Date: 2015-10-06 04:00:00+00:00
Description: OBEY OR DIE Max Planck might be the constable in City 7, but he doesn't make the rules. Governor Alderman rules the dome with an iron fist and when he says someone is guilty, asking for details is a quick way to get thrown out of the airlock. But this time it's different. This time it's Sarah, Max's sister and last living relative, who's sentenced to die on the merciless Martian surface. For the first time in years, Max goes against Alderman, hoping to discover what Sarah is guilty of. What he uncovers might earn him his own death sentence. It also might bring change. It's time for the people
Publisher: Raven House

Mars Rising

The Domeworld Saga

John Corwin

Copyright © 2016 by John Corwin.

Digital eBook Edition.

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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

LICENSE NOTES

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Books by John Corwin:

The Overworld Chronicles:

Sweet Blood of Mine

Dark Light of Mine

Fallen Angel of Mine

Dread Nemesis of Mine

Twisted Sister of Mine

Dearest Mother of Mine

Infernal Father of Mine

Sinister Seraphim of Mine

Wicked War of Mine

Dire Destiny of Ours

Overworld Continuum:

Aetherial Annihilation

Overworld Underground:

Possessed By You

Demonicus

Overworld Arcanum:

Conrad Edison and the Living Curse

Conrad Edison and the Anchored World

Domeworld Saga

Mars Rising

Stand Alone Novels:

No Darker Fate

The Next Thing I Knew

Outsourced

Seventh

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OBEY OR DIE

Max Planck might be the constable in City 7, but he doesn't make the rules. Governor Alderman rules the dome with an iron fist and when he says someone is guilty, asking for details is a quick way to get thrown out of the airlock.

But this time it's different. This time it's Sarah, Max's sister and last living relative, who's sentenced to die on the merciless Martian surface. For the first time in years, Max goes against Alderman, hoping to discover what Sarah is guilty of.  What he uncovers might earn him his own death sentence. It also might bring change.

It's time for the people of Mars to rise up.

Chapter 1

It was nearly six years to the day Constable Max Planck had sent his parents into the red wasteland to die and now it looked like his sister would soon be joining them.

"What the fuck, Sarah!" Max leaned heavily against the desk as the strength abandoned his legs. "What did you do?" His last words trailed out weakly, like a dying man's last desperate breath.

Sarah struggled to answer, face contorting with pain, sweat trickling down the fair skin of her face, but the silencer wrapped around her neck gagged her each time she tried to speak. Tears pooled in her eyes, but a hoarse rasp was the meager reward for so much effort.

Administrator Barnes gripped Sarah's bicep tight enough to make her wince. "She has been convicted and sentenced. She exercised her constitutional right to death by expulsion instead of reintegration."

"She's going to feed the father?" Max remembered watching their parents, expelled from the airlock all those years ago but only a memory away.

"Yes, feed the father." Barnes sighed, as if this civvie term was too lowly for a lab coat to repeat.

A shiver of revulsion slithered up Max's throat as he imagined the alternative—Sarah's petite form thrown into the grinder and spread on the farms. A human reduced to fertilizer; a life snuffed and fed to the daughter. "What did she do?"

"That is classified," Barnes replied. He didn't seem the least bit sad about executing one of his own.

"Even Science Division usually extends the courtesy of telling the constable what someone did." Max squared his shoulders and tried to look menacing. Inside, he felt puny and weak. A great weight settled on his shoulders and his heart turned to lead.

"Not possible in this case," Barnes replied. "You will prepare her for the exile ceremony to take place at five today. If anyone tampers with the silencer, they will be subject to prosecution and possible execution as well." He tapped a finger to the round module on the metallic collar around Sarah's throat. "Do your duty, Constable Planck."

Max stepped nose-to-nose with the short, bald man. "I want to talk to Alderman."

The administrator stood his ground, looking up at Max with steely eyes. "Impossible, he's in the middle of very important experiments right now."

Knuckles cracked from Max's clenched fists. "This is my sister's life we're talking about." He fought back the tremble in his voice. "My only flesh and blood."

Barnes pursed his lips and regarded the constable without a trace of empathy on his face. "I will relay your request."

The concession wasn't much, but it was enough until Max figured out what in the hell he could do. "Thank you."

"Hey, Max, I'm back from—" Scarlett Flynn froze in the doorway, eyes darting between Max, Barnes, and Sarah. "What's this?"

Barnes sighed loudly. "The constable can explain it to you."

Max turned to his deputy. "Please wait outside."

"But—"

"Go, please!" Max heard the desperation in his voice, but he couldn't deal with Scarlett right now—couldn't bear the heavy scorn she'd heap on him once she saw Max was on the receiving end of a feeding.

Scarlett bit her lip. Nodded. "Fine, I'll be outside." She turned and shut the door behind her.

Eyes wide with fear, Sarah tried to speak again, but grimaced with pain when the silencer squeezed her vocal cords.

The administrator jerked her arm. "Enough of that." He looked expectantly at Max. "Lock her in the vault."

"The vault?" Max's vision wavered with shock. "We haven't used that in years."

"I must ensure she is kept in solitude until the ceremony this afternoon." Barnes nodded his head toward the desk. "Please proceed, Constable, I don't have all day."

Max sat down at the old wooden desk, the surface scarred and stained by generations of constables before him. Who was the last person to use the vault?
What the hell did my sister do to deserve it?

Hands trembling, he spun the combination lock, got it wrong the first time, and had to start over. It clicked open the second try, the metal thunk echoing and the mildly pleasant odor of old metal drifting out. Inside hung several key tokens. He removed the last one, a gray disc with patterns etched into one side, the grooves forming a unique pattern. Rust tinged the edges.

Biding his time and hoping to make a point, Max pulled out a piece of steel wool and rubbed the red flakes. "I can't get rust in the slot," he explained.

Barnes tapped a foot impatiently. "Very well."

Max caught a series of quick blinks from his sister. At first he thought the flutter of her eyelids meant she was about to pass out, but the urgency in her face said otherwise. She was sending him a code.

Three quick blinks, three long, three quick. Max flashed back to a time long ago. This was something Dad had shown them, something from the old world. Something forbidden.

Sarah's eyelids were telling him SOS.

"Tell me something useful," Max said, more to Sarah than to Barnes.

Barnes stared at him. "Useful in what way, Constable? Useful in comforting you in this troubling time, or useful in making a case for your sister?"

Max continued to shine the key disc. "Anything. Why solitude, for example?"

"For committing classified high crimes."

Sarah changed her blinking pattern. Max struggled to remember what Dad had taught them.

"Sometimes it's not safe to talk or write," Dad said. "You never know who might be watching and listening."

Max used to think it was just a fun game to play with Sarah when they were little. Now it had turned into something deadly serious.

"Is the key ready yet?" Barnes asked.

"Almost." Max watched Sarah from the corner of his eye.

She blinked the same pattern over and over. Mech S45A12. Airlock.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"I believe that's good enough," Barnes said.

"But—"

"Enough," the administrator said in a firm voice. "If it damages the lock, I will have mechworks replace it."

Max stood slowly, buying time and hoping his sister added something new to her cryptic message. What if he'd completely misinterpreted her blinks? Panic trapped a breath in his throat, but he forced it down. "This way." He pressed his star-shaped badge into the indention next to the thick metal door guarding the cellblock and stepped back as it swung open on creaking hinges.

"Reckon I'm good to go?" a hopeful Barlow McGee asked from the barred holding cell on the right. His eyes went wide with fright when he saw the man in a white lab coat step inside behind Max, and his mouth dropped open when he saw the girl fitted with a silencer around her throat. "Is that your sister, Max?"

"Quiet, Barlow," Max said. "Sleep off the alcohol and you'll get out soon enough."

Barnes's lip curled with disgust. "Science Division business. Face the wall and close your eyes."

Drunk as he was, Barlow knew to shut up and follow instructions. He rolled over on the cot and even pulled the blanket over his head.

Max stared at the drunk for a moment and thought of all the times he'd pulled the blanket over his head so he could ignore the obvious and just get on with doing what he was told. At one time, he'd solved real crimes and taken people to justice, but most of the time it felt like the lab coats told him what facts to use and what outcome they expected. He'd long since stopped caring and just went through the motions.

He was still going through the motions, but this time it was different. This time he cared.

Max passed steel doors with reinforced windows for dangerous criminals—all of them empty except Barlow's. He stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall—the one without a window. A glance back at his sister's frightened eyes nearly caused him to revolt. It wouldn't take much to overpower Barnes and throw him into the cell instead of Sarah.

But then what? In City 7 there was no place to go and no place to hide. Five square miles of space under the dome was nothing if the lab coats wanted to find someone.

The key clicked into the shallow slot and the door creaked open, revealing a small padded room with a stainless steel toilet in the corner. A terrified squeak betrayed Sarah's fear. Barnes shoved her inside. She retaliated with an awkward donkey kick, catching the lab coat in his rotund stomach.

Barnes grunted and doubled over. Sarah's lip curled into a satisfied smirk.

The lab coat snarled and bared his teeth. Max shut the door before he could retaliate. If Barnes hit his sister, his corpse would feed the daughter, but Max would end up going out the airlock and feeding the father too.

"Enjoy the rest of your life," Barnes spat at the door. He held out his hand. "Give me the token."

"What if something happens and I need to get to her?"

"You're not authorized to open that cell until I say so." Barnes bobbed his hand up and down. "Key, now."

It was the only copy, but what choice did Max have? He handed it over and walked Barnes back to the front, hoping Sarah's kick to the administrators round belly didn't hurt Max's chances to speak with the governor. "Will you talk to Alderman when you get back?"

The administrator rubbed his paunch, glaring back down the hallway at the closed vault. Max shut the main door, blocking the view.

Barnes snapped back to him. "It won't make a difference, you know." He offered a patronizing smile. "Your sister might as well have jumped out of the airlock herself." He jerked open the exit. "Good day, Constable."

Max's legs buckled the moment Barnes left. He slumped against his desk. The room suddenly seemed dimmer, less real. His chest felt as if the parts were grinding together, organic gears that didn't quite mesh. Max locked the front door, opened the main cell, and ran back to the vault.

"Sarah," he moaned. "What the hell did you do?" Max banged his fists against the unyielding metal. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Everything all right down there, Constable?"

He'd forgotten about Barlow. Teeth grinding with impotent rage and sorrow, Max walked back to the low-priority cells and unlocked the door. "Go home, Barlow."

"Promise I won't drink like that again, sir." He hiccupped and held up forefinger and middle finger in a V. "Father's honor."

"It wasn't the drinking that got you in trouble Barlow, it was the fight." Max led him to the front office. What a joke. Last night Max had complained about going out after hours to break up the fight. His biggest worry had been rounding up a rowdy drunk who landed himself at Hotel Planck nearly once a month. Now his sister faced a death sentence and had only hours to live.

Someone banged a fist on the front door. "Max?"

Max groaned. He'd forgotten Scarlett was outside.

Barlow puffed out his chest, oblivious to the knocking. "Jenkins deserved to be punched. He claimed McCoy swill is better than Hatfield. Ain't no reckoning to that, Constable!"

"You punched a man because he likes one swill better than another?" Max hadn't bothered investigating the details of the fight. "Swill is swill, Barlow." He was about to shove him out of the door and let Scarlett in when something about Sarah's message made a connection. "You're a mechanist, right?"

The old man's bloodshot eyes brightened. "Sure am. Used to be a lab mechanist 'til I started enjoying the swill too much."

Max hated to broach a sensitive subject, but did it anyway. "Because your wife fed the daughter."

Barlow stiffened and a single tear ran down his whiskered cheek. "Sums it up, Constable. They tossed her in the grinder and fertilized the farms with her bones. I reckon your sister is braver for feeding the father. I wouldn't have the stones to face the airlock or the red sand."

"The father is cruel, but so is the daughter." Max didn't reckon either way was braver. You ended up dead both ways.

Scarlett banged on the door again. "Max, open up!"

The reason for the original question came back to Max over the roar of blood in his ears. "What's a mech S45A12?"

Barlow scratched the stubble on his chin. "Oh, that's a toughsuit the brassworks mechanists wear. Keeps 'em safe in the heat and steam and the bad air."

This bit of information instantly clarified Sarah's code. She wanted one of those special suits left in the airlock for her. She actually planned to survive on the surface. What would it matter? There was nothing out there. The lab coats said it would be centuries before the outside was habitable. Meanwhile, Governor Alderman told everyone to shut up and keep working for the future.

Why get her the suit? How would he sneak it into the airlock? Could he hide it inside?

"Constable?" Barlow snapped his fingers. "Maybe you need some swill."

Max flinched. "How hard is it to get one of those suits?"

"A level four could get it anytime." Barlow squinted. "Why? Thinking of switching jobs?"

Max had been down to the brassworks to investigate a death. The place was a nightmare of steam and grinding machinery, where the solar power was converted into electricity for the city, the sewage treated, and methane pumped into pipes for gas energy. The men and women who worked there were paid extra, but had half the lifespan. They worked hard, drank hard, and once they couldn't work anymore, fed the daughter or the father.

He remembered wearing a special airtight heat-resistant suit before going underground and looking at the scene. He realized he had the perfect excuse to get one now.

"No, I have to look into an accident," Max said offhandedly.

"By the way, Marshal Birch is real thankful for the meds you got—"

"Don't mention it, Barlow." Max put a finger to his lips. "Don't ever speak of it again."

The drunk nodded. "You got it, Constable."

Max held open the front door. "Behave, Barlow."

"Reckon I will," the old man said. "I gotta stay useful. Ain't quite ready to see the missus just yet." Barlow stepped onto the gray concrete street and ambled away.

Scarlett pushed inside before Max could shut the door, her big green eyes angry. "Max Planck, you'd better tell me what's going on right this instant."

"Sarah's gonna feed the father today." The words seemed unreal, spoken by another man who wasn't Max, but looked just like him. He watched Scarlett carefully, waiting for her to gloat.

"They're putting her out the airlock?" Scarlett's cheeks went red. "She isn't the Planck that deserves it."

And there it is. Max slammed the front door and locked it, too sick with worry about Sarah to engage Scarlett in a war of words right now—too angry to admit she was right. Max would trade places with Sarah in an instant, but that wasn't going to happen.

First he needed to let Sarah know he understood her message. For that, he needed Scarlett out of the way. Max shuffled through the gray complaint forms on his desk and found one from last week. "Farm Four is having problems with a rowdy ranch hand not doing his work. Can you handle this today? I need time to think."

Deputy Flynn took the form and looked it over. "You're giving me busy work, Max." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm surprised you didn't already refile this one." That was her euphemism for erasing the magnetic form and never looking into the complaint.

"It bears investigating, Deputy."

"The hell it does, Constable." She poked his chest with a finger. "Last four feedings were travesties, and you knew it. Science Division said they're guilty, and you rubberstamped them without a second thought." Scarlett took her finger off his chest. "I don't know what happened to your conscience, Max, but it sure looks like the lab coats finally found it buried in your black soul."

Max trembled with rage and grief. Her words cut him to the bone. Not just because of Sarah, but because she was right. He put a lid on the boiling emotions and pointed to the door. "Go do your job."

Scarlett's eyes softened. "You tell Sarah hello for me, okay?" She unlocked the front door and stopped. "I knew you had a soul in there somewhere, Max. The sad part is, when Sarah feeds, I don't know if you'll keep hold of it, or lose it for good." The door slammed shut behind her.

Max stared at the closed door for a long moment. Having a conscience or a soul made this line of work too hard. He'd stood up to Science the first year. Then Alderman sentenced his parents to feed. No son should have to put his parents out of the airlock, but he had. Father damn it all, he'd done his duty, but this time he would feed before he put Sarah out to die.

He locked the door then ran back down the hall to the vault. Pressing his hands to the cool metal, he imagined transmitting hope through it to her. "I understand your message, sis. You want me to get a special suit from the brassworks."

A muffled cry of relief reached his ears.

Salt bit into his eyes. He blinked away tears. "I'll figure out how to hide it in the airlock, but what good will it do on the outside? There's no place to go in the city and even fewer places in the sand."

She managed another strangled sound.

Max leaned his head against the door and let the tears drip straight down to the gray concrete floor. He thought back to the last time he'd seen his sister—thought real hard. Had she ever mentioned doing or thinking anything treasonous? She was a lab coat—one of them! They were nearly immune to punishment. Hell, she was practically paired with Governor Alderman's oldest son, Robb, and the man thought of her like a daughter.

He thought for an instant about going straight to Robb and asking for help, but Max suspected the spoiled man-boy had already filled his old man's ear with tantrums. Robb didn't like anyone taking away his toys. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try.

Suit first. Max checked his wristwatch. Seven A.M. The morning was passing by fast and he had ten hours to save his sister's life.

Chapter 2

Max grabbed an evidence duffel bag from the closet and the bladewheel from its charging socket next to the door. Outside, he unfolded the metal pedals from the sides of the carbon fiber shield covering the single sixteen-inch wheel. With a practiced smoothness, he balanced his feet on the pedals and leaned forward. The internal gyroscope sensed the tilt and activated the motor on the electric unicycle. It was one of the few luxuries afforded his office. Most civvies had to walk.

The streets were clear, nearly everyone at work, so Max leaned forward, urging his ride to top speed down Main Street. Everywhere he looked was gray, gray, and more gray. It all blended together, especially on a dim morning like this. The founders built most everything in Central from reinforced concrete. Some joked it was so the scheduled rains could just wash all the grunge down the drains without any fuss.

The buildings hugged one another on the tightly packed avenue. Next to the constable's station stood the central medical center, past that the emergency response unit, and then the commissary, each labeled plainly with white signs and black letters.

The line of people waiting for their weekly allotment of food seemed longer than usual today. Max saw a familiar face waving at him. He smiled, pretending nothing was wrong, and waved back. Inside, he felt the relentless gnawing of worry, like rats working on the bottom of a garbage bin. I'm going to get caught.

At the end of the street, he saw Barlow McGee entering the door of the last building—the saloon.

"Dumb son of a bitch," Max growled. Then again, what did he care? The old man would drink until he couldn't work anymore, and the city would retire him. Most chose the grinder instead of the airlock when they retired. At least they put a person to sleep before feeding them to the daughter.

Max passed by the last of the essential services located in Central. The communes, light-gray beehives where the civvies lived, ringed the dark center. Max headed east to the industrial sector, home to the mechanists shop, recycling, and supply. The science labs were on the west side, and to the south stood the mansions where the admins lived. The workers called it Luxville under their breaths. Farms and ranches edged everything, taking up most of the acreage, and outside the farmland was the treeline.

While old workers fed the daughter or father, Science Division admins became city admins and Luxville was their afterlife. Everyone else went back into the ground one way or another.

Max felt the angry tremble in his arms again. Alderman took their parents six years ago and now he was about to take Max’s last living relative. Why in the hell had the founders given Science Division all the power?

Sunlight speared down onto the road and began to spread toward Max. Streetlamps flickered off as the light hit them. Max looked up at the great dome far overhead and saw the dark tint receding to let through the yellow rays. The lab coats never explained why they let the light through later some days than they did others, and it wasn't anyone's place to ask.

Max continued along Main Street until he reached the chain-link gate guarding the mechworks. Formed of plain gray concrete like nearly everything else, mechworks rose like a great monolithic cube. That still didn't make it the tallest building in the city. Overlook, on the science campus, reached all the way up to the dome itself.

"Hey, Constable." Marshal Olga Birch stepped out of the security box, the beige uniform hanging loose on her thin frame.

Max flashed his badge. "Hey, Olga. I got some business inside." Entering the mechworks without probable cause or authorization was illegal, but most people didn't question the constable. He prayed Olga didn't go by the book today.

"You don't say?" She looked up at the receding darkness. "Looks like the science boys woke up late again. It's nearly eight and they're just now giving us sunrise."

"Yeah, well, they like to play god." Max forced a grin. "At least they haven't messed up the weather controls in a while."

Olga snorted. "Like the time they accidentally turned on the rain in the city but not the farms?"

"I reckon they aren't as smart as they want us to think." Max nodded forward. "Well, I'd better get to it."

"Wait!" Olga grabbed his arm.

A nervous fever blazed beneath Max's skin. Please don't ask for a warrant.

"Was it another death in the brassworks?" she asked in a low voice.

"Another death?" He glanced around. "The last one I investigated over this way was three months ago."

Olga frowned. "We got two more dead since then."

"In the brassworks?"

She nodded. "It's a dangerous place to work, and they sure as hell shouldn't be sending untrained people in there."

Max frowned. "Wait a minute, you're telling me they sent untrained people into the brassworks?"

"Yep, a woman named Josephine Walls and some scrawny man. I think his name was Brent something." She squinted, snapped her fingers. "Brent Carlisle." She spat on the ground. "Transfers, both of them."

Transfers was a nasty word to throw around. Kids were tested for aptitude and schooled accordingly, slotted for jobs that they tested well for. Jobs were for life, except for rare occasions. Transferring from one job to another was almost unheard of.

"I had no idea about those other two deaths," Max said. For some reason the names sounded familiar, but so many had died on his watch, he'd stopped counting. To the lab coats, the civvies were like the gears in his wind-up watch. Keep on spinning smoothly and don't draw any attention or else they'd rip you out and replace you.

"Yeah, the Brent guy came from the bee farms. Not sure what the woman did before." She shook her head sadly. "They didn't even last two days."

"Why wasn't I brought in to investigate?" Normally, Max wouldn't much care. Wasn't anything he could do for the dead—or the walking dead, for that matter. When Administrator Barnes or Investigator Simmons showed up with a suspect, he didn't do much except put on a good show so the prisoner thought they had a chance. Sarah's troubles had changed all that in a heartbeat.

Olga shrugged. "The foremen reported them. Someone up top sent down the word they were accidents—no investigation necessary."

The Constitution clearly stated that the constable had to investigate all deaths, even if the coroner ruled them accidental. One of the admins wasn't following his own rules. Then again, that was nothing new.

"I'm here for something minor," he said, then as an afterthought, "Barlow."

Olga rolled her eyes. "That old drunk. I hope he didn't mess up anything."

"That's what I'm here to look at."

"Well, you go ahead, Constable." She touched his arm. "Is everything okay, Max?"

"As good as it can get in this place." Max tipped his head and forced a smile. "I'll be on my way." He rolled forward on the bladewheel and toward the complex. The imagined weight of her stare lifted as he turned the corner out of sight of Olga, and headed toward one of the side entrances he knew from experience was often left unlocked. He parked the bladewheel next to the door and made his way inside. The sound of grinders and power tools echoed from above. A yellow construction bot walked past on four legs, a heavy metal beam slung beneath it.

Max waited for it to pass, looking both ways for any signs of other people. With the path clear, he made his way through the large maintenance shop filled with all manner of construction tools. He soon reached recycling. Old metal and wire were piled high in one massive bin where it had been sorted for conversion back into raw materials.

Two men stood before a mound of refuse, busy stripping rubber insulation from copper so they could put the materials in the appropriate bins. Max walked boldly past them as if he had all the authority in the world to be there. They didn't even look up.

He reached the supply warehouse, gated off by chain-link fence. Under normal circumstances, a person would walk to the front window and enter a requisition form. Max thought about filling out one, saying he needed the outfit to go to the brassworks, but the minute Sarah stepped outside onto that red landscape and into view of the monitors, everyone would see she wore a toughsuit. The paper trail would point them to Max about five minutes later.

So, in these most unordinary of circumstances, he did what he'd arrested another man for, and walked to the back corner where a flap of chain link fence wasn't bolted to the concrete. Dexter Ellis had been convicted of supplies theft and fed the daughter. Though Max had discovered how the man broke in, he hadn't reported it. Dexter had tried to trade a length of precious wire for swill at the saloon and been caught for his stupidity. By the time Max got wind of it, there wasn't anything he could do for Dexter.

Max figured he could make use of stolen supplies in other ways, hoarding bits and pieces of essentials in a hidey-hole back at the station evidence room, and sometimes anonymously giving them to someone in need. Never had he thought he'd be using this illegal trespass to save a life. He slipped under the loose flap and peered around the nearest storage unit, a towering metal shelf. The aisle ran a hundred yards or more into the distance, empty, but for the automated arm used for retrieving items.

"Where do they keep those suits?" he asked himself in a hushed voice. He imagined the huge supply grid. This section was mostly hardware—nuts, bolts, screws. Protective materials like suits would probably be somewhere in the middle sections. Probably near the front.

Max slipped from aisle to aisle, growing more confident with every step.

"Hey!"

Ice raced through his veins and his heart crashed against his ribcage. Max froze in his steps and looked behind him. There was no one there.

"Yeah, right there," the voice called again. "Far end on the right."

"Yes, sir," a young male voice replied.

Max peeked around the corner and saw Twig Meyers, the supply chief instructing one of the Cooper boys about using the automated arm. It wasn't Brad Cooper—damned fool boy. Why didn't he listen to me? Brad fed the daughter a while back, so it had to be Burt.

"You got authorization, boy, so just tap in the code and the item number." Twig sighed in frustration.

"I typed it in, but it don't work, Mr. Twig."

Max backtracked to the next aisle and kept low so the coils of rope on the shelves hid him. He peeked between spools and saw Twig standing before the silver keypad.

"Stand back, boy, and let me do it." The supply chief punched his sausage fingers against the keys.

One, eight, four, four, seven. Max memorized them, even though the access codes changed frequently. Whenever he wanted something higher up, he had to climb for it.

The robotic arm hanging from the ceiling unfurled and, with precise mechanical motions, pinched a small box from a top shelf and set it on the floor next to Twig.

"Carry it to the front, boy." Twig shooed his helper. With a shake of his head, he turned and followed the kid toward the front.

Max waited for a count of twenty, then cautiously peered around the corner and down the aisle. Twig and Burt were nearly to the other end, so he dashed across the aisle and looked down the next. He hoped the suits weren't kept further to the front, but in this huge place, there was no telling. Another row and another gave him nothing. He'd have to move further up to the center aisle running horizontally between the front shelves and the back.

He hit pay dirt on the middle rows. The suits hung right near the entrance to the requisition room. Voices drifted from the open door.

Twig's voice carried from the office. "Did you finish inventory on the raw recyclables?"

"Y-yes, sir." Burt's nerves sounded about as frayed as Max's.

"Come to the computer, boy," Twig said.

This seemed like the best chance to grab a suit. At least a dozen hung from sturdy hangers next to a shelf of folded gray coveralls. Max stepped carefully, keeping his steps light as possible on the concrete floor.

The first few suits looked suited for larger figures. He found one for a petite build and stood next to it, sizing it up. The rubber gasket on the bubble helmet looked just right for Sarah's head to fit through and still keep a seal. Just above the suits was a box of oxygen micro-canisters. Max held one between thumb and forefinger. The small white cylinder had a threaded end that screwed into the bottom of the bubble helmet. At the top of the bubble helmet was a metal valve of some sort, probably to let out carbon dioxide exhaust.

He rolled the canister in his hand and found a label with minimal instructions: Hyper-compressed air. Two hours rated usage. Attach to approved helmets.

"Back there," Twig said. "Get it now."

Footsteps echoed. Cold panic raced up Max's limbs. If he ran for the end of the shelves, his own steps would betray him. He looked at the suits and took his only option.

Burt walked not ten steps from Max's hiding place behind the suits. Please don't look this way. Max's feet were in plain view beneath the hanging suits. The boy stopped and stared down the aisle.

"Was it this one or row thirty?" Burt mumbled to himself. He apparently decided it was the latter and reversed direction, going back toward the front and disappearing around the corner.

Max strained to listen for the fading clomp of steel-toed boots. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. What if Twig grew impatient and came out? Max glanced nervously back and forth between the door and the front of the shelves. Finally, he could take it no longer. The top of the hanger circled around the bar, so he eased the zipper down just enough to slide the suit off it, then gently arranged the other suits to cover this one's absence.

Carefully, he folded the bulky burden over an arm, took the bubble helmet and an air canister, and retreated down the row, waiting for the shout that would prove his end. Twig didn't emerge from the office and Max made it to the center aisle without being seen. He looked around the corner and jerked his head back. Burt stood there gazing down the row. Max sweated it out a few seconds, praying the boy hadn't picked up movement in his peripheral vision.

"Find it yet?" Twig hollered.

The boy shuffled and his footsteps sounded as if he'd moved a little up the path to the left. Max glanced back down toward the office. He just knew Twig would come out at any second, so he risked it and stole around the corner to his right. Thankfully, the supply boy wasn't in view.

Max's chest tightened. The knot made it hard to breathe. Lunch or dinner when the staff was occupied with food instead of wandering around the warehouse would have been a much better time than morning. Unfortunately, he had little time to spare.

Max retreated two more rows to the right then risked fording the center aisle. Those five steps felt more like twenty, but finally he stepped into the shadow of the back section. The tension in his chest eased and he took a long slow gulp of air. Almost home free. Quietly, he made his way to the back and the loose fencing. He ducked back through, pushed the chain link back into place so it looked as solidly attached as the rest, and leaned against a nearby support beam to calm his nerves.

Max folded the suit—difficult to do with such stiff bulky material—and stuffed it in his duffel. He put the air canister inside the helmet and crammed them in as well. The bag bulged like a pregnant cow. He hoped Olga wouldn't ask any questions on the way out. Wiping the sweat from his face, Max walked back into the mechworks, stepping past the recycle workers as if he hadn't a care in the world.

The bladewheel leaned against the wall outside. Max slung the duffel strap over a shoulder, centered the load on his back, and rode the electric unicycle back toward the gates.

"Get what you need, Constable?" Olga looked curiously at the duffel bag.

"Hopefully." He put on an easy smile. "Doubt it'll amount to much, but at least it keeps me busy."

The marshal chuckled. "I reckon it's a lot more excitement than I see around here." She waved. "Father bless."

"You too." Max rode back down Main Street into Central and took a right on Alderman Street, the road that bisected City 7 from north to south. Once he cleared the civvie housing sector, the gently rolling ranch fields spread out to all sides. A herd of cows looked up curiously from grazing, large brown eyes following him.

Far ahead, the huge gray walls of the perimeter rose up, monolithic guardians from the red sandy wastes outside. The wall dwarfed even the trees of the outer circle, rising hundreds of feet into the air. Max sometimes wondered what powers the founders had to build a place like this, but knew better than to ask.

The past is gone. The future remains.

The downtime during the ride to the airlock cleared his head a bit and made him think back to the last few times he'd seen Sarah. During their dinner a few weeks ago, she'd seemed agitated, worried.

Three Weeks Earlier

"Robb took me to Overlook Tower." Sarah twirled her fork in the mashed potatoes.

Max stopped chewing his tough, gristled beef. "Are you serious?" He washed down the food with water and nearly committed treason with his next question. This is Sarah I'm talking to. She might be a lab coat now, but he could trust her with anything, right?

Then he noticed the moisture gathering in Sarah's eyes and the question died on his lips. "What's wrong, sis? Did he hit you again?"

She shook her head quickly, smiled, and wiped the tear in the corner of her eye. "I'm just angry."

"Angry about going up to Overlook?" He bit his lower lip and the dead question resurrected itself. "Promise you won't report me for asking something."

Sarah sighed. "I'm your sister, Max. Robb Alderman thinking he owns me doesn't change that."

"Fine." Max imagined being at the top of the tallest building in the dome. There were so many rumors about what lay up there. "Does the window exist?"

His sister blinked. Nodded.

Max's breath caught in his throat. "Did you—"

She shook her head.

"Not even a glimpse?"

"It's best you don't even wonder, Max." Tears pooled in her eyes. "Don't make the mistake Mom and Dad made. Don't question the facts. Just live."

Max stepped around the table and hugged Sarah. She'd gotten the worst end of the deal after their parents fed the father. "I'm sorry."

She gripped his arm and buried her face in his chest. "It's all a fucking joke anyway." She pulled away and stood on unsteady feet. Sarah fingered the Science Division token on her lab coat and burst into a fit of laughter. "Sick fucking joke."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Max grabbed for his sister's arms, but she jerked away.

Her eyes widened. "Our bodies are the lie." She picked up her fork and dropped it. "That's the lie."

"You're not making any sense!"

Sarah shook her head as if waking from a nightmare. "It's nothing, Max." She looked away. "I'm off my meds."

That explains it. "You'd tell me if Robb did anything to you, right?"

A sad smiled burrowed its way on her face. "If I did, what good would it do? His daddy owns the dome and everyone in it." Sara kissed her brother on the cheek. "Good night."

Before she left, she stopped at the shelf with a picture of their parents and stared at it for a long time, like she did every time she came by. Max let her have all the time she wanted. It was the only thing he found sacred anymore.

Chapter 3

Present Day

That had been the last time Max had a real conversation with Sarah. The only other time had been when she'd shown up at his office a week ago. He remembered the way she paced the floor, how her lips seemed eager to say something more than small talk. Max assumed she was off her meds again.

Max asked if she wanted to go to lunch, but Sarah told him she'd just stopped in to say hi before returning to the science campus. It sounded like a hasty lie. As if she'd changed her mind at the last moment about admitting something more.

Sarah must have done something stupid while off her meds and gotten her into this mess—that had to be it. A ray of hope beat back some of the dark clouds. Alderman would understand that, right? Maybe this was just to scare her into behaving. Robb wasn't the most pleasant man in the world, but he'd always liked Sarah. Damn it all, Robb was one of the few privileged who was actually allowed to choose his own mate. Why would he let her die when they hadn't even frozen a single embryo?

Another mile ticked past. Rain began to fall to the east on an alfalfa field. Sunlight hit the water from the sprinklers far above, casting a wavering rainbow. Max looked back to the north and saw a flock of sheep migrating across the road, a young ranch hand urging them along.

Max slowed, letting them cross so he wouldn't have to exchange greetings. The boy had probably already seen him crest the last rise, but it wasn't anything too strange to see a city dweller out this far. Many enjoyed an afternoon in the outer lands to escape the grim gray of Central. Several minutes later, a gentle hill swallowed the flock and boy from view and Max continued onward.

After a time, he reached the outer fringe where the forest began. Like the farmlands, it followed the curve of the wall, running around the perimeter of the city.

The city's natural CO2 scrubber, Sarah called it.

This section boasted a selection of hardwoods. Softwoods grew to the east where they were selectively harvested if someone in Luxville decided they needed a new piece of furniture.

Max wheeled beneath the shade of the arching branches overhead. Just a little further. His nerves coiled in anticipation of the destination. His constable badge served as a token that opened the airlock since he was the one assigned to send the convicted to whatever fate lay outside. Maintenance also had a token for the monthly inspections.

The inner door wasn't monitored, but when the middle door leading to the outer airlock opened, alarms rang, and an alert sounded on a panel in the main control room back in Science Division. At least, that's what Barnes told Max when orienting him on his duties as constable.

He hoped the man had told him everything. If opening the inner door alerted anyone, his mission would be cut short. Science marshals would arrive within minutes on high-powered bladewheels, easily capable of outrunning Max's. The thought brought him to a halt and a long moment of silent contemplation. Even if he planted the suit, it would only give Sarah a couple extra hours of life outside. No matter what he did, she was going to die.

Then again, she was the only person Max loved—the only reason to keep on struggling through this hollow existence. All these years he'd been dead inside, but Sarah's pending execution awakened something. He felt alive and terrified, but determined to control at least these final few hours he might have—Science Division be damned.

Max gunned the bladewheel across Perimeter Street, between the rising rows of bleachers, and past the podium where the governor made his execution speeches. Two doors of stainless steel shined within the gray concrete wall, dull blades that severed the doomed from the life-giving dome. Max parked the bladewheel and walked up to the token slot, his heart pounding faster with every step. This was it—the moment of truth.

He unslung his bulky cargo. "Where in the hell am I going to hide this thing?" He'd never looked too long at the inner airlock. Anytime he'd escorted someone in to die, he'd hurried out as quickly as possible. How many had he taken to their deaths? Ten? Eleven? He tried not to remember. Tried not to care.

Seeing the door was like witnessing the instrument of Sarah's death. It was her exit from life to the red hell that lay outside.

Large monitors hung on either side of the door so spectators could witness the horror. As if to prolong the execution for their entertainment, Science Division usually outfitted the sentenced with a skintight biodegradable suit and clear facemask. They claimed the suit monitored the exiled person's health and the outside air, giving them vital data.

That was why most people chose to feed the daughter. At least they weren't used as a lab rat. At least they went back into the living earth beneath the dome instead of the dead sands outside. Unless convicted of a high crime, most who fed the daughter were also put to sleep with sedatives so they didn't have to experience the horror of being dropped in the grinder.

Max shuddered.

The monitors always showed the same thing: red sand with high dunes far away. A human form struggling to move through the powdery sand. Their heartrate, shown on the monitors, beating faster and faster. The first spasm as they ran out of the meager oxygen in their mask, body doubling over, hands clenched to their chests.

Some tried to rip off the mask, as if by some miracle, they might find breathable air, but their cramping fingers made it all but impossible. Some tried to run toward the dunes in the distance, as if escape lay over that horizon.

In the end, they fell to the ground, chalky dust rising around them, curled into a ball, and died.

The dust-covered remains of those who'd gone before still lay where they'd fallen. His parents made the red sands halfway to the dunes their bed for a final slumber.

Max wondered how the scientists gleaned any useful information from such brutality. Anger lent him the courage he needed to press his badge into the star-shaped slot next to the doors. They slid open with a faint hiss, revealing the inner airlock. The second door led to the outer airlock, and the third, into the deadly world outside.

He looked around at the bare metal room and wondered what came next. Seams where the plates joined to the superstructure offered no purchase for him to pry one off. He'd need tools for that. After looking around for several minutes, he saw something he'd overlooked—a maintenance panel to the right of the door.

A pull on the latch opened it to reveal a space where pipes and thick cables ran behind the wall. There was just enough room to shove the duffel inside and down out of view. Max clicked it shut, took another look around, and left the airlock. Suddenly nervous, his newfound courage fled, he closed the doors and removed his badge, then quickly got back on the bladewheel and headed into town.

Heart pounding, hands trembling, Max wheeled through the ranch lands. Despite his worries, he saw no pursuit or any indication his visit to the airlock had been noticed. Halfway back he saw a woman in the blue coveralls of the mechworks pulling a cart down the road. As he grew closer, he recognized Alicia Fisher.

"Hello, Constable." She stopped and wiped sweat from her forehead. "Ready for this afternoon?"

Max nearly lost his balance. He stopped the bladewheel and got off. "What do you mean?"

She pointed toward the north. "Someone is feeding the father later today. I'm going to check the airlock and make sure everything is good to go."

Nausea sent a shiver through his body. "Do you really think it needs looking at?"

Alicia shrugged. "I got the order an hour ago." She cast an envious look at the bladewheel. "What do you reckon the odds of us getting something like that?"

Max wanted to vomit. What if she went out there and found the duffel bag? Had he hidden it well enough? He couldn't let her go alone. He had to be there to make sure the bag remained hidden.

Before he could make the suggestion of accompanying her, Alicia spoke again. "Oh, by the way, after Administrator Barnes told me about the feeding, he said he was headed your way." She grimaced. "I think he might be waiting at the station."

Max looked north then south toward town. If he didn't go back to the station, that might make Alicia suspicious. Nobody ignored the administrator when he was looking for you. He grasped for some way to dissuade her. "I really think the airlock is okay. It was just checked out at the end of last month."

Alicia pressed her lips together and looked down at the wagon bearing her tools. "It sure would be nice not to make the trek all the way out there."

"Hey, I won't tell if you don't." Max forced a grin. "It's just busy work, and lugging that equipment around has to be tiring."

"Tell me about it." She scratched her head. "Maybe I'll just have an early lunch and enjoy the view for a while."

The sick feeling faded away and Max nearly cried from the relief. "Enjoy yourself. Reckon I'd better get back to the station." He mounted the bladewheel. "Be seeing you."

"Bye, Constable."

A hundred yards down the road, Max looked back and saw Alicia sitting on her wagon cart eating. He sagged with relief. Maybe this crazy plan would amount to something. As soon as he thought it, he remembered Barnes waiting back at the station. He hoped it meant Alderman would see him.

The administrator was just leaving the station when Max rolled up to it. Barnes narrowed his eyes, probably unhappy he'd had to wait on a civvie.

"You nearly missed your opportunity," Barnes said. He looked at the bladewheel. "Put that away and come with me." He nodded his head toward a saucer-shaped four-seater electric cart.

Max nodded. "Just a moment." He carried the unicycle inside and put it on its charger then took a moment to calm his shaky nerves. He noticed Scarlett wasn't back from the south farms yet, so he left her an encrypted message on the magboard.

Meeting with Terrence Alderman. Back soon.

Max went outside and took the seat next to Barnes on the electric cart. The administrator accelerated toward the west down Main Street. Barnes took a left on Central Street, heading south.

Max glanced to the west and back at Barnes. "We're not going to the science campus?"

"The governor is at home today," the administrator replied. "I should be at the lab working on important projects, but instead, this incident with your sister has me running all over the place."

Max's right fist clenched and it took everything he had not to punch the other man. "I'm sorry Sarah's pending execution has been an inconvenience for you."

Barnes stopped the vehicle and turned on Max. "Let's get one thing straight, Planck. Your sister broke the law. She knew the consequences and did it anyway. You can sulk all you like but it's not going to change anything." He blew out a breath of disgust. "You'd think she might have learned from your parents' example. I suppose she wanted to follow in their footsteps."

The skin on Max's face burned. More than anything, he wanted to transfer the heat through his fists to Barnes's head. "My parents were good, brave people."

"They were cowards." Barnes spit the last word. "If humanity is to survive, we have to follow the rules. I'll authorize executions all day long if it means survival." He shook his head and accelerated. "Bravery is following the rules."

"Must be easy to be brave when you're the one making the rules."

"Says the man who became constable because the governor's son took a liking to his sister," Barnes scoffed.

Max gripped the armrest as tight as he could. It was the only thing keeping him from taking a swing at this pompous ass.

"Go ahead and do it." The administrator looked sideways at Max and sneered. "Please, do us all a favor."

Striking an administrator was treason. It suddenly occurred to Max that Barnes was goading him. He wants me dead. If Max hit him, it would be suicide. It was well known the administrator wanted his nephew, Dominic, to be constable. Instead, Alderman gave the duty to a farmhand. At the time, the assignment seemed amazing to Max. Being the constable brought a considerable increase in pay and benefits. Invisible were the puppet strings manipulated at will by people like the administrator.

Barnes wanted to capitalize on Sarah's predicament. When Max was in his twenties, he probably would have decked the jackass without a second thought. Somehow, he'd survived long enough to know better.

Max forced a smirk. "How's Dominic enjoying the mechworks?"

Barnes seemed to realize his tactic hadn't worked and offered no reply. They passed the outer edge of the gray communes and reached the tall carbon walls of Luxville. Barnes took a left off Alderman Street and onto Founders Lane. He waved his token at the security reader outside the gate, and the thick gates slid open.

Max didn't understand why Luxville surrounded itself with such security. As far as anyone knew, there had never been a revolution under the dome. Then again, dome history only went back a hundred years or so, and since most people became feeders when they couldn't work anymore, there wasn't anyone alive old enough to know except for the administrators.

For an instant, he fantasized about rallying the civvies to rise up against the administration. What gave them the right to say when people ought to live and die? Why should anyone be punished for simple curiosity?

Barnes drove around the circle, past homes rising two stories. Someone in maintenance once told Max some of the houses even had basements. Behind the ring of houses in the middle, the blue water of a swimming pool was visible. Children's laughter and the sound of splashing water echoed. It almost seemed as if they'd left the dome and entered another world.

At the top of the curve sat a white three-story house. Tall columns supported the wide front porch, and an extravagant oak door sat beneath a balcony with black iron railing. Even the windows had wooden decorations next to them. He'd heard them referred to as shutters—something once used to protect the glass against harsh weather.

The front door alone was probably worth a year's earnings.

Barnes stopped and nodded toward the house. "Go," was all he said. The second Max got off the cart, the administrator drove off and vanished around the curve.

Max stared with breathless awe at the mansion for a moment before he managed to gather his wits and move forward. He'd never been inside Luxville, though Sarah had been plenty of times because of Robb. It made Max's small concrete domicile seem pathetically inadequate. He stepped up to the door and ran a finger along the stained hardwood. Everything in the civvie houses was made of pressed laminate wood. Whenever it broke, the recyclers ground it up and pressed it back into new furniture.

Having an entire door made of solid wood seemed incomprehensible. Max admired the tall round columns with their wide etched lines and square bases. He touched one and realized it was some sort of glossy stone veined with traces of brown and beige.

"Ahem."

Max flinched and turned to see an older gentleman in a black and white uniform standing in the doorway, looking at him expectantly. "Constable Max Planck here to see Governor Alderman," he said quickly.

"He is in the back garden," the man said with well-oiled precision. "Please come inside and follow me."

Max took a deep breath and steeled himself. This was his last chance to save Sarah.

Chapter 4

Max stepped inside and his eyes went wide. The entire floor was made of solid wood stained a deep brown. A portrait of a faintly smiling woman with long brown hair hung inside the small entrance room; beyond that, a sculpture of a naked man standing casually, one arm draped over his shoulder.

"This is amazing!" He drew in the scent of foreign odors. Was it the smell of wood, cloth, or something else?

