J. Mitchell - Midnight City

“I know it looks like I’ll be hurt, Holt,” she said, “but I promise… I won’t. I can see how things work now. I don’t have all the answers, but I have a sense of things. I kind of know who I am. And what I have to do. But to do those things, I need your help. I need you to believe , Holt. It’s the only way we’re ever going to make it.”

Holt kept his grip on her arm. He had no idea what to say. “Zoey—”

“I can help you, Holt,” she said before he could finish. “I can find your hope again. I can show you that great things can happen. Even right now. ” Holt looked at the little girl, listening to the calm, assured words that came from her. She had never spoken this way before, and something about it was… comforting somehow. “But I need you to let me go. I need you to trust me, Holt. You’ve trusted me before.” Her eyes held Holt’s intently. “Trust me again.”

Holt watched her with a contorted mix of emotions. Trust Zoey, Mira had said. So had the Librarian. A part of him, what was left of who he used to be, wanted to do just that. But could he? Could he gamble again, after everything he’d already lost?

The laser continued to cut the door. It was almost through now. The dam shook outside, screams of pain mixed with triumphant, electronic bellowing echoed in. Another pane of glass shattered right next to them.

“Let me go, Holt,” Zoey said gently. “Let me go, and everything will be all right.”

Holt felt his hands shake as they slowly began to loosen their grip on Zoey. It wasn’t a completely conscious decision. It was more like some other part was driving him, a subconscious part that had maybe put the pieces together on its own. Either way… he couldn’t believe he was doing it.

It felt wrong. Incredibly wrong. The grief and guilt he felt a second ago were gone, replaced with a muted horror as he watched his hands let go of Zoey.

When she was free, the little girl reached out and touched his face gently… then scaled the ladder, climbing up through the ceiling. Max whined fearfully as he watched her go.

“Zoey…,” Holt called after her, his voice barely audible. She didn’t look back. He watched her climb through and disappear outside, amid the flurry of plasma bolts streaking by everywhere.

To his left, the laser had almost cut a complete line through the door’s hinges, but Holt didn’t notice. Explosions flared outside again, and he shut his eyes, sank his head into his hands. God, what had he just done? What had he done?…

ZOEY WALKED SLOWLY ALONG the roof of the old control center, feeling the hard concrete beneath her feet. She saw the missiles and the yellow bolts and the debris flying through the air all around her, but she didn’t really hear any of it.

To her, it seemed like she was moving in slow motion toward the edge of the roof, and everything was calm and tranquil, and there was no sound. Just the feelings, deep in the background of her mind, but she could sense them easily now. They weren’t closed to her anymore.

The Oracle, in showing Zoey her past, had removed a block of some kind. It was as the Librarian had said. The feelings were tied to her memories, because memories were what made people who they are. She didn’t have all the answers yet, but she knew which questions to ask… and she knew where she needed to ask them.

But that was for later. Right now, people she cared about were in danger. Their time was almost up.

The roof came to an end at her feet in a sheer drop down the massive height of the dam’s main wall. Plasma fire streaked all around her, but none of it hit her. None of it even came close. And Zoey knew it wouldn’t.

Below her, she could see the entire battlefield, filled with Assembly Spider walkers obliterating what was left of the Midnight City defenders. Raptors roared through the sky, their cannons flashing, blanketing everything in fire.

Zoey stared at all of it calmly, without fear. She called for the feelings buried somewhere inside herself, and this time she knew they would answer. When they came, they flooded her with strength and peace. And then they waited.

Waited for her.

It would always be her decision, Zoey knew. Always her choice. And in that as well, the Librarian had been right. She wasn’t sure what the feelings really were yet, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was they were there.

Zoey took a long, deep breath. She closed her eyes and let herself go.

She sank into the flowing river that was the feelings, let it take her where it wished. She felt her hands rise at her sides. The feelings guided her, showed her where to look, and she reached out with her senses. When she did… she felt what the feelings intended. She felt the dam’s pieces and parts, the old mechanics that used to drive it, the generators that once controlled its enormous power.

And she knew what to do with all of it.

HOLT SAT WITH HIS head sunk in his hands. Mira lay silent and motionless in his lap, staring blankly up at the ceiling with black eyes.

The laser was sizzling in the door, almost through. The Seekers would pour inside soon, and when they did, that would be that. Holt was fine with it; he just wanted it done now. Wanted it over.

Beyond the windows, there were more explosions, more bellows, more roaring Raptors. Zoey was surely dead: there was no way she could survive outside in all of that. No one could.

And then, in front of him, at the other end of the concrete room… one of the control banks sparked.

Holt looked up from his hands at it, confused. Why would—?

Another spark. More. Lights flashed on the terminals; buttons began to illuminate. One of the monitors burst apart but the others flickered as they started to come back to life. Somehow, the dam’s controls were powering up.

Holt stared at all of it in awe. It was impossible. The machines had died long ago; their circuits must all be rusted and broken. There was no way they could work.

From beneath him, he heard a rumbling. Deep and powerful, and it vibrated the concrete floor as it began to build.

It couldn’t be. Could it? Could Zoey—?

The cutting laser flashed off, and the door shook in its frame.

Max barked wildly, and Holt lunged to his feet and slammed into the door, driving it back right before it fell open.

He heard a furious buzzing on the other side, felt the door shake as the Seekers tried to ram it open. It was just a piece of wood without hinges now, and the only thing keeping them out was Holt.

He looked back to the controls, watched them continue to light up and glow through all the dust and grime that had collected on them over the years. Beneath him, the rumbling continued to build.

Holt pushed back against the door with all the strength he had left, trying to hold on. Before, he would have let the machines pour inside and tear them to pieces, but now… now he felt a spark of something almost forgotten: hope. And he held on to it for all he was worth.

DEEP INSIDE THE BOWELS of the dam, its old, broken pieces and parts began to reanimate, like the organs of some long-dead metallic creature that was being resuscitated. And it wasn’t a smooth process.

Turbines lining a huge dust-caked room sprayed sparks in torrents as their components turned and spun. Gears that had long ago been rusted into singular pieces groaned angrily as they were forced to rip apart. Electricity popped and fizzled through frayed wires. Fire exploded from vents and grates along the walls. Metal whined as it tore and bent itself in an effort to function once again.

And all through the dam, the sound of a rumbling grew, louder and louder, as more and more of the old machinery inexplicably began to reactivate.