Chapter Twenty-Six
Mist cooled her cheek, waking her gently from sleep. Exhaustion had hit her like a tram as she’d split rations with her friends, and within seconds of lying on a rock shelf near the waterfall, the fatigue won.
Gemma sat up slowly, every muscle stiff, and pressed her palm against the damp stone beside her.
Voices trailed from across the cavern: Nadine’s clipped tone, Imara’s dry retort, Hawk’s quiet chuckle .
. . They were already gathering supplies, cinching straps, and checking weapons.
The weight in Gemma’s stomach reminded her why—soon, they’d be slipping into Perileos.
Christian was crouched near the supply crates, head bent as he wrapped the shoulder she’d seen bleeding last night. He glanced over once, catching her eye in that wordless way that said he was still here, that she wasn’t walking into this alone.
She wasn’t sure if that made her feel braver or more afraid.
Gemma pushed herself off the ground and crossed the cavern. Nadine knelt over a spread of gear, her movements efficient and clinical. She slid a holstered, compact pistol toward Gemma without looking up.
“You know how to use one of these?” Nadine asked.
Gemma stared at the weapon for a beat before taking it. “I do.”
“Good. Keep it concealed, and don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”
Her hand tightened on the grip until the ridges pressed into her skin. Did her sister really think she was an idiot?
Hawk checked his rifle’s magazine while Imara adjusted the alignment on her prosthetic. Sometime while Gemma had slept, Imara’s drone had reappeared. It sat next to her on the ground; a blue light on its roof blinked as if it were charging.
Minutes stretched into hours, and with every second that passed, Gemma grew more restless. Christian twined his fingers with hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
She wished she had his confidence.
At last, Nadine slung her bag into place.
“It’s time. We get one shot at this. Theo will meet us at the south maintenance tunnel.
Once we’re inside, we do not talk. We move fast, we move quiet, and if something goes wrong, don’t wait for orders.
Just survive, and someone from the Dissent will find you.
We have more eyes than the Systems realize. ”
Gemma looked once more at the waterfall, committing its steady rhythm to memory. To her, it sounded like safety. But out there, the noise would be different. And on Reva and in Perileos, safety was an illusion.
Hawk and Imara fell into motion, ensuring the drone was ready and checking last minute supplies.
Gemma adjusted the pistol at her hip, feeling its weight settle against her like a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.
Christian took one last look at her before slipping his pack on, the muscles in his jaw tight.
“You ready?” he asked, touching the small of her back.
Not really.
She nodded despite the fear chilling her bones. “As I’ll ever be.”
The battery lamps were turned off one by one until the cavern was lit only by the glow of their torchlights. Shadows stretched across the walls. The waterfall’s voice followed them as they filed toward the narrow slope that would lead them to Reva’s surface.
Gemma stayed close to Christian, his hand in hers as they climbed out of the cave. Each step was slow and deliberate, their boots grinding into loose dirt.
Outside, the desert lay in near silence, broken only by the faint hiss of wind sweeping across the dunes.
Their blue sun was long gone, its absence leaving the sky cloaked in shades of pink, purple, green, and blue starlight.
Above them, their twin moons hung low, one thin and sharp as a blade and the other full and pale, painting the sand in silver.
Nadine took point without a word, setting a punishing pace.
Hawk brought up the rear, his rifle angled low but ready.
Imara fidgeted with the brace on her wrist, talking with her drone that had flown several paces ahead to scout for any surprises.
Christian stayed at Gemma’s side, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating through his sleeve.
Every step forward deepened the knot in her stomach.
She’d spent her life in Perileos. She knew its smells, its noise, its weight.
Which meant, she also knew how quickly the Systems could choke the air from it.
Would they risk suffocating the entire city just to find her?
If any of her friends got hurt or arrested for helping her escape Zion, and she couldn’t keep her alien side under control . . .
Her hands shook. This was a bad idea.
“Hey,” Christian said, giving her hand a squeeze, “all we need to do is get to the Dissent’s base, and then we’ll be safe while we figure out how to get off this blasted rock.”
Gemma nodded, though her heart felt clamped in a vise.
An hour later, Perileos’ silhouette rose in the distance, notched with rusted vent stacks and rain barrels. Below it, faint specks of light marked the city’s upper vents and maintenance towers.
