Sky on Fire

I saw Anna drifting toward the Girls’ clothing section.



I put the light down.



I would follow her into the aisle and I would grab her.



The thought made me sick to my stomach.



But to save Astrid?



I could do it.



“Where you going?” Payton demanded.



“No-nowhere,” I stammered.



Payton crossed to me in three strides. He grabbed me by the shirtfront.



“Anna’s off-limits, you hear me? No one touches her. No one thinks about her. Got that?” He got up so close that spit from his mouth sprayed me in the face. His teeth were yellow and his breath minty fresh.



“Yes,” I said. “Yes, sir!”



“I tell you what, you have so much time on your hands, why don’t you make us some lunch?!”



What is it about me that screams “cook”?



I went to the Food aisles, in the exact opposite direction of where Anna had headed.



What could I make these idiots? And what could I cook over a brass fire pit?



Soup, I decided. Chunky soup—the kind with those little hamburgers in it. Payton would like that.



We had some saltines, too.



I didn’t even hear her coming.



She touched me on the shoulder and I turned and Astrid was in my arms, kissing me hard, holding me to her.



“Where are you hiding?” I whispered when our kiss ended. “It’s not safe.”



Astrid pointed up.



“I just … I had to give you these.”



She pressed three foil packs into my hand. The sleeping pills. The EZ-melt ones. The ones that had knocked Chloe out for a day and a half.



“We used one on Luna and I thought…”



Of course. Sleeping pills.



“It’s brilliant,” I said. “Now go.”



She took my hand and led me to the next aisle and I saw the tile ajar in the ceiling.



I could see Caroline and Henry and Chloe peeking out. They looked tired and scared and grimy.



Caroline gave a little wave.



Astrid brought her face close to my ear and whispered, “Look, I want you to know that you’re—you’re the one for me. In case we die. I want you to know.”



And as lightly as a cat, she climbed back up the shelves and up into her nest in the ceiling.



* * *



I rushed into the next aisle.



I had to get the pills into something. And fast. But not the soup. It would be hot and, no, they might not all eat it.



Juice.



There it was.



That kind with the carrots and vegetables in it. Yes, yes, yes. It was sweet, really sweet, but had veggies so if it tasted a little off …



I grabbed two large bottles and took them to the back of the aisle.



I hoped that if someone came looking for me, I’d have time to hide the pills.



I unscrewed the tops off the two bottles and started pressing the sleeping pills out of the packs. There were eight pills in each pack and I had three packs. Well, two pills were out of one of the packs but it was still a lot of pills.



My heart hammered in my chest as I popped the pills into the juice.



Twenty-two sleeping pills. Eleven in each bottle.



Twenty-two sleeping pills to fell five cadets and to save our lives.



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE



ALEX



10–0 MILES



It’s hard to describe how huge the operation at the airport was.



First, we went into a waiting area for all new arrivals. There were about 200 other people when we got there, and every 10 minutes or so, another busload would arrive, adding 5–20 people.



They had taken seats from the airport gates and put them in there. They weren’t bolted to the floor so they wobbled, but they’d basically made a big waiting area.



Everywhere there were signs: EVERYONE MUST WEAR A MASK AT ALL TIMES.



There were air masks piled on the tables. Some were used, some were new. There weren’t any Army ones, like our two, available, but there was a different kind, like an Army-issue mask for civilians. I found one for me, and for Sahalia and Batiste. I put mine on and there was a distinct smell of some kind of fruit. I hated that smell but I couldn’t remember what fruit it was.



“Ugh,” Sahalia groaned. “Why do we need these? The damage has been done, for God’s sake.”



But we wore them. Everyone did. Because if you didn’t, an Army guy with a rifle would come over and shove one into your hands.



I think that they made us wear them for the sake of the type ABs. Obviously the type Os and As knew to keep their masks on.



But I had seen some ABs, paranoid and wild-eyed, on the bus. I guess some ABs were functional enough to get themselves to safety, but not rational enough to keep a mask on. With a mask on, those same crazy people looked sedate. Exhausted and worn-out, but sedate.



* * *



It was an unreasonable assumption for me to make, but in some part of my brain, I thought that as soon as we got to DIA, I would find our parents. Like they’d be waiting right by the door or something.