"Sir, if you'll follow me out of the foyer, I'll take you to the back."

"This room is called a foyer?" Max turned in a circle, taking it all in, then followed the servant. Most domiciles had a main room for cooking and eating, a bedroom, and a bathroom. As the constable, he had a kitchen separate from the den. This place had more rooms than he could name. It had its own hallways, stairs, and even an elevator. As they walked through the house, Max's wonder grew heavier until it sat like a stone in his stomach.

What gave one man the right to all this? The administrators made strict rules for the civvies, and a completely different set for themselves. The conservation of limited resources was right near the top of the Constitution, and yet the leader himself openly flaunted the rule.

The servant opened the back door and ushered Max onto a lush green lawn. On a plot of dark earth, red flowers grew on thorny green stems. Vines bearing round berries clung to a wooden frame across from them. Fruit-bearing trees and manicured shrubs ran the length of the huge yard.

Terrence Alderman worked on his knees next to an apple tree. It was one of the few fruits in this place Max could actually put a name to.

The servant stopped. "Sir, the constable is here."

Alderman rose and turned around. Though his skin bore a few worry lines and traces of gray ran through his dark brown hair, the governor didn't look much older than his mid-forties. The man had been in this position even when Max's parents were young, and they'd been executed in their forties. That put Alderman at much higher an age than anyone else in City 7.

"Thank you, Clarence." Alderman's voice was deep and rich—a voice that sounded naturally commanding.

The servant nodded and walked back toward the house.

"I hear you wanted to talk to me," Alderman said. He turned back to the tree and inspected the fruit. "Care for an apple?"

The invitation to eat fruit straight from the tree was nearly too tempting to ignore, but Max wasn't here to enjoy fruit. He was here to save a life. "No thank you, sir."

"Your sister loved these apples," the Governor said, using past tense as if she were already dead.

His words stabbed like a dagger into Max's heart. "Sir, I'd like to respectfully request that you commute Sarah's sentence. I'm sure that whatever she did can be forgiven. She was off her meds and you know how that makes her act."

Alderman grunted and turned toward another tree. He plucked the lone dark brown fruit from the end of a barren branch and looked at it. "Out of everything in this garden, this pear tree has been the most troublesome." He ran his fingers along the bare limb. "Look at this branch. Do you see what's wrong with it?"

Max hid his annoyance at this change in subject. "It doesn't have any leaves." He looked at the rest of the tree. The other bell-shaped fruits were green or yellow. "The fruit is brown, maybe rotten."

"Every so often, one of the branches on this tree dies." He leaned down and picked up a saw. "This branch is useless. It produces rotten fruit, if any, and if I don't prune it, it might kill the rest of the tree."

"Sir, that's fascinating, but—"

"One moment, son." Alderman cut the thin branch with a few swipes, then put it on the ground. He looked around. "I'll have this chipped and added to the rose bed. I think that'll look nice."

Max bit the inside of his lip hard enough to taste blood. He wanted to interrupt this meaningless conversation, but without drawing the ire of the one man who could save his sister.

Alderman picked up the branch and handed it to Max. "Better yet, I'll give this to you so you'll have something to think about."

Max's forehead pinched with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"This dome has served us well, Max, but everything in here is finely tuned and perfectly balanced." The governor picked up a hose and watered the base of the tree. "When you question the rule of law that's kept mankind from extinction for so long, you risk everything, son. One ripple in the order could cause chaos that brings everything to the ground." He turned off the hose and pointed to the branch. "One blighted branch could kill the whole tree."

Max dropped the branch as if it were a snake. "Surely Sarah wasn't questioning your authority, sir. I promise she's not going to kill anything or anyone."

"I can't tell you what she did, son, but I wouldn't have agreed to the classified execution if I thought it was reversible." He sighed and put a hand on Max's shoulder. "I take no pleasure in it, believe me."

"What does Robb think about it?" Max's stomach twisted and knotted painfully. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Robb hates it, but he knows it has to be done."

Tears clouded Max's vision. He wiped them away. "Please, sir, please. I'll do anything. Just let her live." His voice croaked with desperation.

"Son, your sister is infected with the blight of treason." Alderman plucked a round red fruit from the vines behind him. "If I let her live, that blight will spread. It will kill all we've worked for, if allowed to remain." He popped the fruit in his mouth and chewed. "These grapes, on the other hand, have never failed me."

Max didn't care about grapes or fruit tree analogies. His sorrow began to fester into rage. This son of a bitch had ordered the execution of his parents, and now Max was going to lose the last person he loved in this forsaken dome.

"I know you're angry, son, but take comfort. After she was arrested, I ordered her eggs harvested. Even after she's gone, she'll have children with Robb." Alderman rubbed his thumb on the stump of the cut branch. "A fresh disease-free limb will be grafted back onto this tree. Hell, it might even bear different fruit."

The saw looked sharp enough to cut deep into Alderman's throat. All Max had to do was pick it up and swing it hard. It would be suicide to kill the governor, but at this moment, Max had completely run out of concern. The thrum of blood drummed in his ears and the world narrowed to a single point.

Alderman turned back toward the pear tree, almost as an invitation for Max to cut him down. But then he remembered the suit. If Sarah had done something warranting a classified execution, it meant she knew something Max didn't. Maybe she had a plan that would actually keep her alive. If he murdered the governor, he'd end up in the airlock with his sister, and that might wreck everything.

The world refocused and the thrum of blood faded.

Without even turning around, Alderman gave one last order. "Son, pick up the branch and take it with you. I want you to think long and hard about this conversation."

Gritting his teeth, anger seething like a broken pipe in the brassworks, Max bent down and retrieved the branch. It would almost be worth dying to pounce on Alderman and club him to death with fists. Instead, he turned around and returned to the back door since a fence guarded the governor's garden sanctuary.

A gangly man, all skin and bones motioned Max inside when he knocked at the door. Robb Alderman had his father's long nose, dark eyes, and hair, but seemed unable to put on any bulk. Sarah had never been attracted to him, but you didn't turn down the governor's son when he chose you for his mate.

"How is she?" Robb asked after he closed the door. His voice, high pitched and nasal, was the opposite of his father's.

"Locked in the vault with a silencer on her throat." Max swallowed the lump in his throat. "How do you feel about the situation?"

Robb beat the bottom of a fist against a wooden table. "She's mine." He hit the table again. "Mine!" He clenched his fists in impotent rage. "He won't listen to me at all. I tried explaining that Sarah does important work at the labs, too, but none of it matters."

Max repressed a shudder, hearing this boy in a grown man's body talking about Sarah like she was property. If anything, it could work to an advantage. "Whatever she did must be awful for him to take away your mate."

"He won't even tell me what she did," Robb replied. "She was working with the terraforming group, using gravitational equations for spore dispersion. Real simple stuff that's not even classified. It just doesn't make sense."

"That's what's supposed to bring a breathable atmosphere to Mars, right?"

He nodded. "She asked me for access to the gravitational charts about four weeks ago, so I sent her a copy of the file."

Robb's timeline matched about the time Sarah started acting strange. The few times Robb had spoken with Max, he hadn't been talkative or even that pleasant, but Sarah's pending execution gave them a common cause Max might be able to exploit.

"Was there anything unusual about the gravity charts?"

"Gravitational." Robb rolled his eyes as if Max was an idiot. "I was over in Gavin Kearns's office waiting on him when I got Sarah's request." He shrugged. "Kearns had stepped out for a moment and left his workstation unlocked, so I transferred the file from there."

If Terrence Alderman was the governor, Kearns was his lieutenant governor and the man who ran Science Division on a day-to-day basis. "Do you have the same level clearance as Kearns?" Max asked.

Robb snorted. "Hell no." He backhanded the air. "Then again, that doesn't matter for low-level charts.

"Anything else you can remember?"

"Yeah, she wanted to go up to Overlook." Robb pursed his lips. "Access is restricted, of course, but my taking her up there wouldn't amount to treason."

Max knew the next question might not go over well, but asked anyway. "Can you see out of the dome from there?"

Robb didn't even pause. "Sure, you can see a big red blur if you stare long enough." He laughed. "Everyone thinks there must be something magnificent to see, but the solar cells buried in the transparent carbon cloud the view."

If that was the case, why was it restricted?

Robb leaned closer. "There's not another woman in under the dome I want more than Sarah, but even I can't save her." He beat his pitifully small fist against the table again and again and again. "What the fuck did she do to get herself in this mess? Stupid bitch."

Max sucked in a breath before a growl erupted from his throat. He had no illusions Robb even looked at Sarah like a person. She was just an object to own—precious, perhaps, but replaceable. Restraining his growing hatred for this grown child, Max tried one last tactic. "She's definitely one of a kind, but hey, you can't have everything you want, I reckon."

The words drew a sharp look from Robb. "Oh, I can." He pulled up his sleeve and looked at a priceless gold watch with a wireless communications interface. "I've got eight hours to change his mind."

Max stared at the technological wonder on Robb's wrist. It was a testament to how spoiled he was. Lab coats were allowed mobile wireless, but even they couldn't take it off the science campus. Only Governor Alderman, Gavin Kearns, Investigator Simmons, and Lyle Babbage, the head of techworks, had free reign.

"Good luck," Max said at last, uncertain what else he could do to motivate the spoiled brat.

"Yeah, okay." Robb already seemed bored.

The servant entered the room. "Sir Robb, your one o'clock is here."

"Yeah? Great. Send her up to my bedroom." Robb nodded toward the door. "See the constable out."

"Yes, sir." The servant motioned me out. "This way, please."

Max followed the servant. A young girl dressed in the green work clothes of the farmlands looked up at him, wide-eyed and nervous. Max stopped and grabbed the servant. "Why are you taking her up to Robb's bedroom?"

"Sir, that is none of your concern."

Max looked at the girl. "What are you doing here?"

"My parents told me to do whatever Robb Alderman says," she replied in a timid voice.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen this month." She wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"I suggest you leave," the servant said. "Otherwise, I'll be forced to call security."

Max stared at the girl, but there wasn't anything he could do. She was past the age of consent, plus her parents sent her. Just one more thing the supposed lawman in the town was powerless to prevent. He directed a look of disgust at the servant then walked out of the house and to the road.

A marshal in a beige security uniform waited outside. "I'll see you out of the gates." The man stood a good head taller than Max and had the muscles of a corn-fed cow wrangler or a mechworks welder. He wore a black blaster on his hip with an extended battery in the clip, and three spares on the belt.

Max thought he knew all the marshals under the dome, but he didn't know this man. "Don't believe we've met," he said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm Constable Planck."

"I know who you are," the big man said. "This way." He gripped Max's arm, but Max jerked it loose.

All the repressed anger boiled over. "Touch me again and I'll break your fingers."

The big man just stared at him. "This way." He motioned toward the gate.

Max had failed Sarah and now there was nothing he could do but leave.

Chapter 5

Max walked around the circular road, the marshal right behind him. He saw children still playing in the swimming pool. Some of them even had inflatable toys. A house blocked the view for several steps then the blue liquid rippled back into view. There was more water in there than the weekly ration for a hundred people. Every bit of resource usage by the civvies was carefully monitored in a control room by the techworks.

Luxville obviously didn't have rations.

Max wondered if this marshal received any perks, or if he was just another cog in the machine who didn't care about anything unless it was his own sister on the chopping block. The gates opened and Max trudged the remaining distance down Founders Lane to Alderman Street, his mind lost in bitter thoughts.

He was no different than the marshal. In his seven years as constable, he'd done what he was told to do, avoided asking too many questions, and kept his nose out of anything the lab coats told him to ignore. After feeding his parents to the father, he'd just stopped caring.

"They did the crime, they pay the price," he told Scarlett every time she protested his decisions.

His parents died for breaking the law, why should anyone else get a break? Why should he care? The part of him that cried out and felt sick every time he received the name of the next feeder grew quieter with every death. Only now, with his sister's life on the line, had it come fully awake again and finally, finally said, "Enough!"

"Max, wait!"

He spun around and saw Scarlett jogging to catch up with him.

"Sorry, I didn't see you."

"You can't see, and you can't hear." She wiped her face with a cloth. "Guess that makes you perfect for your job." She looked at his hand. "What's the branch for?"

"A reminder of what I am."

"Huh?" She wrinkled her nose. "You asked Alderman for a reprieve?"

"Yeah." His throat went dry.

"It's strange seeing you actually do your job." Scarlett took a drink from her canteen. "Remember Brad Cooper, the twenty year old kid they dropped in the grinder because he asked too many questions about Overlook?"

Max knew what was coming next and squeezed his eyes shut.

Scarlett pushed on. "Just a stupid curious kid. You didn't even try to save him." She spat on the ground. "If I recall, you said something like, well, he's got two more brothers. Maybe they'll learn to keep their mouths shut."

The memory was like another stake driven in his chest. So many stakes until the pain turned to numbness. Every night he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of the old, the young—all of them probably innocent, all of them just a twig to be pruned from the tree of life and ground into fertilizer. Every night he pushed away the ghosts until he found the black oblivion he wanted. His soul had withered and died from abuse and neglect.

Sarah's pending execution had ripped his soul from the afterlife, dragging it kicking and screaming like a wounded beast back to this sad world. "Remind me all you want, Scarlett. This is the most pain I've felt since putting Mom and Dad out the airlock. Considering what I've done since then, I reckon I deserve it."

Scarlett's cheeks went red. "Well, you reckon right, Max!" She shoved him hard in the chest. "Don't you dare stop feeling the pain, you son of a bitch!"

Max grabbed her wrists and squeezed. "Maybe you just feel too damned much to keep a clear head, Scarlett, but don't you worry a bit. This pain keeps me going. It's gonna see me through to one end or another. If I feed, if you become the constable, you remember what you told me, Deputy Scarlett Flynn. You go up against Governor Alderman and Administrator Barnes and all the lab coats. You ask them for justice. They'll give it to you along with a platter of red sand and a feeding suit."

"Let go!" Scarlett tugged her wrists until Max released them. She rubbed them and glared at him. Finally, her eyes softened. "I might like seeing you feed, but not your sister. She isn't a lab coat, not at heart. I know what Robb is like, that degenerate little goat."

"That's treason you're talking," Max warned.

"Then report me." She shoved past him. "I'll see you back in town, Constable."

Max watched her go, red hair bouncing in a ponytail, shoulders stiff and proud. It was a wonder the scientists ever bred redheads. He hadn't known a one to avoid an argument or back down from a fight. Scarlett had been his deputy for four years, and she hadn't liked him for a single one. He didn't much like her either, but he still respected her. Not that it mattered much. Respect wouldn't keep her alive. She wouldn't last a month as constable.

Max walked behind Scarlett all the way back to town, carrying his branch. Not a word was spoken. He had plenty to think about and too much worrying to do without dealing with her. Scarlett, for her part, didn't even look back at him. Max figured she was out of words to tell him how low she thought he was, how hypocritical it was for him to only rise to the occasion when it was his own blood on the line.

When they got back to Central, Scarlett went into the station and slammed the door shut behind her. That door had seen a lot of slamming today, Max thought. It probably had plenty more abuse coming.

For the first time in a long while, Max was tempted to saunter down to the saloon for a drink or two. He'd never had much use for swill and found it made him feel more depressed if he had too much. Today, he needed something, anything, to calm his nerves, but swill wouldn't do. He knew Sarah left some meds at his place—he'd tucked them in the rickety corner cabinet in the bathroom. Maybe she had something to calm him.

The thin presswood door at home scraped the concrete, leaving more chips on the floor when he opened it. He dutifully scooped up the pieces and dropped them in the recycle bin, then went toward the bathroom. He stopped and stared at the picture of his family. Mom smiled big, holding baby Sarah and Dad holding little Max.

Their parents looked happy, and maybe they really were. The scientists were real finicky when it came to selective breeding. They'd paired up Mom and Dad as an ideal genetic match, and it'd just so happened they liked each other, too. The lab coats couldn't tell people who to love, but they sure had a say in everything else.

For the first time in a while, Max noticed the look of adoration in his Dad's eyes as he looked at Mom. Max had tried to forget how much Rick and Claire loved each other. How they spent most of their free time with Max and Sarah out at the farm. How proud they were when Max passed the law exams and became a deputy constable.

The picture blurred and Max didn't try to clear his vision or hold back. He gripped the picture, sat on the floor, and cried.

When at last the sobs stopped shaking his body, he slid the picture from the frame and pressed it to his heart. "I won't forget anymore, Mom and Dad. I promise."

Six Years Earlier

Max watched Rick and Claire pull on their feeding suits while marshals supervised from outside the inner airlock. Max hadn't seen this coming, not for a minute. In his short tenure as constable, he'd had absolute faith in the rule of law. Now he didn't know what to think, what to believe.

"No!" Sarah appeared at the door, arms held fast by one of the marshals.

"Let her in," Terrence Alderman said from outside. "They have a few minutes to say goodbye."

Sarah rushed inside and buried her face in Dad's chest. "Why?" she sobbed. "Why is this happening?"

Mom met Alderman's gaze through the airlock door, then looked away. "We can't say, sweetheart."

"Tell me now!" Sarah's face, red with anger, wet with grief, quivered under the weight of too much emotion.

Max blinked the blur from his eyes. "They can't, Sarah. Anyone they tell faces a feeding." He took a deep breath. "Say goodbye and make it count before the marshals make you leave."

She gripped her parents around their necks and pulled them into her. Mom looked at Max, her eyes red, a single tear pooling in the corner and trickling down her face. Mom and Dad had been brave, but Sarah was testing them with her unrestrained sorrow.

They'd done something—something awful—to deserve this punishment. He'd had to lock them in the vault last night, both wearing silencers on their necks, and wonder what in the hell landed them there. Dad was a farmer and Mom a lab coat. Max didn't understand why Mom's position hadn't protected her. He didn't understand how a farmer had gotten wrapped up in treason charges.

Now the clock ticked down to the end, to the last time he'd see the people who'd brought him into this world under the dome. The last time he'd see the love in his mother's eyes, or feel the weight of his father's hand clapping him proudly on the back. His family was the only right thing in this tiny world, and now he was being told it was all wrong.

"Science knows what's best," the lab coats always said. But does science know what's right?

"The law is the law," Max mumbled under his breath as daggers pierced his heart over and over. "The law is the law." The mantra gave him no strength.

Robb Alderman entered the airlock and grabbed Sarah's arm. He patted Dad on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of your little girl."

Dad's jaw went rock solid, and his eyes blazed. But he didn't say a word. Didn't dare do anything to jeopardize the lives of his children. He kissed his daughter on the cheek. Mom kissed Sarah's forehead, her nose, her cheeks, like she did when Sarah was little.

"Come on," Robb said to Sarah as he dragged her outside. "I'm sure they've had enough of your histrionics."

"Time to get on with it, Constable," Governor Alderman said. "Do your duty."

Max nodded numbly. He checked the single-piece suits, making sure the zippers were all the way up and sealed, the hoods tight around their heads. The suits were the same color red as the sand outside and fit like children's pajamas with gloves at the ends of the sleeves—all the more fitting for the eternal sleep just minutes away.

Mom kissed his cheek. "I love you, Max. Take care of your sister and live a full life."

Dad gripped his hand. "I'm proud of you, son. Don't ever for a minute feel that this is your fault."

"Don't feel guilty for doing your job," Mom added.

Max bit down to keep his chin from trembling. "Forgive me," he whispered.

Dad shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive, son. We do this willingly."

"Maybe one day the lie will reveal itself," Mom said, quickly shutting her mouth as if she'd said too much.

"Masks," Alderman said, still outside the door.

Max hadn't seen the governor enter the airlock for a single feeding. He handed his parents the clear plastic facemasks. The few puffs of oxygen they held might keep his parents breathing for a few seconds before they asphyxiated in the cold, airless void. They put them on. As he turned to walk outside the airlock, Max tried to look brave, like a man who knew he was only doing his duty. He couldn't bring himself to say the three words that mattered, because they would completely undo do him.

Instead, he bottled them inside and stepped out of the airlock. With one last look at his parents' faces, Max shut the door.

"You son of a bitch!" Sarah broke free from Robb and slapped Max hard in the face. She slapped him again and again. "You killed them!"

Max let her hit him until he tasted blood in his mouth, until Robb grabbed her from behind and hauled her away. Right then, Max regretted not telling his parents how much he loved them. How much he'd miss their talks and the visits to the farm. I didn't even tell them goodbye. More than anything, he wanted to open the airlock door again, rush back inside, and tell them how he felt. Dying with them would be better than this.

Looking brave for these people was bullshit! He looked at the faces of those sitting in the stands. Some looked eager for the show. Others wore looks of dull acceptance. The spectacle would be broadcast on monitors all over the city to remind everyone what happened to traitors.

Governor Alderman went through his speech about the founders and duty to humanity and how this little speck of a dome contained all that was left.

"Before humankind destroyed itself, it launched a mission to the nearest planet, Mars. We are the seed for a new world. We are all that is left of a once great civilization. Sacrifice and hard work will help us reach that goal again. All it takes is one blighted mind to destroy everything we worked for. To that end, we feed these husks back to the daughter, or to the father that provides our new home. Our father is hard and merciless, but he will forge us into something great. Today, he is fed, that we all might survive."

While he spoke, Max imagined what was happening this very moment—the second airlock door opening and barbs of electricity driving his parents forward into the outer airlock.

Alderman looked across the crowd, his eyes dark, soulless voids. "The past is gone!"

"The future remains," the crowd chanted.

"May our sacrifice nourish the father," Alderman said and drew a line across his neck.

The great monitors flickered on, revealing the red barren landscape, the high dunes a hundred yards in the distance.

Rick and Claire appeared, their backs to the camera, chalky red dust rising around their feet. They walked hand-in-hand toward the dunes, never once looking back, even when the spasms hit them. They made it halfway to the red hills before Claire collapsed in Rick's arms. He lowered her gently to the ground, then lay beside her. His body shook violently at the end, sending a cloud of dust into the air, but his hand never left his wife's.

Alderman's lips peeled back from his teeth as he watched. He pressed a button and turned off the video.

Max realized the governor was angry. For a moment, he dared feel proud. Alderman might have ordered them to their deaths, but they kept their dignity.

Unfortunately, Max lost his soul to the machine only months later.

Chapter 6

Present Day

When Max's vision cleared, he noticed a slip of paper on the floor next to the picture frame. Real paper was rare outside of Science Division. Most civvies used magpads for notes since they could be cleared and reused indefinitely. The paper was slightly yellow around the edges, meaning it hadn't been put in there recently.

He unfolded it and found nothing but unintelligible equations. The only notations he could understand were, grav ratio, rotation, annual cycle, mass. It was some sort of physics equation, probably something of Mom's.

What was this slip of paper, this peek into the past? Mom had hidden it in the only item of true value in the house, had put it there for a reason. Before her death, she'd said something similar to what Sarah told him a few weeks ago. The truth to the lie was probably scrawled on this very bit of paper, in plain sight, but undecipherable by someone like Max.

He wasn't sure what to do with it, so he put it and the picture back into the frame. The only person he could safely ask was secure in the vault, and the token that opened it in the hands of Administrator Barnes.

For now, he had to think about what came next.

What ideas Max had were crushed and fragmented by the weight of what was to come in a few scant hours. He couldn't muster any sort of plan outside what Sarah had already provided for him by blinking her eyelids. Here he was, a lawman, a supposed detective with a clue close at hand and years of experience hunting down troublemakers who chose to hide, yet he couldn't think of a single way to save his sister.

Maybe it was because he knew all the hiding places, knew there were few places to go, he felt so hopeless about mounting any sort of resistance. If only he knew more about Sarah's plan with the suit. If only she could talk—he stopped the thought right there and rolled it around in his mind.

"Maybe she can talk," he murmured.

Max gathered himself, going into the bathroom to make sure his face showed no traces of crying. Looking back at him, he saw a man with a youthful face, but old eyes that had seen too much. The longer he stared, the more lines he counted, each one adding more years to that face. How many more lines would he add before his final day arrived? Perhaps this was the final tally. If Sarah died, he would be all alone. Why hold on to an empty existence?

He spared a splash of water for his face, certain a machine somewhere counted even the tiniest amount and deducted it from his allowance, then he squared his shoulders and let his face go flat. The water was all the drug he needed to make things clearer. It was time to talk with Sarah.

Scarlett lifted her head from her desk when Max entered the station.

"I reckoned you were down at the saloon," she said, eyes measuring his every move. "Figured you'd hit the end of your rope and given up."

"What more do you expect me to do?" Max said. "I spoke with the governor and he said no. The facts are classified, so I got no foundation for a hearing."

"I'm not faulting you, Max." She stood and shook her head. "Not this time. I just hope you're there for the next person." Scarlett walked across the room and poked a finger into his chest. "You feel that little spark in there? That's compassion. I sure hope you can remember what it feels like, Max. Maybe the next person faced with a feeding will have a chance."

Max pushed her finger away and poked his at her forehead. "Maybe you need to get it through your mind that once the lab coats decide you're guilty, there's no such thing as having a chance." He walked over to his desk and shuffled through the complaint forms. "Looks like the Henderson boy is causing trouble again." He looked at the next one. "Seems someone might be stealing eggs from Farm Six."

"As you well know, I just came from the farms." Scarlett's cheeks turned pink as she set her arms akimbo. "It can wait 'til tomorrow."

Max shrugged. "Fine, but looks like you got plenty to see to right here in town."

"Trying to get rid of me again?" Scarlett looked toward the jail cells. "If you want some alone time with Sarah, you just come out and say it. I got no problem giving you some privacy."

Max dropped the forms back on the desk. "I'd like some time alone with my sister, Scarlett."

Her arms dropped to her sides and the pink in her fair cheeks faded. "That's all you had to say." Scarlett walked over and sorted through the magnetic forms, picked out a couple. "Guess I'll tend to these while I'm out."

"Thank you." After his deputy left, Max opened the door to the cells. After reaching the vault, he dug into dusty old memories and tried to revive what little he remembered. Using his badge, he tapped the vault door quickly four times then twice. Hi.

A faint muffled slapping replied. The padding inside the vault would make it hard for Sarah to reply, but maybe he could get some answers.

"I found equations hidden in the picture frame," Max said aloud.

Sarah tapped back, From Mom.

"You knew all this time?"

Yes.

"What does it mean?"

The response came after a long pause. Wrong numbers. Kearns has different numbers.

Max thought back to what Robb had said. "Robb said he'd sent you a file from Kearns's computer."

Sarah made an angry animalistic sound, then pounded back an answer. Yes. Tricked Robb. Real file classified.

"Why would a gravity chart be classified?" Max didn't know much about physics, but he knew what held him to the ground.

Not nine point eight.

"I don't understand."

Three point seven.

Max leaned his forehead against the cool metal. "What does that mean?"

Sarah made an exasperated sound. Gravity.

"You mean the gravity here is three point seven, but the chart said it was nine point eight?"

Real chart said Mars three, Earth nine. She was apparently tired of pinging out the decimal points.

Max didn't know what to do with these figures. If gravity on Earth was higher than Mars, so what? He'd been born and raised here, so he wouldn't know the difference unless he somehow ended up back on Earth.

Sarah pounded out another phrase. Genetics wrong.

"For what?"

The next tapping came much fainter. Arms tired.

Slapping the padding over and over apparently took a toll. "You rest. I'll be back soon."

Max went to his desk and wrote the numbers down on a magpad. Even with his meager math skills, it was obvious that gravity on Mars was a lot less than Earth. Only kids who tested well for the science path actually went on to learn about it. The rest learned what was applicable to their field.

Growing up on the farm taught Max a lot about the physical world, but not much about the theoretical one. His testing revealed strength in analysis and logic, but he was told his aptitude result for science fell short. Sarah missed the mark too, but Robb Alderman had an interest in her, and that was all the aptitude she needed. At first she'd been happy to avoid a life in mechworks, but grew to resent her life in Science Division.

Max wondered what else the tests revealed about a person. They were all taken by computer, the subject monitored closely. All the civvies were just lab rats in a big maze. Unfortunately, he didn't have the imagination or the scientific education to guess the purpose.

Ignorant—that's what he was, what they all were. The lab coats kept everyone in the dark, put each person in their own little silo with a tiny little slit so they could see only what was right in front of them. The only kind of mingling between the different classes of civvie workers happened at the saloon. The lab coats probably had their own drinking hole on campus.

Max erased the numbers from the pad. Whatever Mom had seen in them, whatever made Sarah doubt this life, was invisible to Max's limited frame of reference. He had to stick to the hard facts in front of him.

Lunchtime came, but he couldn't make himself eat. The front door creaked open and a middle-aged man in a lab coat stepped inside. Max had seen that face many times over his years as constable and he grew to dread it more every time. The man was a lab coat, but primarily the investigator for the administration.

Investigator Oswald Simmons nodded. "Always a pleasure, Constable."

Max definitely couldn't say the same. "How can I help you, Simmons?"

The investigator's bushy brown eyebrows pinched together. "I'm here to feed the prisoner and get her last meal request." He held up the token for the vault.

Max eyed the token and stood. "This way."

"Alone," Simmons said. He waved a hand toward the closed door to the cellblock. "I'll need you to open it."

"I don't understand," Max said. "You normally don't care—"

"This is a classified matter," Simmons said.

"I just want to see my sister."

"Absolutely not. Administrator Barnes gave me specific directions."

Max got up and opened the main door.

"Please leave the station," Simmons said. "Remain outside until I leave."

That seemed like the worst possible punishment to Max. "Why can't I at least see her?"

"One more argument from you, and she'll get no food."

Max turned stiffly and went outside. Simmons usually brought in the prisoners for lockup after he'd interrogated them, but Barnes had brought in his sister instead. Everything had been irregular from the start. The only reason to make Max leave the station was because the investigator hadn't questioned Sarah yet.

He went up the outside staircase to a locked door that clicked open when he pressed his badge into the slot. The evidence room stretched the length of the station, but saw little use. Most evidence was too valuable to leave locked up in a room and was generally put back in supply. Even a stainless steel knife that had been used for murder ended up back in someone's kitchen eventually.

Down past the rows of empty tables and shelves was a vent grate Max had used a number of times. In cases of disputes where the constable had final say, he found it useful to lock accomplices in a cell together and leave them alone. They'd eventually talk and Max would listen to their unintentional confessions.

Kneeling quietly on the dusty cement, Max tilted an ear toward the grate. The creak of the vault door preceded muttered instructions from Simmons.

"Turn around," he said.

A moment later, Sarah spoke. "What do you want, Simmons?"

The man must have removed Sarah's silencer. Hearing her voice again brought tears to Max's eyes.

"Here is your lunch," Simmons said. Something clicked.

"Why are you here?" Sarah asked again.

"I have some follow up questions. First, do you know why your parents were expulsed?"

"No."

"Please be truthful, Sarah," Simmons said in a sickeningly calm voice.

"I know my mother stumbled onto something she shouldn't have seen," Sarah replied. "Ever since you bastards killed my parents, I wanted to know what it was. I guess I must have found it."

"In truth, your mother discovered nothing of consequence, but she was too relentless in her quest for answers." Simmons cleared his throat delicately. "Unfortunately, she shared her research with your father, condemning him as well."

"For what?" Sarah said. "I'll be dead in a few hours so you might as well tell me."

"Let me be clear, Sarah: There is nothing to hide, no secrets to uncover." A nauseating smugness hung heavy on Simmons's words. "Your mother spread her paranoia and delusions to your father. The governor saw the danger of such rumors spreading like a virus." He paused. "You see what I'm saying, yes?"

"You're lying."

"It appears the paranoia is genetic, Sarah. Once we realized what you were doing, we knew there was no choice but to act."

Sarah huffed. "You're a sad little man, do you know that? By this afternoon, I'll be lying dead on the red sand outside and you can't even admit the truth to me. Are you so afraid of it, Simmons?" She gasped. "Oh, or perhaps you actually believe what Alderman, Kearns, and the others told you. If that's the case, you're the one who's delusional."

"Hardly," Simmons said. "Your brother may be the civilian constable, but I'm the only law enforcer that matters. To such ends, I know all there is to know, and I tell others what to know."

Sarah responded with scornful laughter. "I guess you weren't smart enough to be a real lab coat."

A loud pop rang out, hand on flesh, and Sarah whimpered.

"You're right, of course," Simmons said, his calm voiced edged with pride. "I'll tell you something I only told to your mother before her death. You came even closer than she did to discovering a single detail that would unravel this place like a ball of rolling yarn." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps I'll give you the answer you seek if you cooperate with my questions."

Sarah didn't respond right away, probably weighing how much the answer was worth with her dying soon. "What do you want to know?"

"Did you tell anyone else anything about your suspicions?"

"No," she replied.

"Written anything down? Made copies of files?"

Max could almost picture Sarah biting her lip as she hesitated with the answer. "I copied Kearns's gravitational charts file and saved it on server thirteen under a folder named statistics."

"Thank you." Simmons probably put a check on a slip of paper with each answer, Max decided. "Anything written?"

"No."

"Was there anyone else you hoped might be an accomplice?"

"What happens to anyone I name?" she asked.

"I would like to know why you thought you could trust them."

"So you could keep an eye on them?"

"They would be entered as a person of interest for one year, until such time as their lack of treason proved them not guilty," Simmons said. "A reasonable precaution."

"I'd like to amend an earlier answer," Sarah said. "There was one person I trusted—one person I told about my suspicions."

Max could almost see the investigator's eyes flashing. "Oh?"

"Robb Alderman."

Max had to stifle a chuckle. His sister might be down, but she had plenty of fight in her. While her brother had been marching blindly, Sarah had been secretly fighting the machine. How she'd managed to do it so long without being caught was amazing.

"Did you really tell Robb?" Simmons sounded unconvinced.

"Yes. He believed me, too. That's why he used Kearns's computer to send me the gravitational charts file."

"Yes, he admitted to doing that," Simmons replied. "Don't think for a moment he'll feed the father with you."

"Fine with me. I suppose it doesn't matter that he wants to bring down his father so he can be the governor."

Simmons chuckled. "It doesn't work that way."

"I know. I'm certain Kearns would be next in line. Maybe Robb will kill him too."

"These are serious accusations, Sarah."

"Well, maybe I'm just lying," she said.

Simmons cleared his throat again—apparently a nervous habit. "Thank you for your help, Sarah. Unfortunately, it's time to put back on your silencer."

"What about my answers?" she said.

"Oh, yes." He laughed. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. Your last moments alive will be spent wondering why you died."

Chapter 7

"I assumed you wouldn't tell me," Sarah replied, then calmly said, "In scientific terms, you're a lying piece of steaming shit, Investigator Simmons. I'm certain the breeding labs will make sure to expunge your genetic code from the database so they don't accidentally birth another skin bag of pure excrement."

"Since we're being scientific," Simmons said, "let's observe Newton's Third Law."

A loud slap echoed. Sarah cried out. Max's fists clenched impotently. He wanted to run downstairs and break the man's neck. Simmons hadn't even admitted anything—apparently, he wasn't one to gloat.

"What would you like for a last meal?" Simmons asked.

"Your roasted head on a platter," Sarah spat back.

"Since that's not possible, I'll decide for you. Bread and cheese, perhaps?"

Sarah went silent, and the vault door creaked shut a moment later.

Max eased himself up quietly and quickly made his way downstairs. He leaned against the edge of the building and stared into the street as if he'd been waiting there all along.

Simmons emerged from the station and glanced at Max. "You may go back inside, Constable."

"Can't I at least see her while you're here with the key?" Max asked.

"Afraid not."

Max's bones groaned with the effort of holding back physical rage. "Don't you have a heart buried in there somewhere, Simmons? I'll bet your parents are real proud."

"My parents, whoever they were, died long before I was born." The investigator folded his arms behind his back and stepped nose-to-nose with Max. "I'm what you civvies refer to as a freezer baby."

"Doesn't make you special," Max said. "Plenty of civvies born that way."

"Yes, but your family was…rare." Simmons looked Max up and down. "Your parents were allowed to naturally beget two children." He shrugged. "A shame it didn't result in productive members of society."

"You mean cogs." Max clamped his mouth shut before he spoke treason.

Simmons seemed to take no offense. "A finely tuned machine produces superior results." He boarded an electric cart. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Constable."

Watching the investigator drive away, Max decided he despised this man even more than he hated Richard Barnes. Duties Max did with a heavy heart, this man did with glee. He went back inside and walked toward the vault. He noticed something different, but it took a moment to pinpoint exactly what it was. A small gray lump stood out on the ceiling above the vault door.

He fixed his eyes on the vault door and pretended not to see the lump since he knew the lump could look right back at him and hear everything he said. He'd accidentally found one such eavesdropping device during one of his early investigations into treason charges and had nearly been sent to the airlock himself.

Simmons probably hoped Sarah's accomplices would visit. She might not be able to talk, but all the investigator cared about was seeing who came. From what little Max knew, his sister had acted alone in whatever she'd done. He pieced together a little more of the puzzle. Sarah found Mom's equation and decided to solve it, but realized something was wrong with the numbers in the gravitational charts.

She manipulated Robb into using Kearns's computer to send her the file with the correct information. Shortly thereafter, Barnes had taken her into custody and brought her here. There was still a lot that didn't make sense. Why hadn't Simmons been the one to arrest her? Why hadn't he interrogated her on the science campus?

Max stared at the metal door, wanting to say something encouraging to his sister, but knowing better to say anything with the surveillance device. "I love you, sis."

Sarah replied with a muffled cry.

He went back to his desk and sat down, tried to think. It took a few minutes of twisting and turning the pieces until he found more that might fit. Simmons hadn't arrested or kept Sarah on the science campus, either because he was unable to do so at the time or because he decided she should be brought here to root out any collaborators.

An icy chill worked its way up his back as he considered the implications. What if they'd bugged the station before bringing Sarah in? What if they'd been watching all this time? Max banged his fist on the desk. How could he be so stupid? He'd seen Simmons operate like this before. Max had watched two people walk to their dooms when they visited Edwin Mill, suspected of speaking out against the Constitution.

Simmons hadn't let Max hear what was captured by the eavesdropping equipment, but whatever it was condemned the primary suspect to feed the daughter. The other two had vanished, presumably locked up somewhere secret, maybe even on science campus.

What were the names of those poor souls? Max closed his eyes, letting the faces of ghosts drift by. He saw the faces of a man and a woman. What were their names? He didn't need long to remember. After all, he'd heard both earlier today: Josephine Walls and Brent Carlisle. They were the two transfers who'd died in the brassworks.

Alderman might have complete power here, but he had to know too many feedings at once would stir resentment among the population until it boiled into a revolt. Even the governor and his cronies had to be careful not to prune too many branches or they'd kill the tree. If Barnes was Alderman's bulldog, Simmons was the black panther lurking silently in the tree, waiting to pounce.

He'd used Edwin Mill as a honeypot to bring out the traitorous bees, and now Sarah was his bait. The problem was, nobody was biting, unless Max had already swallowed the worm without knowing. Even now, he might have a hook in his mouth, a patient fisherman waiting before reeling him in.

Max cursed himself one more time for good measure, then stood and left the building. He leaned against the wall outside and looked up and down Main Street. Thanks to the builders, few structures in Central had windows, and there were few alleys between the connected buildings. Everyone grumbled about having to walk a hundred yards down Main so they could use Alderman Street or First to circle around to the communes.

The lack of care on the builders' part made it easier for Max to see nobody was watching the station—at least not nearby. The roofs were flat, offering no concealment, so even if Simmons parked himself on a building much further down, he wouldn't have a good view.

Max walked around the corner and upstairs to the evidence room. He went to the middle row of shelving and picked up the corner of the middle unit. Careful not to scrape the concrete, he rotated the shelf back a few feet to reveal a large divot in the floor. Inside it sat what he'd stolen from supply and several devices left behind by his predecessor.

Constable Walton had been a good man who'd taught Max everything he knew. Once he trusted his deputy constable, Walton had shown him these instruments and how they worked. The small silver bit of metal was a bug. The gray wand next to it detected bugs. Such equipment was the sole domain of Simmons, and Max's mentor had never told him how he came to possess such sensitive items. He had told Max that they were only to be used in an emergency.

He bent down and picked up the detector and bug. Whatever battery technology they used still worked just fine even after so many years of sitting in a hole beneath a shelf. Max turned on the bug and tested the detector. A red light flashed faster and faster, going solid when the wand was within a few inches of the bug. He turned them off.

Max tucked the detector in his pocket and rotated the shelf back into place. When he looked up from the task, he jumped back with surprise.

Scarlett shook her head. "What are you doing up here, Max?"

"How did you know I was up here?"

"I came out of the saloon and saw you turn the corner." She frowned. "What's happened? You look pale as a ghost."

Max tried to deflect. "What were you doing at the saloon?"

She held up a complaint card. "Keeping busy, Constable." Scarlett frowned at him again then headed for the exit, apparently unaware of Max's true purpose.

He turned on the wand and hid it in his long sleeve to hide it from Scarlett and any cameras inside the station. His deputy sat at her desk wiping complaint cards clean. Max kept his back to her and looked at the detector. The light remained green. He paced around the room, trying to look as if he were thinking hard. Scarlett looked up at him with curious eyes, but turned back to wiping the cards.

It wasn't until he wandered into the cellblock that the light on the detector began to blink red, faster and faster the closer he stepped to the bug he'd noticed earlier. By the time he finished his sweep, he felt confident it was the only bug. Max dared hope the investigator hadn't eavesdropped on Max's earlier conversation with Sarah. He left the cellblock and closed the door behind him. The solid steel should mute any conversations from the front of the station.

"Max Planck, you're driving me to distraction," Scarlett said. "You keep walking back and forth looking at the walls like they might bite you."

"Maybe they will," he shot back. "Maybe this whole damned dome already bit us and swallowed us whole."

She leaned back in her chair. "That doesn't make a lick of sense."

"It makes too much sense to me." Max felt all the wind run out of him. He'd reached the end of his chain and run in smaller and smaller circles until he ended up pinned against the stake in the ground. No matter how far he wandered, he ended up back in this building, powerless to save anyone.

He remembered the sad look Pooka, the border collie, used to give him when she wound her chain so tight around the stake she couldn't even move. That dog knew she was bred for herding cattle, but the only animals on the farm were chickens. Since Dad didn't want her chasing chickens, he kept her tied up. He eventually couldn't take her whining any longer and took Pooka back to the rancher who'd given her to him.

Max once thought he was meant for something great, but the sad realities of this life had caught up to him. He wasn't here to investigate or prove anyone's innocence. He was just on display to make the civvies think they had rights, to make them think justice existed.

There were just four hours to go until Sarah's execution, and he'd run out of ideas.

Max sagged into his chair and put his head on the desk. A strong hand squeezed his shoulder. He looked up and saw Scarlett standing next to him.

"Were you like this before?" she asked.

He nodded numbly. "I used to pester Simmons and Barnes to no end, telling them I needed proof before one of my civvies was going to feed." A wry laugh escaped him. "Maybe they just humored me, Scarlett. Maybe they found it funny that I actually thought I was the law here. Constable Walton used to fight tooth and nail with Science Division."

"He fell down some stairs and broke his back, right?" Scarlett said. "They fed the daughter with that man before he even woke from his coma."

"Yeah. After my parents fed the father, Simmons came up to me and told me that he hoped I finally understood my place." Max ground his teeth. "He said Constable Walton was a bad example for me. The way he spoke about it, I realized right then that Walton's death wasn't an accident."

Scarlett's eyes flared big. "Best you don't repeat that to anyone else."

"You gonna report me?" Max looked up at her.

"Nah." She walked back over to her desk and picked up some complaint cards. "I don't hate you near as much today as I usually do. If feeding your sister doesn't drive you insane, maybe you got a chance at being half decent again."

Max squeezed his eyelids tight. The thought of sending his sister to feed just about did him in. His foot bumped into the safe under his desk. A pair of six-shot blasters sat inside. Twelve shots to kill someone who mattered. If Sarah fed, then fuck it, so should Alderman, Barnes, or Simmons. The investigator probably wouldn't be there, but the governor and administrator went to all feedings.

The vice gripping his stomach went slack. The ice in his chest melted. For the first time in years, his purpose was clear. They'd expect him to suit up Sarah. He'd do that, then close the airlock doors. She should have enough time to put on the toughsuit and helmet while the governor made his speech. Just like when Max had sent his parents out the airlock, he'd have to stand on stage next to the governor and confirm Sarah's guilt before the big speech. The administrator would say his bit about sentencing her to feed, and then they'd send Sarah to the outside.

But this time it would be different. This time, Max would hide his blasters under his uniform. He'd pull them out and kill Barnes and Alderman. While Sarah died outside, the marshals would kill Max. They'd die together, brother and sister. Maybe Sarah would reach the bodies of their parents. It made him a little sad he couldn't curl up next to his family and take his final breath, but seeing Alderman and Barnes lying in their own blood would more than make up for it.

"You look like you've found peace, Max Planck."

He saw Scarlett watching him intently. "I reckon I have, Scarlett."

She smiled. "Good."

Max felt light as a ghost. It was time to join the people he hadn't tried to save.

Chapter 8

The hours couldn't slip past fast enough. Waiting was torture and Max was ready to die.

He sent Scarlett on another errand so he could take out the blasters and check them. He made sure the round energy cells were full and clipped them on beneath the barrels. A bit of heavy duty grip tape he'd stolen from maintenance on one of his earlier runs secured the holsters inside his uniform jacket.

