Nick James - The Pearl wars

Eva sighs. “The Academy’s not your enemy, Jesse.”

“Yeah,” Skandar says. “Alkine’s worried sick.”

I scoff. “Alkine doesn’t get worried.”

Eva nods, her eyes pleading with me to understand. “I know. And that’s the scary thing.”

I bow my head, getting lost in the Pearl energy, and try to convince myself that everything’s fine. But I can’t ignore the cruisers back in Lenbrg, or Cassius’s grim determination to find me. This isn’t just some fancy scavenger hunt amidst the ruins. There are weapons involved. Armies.

I should be worried. I should be mass worried.

Cassius laid on the accelerator, propelling the sports car up the side of the mountain pass. He’d found a gun under the passenger seat and used it to snatch a canister of water and a quick meal from a pair of Fringers on the outskirts of the nearest town. He’d dumped the guy’s body from the trunk as well. Less weight in the car.

Now he sped along a narrow road between miles of dry forest, much of it blackened by continual fires. The Northern Cascades-once a lush, snow-clogged drive to Seattle, now a thinning forest fire waiting to happen.

He felt strange sitting behind the wheel of a car. The warm breeze pushed against his face through the half-open window. Families used to take trips in automobiles before the Chosen Cities-radio blasting, hands sticking up out of the sunroof. Now everyone crowded onto the Chute system, except those lucky enough to afford a shuttle of their own. Driving felt all right. Freeing.

He drank from the water canister before dropping it onto the seat beside him. The motor puttered up the steep incline. He prayed it wouldn’t give out entirely. Still, if he had to get out and push the fraggin’ thing, he’d do it. The sooner he got to Seattle, the sooner this nightmare would be over.

Suddenly, he saw movement in the forest ahead of him. He slowed down slightly, peering out the dust-caked window.

Then, a heavy whoosh. The trees crashed to the left of his car, bending forward to let something through. He watched as a large, dark shape flew through the forest up into the air, casting a shadow against the hood of his car.

He slowed to a stop as a boulder the size of an oven smashed into the pavement, fracturing the already busted road and nearly pancaking the front end of the car in the process.

The trees settled back into place, swaying gently in the breeze. All was quiet and still.

Breathing hard, he stared at the giant rock blocking the center of the pathway up the mountain. He looked at the sky, half-expecting something else to fall. But the boulder hadn’t come from the heavens. People had done this. He wasn’t sure how, but he wasn’t alone on the mountain.

He grabbed the gun from beside him, surveying the woods.

Nothing.

With one hand on the wheel he backed up, swerving to the left. Shifting gears, he curved around the right side of the boulder, darting his head from window to window.

Halfway around the rock, a gunshot rang out from the forest and nicked the corner of his bumper.

He sped up immediately, rocketing around the boulder and back onto the road. A second shot shattered the passenger window. Glass spilled onto the seat. He ducked, car weaving as he tried to stay on the road with one steering arm and limited vision.

He glanced at the rearview mirror and watched as several gangly figures bounded out from the trees onto the road, running after him. He kept his head low and stomped down on the accelerator, flying up the hill as fast as the car would take him. The figures fired shot after shot, some of which hit the back of his trunk. Others ricocheted off the pavement. He longed for one of the government’s concussion grenades, or even a proper shotgun instead of the peashooter he held now.

He kept a constant, breakneck speed, whipping around a cluster of dying trees before straightening out once more. Then he saw it, half a mile ahead, stretched across the road. A wooden barrier. It was at least a foot thick, with two words carved in jagged marks on the bark. Cascadia Territory. It’d crush the car no matter how fast he was going.

Two choices: stop the vehicle and defend himself, or off-road it.

He glanced over to the right. The forest ended, replaced by a vast rocky basin-an evaporated lake, no doubt.

Without giving himself time to reconsider, he swerved to the right, flying off the highway and down to the basin. The car was airborne for no more than a second before smacking into the dirt. Hard.

His chest bashed into the wheel as the front tires bounced on the rock, but he managed to keep control and steer the vehicle safely into the basin. Once he was level again, he gunned it, kicking up dirt and rock as he sped onward-a tiny red insect in the middle of a massive, empty hole in the Earth.

Lucky for him, the Cascadians hadn’t booby-trapped the basin. The chances of someone being reckless enough to try and steer their way through the uneven landscape were too slight. But Cassius had exploded twice in the past week. Nothing was too reckless anymore.

He took a quick right to avoid an outcropping ahead of him, which led him up a mound of rocks that sent the car flying through the sky once more. He landed with a crash, bumping his head on the ceiling.

Once he was a mile beyond the barrier, he headed back for the highway, climbing up over the gentlest slope he could find and tearing through the backyard of what used to be a ski cottage. He rejoined the roadway at a downward slant. Beyond was the West Coast. Within minutes, he’d be off the mountain.

No more bullets or boulders. He’d made it, though the small victory didn’t mean much. The mountain pass would be nothing compared to Seattle. Things were going to change down there, one way or another.

He watched the speedometer soar until he was in triple digits again. The Cascadians were long behind him. He didn’t look back.

After an hour of driving over relentless potholes, our van slows to a stop. The inside of the trailer reeks. In all the run-for-my-life excitement I didn’t realize the smell until we were about twenty minutes out of town. It’s like a skunk took a bath in two-month-old milk. Once we get out of here we’re gonna smell like this for days.

Even worse is the heat. It’s like a dark, smelly sauna. We’re breathing each other’s air, leaving puddles of sweat on the already dirty trailer. A meager stream of air flows in from the cracks in the doorway. I need someone to let us out. Like, now.

The van slows to a stop. I hear footsteps approach outside, then a soft muttering from up front.

“It’s the Cascadians,” Avery whispers.

I nod. “Bobby said something about a toll. We better not be part of it.”

Eva and Skandar exchange confused looks, but don’t press us for information. I steady the Pearl with my ankles, making sure it doesn’t bang against the metal and make any unnecessary noise. “If Barkley opens the door and turns us in, then we run. No questions… just bolt into the forest.”

Eva smirks. “Look who’s giving orders now.”

We wait and listen. I hear George’s voice, but the words are muffled. There are at least two others outside. One is a woman.

The conversation lasts a few minutes and ends with the slam of a door. The engine rumbles. I breathe a sigh of relief. Getting over these mountains is the first thing that’s gone right all day.

Skandar stretches his arms. “Anybody else think this place needs some in-flight entertainment?”

“Here,” I hand the Pearl to him. “Hold this.”

He cradles it in his arms, staring at the radiant glow coming from within. The van lurches forward. We’re heading down.