Holt grabbed Max and yanked him away right as the second walker’s plasma cannon opened up with a scream, ripping the ground and the trees all around them to pieces. But Holt knew it was panic fire: it couldn’t see.
Holt shut his eyes tight as the cannon roared behind him. He dropped Max to the ground and the two of them rushed for the water, just a dozen yards away. The ground shuddered behind Holt as the walkers moved to pursue, still covered in black goo, relying on other senses.
Max had no issue following Holt this time. A few more strides and they reached the water, leapt in, let the current rip them downstream. They were going to make it.
Or were they?
The river kept them close to the bank as it flung them forward. Holt realized they were going to pass just feet from the two walkers. All the machines had to do was step in, and he and Max were done for.
The Mantises rushed to the water. Holt shut his eyes.
But the walkers made no move to venture into the river. In fact, they stopped well short of the water.
Holt, stunned, watched the Mantises as he and Max floated right by them.
They called out furiously; their plasma cannons flashed. Yellow bolts incinerated the water all around them … but it was too late. The current swept Holt and Max quickly out of reach.
With what little strength he had left, Holt swam for the shore, pushing through the frothing current. The water threatened to bury him, but he finally reached the other side and painfully pulled himself onto the opposite bank, using the last of his energy to crawl onto the sandy ground. He collapsed face-first into the dirt, breathing, filling his lungs, miraculously alive.
Holt lay that way a long time, concentrating on his exhaustion and the aches in his body.
From above him came the sound of heavy breathing, in and out. A panting.
Holt knew the sound.
He pulled his face from the sand. Max sat staring down at Holt with a curious look. He was soaking wet. In his mouth was an old purple rubber ball, thoroughly chewed through and faded from repeated use. It was Max’s favorite toy. But how—?
Holt looked to his right, saw where his pack lay about ten feet away, its strings opened, its contents spilled onto the sand.
The dog must have made it to shore before him. And the first thing he’d looked for … was his stupid purple ball from Holt’s pack.
Holt glared at him. “Give me that,” he said testily, grabbing the ball from the dog’s mouth. Max stared at him in excitement, assuming Holt was about to throw it. Holt sighed, but smiled regardless. They had both made it.
Holt scratched Max’s head … and threw the ball. Max barked and chased after it.
Holt scooped the spilled contents back into his pack, trying to remove as much sand as he could. He sealed it, slung it over his shoulder, checked the guns on his back, his other equipment, making sure he hadn’t lost anything. Somehow, he hadn’t.
Holt pulled himself to his feet as Max came running back with the ball. Holt frowned down at him, feeling the soreness in his muscles already.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Holt said. Max made no comment.
Holt looked back down the river to where they had left the Mantises.
There was no sign of them now. They hadn’t attempted to follow.
Holt was beyond surprised. He had no idea they had an aversion to water. But somehow … Zoey had. She’d been right again. But where did that insight come from? And was it something to be thankful for … or wary of?
Holt set off down the riverbank, looking for any sign of Zoey and Mira. After fifteen minutes searching both directions, he finally found what he was looking for.
Disturbances in the sand where two people—one older, one much younger—had pulled themselves onto shore. He followed the tracks into the forest, saw where they disappeared into the overgrowth.
Mira Toombs. She’d gotten away. Again.
From nowhere, the scent of her hair, mint and soft spices, replayed in his mind. He forced the thoughts away, angry with himself.
So her hair smelled nice. So she had eyes the color of emeralds, what did it matter? She was a wanted poster to him, and that was it. She was his ticket to escaping the Menagerie once and for all. And she was absolutely, most definitely, not attractive in the slightest.
But none of that changed the fact that she’d escaped.
Max whined at his side, studying the tracks, eager to pursue.
Holt petted his head. “Don’t worry, pal,” he said as he pulled his pack off his shoulder, opened it, looked inside.
There, wrapped in some spare clothes, was the glass cylinder Mira had risked her life to get in Clinton Station. The strange brownish substance glittered in the center of the clear liquid.
Holt smiled when he saw it. “This time, I think she’ll find
us.