Max practiced drawing them from the awkward angle. He imagined his targets standing on the stage in front of him. Relished the idea of their brains exploding from their ears when the energy blew through the back of their skulls and boiled their brains like stew. If he had a few more seconds of life, he might even take out Robb. That was probably just fantasy, but it filled him with sadistic joy.

Satisfied he could fulfill his duty, he tucked away the blasters and went into the cellblock where he sat on the floor and leaned back against the vault door. "I'm here, sis," he said.

She slapped the padding inside. I love you, Max.

Concerned Simmons might know the code and hear it on his bug, Max said, "I wish Simmons had let me see you earlier. I still feel like he's here watching."

Three long slaps. O. Sarah got the message.

If Simmons wanted to spy on conversations, he was about to get an earful, at least from Max.

"Hey, sis, remember the first time Dad made us fetch eggs from the chicken coop?

She replied with a strangled laugh.

Max couldn't stop from grinning. Then he recounted stories from their childhood one after the other, filling the time they had left together with good memories. If he had anything to be grateful for, it was that they'd had it good growing up on a farm with a mom and dad who loved each other and who loved their kids. The freezer babies usually had it the worst—assigned parents who'd been forced to cohabitate by the state because they were sterile.

He figured Alderman, Barnes, Simmons, and their lot were probably all freezer babies and that was what made them so inhumane.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he continued story time with Sarah. He imagined her leaning against the padded door inside listening and crying. Max stopped wiping his eyes and let the tears flow until he was dry. After a while, he checked his watch. It was nearly time.

Barnes showed up two minutes late. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Max sitting on the floor. "Ready to go, I see."

Max stood and repressed a grin as he imagined Barnes dropping limply to the ground with a blaster hole in the back of his head. "I'm ready."

The administrator grunted. "That's a good boy." He opened the vault door. Sarah stumbled out of the darkness, blinking at the sudden light.

Max held her around the waist and kept her upright. "You ready, sis?"

She looked calmly at him and nodded.

"Compliance. How nice." Barnes motioned Max ahead of him. "You may sit in the back of the cart with her if you wish."

"Thanks," Max said. Mindless obedience has its rewards. He and Sarah went outside and climbed onto the back of the electric cart. "Would it be too much to ask to remove the silencer?" he asked Barnes.

"I'm afraid so." The administrator hopped in the front seat and accelerated, turning north on Alderman Street.

Sarah wrapped her arms around Max and leaned on his shoulder. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. It seemed there was nothing to say and nothing to do but to enjoy each other's company one final time.

Max glanced up at the dome overhead. Sunlight sparkled on the crystalline barrier that protected City 7 from the wasteland outside. He wondered if this seed of mankind would ever blossom and flower, or as Alderman suggested, if it would die from disease. If anything, Max thought, too much pruning might deal the deathblow. He wished he could have changed this awful place while alive. It seemed his death and the assassination of two top officials might be far more effective.

Then again, it might change nothing. Kearns or Simmons might take over and matters could grow even worse.

At least it's change.

He tried to take comfort in that.

The wall grew closer and closer. Max expected to feel the crush of despair on his chest, or the painful wrenching of his nerves. Instead, he was filled only with excited anticipation, like the day they'd gone to pick up Pooka, or the time they'd gone to the water farms and been allowed to fish for their own food.

That the murder of two humans should rival the best moments of childhood was a terrible testament to Max's life. He squeezed Sarah's hand. His sacrifice might give him a taste of redemption.

They arrived at the airlock. The stadium seats were already filled. Surprisingly, there were a large number of lab coats in attendance. They usually watched from the comfort of their own campus. He supposed Barnes made them come to remind the scientists that even they could die if they didn't blindly submit.

Alderman stood next to the stage talking with a short man with salt and pepper hair. Max realized with a start it was Kearns, and next to him stood Simmons. Sarah's eyes flared.

The governor, administrator, investigator, and head researcher all in one place. Max wondered if he could kill them all. No matter what, Alderman died. Simmons or Kearns might be the next priority targets.

"You should feel honored," Barnes said. "Everyone came out to watch this feeding."

Simmons glanced their way and a greasy smile slithered over his face. He turned and went inside the first airlock door, which was already open.

Barnes patted his balding head with a handkerchief. "Do your duty, Constable." His voice held the faintest hint of a mocking tone.

Max nodded and led Sarah by the arm, Barnes walking a few feet behind.

"I don't know what you plan to do with that suit," Max whispered. "Maybe you know something I don't."

Sarah nodded and grunted.

"If you make it to Mom and Dad, tell them I love them."

A tear pooled in her eye. She squeezed his hand in the code. I will—Max didn't feel the rest of her squeezes as they stepped up to the first airlock door and shock slapped him in the face. Simmons stood inside next to Scarlett. Tears streamed down the deputy's face. In her hands, she held two feeding suits.

"What the—" Max didn't need to finish the question. He stared at Simmons. "You're killing both of us?"

"I'm afraid you did this to yourself," Simmons said. He held up the duffel bag with the toughsuit in it. "Aiding and abetting a traitor, Constable." He made a tutting sound.

Max went for his blasters. Before he could even get them out, someone gripped him from behind, bending his arms back until he screamed.

"You won't need these," Simmons said, removing the blasters. He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid his treason runs even deeper than we thought."

Alderman and Kearns stepped closer.

"I knew the founders were wrong about them," Kearns said. "There is no ideal genetic match."

"We must do as the founders say," Alderman said. "Perhaps they'll see now that we know best."

"The founders?" Max said. "How could they possibly be alive?"

"See them to the airlock, Garth," Alderman said.

Someone shoved Max roughly toward the airlock. He looked back and recognized the marshal from Luxville. "Enjoy being a cog in the machine," he spat.

Garth stared at him with dead eyes. "Go into the airlock and suit up." He pushed Max and Sarah inside and blocked the doorway with his bulk.

Scarlett stood inside, tears streaming silently down her face. "What did you do, Max?"

"It's what I didn't have a chance to do," he said grimly and held his hand out for the feeding suit. Looks like I'll get to sleep with Mom and Dad after all.

She hesitantly gave it to him. "Did you hide that toughsuit in here for your sister?"

Max nodded and began to disrobe. Shaking with sobs, Sarah hugged him.

"Get changed," Garth said. "Don't make me come in there and do it for you."

Sarah stripped to her underclothes and slid on the suit. Max did the same. The excited anticipation had turned into bitter disappointment. There would be no worthy sacrifice today, no change in the order. Instead, the last of the Plancks would be sent outside to die.

Max had no idea what to expect, but he knew one thing for certain—instead of dying next to his parents, he'd go even further, never once looking back. It was nothing but a pathetic last gasp, but now it was all he had left.

Scarlett banged her fists on Max's chest. "Why'd you have to go get yourself killed? Why'd you have to be so stupid?"

"Stop it, Deputy!" Max grabbed her wrists. "Don't you dare give a damn about me now, Scarlett." His voice, rough with emotion, ground like broken gears in his throat. "I stopped caring about myself a long time ago."

Tears streaked down Scarlett's pink cheeks. "I reckon you turned out to have a decent spark in you after all, Max Planck." She pulled her wrists free and was suddenly all business again. "Now, let me make sure your suits are on nice and tight."

Max nodded and let his arms hang by his sides. Scarlett did her duty quickly and efficiently. As she handed Max his mask, she slipped something small, hard, and cold into the elastic around the neck. He looked at her with confusion.

"Maybe they won't miss one little part of that suit," she whispered. "Maybe you'll have a little extra time before you die." Scarlett stood on her tiptoes and kissed Max on the cheek. "Goodbye, Max. Sweet dreams." She turned to Sarah and squeezed her hand. "Good bye, Sarah. You don't deserve this." Her gaze turned back to Max, and despite her kind words earlier, anger burned inside her jade eyes. "Remember Nathan Harris, Max. Remember my brother."

Max rocked back on his heels as another ghost flashed before his eyes. "Brother?"

Scarlett ignored him and walked outside.

"They ready?" Garth asked.

Scarlett nodded. "They're ready to feed." She looked back at Max and blinked away tears.

Max knew her tears had never been for him, but for a brother he'd never known she had, a young man who'd fed the daughter under Max's watch.

Outside, Alderman had already launched into details about the execution and tore Max away from his grim thoughts about Scarlett. He heard the words assassination and high treason mentioned. It occurred to him that finishing off the Planck family had been part of the plan all along. Once Sarah committed her crime, they probably decided it was best to be done with Max as well. They likely knew her death would make him a man with nothing to lose, and nothing was more dangerous to them than that.

Garth stepped inside and removed the silencer from Sarah's throat. "This thing's worth more than the both of you," he said, then turned and left them.

Max wanted to say something nasty, but knew nothing he said would make a difference. Instead, he hugged and kissed Sarah on the cheeks.

"I love you, Max," she said, tears flowing.

"Love you too, sis."

She gripped his hand. "I hate that you're here, but a part of me is glad I'll have you with me at the end."

"I know the reason you're here is because you did what you felt was right by Mom and Dad." Max hugged her. "It's an honor to die by your side."

Just as Governor Alderman segued into his standard speech about duty, the airlock doors clicked shut.

Quickly, before the second set of doors opened, Max reached into the suit and pulled out the small white canister—the micro-breather from the toughsuit. It was supposed to screw into the suit's helmet. The tiny handle on the side opened the valve and released breathable air. Opening it just a little might grant a few extra minutes of breath if he slipped it under a mask.

Why Scarlett had given it to him was a mystery. Had she hoped to prolong his death, make him suffer even longer? He couldn't guess her reasons. Besides, none of it mattered anymore.

He held it out in the palm of his gloved hand. "Take it, Sarah."

She closed his fingers on it. "You take it, Max. Carry me as far as you can. Let those bastards sweat."

He had so many questions to ask her, but he heard the thrum as the second airlock door began to open. Soon, electricity would prod them forward into the outer chamber. "Why did you want that toughsuit?"

"I just wanted to make it over the dunes," she said. "Something's not right about this place, Max. They've fed us lies. I just know there's more out there. Human bodies waste away in low gravity conditions and Mars has only a third of the gravity of Earth according to the real gravity charts I saw."

Max trusted her opinion, but how was he supposed to know if gravity was too heavy or not? It was what it was.

The second door opened and they stepped through it before electricity prodded them through. As the airlock closed behind them, Max's chest tightened. It felt as though he couldn't get enough oxygen from the air. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his knees went weak. The outside is through that door! They were about to die! In five minutes, he would be dead. Every shred of bravery fled him.

"Max, calm down. You're going to hyperventilate!" Sarah put her cool hands to the sides of his face. "I'm with you, Max. I'm here."

He looked into the eyes of his sister and saw the gaze of his mother all those years ago. This place, this dome wasn't where he belonged. On the red Martian plain where his parents rested, that was where he belonged all along.

The second airlock door clicked shut with an echo of finality.

"Deep breaths, Max. Stretch your lungs." Sarah took a long breath and held, released it. "Mars has almost no atmosphere, practically a vacuum, so expect it to be extremely cold. Even when you run out of oxygen, do not remove your mask. If you do, you'll die in agony as all the moisture evaporates from your exposed flesh."

Max's fear turned to horror. "How long will these suits protect us?"

"Long enough for us to pass out and asphyxiate." She rubbed his arm. "When the outer door opens, be prepared for the difference in pressure to push us out, okay?"

Max sucked in air and let his body savor the last big lungful of oxygen they would know. He imagined someone shoving him hard from behind and assumed that's what it would be like when the pressure pushed them out. The outer door creaked. The seals parted and air rushed past them. Max gently twisted the valve on the micro-breather and put it under his facemask. He adjusted the seal to be sure it fit snug against the suit's hood, then checked Sarah's.

She smiled and nodded.

It's okay to die. Even Alderman would die someday, hopefully before he took the rest of humanity with him. If he followed Sarah's advice, it would be just like going to sleep.

The outer doors shuddered and slid open. The abrupt change in air pressure caught Max hard all along his back. He stumbled forward, flailing his arms and managed to remain standing. Sarah rose from her knees and gripped his hand.

Something was different out here, he realized immediately, but he didn't know what it was. There was nothing more to do but move forward toward the dunes. From out here, they seemed closer than on the monitors, but it was still a long hike on limited oxygen. In the dust, halfway there, he saw a single lump that could only be Mom and Dad's final resting place.

Sarah began to tremble a few feet from them, and Max quickly realized it wasn't because of sorrow. She'd run out of oxygen or was close to it. Max felt the slow cold hiss of air from the micro-breather on his cheek. He wished he could simply transfer it to Sarah, but lifting his mask or hers would expose them to the cold vacuum.

Max scooped her into his arms, cradling her like an infant. She looked up at him, face screwed up in pain. She didn't have much longer. He looked down at Mom and Dad, bodies hidden by the chalky dust, then faced the dunes. With his new burden, they seemed impossibly far away. He imagined all eyes in the dome boring into his back. Imagined Alderman watching and waiting for Max to go down.

I won't give him the pleasure.

One foot in front of the other, Max bulled forward. His arms ached and burned, but he refused to release Sarah. Before long, his muscles felt like lead, and his legs buckled. The dunes were right in front of him. The closest one looked maybe ten feet tall. He stepped into it and his foot slid backward. He stumbled forward, up the incline, dust billowing around him. As he looked up at the crest, he realized what was wrong with this place.

It was dark overhead, but it had been daylight in the dome. Light shone from somewhere behind him. As far as he knew, the dome allowed natural sunlight through. If that was the case, why couldn't he see the sun or stars? Max's vision wavered and his head began to ache. He still felt the whisper of oxygen against his face, but something was wrong.

He didn't know enough about breathing apparatus to make an educated guess, but he assumed it had something to do with carbon dioxide. His mask had no release valve, which meant he was going to asphyxiate on his own exhaled gases. He stumbled, dropping Sarah's limp figure. His vision flickered and the headache worsened.

The top was so close. All he needed was a few more steps. Max hefted Sarah for one final try. One step. Two steps. The headache tightened like a vice around his skull.

Max saw the faces, the ghosts of the innocents he'd let die—Brad Cooper, Nathan Harris, Edwin Mill, and too many more until they all ran together. Saw his mother's face as she told him that final farewell. Felt the clap of his father's hand on his shoulder before they took their last steps outside.

Mom, Dad, Sarah, I love you!

With a grunt of effort, he took the final step to the top.

What he saw over the dunes was not the endless rolling wasteland of Mars, no mountains, or pockmarked craters. Instead, he saw a silver door nestled against a dark backdrop. He stood there for a shocked instant just before his vision crumbled. Gasping for breath, head ready to implode, Max took one more step forward. His knees folded.

Max Planck tumbled down the dune and into the eternal dark.

Chapter 9

Two figures struggled across a red wasteland, their story unfolding in dramatic fashion on the large monitors near the airlock leading from City 7 to the harsh Martian surface.

Scarlett Flynn held her breath as she watched Max Planck's broad-shouldered figure aid his slim sister toward the tall, red Martian dunes in the distance. Governor Alderman gazed upon the proceedings with all the confidence of a dictator who'd just put his last political enemies in front of a firing squad.

It took Scarlett a great deal of control not to smile. Max and Sarah might be good as dead, but she had a feeling they'd make it a lot further than anyone else.

The pair paused at a small mound about halfway to the dunes. At first, Scarlett thought they were paying their respects to Rick and Claire Planck, their executed parents. Gasps rose from the civvie side of the crowd when Sarah stumbled and fell to her knees. Max leaned down and picked up his fallen sister, cradling her like a baby. Clapping rang out, quickly silenced as whoever it was realized they might end up feeding the father if Alderman or his cronies found out who it was.

"He's still going," a civvie behind Scarlett whispered excitedly. "How do you reckon he's doing it?"

"I can't believe the Constable was planning to shoot the governor," someone else hissed.

Scarlett glanced over at the crowd of lab coats in the other section of stands. They seemed puzzled, no doubt in a more scientific way than the plainspoken civvies behind her. She imagined them jotting down equations based on human lung capacity and the odds of surviving a cold airless void. One of them scratched his head and looked at a comrade, face screwed up with confusion.

They didn't have all the variables. After all, the odds were a lot better when you had an air canister like the one Scarlett had given Max. It wouldn't save the man's life, but it'd prolong it enough to make a fool of the governor and his men.

You might've been an uncaring ass most your life, Max Planck, but today you get to shine. The former constable hadn't done a damned thing right by any of the people he was sworn to protect or the law he was supposed to uphold until the day Administrator Barnes brought in Max's sister to feed the father. How many times had Scarlett fantasized about booting Max out of the airlock? How many times had she wished he'd get his just desserts for letting innocents die?

Max carried his sister to the base of the dunes, neck craning up at the tall, red mound. He took a step forward and staggered. It seemed even the air canister might not be enough to help him to the top of that last symbolic obstacle.

You made it far enough, Max Planck. Now you can die.

Alderman whispered something to Barnes and the pair turned to Gavin Kearns. Investigator Simmons stepped in between and pointed toward the monitors. Their conspiring seemed to go unnoticed by the entranced audience. No one had ever survived long enough to reach the dunes, but Max Planck was nearly halfway up one.

"Go, Constable, go," someone behind Scarlett murmured.

Scarlett felt her cheeks go hot. Was someone really pulling for Max just because he'd taken a few steps more than anyone else outside? He was the puppet constable who'd rubberstamped every execution over the past five or six years! People forgot too quickly. Anyway, it looked like Alderman and his pack of dirty rats were sweating just as she'd hoped.

There was a new constable in town, and Scarlett Flynn wasn't going to just lie down like Max Planck. She planned to fight for the lives of the people under her watch. She'd earn their respect and make sure the establishment didn't run over their rights.

A collective outcry from the crowd jerked Scarlett from her reverie. She glanced up at the monitors just as Max toppled over the crest of the dune and vanished from sight.

Alderman came back to the microphone, smiling as if everything had gone as planned. "The father is fed that we all may live."

"Father sustain us," the people replied out of reflex.

"As you may have realized, we outfitted the traitors with improved suits to test environmental variables," Alderman said. "I just received word from the labs that we were able to collect extensive data."

"Bullshit," someone whispered.

A man growled. "Lab coats." He spat the words like a curse. "We're just their rats."

"Now that this onerous duty is done, everyone may return to their daily schedules," Alderman said. The monitors flickered off and the crowd began to disperse.

Scarlett mingled with the crowd but remained to watch the city leaders for a moment. Governor Alderman scowled. Administrator Barnes seemed confused. Investigator Simmons looked as unconcerned as always, while Kearns seemed to be thinking about something else entirely. The fifth spoke of the inner circle, Lyle Babbage, was absent as usual.

If only she could hear even a moment of that conversation. Scarlett turned and followed the crowd back into town. Despite the twin executions, many civvies had a bounce to their step, a certain defiance in their eyes. Max's long walk had left a positive impression on these people. What she didn't understand was why. The former constable had done nothing to earn their respect except survive longer than anyone else outside. If they knew the truth, they wouldn't be nearly as impressed.

"Well, if it isn't the new constable," Barlow McGee said.

"Good luck filling those shoes," grumbled Patrick Miller.

Scarlett set her arms akimbo. "Just what do you mean by that?"

Patrick shook his head slowly but said nothing.

Olga Birch slowed down and let Scarlett catch up to her. "Poor Max. He was such a good soul. I hope you have an easier time of it, Scarlett."

"A good soul? Do you know how many feedings Constable Planck allowed on his watch?" Scarlett blew out a frustrated breath. "The man's gone and died, and everyone has amnesia about his record."

"Oh, I thought you knew," Olga said. Her eyes flashed as if she'd said too much, and she drifted away.

"Knew what?" Scarlett looked around, but the other woman had already melted back into the throng.

"You ain't no Planck," growled Dusty Evans.

"Better believe it," Scarlett shot back. "What did Max Planck ever do for any of you people except let the governor execute you?"

The crowd drifted apart, leaving Scarlett in a pocket of emptiness that lasted the entire walk back to Central. She looked behind her and saw only suspicious eyes and hard faces. People should've been celebrating the death of the worthless constable. Instead, they seemed to be in mourning.

A large group of civvies went east on Main Street toward the mechworks even though plenty of them wore the colors of the southern farms, and Scarlett quickly realized they were headed for the saloon. She figured it might not be a bad idea to grab a swill for herself, if only to listen to the workers after a few drinks had loosened their tongues.

The building was full to overflowing when she walked in. A few curious looks came her way, but Scarlett visited the saloon enough to look like a regular. She didn't much care for swill, but found it useful to mingle with the civvies so they looked at her like she was one of them. Something seemed to have changed the minute Max stepped out of the airlock and made her constable.

Conversations grew quieter around the bar as she walked up to it and ordered a Hatfield.

The barkeep, Gerald Kline, seemed to be the only one with a friendly word for her. "How ya settling in, Constable Flynn?"

It felt mighty strange to be called the constable all of a sudden. "I haven't figured that out yet," Scarlett replied with a smile. "Looks like everyone decided to spend their rations on swill today."

He shrugged and wiped a glass with a cloth. "Same thing happened when Rick and Claire Planck went out the airlock. Double feedings get people to talking." Gerald set a glass filled with clear Hatfield swill in front of Scarlett.

"Yeah, but Constable Planck fed a lot of these people's loved ones to the father and daughter." She took a sip and winced at the sharp bite. "I thought they'd be happy he's dead."

"Everyone knows you gave Constable Planck a hard time." Gerald grinned at the look Scarlett gave him. He filled another glass and slid it to another patron.

"I didn't think he was doing his job," she shot back.

"He did his best under the circumstances." The barkeep quickly filled three more glasses and slid them to a group of thirsty-looking men. "I reckon you'll get a better idea now that you're in his shoes."

"I'm wearing my own shoes, thank you very much." Scarlett took another sip and nodded toward Sally Cooper and her mate Paul. "Max saw their boy, Brad, to the grinder. Fed him to the daughter. I'll bet they wouldn't agree with your reasoning."

"Maybe you ought to go ask them yourself." Gerald lined up a few more glasses. "Let me know if you need anything else, Constable Scarlett." He winked and turned back to his duties.

Scarlett picked up her glass and pursed her lips. Maybe I will go ask them. She sauntered over toward the couple, trying to act as if she was simply passing by them to another table. "Oh, hello, Sally. Good day, Paul."

Paul's wrinkled face pinched. "Oh, Deputy Flynn. I didn't see you."

"It's Constable Flynn now," Sally said, her voice not quite pleased. "Paul doesn't see as well as he used to. Brassworks is taking a toll."

"Doesn't much matter," Paul said with a quick grin. "Sometimes I reckon the grinder is a mercy after a few years of working below."

"Well, at least you can breathe easier now," Scarlett said. "The man who fed your boy to the daughter got served his own justice today."

Sally's jaw went tight. "I don't believe I heard you right, Constable Flynn. You saying we should be thankful Max is dead?"

Paul's grin vanished in an instant. "Our boy, Brad, ran away. Said he knew the lab coats were hiding something from us and planned to climb Overlook to prove it. Constable Planck tracked him down and brought him home before he did harm to himself."

Scarlett shook her head. "But—"

"Max even got his sister, Sarah involved," Sally said. "She told him there wasn't anything up there, that she'd been and looked."

Paul wiped at his eyes. "Fool boy didn't believe them, but he sure convinced us he had. Two days later, he got caught trying to sneak into Overlook. Constable Planck was real torn up about it, but once you break the rules, there's no salvation from the administrators."

"Constable Planck tried to prevent it." Sally sniffed. "We don't blame him for what happened next."

Scarlett was at a loss for words. Maybe Max had a talk with Brad, but that didn't change the end result. If he'd fought for the boy's life, maybe he could have saved it. She decided these people were simply being irrational, and that was just fine by her. Once she showed everyone how to stand up to the powers that be, they'd learn to respect her.

She gulped down the rest of the swill, wincing at the burn as it worked its way down her throat. "Well, I'm glad you're at peace about it." She nodded at the Coopers. "Good day."

"Yep," Sally said and turned back to her mate.

Scarlett decided it was time to leave and headed for the door. The moment she stepped outside, she could have sworn the volume of conversation went up a few notches. Scattered groups of civvies talked in the street. Alderman and his lot didn't allow for large assemblies except for executions. Judging from the looks on some of the faces, there was a lot of anger out there.

As the new constable, she should probably break up the groups and tell them to go back to their jobs or homes. But that wasn't the way she planned to run this town. To hell with the governor and his people—she was going to set things right. The dome above began to darken into twilight and Scarlett's stomach rumbled right on cue. It was nearly supper time. She left the crowds behind and headed toward the communes. On the way there, she passed the apartment assigned to the constable and realized that soon she'd be moving from her tiny studio into something larger.

She reached in her pocket and felt the star-shaped badge she'd liberated from Max before his execution. With him gone, this place was pretty much hers now. Scarlett took out the badge and rotated it in her fingers. If that was the case, why hadn't she put on the badge yet? What made her linger outside in the street instead of walking into the home of her dead mentor?

"I'm being silly," Scarlett told herself. She marched up to the door and pressed the badge into the token slot. The latch clicked and the presswood door popped open. She pinned the badge to her uniform and stepped over the threshold. The inside of the apartment was at least double the size of hers, maybe more. It had a separate den, kitchen, and bedroom, whereas hers was all one tiny room.

Aside from a few cooking utensils, there was almost no sign anyone else had ever lived here. A cabinet in the bathroom held a few bottles of pills and male grooming instruments. The only personalized item in the place was a family picture. Scarlett recognized Rick, Claire, and the younger versions of Max and Sarah. They looked like a happy family.

"Least you got to enjoy your childhood," Scarlett murmured to the ghosts in the frame. She'd been a freezer baby herself, assigned to Martin and Ellen Flynn in mechworks. Martin died when she was five and Ellen was reassigned to another mate, Scott Flannery. He died when a spool of recycled copper crushed him.

Ellen did a good job caring for Scarlett when she was little, but it was clear that her mother looked at it like an assignment. Not that Scarlett could blame the woman. The lab coats assigned babies and mates based on science, not love. The minute you dared love anything in this little world, it was guaranteed to die or vanish. Max Planck and his family were ample proof of that.

She tossed the picture, frame and all, in the recycle bin. Everything else in this place could still serve a purpose and, since Max had no living relatives, there was no sense in keeping a memento. Scarlett finished surveying the rest of the apartment and decided she'd move her things in tomorrow. It wasn't like she'd accumulated much over the years anyway.

On the way out, she stopped and looked at the picture frame and wondered if she should keep it. Even if she couldn't make use of a frame, perhaps someone else might like it. Then again, it was something she could decide tomorrow.

Scarlett stepped outside the apartment and turned up the road toward her place when she saw a man riding a bladewheel up the street. Science Division marshals and some of the lab coats had access to bladewheels, but the constable was the only civvie allowed one. The rider was short and thin with a belly shaped like a dome—easy to identify even from this distance.

Dominic looked a great deal like his biological father, Administrator Barnes, and had inherited very few traits of his lovely mother, Alyssa. Which was unfortunate for Dominic. The scientists rarely wasted good breeding stock, but if one of the government leaders wanted something, they got it.

At the last minute, Dominic veered the bladewheel toward the curb and tried to hop it. The wheel didn't clear the obstacle, sending the rider stumbling onto the concrete while the unicycle crashed onto the street.

"What in the world are you doing?" Scarlett lifted the bladewheel and looked at the scars on the carbon fiber casing. She checked the wheel, but it looked undamaged. She jumped up and got in the young man's face. "Who gave you the authority to ride this?"

Dominic dusted himself off and looked at a small scrape as if Scarlett wasn't even there. Satisfied he wasn't injured, he turned on her. "Better watch how you talk to your boss, Deputy Flynn."

Chapter 10

Scarlett sputtered with shock. "Deputy? I'm the constable now."

He snorted. "What, you think the position is inherited or something? The governor assigned me as the new constable."

This was outrageous! "Have you even tested for law enforcement? I'll bet you don't know the first thing about it."

Dominic shrugged and looked at her chest. "You're wearing my badge."

Scarlett backed away. "This is a mistake. Just because your father—"

"My father could fire you if he wanted." He grabbed the star and jerked it off her uniform.

Fire flashed through Scarlett's face. Her knee caught Dominic in the gut. Before the yelp of surprise was out of his mouth, Scarlett threw a leg behind his, and shoved his chest hard. He slammed onto the sidewalk with an explosive breath. She took the star from his limp fingers. "Don't you dare take something from me without asking politely. You understand, boy?"

Wind rattled from his throat as he tried to draw a breath.

"I'll wait until you ask me nicely, Dominic."

It took him a moment to recover. When he did, the first thing out of his mouth wasn't an apology or a request. "I'll throw you out the airlock myself, bitch."

"I doubt you could lift me," she said sweetly. Scarlett stood and dropped the badge on the ground. "Good evening, Constable." She got on the bladewheel and rode it for home.

Once she was out of sight, she trembled and nearly fell off the unicycle. You are an idiot, Scarlett Flynn! Dominic might be a weak little idiot like his father, but they could have someone like Marshal Garth rough her up, or even convince the governor to throw her out of the airlock. She'd just plain and simple lost her patience with the man.

Back inside her tiny apartment, Scarlett cut up some potatoes and boiled them in the same water she'd used for the past three days, and cooked ground chicken parts. Expecting the door to burst in any minute with a vengeful Dominic and henchmen on the other side, she quickly ate her meal, determined to take a beating on a full stomach.

Thankfully, he never showed up.

Scarlett unfolded her bed from the wall and lay down, wishing she had a book to read. Unfortunately, she'd already gone through all the available fiction works twice, and civvies weren't allowed to read textbooks outside their aptitude. That restriction had rarely stopped her from borrowing books from others, but right now she didn't even have those to read.

She turned on her side and stared at the gray wall. Max's sad blue eyes stared into her memory. Upon arriving at the airlock, he'd been absolutely shocked to find Scarlett standing there with two feeding suits. "Now it's your turn, you bastard," she'd wanted to say, but held her tongue for Sarah's sake. Scarlett wondered how Max would have felt if he knew she was the one who showed the duffel bag with the toughsuit to Simmons.

Toughsuit or not, Sarah wouldn't have lasted more than a couple hours on the surface outside, and turning in Max rid the city of one more evil bastard. Now that she'd gotten rid of one bad constable, another had sprung up in his place. It was highly unlikely she'd have the opportunity to push Dominic out of the airlock, so Scarlett would just have to do her best as a deputy—again.

She closed her eyes and saw a dead man looking back at her, tears in his eyes. Scarlett tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, but Max waited patiently until she was nearly asleep before reappearing, sometimes carrying Sarah. Scarlett pressed her temples. "Get out of my head, Max!"

He refused and kept walking across the red sands away from Scarlett, Sarah cradled in his arms. At one point, Max stopped and turned around. A gaping skull stared out from the feeding suit.

Scarlett jerked awake with a scream. The padding on her bed was soaked with sweat, and hair clung to her face. She got up and paced the cold floor, desperately thinking about unimportant things until Max's ghost left her alone. Despite the sweat, she shivered and wrapped herself in a towel.

When at last she lay back down, Max looked back at her.

Scarlett opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. "Reckon I'm stuck with you, Max Planck." She sighed and wondered how long it took ghosts to fade.

Olga Birch waited in front of the station when Scarlett wheeled in the next morning.

"Morning, Constable," the marshal said. "Got a minute?"

"I'm not the constable." Scarlett unlocked the station door and took the bladewheel inside.

"But I thought—"

"Dominic Barnes is the new constable." Scarlett plugged the unicycle into the charger. "Perhaps you'd like to wait on him."

Olga grimaced. "Goodness, no." Her shoulders sagged and she turned to leave.

"Hang on." Scarlett stepped in front of the woman. "What did you want?"

The marshal stepped back inside. "Well, when I talked to Max yesterday"—her eyes teared up and she took a deep breath—"I told him about some strange deaths in the brassworks."

"Deaths?" Scarlett thought back to the last investigation. "You mean the one three months ago?"

Olga shook her head. "Max said the same thing, but two more people died down there since then."

"Two people?" Scarlett leaned against Max's old desk. "Why didn't we hear about it?"

"Investigator Simmons said the deaths were obvious accidents that didn't need investigating."

Scarlett held onto the first remark about Simmons that crawled into her head. "I know you're not here about those two deaths, so why don't you tell me what's really happened?"

Olga smiled. "Max sure was right about you."

"What do you mean?"

"He said you're sharp as a whip." The other woman seemed to relax a little. "Someone else died in the brassworks, but this time they weren't in a toughsuit."

"Who in their right mind would go down below without protection?" Scarlett tapped her fingernails on the desk. "Sounds like suicide to me."

"Well, maybe that's something you can determine." Olga motioned toward the door. "As the security marshal of mechworks, I'm formally requesting an investigation."

Scarlett pushed off the desk and squared her shoulders. "I suppose since the constable isn't in yet, I'll go take a look." She bent down and spun the combination to the lock under Max's old desk and removed a forensics kit.

"What's going on in here?" Dominic tried to fill the doorway by widening his stance.

Scarlett thought he might have a better chance if he turned sideways. "Just in time, Constable. I'm going to investigate a death."

He bared his teeth at her. "You don't do anything without my permission."

"Olga, the mechworks marshal, formally requested the investigation." Scarlett shoved the kit toward him. "That means you have to do it."

"Ain't doing shit." Dominic shoved the kit back at her. "And neither are you. I'm placing you under arrest for assault."

Olga's eyebrows climbed high. "I don't think handing you the forensic kit is assault, Constable."

"You mean, little old me roughed you up, Constable?" Scarlett batted her eyelashes. "I'll bet that'll make for interesting stories around town."

His face paled. "You threatening me?"

"With what?" She held up a hand. "I don't see how these dainty hands could've roughed up a man unless—" Scarlett let Dominic's tiny brain finish that thought.

The new constable scowled. "Keep your mouth shut and go investigate."

"Won't breathe a word, Constable." Scarlett tucked the kit under her arm and walked outside with Olga. They headed east on Main Street toward mechworks.

The mechworks marshal gave her a sideways look. "What was that about?"

"Just a little disagreement yesterday." Scarlett rubbed clammy palms against her pants. "It wasn't anything really." Dominic was a fool, but even he knew rumors of Scarlett putting him on the ground would emasculate him quick as a sharp knife. "Tell me more about the body."

Olga seemed content to let the Dominic matter lie. "It's in the top level of the brassworks—the steamworks."

"Identification?"

She grimaced. "I was hoping you could do that." Olga motioned toward the mechworks compound ahead. "We'll need to go by supply and get some toughsuits."

The mention of the protective gear brought Max's face back into focus. Scarlett bit her lip so hard she flinched.

"You okay, Deputy?"

Scarlett pressed her tongue to the inside of her lip. "Yep."

"I can't stop thinking about Max," Olga said. "I miss him already."

Scarlett stopped. "I keep hearing about how he was so great, Marshal, but all the evidence I saw points to the contrary." She shifted the kit under her other arm. "Mind explaining why you're gonna miss the man who rubberstamped anything the governor and his men tossed his way?"

Olga looked at her warily. "I figured you knew already. Max said it was hard keeping anything secret from the perceptive Scarlett Flynn."

Scarlett didn't feel particularly perceptive at all when it came to Max. Then again, she'd hated the man even before coming on as deputy, her mind full of notions about changing things for the better. Unfortunately, the deputy didn't have the authority to make the kind of changes she'd envisioned.

"I reckon he kept a few secrets from me, Olga."

The other woman pursed her lips. "I guess so."

"Well, are you gonna tell me?"

"I hope I can trust you, Deputy Flynn." Olga frowned. "If Max didn't tell you—"

"Max didn't tell me because he knew I despised him."

Olga shook her head slowly. "Your poor opinion was certainly misplaced. Max Planck may have been forced to feed the daughter and father with the lives of civvies, but he always did it with a heavy heart."

"So you believe," Scarlett replied in a cool tone. "Who are you to know the heart of another?"

"I could ask you the same, Scarlett." Olga cleared her throat. "What you don't know is that Max saved at least ten other civvies from the grinder during his tenure."

Scarlett couldn't believe her ears. "How in the world did he manage that?"

"By not writing up reports about treasonous activity. By sitting down and talking with people who were on the verge of stepping into Investigator Simmons's line of sight."

Scarlett regarded her doubtfully. "Treasonous how?"

"Stealing food, questioning the rules, the usual trite actions that will get you killed."

"Stealing food is a crime," Scarlett said.

"But does it merit execution?"

"No, of course not." Scarlett resumed walking toward mechworks. "Maybe Max had a few productive talks with people, but that doesn't mean he was a good man. I'm pretty sure he stopped caring a long time ago."

"He definitely seemed like a lost soul at times," Olga said in a quiet voice. "I think he never lost sight of what was right, but in his own mind, he reckoned he had." She sighed. "Besides, stopping the governor and his men is about like trying to catch a blaster bolt with your teeth."

"I don't agree," Scarlett said. "You saw how I handled Dominic."

"Dominic isn't Alderman or Simmons."

"He's just like them."

Olga stared at Scarlett with confusion. "Maybe Max wasn't right about you."

They entered the supply section of the mechworks, saving Olga from a scathing retort. The marshal went to the window and rang a bell. An old man with a twitchy right eye appeared and slid it open.

"Howdy, Olga. I got them toughsuits ready for you."

"Thanks, Twig." Olga smiled wide. "We'll probably need extra micro-breathers too."

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Got you two each. Can't let our pretty marshal run out of oxygen, can I?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes at the exchange. Olga had too long a nose and too big a mouth to look pretty. Then again, Twig was an old man, probably desperate for any sort of female attention.

As if he heard her thoughts, Twig nodded her way. "How you doing, Deputy Flynn?"

"Mighty fine, Twig. You got the stolen toughsuit back in place?"

He nodded. "That fool Cooper boy left one of the back gates unlocked. That's probably how the constable got in." Twig shook his head sadly. "If Max had asked me, I probably would've given it to him. I'll bet he stole it because he didn't want me getting in trouble."

"Why in the dome would you give him a toughsuit?" Scarlett said.

Twig scratched the back of his hand absent-mindedly. "His sister, Sarah, got my little Jenny some meds from Science Division because they didn't have them available at the med station in Central. I reckon they saved her life."

"Sarah did, not Max."

"He got her involved without me even asking him," Twig said. "I don't know how he found out Jenny was sick. I guess he overheard it from someone."

Olga turned to Scarlett and raised an eyebrow. "We'll get those suits now, Twig."

"You got it." He pushed the bulky outfits and helmets through the window. "Just need your fingerprints right here." He slid over an epad.

Scarlett and Olga pressed their index fingers to it.

Olga patted the old man's hand. "Thanks, Twig."

He blushed. "Anytime, Marshal. Anytime."

"Better watch out, Marshal," Scarlett said when they were out of earshot. "I think old Twig's about ready to file a breeding petition for you."

Olga giggled. "I don't doubt it. Unfortunately, I just got my breeding orders reassigned from Howard Jenkins to Paul Anderson."

Scarlett's lips peeled back with disgust. "Reassigned?"

"Howard was shooting blanks." The marshal sighed. "Just when I was getting used to the man."

"Maybe you have to breed with him, but nobody's forcing you to live together."

Olga snorted. "Maybe not outright, but it sure feels that way sometimes."

They walked past rows of forging stations where men and women worked recycled metals into pipes with the use of molds. Hammers clanged and machinery whined. Huge tanks in the back of the room sent the molten metals flowing wherever it was requested. The entire room reeked of sulfur and superheated metals. Scarlett felt beads of sweat gathering on her forehead as they passed through. The people in here looked skinny and underfed, probably because they sweated most of their calories out for hours a day.

Scarlett and Olga emerged from the metalworks and came upon a large red sign.

Danger: No Entrance Without Proper Protection

Olga took off her boots and tied her hair up in a bun. Scarlett followed her example. A nearby bench provided a convenient spot to sit down while they slid the suits on. Scarlett pressed her feet into the boots attached to the bottom of the suit, then stood and zipped it up the front until the high collar pressed firmly against her throat.

"I don't think these things would actually work outside," Olga said, almost as a side though. "You'd need some sealer for the zipper."

"It's got a rubber gasket inside," Scarlett said.

"Yeah, but these suits aren't made for an airless vacuum."

"Sound like you've put some thought into this," Scarlett said.

Olga shrugged. "Max's execution just got me to wondering if whatever he had planned might actually work."

"Even if you made this suit airtight, what would you do? Trot around on the surface until you ran out of oxygen and died?"

The marshal nodded. "That's exactly what I'd do. It sure would be nice to see what in the dome we've been dying and feeding all these years." She picked up the helmet and screwed in a micro-breather to the lower valve. "It sure doesn't seem the scientists have changed much at all out there. Makes me think maybe this whole thing is—" She shivered and stopped talking. "Apologies, Deputy, I shouldn't say such things."

"Maybe, but I sure won't arrest you for it." Scarlett smiled before sliding the bubble helmet over her head. She found the neck latch with her gloved hands and twisted it tight. Maybe this thing would last outside. For now, she hoped it survived what came next.

"Ready?" Olga said.

Scarlett nodded.

"Let's go." Marshal Birch led Scarlett down the long, winding metal staircase into hell.

Chapter 11

They went about a hundred steps down to the first sublevel of the brassworks—steamworks, where solar power converted into energy. Scarlett couldn't help but glance down over the stair railing and wonder just how far down it continued. Another level down was the shitworks where water was reclaimed from raw sewage and solids turned into fertilizer. The gasses were used for more energy in something called a catalyzing fuel cell—at least that was what a worker once told her it was.

The first level of underground stretched nearly as far and wide as all of Central with long tunnels reaching out to the farms and ranches for cabling and plumbing. The heart of the beast lay just west of here.

Olga pointed ahead and walked across the grated catwalk to the concrete floor. Even with the suit on, heat seeped in from all sides, increasing the temperature inside the suit until it was uncomfortably warm.

Pipes ran all along the ceiling, many converging on large green cylinders where they attached to the front. The rumble of machinery vibrated deep in Scarlett's stomach, making her feel a bit queasy. A blast of steam erupted from an overflow valve inches from Scarlett's helmet. She shrieked and stumbled backwards.

Olga stopped and turned, a smile on her face. She said something, but the words were lost in the muffled roar.

Thankful the helmet protected her from the full fury of the heat and noise, Scarlett took a deep breath of the cool air flowing from the micro-breather and followed Olga between the huge generators lining the floor.

Thick cables with bright red insulation ran from the back of the generators and into wide cable trays affixed onto the ceiling. Scarlett wondered how the insulation didn't melt from all the steam.

Olga continued forward, sometimes vanishing into a billow of steam, or walking up a short set of stairs to cross a particularly large steam pipe. Scarlett spotted a few workers here and there, all dressed in toughsuits and wielding huge wrenches as they wrestled with the miles of stainless pipe feeding the generators.

One of the men glanced up from his work, his face gaunt and blistered. Scarlett might have gasped at the sight if she hadn't seen it before. Brassworks workers often had scars on their faces from day after day of heat and intense sweating. Their water rations obviously weren't enough to overcome the dehydration—ironic since they worked around water all the time.

They passed from the power generation plant and into a quieter area where the pipes ran in from the tunnels leading out to the wall and up to the dome. The last time she'd come down here with Max, he'd asked a worker how the steam stayed so hot coming all the way in from the dome, down the walls, and then miles underground.

Scarlett had never given it much thought, but considering how far the tunnels ran to reach the wall, it seemed impossible that the heat generated from the solar panels in the dome was enough to keep the water turned to steam all the way down here.

The worker had simply shrugged and said, "Do I look like a lab coat to you?" and Max had dropped the subject.

Olga turned a corner and stopped. Scarlett saw at once they'd arrived. A figure with terrible steam burns lay next to a section of burst pipe. The steam to this section was off, presumably controlled by the large red valve at a nearby junction. Scarlett crouched uncomfortably in the bulky suit and inspected the body. The face and neck had been utterly obliterated, flesh melted down to the bone by a blast of high-pressure steam. She'd seen worse accidents before, so the sight didn't sicken her as it had during her earlier days.

Scarlett looked up at Olga and tapped the helmet. "Can I take this off for a minute?"

Olga checked a gauge worn around her neck and nodded. She undid the latch to her own helmet and pulled it off. "Air is clean, and the temperature is low with the steam turned off in this area."

Scarlett lifted the bubble off and felt hot humidity sear into her lungs. "You call this low temperature?"

Olga grinned. "Low is a relative term here."

"Obviously." Beads of sweat wasted no time forming on Scarlett's forehead and trickling into her eyes.

Olga handed her a spongy headband that helped keep the sting of salt out of her eyes. Without moving the body, Scarlett carefully examined the face and the throat. At the very edges of the burns where the flesh still remained, she found a neat slice. A matching wound showed on the opposite side as well. There was also blood hidden in the curly black hair on the back of the head from an impact and a red welt on the back of the neck, like hot metal had pressed against it.

The deceased wore a blue jumpsuit indicating mechworks. Scarlett ignored this and pulled up one of the sleeves. The individual had no tattoos, no scars. The skin looked pale and bloodless, of course, but otherwise undamaged. Scarlett unzipped the jumpsuit and looked at the soft white body underneath. It was a male with a spare dome of fat around his waist. She found two bruises on the stomach, each one roughly the shape of a fist.

