World After

32

THE INJURED scorpions notice me right away. My heart practically stops when they turn and hiss at me.

I can almost feel the excruciating pain of the sting, the panic of losing control of my body while still conscious. The thought of having to go through that again makes me run so hard I think I might pass out.

In my freaked-out state, I don’t pay enough attention to my footing and I slip on blood.

I catch myself from falling by doing an awkward dance of hand and sword balancing.

Focus.

Do not let the scorpions hurt you twice just because you’re freaking over the possibility.

I shove everything—fear, hope, thoughts—into the vault in my head and slam the door shut before they explode back out. It’s getting trickier to open that vault door.

The only thing in the world now is my path to the prisoners’ container. I rub the sole of my shoe on the ground to wipe off the blood.

For all their hissing and screeching, the injured scorpions stay down. I keep an eye on them to make sure they’re not crawling toward me.

Before I walk into the circle of light, I look around to make sure there are no scorpions, angels, or winged rats headed my way. It doesn’t help that my eyes are already adjusting to the light, making the shadows that much darker.

I dive into the light like I’m jumping into water.

I feel instantly exposed.

Anyone on the pier can see me now. I run as fast as I can to the still-standing light by the metal jail. All the prisoners quiet down as if holding their collective breaths.

The key is not on the standing work light or anywhere near it.

I look back at the flashing lamp that Beliel threw on the pier. The key could have flown off anywhere.

Either I commit to looking for it in this sea of splintered planks, or I give up and make sure Mom and Clara get out of here safely.

Or, I could see if my sword can cut through metal.

It easily cut through bones during my dream training, and it’s supposed to be so special. Before I can think about it, I lift the sword and slice down.

The blade easily cuts through the lock and the gate’s metal tab.

Whoa.

Not bad.

I lift my sword for the second lock. But before I can cut it, there’s a rustling behind me.

I spin with my sword still above me, half-convinced an injured scorpion has crawled over, ready to strike.

But it’s not an injured scorpion.

It’s a healthy one.

It folds its gossamer wings as if it just landed. It stalks toward me, barefoot on its much too human-like feet. Somehow, I might feel better if they had clawed feet or something else that made them look less human.

Two more scorpion angels land behind the first one.

There’s only one more lock. I spin around and chop at it with my blade.

It comes flying off. The chain-link gate hangs open now. All they have to do is roll it up and run.

Instead, the prisoners huddle in the back, frozen in terror.

“Come on!” I slam on the side of the container to shock them into action. “Run!”

I don’t wait to see if they do. I’ve just put Mom and Clara in danger of a horrifying death. I could kick myself for not convincing them to leave without me.

The gate rattles behind my back.

The freed prisoners begin to run, scattering everywhere, their footsteps pounding on the wooden pier.

I run in the opposite direction of Mom and Clara, hoping to draw the scorpions away from them.

Then I hear my mother.

She screams a bloodcurdling screech of terror.