Nick James - Skyship Academy

I crawl around a steep dune and look to the far wall of the training facility. Eva’s head rises from behind another dune, a dark dot in the distance. I look down at the small valley in between us. Chan stands in the center, looking frantically around.

For a moment I feel bad for the kid, up against two Year Nines with belts full of detonators. It must be pretty scary. Then I remember what Captain Alkine always says. No mercy for the enemy. I can’t empathize with the kid. I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do.

So I attack, lunging forward and throwing one detonator after another. They explode well in front of Chan, shooting puffs of sand up from the ground. Mass embarrassing.

Then, two things happen at once. Eva hurls a detonator with laser precision behind the kid and I know it’ll hit him square in the back. Unaware of his impending doom, Chan chucks a detonator at me. I try to dart out of the way but it’s too quick. I shouldn’t have been watching Eva.

The detonator barrels straight for my chest and explodes. I have just enough time to see Chan knocked out of the game before I collapse to the ground and stay there, unmoving.

– -

Swirls of green mist cloud around me. At first I’m convinced that Mr. Wilson has changed the training program. But as I stumble to my feet, I realize that I’m not in the training room at all. I’m not even in a Skyship.

My chest throbs. Whether it’s from the detonator or something else I can’t tell. I’m not sure I’m awake-or conscious.

A broken city stretches around me. Charred skeletons of skyscrapers disappear into the mist. Empty streets give way to derelict buildings, their windows blown out. Piles of brick litter the ground. There are no people, no cars even. Only the thick, green mist.

I quickly realize that I’m on the Surface, but it’s not the same as Syracuse. There’s a coarseness to the air. Each passing breeze grates on my skin. The temperature’s mild. Cold, even.

I stand alone, as if a giant hand wiped everything away around me. I stagger forward, dizzy. The mist fogs out every detail except for jagged shadows of the buildings. I give into panic for a moment, unsure of how to find my way out.

Then I hear a noise to the right of me, coming from a nearby alleyway. Whispering. Voices.

Eager to find help, I follow it. Even if this is just a dream, I know I don’t want to be here. My fingers cut through the mist and I stumble forward to see who’s there, but the persistent fog bars my way.

The voices fade. I stop in the middle of the intersection and look down at my chest. A silver key rests on my white shirt.

And then, a shadow.

Something behind me. Someone.

I start to cough as the mist pours down my throat. My legs feel numb, as if they haven’t been used in years. My head drops. Dead weight. Then the world becomes a blur and all I can see is green.

– -

I wake with a start, lying in a pile of sand in the middle of the training field. My body feels like it’s just been stuck in an electric socket, but it’s my chest that’s the worst. A carefully aimed detonator will do that.

Mr. Wilson kneels at my side. I must’ve been out long enough for him to come down from the balcony. “Jeez, Fisher.” He shakes his head. “It was only a detonator. You’ve gotta toughen up a little.”

Skandar and Eva stand off to the side, staring down at me. The Year Sevens are nowhere to be seen, thank god. Suddenly, the humiliation of the whole situation dawns on me and I bury my face in my hands and fight back tears, which makes the whole thing even more embarrassing. If this had been a real combat mission, I’d probably have been left for dead.

Mr. Wilson pats my shoulder, the first sympathetic move he’s made today, and turns to the others. “I want you all in homeroom for debriefing in twenty minutes.” He strolls off, leaving the firing squad to assess their fallen comrade.

“Great job, mate.” Skandar barely contains his chuckle.

Paulina Sterner pushes him. “He lasted longer than you, didn’t he?”

Skandar grunts. “Dumb luck, that’s all.”

I fold into a fetal position.

Eva crosses her arms. “I gotta hand it to you, Fisher. Even though you missed Chan completely, which is pretty pathetic considering the amount of detonators you threw at him, at least you showed some fighting spirit.”

Skandar reaches down to help me up but I push him away. I just wanna lie here. That way I can pretend this never happened. The fact that it feels like a truck’s just been driven into my chest doesn’t really give me the opportunity.

“Whatever.” Skandar withdraws his hand. “I’m gonna go hit the showers.” He waves goodbye. Paulina and Manjeet leave too, now that the spectacle’s over.

Eva lingers. “You just gonna lie there?”

“Go away,” I mutter into the sand. It’s better to give up, chalk it up to fate. Even when I try not to make a fool of myself, the universe still finds some way to kick me in the butt. Other kids would have family to comfort them, to go on and on about how mass special they were. I’ve got Eva, standing over me like a disappointed bodyguard.

“You know, you can’t keep doing this, acting like a baby when things don’t go your way.” She waits for a response, but I don’t give her one. So with one final disapproving sigh, she walks away, leaving me alone in the middle of the empty battlefield.

Two a.m. Any sane person would be asleep by now. I am decidedly in sane.

I sit upright in my bed. I gave up on sleep twenty minutes ago. My body wants to droop into the mattress and shut down, but my mind’s going 300 miles per hour.

Every time I close my eyes I’m filled with images of that dead, mist-clogged city-the key around my neck, the figure behind me.

I glance around my darkened bedroom. Shadows cover the walls like toothed monsters. The floor’s dotted with piles of clothing and junk. It’s an obstacle course to get to the bed without stepping on something.

I toss the covers from my legs and throw on the first pair of shorts I can find. Time to roam the corridors until I’m too exhausted to move. Time to fool my body into submission.

Slipping out the doorway, I turn down the hall past dozens of closed doors and make my way to the outside corridor. Moonlight streams in through the wall of curved windows. The stars are impossibly bright.

I head up the stairway to the fifth level, in search of another night owl whiling away the early morning hours in one of the rec rooms. After clearing the first flight of stairs, I freeze.

Rumbling. Just beyond the entryway to the fourth level, echoing along the hallway. It sounds for a second longer-low, crackling-and stops. Footsteps.

I tiptoe to the entryway and peer around the side of the wall, staring down the empty hallway. Level Four’s mostly living quarters, but at its center sits the largest of the Academy’s three research laboratories.

Just as I’m about to move, the rumbling returns, softer this time. I step forward, inching down the hallway in pursuit of the sound. For a second I wonder if it’s coming from a bedroom. It sounds like snoring, but the dorm walls are much too thick. No one snores that loudly.

No, it’s coming from the end of the hallway.

The rumbling stops again. I pause and glance around the vacant hallway, expecting someone to jump out and grab me.

Silence.

I venture forward, turn a corner and head deeper into the center of the ship. A lighting tube crackles above my head, burnt out. I listen for the sound, but everything’s quiet. Quiet as the stars.

Then I see movement at the end of the corridor. A door opens. A person steps outside. I flatten against the wall, hoping I won’t be seen. But it’s too late. The figure takes a few nervous glances around and sneaks down the hallway, right toward me.