By the time Scarlett worked her way down to the man's feet, she knew where he'd come from, but still no clue to his name. The logic circulating in her head made her sick with apprehension.

She looked over the burst pipe and studied the stressed metal where it had been bent first inward, then back out. The pipe itself was probably a foot in diameter. The amount of steam erupting from within must have flash-fried the man's face.

"Well?" Olga asked when Scarlett stood.

"This is bad—really bad." The deputy bit her lip and stared down at the corpse. "John Doe is in his late twenties or early thirties. My guess is he was punched twice in the stomach, then hit over the back of the head with something hard, knocking him out. They slipped him into a mechworks jumpsuit and dragged him here, set him on the ground. I think the murderer planned to burst the pipe in the victim's face to kill him, but he must have woken up."

Scarlett made a slashing motion across her throat. "The killer slit the victim's throat, then used something to puncture the steam pipe." She ran her finger along the thick broken metal. "Any idea what could rupture the pipe like this?"

Olga shrugged. "Mechworks has more tools than I can name. I'm sure it was a hammer or something like that."

"I reckon it doesn't matter what burst the pipe," Scarlett said. "What matters a whole lot is that this man isn't a civvie."

The marshal's face paled. "Oh, shit."

Scarlett nodded grimly. "Yep, it's a lab coat."

"Barnes and Simmons are going to be all over this," Olga said. "I guarantee someone's gonna feed for this even if they have to choose someone innocent."

"Not on my watch," Scarlett said.

"Technically, it's not your watch, Deputy."

Scarlett scowled. "Looks like the body is still fresh. It happened sometime last night if I had to guess."

"Probably," Olga said. "The coroner might have a better idea."

"The coroner is a lab coat," Scarlett said. She examined the welt on the back of the neck. "This is a strange burn mark."

"From the steam, maybe?"

Scarlett shook her head. "No, it's too small." She fingered a grate over a gutter, but found no blood. "I think the man bled out into this grate, but the steam washed away the blood."

"Looks likely," Olga agreed.

Turning on her heel, Scarlett looked on the ground and found a few faint scuff marks leading to the main walkway then due west—right toward the science campus. "The killer used this tunnel to get to Science Division."

"You can't just waltz down this tunnel and under the campus," Olga said. "There's a thick steel door about a mile down. If maintenance has to get in there for servicing, someone from the other side has to meet them and open the door."

"Who meets them?"

"Science marshals usually, but sometimes lab coats."

Scarlett stared down the dim corridor. "Can you take me to it?"

Olga nodded. "Better put your helmet back on. The pipes get hotter the further out you go."

After securing the helmet back over her head, Scarlett followed Olga down the long tunnel. Lights blinked on overhead, turning off a few dozen yards behind them as they walked alongside thick electrical cables on one side and shiny stainless steel steam pipes and water plumbing on the other.

"Quite the walk," Scarlett said after a while. Sweat overwhelmed the headband and trickled into her eyes. "I can't believe they don't have an electric cart to use down here."

"Maintenance has two carts," Olga said, "But they're restricted on usage."

It seemed counterproductive to ration the electricity maintenance used to keep things running, but the scientists meted and measured everything: water, power, food, and even life. Scarlett reckoned they even gauged the amount of shit and piss a person produced. Max had once quipped that the entire place was a rat maze with just one wall, and the people were part of an experiment.

Scarlett thought he was wrong about one thing. There was more than just the encircling dome wall. Their daily life was all walled up by rations, work, and rules. The walls leading to death were invisible until the moment you walked right into them.

At long last, they reached a solid gray barrier blocking everything but the pipes and cables from proceeding further. The door didn't even have a handle on this side, just an unblinking red eye in the middle. Scarlett examined the floor but found no scuffmarks from dragging a victim. She did find rubber tracks from a wheeled vehicle, presumably an electric cart, though they ran together with others from previous visitors.

"Do the lab coats have a cart they use?" Scarlett asked, her voice sounding as if it were trapped in a bottle thanks to the bubble helmet.

Olga nodded. "Of course, but it's rare they ever come down here."

Scarlett began to wonder if the dead man had driven the cart into the brassworks, or if someone had knocked him out and driven him there. It didn't seem likely the lab coats would kill one of their own, but it seemed just as unlikely a civvie would dare murder someone from Science Division.

Regardless of how it went down, one thing was for certain—Simmons would want a civvie to pay in kind.

She examined the door for signs of tampering, but saw nothing to indicate anyone tried to pry open the door with a tool. Even if they had a crowbar, it would take serious muscle to wrench the latch and break it. Scarlett ran a finger into the small space between the insulated electric cables and the door frame and felt at least several inches of steel. Unless someone used a welding torch, no one from mechworks was breaking through this door.

A dangerous plan formed in Scarlett's mind as she and Olga headed back towards the steamworks. What if the pair simply disposed of the body? Surely there were a million ways to do it underground. The hardest part would be convincing Olga and anyone else who'd seen the body to keep their mouths shut. She'd need to know everyone who'd seen the body before proceeding.

"Has anyone ever vanished down here?" Scarlett asked.

"For good?" Olga tried to tap a gloved finger on her chin, apparently forgetting about the bubble helmet. She flinched in mild surprise when she tapped the glass. "I believe there have been a couple of cases, but that was long before I was the mechworks marshal."

"Where is the raw metal upstairs melted?"

"In those tanks you saw." She narrowed her eyes. "You're thinking of destroying the body, aren't you?"

Scarlett gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Because Max wanted to do it once." Olga shook her head. "It doesn't matter if they find the body or not. Once they realize a lab coat is missing, all hell's gonna break loose."

It didn't take a genius to realize Olga was right. She might just be a security marshal, but she wasn't all brawn and no brain. Scarlett stopped. "What do you propose we do?"

"Even if we could easily destroy the body, at least four steamworks workers already know about it." She held out a hand and tabulated four fingers. "Dominic knows about it." Olga unfurled a fifth finger. "With him knowing, everyone might as well know."

"It'll take the coroner about an hour to identify the body with a DNA test," Scarlett said. "I guess the best we can hope for is that the victim isn't a relative of anyone from the administration."

"Any chance the coroner will miss the slash marks on the throat?"

Scarlett shook her head. "Not a one. Coroner Everett has all sorts of gadgets for examining a body. I don't think I could slip a hangnail past him."

Olga pressed her lips into a thin line. "Looks like we don't have much choice but to go forward and see what the governor and his boys throw our way for punishment."

Scarlett's hands curled tight. "I may not be constable, but I'll find out who did this. If anyone suffers, it'll be the guilty party."

The marshal looked at her long and hard. "I hope you're up to it, Deputy Flynn. Believe it or not, Constable Planck said the same exact thing a few times until he learned better and the system beat him down."

Scarlett's shoulder stiffened. "I don't plan on giving up like Max did."

"He didn't give up," Olga said. "Max figured out different ways of doing things. He once told me that if a bull charges you, you get out of the way. Trying to ram it with your own head is only going to get you killed."

"Oh, how wise," Scarlett scoffed. "There's only so many times you can jump out of the way before you get tired. If you pick up a shovel and hit the bull in the noggin, then it won't be so eager to charge you."

Olga snorted. "You're a stubborn one, Scarlett Flynn. I can see why Max liked you."

Scarlett's blood went ice cold at the thought. "Don't you dare say that to me." Scarlett shuddered and backed away. "You won't ever make me like the man—not a bit. Maybe he did a few sneaky things here and there, but he was a coward, a liar, and a tool."

Olga's smiled faded. "If it makes you sleep easier at night thinking of Max Planck as a villain, you go right ahead." She shoved past Scarlett. "I know you're the one who turned in that duffel bag with the toughsuit. You just better hope I don't ever tell anyone else or maybe it'll be your body they find down here."

Scarlett grabbed the other woman's arm and spun her around. "You threatening me, Marshal Birch?"

"Why would that be a threat?" Olga said. "You seem mighty proud and happy that Max's frozen corpse is lying out there on the red sands." She shoved Scarlett hard. "I'm sure you'd be just as proud for everyone to know that Deputy Flynn slayed the big bad constable." A tear mingled with the sweat on Olga's face. She reflexively wiped, but only scraped the helmet.

"After all the horrors that man allowed to happen, I don't understand a bit how his tiny little deeds on the side made up for it." Scarlett deflated, felt her shoulders slumping. "I did what I had to do, Marshal, and I'd do it all over again." She pushed the larger woman away from her. "Let's get back to the body."

Olga turned and walked without another word, and Scarlett couldn't help but wonder if she'd just made an enemy. Doubts about what she'd done slithered through her mind. She drove them away with the faces of the people Max allowed to die. There was one face in particular that stood out as he always did—Nathan Harris.

The pair had been fast friends growing up and looked so similar, people often figured they were related. Like plenty of other kids, they were freezer babies, but since neither of them had siblings, it had only made them feel more like brother and sister. On the day Nathan fed the daughter, Investigator Simmons let slip that Scarlett and Nathan looked alike for a reason.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Nathan is your biological brother." Simmons tried to look sad, but his emotions were as fake as his sense of justice.

That was the moment Scarlett decided she'd kill Max Planck.

Chapter 12

A blue-suited form and bubble helmet waited next to the body when Olga and Scarlett returned. The man didn't even have to turn around for Scarlet to recognize the back of that hated head.

Investigator Simmons looked behind him as if some reptilian instinct warned him someone approached from behind. A slick smile wormed across his face. The steam was still off so Scarlett removed her helmet, letting the distant thrum of generators back into her ears.

"I see the young deputy is already on the job," Simmons said. "What have you found?"

Scarlett didn't see any way but the truth, so she laid it out plain as she had for Olga, but with a twist. "Looks like someone from Science Division wanted to get rid of your boy, so they drove him all the way here on a cart and killed him, hoping it'd look like someone in mechworks did it."

Simmons twisted his lips into a smirk. "I believe you're reaching, Deputy. I find it far more likely someone in mechworks decided to kill a scientist."

"Now, why would anyone in mechworks want to do that?" She jabbed a finger down the corridor. "A better question is how anyone from mechworks could manage to get through that thick door, into the science campus, knock out one of your people, and drag him all the back here without anyone detecting him."

"That will be for you to find out," Simmons said.

"I don't think that's what I'll find," she replied. "More likely, it'll be what I said."

Simmons's smirk broadened. "Let me be clear, Deputy. I tell you what the results are, and you find the facts to support them."

Scarlett's face burned hotter than the steam pipes. "Don't expect me to roll over like Constable Planck, Investigator. I'll find the real facts and report them straight to the governor if I have to."

"Hmm, we'll see about that, won't we?" Simmons waved someone over. Two men in blue toughsuits like the investigator's walked over with a black body bag. "Take this corpse to Kyle Everett."

Scarlett recognized Marshal Garth as one of the men, but not his equally bulky friend. With quiet efficiency, Garth and his companion packaged the corpse and headed back toward the stairwell.

"I'd like to see the autopsy results," Scarlett said. "Matter of fact, I'd like to watch Coroner Everett perform the procedure."

"Denied," Simmons said. He lifted his helmet to put it back on. "Constable Barnes will, of course, receive the results. Perhaps you should ask him."

Scarlett ground her teeth at the thought. "I certainly will."

Olga gave Scarlett a knowing look after Simmons left.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at the other woman. "Don't you dare."

"If you insist." The marshal turned and walked toward the roar and rumble of the generators.

For several moments, the deputy constable stood at the murder scene staring blankly at the floor as if it might offer some clue about the killer. A trickle of blood ran into the metal grating beneath the steam pipe and into a gutter. Bits of flesh looked as though they' been seared into the floor by the steam.

If Simmons wanted blood, he'd get it, but Scarlett would make damned sure it wasn't someone innocent. She saw a worker kneeling in front of a generator about fifty yards away and considered questioning him. The thought of asking vital questions in the midst of all the steam and racket quickly changed her mind.

"Effective next steps," she muttered and pulled on her helmet. After making her way back through the steamworks, Scarlett went upstairs and found Olga. "I need to question anyone on duty below last night."

"I'll speak with the foreman and get you a list," the marshal replied. "Most of the night shift already punched out and left."

Scarlett thought about the condition of the body and how fresh it looked. "What time do the shifts change?"

"Seven." The marshal unzipped the front of her suit and fanned herself with a hand. "Some of the ones who went further out might have clocked out late."

Even without the fancy equipment the coroner had, Scarlett felt pretty sure the victim had been killed and dumped about two or three hours ago which likely meant it had been done during the shift change. "Are the steamworks empty during the shift change?"

Olga waggled a hand. "More or less. Depends on if anyone is running late getting back."

"I need to speak with anyone who was running late and passing through that general vicinity between six thirty and seven."

"How certain are you the victim died around that time?" Olga asked. "The steamworks is a big place. I'll bet it didn't take but a minute to stage the scene."

Scarlett shook her head. "The killer wouldn't be stupid enough to rupture that steam pipe without shutting off the valve first. If he'd broken it full of pressure, it would have completely burst."

Olga pursed her lips. "You're right. Twisting those big valves shut takes at least a minute. Another minute or so to break a hole in the pipe."

"We're looking for someone strong," Scarlett said.

"Lot of strong men and women work in steamworks." Olga frowned. "Makes it easier for Simmons to pin on one of them."

Scarlett shook her head. "Someone like Marshal Garth could have done it."

"Good luck convincing Simmons to execute one of his pet monkeys."

It took a second for Scarlett to connect the word to the animal at the zoo near Science Division. Calling it a zoo was a euphemism considering the experiments the scientists did on the animals there. "Who found the body?"

"Daryl Smith found it when he was coming on shift," Olga said. "I already questioned him, but he didn't see anyone else nearby or anything unusual."

"Who was he replacing?"

"Aaron Vale." Olga slipped out of the toughsuit and grimaced at her sweat-soaked uniform. "Let's go back to the security office and I'll get his address for you."

Scarlett unzipped the front of her toughsuit and enjoyed the feel of the cooler air against her skin. She couldn't imagine how awful it must be to go down there day after day in the steam, the noise, and the odor. When they reached the small office near the front gate to mechworks, Olga went inside and returned a moment later. "Block ten, building twenty-four, unit eleven." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Let's return the toughsuits."

They walked back to the supply window and handed their suits back to young Burt Cooper since Twig was somewhere in the warehouse. He turned the epad around for them to fingerprint. As they walked back toward the main gates, Olga kept looking at Scarlett like she wanted to say something.

Scarlett tried to ignore the sideways glances, but gave in to curiosity. "What is it, Marshal?"

"Twig said the micro-breather was missing from the toughsuit Max took."

"Interesting," Scarlett said. "I didn't check to see if all the pieces were in the bag."

"The only way he made it as far as he did was because he had air." Olga stopped at the front gate. "What I want to know is why you gave it to him."

"I didn't give him anything," Scarlett said. "But if I did, maybe I figured watching the puppet constable die while Alderman and his cronies sweated would be good entertainment."

The other woman's fists tightened. "There's something dark inside you, Deputy. Your sense of self-righteousness is too bitter to be anything but personal."

"I reckon it is," Scarlett said. "Maybe a lot more people should've taken it personally when Max let their loved ones die. I think you're all crazy for not seeing it clearly."

"Take a look in the mirror and tell me who's crazy," Olga replied calmly. "Good day, Deputy."

Scarlett bottled up a retort. Didn't seem like these people would listen to reason, so why bother? She had it right and that was the end of it. It didn't take her long to march back to Central. She saw the bladewheel parked outside the saloon and huffed angrily. Peeking inside, she saw Dominic toss down a shot of swill.

"This shit's awful," he blared. "I get the good stuff over at the science campus whenever I want."

Scarlett had a mind to go in there and tell the new constable just what she thought of him getting drunk before it was even lunchtime. Instead, she took the bladewheel and headed toward Aaron's domicile on the north side of Central. His unit looked just like everyone else's in this part of town. White lettering on the concrete street outside said Block 10. Similar lettering on the building gave its number. She wondered if looking down on the city would be just like seeing a map with all the streets, blocks, and buildings neatly numbered.

She banged on the door, waited a few seconds, banged some more. Chips of presswood fell on the ground. Scarlett nearly bent down to scoop them up for recycling, but recoiled when she realized what she was doing. I'm not a trained rat. When Aaron didn't answer after about five minutes, she decided to adopt a different approach.

"Aaron Vale," she shouted, "this is Deputy Flynn. You open this door right now or I'll break it in." She didn't see how anyone could sleep through all the racket she'd made and wondered if something had happened to the man.

The door jerked open and a red-faced man with mussed hair stepped outside. "Why in the hell did you wake me up?" Aaron looked about twenty—too young to have developed the bad skin of long-time steamworks people.

"May I come inside?" Scarlett asked.

He blew out a breath and walked back inside. "Fine."

Scarlett closed the door behind her. "I'm investigating the murder of a man in the steamworks."

Aaron sat on a wobbly presswood chair in the studio apartment. His bed was folded against the wall. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You were just leaving shift when it happened in the area you were working."

"I didn't see anything," he said. "I came home straight from work and went to bed."

Scarlett noted how quickly he answered, and he hadn't even seemed surprised when she told him about the murder. Most people would have looked surprised and asked who was killed. "If you were in bed, why is it folded against the wall?"

"Because I don't want people coming in and seeing a messy bed," he replied.

"Let me take a look at your bed."

Aaron's forehead pinched. "What for?"

"I don't have to give a reason." She pointed to the bed. "Pull it down, now."

He moved the chair and pulled down the bed. The sheets were rumpled and messy and the stench of body odor wafted out. Either he'd just gotten out of bed like he said, or he never straightened the sheets. Aaron glared at her. "Satisfied?"

"Not entirely, Mr. Vale." She stepped closer. "I want to know why you're not telling me what you really saw."

"I didn't see squat."

"You did." Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "I can hear it in your voice and see it in your face plain as day. If you don't want trouble, I suggest you tell me."

He stuck out his chin. "Ain't nothing to tell."

Scarlett held his gaze a moment longer, watching the uncertainty trying to hide behind his defiant eyes. "Well, maybe Investigator Simmons will get the truth out of you."

Aaron's face blanched. "I told you I didn't see anything!" This time, desperation cracked his voice.

Scarlett turned and walked toward the door. "The minute I step outside, you've lost your chance to tell me." She looked back at him. "You tell me, and Simmons never gets your name."

When he still didn't say anything she wanted to hear, Scarlett shook her head and took a step outside.

"Wait!" Aaron ran over and pulled her back inside. He shut the door and leaned heavily against it. "You can't tell anyone anything I say."

"Depends," Scarlett said. "I might need your testimony to save a life."

"If anyone thinks I ratted out someone else, it'll be my life needs saving."

Scarlett judged the fear in his eyes to be quite real. She nodded. "No promises, but I won't release your name unless absolutely necessary."

He blew out a long breath. "I was working on a leaky pipe and completely surrounded by steam. I thought I saw something when the steam cleared for a second, so I stepped out from the pipes."

Scarlett nodded. "Go on."

"I saw Daryl Smith, my shift replacement, talking with a guy in a blue toughsuit." He shook his head. "Ain't no mistaking a lab coat and their blue toughsuits." Vale shook his head slowly. "Daryl looked upset."

A lab coat in the steamworks? It didn't make sense unless the man in the blue toughsuit was the victim. "Was Daryl early to his shift?"

Aaron nodded. "By about an hour. I was originally scheduled to work the pipes leading to the farms, but the foreman asked me to take care of the leaks on the pipes coming from Science."

"In other words, no one was supposed to be in your area today."

"Right." Aaron wiped sweat from his forehead. "I backed up into the steam real quick so they didn't see me, because lab coats don't ever come into steamworks unless something major happens, like a power or water outage."

"Did you see them again?"

He shook his head. "When I got brave enough to peek out a few minutes later, they were both gone."

"Did you see the face of the man in the blue toughsuit?" Scarlett asked.

He closed his eyes as if imagining it. "No, just his profile."

"Damn it." Scarlett bit her lip and then thought of something else. "What color was his hair?"

"Umm, I think he was bald." He furrowed his brow and closed his eyes. "Wait, actually I think he did have hair."

"Which is it, Vale? Bald or not?"

"He had black hair," the man said, eyes still closed. "Maybe he just looked bald on top from the bubble helmet."

"Straight or curly?"

Aaron squinted and took a moment to answer. "So hard to remember. Straight, I think."

If it was straight, that meant it wasn't the same man as the victim. "What about his size? Taller or shorter than Daryl?"

"He was shorter and smaller."

The mystery man didn't fit the description of Garth or his beefy friend, so it had to be someone else. Without a solid description of the hair or face, she couldn't say if it was the victim or not. That left little for her to do but pay Daryl a visit and he was all the way over in the steamworks. "Did the lab coat have an electric cart with him?"

"Oh, yeah, I saw it parked up the walkway from them." Once again he squeezed his eyes shut, but shook his head slowly a moment later. "I can't think of anything else, Deputy."

"You've been helpful," Scarlett said. She gripped the doorknob. "I'll keep your testimony secret if I can, okay?"

He nodded. "Please. I don't want to end up feeding."

"I'll do what I can to keep you safe." Her words sounded hollow to her own ears. What could the lowly deputy do to stop Simmons if he wanted to execute someone? Scarlett stepped outside and shut the door behind her. She really didn't want to go back to the steamworks, but it seemed she had little choice.

Chapter 13

Scarlett hopped on the bladewheel and turned it toward mechworks. If the lab coat Daryl had argued with was the victim, then what happened to the cart and the blue toughsuit? She imagined Daryl punching the man and tearing off the bubble helmet, then hitting him over the head. That might have given him time to pull off the man's toughsuit and position him in front of the steam pipe.

Even if Daryl was the murderer, did he stash the cart and suit nearby, or somehow drive it back through the thick steel door guarding the science campus? There were simply too many questions. After more thought, she decided the first thing she needed to do was search the steamworks for an electric cart.

Olga grimaced when she saw Scarlett wheeling up to the security booth. "Back again so soon?"

"I need to question Daryl Smith, but first I want to search the underground for an electric cart." Scarlett picked up the bladewheel. "You got any ideas where someone might hide something that big?"

The marshal frowned. "Depends on how long they want it hidden."

"I'm guessing they want it hidden long enough to figure out how to destroy it for good."

Olga shook her head. "I can tell you right now there isn't a place to dump an entire cart. You'd have to strip it down to parts and get it into recycling. I suppose a person could smuggle the small parts a little at a time, but the carbon fiber casing, the wheels, and battery would be difficult to get into recycling without raising questions."

"In that case, the cart is probably somewhere they can safely dismantle it." Scarlett hated to ask, but she needed Olga. "I'd like you to help me."

"I'd like a steak dinner too, but that isn't happening." Olga opened the gates. "Maybe someone in the steamworks can help you."

"Marshal Birch, I'm formally requesting your assistance." Scarlett tried to keep the pleading tremble from her voice. "I have a valuable lead that may help me track down the real killer."

Olga crossed her arms and gave her a deadpan look. "Tell me a little more and maybe I'll help you."

It didn't seem Scarlett could keep Aaron's information from the marshal, especially since she was the one who gave Scarlett the address, so she went ahead and told Olga about Daryl, the lab coat, and the cart.

"Looks like a civvie is gonna die for this after all," Olga said as she stepped out of the security office and closed the door.

"We still don't know all the facts." Scarlett carried the heavy bladewheel with her in case she decided to ride it underground. "I need to see if the cart is still down there or not. For all we know, Daryl was talking to someone other than the victim."

"Maybe." Olga didn't sound the least bit convinced. They went back to the supply window and Twig returned the same suits they'd worn earlier as evidenced by the sour odor emanating from them.

"We were just about to send 'em to laundry," Twig said. "I'd give you fresh suits, but we're already running low on laundry rations this month."

Scarlett glanced at the calendar on the wall behind him. "We're not even halfway through Quintas."

He nodded grimly. "The odd part is, I can't figure out why. I haven't been handing out any more toughsuits or work coveralls than normal." Twig flicked on the epad and showed them a list of names. "All the regulars check out their toughsuits or coveralls for a week at a time."

Scarlett imagined the filth accumulating over several days and grimaced. "Did you make sure you're logging all the returns properly?"

Twig snorted. "I log everything. I ain't feeding because of some paperwork error."

"How large is your laundry ration, and how much have you used?" Olga asked.

Twig looked at the epad. "I got a two-thousand-gallon water ration, a gallon of detergent, and two-hundred fifty units of electricity. So far, I'm at eighty percent usage this month."

It hardly sounded like enough of a ration to wash all the work clothes that came through this place. "You ever have this problem before?" Scarlett asked.

He nodded. "Once about two years ago, and another time about seven years ago."

Scarlett blinked. "That's it in all these years?"

"I've been running this place for decades, Deputy." Twig flicked off the epad. "The population never changes, the work never changes, and the dirt never changes. It ain't that hard keeping things steady."

Young Burt Cooper entered the supply office behind Twig with two micro-breathers in his hand. "Here you go, Twig."

Twig whistled. "You actually found something on your own, boy." He chuckled and handed them to Scarlett and Olga. "Hold onto the suits if you think you'll be going back down again this week. It'll save me on the laundry rations."

Scarlett wrinkled her nose at the odor coming from the outfit, but nodded. Once again, she and Olga suited up and descended into the brassworks. Olga took out a magpad and drew a big circle with four spokes going north, south, east, and west. "This circle is central steamworks, and these are the tunnels going to the walls."

"Is it possible to get the cart down to a lower level?" Scarlett asked.

Olga drew a square and then pointed to her left. "Over that way is an industrial lift, but you can't use it without a code from the security boys over at Science."

Scarlett nearly blurted something about how ridiculous that was, but held it in and nodded. "If it's in the brassworks, odds are it's still on this level."

"Unless it's already been torn apart," Olga reminded her. She put an X along the circle in between the spokes. "All the main tunnels going out to the wall branch off into smaller grids to supply the farms, so there aren't any tunnels going northeast, southeast, and so forth."

"You think those marks are good spots to check?"

Olga nodded. "I'd recommend we split up. You take the west and I'll take the east side."

Scarlett looked uneasily toward the thrumming generators about fifty yards away. "What if I get lost?"

"The place looks confusing, but it's a grid." Olga pointed to a faded red arrow on the walkway. "All the red arrows point toward the center stairwell. If you get lost, just follow them, okay?"

It seemed easy enough. "What's the best way to reach the places you marked?"

Olga aimed an arm due west. "Head straight down this walkway until you see the tunnel to Science Division. From there you can go north or south in a straight line to the marked locations." She circled one of the marks. "There isn't much in the way of pipes or machinery over there. That's why the workers use them to stash extra materials they don't want to return to supply so it doesn't affect their rations."

"In other words, a perfect place to hide a cart," Scarlett said. "Daryl could have disassembled it there and simply moved the parts around to the other supply dumps."

"If Daryl had anything to do with it," Olga said. "I suggest you keep his name out of this until you find proof of guilt, Deputy."

"I'll keep that in mind, Marshal." Scarlett got on the bladewheel and enjoyed the jealous look from Olga who'd be walking for a couple of miles.

The going was much easier though she had to watch for low hanging pipes and ride slow through clouds of steam. She caught a few curious glances as she passed workers. During her earlier walk through here, she didn't remember seeing so many people along the main walkway.

Then again, it was nearly lunchtime, so many were probably heading somewhere to eat. Scarlett came into view of the science tunnel and took the last walkway to the right. The pipes, steam, and noise faded considerably the further toward the northwest she went, though there was no shortage of electrical wiring or plumbing. Most of it went directly into the concrete ceiling overhead and probably into the communes above.

The walkway went behind a wall and into an empty space. Piles of various materials sat in neat rows along one side, while larger items leaned against the wall. It was a fortune in supplies, but Scarlett didn't fault the workers for fighting the irrational system. She steered the bladewheel through the rows looking for any parts of an electric cart.

What would stand out? A bit of wire or metal frame would fit in perfectly with the rest of these items. She discovered a tray of large modular batteries that matched what carts used, but they could have been from another vehicle. In the end, she found no smoking blaster, no signs of a disassembled cart, like a seat or anything with Science Division markings on it. After a thorough search, she wheeled back out of the alcove and headed south.

About halfway back to the main east-west walkway, something big and red swung out from behind a generator and caught Scarlett in the stomach. The wind exploded from her lungs. The bladewheel wobbled and skidded along the floor while her back slammed against unyielding concrete.

Three figures in orange toughsuits, dark welding masks hiding their faces, emerged from behind the generator. Scarlett gasped for breath and tried to back away on her elbows. She bumped into something and looked up into another welding mask. Scarlett might have screamed, but she wasn't that kind of person. Besides, she didn't reckon anyone could hear her except these folks.

Two figures bent over and hooked their arms under hers, lifting her easily from the floor while the other two walked behind.

"Let me go!" Scarlett kicked and wriggled, but her bearers were too strong.

One of them picked up the bladewheel and they headed southwest, dragging Scarlett along without a word. Patch tape covered the rears of their bubble helmets so she couldn't see the backs of their heads for any clue as to who they were.

They stopped near the southwest corner area Scarlett had intended to search, and the pair dragging her pinned her against the wall. One of the other two moved close enough to press the welding mask against Scarlett's helmet.

"Drop your investigation and walk away," said a deep voice, distorted by some electronic means so the owner wouldn't reveal himself. He sounded like one of the construction droids.

"Did you kill the lab coat?" Scarlett asked.

"Drop it," he said again.

She writhed against the grips of the other two. "I don't know who you think you are, assaulting an officer of the law, but you'd better let me go this instant!"

"Promise you'll drop this investigation and you're free to leave."

"Never!" Scarlett banged her helmet against his, and he backed away.

"Useless," said one of the others, their voice higher in pitch but just as distorted as the first. "Planck's death started this. Let's use her to push everyone over the edge."

"Should we get approval first?"

The first slashed an arm through the air. "Fuck that. He said any means necessary, and this is it."

"She won't drop it and you know it," said the fourth figure still standing away from the others and keeping a lookout. "Make it look like the lab coats did it. Spread the word they killed her too."

The one who'd first spoken regarded Scarlett for a moment. "I don't think people like her as much as Planck."

"Doesn't matter," said the fourth. "She was his deputy. The people will see it as another strike against the civvies."

"Why does everyone like that son of a bitch?" Scarlett shouted. "He was worthless!"

The fourth figure stomped over and pressed his forearm hard against her chest. "He did what he had to do. He saved lives and played a role nobody should have to, you miserable little idiot." He backed off. "Take her below to the shitworks. I know where we can stage her murder."

Suddenly they were on the move again, her bearers dragging her through a gray door and down a metal staircase.

Scarlett realized the last few minutes of her life were quickly ticking away toward an ignominious end in the shitworks. "Who are you people? What's going on?"

The time for talking was obviously over because they didn't answer.

She tossed out names to see if any stuck. "Daryl Smith, let me go!" One of the people ahead seemed to falter in his steps, but it didn't mean he was Smith.

Scarlett's mind worked furiously. Had these people simply happened upon her, or had they known she'd be down here? The only people who knew were Olga, Twig, and Burt. Daryl might have guessed she'd come down here too. Her assailants would have needed time to prepare—toughsuits, welding masks, and the taped helmets all indicated premeditation. While Scarlett hunted for parts of an electric cart, these people had hunted her and lain in wait.

Then again, maybe they didn't intend to kill her. Maybe this was their way of intimidating her so she'd beg for freedom and promise them what they wanted.

Scarlett didn't intend to beg them for anything—at least not yet, so she tried another tactic. "If you don't let me go so I can finish this investigation, Simmons will declare a civvie guilty and someone innocent will die."

They weren't impressed.

The third and fourth captors lumbered down the straight staircase ahead of the two gripping her. Walking the stairs was cumbersome in the suits even for these people who seemed familiar with the brassworks. The stairwell was cramped, offering her a bottleneck to escape pursuit if she could just struggle free.

Scarlett waited until they were halfway down before making a bid for freedom. Lashing out with a foot, she kicked the man on her left in the knee, sending the joint sideways with a loud crack. He screamed, the voice distorter giving it an animalistic quality, and the grip on her left arm vanished.

Before the other could react, Scarlett swung her knee hard up into his crotch. He doubled over with a loud grunt. She shoved him down the stairs into his companions. His body sent them tumbling. Scarlett ran up the stairs, pursued by distorted curses. Rubbery legs betrayed her. She stumbled to her knees, crawling on all fours before regaining solid footing.

Scarlett burst through the door at the top and ran due north, following the red arrows pointing back toward the main walkway. Sweat poured down her forehead, into her eyes and the toughsuit dragged on tired muscles until they felt like dead weight hanging from her bones. She looked back and saw two pursuers racing after her. Scarlett cursed the heavy suit and wondered if shucking it might be the only way to escape.

Just as she reached the main walkway, something rammed her and sent her tumbling to the ground. Scarlett shrieked in pain. A world of concrete, pipes, and wires spun around her, the bubble helmet clanking against the walkway. Scarlett pushed up on wobbling arms and weak knees, but she was too slow.

Someone grabbed her from behind.

Chapter 14

Scarlett rolled away and flailed with her feet.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted, as if it would do any good.

The other figure backed away and looked at her with an amused expression. Only then did Scarlett realize it was Investigator Simmons looking down at her, his electric vehicle parked nearby.

"Hard at work, I see," he said.

Scarlett scrambled to her feet but saw no signs of the men in welding masks. "We've got to get out of here."

Simmons looked back the way she'd come. "Explain."

She looked at the nearby machinery, wondering if her former captors were trying to sneak around behind them. "There were people chasing me." Scarlett jabbed a finger toward the tunnel to Science Division. "We've got to get out of here."

He looked around, but didn't argue with her. "Get on." Simmons slid into the front seat. With a twist of the control stick on the center console between the two front seats, the round electric cart rotated in place until it faced back toward the tunnel, about fifty yards away. Scarlett hopped in the other front seat.

Something big and red whizzed through the air. A huge wrench narrowly missed Simmons and bounced off a pipe. Simmons took out his blaster. "Drive the cart!"

Scarlett gripped the control stick and pressed it forward to max speed—barely faster than she could run. Simmons fired a shot. A brilliant red blaster bolt exploded against another hurled wrench, cutting it in half and sending the pieces clanging off machinery to either side of them. Something hummed, winding up to a rumbling roar as if a generator had just turned on.

Risking a look back, Scarlett saw one of the figures in an orange toughsuit lean out from behind a gray transformer and aim a long black rod at them. Simmons fired several shots, but the bolts ricocheted off the transformer. There was a loud whistling noise and something slammed into the rear seat, leaving a smoking hole. A red-hot iron rivet bounced off the carbon-fiber backing of the front seat, fell to the flooring, and rolled away.

"They're using a modified magnetic riveter." Simmons shouted. He ducked as more projectiles whizzed past, then poked the barrel of the snub-nose blaster over the seat and returned fire. "Hit the blue button." One of his shots grazed the figure with the rivet gun on the arm. The man staggered out of view, but another quickly took his place.

Scarlett scanned the console. "I don't see a blue button!"

The investigator ducked. More rivets burst through the rear seats and the carbon-fiber housing around the wheels sounding as if someone were attacking the cart with a hammer. The front seat buckled as it lost the protection of the damaged rear seat. Simmons flipped up a black cover to reveal a blue button and pounded it with a fist. The cart lurched forward.

Simmons fired his blaster until the battery ran dry. His last few shots speared into an attacker's chest and the orange-suited figure went down, smoke rising from the blast holes. A vicious smile peeled his lips back from his teeth as he ducked behind the front seats. "Another insurgency. How delightful."

"What do you mean another?" Scarlett asked, keeping as low as possible.

Simmons's smile grew broader. "Perhaps you shouldn't have heard that, Deputy."

A cold chill worked down Scarlett's sweaty skin. Despite the mortal peril from earlier, she felt even more threatened by the investigator's statement. She wanted to play it off, but another volley of rivets slammed into the back of the cart and zinged off the pipes and concrete around them. The cart reached the tunnel and the firing ceased.

Simmons sat up on his knees and looked back. "We should be safe for now."

But am I safe? "Apparently, my investigation is not very popular," Scarlett said, hoping to defuse the tension from the investigator's earlier statement by diverting him from it.

"It seems we have some difficult decisions ahead," he said and took control of the cart. "I grow so weary of being right."

Scarlett knew better than to ask for more information. Simmons's little slip of the tongue might be enough to condemn her, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. How could there have been another insurgency before and yet no one knew about it? Stories were often passed down from generation to generation. There was little the government could do to prevent oral history—or was there?

What if the scientists could erase memory? That might explain why there was no collective memory of what had happened prior to a hundred or so years ago. Then again, Scarlett had never dared ask about the history of the dome, especially since questioning the official history was grounds for a feeding.

The past is gone. The future remains.

For Scarlett, the latter seemed dubious.

Her investigation had unwittingly revealed a possible insurgency that wanted to martyr her, and now Simmons had revealed information just as deadly. The worst part was she had no control over any of it.

When they reached the steel door guarding the rest of the tunnel, Simmons stopped the cart and pressed a thumb to the red eye. With a buzz and a click, the door slid up into the ceiling and he drove beneath it. Scarlett reckoned the steel was at least twelve inches thick. No way anyone from mechworks busted open this door—not without serious help.

She wondered if perhaps none of these events were tied together. From what the insurgents had said, it sounded as though they formed because of Max's execution and wanted to start a full-blown revolution. Was Daryl Smith one of the men who'd captured her, or was his argument with the scientist something else entirely?

Scarlett felt like she'd scrambled three different jigsaw puzzles and was trying to piece them into one picture. The only thing she saw clearly was her own mortal peril.

It might be time to abandon this investigation and figure out a way to stay alive.

"You look rather troubled, Deputy Flynn." Simmons wore his amused smile. "Might I be of service?"

Scarlett decided to be blunt. "I need to know if what you told me earlier about another insurgency is grounds for my execution."

He chuckled. "I haven't decided yet. You're clever and stubborn, but you know when to keep your mouth shut."

His backhanded compliment rocked her back in the seat. "I also know better than to investigate anything that ends with me feeding. Something doesn't sit right with this murder and insurgency, but I can't put my finger on it."

Simmons took a sloping ramp up into a wide garage where electric carts, bikes, and unicycles were parked. A security marshal patrolling the garage saluted Simmons as the cart passed him. The investigator didn't even acknowledge the man.

A motor hummed and chains clinked as a metal door slid shut to their right. Scarlett caught sight of several vehicles with large blaster barrels mounted on the top. She quickly looked down at her hands, and pretended not to have noticed. It was obvious, even at a glance, that the insurgents didn't stand a chance against the weapons Science Division possessed.

"You were supposed to see them," Simmons said as he parked the cart.

Scarlett tried to play dumb. "See what?"

"Our armored vehicles, of course." A greasy smiled slid across his face. "It would be helpful if the insurgents understood the odds."

"I'm willing to help spread those rumors if they won't kill me," she replied tartly. "Do me a favor, Investigator, and tell me what you want. Subtlety isn't your strong point."

Simmons chuckled. "I find little use in subtlety when direct force works so much better." He stepped inside a room with dozens of blue toughsuits hanging on rods and removed his. "Please do the same, Deputy."

Scarlett unzipped the orange toughsuit and stripped down to her deputy uniform, then hung the suit next to Simmons's.

Once done, she followed the man into a lift. He pressed his thumb to the glowing red eye at the top.

The lift shot upward. Scarlett felt her mouth drop open as the world spread out beneath her while the crystalline dome above grew closer and closer. "Where are we?"

"In the elevator to Overlook." Simmons watched for a reaction, but Scarlett swallowed her fear and flattened her emotions.

"You're just giving me the grand tour today, Investigator." She folded her arms across her chest. "I'd like to know why." It seemed he planned to use her against the insurgency by displaying the insurmountable odds the rebels would face. What he didn't seem to account for was how the very same insurgents didn't much like her and wanted her dead.

"You're in a position of some small influence, Deputy." Simmons stared out at the green squares of farmland with the dim gray heart of concrete in the distance. "I suspect some people will listen to your warnings. Those who don't will be found quickly enough."

"You know that big fish with the sharp teeth on display in that huge water tank in front of the zoo?" Scarlett said.

Simmons raised an eyebrow and turned to her. "You mean the shark?"

She nodded. "When I was a kid, I watched a scientist toss a goat inside that tank." Scarlett shivered. "You couldn't see the shark for all the blood and guts." She glared at the investigator. "I feel like that goat right about now."

"As you should." Simmons grinned. "Social experiments are fascinating."

Scarlett wished she could throw him through the glass elevator and watch him scream all the way down to the ground. Instead, she shook her head and enjoyed the view as the elevator slowed. From this height, the trees bordering the dome wall looked like broccoli stalks and the farm and ranchlands a quilt of greens and browns. Luxville sat like a diamond in a ring of coal to the south of gray Central, its black wall protecting huge houses and the vivid hues of private gardens.

It was little wonder the administration thought so little of the civvies. From here, the few people she saw below were little more than ants. Overlook may have been designed for some scientific purpose, but Scarlett suspected it primarily fed the egos of those who worked on high.

The door behind them slid open and Simmons motioned her out. The room beyond had no walls, offering an unobstructed view of the dome and all its lands. Scarlett stared at the panorama stretching below her, then turned and saw a bridge connecting the building to the top of the wall.

"This is the top!" Scarlett pressed a hand over her mouth to keep more questions from spilling out. She stared at the other side of the long, narrow bridge where the dome kissed the wall, but the transparent material blurred into obscurity whatever lay on the other side.

The elevator returned a moment later and Terrence Alderman and Gavin Kearns stepped out. Alderman nodded at Simmons then gave Scarlett an appraising look while Kearns studied epad.

"I hear there's been trouble in the brassworks," Alderman said.

Simmons nodded. "Deputy Flynn can explain."

Scarlett swallowed a lump of apprehension as the weight of their stares fell on her. Simply asking about Overlook was an invitation for an execution, but Simmons had brought her to the top. It didn't take much imagination to see why he'd brought her here and shown her the vehicles in the underground garage. By law, he could have her executed even if he'd made her commit the crime, since the administration wasn't beholden to the rules of entrapment.

She felt her toes dipping into the shark tank and knew all Simmons had to do was cut the line. That left her little to do but tell Alderman and Simmons precisely what had happened and convince them she was too valuable to kill.

"Well, Governor, I was investigating the death of a scientist in the brassworks."

Alderman nodded. "We identified the deceased as Joseph Britain."

Scarlett wondered what role Britain served in Science Division, but knew better than to ask. "Mr. Britain was murdered, if the coroner hasn't already told you."

"Dr. Everett gave me the details," the governor said.

When it became apparent he wasn't going to elaborate, Scarlett continued with her story. "I worked off the assumption that he came from the science campus of his own free will. After looking at the thick metal door in the tunnel, I doubt anyone from mechworks could break through it if they wanted."

"We're not interested in your murder theories," Simmons said. "Tell us about your most recent adventure."

I should have known. Once again, Scarlett was reminded that this had nothing to do with solving the case, but working backward from the result Simmons and the others thought was most advantageous to them. In this case, it seemed they might be partly right.

"In my search for clues about the death, I was assaulted by four people in orange toughsuits." She repressed a shudder as the cold fingers of death trailed up her spine. "They said Max Planck's execution started this rebellion and they planned to kill me and make it look like your people did it."

Alderman put a hand to his chin and grunted. "Well, it's worked in the past."

Scarlett felt her eyes flash wide too late to control her surprise. Simmons smirked at her.

I already got one foot out the airlock or in the grinder and the governor is pushing me forward with both hands. It only took her a moment to decide which death she'd choose. A walk on the planet sounded a lot better than being ground up and spread on the soil.

Alderman glanced at Kearns. "Is it still early enough to nip this in the bud? Starting over is a last resort."

The scientist looked up from his epad. "If we factor everything correctly, yes."

"You always say that," Simmons said. "But this time, I agree."

"If Planck's execution really sparked it, then I agree as well," Alderman said.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Scarlett said, "but I'd rather not hear anything that'll get me killed."

"Isn't that what they want?" Simmons said. "If we kill you, the insurgents think it will tip the civilians over the edge of reason."

Alderman pursed his lips and looked at Scarlett. "Doubtful."

"A weak hypothesis," Kearns added. "None of my data indicates the death of Flynn would lead to much consequence."

"You thought the same about the Plancks," Simmons said. "Then again, you never were one for chaos theory."

"Please!" Scarlett put her hands over her ears. "If you plan to kill me, just say it. Otherwise, spare me the classified details and tell me what you want me to do."

"Follow me," Simmons said, and walked toward the door leading to the wall bridge.

Scarlett looked uncertainly after him, then decided this was probably the final push out of the airlock. Simmons stopped in the middle of the long bridge and looked over the chest-high railing. The door swung shut behind Scarlett, cutting off the droning conversation between Kearns and Alderman.

"Come here and look around," Simmons said.

Cold wind whistled past Scarlett's ears as she made her way out to the middle. She hadn't been frightened of the height earlier, but being naked out here with only a rail to keep her from falling, her legs suddenly felt like jelly. The dome above looked nearly close enough to touch, though it was realistically another fifty feet or more higher.

"What do you see?" Simmons asked.

Scarlett looked at the shining buildings and green gardens of the science campus far below then ran her gaze along the treeline and out to the north. "Trees, farms, science buildings."

