The Sowing

Tearing away from Cage, I grab Crowley, pulling him up with us to the surface as the carcharian devours Crowley’s Incentive, Bio-Pod and all. Then I’m breaking through the surface, gasping, filling my starving lungs with glorious air, Crowley slumped against me. On my other side, Cage is bobbing in the water, hand clasped in mine, holding them both high for everyone to see we’ve made it.

“You okay, mate?” he whispers.

I nod.

The whine of feedback pierces my clogged ears:

Recruit Cage, you have rescued your second Incentive and completed this Trial in Third Place. Unfortunately, Recruit Crowley has finished last and his Incentive has been shelved accordingly.

On the platform above us, Drusilla and Boaz stand, anxious looks plastered on their faces.

“Crowley… needs… help!” I gasp.

Boaz pushes forward. “We got him!”

Then they’re crouching at the edge, helping Cage and me haul Crowley onto the platform. Blood oozes from the wound in his leg, puddling at our feet.

Crowley’s eyes are wide open and glazed, all the color drained from his flesh. “Jorgen…” he mutters through clenched teeth.

Drusilla cradles his head in her lap. “Is he even breathing?”

Cage rubs Crowley’s forehead. “He’s in bloody shock.”

I’m gripping Crowley’s leg, trying to apply as much pressure as I can. “He’s losing too much blood.”

“We need a medic here!” Boaz shouts at the spherical drones hovering above us like insects.

I lean in close to Crowley’s ear. “Hang in there. It’s going to be okay. Help’s coming.”

He moans and clutches my arm. “Please tell me I didn’t just kill Jorg—oh, hell… what have I done…?”

“Stay away from him!” Boaz shoves me so hard I nearly fall back into the sea.

Cage grabs me and keeps me from going over. He springs up and shoves Boaz away. “Rack off! It’s nobody’s fault except the mongrels running this show.”

Boaz ogles him. “How can you take this traitor’s side? Crowley’s one of us. And now he’s going to die because of—”

“He’s not going to die, you whacker!”

But even as he says the words, Cage’s jaw clenches, his expression hardening like dried clay.

He turns to gaze at the recovered Bio-Pods, which are being picked up by metal claws descending from a conveyor belt in the maze of girders and beams above. “Tristin okay?” he mutters.

“She’s hanging in there. Better than most.” I try to crack a smile. “Why didn’t you just leave when you saw who was in your other pod?”

He nods toward the drones. “Is that what you’d do, mate?”

Two Imposers appear and lift Crowley into a hovering med capsule, disappearing with him.

I can’t help but think of that image I saw of Digory on that grainy surveillance footage.

Styles and Renquist emerge out of a side door and approach me with weapons drawn.

Drusilla touches my hand. “Tell Arrah… tell her… I love her…”

I nod. “I will.”

“Let’s go, Spark.” Renquist grunts.

Then they’re hauling me away, and I’m wondering if it’s Dahlia or Jorgen who won’t be there when I get back.

NINETEEN

I’m standing in the middle of a long corridor of arched black stone. Something’s swaying back and forth, something metallic like dangling chains…

A Bio-Pod, torn and smeared with blood.

I grab hold and rip the faceplate away.

It’s Digory. His skin’s mottled gray, once-full lips shriveled and torn. His eyes pop open. Instead of that brilliant blue, they’re white as eggshells. Tears of blood pool and drip from the corners down his hollow cheeks. His mouth opens with a sickening pop, as if his lips have been stuck together for a long time.

“You never came back for me like you promised.” His voice is a throaty gurgle. His skin tears as his mouth stretches into a smile, oozing pus. “But soon you’ll be dead, too.”

———

I bolt upright.

“Lucian, are you okay?” a voice whispers in my ear.

I can’t see anything but the thick cloak of blackness that smothers me. Panic jolts through me like a live wire. What have they done to me? I’m blind. Instinctively, my fingers grope my face to make sure my eyes are still in their sockets.

Then consciousness tears through the tattered vestiges of my nightmare. It was a dream. I’m in my cell. Must be after lights-out.

I sense breathing and my hands find the face near me, cupping the smooth, cool cheeks.

“Tristin?” I whisper back.

“Yes, it’s me.” Her hand touches mine. “When I got brought back, you were already passed out. Then they turned off the lights for the night. Looks like you were having some kind of bad dream. Heard you calling for ‘Digory.’”

I let go of her face and grab her hands, anxious to change the subject. “The others, did you see them? Are they okay? Who did we lose? Was it Dahlia?”

She sighs. “I’m not sure. I only caught a glimpse of some of the others—Corin, your friends Leander and Arrah. That’s about all I remember seeing before they switched off the juice. Sorry.”