A wide metal hatch opened up. It was a ramp, descending from the aircraft’s underbelly.
Jessie gripped my shoulder, her harried breathing loud in my ears. “What do you think…”
Nine figures emerged on the ramp, wearing suits that were fully black, save for some kind of red mark on the shoulder. They had sleek, silver masks that appeared centuries more advanced than ours over their faces, and bulky harnesses at their waists, which doubled as holders for an array of alarming weapons. Though I recognized guns, I could hardly put a name to the other equipment.
A hooked cord shot out from the side of the ship. It struck a nearby tree trunk, the hook sinking into the bark with a dull thud and holding. One of the figures tested the line, then nodded to the others. A few seconds later, they all zip lined from the ramp to the tree.
A tree that held the entrance to our largest storage room.
When they hit the platform and burst through the door, I finally stopped denying the truth.
These had to be the nomads we’d heard rumors about—the militants who preyed on weaker communities and stripped them of their worth. That flare from the other nighthadto have been a call for help. The gas had probably taken the residents by surprise, maybe even while they slept, and disabled them before they could complete the full emergency protocol.
The nomads had discovered and swept through Zina’s compound, and now they had come for us.
I had heard things were desperate out there—that most didn’t know how or have the means to depend on the natural world the way we did. There were shortages of food and water, even basic shelter. I should have known it would only be amatter of time before they encroached on the jungles. And we were a prime target. With our stock, they could feed a small army for months.
A flare shot toward the aircraft with such speed that its explosion caught Jessie and me off guard.
We staggered back, losing balance slightly. We stared at the burst of light zooming over the ramp and erupting within the aircraft’s interior. Whoever had fired it, it was a good shot.
Shouts and confusion followed. Our people fired more flares in rapid succession, most of them reaching the interior of the ship. The smoke from the flares, combined with the gas, made it all the more difficult to see, but I could hear the ramp creaking and beginning to close. The nine nomads who had entered the storage room raced back out.
“Take them out!” a rough male voice boomed from above, crackling through some kind of speaker.
My blood froze as the nomads on the platform reached for their weapons. I wasn’t even sure if our men had noticed they had come back out yet—the smog was getting so thick in the center of the clearing, and their attention still seemed to be on shooting flares up at the aircraft.
My fingers were opening my matchbox and striking a flame before I could think. I yanked the first flare from my backpack, positioned it, and then scorched the fuse.
The flare burst into life, launching off and barreling toward its target with a precision that surprised me. Sparks erupted as it hit the platform. The nomads cried out, falling to the floor and covering their heads. It didn’t look like the flare had seriously injured anyone, but the shock gave me the delay I needed.
“Get to cover!” I bellowed at our men.
My father’s visor locked on me through the haze. I felt astab of guilt at the sheer horror in his voice when he yelled my name.
“We need to get to cover, too!” Jessie hissed. She grabbed my hand and jerked me down.
The nomads climbed back to their feet. One of them had spotted us. He raised his gun and fired. A red-tipped dart shot out, missing the side of my head by inches and lodging into the branch behind me. Apparently, their bullets were different from ours.
Jessie yanked me backward. We were about to retreat into the storage tree house behind us when my ears picked up on a familiar voice, drifting through the trees from our left. It was slightly muffled, but still distinguishable.
“Tani! Tani!”
My mother. She had left Bea to come looking for me.
“No!” I screamed across the treetops. “Mom, stay away!”
ZAP.
Another dart hit our tree. Jessie tugged at me harder, hauling me through the door and closing it behind us, just as a third projectile thudded against the wood.
I raced across the sacks of rice to the staircase in the corner of the room and scaled it, bursting out onto the rooftop. Here, I had more cover from our immediate attackers. It was by no means safe, but I had to somehow warn my mother.
I moved to the edge of the roof and looked out through the branches. It was too late. She had already mounted the last zip line. She hurtled toward our platform at full speed. A mask covered her head and three flares were tucked into her harness.
The nomad who had been firing at us noticed her too. He turned his gun on her.
“Mom, watch?—!”