A hand gripped her belt and her feet flew off the bridge. Scarlett's view tilted straight down and her stomach raced to her throat as she toppled over the edge of the railing.

Chapter 15

Somehow, Scarlett gripped the railing.

Hot breath whispered in her ear. "Wrong answer, Deputy," Simmons said, keeping a firm grip on her belt. "It's either the future, or something that will become a part of the past. Everything you do from this moment on will determine that outcome."

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!" Scarlett squirmed and tried to pull herself down, but Simmons wrapped an arm around her legs and tilted her even further forward.

"You think you're tough, don't you, Deputy Flynn?" The investigator chuckled. "I've made people tougher than you shit their pants, little girl. Drop your stupid act and I'll let you back down. Otherwise, I'll let you take the express elevator to ground level."

Scarlett blinked back tears. There was no fighting the man. Already her fingers ached, and she had no leverage. She was helpless. "Please, put me down."

"That's my girl." Simmons backed up and dropped her to the bridge with a thud.

Scarlett huddled against the railing and gripped it. Heart pounding, lungs panting, the world spun and Scarlett only wanted to go back inside.

Simmons squatted in front of her. "This insurgency seems to think your life is valuable, Deputy. I want you to continue your investigation. See if you can lure them back out. If they don't kill you, I want you to infiltrate them and report everything you hear."

Tears blurred her vision. She wiped them away and nodded.

The investigator gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "I want to know everything, Deputy. Don't make me doubt you."

"What if they kill me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I think they greatly overestimate the civilian reaction. I made sure word got around that you told me about the hidden toughsuit."

Scarlett's cheeks burned and her tears evaporated. "Why would the insurgents trust me if they know about that?"

"You'll simply have to convince them." He motioned toward the building. "Let's return inside."

Scarlett climbed to her feet and walked on wobbly knees back to the door. Once across the threshold, she breathed with relief. Alderman and Kearns looked from Simmons to her.

"Is she ready to work with us to solve this problem once and for all?" Kearns asked.

Simmons sighed. "There is no 'once and for all,' Gavin. Surely, even you see that by now."

The scientist shook his head. "We just have to tweak the variables."

Scarlett couldn't stop from interjecting. "By variables, do you mean people?"

"Yes, the subjects are some of the variables," Kearns said without pause.

"We need you to help us find the precise variables," Alderman said. "The exact people in question. If we can clean the rot, we may save the greater body from a fatal infection."

"Seems to me that cleaning the rot is what got you here in the first place," Scarlett said. "Maybe threatening and killing people just makes it worse."

"We can't simply let the people do as they wish," Kearns said in a lecturing tone. "We have to push them down the proper path."

"Enough," Alderman said. He looked at Simmons. "Can she do the job?"

The investigator looked her up and down. "I think she's our best chance at isolating the problem quickly."

"Very well," Alderman said. "Cut her loose."

Scarlett looked from his dark eyes to the unfocused stare of Kearns and, lastly, to the icy gaze of Simmons. She searched for some hint of grace or mercy in those windows, but found only emptiness where humanity should be. They might have looked like people, but they were so far removed from the population they governed, they'd forgotten what it meant to show compassion or feel empathy.

Simmons motioned Scarlett to the elevator. "Let's get you outfitted, Deputy."

She narrowed her eyes. "Outfitted?"

"I'll explain once we're down below."

Alderman folded his arms. "Your mission is vital to the survival of this dome, Deputy. If you acquit yourself well, there may be rewards in your future."

Like Max's reward? "Did you ever make such an offer to Constable Planck?" she asked.

"The Planck family had every opportunity to do well for themselves," Alderman said. "They chose a different path."

Scarlett wasn't so sure about that. It seemed these people chose paths for people whether they wanted them or not. "I'll do my best, Governor."

"That's all we ask." Alderman sounded so reasonable, but an underlying edge to his voice hinted at dire consequences should she fail.

She stepped into the elevator, Simmons right behind her, and tried to unjumble her thoughts. Her legs still felt weak from being nearly hoisted off the bridge, and they grew weaker still as she realized just how limited her options had become.

The grand view spread out before Scarlett, but she had no eyes for the world right now. Instead, she had to chart a narrow path between the insurgents and the administration. One side had already tried to kill her, but there was no mistaking what would happen if she failed Alderman. She might not feed at all and end up, instead, like the murdered lab coat in the brassworks.

The odds of her survival seemed extremely slim. How could she possibly convince the insurgents to allow her into their conspiracy, especially since they knew she'd turned in Max for the hidden toughsuit?

Scarlett wasn't an idiot. She was a dead woman walking.

"I wouldn't overthink things," Simmons said in his slow patronizing way. "We'll do our best to take down the insurgents quickly before any harm comes to you."

Scarlett pshawed. "You don't for a minute believe I'll be able to gain their confidence, do you?"

He chuckled. "You're a resourceful person, Deputy. If anyone can come up with a plausible reason for joining them, you can."

"Do you even care who murdered Joseph Britain?" she said.

"Not particularly." The lift stopped on level 3. The doors opened, and Simmons stepped into a sterile white corridor. "Perhaps you'll find out in the course of your new assignment." He walked down the hall.

Scarlett followed him, pausing to look through open doors she passed. Lab coats bent over tables laden with technological gadgets she couldn't even begin to recognize. One of them looked like a droid with an electric unicycle wheel built into the bottom.

"Please don't dally, Deputy." Simmons stood in a doorway. "In here."

Shiny white doors and drawers lined the walls. Simmons pressed a thumb against a red eye on the lower corner of one and a long drawer opened with a gentle sigh. Inside were thin gray rods and tiny glass beads on bumpy gray foam.

"Your badge, please."

Scarlett pulled the silver star from her uniform and pressed it into his hand. Simmons affixed a glass bead between the top two tines. It was noticeable, but tiny enough that most people wouldn't see it unless they inspected the badge closely.

"What is that?" she asked.

"A data pearl—visual and audio surveillance device," Simmons said. "We'll be able to see everything."

"All from the comfort of your own lab, I assume."

He nodded. "We'll be ready to aid you at the first sign of trouble." His tone sounded more sarcastic than reassuring.

"I'm sure you will." Scarlett pressed the badge back to her uniform. "What about a blaster?"

"Why would you need a weapon, Deputy?"

She gritted her teeth. "To protect myself, Investigator."

Simmons closed the drawer. "I assure you that won't be necessary." He touched a finger against the glowing red eye on a tall door to the right of the drawer, and a long rack slid out with the low whoosh of greased rails. Blasters of all shapes and sizes hung from metal rods. Simmons picked up a tiny pistol and weighed it in his hand before handing it to Scarlett. "Perhaps this will do."

The blaster had almost no weight to it and the battery pack was laughably small. It was still better than nothing. "How many shots?" she asked.

"Four or five at the most."

"Better than I expected from such a small battery."

Simmons smiled. "To be fair, this is only a stunner, not a blaster."

Scarlett grimaced. "I hope it's enough to stun through a toughsuit."

"Probably not," he said, completely unconcerned. "I suggest you find your assailants in a different setting than the brassworks."

"You're so full of useful advice, Investigator." Scarlett pocketed the stunner. "Is there anything else?"

"I believe this will cover it." He closed the drawer.

Scarlett thought back to the fight and remembered she lost something valuable. "What about the bladewheel? The insurgents took it from me."

"I'm certain they've disposed of it by now," Simmons said.

Scarlett hoped he might offer a replacement, but he turned and walked out of the door and waited by the lift. After they stepped in, she broached the subject. "Can I get another bladewheel?"

Simmons raised an eyebrow. "I see no need for you to have one."

"Well, if you want this investigation slowed to a crawl, then by all means make me walk everywhere." She folded her arms and leaned against the lift wall. "It's a lot faster when I can drive around town to question suspects."

The lift stopped and they stepped out into the underground garage they'd arrived in earlier. Simmons pursed his lips then headed for a door. He pressed a finger to the red eye and it clicked open to reveal shelves lined with wheeled vehicles. Tall bladewheels, some with dual wheels or knobby tires stood at the opposite end, but Simmons reached for one barely twelve inches tall.

"How long is the charge on the small ones?" Scarlett asked. "I'll be doing a lot of driving around."

Simmons's hand stopped in mid-reach. He sidestepped and removed a larger unicycle. "This one is twice as fast as the one you had."

"Thank you, Investigator." She gripped the handle and was surprised by how light it was. Everything is better in Science Division.

They returned to the toughsuit room. Scarlett grabbed hers but noticed Simmons didn't get his.

"You'll be leaving at ground level," he explained.

Since the suit was too bulky to carry with her other supplies in tow, Scarlett braved the even fouler fear-drenched odor drifting from the toughsuit and put it back on.

"Remember to affix your badge on the outside of your suit if you return to the brassworks," Simmons said.

"So you can rush to my rescue?" Scarlett said with a wry smile. "I can hardly wait."

Simmons offered no retort and closed the door to the suit room behind them.

Despite the stunner and new bladewheel, Scarlett knew she was far from secure. In fact, nowhere in Central offered her refuge. "Staying in my own home won't be safe, not with that thin presswood door the only thing keeping those brutes out. I wouldn't be surprised if they attacked me while I slept. I need somewhere else to stay so I can approach them on my own terms."

"You're certainly full of requests, Deputy."

"You want results or another dead body?" Scarlett said. "If I don't get a secure place to stay tonight, I can practically guarantee the latter."

"You could stay in the jail cell."

"With Dominic Barnes holding the key?" She snorted. "He'll keep me locked up or let the killers in."

"Perhaps." A grin creased Simmons's face. "Luckily for you, I'm in quite the giving mood today."

If this was his giving mood, Scarlett didn't want to see what his stingy mood was like. Whatever he had in mind, he kept to himself as he tapped something on his wristwatch touchscreen as he boarded the electric cart. The motor whined as Simmons drove them up a winding ramp. Just when Scarlett grew dizzy from the constant turning, daylight flared ahead and temporarily blinded her.

Scarlett blinked until her eyes adjusted. The vehicle's tires thumped across a brick-paved path threading through campus. Tall buildings of glass and glossy white stone towered overhead. Lush grass, flowering shrubs, and trees heavy with fruit occupied perfectly sculpted green spaces along the way.

A woman tugged a deep red plum from a tree then sat on a bench beneath it and looked at an epad. A man in a white lab coat lounged in the grass, idly looking up at the dome. If this was what the scientists considered work, it was no wonder the civvies had to do double duty just to keep these people in the womb of luxury.

Simmons must have noticed her gaping mouth. "A nice change from the gray drudgery of Central, wouldn't you agree?"

Scarlett regained her composure. "I reckon anything is." She craned her neck as they passed two men playing some kind of game with carved wooden pieces on a checkered board. If the civvies went into revolt, if a large number of the workers died, how would this place survive? Alderman and his men might disdain the workers, but they knew deep down that without Central, the soft, fat citizens of Science Division would have to suit up and brave the brassworks themselves.

Simmons accelerated around a curve, lab coats scurrying out of his way.

"Watch out!" A woman shouted as the cart brushed past her. Her eyes flashed wide and her face blanched when she turned and saw Simmons at the wheel. "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't—"

Whatever else she said was lost in the distance as Simmons drove on, completely unconcerned. Though Scarlett wished to know where they were going, she forced her mouth shut. They passed by a glade with a small pond in the middle. Children threw bread at quacking ducks, their excited voices and laughter mingling with those of their caretakers who sat talking on nearby benches.

A man threw a flying disc in the air, and a dog leapt into the air and caught it. Another group of adults tossed bags toward a wooden platform with a hole in it. The place was a center of activity—none of it the least bit useful to providing anyone with food or other essentials.

Across the pond, a small herd of deer grazed in the grass near a couple sitting on a blanket arrayed with food. Scarlett had never seen such wanton excess. All her life, the schools pounded conservation and frugal living into the skulls of the civvie children. It was no secret scientists were treated better than civvies, but she'd never expected this.

As they neared the gates leading out of the compound, Simmons twisted the control stick and veered onto a side road lined with small white houses. He stopped in front of the second one on the right.

Simmons turned toward her. "Welcome to your temporary home, Deputy."

Scarlett stared at the house with wonder. It had a small green lawn and a white sidewalk leading up to the door. To the right of the walkway, flowers encircled a small tree with red leaves. Even more amazing were the two large windows on the front. It was the most adorable thing Scarlett had ever seen and it was all hers.

At least until I die or solve this problem.

Somehow it seemed likely that whatever the outcome of the case, she would not be better off, despite the assurances of Alderman.

"I don't have all day, Deputy." Simmons made a shooing motion with his hand.

Scarlett pointed at the glowing red eye on the front door. "How do I get in?"

"I granted your thumbprint clearance to this house and the main gate." Simmons jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Only the main gate, not the tunnel gate or the back ones, understand?"

"Yes." Scarlett slid off the seat, tucking her bubble helmet under one arm and grabbing the bladewheel with her free hand.

The cart motor whined and rubber squealed against the concrete. Scarlett looked back and saw the vehicle turning around. Simmons waved. "Enjoy your stay, Deputy, but don't forget to do your work."

"Oh, I'll enjoy my stay," Scarlett murmured to herself. She walked to the door and pressed a thumb to the red eye. The latch clicked and the door swung inward. Muted green tiles in a small room waited across the threshold. She stepped inside and flinched at the sight of several lab coats hanging from hooks on the right wall. Cold blossomed deep in her stomach and Scarlett felt like an intruder in another person's house. She set the bladewheel and bubble helmet on the floor.

Past the front room she entered a hallway with a small wooden table. A framed picture faced her and in the picture, a man with curly black hair holding a gray cat. The ice in her stomach melted in a volcano of rage.

"Simmons, you bastard!" Scarlett stormed further inward and found the bedroom on the right. The bed, neatly made, occupied the back wall. Next to it was a short post of badly scratched wood. She should have been amazed at the generous layout of the house, but Simmons's cruel joke twisted her stomach.

He'd given her a dead man's house.

Chapter 16

Traces of Joseph Britain, the murdered labcoat, lingered in this place. Scarlett wondered if this was a cruel joke or if Simmons wanted her to look for clues. Since he'd explicitly said he didn't care who actually murdered the lab coat, Scarlett reckoned the investigator was having a good laugh at her expense.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. Simmons might find this funny, but he'd actually done her a favor whether he meant to or not. She unzipped the toughsuit and dropped it to the floor, glad to be rid of the bulky weight and bad smells. She folded the badge up in the toughsuit so Simmons wouldn't be able to hear or see her.

A methodical search of the premises began in the foyer. She checked the pockets of the hanging lab coats and found a data pearl inside the pocket of the third one. She rolled it around in her hand, wondering if the surveillance device contained a treasure trove of information she would never unlock without Simmons's help.

The pearl went into her pocket for the time being and the search continued. In the family room, she found a video screen mounted on the wall. It was huge by her standards, but only a quarter the size of the ones used to display executions. The white dot on the bottom corner activated the unit. It flickered on and a list appeared. They looked like book titles, but if so, Scarlett had never heard of them. She touched one labeled Beethoven –9th Symphony.

It started softly, a lover whispering in her ear, swelling into harmonies unlike anything she'd ever heard. The sounds filled the room and vibrated her very soul. She stood in shock, tears pooling in her eyes. Tingles raced across her skin, making her knees weak and dropping her into a chair. Scarlett felt years younger, a girl experiencing her first moment of true happiness.

She closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her.

Nathan jumped around the tree and grabbed Scarlett. "Found you!"

She giggled. "How did you know?"

He coiled a strand of her red hair around a finger. "You're not a person who hides well, silly. This bright hair stands out."

"I like finding better than hiding," she said, and hugged him. "This is the most fun I've ever had. If I could have a brother, I'd wish him to be you."

Nathan grinned. "We're just freezer babies, but I'll always count you as my little sister."

A tear warmed her eye.

"Why are you crying?" Nathan asked, alarmed. "I didn't even pull your hair!"

Scarlett gripped his hand. "Because I'm so happy."

For a brief moment, the cold emptiness in Scarlett's soul felt a flash of heat, as if some remnant of her dead brother still remained in this terrible world. The music crashed around her ears and she couldn't take it anymore. Stabbing a finger at the large screen, she shut off the music and dropped to the floor. The void swelled, taking advantage of her weakness.

"Damn you, Max!" Scarlett pounded her fists on the couch and buried her face in the cushions. "I'm just like you now." Sobs tore at her. The people she'd sworn to never serve had claimed her. Where was her stubborn pride now? How could she save anyone? Had she doomed a good man to die because of blind hatred?

Scarlett didn't want to answer the question. Just asking it clawed at her soul and made her out to be the villain she'd seen in Max.

If only the people would rise up. If only the civvies could fight the administration. If only—if only. Simmons had shown her just how impossible the task. The science marshals were too well equipped with armored vehicles and weapons. A civvie uprising would be quashed in an instant. Central was already like one big jail cell, but Alderman would be certain to reinforce that notion if he had to put down a revolt.

Looking at her few options, Scarlett saw only futility. If she succeeded in finding the rebels, Alderman might let her live, but she'd be viewed as their pet deputy. She would truly be the new Max.

I already am.

Was this how Max felt day in and day out, secretly helping civvies one day, forced to kill them the next? Had the insatiable sadness of losing his parents consumed him like the loss of Nathan ate at Scarlett?

"No!" Scarlett pounded the wooden floor with a fist. "I'm not Max! I can do better!" So far, her stubborn pride had done far worse.

Scarlett had never known all the secret ways Max helped the people. The only time she'd caught him had been the last. One of the mechworks people had found the hidden toughsuit while doing airlock maintenance just as Scarlett walked inside.

The worker had quickly tucked it back inside the wall and Scarlett pretended not to see it. The setup couldn't have been more perfect if she'd staged it herself, so she told Administrator Barnes the minute she saw him.

The question remained: Why hide a toughsuit in the airlock? She thought back to her earlier conversation with Olga. The toughsuit wasn't airtight without extra modifications. Even then, what had Sarah planned to do with her extra time on the surface?

Though Simmons hadn't released any information about Sarah's treason, it was possible she'd found information about surviving on the planet surface. Maybe there was something out past the dunes the administration didn't want anyone to know about. The more Scarlett thought about it, the more plausible the explanation seemed.

It still didn't change things on the inside.

Scarlett collected herself and resumed searching the house. The furnishings prolonged the process since there were more nooks to search. She removed drawers from furniture, dug through the pockets of all the clothes. Joseph wasn't a large man, and Scarlett discovered that his shirts and pants actually fit her rather well. She exchanged her sweaty black deputy uniform for a gray shirt and slacks and tossed the uniform atop the toughsuit. Wearing gray made her feel a little strange, but judging from the colorful clothes in the closet and drawers, scientists could wear whatever they wanted.

Next, she lifted the mattress off the bed and even searched it for cuts in case something was hidden inside it and looked beneath the frame in case something was taped to it. By the time she finished searching, it was evident that either everything useful was gone, or Britain had left nothing behind.

The data pearl was the only thing remaining, but she had no way of accessing any information stored on it. She returned to the den, the last place left to search, and pulled the cushions off the chairs. Unzipping each one and digging through the foam inside revealed nothing. She turned the couch upside down and ran her fingers along all the edges, but found only dust and a few dead bugs.

The last object was the video screen. The unit itself was incredibly thin. Scarlett tugged on a corner and gasped when it peeled from the wall and rolled up like paper. The few computer monitors she'd seen in Central were small but bulky. Even the epads were thicker than this device. She unrolled it on the floor and it adhered into place though its backing didn't feel sticky. Flipping it upside down, she flattened it on the floor and examined the gray material.

It felt slick as oil to the touch even though it stuck to just about anything she pressed it to. Scarlett realized she'd just have to accept this and move on. Science Division tech was far more advanced than anything the civvies would ever see.

As she lifted the monitor and spread it between her hands, she noticed a small curved notch in the side. It looked far too neat to be a defect or accidental damage. Scarlett pressed the monitor to the wall then ran a finger in the notch. The monitor didn't activate or do anything else when she touched that spot. If she pressed the white dot in the lower corner, it displayed the list of music.

Tempted as she was to listen to more, she turned back to the notch and tried touching it again. Nothing changed on the display.

Scarlett blew out a breath and stepped back. Maybe all the displays like this had a notch. It seemed she'd reached the end of the search and found nothing. The only thing left to do was go back to town and try to find Daryl Smith for questioning without the insurgents finding her first.

She grabbed the bladewheel and took it outside, then remembered she'd left her badge inside and turned around.

"Who are you?" A woman standing in the neighboring yard set down a small potted flower and walked over to the white picket fence.

"I'm Scarlett Flynn." Joseph's outfit apparently disguised her true nature. She decided it best not to reveal herself as a civvie and hoped the woman would assume she was a lab coat. "I'm new."

The woman's frown faded. "Where is Joseph?"

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Scarlett pressed a hand to her chest and assumed a sad expression. "He died in an accident."

"How awful!" The woman gripped the fence as if to support herself. "He was doing such important work, too."

"Oh? What kind of work?"

"I'm sorry." The woman held out a hand. "I'm Melissa Evans, from the population control sector."

Scarlett gripped the hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you Melissa, though I wish it was on better terms."

Melissa's gaze grew unfocused after she released Scarlett's hand.

Scarlett waited a moment, then prompted the woman again. "Can you tell me what kind of work he did?"

The other woman flinched. "Sorry, I was just thinking back to the last time I talked with him." Her head turned toward the house. "He was usually a very cheerful person, but lately he seemed a bit worried and detached."

Scarlett felt her pulse quicken. Back in the windowless concrete warrant of Central, most neighbors couldn't see what their neighbors were up to. Here in this wonderland, the houses all had windows. That meant it was possible Melissa had seen something.

Melissa gripped the top of the fence. "Scarlett, did you work with Joseph?"

"No. I was taken off my regular duties to assist Investigator Simmons by looking into Joseph's death."

The other woman's forehead creased. "But you said it was an accident."

"Yes, but there are some questions about how the accident happened." Scarlett pursed her lips and waited a moment. "You see, he died in the brassworks."

Melissa gasped. "What was he doing in there?"

"That's what I want to find out. Did he ever speak of going to the brassworks?"

"Who would ever want to go down there, much less"—she shuddered—"into Central with all those rough workers."

Scarlett's cheeks heated, but she let the comment slide. "What sector did Joseph work in?"

A wan smiled touched her lips. "We used to joke that his sector was the real population control."

"As in controlling the growth of the population, right?"

She nodded. "My sector monitors the population and injects new personnel as needed based on gender and the roles we need fulfilled." Melissa frowned. "If you're working with Simmons, you'd know this already."

It seemed Scarlett didn't know enough to pass as a lab coat, so she chose the next best thing. "I'm working with Simmons, but I'm not a scientist."

The other woman's eyes widened. "Y-you're not a scientist?"

"I'm with the security sector."

Melissa relaxed. "Oh, I didn't realize the marshals did investigative work."

"They don't normally, but this is a special case."

The scientist looked back at Joseph's house and nodded. "I suppose it is."

Scarlett tried to reign in her impatience. "Now, will you please tell me what sector Joseph worked in?"

"Oh, sorry. He worked under Administrator Barnes in the population regulation sector."

"Explain what that is."

"Well, they study the general mood of the populace and regulate it." Melissa tapped a finger to her chin. "They monitor the mood of the mob in relation to various stimuli and create computer models to simulate long-term effects and avoid blight conditions that could cause evolutionary reversals."

An icy hand gripped Scarlett's heart. "They can directly control the mob?" Mob was an ugly-sounding term, but the scientists obviously didn't think much of the civvies.

The scientist smiled and shook her head. "No, I don't think directly controlling them is possible without significant investment in wetware."

Scarlett wasn't sure what wetware meant, but took comfort in knowing they couldn't just mind-control the population. Even so, it sounded like the civvies were little more than sheep, whether being herded to the slaughterhouse or a peaceful pasture, not even the shepherds knew. Thankfully, Scarlett had illegally read enough books to sound more informed than she was. "In other words, the population regulation sector charts cause and effect to predict how the populace will respond."

Melissa raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Precisely."

With that question finally answered, it was time to press for more information. "Did Joseph have many visitors over the last month?"

"Not that I'm aware of." The scientist looked up and bit her lip. "A week ago, I was washing clothes in the laundry room. That window looks out toward his kitchen." She motioned toward the deceased's house. "I saw him arguing with someone."

"Did you see the other person enter the house?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I should have specified that he was holding a tablet computer and gesticulating with his hand in a very agitated manner." Melissa frowned. "I'm certain he was video conferencing with someone."

Scarlett assumed by "tablet computer" she meant "epad". It figured the scientists would use two long words in the place of a short one if they could. "Did you see him yesterday or today?"

"Sure did. Both mornings he got on his bike and pedaled to work." She peeled off a glove and scratched her rib. "Joseph always left about fifteen minutes earlier than me."

"When was the last time you spoke with him?"

"A week ago." Melissa took off the other glove and dropped them next to the potted plant. "He looked really tired and worried. When I asked him what was wrong, he just said he was under a lot of pressure at work."

Scarlett pressed for more. "Anything else? Anything at all?"

The scientist's brow pinched. "He murmured something when he turned away from me. It sounded like he said something about a plank, but I don't know what lumber has to do with anything."

Scarlett was certain Joseph had said Planck. If that had been a week ago, did it mean Sarah had committed her treason against the administration that long ago, or had her execution been planned even before that?

Something beeped and Melissa looked at a touchscreen on her wrist. "Oh, I need to check the oven." She hesitated. "If you have more questions, you're welcome to come inside."

"Sure." Scarlett was curious to have a peek inside the woman's home if for no other reason than to see if Melissa lived as opulently as Joseph had. She walked around the fence and followed the scientist.

"You can wait in the den if you'd like," Melissa said before scurrying down the hall.

The den looked identical to Joseph's aside from the light yellow hue of the wall, and the color of the curtains—a rarity in windowless Central. Scarlett activated the video screen and the same list of music she'd seen on Joseph's appeared.

"Wish they'd give us more variety," Melissa said from the doorway.

Scarlett very nearly told her she should be damned grateful because the civvies didn't have anything like this. Instead, she smiled and nodded. "Security sector doesn't get anything this nice." She walked over the screen and pointed to the small curved notch in the side. "What's this for?"

"Data pearls," Melissa said. "Don't you use those all the time in security?"

Two puzzle pieces clicked neatly together and Scarlett realized she might have all the answers she wanted in her pocket.

Chapter 17

Scarlett realized the other woman was waiting on an answer. "Our equipment isn't this nice."

"Oh, I see." Melissa tapped a foot expectantly. "So, can you tell me more about Joseph's death? I've never been to the other side, but I've heard it's really nasty out there."

Scarlett bit her tongue to keep it from lashing out. Things were nasty, but only because these people lived high off the backs of the workers. "Unfortunately, I can't comment on the investigation, Melissa." She stepped around the other woman. "If you think of anything else, please let me know."

The scientist looked glum, but nodded. "I certainly will."

Scarlett did her best not to run down the sidewalk and around the fence back to Joseph's house. Once inside, she pressed the video screen back to the wall and took out the data pearl she'd found in the lab coat. The gray bead looked just the right size to fit in the notch. Her fingers trembled as she imagined what might be on the pearl, but she just as quickly realized it could contain absolutely nothing.

The bead clicked into the notch and stayed. The screen came on and a new list appeared. The numbers didn't make sense at first until Scarlett realized they were date stamps like the ones they used when processing someone into a holding cell. She reached toward the first one but noticed an eye icon at the top. She touched it, thinking it might take her to videos. Instead, a menu dropped down with view options.

Scarlett touched the one labeled Details and more information appeared next to the date stamps.

Research log 022201

Research log 030501

Research log 031501

The list continued for several months, from Secondas all the way to the current month of Quintas, but the last file had no label, only a time stamp. Scarlett wiped her clammy hands on the gray slacks, then reached out and touched the last item in the list.

The face of a dead man appeared on the screen. "This is Joseph Britain, lead scientist for population regulation. While I have always supported Administrator Barnes's approach to variable testing, I believe he is going too far with the latest round of probes. I don't want to get anyone in trouble, but I would feel more comfortable if this was reviewed by Gavin Kearns, or even Governor Alderman himself. For that reason, I want to document my disagreement." He cleared his throat nervously. "Here goes."

His fingers grew huge and swallowed the view for a moment. Fabric rustled and sight returned, a first-person perspective. Joseph's hands grasped a computer tablet, flicked through a series of pictures, and then touched the face of Richard Barnes. A moment later, the real-life Barnes appeared on the screen, eyes narrowed.

"This had better not be about the variables again, Britain."

"Sir, I just want to reiterate that the ripple effect of your next move could throw the entire civilian population toward a revolt." Joseph's voice trembled with anxiety. "If that happens, we might not be able to turn it around."

Barnes snarled. "You're ignoring the computer models again, Britain. This will galvanize the population, not lead it into revolt."

"But I proved it—"

"You proved nothing." Barnes's jaw tightened. "Go through with the variable injections or I will replace you on this project."

"I won't do it—not yet," Joseph said. "We need peer review by Kearns or Alderman first."

The administrator's face went flat. "Very well, Britain. You'll get your peer review."

"Thank you, sir!" The frantic notes in Britain's voice faded. "I'll get right on it tomorrow morning."

"Bring the request by my office in the morning and I'll sign it," Barnes said. "Good night." The video flickered off.

"Well, that went a lot better than I expected," Britain said. The view shifted as he leaned back and let out a long sigh. "I'm really proud of myself. I usually wimp out when confronted."

A cat meowed, and the view turned to find a gray tabby. "You hear that, Whiskers? Your daddy pushed back against Barnes and he won!"

Whiskers meowed.

For a while Britain petted his cat in silence, then abruptly said, "Oh, damn, almost forgot." Fingers enveloped the view and the screen went black.

Scarlett stared at her reflection on blank screen. Her mouth hung open and frightened eyes looked back. She should be scared. Max had suspected they were all lab rats, but these people were playing god with the civilian lives in City 7. Even more troubling—did Barnes have something to do with Britain's death?

She backed up the video and looked at the hard lines on Barnes's face. His flat voice and expressionless face indicated he was probably telling Britain what he wanted to hear about the peer review. Scarlett had seen that look on Max's face before when he'd argued with Simmons and finally given into the inevitability of what came next.

Barnes had given up trying to convince Britain. He'd arrived at a decision but not the one he told his lead scientist. Scarlett stared at those dead eyes, flat lips, smooth forehead, and certainty solidified in her gut. It was then she noticed Barnes's bald pate ringed with a crown of straight black hair and Aaron Vale's description of the lab coat in the toughsuit firmly snapped another puzzle piece into place.

Barnes had been the one talking to Daryl Smith.

Smith had been an hour early to his shift, according to Vale. The reason, Scarlett concluded, was because he'd been told to meet Barnes. A moving picture formed in her mind all too clear.

After ending the call with Britain, Barnes contacts Daryl Smith and tells him to meet the next morning in the brassworks, tells him what needs to be done. The next day, Joseph Britain comes to Barnes's office, the peer review form in hand. The administrator comes up with an excuse to get Britain down in the lower garage. He knocks out Britain with a stunner, thus the burn mark on the back of the neck.

Barnes hauls Britain into the brassworks and meets with Smith. Britain wakes up, tries to escape. Smith punches him in the stomach and hits him over the head with a wrench. They position Britain in front of the pipe, but Smith knows the victim will jerk awake the minute the steam hisses into his face and try to run. Or maybe Smith doesn't want Britain to suffer. Either way, he uses a knife he brought with him and slashes the victim's throat, placing the body near a grate so the blood will drain without a trace.

Smith turns off the steam, punches a hole in the pipe and turns it on, thinking the steam will eradicate the knife wounds. Afterward, he talks to Barnes then the two part ways.

Barnes returns to the science campus, obstacle removed from his true goal.

Scarlett thought back to her meeting with Simmons, Alderman, and Kearns. Barnes should have been there, but he wasn't. Barnes didn't care about stopping the insurgents. In fact, he wanted the movement to grow and fester until it exploded. Unless he'd armed the civvies, they'd be slaughtered. If the town exploded into riots, it could mean thousands would die.

"Why?" she asked aloud. "Why in the dome would Barnes want this?"

She thought back to the ride from the brassworks and replayed the moment when Simmons said, "Another insurgency. How delightful."

Another. It had happened before but no one remembered. Either it had been wiped from collective memory or—" Alderman's words echoed in her head. "Starting over is a last resort."

Ice congealed in the pit of her stomach.

Scarlett suddenly felt sick. Acid burned the back of her throat. She raced into the bathroom and dry heaved into the sink, producing only a glimmering thread of saliva. If the civvies truly were subjects of an experiment, then starting over meant wiping the dome clean of them.

For some awful reason, Barnes wanted this experiment to fail. He wanted to start over. The whys of his reasoning didn't matter a bit.

All the speculation in the world was irrelevant if Scarlett couldn't prove this to Simmons and Alderman. She had to bring in Daryl Smith. If he'd been the accomplice, his testimony and the recording on Britain's data pearl might be enough. Alderman himself said starting over was a last resort. Surely they'd want to know and stop Barnes from completing the plan.

But would the powers that be allow Scarlett to live with this knowledge?

Probably not. But with so many lives on the line, she had to do something to stop Barnes.

Either way, she couldn't bring in Smith by herself, especially not with just a bladewheel for transportation. She had to convince Simmons to make the arrest and then tell him why afterward.

Scarlett paced for several minutes, trying to figure out her next move. The task before her seemed monumental. Would Simmons even care if she could prove it? He might simply kill her and deal with Barnes internally.

She hadn't found Britain's epad in the house, so she didn't have any easy way to contact the investigator. Actually, come to think of it, she did. Scarlett rinsed her mouth with water, briefly wondering if it came out of her rations or Britain's, then went into the bedroom and picked up her badge and the stunner, putting the latter in her right pocket.

Someone rapped on her door—probably Melissa with more information. Scarlett stuffed the badge in her pocket and walked down the hall. The door clicked open before she reached it. Instead of the neighbor, Richard Barnes stepped inside, a small blaster gleaming in his hand.

He quickly shut the door and put a finger to his lips. Before Scarlett could react, he stepped up to her, pressing the blaster into her stomach. Without saying a word, he reached into her right pocket, pulled out the stunner and tossed it into the den. His hand dug into her left pocket and manipulated the badge. He removed his hand, something pinched in his fingers, and backed away a few feet.

How did he know I had those in my pocket?

Obviously, Barnes had put his own surveillance devices in this house, probably to make sure nothing incriminating him was found.

Barnes dipped into his pocket and withdrew a small black box. It clicked open, and he pressed Simmons's surveillance device inside. He snapped the box shut and stuffed it into his pocket. "You've gotten yourself into a messy situation, Deputy Flynn. It's time we had a little talk."

"I don't reckon you want to just talk," Scarlett said, taking a step back. Her stomach fluttered and the room seemed to spin. She looked at the blaster, hoping it might just be a stunner, but she couldn't tell.

"You're right. I don't." Barnes fired the blaster.

Scarlett hadn't figured on him firing so soon, but she'd already started diving sideways anyway. The bright red bolt exploded against something in the hall about the time her head bounced off the kitchen table. Staggering to her knees, she frantically clawed her way across the tile floor and under the table. Never in her life had she been in a blaster fight, but she'd practiced firing the six-shooters Max used to have and knew they could burn a hole through her body in an instant.

Barnes would be in the kitchen in a matter of seconds, and she had nowhere to hide. Her senses finally came back to her. Scarlett bumped into a chair and considered throwing it, but a better option had already hit her on the head.

She flipped over the table just as another bolt exploded against the wall behind her, leaving a burning hole in the wall. The odor of burnt wood stung Scarlett's nose. This table was solid wood—not presswood—but it wouldn't hold up.

"Don't fight the inevitable," Barnes said. "Planck tried, but you see what happened to him."

Scarlett slid to her left, then lashed out and kicked a chair the opposite way, sending it skidding across the floor. Blaster bolts whined past, splintering the chair and blasting holes in the cabinets behind it. Utensils clanged to the floor. Scarlett dove through the door to the den. She rolled across the floor and grabbed the stunner Barnes had thrown there earlier.

It wasn't much, but it was all she had. She thought of going for the door, but Barnes's feet clopped down the hall. Scarlett leapt over the couch, bounced off the wall, and landed on her stomach.

Red bolts punched through the fabric just above her head, sending foul smelling smoke into the air. She heard a click and something clattered on the floor. Barnes was changing the battery. She sprang up and fired. The stunner hit Barnes in the ribs just as he clicked the battery in place. He cried out and squeezed off a shot. Scarlett's left shoulder felt as though it had just burst into flame.

She screamed and dropped the stunner so she could pat out the fire on her sleeve. The blaster bolt had just grazed her skin but it felt like someone had pressed red-hot metal to her flesh. Barnes groaned and grasped for the blaster. Scarlett climbed over the couch to kick it away, but he squeezed the trigger and a bolt flashed past her head.

There was no time to dive behind the couch again, so she ran back into the kitchen and pried at the window. It didn't budge.

"I should thank you," Barnes shouted from the den. "This is the most alive I've felt in years."

The man had obviously lost his mind. Scarlett gave up on opening the window and looked for something to break it. She saw a meat tenderizer and grabbed it. Barnes groaned again but a blaster shot through the door kept Scarlett from running back in to make another try for the stunner.

The heavy metal tenderizer bounced off the window, not even leaving a scratch, and Scarlett realized it wasn't ordinary glass. A bolt exploded against the cabinet. She spun, saw Barnes staggering through the door from the den and reflexively threw the utensil at him.

It smacked his head with a meaty slap and the administrator went down hard, blaster bouncing off the floor. She leaned down, hands searching the pile of utensils and found a stainless steel knife.

Barnes sat up, his hand reaching for the blaster. Adrenalin roared through Scarlett's blood. A shriek erupted from her throat as the man brought the weapon to bear. Deputy Flynn flung herself at the man. The collision knocked him back to the floor. She straddled him. Her arms swung up and down, up and down, desperation blinding her, a primal scream ripping from her throat. Hot liquid splashed on her face, in her mouth, across her arms.

Scarlett stopped and stared at the bloody mess she'd made of Administrator Barnes's chest and the knife clattered to the floor.

He coughed up blood and leered at her with a gruesome smile. "At last," he said. "It's fucking over."

"Why?" Scarlett cried out. "Why did you want the civvies to revolt?"

A gurgling laugh erupted in a fountain of crimson. "Humans will never become"—he gasped for air—"what they want." A last breath rasped from his throat, and Administrator Barnes shuddered into stillness.

Chapter 18

Scarlett tried to stand and slipped, landing hard on her back in the pool of blood. Nausea crept up her throat in a knot of revulsion. She rolled to her side and heaved. Barnes's blood bubbled from her nose and she gagged even harder. It was a good thing she hadn't eaten a proper meal all day or the sight of vomit in the blood would make her even sicker.

Somehow, she got to her knees and crawled, leaving crimson tracks behind her. When she reached the hallway she was finally able to think again, despite the coppery odor overwhelming her nose.

The investigation was over, the primary culprit dead on the kitchen floor of the man he'd had murdered earlier in the day. Justice might have been served, but this wouldn't end here. Simmons would still want the heads of the insurgents, and it would all end with Scarlett feeding.

She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and thought. In the end, the only plan she came up with would probably leave her every bit as dead as reporting the truth to Simmons, but she was determined to die on her own terms.

Is this how Max felt?

Scarlett had been surprised to see Max pull blasters from his jacket just before Marshal Garth subdued him. The constable planned to die all along, but not before he took down Alderman and the others with him.

Barnes was dead by her hand, but Scarlett had no illusions about assassinating the governor or his men. It was time to take a new route.

Joseph Britain's shower was amazing. It jetted hot water instead of dribbling lukewarm liquid, and washed the blood from Scarlett's hair and skin. She lingered a moment longer, enjoying a luxury for once instead of counting the cost from her rations, then dried with a fluffy towel she found in the sink cabinet. Considering where she was going, none of this would do her much good, but Scarlett grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and stuffed toiletries in it, then went into the kitchen, studiously avoiding the dead man on the floor, and tossed dried goods inside.

She packed Britain's clothes since they fit her decently, and dressed in slacks and a shirt. Scarlett set the duffel bag in the foyer and returned to the kitchen for the most unpleasant task of the evening. Using couch cushions to bridge the pool of blood, she dug in Barnes's pocket and removed the black box.

Steeling her nerves, she took the limp hand of the administrator and positioned it flat on the floor. With a savage chop of a large knife, she brought it down on his thumb just below the knuckle. The flesh parted, but the bone resisted the sharp edge. Pressing down, one hand on the hilt, the other on the blunt side of the blade, she worked it back and forth until bone cracked and the digit split free of its host.

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, its companion a queasy twisting in her guts. Scarlett wrapped the thumb in a washrag and backed away, deep breaths the only thing staving off another round of the heaves. Room spinning around her, she pushed to her feet and steadied herself on the door jamb.

One part was done, but more risk lay ahead. A dark future waited, no matter the outcome. Trembling, she backed away from the body. She didn't want to eat, but knew she needed strength for the final run to that unsure fate she'd chosen.

After munching on fruit from the fridge, and a tall glass of milk, Scarlett felt somewhat refreshed and ready to go. She put on one of Britain's lab coats, shouldered the duffel bag, and walked outside. The dome had already gone dark, but street lamps lit the path ahead. An electric cart waited on the road—Barnes had provided her a better ride than the bladewheel, but she set the unicycle in the back seat just in case.

Scarlett turned the vehicle and headed to the main road, taking a left toward the campus. A few people walked near the pond, enjoying nature and the night like few civvies could. Scarlett returned a wave from a man walking a dog.

He grinned and watched her go by. "Making a late night of it?" he asked.

"No rest for the weary," she replied, forcing a cheerful grin.

He chuckled. "Not around here."

Scarlett looked over her shoulder once and saw the man continuing happily on his way, unaware or unconcerned with the plight of the civvies a couple of miles away. This entire campus might as well have had its own dome for the way its denizens thought of the workers who kept this paradise watered, powered, and fed.

The cart passed between the towering buildings, their insides still lit as though they had all the power rations in the world. She saw a woman looking out of a window on the first floor, a large mug in her hand. Even the work here passed for leisure. The tires squealed on the concrete as Scarlett wound the cart down the ramp and into the underground deck where Simmons had outfitted her earlier.

A lone marshal, walking ahead, turned and glanced at her then resumed his path. Scarlett waited until he turned a corner then got in the lift. She removed the rag with the thumb from her pocket. Holding her breath, she pressed the print against the red eye. The lift shifted upward. Unlike earlier, no one was in the weapons lab, so she used the thumb to open the door to the weapons locker and quickly glided inside.

Barnes's digit opened the weapons drawer. Scarlett grabbed a rifle, a pistol, holsters, and a handful of batteries, shoving them into the duffel. She wanted to look through all the lockers, but time was too precious to risk it. She peeked outside, saw no one in sight and took the lift back down to the underground garage.

The marshal still hadn't returned from his rounds, so Scarlett crept two doors down where she found the blue toughsuits and selected one in her size. The zipper had a tight rubber seal on the inside, much better than the loose gasket in the orange toughsuits. The corresponding bubble helmet sat on a shelf above the suit. She took it and a handful of micro-breathers, each boasting a labeled duration of four hours.

"What am I doing?" Scarlett froze in place. Her plan seemed like total madness. Had Sarah Planck truly known of sanctuary in the red wasteland? The instant Scarlett breached the second airlock door, someone here on campus would be notified. After that, there would be no going back.

Killing Barnes was the point of no return, she reminded herself. It was this, or feed the father at the leisure of Alderman and Simmons. If she died, so be it. Simmons lost his chance to kill her when he didn't throw her off the Overlook bridge.

Scarlett confirmed the way was clear again, and bundled the toughsuit and other items on the back seat. The cart seemed to turn more slowly than usual, as if giving the guard a chance to spot her with suspicious cargo. She saw him emerge around the corner at the far end of the garage, too far away to see anything.

Moments later, she emerged aboveground and accelerated for the campus gates. It would have been much faster taking perimeter road, but she wasn't cleared to take the gate at the back of campus. Her only available path was going back through Central and then north. Barnes's thumb might open the back gates, but it wouldn't get her past the guard.

The gates loomed just past Britain's street. A marshal stepped from a booth and opened his mouth to speak when he saw the toughsuit and other items on the back seat.

He frowned. "Awfully late to be leaving campus. What's your destination?"

"I'm working with Investigator Simmons on a case," she explained. "I'm Deputy Scarlett Flynn. He told me I'm cleared to come and go as needed."

"Deputy? As in the civvie deputy?"

She nodded. "That's the one."

Eyes narrowed, he held out an epad. "Thumbprint."

Scarlett did as instructed. The pad flashed a green word: Cleared.

"Well, it seems you can go." He turned, hesitated. "Are you authorized to have that toughsuit?"

"How else do you think I'd get one?"

The guard mulled it over, but he wasn't done just yet. "I'll need to search the bag."

"I have evidence in that bag, and I really can't be late." She sighed. "I have to interrogate a prisoner in town."

"I'm sure your civvie business can wait."

Scarlett's cheeks warmed. "I'll bet Simmons would like to hear that." She jabbed a finger at the gate. "Open it, now."

