Silence. Nothing but darkness and silence. Even the Gems on the gallows seem to hold their breath. From far away, I hear the ocean, a distant roar as it rises and falls, smashing into rocks. The ocean grows louder, angrier. Helicopters.
‘FALL BACK!’ Thorn roars.
The rebels begin to shout, feet slap the tarmac, gun barrels click into position.
I hear Ash. ‘We need to get out of here.’
But I stand completely still, my legs jammed in position. There was no ambush in canon. The rebels never even went to the Coliseum. How do the Gems know we’re here?
Helicopters swarm above, pouring shafts of white light into the black, like giant streamers probing the ground. I see fragments of movement as if captured by a strobe. Cables arcing over the Coliseum walls. Rebels retreating, their weapons raised. Figures crawling over the wall like spiders. A helicopter passes directly overhead. The pulse of the blades travels through my skin. All the tiny hairs on my face – even my eyelashes – stretch towards the ground, caught in the downward draught. My nose fills with dust, my ears feel ready to burst, and in the blinding white light, I see the blanched-out faces of the Gems beside me, ropes twisted beneath their chins.
My hand still grips Thorn’s. He pulls me near as if I’m a doll. His normally lavender eyes are almost colourless, his pupils two black pits. ‘Did you do this?’
I open my mouth to respond, but he leaps from the stage, pulling his gun from his holster in one swift motion. And then he’s gone. The helicopter passes and the world swings back to darkness.
Ash tugs my overalls. ‘Violet, come on.’
Gunfire erupts and I see a spray of embers in the distance. Beneath the searchlights, more spiders drop into the Coliseum, their helmets glistening like beetle shells. A light moves over us. Ash pulls my arm and we spring from the stage. The earth hurtles towards me, and I see my boots colliding with the black puddle of my shadow. The searchlight flits away.
‘Nate!’ I reach blindly for him.
‘I’m here.’ His voice, shrill with terror, finds me above the gunfire. Another flash. His face dives towards me. I pull him from the searchlight into the blanket of darkness. Ash encases my head, pushing me low to avoid the bullets which zip above. Bent double, we begin to run.
We reach the outer wall of the Coliseum and edge towards the wooden door near the Imp-pen. A noise splinters the air, silencing the gunshots and the cries. A noise like no firework I’ve ever heard, screeching through the sky like a comet. I turn, just in time to see a helicopter crashing into the centre of the arena. Its searchlight pours across the ground like a ghostly blood pool. The blades still attempt to turn, causing the body to twitch like it still clings to life. Smoke balloons into the sky and a dreadful snapping sound resonates between the Coliseum walls.
Two figures, moulded from flames, stagger from the heap. Squaddies rush to the wreck, but an explosion pushes them back, tossing them high in the air as though flicked by a giant hand. The blast ripples through me. I turn into the stone wall, shielding my face as best I can.
I glance back to see the remnants of the helicopter illuminating the Coliseum like a bonfire. The air fills with the scent of petrol and smoke, and this faint greasy smell I can’t quite place. It smells a bit like pork. Bodies surround the metal shell, forming a perfect circle, some dazed, but some black and red and smouldering. Flesh. I can smell roasting human flesh. Nate grabs at my overalls and a muffled gasp escapes my lips.
‘Keep moving,’ Ash shouts.
We near the door and the gunfire seems to diminish. One by one, the floodlights sputter back into action. My heart lurches. I can see the devastation clearly now. Scraps of fire mingling with black smudges which I think may be bodies, lines of smoke reaching towards the sky, the helicopter still smouldering like a giant centrepiece. The Gems we captured have long since vanished, and most of the rebels are now being marched from the Coliseum. The Gems could have killed all the rebels if they’d wanted. A blanket of explosives, a few canisters of gas. They must want them for questioning, or a fresh supply of meat for the Gallows Dance. I start to shake uncontrollably, my stomach contracting and expanding in quick succession.
‘Hurry,’ Ash says.
I can see that wooden door, we’re so close.
I hear the squaddies approaching. But I don’t look. I can almost taste the air beyond the doors, free from the scent of burning flesh. The thwack of boots on concrete grows louder. ‘Drop your weapons! Raise your hands!’ I grab the handle, but a row of fingers pincer-grip my upper arm and a gun pushes into my back. Any hope of escaping disappears. I look across the Coliseum to see Howard running towards us.
‘Her . . . Yes, her!’ he shouts. Blood still trickles from his ear where Thorn belted him, and the gag – dampened by spit – encircles his neck. ‘That’s the dirty little slut who’s behind it all. She drugged us so her barbaric friends could kidnap us.’ He pushes his face into mine, I can smell the blood and champagne on his breath. ‘I will see you dance on the gallows tomorrow, ape.’
It’s the canon, dragging me back, forcing those threads to intertwine. But my death will be pointless unless Willow runs forward and announces his undying love. And there’s no chance of that now he’s got Alice. A fresh wave of panic rushes through me.
The squaddies march us towards the giant electric gates at the far side of the Coliseum – the exit which leads to the Pastures. We pass the remains of the helicopter and the side of my face burns hot and sore. I hear Nate whimper behind me. I want to turn, to tell him everything will be OK – even though I know it won’t – but I can sense the squaddies watching me, their weapons trained on the back of my head.
Beyond the exit, I see an army of Gems awaiting us. The outlines of the rebels’ faces stare from helicopters, hovercrafts and trucks alike. I can’t believe I ever thought of them as extras from my favourite film, just background noise to an epic love story. Their fight for freedom, their quest for justice, now seems so much bigger than the needs of two love-struck teenagers.
We walk further away from the Coliseum and I get a strange, unsettled feeling in my gut just knowing I’m back in the Pastures. Back in the candyfloss world of the Gems.
A sergeant approaches. Unceremoniously, he snatches my arm. ‘These three are coming with me.’
The squaddies salute him. He guides us between a cluster of vehicles. I see groups of soldiers, some peeling away their armour, others sipping at cups of hot liquid, steam unfurling into the cold. We approach a grounded hovercraft, slightly removed from the rest of the squadron. It crouches on the pavement, a giant pewter disc. A hatch opens, offering a series of metal steps.
‘Wait here,’ the sergeant barks at Ash and Nate.
Strangely, I feel relieved. If word has got out I’m the ringleader, maybe they’ll go easy on the others. The guard nudges me up the steps, the pressure of his gun at the bottom of my spine. I enter the craft, stooping slightly, and see a line of squaddies, their perfect Gem faces staring at me.
And in the pilot’s chair, leaning casually against a control panel like a cockerel in a henhouse, is Willow.