clear way to reach it. He tries snaking his arm down between the spikes, then kicking at the ice to break it, but it’s impossible. There are just too many spikes, the ice is too thick, and he’s too weak. The crack between the two worlds is effectively sealed up, and his axe is a goner.
He’s probably a goner too, he realizes. His entire body feels weak and broken. Best not to think about it. He collapses by the edge of the chasm and lets his mind wander off as he gazes at the way the blue light illuminates one side of his hand while leaving the other side in shadow. His head throbs. He feels like he could close his eyes and sleep at the bottom of this lake for days on end, but knows it’s probably not the smartest idea.
He hears footsteps echoing throughout the wide lakebowl: his pursuers are slowly descending into the valley. The fog is giving them an easier time than it did for me, Dead Boy thinks with a wry smile.
Not the fog … the alien.
He briefly considers getting back to his feet and running again, but with a shake of his head he permanently puts that notion to rest. No, there will be no more running. And without his axe, no more fighting either. He’s not even sure if he could run or fight if he even tried; he took quite the beating when that alien grabbed him and he’s still not even sure what his injuries are, is afraid to look.
He wonders what they’ll do when they find him here. Kill him? Torture him? Feed him to that giant ice monster? To the alien? Worse? A full-body shudder of horror runs across his flesh, but he forces himself to stay here, refusing to flee from his fate any longer. What’s done is done, and he has no choice but acceptance.
And who knows? Maybe they’ll take him into their camp or something. Maybe he’ll find out what happened to Jamar. Maybe he’ll be able to escape later on, or act like a double agent and sabotage their operations from within. It’s kind of exciting, when you think about it.
I just hope they don’t kill me. That would be … anti-climactic.
Or rather, kind of the epitome of a climax, now that he thinks of it. But not quite the ending he’d hoped to get. He knew the risks he was taking on when he agreed to become a runner, knew the dangers he was signing up for. But he always expected to at least go down fighting, not lying helplessly on the bottom of Lake bloody Merced.
If they wanted to kill me, Katana would have finished me off back at the house, he tries to tell himself. She was toying with me. Playing cat and mouse.
More footsteps echo down toward him. Slow, stealthy, stalking.
I’m so tired of being the mouse.
“Hey! Come and get me!” he calls out as loudly as he can muster. He coughs up a mouthful of blood and spit.
“I’m waiting! What’s taking you guys so long?!”
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Garden is only permitted one hour to pack up her belongings and say her goodbyes before she is to be escorted out of the community forever. For Raz, it’s the longest hour of his life.
Standing next to Carlita outside Garden’s family-run shop, he feels guilty for taking this so personally. After all, Garden and Carlita are best friends, but Raz is much closer to Dead Boy. He glances at Carlita, who looks absolutely heartbroken, and slips an arm around her shoulder, although more to comfort himself than to console her.
He wonders how Dead Boy will react to the news of his sister’s expulsion. He’ll probably just disappear into the fog forever next time he goes out, Raz thinks miserably. And I’ll lose all my friends.
“What’s taking her so long?” Carlita complains, her voice wavering on the verge of tears. She’s obviously just thinking out loud—they both know Garden is saying her goodbyes to her mother right now. Raz doesn’t answer, and Carlita just looks away to drop the subject for the fifth time.
Raz’s mind keeps replaying the last two days like a recurring nightmare that won’t let up. He should’ve guessed Garden also has a weird psychic ability from the way she wanted to be left alone in the fog yesterday … but at the time, he was completely preoccupied with wanting to get out of the fog before his own freaky mind-connection kicked in. Why am I always so blind around girls, he thinks. Even Carlita knew about Garden’s problem before all this went down.
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If he’d known, he wouldn’t have delivered his damning proclamation in the meeting today. Burger’s testimony probably would’ve been enough to get Garden kicked out, granted, but Raz’s explanation had made it look like Garden was already completely mind-controlled. It made her look dangerous, and now the Committee wants her as far away as possible.
Or dead.
The thought makes Raz break out in a cold sweat. Would the Committee stoop to such a level as to execute Garden on the sly? He has to admit that it is a possibility if they think her being mind-controleld is a threat.
Mind control… It makes him wonder: Are Garden and I both under the influence of the fog somehow? Does this mean I’m dangerous, too? Am I … going to turn into one of those brainwashed deadheads that raided the NBAZ last night?
He’d heard the term at the meeting this morning—someone had referred to the attackers as ‘deadheads’ and the term stuck. It seems appropriate, even if they have no idea how far gone in the head their aggressors actually were.
