She covers her mouth with an unsteady hand. “We should pick a realm, either realm. Many Ends...”
“Yes,” I tell her. “Choose.” Not knowing what else to do but remembering Archer’s final words to Clay, I whisper, “Archer. I’m asking you for help. Please.”
There’s no bright light, and he doesn’t magically appear.
Sloan must have read my lips. A tremor rocks her against me. “Where is he? Ten, where is he?”
Her panic is kindling for my own, but I manage to tamp it down. “We don’t have to see him to know he’s here.” I’ve learned the hard way.
“What if he’s only allowed to help Troikans?”
“We’re potentials. We qualify.” We must.
“I want to see him. I need to see him.”
I...don’t, I realize, shocked. I trust him. Despite everything—or maybe because of everything—I know he’s doing everything within his power to save us. The real question is—will it be enough?
The plane continues to plummet. My pulse points race harder and faster, as if I’ve been injected with a thousand vials of baiser de la mort.
I glance out the window and see no sign of clouds—only land. Green. Lush. Pretty. We are going to crash. There’ll be no stopping it. Any moment now...
“Brace for impact,” I tell Sloan.
“Ten.” Tears cascade down her cheeks.
“Have you chosen?”
Long locks of her pale hair slap her cheeks as she shakes her head.
Some people say your entire life flashes inside your head just before the end. Mine doesn’t. I don’t have an amazing epiphany with all the answers. I know only that I’m not ready to die, and that I won’t—I can’t—allow courage to fail me. Today I fight to live and live to fight.
I won’t die.
I tuck Sloan against me and wrap myself around her and notice—
No. Dang him, no!
Killian struggles to return to us. The blue flecks in his eyes are completely overshadowed by the darkness of his pupils.
“Leave,” I shout. “Leave now.” I won’t let him die inside his Shell. “Go. Go!”
He doesn’t, using his leeway the same way Archer did.
“Sign with Myriad. Please.” He throws himself over us—
Boom!
I’m pitched back and forward almost simultaneously, the force so powerful I’m surprised I’m not snapped in two. Metal grinds and crunches, the sounds an assault to my ears. Fire dances through the belly of the plane as both engines explode. My adrenaline is so high, I shouldn’t feel a lick of heat or the bite of the belt or the slam of my body into the seat in front of me as the plane compacts, but the pain...it consumes me in an instant, swallows me—
I open my mouth to scream for help, but end up swallowing a mouthful of water. Water? We crashed into an ocean?
Crazy thought: Now I can surf.
I laugh hysterically as dizziness sweeps over me. Darkness is fast on its heels—
* * *
I come to with a realization that I’m floating...no, I’m dropping, down, down...thud.
Lying on my back, I crack open my eyes and discover I’m in the middle of a moon-drenched jungle, gnarled trees and thick foliage all around me. The only light comes from thousands of lightning bugs, many of which are buzzing around me.
Ouch! Several land on my arm, burning me. Not lightning bugs, after all. I think they are...living embers? I wave my hands to shoo them away and find blisters in their place.
The air is dry, white-hot, and sweat is pouring from me. Screams, so many screams, waft on the breeze. They are pain-filled, agonized, a story as certain as numbers—this is suffering in its purest form. Snakes, their forked tongues hissing at me, slither along branches that are stretching, stretching in my direction. Some kind of monkey-like creatures are highlighted by the ember-bugs and they are staring at me from between leaves that look like they have razor-sharp teeth.
Where am I? This doesn’t look like anyplace I’ve ever been.
“Sloan?” I call her name as I scramble to my feet. “Killian? Archer?”
There’s no response.
The monkeys jump to the ground a few yards away from me, and I realize they aren’t monkeys, after all. They have the bottom half of a giant spider—which is a nightmare all its own. Eight legs, each hairy and lined with sharp ivory horns.
I take a step back. They follow me.
This isn’t part of the Land of the Harvest, is it?
Could this be Many Ends?
For once, an answer is easy. No. This isn’t Many Ends. I’m not dead; I’m very much alive.
Boom!
The ground shakes so hard I’m knocked off my feet. The monkey-spiders dart behind the foliage, many of the stems now withdrawing into turtle-like shells. I turn to see a thick, horribly dark cloud mushroom toward the sky, and when it reaches yellowed clouds, it tips over like a waterfall and rains down, down, down upon the tops of the trees, where it breaks into a million pieces, those pieces darting in every direction, the smoke somehow morphing into big, black birds with skeletal bodies, spiked beaks and metal claws.
