J. Mitchell - Midnight City

Zoey stepped into the tent and knelt down at the boy’s side. Not because Zoey wanted to, but because she was compelled to. There was something here for her, she just had no idea what. Elizabeth didn’t try and stop her.

Zoey’s heart beat heavy in her chest, thumping in her ears. Her hands shook. Pressure built in her head, behind her eyes. Her vision blurred. Time seemed to slow. There was something here for her. What am I supposed to do?

Surrender, the answer came.

Zoey closed her eyes, let the current take her where it would.

The world receded. She felt her hands rise, one resting on the boy’s chest, one covering Elizabeth’s hands. But she wasn’t sure it was really her moving them. From far off, as the world started to go white, and everything dissolved away, she could barely hear Elizabeth’s voice say, “I’m scared….”

And then it happened.

Be free. The words filled Zoey’s mind… and everything went white.

THE SUN WAS SETTING on the other side of the river, and Holt was still sorting through the ammo bucket. The kids had brought him the nonperishables (mostly jerky), the sunblock, and the water purifier. He was digging out the last of the 12-gauge shotgun shells from the bucket when a scream ripped the air.

His head snapped up at the sound, eyes coming to rest on the closed tent he’d seen earlier.

Only it wasn’t closed anymore. It was open. And every kid on the Delirium was running toward it.

Then he noticed something genuinely alarming. Zoey was nowhere to be seen.

Instinctively, he looked up at Mira at the other end of the deck, trading for artifacts. She gave him a questioning glance.

Holt cursed under his breath. He’d totally forgotten about Zoey in his excitement over the ammo. He was on his feet instantly, moving for the tent. Had the little girl done something? What could she do? She was eight years old at most.

Holt made it to the tent in a few strides. There was a commotion inside, the kids of the Delirium packed around the entrance. More were on their way, he saw, from the other boats of the trading post. An older girl pushed out of the tent excitedly, and while she was definitely upset, she wasn’t angry or frightened. To Holt she seemed… ecstatic.

Among everyone, he saw Stephanie, the Trade Master, shoving to the head of the surging crowd.

“There was a flash and then it was gone!” the girl yelled at Stephanie and the others. “I watched it dissolve from his eyes! Look at my eyes!” She pointed at them, and there were gasps from the kids surrounding the tent.

“That can’t be,” Stephanie said, not bothering to hide her astonishment. “It just can’t.”

“It is!” the older girl insisted. “Look at Jim! Look at him!”

“What’s going on?” Holt asked. He could feel Mira moving for him at the other end of the boat, but she was still far away.

The others spun around, staring at Holt. It was Stephanie who spoke up. “Jim was one of ours, the Tone took him three days ago,” she began. “Elizabeth convinced us to hold him until it took her, too, so they could go to the Presidium together. They were hiding in the tent—we didn’t want anyone to see.”

Holt understood. Some people got real tense around the Succumbed, not seeing much of a difference between them and the Assembly. They were under alien control, after all.

“So, you’re keeping him here,” Holt replied. He tried to peer past the kids into the tent, but they were crammed too tightly around it. “It’s not smart, but it’s none of my business. Where’s Zoey?”

“That’s just it,” Stephanie said. “Elizabeth claims your friend Zoey… cured her and Jim of the Tone.”

It took a moment for that statement to fully and completely connect in Holt’s mind. Then the weight of it hit him: Cured… the Tone ?

“That’s not possible,” he managed to say. But something told Holt that it was more than possible. And that if it was, Zoey would be the one who could do it.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Stephanie replied. She nodded to Elizabeth. “But here we are. Elizabeth’s eyes were almost solid black yesterday.” Stephanie turned back to the tent, “Move out of the way,” she ordered. “Let us inside. Move!”

The crowd parted for her, allowing a view inside the tent, and Stephanie gasped.

Zoey sat at the far end. When Holt managed to see inside, her eyes were already on him. But that wasn’t what had stunned Stephanie and the others. It was the older boy, who was now sitting up on his sleeping bag, his head in his hands.

“Jim!” Stephanie exclaimed. The boy looked up at her, groggily. Looked up at her with his perfectly clear eyes. Holt was stunned at the sight. The world stopped as the reality hit him.

It was just as the girl had said. The Tone’s effect was gone. Somehow… Zoey had reversed it.

“How’d you do it?” Stephanie asked, her gaze moving from Jim to Zoey.

“I don’t know,” was all Zoey said.

The kids stared at her. They were speechless. But only for a second. Then they started clamoring for Zoey’s attention, begging her to do the same for them. To cure them.

They pushed forward almost as one, like a mad, desperate wave.

They weren’t children anymore; they were something less. Something scary. They sensed survival, right in that tent, and they wanted it for themselves.

For the first time since they had met—a time that had seen Zoey crash-land in a spacecraft, on the run from various Assembly factions, and barely avoiding plasma cannon fire and death—Holt saw terror in the little girl’s eyes.

“Holt!” Zoey cried as the others grabbed and pulled at her.

He lunged forward, grabbed Zoey, and hoisted her up with one fluid motion onto his shoulders. The little girl held on, arms wrapped around his neck as Holt forced his way out of the tent and moved quickly for the riverbank.

The kids followed after him desperately, dozens of them, from all different crews and origins. “Wait! Wait! ” they shouted.

“She can save us!”

“We’ll trade anything!”

“Just have her help us!”

“Please!”

They tried to stop Holt, to pull him down, to yank Zoey from his back.

“Get off!” Holt yelled. It didn’t matter. They kept coming, incensed now. How was he going to get out of this? He looked around, saw Mira was already headed for the nearest exit. It was the smart thing to do; she could meet up with them back on dry land. Assuming they made it—the crowd was growing bigger and bigger, and soon everyone in the trading post would be trying to bring them down. What was he going to—?

From the near distance came an awful sound.

A powerful, distorted bellowing, like eerie, electronic whale song, but much more menacing. It was incredibly loud, echoing across the river valley, back and forth. Seconds later, another bellowing answered it, from a different direction.

Everyone stopped, even Holt, Zoey still on his back. They all looked around blindly. But there was nothing to see in the fading light or in the trees flanking the river.

Holt had heard those sounds before. He imagined many of these survivors had. And he knew what they meant: big, scary trouble.

“They’re here,” Zoey whispered into his ear.

The sounds came again… moaning on the other side of the river. The trees along the bank shook as something massive pushed through them, toppling them as if they were twigs, with huge footfalls and the violent splitting of wood.

Trees tumbled over into the river as two red Spider walkers walked powerfully into view on top of them. And the blood of everyone on the trading post went to ice.