Extinction (2 page)

“What about Alex, though?” Julian asked. “The Wanderer said...”

“Alex
cannot
be dead,” Samuel said.

Julian’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“It all depends on the interpretation of the Wanderer’s prophecy,” Samuel said. “The Wanderer said that Alex had to be there for the final battle. Therefore, he
has
to be there. I refuse to believe that he is dead.”

Julian didn’t know how to respond. Samuel’s belief was not based on logic – a rarity for someone so rational. Then again, his reason
did
have a certain logic to it. As Samuel said, it all depended on the interpretation.

“They have their course,” Samuel said. “We have ours.”

Something about Samuel’s words struck Julian.

“Wait.
Their
course?”

“If they made it...as I believe they have...then they are doing what they have to do. They must have made peace with the fact that they’ll never see civilization again.” Samuel turned to Julian. “Ragnarok Crater isn’t too far from the crash site. Maybe two hundred miles. It
can
be done.”

That
gave Julian pause. Could they really be trying to walk to Ragnarok Crater? To travel through the mountains and the Great Blight, without food and water, seemed impossible. Then again, maybe not. If Alex was alive, he could summon his dragon friend and be rescued. If that was the case, Alex would have found them by now. It had been three days, after all, and no sign of any dragon –
Elekai
or
Radaskim.

“I choose to believe because I
cannot
accept the alternative,” Samuel said. “If Alex is dead, then there is nothing more we can do. But until we see it with our own eyes...we fight.”

The two friends gazed into the silent valley. Julian could only wonder where Samuel found his hope. Perhaps he was still young enough to have it. Not that Julian was much older than Samuel’s twenty-three.

Twenty-five years I’ve lived,
Julian thought.
Would two more years make such a difference in my outlook on life?

Maybe hope
was
a choice. Julian wondered what it would be like to believe Alex was alive. That Anna and Ashton were both alive.

And suddenly, he realized that what he heard earlier made sense. It wasn’t just a dream.

“I
did
hear a spaceship.”

Samuel turned, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“At least, I
think
I did,” Julian said.

“Who would fly it?” Samuel asked. “If there was one, it came from Bunker Six.”

“And yet,
you
guys made it as far as Bunker One.” Julian looked at Samuel. “It’s not impossible, is it?”

“Yes, but what would that
mean?”
Samuel asked. “Who would be flying it?”

“I don’t know,” Julian said. “But if someone had a spaceship, where would they go?”

“Skyhome, perhaps.”

As if he had received some sort of answer, Samuel turned back for the Recon.

“Where are you going?” Julian asked.

“Makara can try contacting Skyhome,” Samuel said. “It’ll mean waiting until it’s overhead, but Skyhome can track the spaceship for us. If it exists, that is.”

Julian nodded. It seemed like a long shot. It would mean watching the night sky nonstop until they saw Skyhome streaking across, like a massively bright star. They could send out a message every few minutes. Hopefully, someone from Skyhome would answer.

If there was another spaceship, it would change everything. They could track it down and find out who was flying it. Maybe that ship had rescued Alex and the others – the escape pod would have given off a signal that could be tracked by any ship in the U.S. Space Fleet.

But if that was the case, would that ship have found the others? And if so, where were they going?

T
he dream faded and I awoke aboard the
Orion.
I had seen them alive, figuring things out. I had no idea
how
I’d seen them, but it seemed real enough. Julian had heard the ship and Samuel had thought it worth investigating.

However, if what Augustus said was true, it would be impossible to track the ship. Jonas Sparks had disabled the tracker installed on
Orion,
meaning it couldn’t be found. If
Orion
couldn’t be found, Julian would be proven wrong, and that would be the end of it. They would still head to Bunker 84.