Snakes are grabbed with those claws. Monkeys are snagged with those beaks. I swallow a scream and run, counting my steps and turns. Eight steps, right turn. Eleven steps, left turn. I’m not sure how I got here, or how I’ll leave, but I need to know how to return to the spot I first arrived. Just in case it’s the key to going home...home... Where is home?
Twenty-three steps, another right. Some patches of air are shimmery, like curtains, but I feel no different when I pass through them, so I’m not sure what they do.
Six sharp pinpricks spear me in the back as I’m swept into the air. I scream and flail, panic threatening to overtake me. Ember-bugs slam into me, leaving blisters behind.
What should I do? What should I do!
Fight!
Right. I palm my scalpel—zero! I came with the clothes on my back, but not my weapon. Okay, it’s okay. I grab hold of a branch as we pass, our momentum allowing me to rip off the tip as well as the skin on my palm. Which doesn’t bleed, I notice, but leaks a thick, shimmery liquid.
Lifeblood.
I am dead. And this...this is Many Ends.
The knowledge rips through me, tearing my insides to shreds. I reel, the shock of my new reality almost too much to process. This means... No, no, no. My Firstlife is over, and I’ve officially entered the Everlife.
I can’t... I don’t... I need to...
Get it together!
A freak-out isn’t helping. My strength is draining—hemorrhaging—and I have to act quickly. I can worry and lament whenever I’m free.
I twist as best I can, take in a face that is nothing but a thorny beak and pitted bone, and swing up my arm, stabbing the branch into the creature’s side. A squawk rings out, as warm, black liquid gushes over my hand, burning like acid. Those claws open, at least, and slide out of my back. I drop.
When I slam into a patch of gnarled treetops, I lose my breath and quickly roll into branch after branch...finally landing on the ground with a thud. A rock has gouged my side, stealing what little oxygen I managed to suck in.
Though the dizziness has returned with a vengeance, I’m able to sit up and take stock of my new location. I frown. Nothing is different. Same gnarled trees, same toothy plants now slithering toward me—it’s as if running and turning this way and that and being flown roughly three hundred feet took me right back to where I started.
“Yes,” I tell her. “Choose.” Not knowing what else to do but remembering Archer’s final words to Clay, I whisper, “Archer. I’m asking you for help. Please.”
There’s no bright light, and he doesn’t magically appear.
Sloan must have read my lips. A tremor rocks her against me. “Where is he? Ten, where is he?”
Her panic is kindling for my own, but I manage to tamp it down. “We don’t have to see him to know he’s here.” I’ve learned the hard way.
“What if he’s only allowed to help Troikans?”
“We’re potentials. We qualify.” We must.
“I want to see him. I need to see him.”
I...don’t, I realize, shocked. I trust him. Despite everything—or maybe because of everything—I know he’s doing everything within his power to save us. The real question is—will it be enough?
The plane continues to plummet. My pulse points race harder and faster, as if I’ve been injected with a thousand vials of baiser de la mort.
I glance out the window and see no sign of clouds—only land. Green. Lush. Pretty. We are going to crash. There’ll be no stopping it. Any moment now...
“Brace for impact,” I tell Sloan.
“Ten.” Tears cascade down her cheeks.
“Have you chosen?”
Long locks of her pale hair slap her cheeks as she shakes her head.
Some people say your entire life flashes inside your head just before the end. Mine doesn’t. I don’t have an amazing epiphany with all the answers. I know only that I’m not ready to die, and that I won’t—I can’t—allow courage to fail me. Today I fight to live and live to fight.
I won’t die.
I tuck Sloan against me and wrap myself around her and notice—
No. Dang him, no!
Killian struggles to return to us. The blue flecks in his eyes are completely overshadowed by the darkness of his pupils.
“Leave,” I shout. “Leave now.” I won’t let him die inside his Shell. “Go. Go!”
He doesn’t, using his leeway the same way Archer did.
“Sign with Myriad. Please.” He throws himself over us—
Boom!
I’m pitched back and forward almost simultaneously, the force so powerful I’m surprised I’m not snapped in two. Metal grinds and crunches, the sounds an assault to my ears. Fire dances through the belly of the plane as both engines explode. My adrenaline is so high, I shouldn’t feel a lick of heat or the bite of the belt or the slam of my body into the seat in front of me as the plane compacts, but the pain...it consumes me in an instant, swallows me—
I open my mouth to scream for help, but end up swallowing a mouthful of water. Water? We crashed into an ocean?