Nadine slowed as they reached a shelf of rock overlooking the city. Only four percent of it was above ground, and from this far out, Perileos looked almost peaceful.
But Gemma knew better.
Nadine motioned for them to stay low, leading the way across the last stretch of rock. She reached Perileos first, dropping to one knee and working a hidden latch in one of the vents’ frames.
Nadine swore.
“Problem?” Hawk asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Up here, there were rarely guards, but one could never be too confident. Especially when the Systems were looking for them.
“It’s jammed,” Nadine muttered, trying again.
“Wait,” Christian said, and everyone froze. “Do you feel that?”
A soft vibration under Gemma’s feet deepened into a low tremor.
“Fuck. Of course the freight tram is early tonight,” Nadine said. “We have two minutes to get down the vent shaft, or we’ll be stuck out here for stars knows how long.”
And easily spotted.
Hawk and Christian jumped into action, helping Nadine pry the gate open. Gemma spun slowly, searching for signs that they were about to be discovered, while Imara sent her drone on a large swoop of the surrounding area.
At last, the latch gave way with a metallic snap.
“Go!” Nadine hissed. “Through the panel next to the track.”
Imara’s drone zipped in first, then Hawk swung his legs over and lowered himself until his boots caught the rung of a corroded ladder. Imara went next, and Gemma after her.
Her hands were slick against the warm metal as she descended into the dark, the heat growing heavier the deeper she went. The vibration from the incoming tram shook the vent shaft so hard that her teeth hurt.
“Move, guys! We’re running out of time,” Hawk shouted from below, the grated panel pried open. Imara was nowhere to be seen—she must’ve been the first to go through.
A glance up showed Christian and Nadine racing down the ladder. Gemma picked up speed, gripping each rung as tightly as possible to keep from slipping. At last, her boots touched surface, and she dropped through the floor panel.
The roar of the freight was deafening now.
Gemma covered her ears, watching in horror as Christian, Nadine, and Hawk fell through just as the freight passed over.
Sparks flew as the metal panel was ripped from its hinges.
The five of them dropped to the ground and protected their heads from falling debris as the tram tore across the track above them.
Gemma clenched her teeth against the terror threatening to rip through her.
The tattoo on her arm began to warm and her fingertips started to tingle. A painful hum grew behind her sternum, roaring in her ears. No, no, no. Not now. Please not now. A soft violet glow covered her vision in a haze as time began to slow—
The quake from the freight lessened; the rumble quieted. And with it, her panic diminished, calming the power that wanted to erupt.
Nadine growled. “That should not have been running right now.”
Gemma pushed off the ground, her heartbeat still thumping in her ears. Christian’s worried gaze found hers. She nodded, letting him know she was okay.
“Where are we?” Imara asked once they were all on their feet.
“Maintenance tunnel,” Nadine answered. “Let’s move.”
Their boots were near-silent against the grime-slick floor as they worked their way deeper into the city. Gemma skimmed her fingers along the dents and seams in the old, revarium steel walls that had been warped by decades of blistering heat.
Droplets of condensation dripped onto her head and shoulders as Nadine led them through a series of bends, each section more humid than the last, and within minutes, Gemma’s prison outfit was sticking to her sweaty, damp skin.
Then a bend in the passage brought a wash of dim light spilling toward them from up ahead.
Nadine slowed, raising a fist for silence. Every sound—their breathing, the scuff of their boots—felt amplified in the close, oppressive heat.
Around the curve, the light resolved into a single torchlight, and holding it, half-shadowed, stood the maintenance worker from Zion’s prison block.
He wore coveralls smeared with dust and oil, and a maintenance badge was clipped to his chest. A battered tool crate sat at his feet, but his eyes were fixed on Nadine, sharp and alert.
“You’re late,” the man whispered.
“Yeah, whatever,” Nadine replied. “Got the clothes?”
He popped open the crate lid. Inside were folded sets of dusty maintenance uniforms, scuffed boots, and hardhats with flickering head lamps.
Beneath the clothing, coils of insulated wire and sections of pipe jutted at odd angles, enough to make the load look like legitimate repair gear if anyone peeked inside.
Of course the man cleaning their prison cells had been working for Nadine the whole time.