Читать книгу Idols - Margaret Stohl, Margaret Stohl - Страница 15

Rock shouldn’t move like that.

I ponder Ro’s superstrength as we make our way back to the campsite for what’s left of our things, slowly climbing the dirt hillside in the moonlight.

Ro couldn’t have even budged a boulder that size a year ago.

Are my powers changing too?

I shouldn’t have been able to feel my way to Fortis, all the way back at the camp. Not from that far away.

I look at the others, on the trail ahead of me.

Tima kept us from falling out of the sky. So she’s escalating. It’s not just Ro and me.

What about Lucas? What could he compel the world to do, if he wanted to? What could he compel me to do?

Lucas turns and grins at me—as if he knows what I’m thinking—and I hurry to catch up, matching my pace to his.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Tima says, finally. She stops in her tracks, and I sink to the ground, grateful for the rest. Not having superstrength myself.

“What doesn’t?” I look at her. Even in the darkness, I can see how freaked out she is.

“The Lords. Why didn’t they search harder for us? They just took Fortis and left.”

Ro shrugs, wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. Even in the dim evening light, his bare stomach is brown and flat and hard beneath it, and I look away, embarrassed. “Who cares? We’re alive, aren’t we?” He lets the shirt drop.

Tima frowns. “I care, because they could be tracking us now—in which case, we need to know why.”

Lucas bends his head toward her. “Maybe we really were untraceable? Maybe Fortis convinced them we weren’t there?”

“Maybe the explosions distracted them,” I say, hopefully.

“Maybe” is all Tima will say.

Nobody believes her, not even me.

When we reach camp, the destruction is obvious and complete. Everything has either been incinerated into dust or scattered into the desert wind. What the Lords’ ships didn’t immediately destroy, Fortis’s own explosives seem to have finished. Some remains are still burning.

“See? We wouldn’t have been much help here,” Lucas says to me, taking my hand.

He’s right, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, seeing the smoldering hole that used to be our campsite only makes me feel worse.

“Come on. Don’t just stand there. Start looking,” Tima calls out to us, and I realize we’ve naturally wandered to three different sides of the blast zone.

“For what?” Ro shouts back, impatient as always.

“Things like this.” Tima fishes the charred relay out of the ash, the only possible link between Lucas’s cuff and Doc, buried deep beneath the ground. She drops it as soon as she has it in her hands. “Ow—still hot.”

“A burned hunk of metal?” Ro looks dubious.

“A burned hunk of metal that might save our lives,” Tima says, brushing more debris off her discovery.

“Enough said.” Ro heads to the other side of the site.

My hands are elbow deep in warm soot, searching for any remains of our packs, of our supplies, when I see something that doesn’t belong.

“Wait.” I brush away more ash. “Guys? Tima? You need to see this.”

There, amid the destruction, barely lit by the dying flames and the full moon, I see something protruding from the ground.

It looks like a black, pointed finger emerging from below.

“What did you—” Tima stops dead, perfectly still. “That. It can’t.”

“I know,” I say.

I can’t move. I can barely speak.

I hear Lucas and Ro running toward us. Tima holds up her hand to them, slowly edging toward me. “This looks like the Icon.”

“It wasn’t there before,” I say, numb.

Ro stops short behind me. “Yeah, well. It’s there now.”

Lucas moves next to me, a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Even his warm touch doesn’t help, not now. Not in sight of that black growth.

Lucas turns to Tima. “What can it mean?”

She’s thinking—you can almost see it, and I can more than feel it. Images flicker through her mind, fast as rain.

Black roots, Icon structures, the ruins of Griff Park.

Ships in the sky. Lucas’s cuff.

Doc.

Tima finally raises her voice. “I remember Doc saying the Icons were connected belowground, with an unseen web of tendrils.”

“Like roots.” I nod.

“Which was why it took a few days between when the Lords landed and the Icons activated,” Lucas says.

“They had to connect. They had to grow the network.” Even Ro remembers. “But is that it? You think these things are growing now?”

I don’t want to think about what that would mean. None of us does.

“Or maybe the ship dropped it,” Lucas says, hopefully.

Ro steps closer to the black tendril.

He reaches out—

“Ro, don’t,” I say. But Ro never listens to anyone, not even me, so he grabs it with both hands.

“Don’t pull it out. You don’t know what will happen.”

“Don’t worry,” Ro says between his teeth, red-faced. “I can’t.” Sure enough, I can almost see the smoke rising from his hands.

Ro, who can move a boulder with his hands, can’t get this black obsidian shard to come free of a few feet of ash and rubble. I can see it vibrating, though, as he pulls—the way the Icon did, back in the Hole.

“That can’t be good.” I say the words, but I know we’re all thinking them.

Ro gives up, backing away.