Crazy thought: Now I can surf.
I laugh hysterically as dizziness sweeps over me. Darkness is fast on its heels—
* * *
I come to with a realization that I’m floating...no, I’m dropping, down, down...thud.
Lying on my back, I crack open my eyes and discover I’m in the middle of a moon-drenched jungle, gnarled trees and thick foliage all around me. The only light comes from thousands of lightning bugs, many of which are buzzing around me.
Ouch! Several land on my arm, burning me. Not lightning bugs, after all. I think they are...living embers? I wave my hands to shoo them away and find blisters in their place.
The air is dry, white-hot, and sweat is pouring from me. Screams, so many screams, waft on the breeze. They are pain-filled, agonized, a story as certain as numbers—this is suffering in its purest form. Snakes, their forked tongues hissing at me, slither along branches that are stretching, stretching in my direction. Some kind of monkey-like creatures are highlighted by the ember-bugs and they are staring at me from between leaves that look like they have razor-sharp teeth.
Where am I? This doesn’t look like anyplace I’ve ever been.
“Sloan?” I call her name as I scramble to my feet. “Killian? Archer?”
There’s no response.
The monkeys jump to the ground a few yards away from me, and I realize they aren’t monkeys, after all. They have the bottom half of a giant spider—which is a nightmare all its own. Eight legs, each hairy and lined with sharp ivory horns.
I take a step back. They follow me.
This isn’t part of the Land of the Harvest, is it?
Could this be Many Ends?
For once, an answer is easy. No. This isn’t Many Ends. I’m not dead; I’m very much alive.
Boom!
The ground shakes so hard I’m knocked off my feet. The monkey-spiders dart behind the foliage, many of the stems now withdrawing into turtle-like shells. I turn to see a thick, horribly dark cloud mushroom toward the sky, and when it reaches yellowed clouds, it tips over like a waterfall and rains down, down, down upon the tops of the trees, where it breaks into a million pieces, those pieces darting in every direction, the smoke somehow morphing into big, black birds with skeletal bodies, spiked beaks and metal claws.
Snakes are grabbed with those claws. Monkeys are snagged with those beaks. I swallow a scream and run, counting my steps and turns. Eight steps, right turn. Eleven steps, left turn. I’m not sure how I got here, or how I’ll leave, but I need to know how to return to the spot I first arrived. Just in case it’s the key to going home...home... Where is home?
Twenty-three steps, another right. Some patches of air are shimmery, like curtains, but I feel no different when I pass through them, so I’m not sure what they do.
Six sharp pinpricks spear me in the back as I’m swept into the air. I scream and flail, panic threatening to overtake me. Ember-bugs slam into me, leaving blisters behind.
What should I do? What should I do!
Fight!
Right. I palm my scalpel—zero! I came with the clothes on my back, but not my weapon. Okay, it’s okay. I grab hold of a branch as we pass, our momentum allowing me to rip off the tip as well as the skin on my palm. Which doesn’t bleed, I notice, but leaks a thick, shimmery liquid.
Lifeblood.
I am dead. And this...this is Many Ends.
The knowledge rips through me, tearing my insides to shreds. I reel, the shock of my new reality almost too much to process. This means... No, no, no. My Firstlife is over, and I’ve officially entered the Everlife.
I can’t... I don’t... I need to...
Get it together!
A freak-out isn’t helping. My strength is draining—hemorrhaging—and I have to act quickly. I can worry and lament whenever I’m free.
I twist as best I can, take in a face that is nothing but a thorny beak and pitted bone, and swing up my arm, stabbing the branch into the creature’s side. A squawk rings out, as warm, black liquid gushes over my hand, burning like acid. Those claws open, at least, and slide out of my back. I drop.
When I slam into a patch of gnarled treetops, I lose my breath and quickly roll into branch after branch...finally landing on the ground with a thud. A rock has gouged my side, stealing what little oxygen I managed to suck in.
Though the dizziness has returned with a vengeance, I’m able to sit up and take stock of my new location. I frown. Nothing is different. Same gnarled trees, same toothy plants now slithering toward me—it’s as if running and turning this way and that and being flown roughly three hundred feet took me right back to where I started.
