Downburst (30 page)

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Authors: Katie Robison

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BOOK: Downburst

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Jeremy too—his strong embrace, teasing laugh. Gone forever. He didn’t just save me. He gave up his life for me.

More images now. They swarm my head.

Charity’s five dollars.

Aponi’s warm smile.

The dancers and painters.

The beautiful testing grounds.

All the people at the camp who were kind to me. Holly, Tornado, Damon, Lila.

No, Lila betrayed me! Rye too. I’m not going back.

But I betrayed them first.

I’m panting, my face drenched in sweat. It hurts to breathe.

I owe them. I owe their families. Those frightened faces in the caves.

My family.

I remember the acknowledgment in the woman’s eyes when I stopped the Rangi. The Yakone saying, “Thank you.” They forgave me. Accepted me.

My arms are trembling. My heart slams against my ribs.

They
are
my family. I can’t abandon them. I have to go back and make it right, prove I’m not a spy. I have to save them.

I have to.

No!

Tears flow down my cheeks.

I won’t survive.

I have to. Don’t think. Just go, just do it.

I take a deep, shaky breath. Slowly unclench my fists.

“It’s okay,” I choke. “It’s okay.” I breathe again, wipe the tears. And when I finally open myself to the wind, my mind is still.

The breeze enters my chest, soothes the pain. I let it fill every inch of my body.

But the current is moving away from the mountain.
This won’t work,
I tell the wind.
I have to go the other way.
I immerse myself more fully in the connection, send my mental fingers probing across the sky.

I need an eastward current,
I think, repeating it over and over.
Eastward.
And then I feel it, a new wind stream, right below me.

I run off the ledge and hurl myself at the surf before it’s gone.

The connection is instant, and I zoom forward, back toward the searing fireworks that twirl around the
Wakenunat
’s peak, driving myself with everything I’ve got.

When I’m almost there, the fireworks suddenly stop. No more gunshots. No explosions. No screams.

That can only mean one thing. The Rangi have pulled back. They’re going to detonate the bombs.

I don’t slow down when I reach the door to the gathering place, don’t jump off the wind.

I soar through the entrance.

The curving ramps whip me around. The current whishes me through the tunnels. It seems to know right where to go.

We plunge into the shaft. Over the edge.

Hurtle down the chasm.

Will it take me to the bomb?

I feel something in the back of my mind, an inkling, a suggestion. It’s as if someone inside of me is asking me to give the command, waiting to obey.

So I give it.

The wind rockets me forward.

I don’t have time to think through what’s happening. In seconds I’m going to crash into the bridge. I get ready to jump.

But the wind turns. We speed into the tunnel.

There’s the bomb. Bend over. Scoop it up. Its weight almost makes me fall. Hold on. Keep going.

Back up the shaft,
I try, half hoping. Pleading.

The current whips me around the tunnel. We shoot back out the way we came in. Skyrocket up the canyon walls.

I clutch the bomb. Keep going. Don’t let go.

Sector four.

Keep. Going.

Sector three.

Into the tunnel!
I give the command just in time.

The wind swings me around the bridge. We dive into the passageway.

To the sky.

We zip through the corridors. Left and right in the dark.

Suddenly, the blue stars come back on. A few moments later, I feel the current beneath me weaken, and then I realize what’s happening. The power’s back on.

The door!

If it closes, I’ll have no source of wind. I won’t get the bomb out in time.

Faster!
I scream in my head.
Go as fast as you can!

The breeze dwindles as I whip around the final bend.

Ahead, the door is closing.

Two feet of sky remain.

I roll on my side and hold the bomb in front of me.

My arms shake furiously. Veins pop out of my skin.

Kava, kava, kava, kava.

One foot of sky.

Go, go, go!

I speed through the opening.

My foot hits the door. I lose my balance. The bomb pulls me into a whirling nosedive.

Honga
!
I
grab the current.

Keep going.

And then the box starts blinking green.

I shriek at the wind.
Take us now!

We rip across the sky. Faster than I’ve ever gone in my entire life. The dark shapes of the mountain peaks race past me.

I thrust the bomb below me. Urge the gale to take us down.

We plummet into the ravine, my heart in my throat, the bomb just ahead of me.

Then I release my hold on the wind. Jump away from the current.

For a few long seconds, the downdraft continues to push the black box into the canyon. I see its blinking green light move further and further away.

And then it explodes.

Something explodes behind me too. The other bomb. The sky, the mountains, everything lights up in the blast of orange and red. The shockwave pounds the air. Rockets me backward.

I reach for the wind, but there’s no wind to find.

I flail my arms.

My body strikes something hard.

And it all goes away.

Shink, shink, shink.
The sound of scraping metal jars me from my dreamless sleep. That’s the first thing I know. The second thing is pain. A deep throbbing ache in my entire body, a splitting pressure on my bones. I can’t move.

Slowly, I open my eyes, and the third thing I know is beige polyester. I’m inside a tent, the light fabric peaking at multiple points along the walls and ceiling.

I’m lying on a pad, inside a sleeping bag, and bandages cover most of my body—I can feel the itchy cloth compressing my limbs and torso, my head. When I turn my neck, I discover a person sitting on the floor next to me.

He’s a large man, with black hair falling loosely around his shoulders, wearing a dark windbreaker and cargo pants. In his hand is a spear, which he’s sharpening with a metal rod. That explains the noise.

“Where am I?” I croak.

The man looks up. He grins, revealing a gap in his front teeth, and my blood freezes. His entire face is covered in coiling tattoos.

I try to sit up, but I can’t. I can’t even lift my arm.

The man laughs while I struggle uselessly. “Don’t try to move,” he suggests. “You’ve broken a leg and an arm, and your back’s not in great shape either.” He goes back to sharpening his spear.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I try to roll over, but a sharp pain shoots up my spine.

“Stupid blighter, I said don’t move!” He stands up and walks over to my side. “A bit dense, aren’t we … Kitara Awha?”

My throat constricts.
How does he know my name?
“What do you want?” I wheeze.

“We thought you were dead, you know, when we found you. You were a bloody mess.”

“I don’t understand—why didn’t you kill me? Why am I here?”

The man laughs again and points to my chest. “The only reason you’re still alive,” he says.

I crane my neck forward, but all I see are more bandages and brown bloodstains on my gray shirt. My pendant is somehow still hanging around my neck, the bottom corner of it chipped off, broken like the rest of me. But there’s nothing else.

I look back at the man, the question on my tongue, and he chuckles and removes his windbreaker. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I get a view of his bare skin, his tight muscles. A black tattoo spirals across his chest.

It takes me only a moment to recognize the pattern of swirling lines, a design I’ve seen everyday for as long as I can remember. The very design that’s hanging around my neck.

“No!” I push myself up. Excruciating pain rages through my arm, my body, my brain, shrouding everything in a scarlet haze. And as the man’s distorted face floats toward me, I tumble back into darkness.