The marshal shook his head and touched the hilt of a blaster holstered on his waist. "Not until I search that bag."

Scarlett threw up her hands. "Fine!"

He moved his hand from the blaster toward the zipper on the duffel bag. Scarlett pulled the stunner from the lab coat pocket and fired. The blue blast took him in the face. The guard yelped, body going rigid, and fell sideways to the ground.

Scarlett hopped off the cart, ran into the booth and hit a red button. The gates slid open. She hopped back on the seat and gunned it for town. She didn't know how long the stun would last, but figured she had about five minutes before the guard alerted anyone.

Her estimate was off by four minutes.

Headlights bloomed over a rise about a quarter of a mile back. "Shit!" Scarlett found the cover over the button Simmons had used to speed up their cart in the brassworks and wondered if she should use it now or if it might drain the battery too quickly. She studied the digital readout above the control stick—93% charge.

A quick glance back showed two pursuing carts gaining too quickly for comfort. Scarlett was still half mile or so to the intersection of Main and Alderman Streets where she needed to turn north. She wondered if she could lose the pursuers by taking a side street since they'd probably never guess her final destination. The guard might have assumed Scarlett was headed for the brassworks since she had a toughsuit.

Scarlett flicked open the cover and hit the button. The cart lurched forward, motor whining with a high-pitched squeal. The battery charge indicator began to slowly count down, nearly a percentage point every couple of seconds. Scarlett was no mathematical genius, but she knew, at this rate, the battery would die before she got halfway from Central to the airlock.

Keeping the stick forward, she reached into the back seat and dragged the toughsuit to the front. Working the zipper down required use of her teeth and free hand. She accidentally nudged the control stick to the side and tires squealed as it careened toward the edge of the road. She overcorrected. The cart lifted off two wheels before wobbling back down to all four, bouncing side-to-side.

Sweat dribbled down her face. She wiped it away and worked a foot down into the leg of the suit. That done, she lifted her butt off the seat and positioned the suit beneath her. It took some flexibility to worm her other leg into the suit, but she managed it without driving off the road.

The battery indicator hit 50%. By the time it reached 40, she'd worked her arms into the suit. Thankfully, the blue toughsuit didn't feel nearly as bulky as the orange ones from mechworks. She hoped it didn't drastically affect her dexterity, because her next moves would be critical.

The cart flashed past intersections and into Central. She crossed Alderman Street instead of turning left, drove past the constable station and turned left at the corner of the saloon. Barlow McGee yelped and jumped back from the wall, urine streaming from his open fly. He took one look at the blue toughsuit and ran down the street, probably thinking Science Division was there to arrest him for illegal pissing.

Scarlett would have laughed any other time, but she had only seconds to spare. The cart battery was down to 20%, but she didn't need it anymore. She skidded to a stop. Leapt to the ground, opened the duffel bag, and jammed the bubble helmet inside. The bag didn't want to zip back up, but she tugged on it until it closed all the way.

Scarlett hoisted the strap of the duffel bag across her shoulders and squared it on her back then grabbed the bladewheel. She flicked it on. A quick peek around the corner showed the pursuing carts less than a block away. Her first attempt to mount the bladewheel proved disastrous. Scarlett wobbled and fell on her chest. The weight of the duffel drove the air from her lungs.

Gasping, she pushed up, the duffel sliding sideways and threatening to fall off. With a grunt of anger, Scarlett gripped the strap and straightened it, climbed to her feet. She righted the bladewheel and mounted it, using the piss-stained wall for balance. Leaning forward, she urged the bladewheel forward just as the whine of electric carts closed on her position.

The next street to the left headed back to Alderman Street. She turned the corner just as headlights flared around the wall of the saloon. She didn't know if the people on the carts saw her, and even if they did, their batteries had to be running as low as hers while the bladewheel had a full charge.

Scarlett reached Alderman Street without any signs of pursuit and headed north as fast as she dared. Wind dragged at her, and she held tight to the duffel bag strap to keep it from sliding and pulling her off balance.

Moments later, she left gray Central and reached the ranchlands. Up a rise, down the next, the first mile seemed to drag on forever. She reached Ranch Four, the halfway point, and nearly ran into a cow standing in the middle of the dark road. Leaning hard left, she narrowly missed the startled bovine and continued toward her fate.

At long last, Scarlett crossed Perimeter Street and zipped between the bleachers. The road ended at the tall silver airlock doors. She slowed and managed to dismount the unicycle without falling, then flicked off the power. The next part required a little help from a ghost. She unzipped the toughsuit and dug out the rag with Barnes's thumb inside. Pressing it to the red eye next to the token slot opened the first doors.

Scarlett had mentally debated the next step, but decided it best she let Simmons know what Barnes had been up to. She opened the black box with the data pearl and hoped he could now see her.

"Simmons, if you get this, I need you to know why there's a dead body in Joseph Britain's house." She looked back down the road to make sure no one was coming, and continued with a short account of the incident. "Maybe you don't care anymore, Investigator, but in case there's a tiny shred of humanity left in your cold little soul, I reckon you should make sure Barnes didn't have any back up plans guaranteeing a revolt happens. He didn't think humans could ever become what was needed, and maybe they won't with the way you people run this place."

Scarlett sighed, and figured she was probably wasting her breath. In a few hours, she'd have little enough breath anyway, so she left one final thought with the investigator. "If we're the last hope of humanity, then you've crushed that hope under your cruel boots and ground it to dust. Maybe one day when this all crashes down around your ears and humans are snuffed out for good, you'll regret being such an evil, pompous asshole." With that, she set the black box on the road outside the airlock, picked up the bladewheel, and went inside.

Barnes's thumb closed the first airlock door and opened the inner one. Scarlet had to scoot fast to avoid the barbs of electricity that prodded feeders closer to their doom. As the second airlock doors closed, she screwed a micro-breather into the bubble helmet and sealed it into place, made sure the duffel was secure across her back, and gripped the bladewheel in the other hand.

Cool air whispered against her cheek, and the suit expanded ever so slightly around her as it filled with air. Thanks to the superior design, no air whistled through the zipper and it maintained pressure.

Once the inner door closed, Scarlett quickly pressed Barnes's thumb to the outer door, praying a lab coat in a surveillance room somewhere hadn't locked her out. After a tense moment, the doors hissed apart. Air slammed into her back and sent her flailing outside into the red sands.

When Scarlett managed to push herself up, she watched the door seal off her final few hours of life. She considered riding the bladewheel, but the loose chalky sand looked too deep to allow for easy maneuvering. Since the unit wasn't terribly heavy, she decided to take it with her just in case she found hard-packed earth somewhere ahead.

Scarlett looked up into the night sky and saw only a blank, black canvas instead of stars. Even in the dome, the white twinkling blurs were sometimes visible. Aside from the glaring lights on the side of the dome wall, the entire outside looked pitch black. Then again, it might be dust or clouds up in the air blocking out the light.

Just my luck. Last few hours of life and she couldn't even get a clear view of the real sky.

She continued onward, following the Plancks to see what lay beyond the dunes. Rick and Claire formed a small red hump in the landscape. Scarlett knelt and dusted off the mask of the closest body. Rick's perfectly preserved face grimaced back at her, the eyelids frosted. A cold sensation crawled across her skin, sending her into a retreat.

"I didn't have any business doing that," she said, voice echoing in the helmet. She didn't know why she'd looked. In a few hours that would probably be her.

Scarlett turned back to the dunes and followed the footsteps left by Max only a day ago. She finally reached the red hills and trudged up them. The drift dragged at her feet, loosening and taking away half a step for every one she took. She saw the furrow where Max had dropped Sarah before picking her back up and pushing forward.

Her heart beat faster in anticipation of what she'd find over the rise. She imagined the sprawled forms of sister and brother lying at the bottom of the dune on the other side. When Scarlett crested the rise, what she saw wiped thoughts of Max and Sarah completely from her mind.

A silver door gleamed dully in the blackness.

"A door?" Scarlett nearly stumbled down the dune. "What in the dome is a door doing out here?" She looked down the hill and saw divots and gashes in the sand where Max and Sarah had rolled down. Instead of a pair of bodies, she saw drag marks leading over to the doors.

All thoughts of dying fled her mind and Scarlett rushed down the hill, tripping and rolling in her haste to touch those silver beacons of hope and prove they weren't a dream. The bladewheel fell from her hand and she unslung the duffel from her back. Scarlett reached the door and held out a trembling gloved finger. The metal proved solid—real. To the right, she saw a warped piece of metal that had once covered a large, red button.

Scarlett felt the darkness around the door and realized it was a wall. She looked back toward the dome and should have seen it, even over the tall dunes. It wasn't there. This place is an experiment. But what kind? Did life or death wait on the other side of this door? There was only one way to find out.

Scarlett Flynn reached out and pressed the button.

Chapter 19

His wife lay in a lake of blood, arms sprawled to the sides, legs folded awkwardly.

"No!" he dropped to his knees heedless of the blood and cradled her still form. Sobs wracked his body. All he wanted was for this life to end.

"Sir, you're polluting the crime scene." A rookie cop gripped him by the shoulder. "Sir, you can't touch the evidence."

He roared and sprang up, bloodstained hands gripping the cop's uniform. "My wife is not evidence, you fucking moron!" He shoved the man and raked his gaze across the onlooking uniforms. "Everyone knows who did this, but does it matter?" He slammed a fist into his palm. "Fuck no! The system's broken."

So much crime. So much death. He wished the entire world would cease to exist.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder. "Detective Simmons, there is a way."

Oswald Simmons jerked awake to the sound of a beeping alarm on his bracer. He reached over to the nightstand and turned on the screen.

Airlock breach. Please check security feed.

"What the fuck?" Simmons rolled out of bed and turned on the wall screen with his thumbprint. He flicked through the icons and touched the outer camera feeds.

A lone figure in a blue toughsuit trudged across the red wasteland. He already knew who it was before looking at the other security alerts on his monitor—Scarlett Flynn.

Priority Alert: Gate security marshal attacked with stunner. Perp identified as Deputy Scarlett Flynn. Pursuit into Central.

Update—found abandoned electric cart. Subject missing.

Priority Alpha Alert: Administrator Richard Barnes found dead at former home of Joseph Britain. Body found by neighbor Melissa Evans. She heard blaster shots. Witnessed Scarlett Flynn leaving house.

Update—Administrator Barnes stabbed to death.

Simmons read the scrolling list while watching Flynn crest the dunes—as far as her former boss had made it. He felt a smile stretch his lips. Fuck the founders. Fuck science. Humans did what they did best when cornered. They survived.

His bracer beeped. He sighed and fastened the strap to his wrist, then answered. Alderman's face appeared.

"What in the hell is going on, Oswald?"

"A minor shit storm that's gonna take some cleaning when it's all said and done." A blinking alert caught his attention on the wall screen. He touched and expanded it. Flynn's data pearl had gone black when she put on the toughsuit, and the last he'd seen, she'd wrapped it up so he couldn't watch her. Apparently, she'd uncovered it just before her escape. "Hang on, Terrence. I gotta look at something." Simmons ended the call and played the video.

Flynn's pale, worried face filled the screen. "Simmons, if you get this, I need you to know why there's a dead body in Joseph Britain's house." She swallowed hard and spoke fast. "Barnes wanted a civvie revolt and calculated the best way to do it. I think he framed Sarah Planck and hoped to coax Max into feeding with her. Thanks to me, Max fed. But the revolt wasn't happening quickly enough. He had more variables to introduce."

Flynn turned her head to the side and spat on the ground. "Joseph Britain didn't like where it was headed so he contacted Barnes and recorded a conversation. The administrator promised peer review, but he had Daryl Smith, a mechworks man, kill Britain. I figured this out eventually, but Barnes had Britain's house bugged. He came over with intent to kill me." She flashed her teeth in a sarcastic grin. "I reckon he succeeded, because I'll be dead in a few hours. At least I took that bastard down first."

A tear trickled down the side of her face, but Flynn quickly wiped it away. She looked behind her down the road to Central, then turned back to the camera. "Maybe you don't care anymore, Investigator, but in case there's a tiny shred of humanity left in your cold little soul, I reckon you should make sure Barnes didn't have any back up plans guaranteeing a revolt happens. He didn't think humans could ever become what was needed, and maybe they won't with the way you people run this place."

Simmons chuckled. If Scarlett was any example, she was exactly what they needed—not that she'd ever know.

Flynn sighed. "If we're the last hope of humanity, then you've crushed that hope under your cruel boots and ground it to dust. Maybe one day when this all crashes down around your ears and humans are snuffed out for good, you'll regret being such an evil, pompous asshole."

The view shifted as Flynn set down the pearl. She walked away, leaving a clear view of the road back into town.

Simmons closed the file. Barnes is dead. It was hard to wrap his mind around the concept, but he didn't feel particularly bad about it. The man's recent abnormal behavior made more sense in light of this new information. Barnes wanted to push the citizens harder and harder, right to the edge. His calculation seemed reasonable, though risky. Simmons had learned a lot about statistics and controls and shit he still didn't care about. As long as he had law, order, and justice, the world was right by him.

Deputy Flynn had upset that order in spectacular fashion and was already well on her way to meeting her own justice. For Simmons, that was good enough. She'd die in the red sands and never trouble him again.

He called back Alderman.

"Update?"

Simmons nodded and told him about Flynn's confession. "It seems Richard had divergent plans."

"You believe her?" Alderman asked.

"Yeah."

The governor hissed air between his teeth. "I never thought Richard would be the first."

"I'm surprised any of us lasted this long."

"Yeah, but Babbage—" Alderman shook his head. "What do we tell the founders?"

"Richard went crazy and killed himself." Simmons shrugged. "No sense telling them anything else. Flynn will be dead soon enough anyway."

"We need to get a handle on this revolt ASAP." He ran a hand down his face. "We'll have to get rid of the people Barnes influenced, by seeming accidents preferably."

"Arranging accidents is a lot of work," Simmons said. "We kill off that many steamworks personnel and we'll have issues finding qualified replacements."

"We need to move Dominic Barnes from his new position to something else." Alderman bit his lip. "He'll do nothing but inflame the population if we leave him there."

"I think he'll just drink himself to death if we let him." Simmons shrugged. "Might be easiest. From what I understand he hasn't done much but visit the saloon."

"Accident or wait?"

That didn't take much thought. "Wait. We'll have enough accidents on our hands with the insurgents."

"On the other hand, we could sweeten the deal. Add favorable variables and maybe they'd stop thinking about revolt."

"Yeah, well, you could try." Simmons scratched his chin. "With Britain and Barnes gone, who's the next population regulation expert?"

"I don't know yet. If Richard trained anyone, he didn't tell me." Alderman frowned. "We might have to wing it."

Simmons chuckled. "I don't think the founders would like to hear that."

"Yeah, well I don't either." He narrowed his eyes. "One of our own tried to fuck us, Oswald. If you decide to go crazy, let me know in advance, okay?"

"We're already crazy," Simmons replied. "We just haven't admitted it yet."

Alderman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe so. We need a conference. Get Babbage out of his damned lab. I'll call Kearns. We've already had six failures. I don't want a seventh."

"Lucky number seven." Simmons flicked off the call. He briefly wondered what the founders would think of City 7 right now. Were they any closer to that perfect goal, or as far away as ever?

He sure as shit didn't know. Something burned deep in his blood as he considered the road ahead. For the first time in ages he felt alive. That girl, Flynn, had disrupted the entire system with no small help from Barnes. It had been forever since he'd last felt the call of chaos tugging on his insides.

"Humanity, Flynn?" he said aloud. "Who needs humanity when you can be a god?" Simmons burst into laughter.

It was going to be an interesting day.

Chapter 20

One Day Ago
darkness and pain. Darkness and Pain. DARKNESS AND PAIN.

Max shouted and flailed. A cloud of red dust drifted around him. His head ached so badly he could barely open his eyes. A cry of agony tore from his throat.

Wait a minute—I'm in pain?

He broke off in mid-scream and tried to understand how he was still alive and breathing. The skin near his jaw felt as if it were on fire. Max gripped the mask protecting him from the cold vacuum. It was slightly askew. The seal must have broken when he fell, releasing carbon dioxide, and letting the air from the micro-breather take its place.

Just an instant of vacuum had done something awful to the skin on his jaw. Then again, it was nothing compared to what would have happened if the mask came off. He saw another form lying in a heap nearby.

Sarah!

Max scrambled over to her and rolled her onto her back. She wasn't breathing—she hadn't been since his first footstep on the dune. How long had he been unconscious? It couldn't have been long or he'd be dead. The awful headache building right now meant he was slowly poisoning himself to death with his own exhalations.

He almost didn't dare look into the blackness, afraid that what he'd seen hadn't been real. But the silver doors were there. If it was another airlock, he might save his sister.

Max grabbed Sarah beneath her armpits and dragged her to the door. He felt around on the door but saw no way to open it. His gloved hands found a box on the side of the door, the black metal barely visible in the poor light. If there was a latch, he couldn't find it. His fingers gripped an edge where a cover fit over the box.

It wasn't much, but he gave it everything he had. Groaning with exertion, a hammer pounding his head, Max jerked and tugged until he felt like passing out again. The metal bent just a little, but unless he vented the gasses in his mask, he'd die in short order. That meant lifting the mask long enough to let the carbon dioxide escape. Die of asphyxiation or die of vacuum exposure—he'd rather try and die.

Max lifted the mask a fraction. Air exploded from his mouth and he felt as if he were about to turn inside out. Somehow, he clamped the mask back down and sucked in a harsh breath. It felt as though his lungs had nearly collapsed even in that brief moment of exposure. Still, it hadn't been instant death as he'd feared.

Salt stung his eyes as he looked down at his sister. He had the means to save her if she still lived, but would he die? Even if he saved her, did this door lead to salvation or death? Fuck it—he had to save Sarah if possible.

Max sucked in a deep breath and held it, letting the oxygen soak into his lungs. He leaned back his head and let the micro-breather roll against his chin then quickly lifted the mask. The canister rolled out and all his air rushed from his lungs. When he lowered the mask, he felt light headed, but it seemed he still had some air trapped under his mask.

He put Sarah into a sitting position, her back leaning against his chest. Positioning the canister with his fingers, he lifted her mask and slid it under. Frosted air clouded from her lungs as the vacuum sucked it from her. Max slid the canister underneath and lowered the mask. He didn't know what more he could do but pray she started breathing.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to wait and watch. He had seconds of air in his mask and had to make use of it all. He stood and turned to possible salvation. The metal cover yielded a little more to his prying fingers until finally he saw a button on a panel. His vision swam and he staggered backwards as the level of CO2 reached poisonous levels in his mask. Max held his breath and hit the button. The doors shuddered and abruptly sprang apart, revealing a small airlock with a flashing red light on the ceiling.

Numbers counted down on a wall display shielded behind a plate of glass. Max didn't know if the countdown was good or bad. Anything was better than staying out here. He staggered to a knee and blew out his breath. Unless he did something quickly, the next dose of CO2 might overwhelm him.

Max took back the air canister from Sarah, shoving it under his mask and enduring the extreme cold on his face. He gulped enough air to steady his body and dragged Sarah inside the airlock as the timer reached 10 and continued to countdown.

Those ten seconds seemed like a lifetime. For all he knew, nothing would happen, or the airlock would expel him. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—the doors zipped shut. Air blasted from vents and Max shouted in surprise. The red light went solid green and a peaceful chime sounded. He lifted the mask a fraction.

The air was chilly but not frigid like outside. The air didn't explode from his lungs. I can breathe!

He dropped the mask to the floor then ripped off Sarah's mask and put his ear to her lips. Nothing.

"No, no, no!" Max pressed his hands to her chest and pumped it like he'd learned during his law enforcement training. He stopped and blew into Sarah's mouth. No breath. No movement. "Don't die on me, Sarah!" he screamed. "Wake up!"

He pumped her chest until his arms burned and his tears ran dry. Sarah had asphyxiated long ago. She'd died before he'd ever reached the top of that dune. Max could have saved her if only he hadn't been afraid to switch the micro-breather with her. If only he'd done that just once, they'd both be alive right now.

"No," He whimpered. "No, no, no!" His ignorance had killed his sister.

Max stood and leaned his head against the padded wall. Sarah was gone forever. Maybe he'd die too within the next few minutes, depending on what waited on the other side of this airlock. What was the red wasteland he'd just endured? If it was truly outside the dome, why were there walls and a door?

Is the entire thing a trick?

He considered everything he'd seen and could draw no other conclusion. The outside could not truly be outside. If anything, it had to be an extension of the dome. One of Max's former prisoners had filled his ears about something called plays. Crews constructed sets to mimic a place in the real world so people called actors could pretend they were actually there.

It wasn't a difficult concept to understand, but Alderman considered such constructs from the past treasonous. The actor had fed the daughter for trying to make a play. Was it possible Alderman and his people were guilty of staging a scene to make everyone believe the surface of Mars was right outside the dome?

Too much about it didn't make sense. The only reason for building a set of Mars was to convince the population they were actually on the red planet. Max thought back to his coded conversation with Sarah while she was locked in the vault. The actual gravity of Mars was about a third that of Earth's. She seemed to think the gravity here was too high to be Mars.

Max sucked in a breath. What if this wasn't Mars, but Earth?

If that was true, the other side of this airlock might lead to blue skies and a green world. Maybe that was what Sarah had hoped to find with the toughsuit.

Grief swallowed him whole and it was all he could do to remain standing. If only he'd known. If only Sarah had told him more! He hugged her limp form and kissed her forehead. Max had accepted the deaths of many. Each one had burdened his soul a little more until the weight felt like a pile of bodies on his back.

Sarah's death had doubled the load. Max didn't want to move or stand. Lying down and joining his sister seemed the easiest thing to do. But thinking back to the smug look on Barnes's face lit a fire in his guts. He wouldn't just lie down and die like Alderman and those bastards wanted. Max had another shot at life and a fresh chance to kill the governor.

Sarah, I'll make them pay before I die.

If this place was on Earth, it meant his chances for survival were much greater than he'd originally thought, unless the planet had been rendered uninhabitable by war, as the official history stated.

Max put on the mask and found a button next to the other airlock door. It was time to meet his fate. He braced himself and pressed the button.

The doors hissed open.

What appeared before him was certainly not Earth. Then again, it didn't seem to be Mars either. A long gray tunnel vanished into darkness. Max looked back at Sarah and decided to leave her in the airlock for now. He could come back for her later, provided he survived. For now, carrying himself forward was burden enough.

Max lifted the mask a fraction and found breathable air so he turned off the micro-breather and held the mask in one hand. The moment he stepped across the threshold, lights flickered on for several yards ahead. As he continued forward, darkness swallowed what he left behind. After what felt like an hour, he came upon another door.

He turned on the micro-breather and fitted his mask just in case.

The doors hissed open into another airlock identical to the last one. What if another fake wasteland lay on the other side of this door, and beyond that, another dome like the one he'd lived in all his life?

Max imagined a circle of domes connected by long concrete tunnels—an endless loop trapping him from the outside world. Even if he made it across another freezing vacuum, he couldn't exactly knock on the airlock door and ask to come in. Another dome would surely have its own murderous administration that wouldn't want its citizens knowing another civilization existed outside its walls.

He lifted the mask and exhaled, sealed it back over his suit, and pressed the button.

The door hissed open.

Green, green, everywhere. Max gripped the side of the door to keep from stumbling. There were trees in all directions and bushes so thick they blocked his view. Hums, chirps, hoots, howls, thrummed against his eardrums. Compared to the relative quiet of the dome, it was almost too much to handle.

Max took off the mask and drew in a breath. The air was warm, humid—not unlike some areas down in the brassworks. A rich fruity aroma filled his nostrils and was just as quickly replaced by something dank. He left the airlock and took a step into this new world. Something sticky clung to his face. He jumped back, spitting and pulling on nearly invisible threads. Something big and yellow crawled down his arm. Max shouted and swiped at the many-legged thing and it fell to the ground.

He tried to squash it, but the little monster ran away on eight legs and vanished in the wide green leaves of a bush.

Sitting on a stump, Max cleaned the rest of the sticky thread from his face. The forest was so dense, the trees nearly blotted out the sunlight. The thought of stepping further into a wilderness crawling with strange insects and unknown animals filled him with apprehension. But if he wanted to survive, he had little choice. He'd seen creatures at the science zoo, but that small experience hadn't prepared him for surviving out here.

Max needed water and food. He hoped his life on a farm prepared him for the tasks that lay ahead. Unless he happened upon fruit-bearing trees, he'd have to kill an animal and eat it. To kill anything, he'd need a weapon of some sort, and unless he wanted to eat raw meat, a fire. Without weapons or any idea how to start a fire without man-made means, the future looked daunting.

Though doubt burdened Max's future, one thing seemed certain. City 7 and its inhabitants were not on Mars.

They were on Earth.

Chapter 21

Finding water topped the list of tasks, but before taking another step into the forest, Max needed a way to find his way back to the airlock. Until he was more confident in his abilities to find shelter elsewhere, it seemed this place would be the safest place to sleep, meaning he had to find his way back here before dark.

Unfortunately, he had nothing except the suit, the mask, and the micro-breather. Making sure the air canister was off, he placed it and the mask back inside the airlock. He searched the small space and found a maintenance panel similar to the one back in the dome airlock. Pipes and cables on the other side offered nothing of use. He felt around for a piece of loose metal, or anything that could serve as a weapon.

Clamped to the inside wall, he found something nearly as helpful—a headlight. Max strapped on the small light and tested it. The battery still worked and the light was strong. He poked his head through the large square hole and looked around. Next to the clamp for the headlight, he saw an epad plugged into a charging niche.

Max unplugged the epad and turned off the flashlight. Why is there an epad inside the maintenance panel? Several icons appeared on the screen when he turned it on. Most of them matched what he'd seen on Sarah's epad, but there was one that caught his attention: Emergency Procedure Manual. He touched it. A red scanning eye appeared on the screen.

He'd seen Simmons use these to gain access to restricted areas and assumed it was the same thing. His thumb did nothing but provoke an Access Denied message, so he closed the program and looked at the others.

Video Recorder

Camera

Maintenance Logs

Repair Request

Entertainment

The only two that worked without further authorization were the video recorder and camera. He didn't see much use for either of them. Max wondered if Sarah might have clearance to look at the other items, or if they were restricted to administrators. The walk back to her body was too far just for a test, so he plugged the epad back in its niche.

With a flashlight, the shaded forest didn't seem quite as menacing, but Max still didn't have a weapon. It seemed unlikely he'd find anything inside the airlock so he went back outside and searched. He found a fist-sized rock and a flat one. They were better than his bare fists, but still not terribly reliable.

Max's throat felt dry. He wasn't sure how long he could last without water—survival tips weren't something they taught in school—but he assumed it was probably about a week. He'd once endured two weeks without much food, giving up rations to help the Coopers after their son fed the daughter, so he reckoned he could go at least that long. The problem would be maintaining enough strength to hunt or gather food while starving.

The edge of the flat rock felt dull. It might cut warm butter, but not much else. The concrete wall had a rough surface, so he worked the edge of the stone against it, flipping it back and forth to wear down the sides evenly. Max wished he had the metal grinder from the farmhouse. It would make short work of this, but for now it was all down to elbow grease, as his father used to say.

A roar rumbled through the forest. It sounded like one of the big cats Max had seen at the science campus zoo. He tested the edge of the rock and knew no matter how sharp it was he couldn't fight a lion or a tiger with it. Running away would remain the best option. The feeding suit was tough and durable, but he didn't want to test it against fangs and claws.

Though it wouldn't kill a large predator, the sharp rock would still come in handy for marking the trail. There were plenty of trees to draw arrows on, each one pointing back in the direction of the airlock. In the meantime, Max would keep an eye out for a sturdy branch he could use for a handle, and something to bind the rock to it. It would be quite a luxury if he could manage it. For now, his hands would have to do.

Before leaving, Max decided it best to close the airlock to keep dangerous animals out. He didn't want to return only to find a predator lurking inside. Max hit the red button on the control panel. The airlock door slid from inside the wall and pressed snugly into place, leaving no trace, and concrete slid down to conceal the control panel, leaving only blank concrete where an airlock door had been.

The wall looked perfectly smooth as if no door or control panel existed.

A shock of dismay chilled Max. How was he supposed to open the door again? He pressed his hands against the wall where the control panel had been. Something clicked and the small section slid up to reveal the buttons. Max groaned with relief and left the control panel open so he could find it again.

Gathering the fist-sized rock and the blade rock, Max prepared to face the wild. Before he even stepped into the shadows of the trees, he realized how much dimmer the light seemed and realized it was probably getting close to night. He'd have to limit the distance he traveled. If he died or fell prey to one of the creatures, there would be no rescue, no help. All that would remain of him would be animal dung and bones. Somehow it seemed worse than dying back in the red sands.

"Dead is dead," he muttered. He didn't reckon there was a worse way to die than suffocating on your own breath. Then again, being eaten alive sounded plenty horrible.

Max turned on the headlight and stepped into the forest before he thought about it too much. A few paces in, he turned back and could barely see the airlock through all the foliage, so he etched an arrow into a tree just above his head to keep it visible above the bushes. He moved in a straight line as best he could, marking arrows and looking back.

He quickly discovered several more of the big yellow bugs on their sticky woven threads, thanks to the flashlight gleaming off them. He noticed they liked the areas where light shined down between the thick canopy of leaves, as did the flying insects. Max stopped and studied one for a moment, straining his memory. He'd seen a picture of this bug before, and vaguely remembered the woven threads were called a web.

A spider.

That's what it was. Roaches were the most plentiful bugs in the dome—red ones, black ones, and even some truly large brown ones far down in the shitworks. Barlow McGee once boasted about tripping over a roach the size of his foot. Then again, it was probably one of those stories where the bug grew with every telling.

Max marked another tree and ducked beneath the web so he could keep in a straight line. He had to stop and break thin branches on bushes so he could push forward. The gloves on the feeding suit protected his hands, but they probably wouldn't last long against nature. In the dome, breaking a tree branch was grounds for reduced rations or even a week in jail. Max had once locked up someone for that very reason. Now he was breaking enough branches to earn a lifetime in prison.

It seemed every step was filled with a new variety of tree he'd never seen, new insects, or some small furry creature dashing off into cover. Palm trees, the likes of which he'd only seen in Luxville, grew everywhere and in dozens of different varieties. One stood tall and thin with no branches, thick stilted roots supported another, while others were short with spiky bark.

There were also hardwoods aplenty, though Max didn't recognize most of the varieties. The most common trees bore smooth bark that leaked a creamy white sap when cut. Max was afraid to touch the stuff in case it was toxic.

Some areas of the forest were so heavily shaded by canopy, Max had to use his flashlight. It would probably be easier to see during full daylight, but the onset of dusk and so many roots and bushes underfoot made walking treacherous.

As Max pushed past a large squat shrub, a flock of colorful birds burst from cover, squawking. Max's heel caught on a root in his haste to back away. When he landed, something big and green slithered into the bushes to his right.

Max shouted and jumped off the ground, clinging to the trunk of a palm tree to avoid the huge snake. Thankfully, the reptile seemed just as scared of him as he was of it. He slid down the tree, now keeping a close eye on the ground, and moved forward at an even slower pace. Salty sweat trickled over his lips, and the feeding suit felt squishy on the inside as moisture gathered between his skin and the rubber insulation.

His throat felt dry, but tolerable. With so much vegetation, there had to be an ample water source somewhere, like a pond. If he was lucky, he might even see his first real life creek or stream.

That wasn't what he saw at all when he pushed through the next bush. Something huge flashed from cover. Max saw gleaming yellow eyes glow in the beam of the flashlight before a feline body crashed into him and knocked him on his back. The creature screamed. A paw slashed across Max's chest. The feeding suit shredded down to the inner layer.

Somehow, Max had the presence of mind to swing the big rock against the cat's head. A loud crack echoed and the rock dropped from Max's fingers. The creature staggered sideways, freeing Max. He rolled away before the cat recovered, pushed up and ran, rubbery legs threatening to collapse at any second. The big cat crashed through the foliage after him. The airlock was too far away, leaving Max little choice but to hunt for an alternative means of escape. He found an oak with a low limb and jumped up to grab it.

The cat screamed and leapt. Max jerked his legs up just in time to avoid swiping claws. Looping his legs over the branch, he pulled himself up then scrambled higher while the cat came back for another pass.

The feline looked like a lion, but with a black and tan checkered pattern—probably a cheetah or a leopard, if he remembered correctly. This one had a distinctive white patch on the bridge of its nose. The cat dug claws into the wood. It bounded upward, proving that a tree was no obstacle between it and dinner.

"Shit!" Max shouted. He grabbed branches overhead and climbed higher. A paw slashed between limbs and knocked his feet out from beneath him. Max clung to a narrow branch, feet swinging free as the leopard tried to claw him again. He flailed with a foot and nearly lost his grip. The feline stalked onto a large limb a few feet beneath Max and lunged upward.

Max jerked his feet up, hooking one onto the limb. Panting, he looked down at the pacing leopard. The cat turned back to the trunk and began to climb again. Max looked up and realized he was running out of tree. The branches and the trunk grew thinner a few feet up. They might support him, but they wouldn't support the predator. Even so, the cat would probably keep on coming until it had him. Max saw one chance to save his hide.

As the leopard drew level with its prey, Max swung out from the branch and kicked the feline squarely in the side. The beast screamed and lost its grip, tumbling through the branches with a chorus of yowls until it vanished in the leaves. For a moment, Max thought the leopard was dead, but a defiant roar quashed that notion.

Max went down a few branches and saw the leopard limping beneath the tree, a front paw gingerly held up to keep it from touching the ground. It might be possible to drop to the ground and run for the airlock, but even with a hurt paw the beast might catch him. One swipe would have disemboweled him if not for the tough inner layers of the feeding suit.

"Go away!" Max shook his fist but it did nothing to deter the animal.

Yellow eyes regarded him angrily. The leopard bounded up the tree, but dropped back to the ground with a yowl when its front paw refused to cooperate. Remaining within sight of the leopard only seemed to antagonize it, so Max clambered back up the tree as close to the top as he dared. He found a group of limbs close enough together to support his weight and sat down facing the trunk.

Twilight faded to black. Max couldn't see more than a few feet all around him even with the flashlight so he turned it off. A growl far below told him the leopard was willing to wait this out.

"Go away!" Max wearily leaned his forehead against the tree trunk. His throat felt parched and his stomach rumbled, but there was nothing he could do. It seemed he would be spending a long time up here, so he adjusted himself in a more comfortable position and wrapped his arms and legs around the trunk.

Closing his eyes only brought Sarah's pale face into focus. Tears burned his eyes and trickled down the sides of his nose. His sister was dead and he was stranded in this strange outside world. The task of finding food and water seemed impossible with vicious predators lying in wait. It seemed Max would be feeding after all, but in a more literal way than he could have imagined.

A gentle breeze swayed the tree. Max looked up and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Bright twinkling lights filled the night sky. The dome over City 7 obscured the view, turning the stars into blurs. Here on the outside he had a clear unobstructed view of the wondrously jeweled darkness.

"I'm free," he murmured. A bitter laugh followed the foolish statement. Trapped in a tree by a carnivorous monster, Max was anything but free. To be truly free, he'd need to escape his newest prison and find food and water. Being trapped beneath the thumb of an oppressive government took little work. Do what you're told and you might survive. Resist, and die.

Being free meant working hard, building a shelter, and foraging for necessities. Being free meant no one would defend him except himself. The prospect was almost enough to make him yearn for the safe womb of City 7, for the nanny state that provided everything except for liberty. But life there had merely been an existence. This was an experience none of his fellow civvies could even dream of.

It was completely up to him to live or die.

Max drifted into an uneasy sleep that cold rain soon interrupted. The first splashes of water startled him awake. Only his position against the tree kept him from tumbling over backwards in surprise. The drizzle soon turned into a downpour. Max opened his mouth to the sky and drank as much as the leaves overhead released to him, relieving his parched throat.

The water smelled and tasted different. It lacked the strong odor of chlorine he was accustomed to and had a sweeter taste. Just as quickly as it had begun, the rain stopped. The ripped outer layer of the feeding suit let the water saturate the insulation, leaving Max feeling cold despite the humid environment.

He was too tired to care. Leaning his head back against the trunk, Max drifted off to sleep once again.

Scarlett stares down at the food on her plate. "We've got to make them see, Max. This doesn't work and it never will."

The room looks familiar. A framed picture on a shelf tells Max exactly where he is—in his apartment. But why is Scarlett here?

Daylight burrowed beneath Max's eyelids, prodding him awake. He blinked and groaned at stiff muscles and bones. His lower back ached, and his butt felt raw from the branches digging into it. One of his legs felt numb from the poor positioning. Once he pulled himself up, the skin prickled as blood rushed back in.

Something whined in his ear and then his neck felt as if someone had pricked it with a needle.

"Ow!" Max slapped a hand over the spot and pulled back dark blood and a crushed insect. He heard more whining and saw more of the bugs hovering in the air around him. It seemed everything in this forest wanted his blood—some all at once, and others a little at a time.

The sunlight grew brighter, illuminating even the dark spaces beneath the thick leaves, but not quite reaching the ground where the leopard might still wait. Max didn't like being blind to the landscape. In the dome, nothing could hide, but this place hid everything until it was too late to escape.

Max decided it would be a good idea to get the lay of the land, and what better place to do it than at the top of a tree? His tree rose only a little further, but the one next to it climbed several yards higher and offered thicker branches. Max had to climb back down to a broad limb on his tree that touched the other one, then crawled over on hands and knees and began another climb.

The exertion drove blood to his stiff muscles, driving away the stiffness and pain until they were barely noticeable. A few minutes later, he reached a branch higher than most of the nearby trees and found a whole new world waiting above. It looked as though he stood above a great field of broccoli, with trees stretching as far as he could see.

Large black birds circled overhead, and in the distance, another flock darted this way and that in the morning light. It was so strange being on the outside after a lifetime of confinement to just a few square miles of space. The bright yellow sphere of the sun, unfiltered by a translucent dome, seemed even brighter than he could have imagined as it rose in the east.

Max ignored his grumbling stomach and sat down on the broad limb, content to feel the gentle breeze and let the sun dry his suit. His eyes wandered the greenish-blue sky overhead, searching for the mythical clouds he'd once read of, or some other wonder of the outside world. One of the big black birds screeched and dove into the trees. A cloud of green, red, and yellow birds exploded from the canopy and swirled up into the air like living art.

Nature was beautiful. One of the large birds speared a smaller one in its talons and landed on a tree to eat it. Nature was also damned deadly. Max watched the swirling flock as it climbed higher and higher. It seemed to bounce off something and then reversed course. A cluster of dead birds fluttered from the air and into the jungle. Some of them drifted close enough for Max to snag one from the air. He held the small body in the palm of his hand and examined it. It looked as if it had broken its neck.

Max shielded his eyes and looked up. It didn't take him long to see what the bird had hit. Though it was transparent and nearly invisible, now that he looked more closely, Max saw sunlight glinting off the obstacle. He wasn't outside at all.

This wilderness was under another dome.

Chapter 22

Max turned around and looked back toward the airlock. Though trees blocked some of the view, he saw a tall gray wall a few hundred yards away where the edges of the crystal-clear dome rested. The top of the wall rose just higher than the tallest of nearby trees, though far off to the northeast, trees with red bark towered even higher.

Unlike the dome of City 7, this one hid nothing of the outside world. Max wished he could find a nearby tree tall enough to see everything outside. To the west he saw the crest of the translucent dome over City 7, but what he really wanted to see was what other surprises he might find on the true outside. Climbing the wall might offer such a view.

It seemed his assumption that this was Earth might be premature. Sarah's question about gravity aside, these domes might still be on Mars.

Max came up with a simple checklist in order of importance:

1.                Find food

2.                Locate water

3.                Climb the wall

It was time to unravel the truth about this place.

Max prodded the dead bird and wondered if it had much meat on its bones. Even if it were big and juicy, he needed fire to cook it unless he wanted to eat it raw. Max's stomach rumbled, but the thought of tearing into raw flesh roiled his guts.

He slapped one of the irritating blood-sucking bugs and looked below. A world of spiders, more bugs, and hungry leopards waited. Unless he wanted to give up and die, he had to climb back down and find a way to survive.

Despite his farm and ranch training, Max knew nothing about hunting or surviving in the wild. He wasn't a genius like his sister, and barely knew the names of the creatures he'd encountered so far.

"Ouch!" Max slapped his neck and pulled back another glob of blood. "I don't even know what the fuck this bug is!" He wiped his gloved hand on the tree and sighed. "Make up your damned mind, Max. Do you want to live or not?"

Simply surviving didn't appeal to him at all. He needed some other reason to live. Sarah was dead, along with everyone else he'd ever loved. Revenge might be one reason, but what hope did he have of breaking back into the dome and killing the oppressors? Zero chance.

Despite all the reasons to give up, he felt something stirring in his gut—a feeling he hadn't encountered since childhood. Why was there a great domed wilderness here? What else lay beyond these walls? Was this Earth or Mars? When had humans built this?

Max felt a sense of wonder—the tug of adventure. A whole new world of discovery beckoned, and he was probably the only human in this entire habitat. Or was he? Did Alderman and the other administrators know about this place? Surely, they must have some inkling. If that was the case, why hadn't they sent people out into the red sands to make sure Max didn't make it through the other airlock door? What if they knew he'd breached the door and entered this place?

Right this very moment, there might be marshals tracking him down.

Then again, why would they care if he'd made it this far? This place was even more dangerous than living under Alderman's iron-fisted rule. In City 7, there were rules to follow. So long as you stayed between those narrow lines, you could live a decent life. Out here, it was chaos. Only the strong and the smart survived.

I'm just delaying.

There was no sense waiting any longer. It was time to go back to ground.

Before he went, he took another good look around. He spotted a large clearing to the northeast. A body of water might be there, but he needed to climb a lot higher to see, and no other tree in the vicinity offered such a vantage.

Max made his way back down the tree, but the limbs thinned out considerably and the trunk widened too much to shimmy down, so he crossed back over to the smaller tree he'd climbed last night. The leopard was nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean it was gone. It might be hiding nearby.

He spotted his sharpened stone lying on the roots below, and the other rock resting in a patch of mud. Quickly, he dropped to the ground and retrieved his puny weapons, then crouched and waited. No attack other than biting bugs came over the next tense moments, so he decided to proceed forward since there was no use going back to the airlock.

Max marked the trees and headed northeast toward the clearing. The tree cover grew thicker and the smaller foliage thinned until there was little but roots, trees, scattered bushes, and twilight as the sun struggled to reach the ground through the leaves. It was still bright enough to see clearly and, with most of the underbrush gone, Max felt he had a better chance to spot predators. The flashlight helped a little, but he kept it off to preserve its battery.

Fallen trees covered in moss, and a scattering of ferns and other short plants painted a beautiful landscape, but Max couldn't afford to drink it all in. Even without the biting insects, the hairs on his neck stood on end. It was as if something about this place activated a forgotten part of his brain, something inherited from his earliest ancestors.

The dome's official history mentioned ancient man and his tenacity. It celebrated how humans rose from people with clubs to a species advanced enough to reach the stars, though there was little detail in between the two. Max hoped he had some of his ancestors' ability to live without technology. If he felt like he was being stalked, it probably meant he was.

Max ducked beneath a fallen, moss-covered tree and looked at his surroundings. He spotted movement. Something large lumbered his way. It stopped and pawed at a bush, long snout sniffing. Max knew what it was—a bear, all big and black and covered in hair. It didn't seem to have noticed Max, or else it didn't care.

It sat like a human and bit the bush, tugging on each branch and stripping it of leaves. Max went down on his stomach and wormed closer for a better look. He peeked up over a root and got a clear glimpse of the beast. It wasn't eating the leaves on the bush, but berries.

His stomach rumbled noisily and the bear's ears perked. It looked at him for a moment then went back to eating.

Max's mouth watered at the thought of the berries, of their sweet juices running down his throat. Some sort of insanity took hold, and he considered ways to attack the bear with his rocks. Better yet, maybe he could kill the bear and eat it.

That's crazy!

But he really wanted those berries.

Max decided to try something. If it failed, there were plenty of trees to climb. He stood up and hefted the sharp rock in one hand. If he threw it correctly, he might hurt the bear and scare it off.

The bear looked at him. It huffed and jumped to all fours. When Max cocked his arm to throw the rock, the bear turned tail and ran.

"You'd better run!" Max shouted. He ran after the fleeing creature and watched as it bounded into thicker foliage and vanished. "Well, that was easier than I thought." At least some creatures didn't want to eat him. The bear looked big enough to swallow him whole, but maybe it was only interested in plants.

Max turned to the bush and began plucking blueberries from the untouched branches. The first bite drew a moan of pleasure. Sweet, but with a touch of tartness, it filled his mouth with delicious juices. He greedily ate until there were no more berries left. His stomach wasn't full, but it wasn't complaining as loudly.

He studied his surroundings and found several more similar bushes. One of them bore purple berries, and another red ones. Curious, he plucked a red berry and put it in his mouth. Just as he was about to bite into it, he noticed that this bush seemed almost unmolested, whereas the blueberry bushes had been munched on by the wildlife. Why hadn't this bush been touched?