Whatever the case, there wasn’t much we could do about our current situation. We had been locked in our cabins for three days. Of course, we had been disarmed. The Praetorians brought food and water three times a day, and gave us the option to use the lavatory thirty minutes after each mealtime, and before bed. The point was, we wouldn’t be getting out until Augustus said so. Our cabins were right next to each other, but I still hadn’t seen Ashton or Anna in three days. Any attempt to talk through the bulwarks was futile – not only could we not hear each other, the Praetorians
could
hear us from their posts in the corridor.

I was starting to go crazy. We had to wait until the ship landed to get out – wherever that might be. So far, Augustus had revealed nothing. I hadn’t even seen him since he’d locked me in here.

We made one landing in the middle of day two, but we just took right off again, heading somewhere different.

I checked my watch. It was 16:42. There were no ports in the cabins, and the lights had been shut off forty-two minutes ago. They would be turned on again in twelve hours.

I thought about the dream I’d had. I needed to share it with Ashton and Anna, but unfortunately, I had no way of doing that. Even when we were escorted to the lavatory, we were led out at different times, so there could be no sharing of information.

It all depended on whether or not they knew about
Orion.
Julian had a hunch, but what would happen if they contacted Skyhome, only to learn that there were no signals from a spaceship? Skyhome, I realized, was completely stranded without spaceships. Only Augustus had access to it, and surely he knew about it. The space city was so large that he couldn’t fail to notice that impossibly bright star, roving across the night sky. The question was, when would he
visit
it? And what would he do about it? If Makara and the others contacted Skyhome, would Augustus eventually figure out they were still alive?

I was roused from my thoughts when I heard a light tapping emanating from the bulwark, just to the left of my bunk. The tapping was extremely light, yet intentional. Loud enough for me to hear, soft enough that it wouldn’t catch the Praetorians’ attention.

I didn’t know who was in the cabin next to mine. I reached for the metal bulwark. It felt cold against my fingers. I gave a few light taps, so tiny that I could barely hear them.

The tapping from the other side stopped...

...and began a couple feet to the left of where I’d heard it last.

Someone – either Ashton or Anna – was definitely trying to get my attention. I rose from my bunk, following the direction of the sound. I knelt by the head of my bunk, placing my ear against the wall.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I responded with my own three taps. Again, the tapping ceased, beginning again from the corner of the compartment, as far as possible from the door. There was little risk of getting caught; dinner wouldn’t be served until 18:00, so we had a little over an hour.

Two more taps came from the corner. I waited for more.

After a long pause, a few more taps came: three, all from different places in the wall. Someone was directly on the other side.

“Hello?” I said, softly.

Of course, there was no response. There was no way the other person could hear me, and I didn’t want to speak any louder.

The three taps came again, from the same locations – one directly in front of my face, followed by two more at the level of my waist.

“Aston? Anna?”

There was no way either of them could hear me. Not unless I spoke louder. Whoever this was, they were trying to communicate something without speaking. I focused on the taps, realizing the key was there.

The same three taps resounded, at the same locations. There was a pattern here if I could just figure it out...

They were making a triangle, for some reason. What did that mean?

I realized then they weren’t making a triangle. They were making the letter “A.”

Ashton, or Anna. That didn’t really help me.

I made my own “A,” at the same three spots I had heard them come from. I quickly followed this with an “L,” which consisted of a tap in front of my face, one near my chest, and one to the right of that.

There was a short pause before I heard a single tap, a series of taps in an S shape, followed by another tap, lower and on the opposite side of the first one. This person had made an “S”.

“Ashton,” I said.

Of course, the brilliant scientist would be the one to devise this method of communication. In case the point wasn’t clear, he began spelling out the rest of his name with a capital H-T-O-N. I spelled mine start to finish as well, so that he would know for sure who I was.

Over the next minute or two, he spelled out a message to me:

Anna on other side.

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the other side of the ship, or on the compartment opposite of Ashton. I assumed the latter. I didn’t want to waste time asking for confirmation. So, I just wrote:
O.K.