But I scanned every masked face in that waiting room. Each of us did, except Max, who was asleep in his stroller.



“They’re not here,” Batiste said, voicing exactly what I’d been thinking.



“I know,” I said. “But maybe inside. Maybe inside…”



* * *



Our little group all sat together in some chairs.



A team of soldiers in hazmat suits with, get this, pads and paper wrote down our names, addresses, and social security numbers, if we knew them.



“Is there some kind of list?” I asked the man who took my information. “Of the survivors? Of the people who are here now?”



“We’re putting it together, kid,” he said. I couldn’t really see his face, but he sounded tired.



He put a bracelet on my wrist. It had a number. He wrote the number down on the pad, next to my name, and he also had an old-fashioned handheld scanner, which he used to scan the barcode on my bracelet.



That was good. I was in the system now. All of us were. That would help our parents find us, it had to.



“The Network still down?” I asked him.



He held up the yellow pad. “What do you think?”



He was ready to move on, but I put a hand on his arm. He pulled it away.



“My brother and four other kids are stranded back at the Greenway in Monument,” I told him. “We need to organize a rescue.”



He snorted.



“You can write a request,” he said. “But the chances are slim.”



“Why?” I asked.



“We’re spread real thin, in case you hadn’t noticed.”



“But they can’t come out because they’re O. And they’re kids. They need help.”



He leaned down and put his mask right up against mine.



He had brown skin and dark eyes. A kind face, but a tired one.



“You know how many refugees have come through here?” he asked me. “Me neither. Nobody does. We’ve lost track. But more than eight hundred thousand. Eight hundred thousand people, kid. We can hardly take care of the people we have here. We don’t need to go getting any more.”



When he said those things to me, I cried. I knew he was right and I knew we’d never get anyone to go back for you.



I cried then, good and long. Sahalia held me like I was a little kid, and I didn’t even care.



We wouldn’t be able to go back for you, Dean.



* * *



Every 45 minutes, a soldier would come and shout out a bunch of numbers.



People would look at their bracelet, to see if it was their number being called.



Then the ones called would stand up and take all their stuff, and go to the big double doors.



It was always 30 males and 30 females. We had been told we’d all be decontaminated in a big group shower and then given new clothes and gear.



After we waited for a while, it was our turn.



We all stood up and went over to the door, with the other people whose numbers had been listed.



Sahalia took my hand and held on to it tight.



Niko pushed Max in his stroller. He looked scared.



They had 2 soldiers (in hazmat suits) checking names off a shared master (paper) list.



When it got to us, they stopped Niko.



“That kid needs to go to medical,” one said, pointing to Max. But we’d seen people getting taken away to medical. They were separated from their families and had to go alone. Max had outright refused.



“He’s okay,” Niko said. “I can take care of him.”



“Suit yourself,” answered the soldier.



Niko picked Max up and carried him in, leaving the bloody, mucky stroller.



* * *



We were now in a weird, flexible hallway. It was tall and oval shaped—like we were in a vacuum cleaner hose. Airtight, obviously. It was big, too—3 people could easily walk side by side in it.



A little ways down, the hallway branched in two and the men/boys and women/girls were being separated.



Sahalia started to panic.



“Don’t worry,” I told her. “We’ll find you on the other side.”



“Promise?”



“Promise.”



“Really?” she said, and her fingers clutched onto my jacket.



“We’ll find you, Sahalia,” I vowed.



She nodded with tears in her eyes and went off with the women and girls.



* * *



We were herded into a big, big bubble room. It was shaped like a giant tangerine, and the things dividing the segments of the tangerine were flexible, white plastic pipes. There was a circle of them around the room and each came up to the center of the bubble, where it hung down with a showerhead on the end of it.



Five large bins with lids stood in the corner, next to a stack of plastic stools.



Four more soldiers in hazmat suits were waiting for us.



A soldier set a plastic stool in front of Niko for Max to sit on. That was kind. He did the same for a couple other people, who looked worse for wear.



“Leave your masks on,” one commanded us.



Would we ever get to take them off?



The soldier handed each of us a plastic Ziploc bag.



“Place any valuables and ID you have into this bag and put your name on it. You’ll get it on the other side.”