“I have to believe it,” I say. Because if I don’t believe in the Rising and their cure, what hope is there for Cassia?
“She’ll be fine,” Indie says. “She’s part of the Rising. They’ll take care of her.”
I hope that Indie’s right. Cassia wanted to join the Rising, and so I followed her. But now all I care about is finding Cassia and leaving all of this behind—Society, Rising, Pilot, Plague—as soon as we can.
From above, the rebellion against the Society looks black and white. Black night, white barricade around the center of Grandia City.
Indie drops us lower to prepare for landing.
“Go first,” our commander tells us. “Show the others how it’s done.” Indie’s supposed to land the ship inside the barricade on the street in front of City Hall. It’s going to be tight.
Closer to the earth. Closer. Closer. Closer. The world rushes at us. Somewhere, the Pilot is watching.
Black ships, white marble buildings.
Indie hits the ground smoothly, greasing the landing. I watch her expression. It’s one of closely guarded triumph until the ship stops and she glances over at me. Then she smiles—pure joy—and hits the controls that open the door to the ship.
“Pilots, stay with your ships,” the commander says. “Copilot and runner, get the cures out.”
Caleb hoists up cases from the hold and we each shoulder two of them.
“You first,” he says, and I duck through the door and start running the second I’m down the stairs. The Rising has cleared a path through the crowd of people and it’s a straight shot to the medical center. It’s almost quiet, except for the sound of the fighters covering us above. I keep my head down, but out of the corner of my eye I see Rising officers in black holding back the Officials wearing white.
Keep moving. That’s not only what the Rising has asked us to do—it’s my own personal rule. So I keep going, even when I hear what’s coming across the ports in the medical center.
Now that I know the Pilot’s voice, I can tell that it’s him singing. And I know the song. The Anthem of the Society. You can tell by the way the Pilot sings it that the Anthem has now become a requiem—a song for the dead.
I’m back in the Outer Provinces. My hands are black and the rocks are red. Vick and I work on figuring out a way to make the guns fire back. The other decoys gather gunpowder to help us. They sing the Anthem of the Society while they work. It’s the only song they know.
“Here,” a woman in Rising black says, and Caleb and I follow her past rows and rows of people lying still on stretchers in the foyer of the medical center. She opens the door to a storage room and gestures us inside.
“Put them on the table,” she says, and we comply.
The Rising officer scans the cases we’ve brought with her miniport and it beeps. She keys in a code to unlock the cases. The pressurized air inside makes a hiss as it escapes and the lid opens.
Inside are rows and rows of cures in red tubes.
“Beautiful,” she says. Then she looks up at Caleb and me. “Go back for the rest,” she says. “I’ll send some of my officers out to help you.”
On the way out, I risk a glance down at a patient’s face. Blank eyes. Body still.
The man’s face looks empty and undone. Is there even a person inside? How far deep has he gone? What if he knows what’s happening but he’s trapped there waiting?
My skin crawls. I couldn’t do it. I have to move.
I’d rather die than be down like that.
For the first time, I feel something like loyalty to the Rising stir inside of me. If this is what the Rising has saved me from, then maybe I do owe them something. Not the rest of my life, but a few runs of the cure. And now that I’ve seen the sick, I can’t compromise their access to the one thing that can help them.
My mind races. The Rising should get control over the trains and bring cures in that way, too. They’d better have someone good working on the logistics of getting the cure out. Maybe that’s Cassia’s job.
And this is mine.
I’ve changed since I ran off to the Carving and left the decoys to die. I’ve changed because of everything I’ve seen since then, and because of Cassia. I can’t leave people behind again. I have to keep running in this damn cure even if it means I can’t get to Cassia as soon as I’d like.
Back on the ship, I slide into the copilot’s seat and Caleb climbs on board after me.
“Wait,” Indie says. “What’s that you have?”
Caleb’s still holding one of the cases.
“They need all the cures,” Indie says.
“This is cargo we’re supposed to bring back with us,” Caleb says, holding up the case for us to see, which doesn’t prove anything. It looks exactly like the ones we just took out. “It’s part of the errand.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Indie says, sounding suspicious.
“Why would you?” Caleb asks. Something in his tone sounds dismissive. “You’re the pilot. Not the runner.”
“Indie,” our commander says. “Come in.”
“We’re all here,” Indie says, “but we’ve got some extra cargo. Our runner brought back a case.”
“That’s approved,” the commander says. “Is there anything else?”
“No,” Indie says. “We’re all clear.” She glances over at me and I shrug. Apparently they’re not going to tell us anything more about Caleb’s second errand.
We wait for the other ships to take their turns departing from the street in front of the buildings. The computer sends us code again for our destination. Indie reaches for it first.
“Where now?” I ask her, even though I think I know what she’ll say.
“Back to Camas,” she says, “to get more of the cure.”
“And then?” I ask.
“Then we come here again. This is our route, for now.” There’s a hint of sympathy in her voice. “Someone else will take cures to Central.”
“They’d better,” I say. I don’t care if the Pilot hears. In fact, I hope he does. Why not? Long ago people used to say what they wanted out loud and hope that someone would give it to them. They called it praying.
Cassia has something tangible though—the papers from the Carving. She’s only used a few of them to send messages. There must be plenty left for her to use for whatever she needs, maybe even enough to bargain for a cure. Cassia knows how to trade.