Downburst (27 page)

I clear my throat. “Rye, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Just then we turn a final corner, and the tunnel opens onto a steel bridge decked in LEDs. I take a step back. The bridge spans a huge chasm, and as I look over the edge at the dark ravine below me, I see more bulbs strung down the sides of the cliff. A loud humming echoes through the canyon.

“That’s the cistern that holds our water,” Rye says. “The water comes from an aquifer. It flows from the cistern and spins the turbines on the generator, providing electricity too. Neat, huh?”

“Is the generator making that noise?”

“Nope. The fans are doing that.”

“Fans?”

“I’ll show you.” He leads me across the smooth, glowing bridge. The noise gets louder as we move into the center of the gorge, and it’s hard to hear anything. Rye points down.

As I look over the edge, I tighten my grip on his hand. At the bottom of the chasm, a giant glowing circle hovers somewhere above the water, and now I can feel the air whipping past my face, lifting up my hair.

“There’s one above us too,” he yells. “It’s how we move from one level to the next.”

I look up. As far as I can tell, the shaft continues all the way to the top of the mountain. Directly overhead, another bridge stretches across the canyon. Connecting our bridge to that are two steel staircases, also lit up and circling the shaft like a double helix.

“Do people use the stairs?” I ask. He answers, but I can’t hear him. “What?”

“Emergencies,” he shouts.

I gape at the starry ravine, the moving air, the twisting staircases, the sleek bridges, the tunnels that lead to more tunnels and to cavern after cavern after cavern.

“Are you ready?” Rye asks.

His voice jolts me back. “For what?” I stammer.

“To go up.”

I shake my head. “I need to tell you something first.”

“What?”

“I need to tell you something!”

“Hard to hear. Wait.” He points to the air, and I nod reluctantly. Then we jump off the bridge into the rising current.

As we rocket past the bridge above us, I see people on the other side of the chasm going down, using the wind created by the fan at the top of the shaft. The LEDs whirl past as the updraft shoots us toward the peak. We go through a large hole in the ceiling and land on another bridge.

There are no tunnels on this level. All sides of the shaft have been hollowed out so that the stone floor, much smaller in diameter than the base of the mountain, fully circles the chasm. The opened walls, lined with huge lighting panels, create an enormous chamber—and it’s full of people.

I stare at the windwalkers. They’re wearing gray jumpsuits that bulge around their chests, probably covering bullet-proof vests, and embroidered on their backs are large red eagles. The warriors are running around the cavern, stacking automatic rifles and machine guns. And not just that: portable missiles and grenade launchers too.

A thick slab of glass covers the space above our heads, and I can see the feet of the people standing on top of it. Two stone staircases extend on either side of the bridge to openings in the glass ceiling. Rye directs me toward one of them.

“We’re going up?” my voice cracks. I wipe my wet palm on my pants.

“Let’s go,” Rye says. He takes my hand again, pulling me toward the steps.

“Rye, wait,” I plead, but he doesn’t hear me.

I look back down at the people in gray, the missiles, the deep chasm we’ve left behind. The whole scene warps, and I trip on the step. Rye helps me back up. I try again to get his attention, but my tongue is stiff and dry, and I can’t form the words.

We emerge through the holes in the floor, and for a moment I’m reminded of the testing grounds, taking that first step into the
wakenu
. The rock walls are reinforced with steel, and a large table with the Yakone flag stands in the middle of the room.

But Naira doesn’t sit behind the table. A man does. A man with long black hair and a stone amulet around his neck. And instead of the huge windows in the dining hall, there’s the glass floor that opens to a view of the mountain’s interior. I can see all the way down the shaft, the LEDs directing my eyes to the dark spot that marks the cistern.

There are other people in the room too. Half a dozen men, a few women—all of them in the gray jumpsuits. My heart stumbles when I see the automatics in their hands.

A man with chocolate brown hair is leaning over the desk, talking to the man with the amulet. He goes pale when he sees us.

“Rye?” he whispers.

“Dad!” They look at each other, and then Rye’s father moves forward and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“You’re safe,” the man breathes. “I was so … ” He coughs. “Does your mother know?”

“Yes.”

“We only just got here. I haven’t talked to her yet.” Rye’s father holds him firmly for a few more seconds before releasing him.

Rye takes a shaky step back and bows to the black-haired man behind the desk. He’s standing now, reaching out his arm.

“
Tanaka
,
Riki
,” Rye says, recovering, clasping the man’s hand then pounding his fist on his chest. “Your timing is perfect. I have some good news.” He turns to look at me. “I’ve brought you your daughter.”

Everyone’s eyes lock on me as I back away slowly, their bodies listing toward the center of the room. I try to keep my balance, but my mind whirls.
No. No! Did he really just say that I am—that Aura is … ? Kava, kava, kava.