This was a surprisingly efficient way of communicating, so much so that it was a wonder we hadn’t thought of it earlier. Morse code would have been easier, but none of us knew that. Maybe Ashton had been trying to do this for a while, but the taps had just been too soft for me to notice.

I paused, thinking of what I might ask next.

Where are we going?

The response was quick.

L.A.

I wanted to ask how Ashton knew, but then again, I didn’t want to waste any time. I decided to take his word for it. I wanted to ask Ashton why we had been in the air for three days, but instead I tried to think of a message that wasn’t too long. Another message came through the wall.

Anna okay.

I had assumed that already – it probably would have been the first thing Ashton would have told me if she wasn’t.

Does she know?

I hoped Ashton knew what I meant: whether Anna knew about our destination.

Yes.

Remembering my dream, I knew I needed to communicate it to Ashton.

Had dream. Others are okay.

I paused, giving Ashton the chance to respond.

What else?

Julian knows about ship.

Ashton responded quickly.

Good.

That wasn’t the complete truth; Julian had a
hunch
about the ship, but it was too late to take the message back without confusion. They would contact Skyhome, but Skyhome probably wouldn’t be able to track
Orion
and confirm Julian’s suspicion – unless Augustus revealed himself from there. I couldn’t explain all that to Ashton through the wall, though.

I was trying to think of something else to ask when the door slammed open. I turned toward the light, never looking more suspicious in my life. Maxillo himself stood in the doorway, Chief Praetorian of Nova Roma. He glowered as his eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing? You are talking?”

“No,” I said, walking to the center of the cabin and facing him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maxillo said. “We will land soon. You can explain yourself to the Emperor then.”

Outside in the corridor, more doors opened. We were all being taken out to prepare for our landing. For the first time in three days, I would see my friends.

Maxillo nodded his head toward the corridor, indicating that I should exit the cabin. Beyond Maxillo, Ashton walked by, a Praetorian right behind him. The scientist looked in at me, his white hair and beard a wild mess. He gave me a sly wink. As he walked past the door, I went toward the doorway. By the time I reached it, Anna walked by, escorted by her own Praetorian. She cast me a quick glance before she was hidden by the bulwark.

I stepped into the hallway. Maxillo gave me a light push, forcing me toward the wardroom.

We were all made to sit at the table. Maxillo left us with three stone-faced Praetorians and headed for the bridge.

“Stay quiet,” he said. “We will be in the city soon.”

As instructed, none of us spoke. A moment later, the ship changed trajectory, angling downward. I held on to the edge of the table to steady myself.

A few minutes later, we sunk vertically toward the ground. The ship gave a sudden lift before it settled onto the surface outside.

At long last, we had arrived in Los Angeles.

***

T
he blast door opened, revealing the sky burning fiery red from the setting sun. Buildings had crumbled onto one another, though most still stood. The decayed skyline, distant, was lost in reddish haze – not from the pollution of the Old World, but from the dust of the new.

We stood on the roof of a large, long building.
Orion
had perched on a helipad, its three struts barely fitting on the landing site. A cold, dry wind blew. Though cold, the breeze was warmer than I was used to. I had read something about oceans keeping coastal regions warmer than inland areas. Maybe that was why it was warmer.

I didn’t know why I was thinking such things when the situation was so dire. I stared at the decayed cityscape, the twisting towers, the crisscrossing streets clogged with the rusted shells of cars and trucks, low-lying buildings stained with thirty years of dust and debris.

A hand pushed me down the boarding ramp toward the tarmac. Ashton and Anna were right behind. No one spoke.

The Praetorians made us stand at the bottom of the ramp, facing out. As more feet clomped down, I looked at the fallen city. The crimson sky cast bloodlike light on the buildings. To the east, mountains marched north to south, making a natural wall. Far to the north, even more mountains crisscrossed east to west. I even saw buildings in the eastern, lifeless hills, despite how far they were. Trees stood, but most were long dead. Maybe all. In the thirty years since Ragnarok, Los Angeles had been reclaimed by the desert.