What if the red berries were poisonous? Max spat the berry on the ground and hoped he hadn't already swallowed toxins on the skin of the fruit. He knelt next to the bush and studied it. The leaves looked similar to those on the other plant but were waxy and slick to the touch. The red berries weren't as plump. That didn't mean they were poisonous, but Max didn't want to test the theory. He picked one and crushed it between the rocks. Green, gelatinous guts with small brown seeds spurted out.

Max studied the other bushes and determined the one with the purple berries looked untouched as well. If he wanted to survive leopards and poisonous plants, he would have to hone his observation skills. This part of the forest offered a better view of any encroaching predators, but there were plenty of other dangers to worry about. He reckoned there were animals he'd never seen that would eagerly rip him to shreds, and probably just as many that could kill him with a single bite.

Using the sharp rock, Max carved an arrow in the trunk of an oak and pressed onward in the direction of the clearing he'd seen. He'd covered about a hundred yards when the branches far above rustled and leaves drifted down. Max scurried behind a tree and looked up. He spotted shadowy figures swinging on vines and tree limbs. As they drew closer, their chattering grew louder.

Monkeys.

Plush gray fur adorned the small creatures. They were too high for Max to make out more detail, and didn't look like a threat so he pushed onward. A dull roar reached his ears as he neared the clearing, as if all the noises of the forest erupted from somewhere head. The sound of rushing water, birds singing, monkeys chattering—too much for his mind to filter.

Several tree markings later, he reached the edge of the forest and cautiously pushed through the foliage for a look. Water rushed off a cliff and poured into a deep blue pond. Black boulders rose near the clear center and reeds grew in the shallower areas where mud from the hooves and paws of the animals clouded the water.

Pink birds with long legs and beaks strutted in the shallower waters near the banks. A flock of brown goats lapped at the water, and hundreds of colorful birds perched on the cliff and the black boulders.

Max could hardly believe his eyes. Animals he never knew existed frolicked about the banks or lapped at the water. It was like something out of a fairy tale his mother had once told him. Sunlight sparkled off the pond's surface, creating a surreal scene he could never have imagined.

The muddy water exploded into froth. Birds took flight and the land bound creatures scattered. In the blink of an eye, something huge and green, a lizard with massive jaws clamped onto one unlucky goat and dragged it into the water. He realized belatedly it looked just like the crocodile on display at the science campus zoo.

Max gasped and stumbled backward. The fantasy was gone, replaced by the brutal reality of this wilderness. What looked beautiful one moment could kill in the next. He centered himself back on the task at hand. There was water, but how safe was it to approach and drink? He certainly didn't want to be a crocodile's lunch.

His stomach grumbled a reminder that the berries wouldn't hold it for long and his parched throat cried for relief.

"Even if I kill something, how will I cook or clean it?" Max murmured. Much as he disliked the notion of eating raw meat, he might have no choice. He was thirsty and ravenous. Going without food would only weaken him into easy prey.

Max peered through the bushes. The birds had already settled back down to the rocks, and the other pink birds once again dipped their beaks into the shallow waters. The herd of goats gathered even as the blood of their former companion stained the pond surface. A leopard padded up to the pond and began to drink, but neither the birds nor the goats seemed worried about the killer in their midst.

Maybe they knew when the big cat was hungry. Maybe it was safe to approach the water. The predator's nose lacked the white patch of the leopard that had chased Max earlier.

Remaining behind cover, Max circled away from the leopard just in case. He emerged closer to the waterfall where the water ran clear and deep. No plants grew in the sandy soil on this bank, so he was plainly visible to the other creatures of the forest.

A few regarded him curiously, but seemed otherwise unconcerned by his presence. Max set down his rocks, knelt, and cupped a handful of water. He sniffed it then touched his tongue to the liquid. It lacked the chlorine bite he was accustomed to and tasted sweet like the rain. Max gulped greedily until his dry mouth felt moisturized.

The leopard looked up from the water and regarded him for a moment, then padded back into the forest. Some of the hooved beasts wandered from the water and chewed on the leafy plants or grass. Max looked into the lake and saw small fish swimming near the surface. The water was clear enough that he could almost see the bottom. The large reptile was nowhere to be seen.

Plenty of edible options presented themselves, but Max might have only one chance to snare a quick meal. Having visited the fish farms in City 7, he knew how difficult it was to grab a fish barehanded. The birds would be nearly impossible to catch. The goats were small enough to tackle and seemed like the easiest prey, so he decided to test his luck with them.

Max walked slowly toward his next meal. One of the goats at the edge of the herd raised its head and stared at him, but didn't appear poised to run, so he crept closer. Another goat bleated and stomped a hoof.

"Don't worry about me," Max said in the coaxing voice he'd used with cattle during his ranch training. "I just want to eat you."

A white billy goat burst from the bushes in a full gallop. Before Max could react, horns smacked into his thigh and sent him tumbling into the shallow waters. He rolled through mud and felt the bank fall out from beneath him. Water filled his mouth and rushed into his feeding suit and something brushed against his leg.

Max's screams turned to gurgles as he sank.

Chapter 23

Something rushed past Max and a tail slapped against his ribs.

Shouting in terror, Max thrashed and gripped a handful of reeds. He felt something poking his feet. Images of the carnivorous reptile flashed through his mind. He imagined those powerful jaws clamping around his ankle and dragging him into the depths.

Another scream gurgled from his mouth. He jerked on the reeds and pulled himself back into shallow waters. The billy goat bleated and stomped a hoof, but Max would much rather take a bruising than lose a leg.

He splashed water at the belligerent goat and shouted, "Back off, fucker!" The beast backed off a few steps and watched him warily.

Something nibbled on Max's leg, soon joined by the sensation of small forms bumping up against him. He didn't know if it was fish, or something worse. Crying out in terror, he pulled himself up to his knees in the mud and ran. The billy goat bleated and chased after him.

His legs felt heavy from all the water trapped in his feeding suit. Though the uniform was skin-tight it had expanded to allow the water in, especially where the leopard had torn it open at the chest last night. Horns rammed into Max's butt and he flew forward. Mud smacked into his face and blinded him.

Goats bleated and hooves stomped.

Max wiped mud from his face and turned around in time to see the billy goat charging him again. He'd dealt with unruly calves before. This damned goat was no different! Max gripped the goat's horns and twisted to the side. The beast flopped over with a surprised bleat. Max punched the goat in the face and instantly regretted it. Pain jolted his knuckles.

"I'm going to eat you!" Max shouted. He slogged over to where he'd left his rocks and turned to face his adversary.

The goat got to its feet and stomped a front hoof. The other goats lent their bleats to the war cry of their leader's, some of them screaming and making awful hissing sounds. The billy goat charged. Max raised his rocks and unleashed a battle cry of his own.

"Come get me you bastard!" Max backed up as the goat trotted toward him.

The beast reared up on hind legs, lowered its head, and rammed. Max sidestepped and let the goat slam its head against the rocky cliff. The impact didn't seem to faze the beast, but Max slammed his big rock against the side of the goat's head. It stumbled sideways. Max hit it again and again. The goat bleated in pain.

Hot blood sprayed onto Max's face and the goat went limp. His followers bleated and called, but none of them charged. Panting, Max leaned back against the cliff and nursed his aching arms. If this was what he had to do to survive in the wild, he almost wished he could return to the city. But the people there were little more than sheep, led easily to the slaughter. At least here he could fight and live—or die.

Now Max had plenty of food and water, but he had no canteen to store the water, or fire to cook the food. It seemed he'd have to eat it raw. That raised another issue. How was he supposed to cut through the hide and get to the meat? Even the sharpened stone would have a tough time of it.

He sighed and looked around for his meager cutting tool, found it half-buried in the sand nearby. The sharpened side failed to slice through the goat hide when Max bore down on it with his weight. He knelt and resorted to hacking at it, both hands gripping the stone. By the time he'd cut through a strip of hide, his suit was covered in blood and his hands ached. If not for the gloves he would have terrible blisters.

Max ripped up the hide to expose a haunch of bloody red meat. His gorge rose at the thought of biting into uncooked flesh. Unless he figured out how to make a fire, he didn't have much choice. Thankfully, he'd helped butcher cows before, so the thought of cutting the goat didn't bother him too much. The stone did a poor job butchering the meat. He resorted to digging in with his hands and jerking on the flesh.

Wet and slick with blood, the meat tore loose with the sounds of popping tendons and rending flesh. Despite his butchery experience, it was enough to make his stomach turn. Finally, a slab of crimson, dripping meat rested in his hands.

A deep-throated rumble caught his attention. He turned and saw golden eyes staring intently at him. The white patch on the leopard's nose left little doubt it was the same cat that had treed Max last night.

"Son of a bitch." Max held eye contact with the beast and slowly rose to his feet.

The cat's nose wrinkled, lips peeled back to bare fangs. The leopard hissed and crouched, muscles coiled and ready to pounce. A low rumbling like distant thunder rolled from its throat. Max's bowels nearly let go. He had nowhere to go but the water where he might face the deadly crocodile or one of its companions.

Even then, the cat might leap in after him. Max had learned to swim at the fish farms during his aptitude training, but that had been over ten years ago. In the dome, water was for drinking, not swimming, unless you lived in Luxville or worked on the fish farms.

Max looked at the dripping meat in his hand and realized he had only one good option. He threw the haunch of goat at the leopard. The cat snapped it out of the air with its teeth. Max backed up until he felt the cliff behind him. The leopard stared at him for a moment, then dropped the meat and began tearing at it with its teeth.

"I hope you choke on it," Max muttered. He glanced back at the cliff. The rocky face provided enough handholds for climbing, and he'd prefer to be up there instead of in another tree while waiting on the leopard to leave. It was only about thirty feet tall. When he reached the top, he discovered the cliff ran about a hundred yards to either side before ending in the forest.

Patchy grass and shrubs poked through cracks in the black rock. Water pooled in a small basin a few feet from the waterfall, fed by a burbling stream emerging from a cave. Despite his complaining stomach, Max was instantly curious. He'd seen pictures of caves, but they didn't exist in City 7. He stopped outside the dark entrance and looked in. The stream filtered through a thick metal grate a few feet inside. Beyond that, Max saw the smooth insides of a pipe.

He wrinkled his forehead in surprise then just as quickly rolled his eyes. "Of course there's a pipe, stupid. The founders made this place like they made City 7." It was hard to think of such a wondrous place as artificial.

Max looked down the cliff and saw the leopard finish off the haunch of goat. It looked up at him with glittering golden eyes then locked its jaws around a leg of the dead animal and dragged it into the forest.

"I'm going to kill you next!" Max grabbed a loose stone and threw it after the cat, but it hit a tree and bounced away, startling the goats into a cacophony of bleats. He groaned and sat down next to the cave to assess his options. He had an endless supply of water and the cliff seemed like a safe place, though he'd have to survey it to be sure. With so many animals counting on the pond below for water, it made finding prey easy.

Killing and butchering the animal would be the hard part, as evidenced by his sore hands. The gloves on the feeding suit were already wearing thin from hacking at the dead goat. Max didn't think they'd last for much longer. He also desperately wanted to shed this extra skin and let it dry. His feet made squishing noises every time he walked thanks to the trapped water.

Despite the inconveniences it seemed he was better off than he had been this morning. After a few moments of sulking, he got up and walked along the plateau, following the ridge into the trees. It ended in a straight drop just beneath the canopy of an oak. The branches were thick enough to support him if, for some reason, he felt compelled to join the monkeys.

Max backtracked to the opposite side of the ridge and found the end there as well. All four sides looked steep enough to keep the big predators away unless Patch, the leopard, was smart enough to climb one of the neighboring trees and use a branch to reach it. Without an axe, there wasn't much Max could do to prevent that.

His only two weapons remained at the base of the cliff where he'd left them in his haste to escape the leopard. With a full meal in its belly, Patch might leave him alone for the time being, giving Max time to find his own food. After surveying the area for several minutes, Max clambered down the rock face. A different herd of hooved animals warily approached the watering hole. They looked similar to deer, with golden hides and white bellies but sported long straight horns instead of antlers.

Max didn't care what they were. At this point he'd eat anything.

Nostrils flaring, steps cautious, the deer stepped closer to the water. They didn't seem to mind Max's presence, but were skittish around the muddy shallows. Two pink birds flapped their wings, splashing water at each other and some of the deer hopped high into the air and bolted. Max reckoned they'd tangled with the crocodile before.

After picking up the rocks, Max walked slowly around the pond until he was at the farthest point from the waterfall. The water here was muddy but calm, and the deer stood only feet away. Some of them raised their heads and stared at Max with big brown eyes. His hip still hurt from his encounter with the billy goat and he was eager to avoid making another mistake like that. Every one of these animals had horns and could probably butt him into the water or even gore him if they aimed right.

Max sidled closer and closer. Moments later, he was close enough to reach out and touch one. He tensed and prepared to pounce. The surface of the calm water vibrated, spreading small ripples. Max tensed for another crocodile attack. The deer raised their heads in unison and looked back into the jungle, nostrils flaring. The sound of cracking limbs and bushes echoed from the forest.

An unpleasant chill ran up Max's spine. What new challenge was coming to ruin his day? The answer came seconds later. Massive gray monsters thundered from the forest. The leader was the biggest of all. A grotesquely long nose hung between curving white horns, and its ears were nothing but huge flaps of skin on the size of its boulder-sized head. Max had seen pictures of these monsters. What were they called—elephants?

Legs weak with fright, Max backed away.

The lead elephant's nose curled up and blasted a challenge. Deer scattered, and birds took to the sky. The horn of a panicked deer caught on the tear in Max's uniform and dragged him to the ground. He fell right in front of the charging monster.

Max tried to roll away, but he and the deer were tangled together to the end. He desperately grabbed the deer around the throat and dragged it sideways, but it was too late. Hammer-shaped feet pounded past, throwing mud into the air. Knowing it was futile to cover his head, Max looked up at the great gray beasts as they veered around him and went to the water.

Three miniature versions of the creatures trotted past. One of them raised its nose and prodded him curiously. A blast from the nose of one of the adults sent it racing away after them. With huge splashes and a chorus of nose blasts, the elephants went into the water where they frolicked like children. Max marveled at how they sucked water into their noses and showered it out on themselves. He was so preoccupied with them that it took a moment before he realized the deer he'd tangled with wasn't moving.

His prey, its neck broken, heaved a last breath and went still.

"Reckon I'll get a meal out of this after all." Max tugged the horn free of the feeding suit then spent a moment locating his rocks. He dragged the carcass back to the cliff while the giants played in the pool.

A pair of large crocodiles crawled onto the opposite shore away from the elephants. Big as the crocs were, they'd lose in a fight with one of the gray beasts.

Max slung the deer across his shoulders and, using the cracks and crevices, climbed to the top of the cliff. He set down the deer, then went back down and retrieved his rocks. Once safely back at the top, he went to butchering the deer, using the same hacking method he'd used on the goat.

Shoulders and arms aching, he flopped down on his back next to a pile of bloody meat. It had taken him an hour, but he finally had food. Now all he had to do was eat it. His stomach grumbled hungrily but twisted in revulsion at the thought of what he had to do.

Max sat up and took a small piece of dripping meat. He rinsed it in the water until most of the blood washed away. "Probably better than the rations in the dome," he said. His stomach wasn't convinced. He licked his lips and popped the meat in his mouth.

A strong coppery taste filled his mouth and his throat revolted. Max gagged and coughed the meat into his hand. He pounded a fist on the ground and clenched his teeth. "Damn it, I need to eat!" Max shoved the meat back into his mouth and chewed, chewed, chewed, ferociously fighting his gag reflex. His taste buds finally accepted the strong taste and his stomach stopped twisting.

Max swallowed and waited. It stayed down. He ate another small piece and another until he'd had enough. It wasn't the worst meal he'd ever eaten. In fact, it tasted pretty good once he got past the thought of eating raw meat. Maybe this life wouldn't be so bad. He'd survived the airlock. He could survive the wilderness.

Standing on top of the cliff, Max raised a fist and roared, "I will survive!"

A shimmering blaster bolt whined from the forest and nearly took off his head.

Chapter 24

Max dropped to his stomach.

Another bolt of red light flashed overhead and blackened the water tunnel entrance. It seemed Alderman had sent someone after him. For all Max knew, a dozen armed people were closing in around the cliff. It looked like he'd only postponed his death for a day. Something clinked on the ground next to him and rolled to the water tunnel.

Max didn't know what it was, and he wasn't waiting around to find out.

He sprang to his feet and leapt off the cliff. An explosion rocked the air and a blast of heat slammed into his back. He flipped forward and smacked hard into the water, missing one of the boulders by inches. Consciousness fled for an instant and returned in a rush. He thrust his legs a few times and his head broke the water

The elephants blasted their noses in alarm and thundered into the forest. The herd of deer sprang away. The crocodiles slithered back into the water, only a few yards from Max's position.

Max kicked his feet and flailed his arms desperately until he could stand in the muddy shallows. He ducked behind a boulder and looked to the far end of the pond where the blaster shots had come from. A man in green shorts and matching shirt dodged behind a tree as the stampede of animals thundered past.

When the activity died down, the man edged around the tree and peered toward the pond. He stared at it for several seconds, and Max realized the man was looking for a body. Shouldering a black blaster rifle with a long muzzle and scope, the man strode from the tree and went up to the water's edge. He frowned, eyes scanning the pond.

"I know you're around here somewhere," he said in a strange accent. "Make it easy on yourself and come out."

Max glanced across the twenty yards separating him from the fringe of bushes at the edge of the forest. He could probably make it before the man shot him, provided there weren't more people waiting nearby. If the man had company with him, why hadn't they come out of the forest yet? Surely, they would have all opened fire on his position.

It was now or never. Max crept to the side of the boulder and peeked around the reeds growing there.

A laser bolt sang past and sand exploded inches away.

"You're trapped," the man said. "Surrender and I'll end it quickly. Force me to come over there, and I'll use my hunting knife."

"Who are you?" Max shouted. "Did Alderman send you?"

"Alderman?" The man sounded confused. "Never heard of him. As for me, I'm Ranger Creed, and you, my friend, are a contamination in the jungle habitat."

"What the hell is a jungle?" Max shouted.

"You're in it, you bloody buffoon." The ranger grunted. "You know damned well maintenance workers aren't allowed in the habitat."

Maintenance workers? "I'm not with maintenance," Max said. "I'm from City 7."

"City 7?" Creed's voice rose incredulously. "Making up stories won't save you, my friend. You broke the rules, so come out and pay the price. I'm afraid the scientists are rather strict about violating the sanctity of the reserve."

If this place was a jungle habitat, did that mean there were others like it, just with different environments? The zoo had dozens of micro-habitat displays ranging from grasslands to deserts, to forests. He didn't remember one labeled as a jungle, but there were too many to remember. "Are there other habitats like this one?" Max asked.

"I grow tired of the bloody Q and A," Creed said. "Come out now and I'll make this quick and painless."

Max clenched his fists. He felt just as helpless as yesterday except this time he was facing a blaster instead of the red wastes. "Why do you have to kill me?" He peered around the back edge of the boulder where there were no reeds to move and give him away. Max saw the ranger circling around.

"As I said, the penalty for violating the reserve is death. I don't know how you sneaked past security and, frankly, I don't care." Creed took a few more steps. "Everyone knows the rules, my friend."

"If you'll just give me a chance, I'll show you the secret airlock leading to City 7." Max dug a smooth stone from the sand. He had one slim chance of getting to the forest.

Creed pshawed. "Nonsense, boy. Lying won't get you out of this." Creed paused. His eyes homed in on Max, but he didn't bring the rifle to bear. "Where is this supposed secret airlock?"

"To the southwest," Max said, ready to pull back his head if Creed lifted the blaster. "It leads to another dome."

"Another dome?" The ranger pursed his lips. "You're certainly a creative fellow, I'll give you that." Creed sighed. "I hate to kill you, but rules are rules and security would have my head."

"Can't you make an exception?" Max asked plaintively.

A slow grin spread across Creed's face. "I'm afraid I can't." He tapped a finger to his chin. "Tell you what, though, why don't we make this interesting?"

Max didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"How would you like a sporting chance?"

"You'll give me a blaster?" Max asked.

Creed laughed. "No. But I will give you the count of ten. At least this way you have a chance to die like a man."

Max stared at the man. "Count of ten?"

The ranger bent to place the rifle on the ground and straightened. "Nine. Eight. Seven."

Without another second of hesitation, Max sprinted into the jungle, racing toward the airlock. He hadn't gone far when he realized how foolish that would be. Creed would follow the arrows on the trees and find him in no time. He'd see the footprints going to the wall and vanishing and figure out how to open the hidden panel. On the other hand, he might believe Max's story and let him live.

It only took a second to discard that idea. Creed hadn't given an inch. Even faced with the truth, he probably wouldn't change his mind. Max had to go somewhere else, but where? Patch, the leopard, had nearly killed him twice already, but a man with a rifle was infinitely more dangerous.

If Creed patrolled this habitat regularly, then he probably knew every nook and cranny just like Max knew City 7. Even worse, Max might run headlong into other predators before Creed tracked him down. Still, the odds for survival were marginally better than they had been a moment ago and Max hadn't made it this far to die.

Across rutted ground, under fallen trees, and into denser brush, Max ran for his life. His legs turned rubbery, and his lungs gasped for breath. Leaning against the trunk of a tree on a steep rise, Max looked back. Tall ferns and bushes covered the jungle floor in this area, making it difficult to see very far. Of Creed, he saw no sign.

Max noticed broken fronds and his footprints along the path he'd taken and realized the ranger would have little problem tracking him. Max had tracked people through the forest at the fringes of City 7. He was no expert, whereas Creed was probably experienced at tracking animals.

Somehow, Max had to lay down a false trail or hide the one he was making now.

Brad Cooper.

The boy's name brought with it painful memories. Hardly a kid, but he'd fed the daughter just for trying to reach Overlook. The first time Brad had tried to sneak to Overlook, he'd gone through the outer forest. Max had tracked him and stopped the boy from reaching it, but he'd only saved Brad's life temporarily. The next time the boy got smarter and tromped to the south, then backed up over his own footsteps, and reversed course, stepping on stones he'd brought to avoid leaving footprints.

It had taken Max too long to figure out what Brad had done. By that time, the boy had been caught trying to break into Overlook. Brad Cooper had died, but he might save Max's life. There weren't any stones nearby, and Max had once again lost his only two weapons during his escape. That meant he had to figure out another way to avoid leaving footprints.

Movement in the distance caught his eye. From the vantage point of the rise, he was able to make out a humanoid figure stalking his way. Creed didn't seem to be in a hurry. The ranger knelt and examined something, but it hardly seemed he needed to since Max had left such a clear trail.

Leaves drifted down as a colony of monkeys swooped past overhead. One of them stopped on a branch a few feet above and looked at Max curiously.

Max wished he could—the solution hit him. He wasn't a monkey, but many trees had branches touching those of their neighbors', and in some cases, thick vines capable of supporting his weight. He could use them to traverse some of the jungle without touching the ground. The hard part would be climbing the initial twenty feet up to the closest branches. Most of the tree trunks were far too wide for him to easily grip with his arms and legs.

The other difficulty would be backtracking in his own footprints without Creed catching up first. Max's dash for freedom hadn't lasted for more than a few minutes. He was in decent physical shape, but that didn't make him a sprinter. Then again, he hadn't been a tree climber a few days ago either.

Adapt or die.

Max had no other choice. Taking a deep breath, he jogged forward on tired legs. Instead of proceeding straight, he curved in one direction for a way then dodged back in the other direction. He found a scattered field of black boulders and hopped from one to the other across a muddy clearing to avoid leaving footprints. Max felt ready to collapse. If he wasn't far enough ahead of Creed by now to reverse his path, then he'd never be. It was now or never, and the stony field provided a good chance for him to vanish.

Max ran further into the jungle then painstakingly backtracked his footsteps. He ran in another direction for a hundred feet, then backtracked that one as well. The fake trails probably wouldn't fool Creed for long, but they might send him in the wrong direction for long enough.

Several suitable trees grew at the edge of the clearing. Max climbed a boulder, closed his eyes, and spun. He went toward the first tree he saw when he opened his eyes. The trunk was wide, but he squeezed his knees against the sides and shimmied up. Gasping for breath, he reached the lowest branches a moment later and gratefully pulled himself up to the broad limb and rested.

Max didn't remain there long. It would take him time to climb higher where the branches of other trees intersected this one. He'd climbed another twenty feet when he found the first bridge to freedom. The broad, leafy limb was about two feet wide where it intersected the trunk. Max got down on his knees and shuffled across the narrowing limb and gripped the branch from a neighboring oak.

Though the leaves blocked a clear view to the ground directly below, Max trembled at the thought of falling. Steeling his nerves, he shifted his knees to the opposite branch and quickly crawled toward the trunk of the oak. He'd just reached it when he saw Creed step into the rocky clearing below.

Max lay down on the branch, using its width and the leaves to conceal himself. Creed climbed the nearest boulder and knelt on top, surveying the clearing. A few moments later, he stood and walked to the edge of the clearing. From there, he walked in a slow deliberate circle, head down as he looked for a trail.

The ranger spotted the first fake trail and disappeared down it. Max regretted not making it longer, but he'd simply run out of time. He thought about heading for another tree, but it was likely he'd make too much noise, or send leaves floating down to the ground by moving around too much.

Instead, he stayed motionless and waited.

Creed returned not long after leaving and continued circling the clearing. He found the second false path, followed it, and returned. After making a complete circle around the clearing, the ranger walked into the center and looked up at the trees. He did this for only a matter of seconds before bracing his chin in one hand and looking out into the jungle.

The ranger knelt on the rock and peered intently toward the direction Max hadn't left a path, fake or real. He nodded to himself, then marched off, apparently convinced Max had somehow headed that way without leaving footprints.

Max let out a long quiet sigh of relief, but stayed where he was. He'd give the ranger another thirty minutes before risking movement.

Provided Creed had actually been fooled, what was next for Max? This was only a temporary solution. It wouldn't take long before the ranger was back on his trail one way or the other. Creed obviously wouldn't listen to reason. The next time the ranger had Max in his sights, he'd pull the trigger without hesitation. The only long-term solution was clear.

Creed had to die.

There were several problems with that plan, the least of which was Max's lack of a weapon. The ranger was armed, on familiar terrain, and a good tracker. On a more positive note, the jungle offered ample hiding places and Creed was only human. After all, he'd fallen for Max's redirection.

When it seemed like enough time had passed, Max stood and stretched then contemplated the path of branches. It would be hazardous and slow, but it might be best to keep to the trees for some distance before climbing back to the ground. He edged along the broad limb until it narrowed and gauged the distance to the branch on the next tree.

A flash of light was all the warning he received before a blaster shot sliced through the limb where it connected to the tree. The weakened branch cracked and sagged. Max realized it would break before he could get back to the trunk. He had only one way to go—across.

Max leapt for the next branch and felt the heat from a blaster bolt whizz past his back. He grabbed the other limb, but another shot gouged a hunk from the wood. Max shouted and grabbed for solid wood, but it was too late.

The branch snapped and Max fell.

Chapter 25

Max's shoulder slammed into a limb. He rolled off it and fell another five feet before smacking into the next. For an instant, everything went black. When he blinked away the fog, leaves blocked his view. Max groaned and looked around. The breadth of the limb he rested on had arrested his brutal descent.

Blood pooled beneath his face and every inch of his body ached. He wanted to probe for injuries but didn't dare move. His ruse hadn't fooled Creed. The ranger had obviously made a show of leaving then hidden somewhere below and waited for Max to move. The man was even cleverer than Max previously imagined.

Treed with nowhere to run, it appeared the final hour had finally come. In truth, his bones and muscles protested even the thought of running. It was time to make his peace and die. He closed his eyes. The sounds of nature filled his ears—bird calls, the blasting noise of the gray beasts somewhere in the distance, and the chattering of monkeys.

Dying here in nature was at least better than suffocating on the red sands. He had witnessed things few civvies in City 7 ever would. Should he simply stand and let Creed shoot him, or jump of his own accord? Jumping might prove more painful since there were still plenty of branches between him and the ground, so he decided offering Creed a clear shot might be less painful.

He imagined standing up, holding out his arms. A searing red blast taking him in full in the chest, his lifeless body toppling forward, bouncing off limbs and finally crashing into the hard ground below. Creed, stepping from his hiding spot, kneeling and inspecting his human trophy, a smile on his face.

Anger surged through Max's chest. His fists clenched and his heart raced. The aches and pains in his body suddenly seemed insignificant to the brutal end awaiting him. He'd given up on life after his parents' execution, but Sarah's plight had awakened him. Max had fought the tyrants of City 7 and he'd won! Creed was just another bully, a man with a blaster and territorial advantage, who wanted to take Max's life. Creed was no different from Alderman or his cronies. Only the circumstances had changed.

Sarah had proven that where there was a will, there was a way. She hadn't survived to see this day, but Max knew it was only right that he carry on. She'd searched for the truth about this dome world and the responsibility had passed on to him.

"Use your damned brain," Max murmured. "How do I get out of this tree and how do I kill Creed?"

The answer to the first question dawned on him as the afternoon turned to dusk. Unless Creed had some means to see in the dark, Max could climb down the tree. It would be treacherous and he might fall and break a leg or die, but it would be better than allowing Creed to slaughter him like a cow.

Max peeked between the leaves and found the ground far below. The trunk of this oak looked far too thick to cling to with his legs and arms. Like many of the trees here, thick vines and creepers hung from the limbs of his refuge. Some of them reached even as far as the ground. The monkeys seemed to have no problems using them, but would they bear Max's weight?

He'd discover the answer quickly enough. Keeping as still as possible, Max looked at the vines but none of the closest ones reached all the way to the ground. He needed to see the other side of the tree before it became too dark. Looking up, he spotted the broken limb hanging from the tree he'd leapt from. Max couldn't see the rocky clearing from here because of the leaves, but it seemed likely Creed lay in wait on the opposite side. The scope on his gun probably offered a clear view of the trees, so if Max raised his head too high, he might lose it. Somehow he had to rotate himself enough to see the vines on the other side of the oak.

It was amazing how something so simple could seem so impossible.

Shrieking monkeys distracted him for a moment. It seemed the group he'd seen earlier was somewhere close. Max sighed and focused back on survival. How could he reorient himself?

Spinning on his stomach would expose his legs or head. Same result if he sat up and turned around. He wondered if curling into a ball and turning would be effective. It would be difficult but keep him mostly shielded by the limb. Leaves rustled and the shrieking of monkeys grew louder. Beyond that cacophony, an awful howling and barking noise filled the air, sending chills up Max's spine.

A flurry of hairy arms, legs, and tails exploded from the trees. Gray monkeys flashed past, some of them leaping onto his back before continuing to the next tree. Their panicked shrieks hurt his ears. The howling grew louder and Max saw why the smaller monkeys were frightened. Large beige monkeys with furry fringes around their fierce faces burst from the nearby trees in pursuit.

One of them leapt on Max. Fangs flashing, it howled and beat its chest. Max had no choice but to move. He rolled over and the large monkey leapt away. Another even larger one appeared on a branch above. It looked down at him with small golden eyes. Its muzzle peeled back to show long white fangs. It barked and dove.

Max kicked out to stop the beast. A blaster bolt slammed into the monkey and the burning beast vanished with a terrible howl. More bolts exploded through the leaves, many of them missing Max's position by a wide margin. Creed must have mistaken the monkeys for Max.

But surely Creed's extensive experience would keep him from mistaking a flight of monkeys from a human in a tree. Creed didn't seem to be hitting any other monkeys with his constant shots. If anything, it was panicking the beasts even more. With so much movement, how could Creed even know where Max was? After Max had fallen, the ranger must have lost sight of his prey.

The genius of the ranger's plan became clear. He wasn't shooting at the monkeys—he was firing to keep Max in place. The huge commotion was the perfect cover for Max to slip away. Grasping the limb, he rotated back toward the trunk then slid forward on his belly until he had a view of the other side. A vine dangled about six feet away.

More of the larger monkeys raced through the trees, intent on chasing their smaller counterparts, but soon, they'd be gone and Max would have no cover from the ranger's shots. He stood and jumped to the next branch then leapt for the vine. The palms of his gloves tore. Wood bit into his palms. His momentum sent the vine swinging. Max wrapped his legs around it and slid down.

He reached the end seconds later and grabbed a lower vine. Quickly, he swung his legs around it and slid to the end until he dangled ten feet from the ground. There were no more vines and only the thick tree trunk between him and the carpet of ferns below. Seeing no other choice, Max dropped. His feet slammed to earth, knees folded, and Max tumbled through the brush.

Ankles complaining, Max staggered upright and ran.

Ferns slapped his thighs and roots did their best to trip him. Moments later, exhausted and gasping for breath, he dropped to his knees to rest. The sound of the monkeys had long since faded. Only the persistent chirp of insects and the calls of birds echoed nearby.

Had he lost Creed?

Probably not for long. Max caught his breath and staggered forward. The ground grew muddier as he forged on. The trees changed from hardwoods, to cypress, and biting insects filled the air. The suit provided some protection, but Max continually swatted at his neck to keep the pests away.

He arrived in a small clearing with a pond. Though his parched throat begged for relief, the water smelled stagnant. Green moss and algae floated on the top and buzzing insects flitted above the surface. A bright yellow frog with black spots sat at the water's edge. Max had seen green ones, but none with such vibrant colors. Something about its glistening skin made Max wary of touching it. He remembered a scientist at the zoo giving a speech about frogs and how some of them were poisonous.

In this wild place, anything was possible.

Once again, Max relied on the little knowledge he'd retained from visiting the science campus zoo. The micro-habitat with the frogs had looked similar to this place. The placard named the area a swamp or bog. The names were as unpleasant as the places they described.

Max took a moment to examine his feeding suit. The tears from earlier had widened and the palms of the gloves were completely shredded, worn away from sliding down the vines. Whatever protection the outfit had provided was nearly gone. Soon, he might be reduced to running naked.

Dusk faded, making it difficult to see. Max didn't know where he was in relation to the air lock. In fact, he was hopelessly lost. Without weapons or light, he'd be vulnerable to the wildlife. He looked around and found a cypress with low-hanging vines and decided it would be safer to once again nestle in a tree for the night.

Climbing a vine proved much harder than sliding down, and the rough wood biting into his hands didn't help. He made it to a branch and climbed up further until he reached a broad arc in the tree where it forked into three more trunks. Lying between them, they would keep him from rolling off and falling in his sleep.

Bones aching, muscles weary, Max settled in and closed his eyes. His throat felt raw and his tongue dry as dust, but he was too tired to care. Within minutes, he fell into a deep sleep.

Heavy rain woke Max just as the first rays of dawn crept into the dome. He fluttered his eyelids and wiped at his damp hair.

"Still alive," he muttered.

Talking hurt his dry throat so he tilted back his head and let the cool water drip into his mouth. When the rains stopped, he felt marginally better, but his body took its turn to complain when he tried to stand. His muscles, sore and stiff, resisted movement and every joint ached. Curling back into a ball, Max just wanted to stay here and sleep.

His stomach growled and Max felt the urge to use the bathroom. He unzipped the suit and pulled it down, then relieved himself by hanging his backside out of the tree. The jungle had reduced him to an animal. Unfortunately, he didn't have their survival instincts.

Where the hell is this place?

Was it a dome on Mars, or Earth? Did Creed have any idea about the hidden airlock door? Was there anyone else in this forsaken place who would help him instead of kill him? Considering what he knew about City 7 and the murderous Creed, it seemed not.

Max stood and stretched, working his muscles to warm them up, then descended the tree. He surveyed the area for dangers, but saw no immediate threats. Creed, no doubt, was tracking him at this very moment, but the thought of running seemed hopeless. Max had to eat and drink. The only place he knew that could offer such amenities was the watering hole.

Creed or not, Max had to find his way back. He had to go on the offensive. The other problem was figuring out where he was. He sighed and looked back up the tree. Even if he climbed to the top, it wasn't tall enough to offer a clear view. There was only one other place higher than the trees—the dome wall.

As long as he kept going in a straight line, he would run into it, but would he be able to climb it? The other option was walking back the way he'd come, but that would raise his chances of running into Creed.

"Think, Max, think!" He could find the wall but which way from there?

A ray of light peeked through the trees and gave him the answer.

The sun rose in the east, just the same as it did in City 7. Max held up a hand toward the light to gauge his position and get his bearings. The airlock lay somewhere behind him to the west. Judging from his position relative to the sunlight, he'd wandered further east during his flight from Creed. For all Max knew, he was all the way across the habitat from the airlock.

Though Max wasn't familiar with the wilderness, he'd overlooked one fact that might help him. In his travels around City 7, Max had discovered a perfect order and logic to its design. Every street was laid out in a neat grid with the exception of the perimeter road which enclosed everything in a circle. Max wondered if the founders had built this habitat with the same logic as City 7.

He imagined the habitat divided into quadrants and pictured his location somewhere in the southeast section. The watering hole lay to the northwest, probably at the very center of the habitat. This section consisted of mud, stagnant water, and cypress trees—quite the change from the southwest section he'd arrived in. It stood to reason that each quadrant in the jungle habitat was fine-tuned to support various wildlife.

Max didn't understand how the caretakers prevented plants and animals from crossing the lines, or if they even cared. He watched the mud behind him slowly ooze back into place, covering his footprints. Of all the places he'd been in this habitat, this swamp was the least inviting, but it might also be the best place to lose Creed.

The ranger was a great tracker and a good shot with a blaster, but he wasn't infallible—not even here. There was no way Max could completely outwit Creed, but all he needed was one mistake. This swamp might offer just such an opportunity. He studied the water, the trees, the floating islands of moss, and an idea began to form.

Before following through, Max needed to cover some necessities. The rain had provided small relief, but he needed more water. Returning to the watering hole was something Creed might anticipate. Max narrowed his eyes and ran through scenarios in his head. What else might the ranger expect from someone inexperienced with this terrain? After all, Creed thought Max was a maintenance worker with no jungle experience. He wasn't far from the mark, but he wasn't spot on, either.

Max thought of several ways to twist his handicaps into advantages. What he imagined was dangerous, but it gave him a chance to survive. He rinsed mud from his hands and gave one last look at the stagnant lake. It was time to do this or die trying.

First up, the watering hole. Max circled southwest to avoid Creed who was probably searching for tracks in the swamp. By mid-morning the wall loomed in sight. Gray concrete towered overhead, standing at least twenty feet higher than the tallest trees. No plants grew in the hard-packed soil at the base of the wall, leaving a perfectly flat path about thirty paces wide, just like the area outside the airlock.

While this made walking easier, it also made it impossible to climb the wall since no trees grew close enough to offer assistance. As Max continued, the swampland thinned, replaced by ferns and towering hardwoods. A small bush held just enough blueberries to make Max long for more, and barely soothed his dry throat.

All the other nearby bushes had already been picked clean. Max kicked the ground in disgust and continued down the path along the featureless gray wall. A few minutes later, the monotony of concrete was broken by a simple black line extending all the way to the top.

Max had seen such lines on the dome walls of City 7, but never given them much thought. In retrospect, it was obvious the marks lined up perfectly with the two primary roads dividing City 7 into quadrants. A wilderness had no roads, but it still bore the cardinal direction markers, meaning Max stood at the southernmost point of the habitat. If his assumption about the watering hole was correct, it lay due north.

Max ran a hand along the line and felt a salt sting in his eye. Knowing precisely where he was filled him with relief. He was starving, thirsty, and hunted, but at least he wasn't completely lost anymore. He'd survived the red wasteland. He would find a way to survive the jungle.

Chapter 26

The sun travelled halfway across the sky by the time Max reached the water. Two crocodiles sunned lazily on the black boulders in the middle, jagged jaws gaping wide. Colorful birds speckled the other boulders and a few of the braver ones darted in and out of the crocodiles' maws, pecking at tidbits caught in their teeth.

Max had done a lot of thinking during the slow, careful march, molding his earlier plan for the dangers ahead and plotting contingencies. He spent a half hour prowling the perimeter of the pond, senses alert for any sign of the ranger. When he felt certain Creed wasn't nearby, Max darted to the water and took long gulps before dashing back to cover.

He watched the birds picking at the crocodiles' teeth, wincing when one of the big lizards suddenly shut its mouth. The birds fluttered away, but returned a moment later when the croc stretched its maw open once again.

It seemed Max and these birds had something in common. If he wanted to survive, he'd have to risk the jaws of the croc.

Max lay in wait until a herd of the straight-horned deer crowded around the pond. Sneaking around the foliage, he came up behind the little beasts and grabbed a young one. A savage twist of its head stopped its bleats, but the alarmed herd dashed in all directions, some of them plunging into the water.

The crocs dove in after an easy meal and birds exploded into the air, a flurry of color and song. Max dashed to the cliff and climbed to the top where he'd left his sharpened rock. He tossed it over the edge and quickly descended the rocky face, then slung his kill across his shoulders and retreated into the jungle to butcher it.

He'd dared the jaws of death and survived.

A blaster bolt whined. The impact slammed into Max's back and knocked him tumbling into a bowl-shaped depression between two trees. He groaned, surprised to be alive. The smoking hole in the deer told the story. The animal had taken the brunt of the blast. Even so, the back of Max's neck burned where the hide hadn't completely blocked the heat.

Max spun on his belly and crawled to the lip of the hollow. He spotted Creed at once, a figure dashing straight for him. The ranger meant to end this hunt now. Max felt a savage grin cross his face. He'd hoped to have a small meal before carrying out his plan, but Creed had found him sooner than expected. It looked like he would have to venture forward on an empty stomach.

Max climbed out of the depression, keeping the tree between him and Creed, then dashed forward in a straight line, looking back every few seconds to adjust his position so the ranger wouldn't have a clear shot. He slowed his pace to catch his breath and let his protesting muscles recover.

Using the sun for guidance, Max headed southeast and whatever destiny waited him there. One way or the other, this hunt would end today.

It was midafternoon when he reached the swamp and took a while to locate the stagnant lake. When Max found the wetland filled with cypress trees, he hoped this was the best place to make his play for survival. The black water was only calf-deep, but his feet sunk another few inches in the soft muck below the surface. Lily pads and islands of moss floated on the murky surface.

Something brushed past Max's calf. A black snake broke the surface of the water and slithered away from the intruder. A shiver ran down Max's spine at what he had to do next, but he had no choice. Live or die, he would do it on his own terms. Creed would not win this day easily.

Steeling himself, Max went behind the tall roots of a thick cypress and lowered himself into the water.

Blaster rifle pressed to his shoulder, the ranger eased through the bushes, his eyes sweeping the area in unison with the muzzle of his weapon. He dropped to a knee and examined two sets of footprints. One led to the water. The other went into the jungle on the right—an obvious decoy. Even someone inexperienced knew that water covers footprints. Crossing the water was the smart choice for someone seeking escape.

But Creed's experience tracking animals, including those living in the swamp gave him knowledge his inexperienced prey had no way of knowing. Running water might have washed away all marks of the intruder's passage, but this stagnant water left more traces than one might imagine. Creed's gaze followed a trail of debris through the floating chunks of peat moss out to the thick roots of a cypress tree.

There, a gathering of lily pads showed a slight bulge anyone without sharp eyesight would have missed. Creed pretended not to have noticed, instead turning to the right, eyes lingering on the trail heading back into the jungle. He'd already tricked this prey once by pretending to follow a false trail, and likely wouldn't fool them again.

This time, however, the intruder thought he was safely hidden from sight beneath the water. Creed mused about the ways he could end this. He could wound the man and finish him at his leisure, or simply shoot him in the head and end it quickly. Rarely did the scientists allow Creed to actually kill anything in the habitat. Most of the time he was tasked to hunt down an animal and tranquilize it, though in this particular instance, he'd been sent to cull the number of wild boars.

Creed almost wished he had his stunner batteries with him. It might be entertaining to stun the man just to let him know he was good as dead, and let him live for a hunt another day. Unfortunately, leaving an unauthorized human loose in the jungle habitat would throw the entire environment into chaos. The scientists would whine, and Creed's professionalism would be cast into doubt. Though he hated ending the game, it was best to give the intruder a quick, merciful death, and leave his body to the swamp.

How this maintenance worker had found his way past security and into the habitat wasn't his concern. Even if he took the man back alive, security would question him and require Creed to do a mountain of paperwork before the inevitable conclusion—a swift execution for the worker. Though it might seem cruel to Creed's prey, this was for the best.

The ranger stood and followed the tracks to the right. When he stepped past the fringe of bushes, out of sight of the man hiding beneath the lily pads, Creed lowered himself to the ground and slowly pushed the muzzle through an opening beneath the leaves. He adjusted the scope and found the lily pad with the bulge of a head beneath it.

Creed eased his finger over the trigger. He tried to resist shouting one last taunt at the man, but finally gave in to the urge. "It was a good show, lad, but now, I'm afraid it's over."

The ranger waited to see if the man burst from the water and tried to run away, but apparently the worker decided to remain still in the hopes Creed thought he'd cornered him in the jungle.

"The lily pad was very clever, but I'm afraid I saw right through it." Creed pulled the trigger. A blast of red streaked across the water and exploded against the lily pads. A clod of peat moss beneath the plant exploded into flames.

"Yeah, it was a good show," said a gruff voice behind him.

Creed rolled onto his back, but before he could bring the rifle to bear, a rock extinguished the light.