Maybe the deadheads really are dead. And maybe Garden and I will be next.
He shudders uncontrollably and Carlita presses closer against him. He vaguely remembers Carlita saying she’s also been feeling off these past few months. Is the fog taking her over, too? Are all three of us turning into deadheads, damned to go fog crazy and die out in the cold? Or be taken out to an alleyway and dealt with by NBAZ enforcers?
Fear creeps along his flesh, stands his armhairs on end and makes him want to run and hide, but the guilt twisting in his gut keeps him rooted to the spot. It’s not right that Garden is alone in all of this. He knows he could’ve spoken up for her at the Council meeting. He could’ve let everybody know that he’s also had strange experiences similar to Garden’s. Hell, he should’ve said that’s how he’d figured out the reasoning behind the attacks, instead of making up a lame excuse. That could have changed the Committee’s decision, made them understand that this is something happening to more people than just Garden.
He could’ve defended her, but he didn’t. He’d kept his mouth shut, leaving Garden feeling like she’s utterly alone in the world. And now she soon will be.
I have to say something, he concludes. I will, as soon as Garden returns. I can’t keep something this big bottled up forever, despite the danger.
Presently, Soda walks down the hallway toward them, accompanied by five helmeted guards armed with rifles that are certainly loaded. Their heavy-booted footfalls echo down the otherwise empty corridor. Soda’s grim face makes it plain as day that he wishes he were anywhere else but here.
Three of the guards enter the General Store, while the remaining two take up posts on either side of the door. Their eyes are hard and cold as they stare grimly at the three teens.
Soda grabs Raz by the elbow and tugs him down the hallway, leaving Carlita standing by the door. Why doesn’t she come with us? Raz wonders as he distractedly looks back at Carlita — she’s caught in the guards’ glare like a moth before a flame.
Halfway down the hallway, Soda places a hand on Raz’s shoulder and pulls him in close. “We’ve got a plan,” Soda hisses in Raz’s ear. “Garden’s gonna be fine. Just don’t let Carlita do anything stupid.”
“A plan? Who is we?” Raz whispers back, suddenly paying attention. The pit of guilt softens slightly in his gut as a spark of new hope lights up.
“Explain later,” Soda whispers in a barely audible voice. Then, louder so the guards can hear too, he announces, “I’ll be out on a run for at least a few days. Gotta catch up with Dead Boy again after I drop Garden off at another community around Twin Peaks way.”
Raz nods and says simply, “Be careful,” but he’s looking intensely into his friend’s eyes to convey the gravitas of the matter and the real meaning behind his words. If you really mean this, if you’re really going to save Garden, you’ve got one shot. Don’t mess it up.
And then the door is opening, and Garden’s being escorted out of the store by three armed guards, her furious mother trailing behind hurling threats at the rearmost guard’s armored back. Garden’s own face is curiously dry—she hadn’t cried a single tear, but instead seems dejectedly resigned to her fate.
Carlita rushes in screaming something intelligible, an explosion of senseless emotion flurrying toward Garden and her captors. She is stopped short by a guard roughly pinning her against the wall with a sideways-thrust rifle.
Raz breaks a cold sweat as he runs to Carlita’s side—he could swear the temperature just plunged in this hallway, he’s positively freezing now—and he starts offering calm assurances to the guard as he slides his arm around Carlita’s shoulder again, trying to draw her away.
Sunshine is creating a similar commotion on the other side of the door. Three guards are aggresively shoving Garden down the hall toward the stairwell, with two guards bringing up the rear with their rifles barring any further access to their prisoner.
Raz knows that if he’s ever going to say anything about his own psychic connection to the fog—if he’s ever going to admit that Garden’s not alone in all of this—that the only chance he’ll ever have is right now. But he’s not taking it.
It’s all happening so quickly! I wasn’t ready for any of this! His mind is racing, absent of the conviction that he had held so firmly before.
I’m sorry, Garden, he thinks at her. You’re in Soda’s hands now.
“I’m sorry,” Garden calls out as she turns to look back at her mother and Carlita one last time. Raz is sure she catches his eye briefly, too. “I’m so sorry for all of this! Goodbye!”
Soda bows his head and opens the door to the stairs, waving Garden through.
Carlita is seething with rage within Raz’s clutched arms, but he holds her back, breathing hotly in her ear, “Don’t worry, ‘Lita. We’ll see her again. I promise you, we will.”
And just like that, Garden is gone.
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