He has long, muscular arms. And scars littering his entire face. They look like burns, twisting his skin, bubbling up in places, the same way Sparrow’s face was. His dark hair hangs in mats down to his shoulders, and as he stands, the crowd watches his every move.
He is definitely their leader.
“What happened to you?” I ask. “All of you?”
“What? There somethin’ wrong with the way we look, Cleanie?” The man rounds the side of the bonfire. He looks like a character out of my nightmares. As he gets closer, I see the tears in his clothing. The skin beneath is scarred, too. His entire body is covered, as if he was thrown to a fire, or burned with acid.
He steps up to me and looks me over. Zephyr slides in front of me, arms crossed. I roll my eyes. I can take care of myself. For now.
“What do we have here?” The leader holds out a filthy scarred hand, like he’s going to touch Zephyr’s Catalogue Number.
But I dive, grab the man’s wrist, and twist it backward. I hold it until it’s about to snap.
“No one touches us,” I say. “We came for answers. Nothing more.”
The man smiles, but there is darkness in his eyes. “Easy, now,” he says. “You came to us, Cleanie.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
He laughs, but it comes out like a wheeze. “It means you just got here, that’s what it means. Letter Cs, on your cuffs? Clean blood. They ain’t got to you. Yet.”
I let his wrist go.
He staggers backward, still staring at my Catalogue Number. “We’ve seen others like you. Things are changing here.” He looks back, at his people. They watch with wide eyes, as if they are afraid. “Tell us, Reds. Where did you come from? Why did they send you here?”
“Tell us where the others like us are staying,” I say instead. “A trade of information.”
His voice crackles like the fire. “Look around you. This place ain’t much, but it’s home. And when a guest enters a home, it’s customary to bring a gift.” He looks over his shoulder again. Some of his people stand.
I take another step back.
“Now, Cleanies. What do you have to offer us? Give us a gift, and you can stay the night. There are bad colors out there. Blues and yellows and purples, and more. But we’re Greens. We’re the good guys, and we can be friends, if you give us a reason to be.”
“We have nothing for you,” Sketch says.
But the man has other ideas. “Your coats,” he says. “Your boots.” He nods at the knife in my hand. “And the boy’s knife you stole. He’ll be needing that back.”
“No,” I say, wrapping my coat tighter around myself, pulling the knife flat against my chest. I have a flash of a memory, standing on the beach with Peri, when the Pirates made us give up her shoelaces. “These are ours.”
He whistles. Two men stand, the one with the muscular arm, and one with bloodred eyes. They cross behind us, and others join, making a circle. Blocking out the exit tunnel. I start to move, ready to fight my way out.
But suddenly sweat beads on my brow. I sway on my feet.
The switch is coming again. Soon I will be useless.
“You understand, I have people to look after,” the leader says, and spits blood on the ground. “We won’t hurt you. We just want what you have. The nights are cold. You find your Reds, and they’ll take care of you, same as Greens look after Greens. That’s the way it works here, Cleanie. But for now . . .”
He motions for his men to move for us.
I clench my fists, beg myself to just hang on until we’re out of here. My nose drips. Fresh blood.
And then there’s a noise in the distance.
A whirring sound, coming from afar.
The men freeze. They glance at their leader. All around, everyone starts murmuring. Children start to cry. Women shush them and pull them close.
“Scout, they’re coming,” the woman says. “Help us.”
“Stay calm,” the leader says. “Remember. Don’t. Move.” The people huddle together, leaving the entrance open and free. Their leader looks at us, and winks. “You got off easy. I’d say you’re lucky, Cleanies, but . . .” hHe glances at the sky, and for the first time, I see fear in his eyes. “The Biters are here.”
The buzzing grows louder and louder.
“Meadow,” Zephyr says, and he tugs at my shirt, tries to pull me back. “Meadow, let’s go.”
But I’m frozen. I can’t move.
Curiosity tugs at me, and I have to know. Have to see for myself what we are up against.
The buzzing intensifies, and I can almost feel it in my bones.
A wave of giant, black winged insects soars over the top of the fortress, blocking out the sky. It’s like the world freezes, as I look up at hundreds, thousands of them, buzzing as loud as the Night Siren wails. They look like mosquitos, nearly as large as my hand. Biters.
“Well, flux me,” Sketch says.
The world snaps back into the present. Biters dive downward, an army poised for the attack, and the Greens erupt into a chorus of screams.
CHAPTER 80
ZEPHYR
My instincts take over.
I dive for the tunnel, pulling Meadow and Sketch with me. I shove Meadow through first, and she scurries inside. Sketch goes next, and I’m about to race after them when something stabs me in the neck.
I scream.
Pain, worse than anything I’ve ever felt before, like I’ve just been struck with a white-hot fire poker. I slap the Biter, and it squelches against my palm. An explosion of blood and black goo on my skin.
“Zero!” Sketch yells.
She yanks me in after them.
I fall to hands and knees, and then Sketch is ripping off her jacket, shoving it into the gap behind us. Meadow and I follow suit, and in seconds we’ve covered the entrance to the Ridge as best we can. Behind the barrier, I can hear the Greens screaming, the constant buzzing of the Biters.
“What the hell were those things?” Sketch asks.
In the darkness, we’re crammed together, breathing hard, listening as the screams and the buzzing fade.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, as silence comes. The throbbing on my neck fades, but now I swear I can feel something running through me. Like there’s poison in my veins. “But I think one bit me.”
I barely have the words out before there’s a strange, speckling in my vision.
Then it goes dark.
“What just happened?” I whisper. “Where’d the light go?”
I feel someone shift beside me.
“Zephyr . . .” It’s Meadow’s voice. “It’s not dark.”
“Yes it is,” I say. I wave my hands in front of my face, but I can’t see anything at all. Only pure oil black, darker than a starless sky.
“No, Zero,” Sketch says. “It’s not.”
“I can’t see,” I whisper.
It’s then that it hits me.
I think I’ve just gone blind.
CHAPTER 81
MEADOW
This is impossible.
Zephyr was fine, seconds ago, and now he is blind. His cuff changes. The letter C becomes a number 47.
I tell myself to stay calm, to stay in control. It is what my father would do, and probably has done, since coming to the Ridge. There is always an explanation for everything, and once I find my father, he will explain this to us.