I nodded, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. “I can’t either. They told us to leave, but we have flares and masks. We can at least try to help, even if we don’t get too close. There are still people out here!”
“I have one of the sacks,” Robert said hoarsely, turning and showing me the bag of masks he had slung over his back. “I can help shepherd anyone who’s left to the hall.”
I looked at him uncertainly, then toward the aircraft, which seemed to be currently content with staying in one place—hovering directly over the center of our colony—and continuing to unload green bombs. The gas was thickening at a rapid pace. I feared that anyone left unmasked in this area would pass out within minutes.
Luckily, the hall was situated at the corner of the compound, but if the gas kept expanding this quickly, it wouldn’t be long until it reached the area. It wouldn’t matter if our people had locked themselves inside the building; the walls weren’t airtight. The gas would seep through.
I cursed beneath my breath as a hollowness swelled in the pit of my stomach. I had never felt so desperate—so vulnerable, so helpless.
Except, I reminded myself firmly, before I could give in to despair, I was not entirely helpless. Between Robert, Jessie, and me, we had fifteen flares. If Robert headed off with the masks to help anyone who still hadn’t made it to the hall, that still left Jessie and me with ten.
They were weapons that I suspected could be quite deadly if wielded correctly. Whoever was up in that aircraft wasn’t infallible. They were humans, just like us. They could be reached within their metal shell.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” Jessie asked anxiously, clutching Robert’s arm.
Robert nodded stoically, his blue eyes burning with determination as he glared up at the machine. “I’ll manage,” he grated out, though from the slight tremor in his voice, I could tell he was nervous. “It’ll free the two of you up to help shoot that bastard ship down,” he insisted, readjusting the bag over his back.
If I was honest, his reaction surprised me. Robert was one of my best friends, and while I knew he had a big heart, I had never thought of him as a hero; the guy to sacrifice his own safety, willing to walk into a disaster zone to save others’ lives. He was Robert the chef, the good-natured guy whose sassy quips could make even the tightest-lipped of us laugh.
I guessed times of desperation brought out the best or worst in people, and in that moment, I felt a surge of pride in both ofmy friends. I caught Robert’s hand and pulled him into a fierce hug, and then let go, allowing Jessie to do the same.
“Be careful, Robert,” I said. “As soon as you’ve cleared the area, get the hell back to the hall.”
He nodded, then moved to the edge of the platform. Adjusting his bag one last time to check that it was secure, he attached himself to the line and launched off. I stared after his form, which quickly faded into the thickening gas, and then sucked in a breath.
“He’d better stay safe,” Jessie murmured.
I nodded. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of something happening to him.
I looked toward where my father had been standing, just a few moments ago, and saw that all the men had already left the platform. They would have taken the line leading closer to the aircraft… which, I suddenly realized, was also the direction of our dry food storage.
I wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence that the aircraft had chosen to hover directly above that area, but I couldn’t imagine the gas they were unleashing was good for the food. We stockpiled extra grains and nuts for times of the year when harvesting grew more difficult, like in the midst of summer or the heavy rainy season, and the thought of all the blood, sweat, and tears going to waste was like a knife twist to my stomach. Not to mention, we weren’t that far from our main crop fields. If the gas reached and damaged them… I didn’t want to think that far.
Whoever was up there, they werenotgoing to get away with this.
The blood pounded in my ears. I clutched Jessie’s hand and squeezed it. “Okay,” I said softly. “You ready for this? Let’s follow them, see if we can’t act as backup.”
Jessie nodded, straightening her mask anxiously.
We zip lined back the way we had come, with me in the lead. Once we reached the museum’s platform, we switched to the line our fathers had taken and glided deeper into the haze.
The soft popping sound of the strange green balls continued around us. It grew louder the farther we ventured. When we reached the final deck before a round clearing, I stopped before taking the next line. Jessie halted behind me.
The aircraft hovered above the clearing, and we were now directly beneath its outer periphery, close to a cylinder—which was popping out balls over our heads. The thickening gas and the layer of branches above us were the only things hiding us from view.
Sticking to the shadows of the leaves, I crouched down. I strained to make out where the others were.
They were hiding, too. The men had split up into small groups of two or three. Each was positioned in a tree that bordered the clearing.
I caught sight of my father through the gloom. The visor of his helmet was fixed on the machine as one hand gripped a flare, the other a box of matches. I realized his group had surrounded the aircraft. If I wasn’t grossly misjudging the situation, they were seconds away from pulling off a surprise attack. The others gripped flares and matches, too.
None of them had spotted Jessie or me yet. We needed to keep it that way. If either of our fathers realized we were here, the anxiety could throw them off.
I held my breath and was about to suggest to Jessie that we retreat deeper into the shadows to prepare our own flares, just in case, when a dull creaking sound made me stall. It came from the aircraft.
“The balls have stopped,” Jessie whispered.
She was right. The popping noise had faded, replaced with what sounded like groaning metal. I raised my head to peerbetween a crack in the leaves. I saw the cylinders withdrawing into the machine.
