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“Out of the question—we don’t know what kind of life-form constructed these buildings. ” Colonel Martin passes the binoculars to Emma—but Emma immediately hands them to me.
I stare through the lens. The side of the mountain has been carved into levels, connected by rows of stone steps. Large, even-sided buildings rise up against the hillside, perhaps made using the same stone dug out from the mountain to make the levels. I can see cutouts in the walls of the buildings: windows and doors.
Human-sized windows and doors.
Colonel Martin is right—the entire place looks dusty and old, long abandoned.
“Something could still be there. If there are sentient creatures on this planet, they had to have seen our landing,” Colonel Martin says.
I think about the way the shuttle seemed to be knocked off course. Was that a malfunction of the shuttle, something to do with those giant birds, or was it an attack by whatever being built these structures?
This changes everything.
“I don’t trust it,” Colonel Martin continues.
Lightning cracks across the sky. Fat, heavy drops of water start to fall. My people scream. This rain is nothing like the “rain” from Godspeed. On Godspeed, rain is measured bursts of water from the sprinkler system built into the painted ceiling. But this? No rhythmic falling, no even distribution. The fat, irregular raindrops just plop down on us, clattering through the leaves, splashing against our skin, cool and slick.
“What is this?” a woman shouts. She swipes at her body, trying to get the rain off her, but of course she can’t. More falls down.
I hop onto the boulder Colonel Martin still stands on. “Look,” I say, “you’re moments away from my people panicking. We need to get to shelter, and we need to get to shelter now. Those buildings are the best bet we have!”
Colonel Martin looks at me the same way Eldest did when I thought the light bulbs in the Keeper Level were real stars. “You’d really choose hiding in there with God knows what inside instead of staying out here in a little rain?”
“To us this is not just ‘a little rain. ’ And you said yourself the buildings are probably abandoned. ”
“Besides,” Emma says, “the lightning is dangerous. Can’t stay near the trees, stupid to head into the flat areas of land or by the lake. Safest thing is shelter. Here, or somewhere else. ”
A meaningful look shoots between Emma and Colonel Martin, and from his scowl, I can tell that Amy’s father doesn’t like whatever it is Emma is implying.
“Rank one, rank two,” Colonel Martin bellows. Emma snaps to attention and the rest of the nearby military gathers around her. “Go first, inspect the buildings. Radio back. Hurry!”
Emma races forward, followed by the rest of the military in the first two ranks. Which must not include Chris, because he stays by Amy’s side.
Colonel Martin doesn’t look happy, but he heads across the meadow as well, cutting a swath through the high, yellowish-green grass. Now that we’re out from the trees, my people are more nervous and scared than ever. I keep looking behind me as I follow Colonel Martin, almost tripping, trying to keep tabs on everyone.
Amy sprints forward, to be beside me. I glance back but can’t find the ever-present Chris tagging along. “What is this place?” Amy asks, breathless not from running, but from excitement.
“I don’t know. ” I hate the childish way seeing Amy with Chris makes me feel, but I can’t tamp it down.
The farther in the open we travel, the faster my people go until we’re all jogging across the wide meadow, tall grasses whipping against our legs. The rain makes the grains stick to our skin and clothing, and a sweet smell escapes from the broken stalks as we trample the grass in our mad dash toward the buildings.
A crackle escapes the radio at Colonel Martin’s shoulder. “All clear, sir,” Emma’s voice says through the radio.
Colonel Martin looks back. “We’re heading to those buildings!” he shouts, waving his arm forward.
That’s all my people need to hear. They quickly overtake him, running, racing as fast as they can to be out of the storm. The rain comes faster and harder, water pouring from the skies so intensely that I can barely see. Amy grabs my hand, her own slippery, pulling me beside her.
A bright flash of lightning illuminates the sky, casting Amy in light that seems to capture her in a single moment of time, not unlike when she was frozen.
All around us, everyone is running with terror. Blind panic, shouts of fear, our primal instincts have taken over.
But Amy runs through the rain, her mouth wide and grinning, her eyes sparkling, relishing every second.
17: AMY
I would use the same word to describe both my joy and the rain: torrential. This—this—this is all I ever wanted from the world: wide-open spaces and cooling rain and the chance to run.
We reach the buildings much too soon.