”
14.
SHROUD
MIRA AND ZOEY MOVED
through the forest as the afternoon sun pushed through the treetops, lighting everything below in a kaleidoscope of light and shadow.
The weight of the pack behind her was noticeably lighter. It felt deflated, and every step she took, it sagged against her shoulders, a constant reminder that Holt had one-upped her. When had he taken the cylinder? When she was sleeping last night?
It infuriated Mira that she’d been outsmarted. Especially by the bounty hunter. Images of Holt rushing to save that stupid dog had played in her mind all morning. The way he’d run at the Mantis walkers, shotgun drawn, like some kind of white knight.
She forced the images out of her head.
He was no white knight, she reminded herself. He was a bounty hunter intent on turning her in to Midnight City. But hadn’t he let her go … in order to save Max? It couldn’t have been an easy decision, if he needed the reward money as much as she guessed. Losing her was as big a deal for him as losing the cylinder was for her.
Then again, had he
really
let her go? He had the cylinder, he knew how important it was to her, probably even anticipated she’d come back for it. He might even expect her to just show up and turn herself in.
Well, if he did, he had another thing—
The Tone swelled in Mira’s mind, blocking out all her senses in a burst of static, like from a broken television. It was so loud, it was jarring, the loudest it had ever been … but it went away as quickly as it had come, receding away. Was it just her, or did it seem louder now in the background, swirling and waiting in the back of her consciousness?
“Do you think we’ll see the Max again?” Zoey asked in her softly casual tone. She walked and held on to Mira’s shirt as they moved. The flare-up had been too quick for the little girl to notice.
“I’m fine with seeing either of them,” Mira replied, forcing the last bit of the Tone away. “But I would prefer they didn’t see
us.
”
“Why not? Aren’t you and Holt friends?”
“Most definitely not,” Mira said with a frown.
Zoey smiled, looking up at Mira. “You seem like friends to me.”
Mira looked down at the little girl. She stared up with her blue eyes, and there was something behind the look. A … pondering was the best word Mira could come up with. Every look Zoey gave her had an implied curiosity to it.
“Zoey, where are you from?” Mira asked.
“From?” the little girl asked.
“How did you get here?”
“I crashed in a ship, Holt saved me.”
“Before that, I mean. Where were you before that?”
Zoey’s demeanor darkened at the question. She looked away.
“Zoey?” Mira pressed.
“I don’t remember,” the little girl finally responded, still not looking up at Mira. Her voice was barely audible now. “I don’t remember anything from before the crash.”
Mira stared at Zoey as the words sank in. “Zoey, you’re at least eight years old. You must remember something from before. Your parents, brothers or sisters, things you did before the Assembly,
something.
”
Zoey looked up at Mira again. Her eyes were no longer calculating or calm. Now there was uneasiness in them, fear even. “I just remember waking up when the ship crashed, and Holt finding me,” she said. “I know I should remember more, but I don’t. I don’t even know if I want to remember. What if remembering is scarier than not remembering?”
What if, indeed. Mira couldn’t say she wouldn’t feel the same way.
“Do you remember your parents? Do you remember who took care of you before we found you?”
Zoey shook her head.
How was that possible? Mira wondered. God, what had the Assembly
done
to her?
“Look, Mira,” Zoey said, a note of brightness returning to her voice. “Now we can see the Max again!”
Mira looked ahead of them, where the woods thinned out into a small clearing. Smoke rose from a small fire there, filtering into the treetops. She could see Holt’s cot lying nearby, his pack on the ground under a tree.
Mira dropped to the ground, pulling Zoey with her, silencing the little girl before she could speak.
They’d found Holt’s camp. She just hoped he hadn’t spotted
them
in the process.
Mira stayed on the ground, listening for any sound of alarm or pursuit. But there was none. If he had seen them, there was no indication.
Mira thought through her options.
If he wasn’t expecting her, he was an idiot, would likely be easier to outwit, and deserved what he got.
But she was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be that simple. Holt, as infuriating as he was, wasn’t stupid. He was … resourceful. And clever. Mira lifted up just enough to see over the brush in front of her and look into the camp again.