For a brief moment, the chief’s eyes light up, and he moves quickly toward me. Then he slows down. When he’s three feet away, he stops, stares at me. Frowns. Shakes his head.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I, um.” I continue backing toward the stairs.

In a flash, he’s crossed the distance between us and wrapped his iron fingers around my right bicep. “I said who are you?” His brow darkens into a deep burgundy.

“My name is Kit,” I squeak.

“What?” Rye says from behind us.

I can’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“But … you had Aura’s I.D.,” Rye says slowly.

“Did you kill my daughter?” the
Riki
thunders. His grip tightens, and the people around me level their guns.

“No,” I gasp. “I didn’t. It was the Rangi. I saw them do it.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I—I wanted her I.D,” I stutter. “Not her real one. There was a fake one. That’s what I wanted. Because my fingerprints were on it, and we looked the same. But then I was abducted and taken to the
maitanga
and—”

“What do you mean a fake one?” The chief shakes my arm.

“I sold it to her. So she could … so she could … ” My voice falters as I try to think of how to tell him.

But I don’t have to tell him. He knows what I’m trying to say, and his face blotches into a deeper purple. “Lies!” he roars.

“No, I can prove it. I have it.” I reach for my pockets. But I have no pockets. I have no jacket either. The license is gone. “My jacket,” I rasp. “It was in there. They took my clothes. Rye, did you see it?”

But he doesn’t answer me, doesn’t even shake his head. He stares at me with cold, clouded eyes.

“I know what you are,” the chief says icily. “You’re a Rangi spy. You slit my daughter’s throat and stole her identity, impersonated her, so you could inform your people of the location of the testing grounds. So you could murder them.”

“No,” I cry. “No, that’s not true at all. See, I knew you would think that, that’s why I couldn’t tell … This is all a mistake. I’m not even a windwalker!”

“I expected more from a Rangi. But your cover story is pathetic.” He throws me onto the floor. “Jared, Vivian,” he commands two of his guards, “take her to the prison block.” He spits at the ground near my hand.

A man and a woman, both carrying automatics, step forward and yank me to my feet. “Wait, please,” I beg, “I’m innocent!” They all ignore me. “Rye!” I plead, but he turns away.

My escorts haul me down the stairs and into the war hangar, their guns pressed against my back.

“This is a mistake,” I insist. “I can explain everything.”

“Shut up,” Vivian says as they walk me onto the bridge. Holding my arms, they shove me forward, and we ride the wind down, past sector three and then sector four. We leap off the current at the lowest bridge. Sector five.

Dizzily, I notice that this bridge isn’t made of steel like the others. It’s made of polished rock. In front of me I see thick, metal beams extending from either end of the bridge and rising up into the shaft above, as if they’re supporting the other walkways. I glance over the side and look down at the enormous reservoir, at the water lapping against the stone. But then Vivian pushes me forward, and I cry out as she hits my injured arm.

“What happened?” Jared yells, nodding at the sling.

“I was shot.”

“Who shot you?”

“A Rangi scout.”

“Who?”

“A Rangi!”

“Liar.” Vivian cuffs me over the head, and I glare at her as they force me the rest of the way across.

After we step off the bridge and enter the network of tunnels on the other side, the hallway slopes down, making me feel as if I’m squeezing through the earth’s intestines. I focus on breathing normally.

Eventually, the tunnel levels out again, and we enter a large chamber with holes in the floor. Each hole is covered by a grate.

The guards direct me toward one of the cells, and Jared pulls back the iron lattice. He grabs a rope ladder from a shelf in the wall then drops the ladder into the pit, securing the top end onto a metal hook in the floor.

“Climb down there,” Vivian says.

I stare at her. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“But my arm … ”

“Here,” Jared grunts. He lowers himself onto the ladder and leans back. “C’mon,” he gestures. “Swing your legs over.”

I do as he says. I have no other option, not with Vivian’s rifle jabbed under my ribs. Slowly, we descend into a deluge of moist air. It smells awful, like we’re right next to a sewer. When we reach the bottom, Jared lifts me onto the ground.

As he turns away, I catch a whiff of something that doesn’t smell like sewage, a scent I know.
Lemongrass
. I jerk my head back and look at his face. There’s something familiar about the curve of his jaw, the shape of his brow.

“Jeremy,” I breathe.

“What?” the guard asks.

“Nothing.” I look away.

“You called me Jeremy.” His tone is guarded. “That’s my brother’s name. Do you know him?”

“Yes.” My voice breaks. “I did.”

“You
did
. He’s dead then?”

I nod.

“How?”

“When the Rangi attacked the camp.”

“Did he die well?”

“He was protecting me.”

The silence is thick. “Hurry up, Jared,” Vivian calls from above.

He ignores her and moves his face closer to mine. “Did he think you were the chief’s daughter?” His throat is taut.

“I—I don’t know,” I falter. “I guess he did.”

He leans back. “Then he thought he was saving her. He died for nothing.”