Tima—and Brutus—watch soberly. “Maybe it’s not what we think? A beacon or something the Lords left?”

“Like a marker,” Lucas says.

“Whatever it is—it’s time to go.” I step back. Lucas nods.

Ro looks at us. “No argument here.”

So Tima grabs the relay and we start walking.

That’s it, all we have to show from our entire campsite. No food, no water, no plan, and no Fortis.

It’s not our finest moment, but it may be one of our last.

Hours later, it’s just the four of us—unless you count Ro’s dead snake—in the center of an ancient, crumbling highway, in the wasteland of the desert, in the middle of the night.

In an instant, Fortis was taken and everything changed. And yet somehow here we are—Tima, Ro, Lucas, and me—walking down a road as if nothing has changed at all.

Except we’re starving.

Starving. Thirsty. Dirty. Irritable. Freezing cold.

But still alive.

Tima curses under her breath as she yanks on a loose wire connected to the relay.

“Careful.” Ro is hovering between us. He knows I hate it when he hovers.

I roll my eyes. “Tima is being careful. And yelling at her isn’t going to make it work any faster.”

It’s the malfunctioning comlink relay that’s stressing us all out—the lifeline that connects Fortis’s and Lucas’s cuffs to Doc when we’re outside the city. Lucas still has his cuff, but without the comlink relay, it’s useless. Tima, shivering in only a thin shirt, has been messing with it for the last hour, and still we’re no closer to figuring out how to turn it on.

“You getting anything yet?” She looks up to where Lucas is fiddling with his cuff, but he shakes his head.

“Still only static.” He stamps his feet, trying to stay warm in the cold desert night.

“My best guess is that the Lords tracked the signal to Fortis’s comlink. Good thing you happened to have switched off yours,” Tima says, looking up at Lucas. “There’s no other way they could have found us out here.” She frowns back at the relay, twisting tiny wires with her slender fingers. “Not that we know of, anyway.”

Lucas’s eyes flicker up to me, embarrassed.

Out of range, that was us. One sunset, one kiss may have saved our lives.

“So then how is it that we’re turning them back on?” Ro asks.

“Carefully. Maybe they won’t track us if we work fast. Try it again—now?” Tima doesn’t look up, trying it again. I hear her teeth chattering, but she doesn’t stop. If this relay doesn’t work, nobody’s cuffs will be of any use to us.

We’ll be cut off.

“Nope.” Lucas tosses the cuff down in front of him, frustrated. “Fortis left that thing stashed like he wanted us to find it. There has to be a reason.”

“Unless the reason was that he was busy getting his ass kicked.” Ro shrugs. “Which can be a little distracting. In my experience. As the kicker.” He grins.

“Not the ass?” Lucas shoots him a look.

“You looking for a demonstration?” Ro is already on his feet. “’Cause I’m happy to do some demonstrating.”

“Idiots.” I pick up the cuff again. I raise it to my mouth. “Doc? Can you hear me? Can anyone hear me? Doc?”

Ro makes a face. “Stop shouting.”

“I’m not shouting. I’m talking loudly.” I press another sensor. A blast of static answers me, and I jump and almost drop the cuff. Brutus growls at it. I hear a shout of laughter from my other side.

I glare at Ro, who now wears the snake flapping around his neck like a scarf, or some kind of bizarre hunting trophy. “Would you please get serious? Look around, we’re in the middle of nowhere. We have no food. No weapons. No transportation. All of us—including you—could die. You think this is a joke? Does this make you happy?”

Ro smirks in response—because that’s what Ro does. “To be honest, I’d be happier if we had a couple of donkeys. Or maybe a No Face ship of our own. Talk about a sweet ride.” Ro’s laugh dies out into a sigh. “Whatever.” He looks over to Tima. “Keep trying, T.”

Tima almost drops the relay. “Sorry. It’s just—I keep thinking.”

“Somehow that’s not a surprise,” says Lucas as he messes with his cuff.

Tima looks up. “I don’t know what I would do if it was me and not Fortis trapped on that ship.”

“Not me,” says Ro, matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t let myself get on it in the first place.”

“And you think Fortis happily walked right on?” Lucas rolls his eyes. “You heard the explosions.”

“Sometimes it’s not up to you. Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes you run out of luck,” I say, sadly.

“Yeah? Not me. They come for me, you have my permission to shoot. I’m not hitching a ride with a No Face.” I wait for the laugh, but Ro’s not joking. Not anymore.

He’s deadly serious.

It’s only Lucas who answers. “It would be my honor. Consider it a promise. I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Shut up, both of you.” I hand the cuff to Tima, close my eyes, and lean forward to rest. I don’t want to listen to this. I want to transport myself back to the mission, the warm stove, the safety of Bigger’s kitchen.

Anywhere but here.