AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What?” I ask, climbing down into the hold. Indie points at a spot near the floor, concealed earlier by the cases. Someone has scratched into the metal of the ship and carved images into the walls. It reminds me of the pictures back in the Carving.
“They’re drinking the sky,” Indie says.
She’s right. It’s not rain that the picture shows, not like one I drew once back in the Borough. It’s different—broken pieces of sky falling to the ground and people picking them up and tipping water out of them.
“It makes me thirsty,” Indie says.
“Look,” I say, pointing to the figure coming down from the sky. “Who do you think this is?”
“The Pilot, of course,” she says.
“Did you draw these?” I ask Caleb, who’s appeared at the top of the hold, ready for more cargo.
“Draw what?” he asks.
“The pictures carved into the side of the ship. ”
“No,” he says. “It must have been one of the other runners. I’d never vandalize the Rising’s property. ”
I hand up another case.
We finish our delivery and head for the ship. As we walk, Indie falls back. I turn around to see her talking to Caleb. He shakes his head. Indie steps closer to him. She’s lifted her chin and I know exactly what her eyes must look like.
She’s challenging him about something.
Caleb shakes his head again. His posture looks tense.
“Tell me,” I hear Indie saying. “Now. We should know. ”
“No,” he says. “You’re not even the pilot on this flight. Leave it alone. ”
“Ky’s flying,” she says. “He had to come all the way here, back to his home Province. Do you know how hard that must be? What if you had to go back to Keya, or wherever it is that you’re from? He should at least know what we’re doing. ”
“We’re bringing in supplies,” he says.
“That’s not all we’re doing,” she says.
He steps around her. “If the Pilot wanted you to know,” he says over his shoulder, “you would. ”
“You know you’re nothing more than a runner, even to the Pilot,” Indie says. “He doesn’t think of you as his. ”
Caleb takes a step back and I see hatred on his face for Indie.
Because she’s right. She knows what Caleb hopes for. It’s the dream of every parentless, orphaned worker of the Rising—to make the Pilot so proud that he’d claim them as his own kin. It’s Indie’s dream too.
Indie finds me later out in the field near the camp. She sits down and takes a deep breath. At first I think she’s going to try to make me feel better by talking about things that don’t matter, but Indie has never been very good at that.
“We could try it,” she says. “We could make a run for Central if you want. ”
“It’s not an option,” I say. “The fighters would shoot us down. ”
“You’d try it if it weren’t for me,” Indie says.
“Yes,” I agree. “And Caleb. ” I’m finished with the selfishness that let me leave everyone behind on the plains and take only Vick and Eli into the Carving. Caleb is part of our group. When I fly, he’s my responsibility. I can’t risk him either. Cassia wouldn’t want other people to die just so I could find her.
And if the Pilot is telling the truth, it doesn’t matter. The Plague’s under control. Everything will be all right soon, and I can find Cassia and we can be together. I want to believe in the Pilot. Sometimes I do.
“Back in camp, when we were training,” I say, “did you ever fly with him?”
“Yes,” Indie says simply. “That’s how I knew he was the Pilot, even before they told us. His flying . . . ” She stops, at a loss for words, and then her face brightens. “It was like the picture we saw today carved into the ship,” she says. “It felt like I was drinking the sky. ”
“So you trust him?” I ask.
Indie nods.
“But you’d still run the risk of going to Central with me. ”
“Yes,” Indie says, “if that’s what you wanted. ” She looks at me as if she’s trying to see inside me. I’d like her to smile. That beautiful, wide, wise, innocent, devious smile of hers.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“I want to see you smile,” I tell her.
And then she does—sudden, delighted—and I grin back.
The grass rustles with the breeze. Indie leans a little closer. Her face is radiant and hopeful and raw. It feels like some new hole has been torn in my heart.
“What’s to keep us from flying together?” Indie whispers. “You and me?” I can barely hear her above the wind rustling the grass, but I know the way this question sounds from her. She’s asked something like it before.
“Cassia,” I say. “I’m in love with Cassia. You know that. ” There’s no uncertainty in my voice.