I stagger back. Is it true? Is that why he did it? I press my fist against my forehead.

Jared swings himself onto the ladder. “I hope you rot in Hell,” he spits.

I rush forward and grab his foot. “I swear I didn’t know. I didn’t know who she was.”

“That won’t bring my brother back.” He kicks me away and keeps climbing. When he reaches the top, they pull the ladder up and replace the grille.
Then he and Vivian leave.

I crumple to the ground and curl into a ball, stab my fingernails into my palms.

This is worse than anything I imagined. I already knew Jeremy didn’t have to die, but I thought he helped me because he liked me, wanted to save
me
. But it’s not true. He was trying to protect the chief’s daughter. If I hadn’t deceived him, he never would have risked his life.

And he’s not the only person I endangered.

“Rye,” I whisper. I try to ignore the sharp pain in my chest, the way it’s moving up my throat. Try to forget the way he looked at me.

Rye thought I was Aura too. That’s why he wouldn’t leave me in the forest. Why he took care of me.
Is that why he kissed me?

I hate Aura Torres. I hate her. She’s ruined my life, buying her fake I.D., getting her throat slit. If she hadn’t been out drinking and partying, attracting the Rangi, she would have gone to the camp instead of me. And none of this would have happened. I never would have heard of windwalking or the Yakone or the Rangi. I never would have watched my friends die. Or killed a person. I wouldn’t be in a pit that smells like refuse. Wouldn’t be in so much pain.

I scrape my cheek against the rock.
What does he think of me now?
His face flashes in front of me, that look in his eyes, the jumble of confusion, shock, horror, disgust.
He hates me.

I would hate me too.

Why didn’t I tell him when I had the chance? My free hand slides toward my necklace, and I grip the bone pendant fiercely, pressing my thumb into its smooth curves, squeezing my eyelids shut. I don’t know how to cope with this throbbing in my chest, the pressure crushing my lungs. I wish I could feel the wind.

An hour passes, maybe four, before I hear someone enter the cavern and lift the grate above my head. It’s Vivian.

“The
Riki
has sentenced you to death,” she declares.

I stare at her, unable to speak. “But I’m innocent!” I finally splutter.

“You will be executed tonight when the sun has set,” she continues.

This can’t be real. “Listen to me,” I shout. “I didn’t kill her.”

“Beheaded, according to tradition.”

“No!”

Not that. Dear gods, please not that. I see the Shredder running the knife across his thumb, the Rangi plunging his blade into Aura’s throat, Holly mouthing
decortication
, the tomahawk flying in the eagle’s grasp, flying into the tree at the camp, flying from Rye’s hand into his enemy’s face. Into my face.

“Wait!” I gasp as Vivian turns to go. She pauses. “Do I get a final request?”

She says nothing. Just slams the grate and walks away.

I smack my fist on the rock then crouch down, tipping from my toes to my heels, toes to heels, numb all over.

They’re going to kill me. They’re really going to kill me.
Breathe
, I tell myself. I rock back and forth. I was prepared for almost anything but not this! Back and forth. They’re going to kill me.
Breathe.

I can’t breathe! Soon I’ll never breathe again.

I bury my face in my knees, squeeze my head, rap my fingers against cheekbone. Again and again. Force the tapping to get inside my brain. Drown out everything else.
Tap, tap, tap.

Sue and the twins will never know what happened to me. They’ll always think I abandoned them.

Tap, tap, tap.

Just like Rye will always think I betrayed him.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

I keep seeing his face, his cold, green eyes. His beautiful, horrified eyes.

Tap, tap.

I see the sharp edge of the axe. Hear the sound it will make when it …

Tap, tap, tap.

Don’t think.
Tap, tap.
Don’t think.
Tap.

Tap.

A grinding sound above shakes me from my trance. The grating is being moved again.
Is the day over already?
I stand up shakily.

The ladder falls into the pit, and a person climbs down. When she gets to the bottom, I make out her profile, the round face and curly hair.

“Lila?” I gape at her, take a step forward. “You’re alive!”

“So it is you.” Her stiff voice makes me stop short. Her body is stiff too. In the dim light, I pick out the shape of a knife strapped to her thigh.

I stare at the knife, at her clenched fists, and I step back. “Are
you
my executioner?” I ask, reaching for my neck. I had hoped for a bigger blade.

She shakes her head. “I wanted to see for myself. See if it was true.”

Neither of us speaks.

Lila breaks the silence first, her voice strained. “Did you do it, Kit? Did you kill her? Coordinate the attack on the camp?”

“No! Lila, you have to believe me.” And then I tell her about running away to Winnipeg, about meeting Aura, about Jeremy. But afterward she doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak.

Finally, she says, “The
Riki
thought his daughter was at the
maitanga
, so no one reported that she was missing, and the police couldn’t identify her body. They didn’t figure it out until about the time we were attacked at camp.”