The campfire burning in the open was her first clue. Holt always lit fires much more inconspicuously, so as to avoid detection. But here was one burning in the open. And his pack, conveniently away from everything else. Logically, it would be the first place she would look.
Everything in front of her was out of place. Which meant it was a trap, and Holt was lying in wait somewhere. Well, he and his smelly, furry friend had a surprise coming to them. A big one.
Mira dug through her pack, searching the artifacts inside. She pulled out two nickels, each wrapped in plastic sleeves so they couldn’t touch. Strange Lands coins were highly charged artifacts, and had a bad habit of exploding if they touched one another, or anything at all if they were thrown. It came in handy in lots of situations, and she had gotten good at using them as weapons in a pinch.
Next came a small broken piece of mirror, a sealed glass vial that seemed to contain nothing at all, and a roll of duct tape. She placed the first four objects one on top of the other, forming a chain of sorts.
First, she unwrapped one of the nickels and set it so the “head” of the coin faced outward. Then the glass vial (of Strange Lands air, a very useful ingredient) to serve as the combination’s Essence. Next, the mirror shard, which would be the Focuser and reflect the air Essence. At the other end, she placed the second coin, also heads facing out (which would make the polarity of the artifact combination “positive”).
When she was done, she wrapped the items together with the duct tape. As the Interfusion was made, the hair on Mira’s arms stood up. A slight charge sparked the air, and there was a crackling, a hum. Like something electrical was charging up. Mira opened the glass vial peeking out from under the tape. A hiss of air, a shimmer, the hum intensified for a second … and then everything went silent.
At the same time, Mira’s hand …
vanished.
She dropped the artifact. Her hand reappeared, and a small rock that the artifact landed on disappeared in its place.
Zoey stared in wonder. “How did you do that?” she whispered. “Can you do it again?”
Mira smiled, put a finger to her lips. The artifact combination created pure invisibility by reflecting air and light away from whatever it touched. Impressive … but not enough. Not yet. She needed to make a second combination, using the first as the new Essence.
From her pack, she pulled out more items: two dimes (also wrapped in plastic) and a large blue green marble.
Mira started with the coin (heads out). Next was the artifact combination she had just made, and then finally the marble and the second dime (again, heads out). She wrapped it all together with duct tape.
As she did, the hum came again, but this time it was louder. The air shimmered and blurred as a cocoon of invisibility enveloped her. Everything on the outside was muted and darker, like looking at the world through sunglasses.
This combination was an often-used one, called a Shroud. It incorporated the first artifact combination, increased its power, and forced the invisibility to flare outward in the form of a sphere (thanks to the marble Focuser). Now, whoever held it was surrounded by a ball of invisibility. At least until the combination’s power ran out, which wouldn’t be long from now.
Mira studied the artifact combination with distaste.
She prided herself on not just the ingenuity of the artifacts she created, but also their aesthetic virtues. Since leaving Midnight City, it seemed she was always making combinations in a frenzy. She didn’t have the luxury to take her time anymore, to use pretty bindings like gold or silver chain, lengths of silk of varying hues, or even colored twine. Now her artifacts were hastily created lumps of duct tape or rubber bands, without form or color or artistry.
It was one more thing she had lost when she fled.
“Stay here,” Mira whispered to Zoey. “I’m going into the camp.”
“I can’t pet the Max?” Zoey asked dejectedly.
“No, sweetheart, not right now. I need you to stay down and out of sight. Okay?”
Zoey pouted, but made no move to follow Mira as she crawled slowly forward.
Mira advanced cautiously. Though the Shroud kept her invisible, it didn’t make her intangible. She would still make noise and disturb the brush, which could give her position away. She had to be patient, take her time.
Mira inched into the camp’s interior, studying the layout as she did.
Holt’s pack lay at the far end, resting against a collection of trees that had grown upward together and intertwined. It was isolated and apart from the rest. Mira frowned at Holt’s obviousness: it was clearly where he meant her to go. It was where the trap would be sprung … whatever it was.