Max slammed the rock against Creed's face until the ranger twitched one last time and went still. Panting, Max stared at the brains on the rock, the blood dripping from his hands. He'd sent people out the airlock to feed the father and seen them dropped in the grinder to feed the daughter, but he'd never actually killed a person with his own hands. Max swallowed a lump of nausea and walked away from the body.

Creed had shown how clever he was earlier and laid bare Max's inadequacies. Thankfully, the ranger had continued to underestimate his prey, and Max had taken advantage of it, hiding in the bushes where his false trail led. If Creed had continued to follow the footprints just a few more feet, he would have found Max. Instead, he'd stopped in a place where he'd have a clean shot at the lily pad. Otherwise, it would have been Max lying dead instead of the ranger.

The swamp water rinsed Max's hands and face, but it didn't cleanse the stain he felt on his heart. Despite how his insides twisted, killing Creed was necessary. Kill or be killed. That was the one rule of the jungle he'd learned in his short stay here. With the ranger dead, that put Max on another deadline.

The scientists who sent the ranger into the habitat would eventually declare him missing and send someone looking. The habitat pulsed with dangerous life, hazardous even to someone as skilled as Creed, so it seemed likely a backup ranger existed. The scientists were probably accustomed to the ranger being gone for a day or more, especially if tasked with patrolling the entire habitat. That gave Max perhaps another day or two before he had to worry about a replacement ranger searching for his comrade.

In the meantime, Max had to divine a long-term solution. Though Creed hadn't answered any questions about the existence of other habitats, it seemed likely more existed. This place proved the founders had been thorough in their preservation efforts, and Max had seen dozens of different micro-habitats at the science campus zoo. It stood to reason that this wilderness dome was only the beginning of something much larger.

Once Max found food, it was time to begin a search for more airlock doors. If they were concealed like the one through which he'd entered this place, it would be difficult to spot them.

Max returned to Creed's body and stripped it. The shirt and shorts were a bit snug, but it felt good to peel off the worn feeding suit and change into something marginally cleaner. The shoes were a size too large, but it was better than them being too tight and causing blisters. Creed's backpack was full of useful items—three battery packs for the blaster, an epad, a half-full canteen, and at least a dozen sealed plastic bags labeled as rations. A sheathed knife on the ranger's belt was the best thing Max could have found. Butchering a kill would be so much easier once he ran out of rations.

The charge on the blaster's battery pack indicated it was half full, and one of the batteries in the backpack showed empty. Despite Max's familiarity with the pistol blasters he'd used as constable, handling this long rifle would be different. He held it up to his shoulder as Creed had done and peered through the scope. He might not be an accurate shot, but it felt damned good to be armed again.

Max consumed one of the ration packs—a ham sandwich with potato chips. Every bite flooded his taste buds with ecstasy. Stomach rumbling in appreciation, Max leaned back against a stump and allowed himself to relax while he considered his next moves. It would be dark in a matter of hours, so he needed to find shelter soon.

The epad from the backpack displayed a map when activated. It detailed all four zones of the habitat, complete with precise renderings of the wetlands. Max noticed a small arrow on the screen and realized it was centered on his location. He rotated the epad and the arrow turned to face in that direction. Each zone also bore a small green image of a house near their respective centers.

The closest one was further into the wetlands. Max didn't have to be a genius to realize it must be some sort of shelter. It made sense—a ranger's duties might take him several days and walking all the way back to wherever he came from wouldn't be efficient. A green icon shaped like a door at the northwest end of the habitat piqued Max's interest. It might be the ranger's headquarters where the scientists worked.

Max scanned the map for more icons, but found nothing indicating airlock doors. Creed denied knowledge of City 7 and the airlocks. Did that mean Alderman and his cronies didn't know about this jungle habitat? Were there more domes, each one unknown to the denizens of its neighbors?

It seemed the founders were a tricky bunch.

That posed another problem. What was the end game here? Was there any place safe for Max to go? Anywhere he could live untroubled by overzealous rangers and scientists?

The walk into the red wastes outside City 7 had been only the start of what might be a long trail to death or survival.

Max pushed himself up and dusted his hands before shouldering the backpack and buckling Creed's belt. He took a drink of water from the canteen and fastened it to a loop on the other side of the belt, then slung the blaster rifle over his shoulder. With food and weapons available, it was time to take care of one more unpleasant duty.

Tomorrow he would bury his sister.

Chapter 27

Max followed the map to the shelter marked on the map and found a hut built twenty feet off the ground with four concrete pylons supporting it. Something slick coated the pylons, probably to keep animals from scaling them and getting into the hut. That left the problem of Max actually reaching the small abode.

Two thick green pipes ran up the side of one pylon and into the hut. Max reckoned it might be for water, but it didn't offer an easy climb. He waded through the shallow water beneath the building, sending yet another snake slithering away, and found the answer. A metal rod hung from the foundation. Max gave it a tug. A motor whined and a trap door popped open. A ladder extended down, each section clicking into place until it hung a couple feet off the water.

Max climbed up it and into a tiled room. Pressing a button collapsed the ladder and closed the trap door. A light flickered on overhead. Max looked around and blinked in surprise when he found a shower head against the wall with a tray of soap nearby. He went to the only doorway and found a light switch on the wall. A bed, cabinets, and a small refrigerator sat in the neighboring room.

"It's paradise," he murmured, stunned at this find.

Max approached the sink and rocked back on his heels when he saw his face. Whiskers poked through grime and crusted blood, and leaves and mud covered his head. Rinsing his face in the swamp hadn't done much to remove the veil of filth.

He lathered soap on his face and rinsed until it was clean. A small cabinet held shaving cream and a razor which he gladly used until a smooth face smiled back at him. After a quick hot shower, Max felt human again.

Where are the towels? "Scarlett, grab me a towel—" The rest of the sentence died on Max's lips. "Why in the dome did I call for Scarlett?" A part of him seemed to think it was the most natural thing in the world. Then again, Scarlett had been his deputy. He'd told her to do things plenty of time. Half the time she ignored him.

"Must be the stress," he muttered.

The fridge held more ration packs and dark brown bottles. Max popped the lid off one and took a sip. Cold carbonated water bit into his tongue. The beer tasted so good, Max almost didn't recognize it for what it was. The swill and ale available in City 7 tasted like piss by comparison.

Max took a ration pack labeled Beef Stroganoff from the fridge and tore it open. The plastic heated and steam wafted out. Max almost dug in with his fingers, then stopped himself and looked for utensils. He found a fork in the cabinet next to the fridge and speared it inside the pack. He withdrew a steaming piece of meat dripping with gravy.

Max groaned with pleasure, chewing slowly to savor the taste of cooked meat and chased it with another swig of beer. He felt so happy to be alive right then that it scared him.

"I lost Sarah." The words brought tears to Max's eyes, but it didn't make him feel any less grateful to be alive even if doubt clouded his future. With food in his belly and a safe place to stay for the night, it gave him time to think. "If I could do anything, what would it be?"

Revenge on Alderman and his men would be sweet, but even with a full arsenal of weapons, unlikely to succeed. Continuing to live in the jungle habitat would be impossible once the scientists realized Creed was dead. Max could make it look like an accident and that might keep another ranger from hunting him, but it wouldn't take them long to realize extra food was missing from the shelters, or that someone else had been staying in them.

Max finished the meal then examined the fridge. The appliance appeared ordinary, without any means of receiving meal packs. Max emptied Creed's backpack and counted fifteen plastic packs. At three meals a day, it was enough for five days. But if the ranger stayed in the shelters, he'd have no need of the extra packs.

It stood to reason that the ranger himself restocked the fridges at the various huts. That would make it much harder for Max to remain undetected if indeed there were other rangers who shared Creed's responsibilities. That left Max with few alternatives. He could search for hidden airlock doors and other habitats. By splitting his time between various domes, he could use those shelters for temporary lodging and food.

If the scientists and rangers running the habitats didn't know about their neighbors, that granted Max a higher chance of living out his years without detection. If his assumption about other habitats was correct, it would be something of an adventure, but it would also be a life constantly on the move with no place to call home.

The other option was to find the place the scientists called home and assess their security. It seemed this place had its own complement of maintenance workers, scientists, and marshals to keep it running. Sneaking in would be difficult, depending on the security, but it might be worth investigating.

Max examined the map and calculated the distance from the shelter to the door icon in the northwest. He tapped on the icons at the top of the screen. One of them overlaid a grid on the map, complete with distances. Max counted the squares and came up with a distance of seven miles.

He whistled. "This place must be ten miles in diameter." Max counted the squares from one side to the other and figured the dome wall had to be about thirty miles around. How long did it take to build a concrete wall so long and tall? What feat of engineering did it take to cover the center with a dome?

Max couldn't even begin to imagine. He wished Sarah was here so he could talk to her about it. She'd probably write equations calculating volume and discuss scientific facts Max didn't understand. What he wouldn't give to hear her sweet voice one last time. Instead, he'd left her to rot in the tunnel between domes.

Tomorrow he'd rectify that before searching for more airlock doors.

Max awoke confused and in the dark, the echoes of nightmares still vivid. He'd dreamed of burying Sarah only to have her body dragged away by bears or leopards. When he pursued them, he stumbled upon her half-eaten body. Sarah sat up and spoke to him, skin dangling from her mutilated face.

"You let them kill me, Max!" Tears of blood formed in her eyes. "And now you let them eat me!"

Gray light shone through the lone window in the abode. Max pushed himself out of bed and stared at the fog rising off the murky water. He couldn't bury Sarah in the wild. It was better that he put her back into the red wastes where no animals could eat her, and her body would be preserved.

But with his feeding suit ruined, he had no way of protecting himself from the harsh environment. Sarah's suit would never fit his larger frame. In City 7 where space was limited, burial was almost unheard of since anyone who died was fed to the daughter. Somehow it seemed right to return Sarah to the ground, even though Max couldn't say why.

It was probably because the feeding ritual specifically said, "Return the dead to the soil so others might thrive." It had been hammered relentlessly into Max's head since he was a kid. How many times had Alderman delivered that speech? Too many to count.

Max squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. Sarah was dead. All that was left was the lovely empty shell that had once housed vibrant life. The tunnel between domes was probably as good a resting place as anywhere else. Her corpse would decompose, but it would be safe from animals. Besides, what reason did Max have for ever going that way again?

Killing Alderman, Simmons, Barnes, and the others was fantasy. City 7 was the past. The future was somewhere out here, not back there.

Max wiped the tears from his face. It was time to push on. Sarah was already in her final resting place. He tried to rationalize it further, tried to convince himself Sarah would want him to not waste time going back and burying her, but he didn't know that for sure. In the end, it just didn't matter.

Scarlett watches Sarah leave the house. The door shuts and she turns to Max. "Do you reckon she likes me?"

"What the—" Max ran into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. No matter how hard he tried to tamp it down, the emotional turmoil was making him see things that weren't there. "Guess I'm just crazy," he said. It was better than being dead.

Before leaving the shelter, Max tidied up and put some of the meal packs in the fridge in case another ranger came through here. He shaved his stubble, took another hot shower, and ate a meal pack with pancakes and bacon. It was the most delicious breakfast of his life, but also one of the saddest.

He packed two beers in the backpack and searched the other cabinets in the abode for anything useful. He found a battery charger inside a wall cabinet along with two extra batteries. He put the spent pack on the charger and took the charged ones. A sliding door on the wall hid a closet with several sets of clothes neatly folded. Max noticed immediately that the left side of the closet held clothes matching the size Creed wore, while the others were for a thinner, shorter man.

Max examined the shelves and concluded that since there were two distinct sets of clothes, Creed had a partner. For all he knew, the other man might be on patrol this very moment unless they rotated shifts so only one was in the habitat at a time.

Hopefully, Max would find another airlock door and be on his way before another human entered the equation.

He took another set of Creed's clothes and stuffed them in the backpack then packed the rest of the items. Max held onto the epad to aid with navigation and exited the shelter via the trap door, dropping into the stagnant water below. Now that he was clean, he hated having to get his feet wet again. Thankfully, the boots and socks were made of water-resistant materials that quickly dried once he was back on firm land. They didn't, however, shed the bad smell.

Max oriented himself due east and headed toward the wall, following a narrow strip of dry land running between lakes of murky water. A dozen snakes and two alligators later, he reached his destination, though he was probably a mile south of the black line indicating the precise eastern point.

During breakfast he'd decided to go south from here, circling around to the first airlock and staying overnight in the southwest shelter. Just as it had been near the wall further south, a barren strip of hard earth separated the wall from vegetation and water. It would make the going much easier.

Glancing at the map, he noticed a blinking icon in the upper right corner and touched it. A message appeared: Please report in. Yancy's getting anxious. P.S. How's the boar killing?

Sweat broke out on Max's forehead. Unless he replied, he might have even less time than he'd thought. He hit Reply and tapped out a message. Everything is fine. Be back tomorrow.

Max thought about the way Creed talked and wondered if that was what the man's response would be. He deleted the message, typed in another and erased it. "Fuck!" How was he supposed to respond?

Creed hadn't said much to Max, but he'd seemed like the sort of man who felt in control most of the time. The fact that he'd instantly tried to kill Max and then hunted him showed that Creed felt he had the authority to do whatever he wanted. Yancy was probably a scientist—someone who irritated the likes of Creed and the other ranger, which made it likely this message was from Creed's counterpart.

Max bit his lip, then took a gamble. Tell Yancy to relax. All is well. Back tomorrow or the day after.

The reply came seconds later. Admit it. You're having the time of your life. Better you than me.

You know I like to hunt, Max replied.

Just don't make the boars extinct. I'll tranquilize Yancy for you. See you when you get back.

Max blew out a long sigh. Apparently the other ranger bought the deception, granting him a little more time. He spent a few minutes looking through the other icons on the map and found a list of tasks.

Examine Babar's left hind leg for injury.

Locate Panthra, evaluate well-being.

Cull thirty boars, shoats first, adults last.

The first two items were crossed out. Creed had apparently never started on the boar culling. Instead, he'd switched to making Max extinct.

Another icon brought up a bestiary filled with facts about animals. The index boasted thousands of entries. The information would be very useful in the travels ahead.

Max tucked the epad into a pocket on the backpack and focused on the next task—finding more airlocks, should they exist. Searching thirty miles of wall seemed insurmountable, but so had crossing the red wastes and defeating an armed ranger. As Max remembered it, the control panel for the airlock leading back to City 7 had been about chest high, so he pressed his hands to the wall in that general vicinity and began the search.

By using both hands to press the wall as he walked, he made slow but steady progress, thankful to have the flat perimeter path to walk instead of muddy swamp water. By noon he was nearly to the black line indicating the southern point of the dome. He ate a quick lunch from one of the meal packs and was preparing to resume his journey when he heard blaster fire whining through the trees. A brilliant red flash exploded a hundred yards to the north in a stand of hardwoods. Max dropped to the ground.

His ruse with the messages hadn't worked. The other ranger had come looking and already found him.

Chapter 28

Max growled and pounded the dirt with a fist. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?

Crimson lasers zipped through the trees, exploding against bark and bare dirt. The swamp had receded half a mile ago, giving way to tall trees and a jungle floor carpeted with leaves and ankle-high ferns, granting a view obstructed only by the thick tree trunks.

After a few more seconds of seemingly random blaster fire, Max began to realize whoever it was wasn't after him unless they were a terrible shot.

An inhuman scream filled the air followed by an all-too-human shriek.

Max didn't know what in the hell was going on, but decided to find out. Using the trees as cover from the random blaster bolts, he made his way into the jungle.

Something huge exploded from behind a tree and knocked him over. Max rolled to his stomach and looked up into the golden eyes of his first nemesis, Patch. This time, the big cat didn't seem so eager to eat him. Instead of advancing, it backed away, muzzle peeled back in a snarl.

A smoking black streak ran down the hide on its left flank where a blaster bolt had grazed it. Max pulled Creed's knife from its sheath and slowly rose to his knees.

"Easy now," he said in a soothing voice. "Why don't you just run away, Patch, and we'll finish this another day?"

The leopard's muscles coiled, as if preparing to pounce. Max tried to unsling the blaster rifle from his back, but the steady rumbling in Patch's throat grew louder.

Max prayed that whoever shot the leopard wasn't coming up behind him right now. For all he knew, it was a scientist who'd come looking for Creed only to find a leopard that wanted to eat him for dinner.

Patch prowled closer, the growl rising in his throat.

"Fine, you want to finish this now?" Max snarled and brandished the knife. "Come get me, you bastard! I reckon I'll cut you to pieces before you kill me."

The leopard lunged forward. Max dodged to the side just in the nick of time. He spun and tried to stab the leopard's flank, but the big cat was too fast and twisted around. Patch slammed into Max, but he jabbed the knife forward and felt it stab into bone. The hilt jammed his hand and he lost his grip before rolling over backwards and losing the blaster rifle off his back.

Patch screamed and leapt away, blood trickling from a cut on its chest, but the cat wasn't done. Max spotted the knife on the ground between him and the enraged leopard. There was no way he'd get it in time. The rifle was just a few feet away as well. They both might as well have been a mile distant for all the good it did him.

The trees were too thick to climb here. His only chance was to run and come back for the weapons later.

He heard a groan and then blaster bolts exploded all around him. Patch roared and dashed away in a blur.

"Turn around, now," said a commanding voice.

Max gritted his teeth. He'd just traded one death for another. He put his hands in the air and slowly turned around. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open with horror when he faced the attacker.

Chapter 29

The Past

Protestors lined the streets outside City Hall, waving their signs and chanting the same mantra over and over again. "We say no! The mayor must go!"

"Your poll numbers dropped another three points." Rick Connelly dabbed sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "We should rethink your strategy, sir. I have some ideas how we can repackage this and save face."

The mayor squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will not back down from these illiterate thugs."

"The unions see your reforms as direct attacks on them," Rick said.

"I gave teachers a choice," the mayor said. "Corporate wages for shedding the bureaucracy. I offered them a golden age of education."

"The unions think it will usher in the dark ages." Rick shook his head. "Sir, we both know your reforms are the right thing to do, the problem is, they aren't politically feasible."

It seemed every union in the city had bussed protestors into town. Garbage trucks blocked intersections and people clogged the roads. Even religious leaders from both sides of the aisle held their own signs. Keep God In School!

A growl rose in the mayor's throat. "I'm sick of politics, Rick. It's time we stopped pandering to the unions, business leaders and anyone else who thinks they own the government."

Rick patted his forehead with the damp handkerchief. "I understand, but you need political support."

The mayor slammed a fist on the desk. "To hell with political support! Do you know why we have crime? Do you know what breeds street thugs, extremism and terrorists?"

"Socioeconomic stagnation, poverty—"

The mayor waved slashed a hand through the air. "You're talking symptoms, Rick. The root cause is ignorance. We don't educate people anymore. We give them free babysitters and throw test after test in their face without teaching them any real-world skills. We're not reforming education here, we're transforming it." He scowled at the thousands gathered outside. "None of them understand what I'm doing. They just want to wallow in their own ignorance. Nobody wants to work for the future."

"You're changing things too quickly." Rick loosened his tie and collar and fanned his red face. "Please, sir, I'm begging you. Let's slow this down before it derails."

"By that time I'll be out of office." The mayor shook his head. "Take out bureaucracy, take out religion, pay the teachers corporate wages and treat them like professionals. It all works together, Rick. Once we open the new academies, New York will rise to the top of the world in science and technology. We won't be importing our brains from overseas. We'll ensure the future of the human race."

"But it goes against the unions, against organized religion, sir. Even the corporate community thinks it's a waste of money."

"Because they want to profit off education!"

Rick pressed a hand to his chest and took a deep breath. "You can't change human nature overnight."

Someone rapped hard on the door. Rick opened it and a pale-faced Patricia Morgan stepped inside. She whispered in Rick's ear.

"Enough!" The mayor stepped across the room. "What's the word?"

Patricia swallowed hard. "Sir, they have enough signatures for a recall vote. Barry Smith is demanding a meeting. He said if we don't go with the coalition's demands, he'll take the petition to the election commission and push for the recall."

"To hell with him." The mayor clenched his fists. Backing down meant losing everything he'd worked for. He'd spent two years building political capital with the city council, with the board of education, and with teachers. He'd even had the support of the people until organized religion stepped in and worked the ignorant masses into a lather about removing God from schools.

The world wasn't ready for change.

"Sir, I think we should listen to what he has to say." Rick clasped his hands together in front of his chest as if in prayer. "Please listen to me. We need to do something if you want to stay in office."

"Do you think I resigned as CEO of my company and ran for office so I could be the puppet of fear-mongering fools?" The mayor said. "I will not back down just to stay in office."

Tears trickled down Patricia's cheeks. "You're a good person, sir."

"Everyone clear out," the mayor said. "I need time to think. Tell my secretary I don't want to be disturbed."

Rick motioned Patricia through the door and stopped on his way out. "For what it's worth, sir, I believe in what you're trying to do. Realistically, I think it's over for now." He looked down and closed the door.

The mayor sat in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin and watched the raucous crowd below. The door clicked open and shut behind him. "I said not to disturb me." He turned, expecting to see his secretary there. Instead, a woman in a black suit stood just inside the door.

"Who the hell are you?" the mayor asked.

"You have proven yourself a worthy candidate," the woman said. She stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Mayor Alderman, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Answer the question," he said coldly.

She lowered her hand. "What if you had the power to implement any policy you wanted without political interference?"

"Where?" he scoffed. "In a third-world country? I don't think so."

"Mayor, I represent a consortium of power people who are sick and tired of the way the world works." She removed a laptop. "For decades, they've been working on a solution. Now we're just recruiting the right people."

Alderman stared at her, unsure if this was a trick, or if someone mentally unstable had slipped past his people. "I'll ask you one more time before I have you thrown out. Who are you?"

The laptop screen flickered on. She turned on a program and suddenly the faces of people filled it—men and women he recognized from the news. It took a moment to register that they were talking.

"Is this live?" Alderman asked.

"Hello, Mayor," one man said. "I'm glad you've decided to hear our proposal."

Alderman's throat went dry. "Yes, of course, Mr. Musk."

The billionaire smiled. "Just call me Edward."

Present Day

Terrence Alderman stood on the narrow bridge leading from Overlook to the top of the dome wall, a stiff breeze making his eyes water. The best and the brightest minds worked on the science campus far below, the fruits of his dedication to education. He'd once thought that educating everyone equally was the answer to the problems vexing humanity. Unfortunately, when everyone had access to equal education, only the morons were left to do the menial work still required by a functioning society.

Until robotics were perfected, humans were still required for maintenance. Society still needed cogs in the machine, an infrastructure to support the higher functions, just as the brain needed the heart and lungs. Everything had to work together so the brain could find ways to improve conditions for the body.

So far, this socioeconomic model worked the best, even if it increased the statistical chances of an insurgency. Alderman was doing the best he could with what he'd been given, but it seemed apparent that humanity was poor clay from which to mold perfection. Once formed into even the finest of vessels, cracks soon formed until they fell apart. People had the inherent tendency to do more harm than good. They destroyed themselves.

Just as Richard Barnes had done.

Alderman's own trusted second had tried to cause a revolt. In retrospect, his motives seemed clear—wipe away humanity. Instead, Scarlett Flynn had ended him before throwing herself out of the airlock and into the merciless arms of Mars. Both problems had solved themselves, but there was still the aftermath to deal with.

It was impossible not to compare this situation to what had happened before. It seemed City 7 would not stand the test of time without serious adjustments.

Alderman checked the time. Simmons was running late.

He walked across the bridge where the dome met the top of the wall. The translucent solar glass blurred the view except in one small place. Alderman cupped his hands around his forehead and pressed them to the glass. Far in the distance across the dusty red plains rose another sparkling dome.

Utopia. The Promised Land.

One day he would make this work and lead his advanced society across the plains to their new home. Founder Musk had promised him. City 7 was just a manmade purgatory, an incubator for perfection.

Alderman envisioned blue skies instead of dreary green and a verdant landscape instead of red. Someday even the domes would no longer be necessary, but he would be long dead by that glorious day.

"Dreaming again?"

Alderman contained the reflex to flinch in surprise. "Took your time getting here, Oswald." He turned around slowly.

"I had to stage an accident for Deputy Flynn." Simmons stepped up to the window and peered outside. "We can't have everyone knowing she exited the airlock of her own accord."

"Your marshals know to keep their mouths shut, I hope."

"Of course." Simmons sighed. "Do you suppose we'll make it over there in our lifetime?"

Alderman stiffened. "Of course. We need to smooth out the societal substrata until wrinkles like Planck and Flynn don't exist."

The investigator pulled away from the glass and turned around. "As of today, they don't exist anymore. Flynn might have a few hours' worth of oxygen, but she'll be dead soon enough."

"Maybe we should send someone out to retrieve the bodies," Alderman said. "I don't like knowing they made it out of sight."

Another figure left Overlook and strode across the bridge. Gavin Kearns raised a disapproving eyebrow. "How many times must I tell you not to look to the future when the present needs attention?"

Alderman ignored the mantra. "Who do we have to replace Barnes?"

Kearns scoffed. "The man is irreplaceable, but I suppose we'll have to promote someone."

"Fucking mankind." Simmons glared at the land below. "Maybe Barnes was right."

"Starting over again is not an option," Kearns said. "At this rate, we'll all be dead before making significant progress."

Simmons barked a laugh. "I'm not talking about starting over." He spat over the side of the bridge. "I think it's time we flush humanity down the toilet of bad ideas."

Alderman looked into the eyes of one of the few people he called friend and saw absolute conviction and sincerity. It was enough to make his own resolve waver. Maybe Oswald was right. Maybe humanity was too deeply flawed.

Maybe it was time to end it all.

Chapter 30

The airlock door clicked closed behind Scarlett Flynn and air hissed into the room. She knelt next to Sarah Planck. The perfect stillness of the woman left little doubt in Scarlett's mind that she was dead.

"Max Planck, you son of a bitch." Scarlett banged a fist against the padded wall. "Looks like you kept that air I gave you all to yourself." Just when she started to feel like he might deserve a second chance, he proved he didn't give a damn about anyone but himself.

Had Sarah had known about this airlock door? The toughsuit Max stole for her made more sense now, but those plans had fallen apart when Scarlett found the toughsuit and reported Max. In the end, Sarah must have told Max about this place, and the fool man thought he could carry his sister inside before she suffocated. All he had to do was share the micro-breather with Sarah for a few seconds and they'd both be alive.

Apparently, Max had left his sister to rot in the airlock.

Scarlett hadn't known Sarah very well, but despite being a scientist, Sarah had been very nice the few times they'd met. She didn't deserve to decompose in here. Scarlett punched the button and the door slid back open. She dragged the body out into the red sands and put Sarah into a respectful repose, arms crossed across her chest. The cold would preserve her unless and until the day Mars breathed warm air.

"Sarah Planck, I reckon I didn't know you too well, but you deserved better than this. I don't know what you did to commit treason, but I'd bet it was something brave." Scarlett secured the protective facemask over the dead woman to keep dust out. "I wish your brother wasn't such a worthless coward and hadn't left you to rot. I hope you find peace." Scarlett wasn't sure what more she could say, especially since she had nothing good to say about Max.

Scarlett retrieved her duffel bag and bladewheel where she'd dropped them earlier before heading back inside the airlock and sealing it. Instead of removing the bubble helmet, she went to the second door and hit the button to open it. Scarlett frowned in confusion when lights flickered on to reveal a tunnel vanishing into darkness. Despite her misgivings, she removed the bubble helmet and was relieved to find breathable air.

Scarlett's legs suddenly felt weak and she leaned against the wall for support. Even though it was well staged, the red wasteland outside the airlock was not the real surface of Mars at all, but a huge room designed to kill anyone sent inside. Simmons would soon find out that Scarlett entered the kill room with protective gear and he'd send someone after her, giving her no choice but to continue down this tunnel to whatever lay at the end.

For all she knew, something even worse waited ahead, maybe even the real outside. Scarlett pushed off the wall and paced into the tunnel. Lights blinked on ahead for every step she took, revealing a sharp turn to the east. She closed her eyes and envisioned City 7, its airlock precisely to the north, and just outside it, the large kill room with a tunnel leading eastward. The founders had disguised the kill room for a reason—to hide the tunnel on the other side though they hadn't done anything to hide the doors.

The room was too large to traverse without oxygen, so no one had ever come close to unveiling the secret. Even if victims had realized they weren't on the real outside, they had no way of telling anyone on the inside. Max had made it over the red dunes hiding the airlock. Alderman must have guessed the man had oxygen since nobody could make it that far on their own. Even at a quick pace, it took several minutes to reach the dunes, and nobody could hold their breath that long.

Alderman should have sent someone after Max immediately if he suspected the former constable made it to the hidden airlock, but Scarlett had seen no signs of pursuit. The only footprints had been those of Max's. That line of deduction led to two possibilities: Alderman didn't care if anyone found the airlock, or he didn't know about the airlock.

What if the founders designed the room to hide a simple truth from everyone—that there was far more on Mars than just City 7?

If Alderman and his cronies didn't know the truth, they likely assumed Max had run out of oxygen and died and that Scarlett would soon suffer the same fate. Though they could send someone out in a toughsuit to verify this, it seemed unlikely they would—she hoped.

Scarlett unzipped her duffel bag and retrieved a blaster. If Alderman sent anyone after her, she'd be ready. For now, she was mighty curious to see what was on the other end of this tunnel. After stuffing the bubble helmet into the duffel and strapping it on her back, she awkwardly mounted the bladewheel and directed it around the eastern turn in the tunnel.

The tunnel seemed endless, especially since the lights only granted vision a few yards ahead and behind, keeping the terminus hidden by dark. The airlock door at the end came as a sudden surprise and Scarlett fell off the bladewheel in her clumsy attempt to stop before ramming into it.

She landed on her back atop the duffel bag and dropped the blaster carried in her hand. It took a moment to untangle herself from the strap and stand up in the bulky suit. After putting on the bubble helmet, Scarlett hit the button and the door slid open to reveal the airlock. She closed the door behind her and readied herself for emergency action, depending on what lay on the outside of the next door.

The door slid open to darkness filled with the sounds of insects and animals. The light from the airlock extended only a few feet outside, revealing a flat patch of earth. Scarlett tentatively stepped outside and looked around, but there wasn't much to see in the pitch black. A glance up proved her wrong. Stars covered the sky in a never-ending blanket of twinkling light. For a moment, she lost herself in the sky until the truth occurred to her.

There was no dome overhead—nothing but the clear night sky. That meant she was on the true outside. Scarlett gasped and fumbled with the bubble helmet. When she yanked it off, humid air flowed against her face. Scarlett took a deep breath of warm air and instantly felt invigorated. The air outside seemed richer and cleaner.

"It all makes sense," Scarlett muttered. The founders already terraformed Mars. If Alderman knew, that meant he was just keeping people in City 7 so he could stay in power. Naturally, he wouldn't send anyone after Scarlett or Max because the outside world presented a boundless place to hide from any pursuers.

Scarlett had been to the zoo enough times to realize she'd face new dangers in the outside world, and she certainly didn't want to test her luck by venturing into the dark. Spending the night in the airlock or the tunnel seemed the best idea.

She stargazed for a while longer until a loud roar sent her scampering back inside and pounding the button to close the airlock before whatever it was lunged inside and got her.

Dinner consisted of fruit and ham she'd scavenged from Joseph Britain's refrigerator, and bottled water. When she finished eating, she curled up in a corner and tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she imagined armed men in toughsuits surprising her in the airlock and blasting her while she slept. Alderman might have reckoned that Scarlett wouldn't want to spend her first night out in the wilds of Mars and sent someone to kill her before her escape.

On the other hand, that seemed unlikely because it meant revealing the secret to Alderman's thugs. Then again, Simmons might be happy as a bee to pursue and finish her off. It created quite the conundrum because Scarlett sure as hell didn't feel confident about surviving the night in the strange new world on the other side of the airlock. Without refuge, she'd be an open invitation to dinner for any nearby predators.

Unfortunately, the airlock didn't offer a locking mechanism to keep people out, so she'd just have to stay awake and vigilant. If the inner door began to open, she'd have enough time to open the outer door and make a run for it.

Scarlett hunkered down next to the button for the outer door and set a blaster on the floor next to her. If anyone tried to open that door, they'd be good as dead. She almost hoped Simmons came after her. It would be a nice treat to shoot his feet while the door slid open. She leaned her head back against the padded wall and waited.

One hour passed and then another and Scarlett tried talking to herself to stay awake.

"Come and get me, Simmons." She picked up the blaster and checked the battery pack. "I almost hope you show up so I can get rid of one more black-hearted son of a bitch." If anyone showed up, they wouldn't take her by surprise.

Scarlett woke up some hours later, neck stiff and a stream of drool hanging from her mouth. "Damn it!" She pounded a fist on the floor and stood up. "Guess I'd better thank my lucky stars Simmons didn't come or I'd be dead."

Disgusted as she was with her inability to stand guard all night, she consoled herself with the fact that she'd at least gotten some sleep. She'd need it for the outside world.

After breakfast, she repacked the duffel bag, placing the bubble helmet and food inside. She'd brought a change of clothes, but decided to keep on the toughsuit just in case she needed the extra protection. Being hot and uncomfortable was preferable to being quickly disemboweled by a predator's claws.

Scarlett opened the airlock door. Humid air filled her lungs and a wondrous green landscape filled her view. Alien sounds buzzed in her ears, as if all the creatures of the forest decided to talk at the same time. Massive trees reached into the skies; every inch of ground was covered in a verdant carpet of ferns and bushes. It was almost too much for her senses to handle.

"My new home," she murmured, excitement and fear taking equal turns lifting and quelling her expectations. This life would be completely different to anything she'd ever experienced. This alien landscape could kill her in a heartbeat if she let her guard down.

Scarlett took a deep breath and got down to business. She had enough food and water to last two days which meant finding new sources of sustenance would be a top priority. Her best bet would be to continue in a straight line until she found water. She had empty water bottles she could refill. A forest with this much plant life was also likely to have berries and other fruits, provided the wildlife hadn't eaten it.

The time she'd spent gazing at the strange animals in the science campus zoo gave her some idea what to expect out here. This environment closely resembled the jungle display which meant large predatory cats, snakes, and bears were possibilities. The terrain would be too rough for the bladewheel to handle, so it might be best to leave the extra weight behind. Once the battery charge ran out, it would be useless anyway.

Scarlett turned to set the bladewheel back inside the airlock and stopped in surprise. In the darkness last night she hadn't seen the towering gray wall running as far as she could see in either direction or the smooth path paralleling its base. She kicked at what looked like hard-packed dirt beneath her feet, but her attempts barely scuffed it.

Why was there a wall at the end of the tunnel from City 7? She pressed a gloved hand against the concrete as if to confirm it was really there. A wall this massive wasn't necessary unless...Scarlett leaned against the wall and looked straight up. At first, the sky looked perfectly clear as she imagined it must on the outside, but the sunlight glinted off a transparent surface and gave her the answer she dreaded.

This wasn't the outside. She'd found another dome.

The bladewheel dropped from her hand and the duffel bag weighed even heavier on her back. There was no outside to escape to. If this habitat existed, there were probably others—all part of the founders' plans to preserve Earth life on Mars.

Scarlett would never know a day of life that wasn't beneath a dome.

A tear trickled down her cheek but she angrily wiped it away. "What are you crying about, you little fool? You're alive, aren't you?" She jerked on the duffel strap and marched forward to the edge of the border path. "I survived City 7, and I'll survive this place."

Scarlett stepped forward and stopped, turned back to the airlock. It wouldn't do to leave it open and let animals inside. She punched the button on the control panel. Concrete slid down to conceal the panel and the airlock door slid into place, leaving no sign it existed.

Scarlett frowned. Why in the dome would the founders want to keep this door concealed when the one outside City 7 was visible plain as day? The animals certainly wouldn't know the difference between a door and a wall. She noticed a thin black line running straight up the wall where the door had been.

"That's mighty odd." She looked up and down the wall but didn't see any other black lines. She reckoned it was how the founders marked the hidden doors so they could find them later. They probably had a good reason for hiding the doors. Scarlett bit her lower lip and came up with one good reason—what if there were other humans here?

Just like City 7 had a forest, maybe this was another city but with a jungle around it.

Scarlett clutched the blaster tight. What if she'd just found another dome with its own Alderman and Simmons? The thought so preoccupied her that she almost didn't see the creature with a tan hide covered in black spots slinking closer to her. Golden eyes glittered as they found their next meal.

Her knees went weak and her bowels tried to let go. Scarlett screamed and fired the blaster. The bolts whined wide of the target, catching a small bush on fire. The huge cat—a leopard—leapt back and roared.

With the airlock closed, Scarlett had no choice but to run. The duffel bag slowed her considerably so she flipped the strap over her head, let it drop, and ran. In her panic, she abandoned the trail and ran into the jungle, the heavy boots of the toughsuit clomping against the soil and tiring her legs quickly. A snarl from behind lent her fresh energy and she pushed ahead.

The bushes thinned into a carpet of short ferns. Dangling vines smacked Scarlett in the face as she dodged around trees and rutted earth. A flash of tan and white fur appeared from behind a tree ahead and the leopard peeled back its muzzle to reveal rows of sharp teeth.

Scarlett realized she heard the sound in stereo and looked back to see the first leopard crouching behind her. She was trapped.

Chapter 31

The other cat looked larger, with a patch of white on its forehead. A sound like a saw on wood grated through its throat. With a vicious snarl, the bigger cat streaked toward the other one. Claws flashed and fur flew.

Fascinated as she was by the spectacle, Scarlett came to her senses and ran. She tripped over roots and crashed through foliage. Spider webs clung to her face and smaller animals fled when she tromped past. She ran until she could run no further and collapsed at the base of a tree. A glance back told her she'd run all this way for nothing. The leopard with the patch prowled her way.

She checked the blaster battery pack. At half full, it held plenty of shots, provided she could land one. Arms trembling, she stood and raised the weapon. The leopard crouched and observed from thirty yards away—too far for Scarlett's poor aim. She waited, hoping the cat would leave, but it reached a different decision and burst forward.

Scarlett shrieked and pulled the trigger. Blaster bolts splashed wide of the target. Undeterred by the noise, the leopard lunged the final few yards. A bolt grazed the beast's left side. It screamed in pain and tumbled along the ground. Scarlett fired again. Dirt exploded into the air and the leopard finally gave up and dashed out of sight.

She leaned against an oak, sobbing as the adrenalin faded and left her weak. A human voice shouting caught her attention. Scarlett staggered toward the sound of a leopard snarling and a man shouting. When she came around the tree, she saw the leopard slam into a man. Blood dripped from a wound in the cat's chest, but it seemed determined to kill the man.

Scarlett unleashed a flurry of sizzling red energy and the leopard finally gave up, dashing away into the jungle. The man was safe, but he might attack her the minute he realized she wasn't from this dome. His back faced her so she couldn't tell if he had another weapon.

"Turn around slowly," she commanded. The blaster nearly fell from her hand when she saw his face.

Max Planck looked nearly as shocked to see her as she did him. "Scarlett?" His eyes seemed to go blank for a moment. Max shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Going crazy," he muttered.

Scarlett steadied the blaster. It was one thing to know Max survived, but something entirely different to see him alive and mostly well. He wore shorts, boots, and even looked cleanly shaved. This was the man who'd sent her best friend in the world, her brother, to die. The man who'd betrayed his oath of office and turned into Alderman's lapdog, who killed his own sister.

People told her he'd done good, that they were grateful to have Constable Planck. Maybe he'd helped others, but he hadn't lifted a finger to save Nathan.

"You gonna pull that trigger, Scarlett?" Max wiped sweat off his forehead. "You think killing me will make up for Nathan?"

Her throat went dry. "Nothing will make up for that, Max, but burning a hole through you might make me feel a little better."

Max stiffened. "If ending me gives you a little bit of peace, then do it." He folded his arms. "There's an epad with a map in my backpack, and some meal packs. I don't think you'll want to stay in this place long, though, because another ranger will probably come looking for the one I killed."

Scarlett blinked. "Ranger? Killed?"

"A lot's happened since Alderman sent me to feed." Max nodded at the blaster. "Well?"

Killing Max might make Scarlett feel a little better in the short term, but it would probably prove fatal in the long run. In the little time he'd been in this jungle, it sounded like he'd managed to discover a lot. Scarlett wanted answers and a way to survive. For now, she'd let Planck live.

She lowered the blaster. "I won't blast you now, but I might change my mind later."

Max stared at her quietly for a moment then nodded. "Well, at least you aren't so bullheaded you won't listen to reason."

"I'll always listen to reason, you big fool." Scarlett blew out a breath. "Now, tell me about this ranger."

"Have you eaten?"

She narrowed her eyes and nodded. "I brought food."

"Before I tell my story, I'd like to know what in the dome you're doing over here, Scarlett." Max bent down and retrieved a blaster with an absurdly long barrel. He slung it over a shoulder and straightened. "And why are you wearing a blue scientist toughsuit?"

"I reckon we both have stories to tell," Scarlett said. She fanned her face, but it didn't do any good in the humidity.

Max took out an epad and flicked his fingers on the screen. "There's a shelter nearby. It'll be a safe place to rest and recover." He looked her up and down. "Plus, you might want to change clothes before you melt in that toughsuit."

Scarlett felt a little dizzy. "Okay, but first we need to get my duffel bag."

"Where is it?"

She frowned and tried to remember which direction she'd come from. "It's near the airlock."

Max nodded and motioned her to follow. "This way."

He led the way without a word and they arrived back at the wall a few minutes later. The duffel bag sat where Scarlett had left it. Max knelt to unzip it, but Scarlett quickly grabbed the handle and shook her head.

"This is mine." She pried his fingers off the zipper. "I don't want you digging through it."

Max shrugged. "Fine, Scarlett, but I don't care about seeing your spare underwear or stealing your food."

Scarlett brandished the blaster. "I don't care what you say."

He sighed and pointed toward the wall. "You closed the airlock door, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it's right there." She pointed toward the black line.

Max's eyes flickered with surprise. "I didn't even think about that." He rushed to the wall and began pressing his hand along it about chest high until a small section slid back to reveal the door control panel.

"Didn't think about what?" Scarlett asked.

He waved a hand toward the line. "I figured these were just to mark cardinal directions, but I'll bet they also mark where the other hidden airlock doors are."

"Other doors?" Scarlett's forehead pinched. "You think there's more of these?"

Max nodded. "I'd bet there's other habitats too." He pressed the close button and the section of concrete lowered to conceal the panel again. "Come on." He tromped through the jungle as if he knew where he was going, talking along the way. "You remember all the micro-habitats at the science zoo?"

"Of course." She walked faster to catch up.

"Deserts, forests, oceans—all sorts of environments." Max looked up at the trees, a wondering expression on his face. "I'd bet there are airlocks leading to different habitats. The founders didn't just save humans, they preserved other life from Earth."

"When I first stepped in here, I thought they'd already terraformed Mars and that I was outside." Scarlett tried to imagine an ocean habitat, salt water as far as the eye could see.

"I thought we were on Earth." Max pointed up toward the gray wall barely visible through the thick trees. "I want to climb to the top and see what the outside really looks like."

"How in the dome do you expect to climb that thing?" The surface was smooth and polished just like the wall in City 7.

"I need to find a tree tall enough." He turned and pointed. "Up to the northwest are the tallest trees. I think we'll have the best luck there, but first we need to discuss what we're up against."

Scarlett didn't like the ominous tone in his voice. "You must mean the ranger you mentioned."

Max pushed through a thicket of broad-leafed bushes and looked up. Four thick poles disguised like trees held up a small wooden house. "We're here."

Scarlett touched one of the poles and discovered it was metal covered with something slick. "Why is there a house up there, Max?"

"To keep the animals out." He pulled on a rod beneath the house. A trap door opened and a ladder extended from it. Max motioned her up. "After you."

Scarlett paused a moment before accepting his invitation. She unslung the duffel and wrestled it up the ladder ahead of her.

Max sighed. "Can I help you with that?"

She grudgingly nodded and handed it to him. "Don't open it." Scarlett climbed the ladder and emerged in a dim room. Lights flickered on to reveal a tiled bathroom complete with shower. The top of the duffel bag poked through the door.

"Take it," Max said. "This thing's heavy."

She pulled it up inside. Max poked his blaster through once she cleared the way and then joined her inside. He pressed a button. The ladder retracted and the door swung shut.

Scarlett poked around in the bathroom then walked through the only doorway and into a room with a kitchen and bedroom. "Looks cozy."

Max set his gun down and nodded. "The rangers use them while they're out in the field so they don't have to return to their headquarters every day." He walked over to a door and slid it open to reveal clothing. "Might be something in here that'll fit you."

"I brought clothing." She sat in a chair next to a small table.

"If it's a standard uniform, you'll get hot in this environment."

She didn't have much of her own, just some clothes she'd borrowed from Joseph Britain's closet, so she got up and poked around in the closet. One set of clothes looked too large, but the other looked about the right size. "There are only two sizes of clothing in here," Scarlett said. "I reckon that means there's only two rangers?"

"One now," Max said. He opened the refrigerator and removed a brown bottle, held it out to her. "Want a beer?"

"I don't care for swill."

"You'll like this." He motioned it toward her again. "Give it a try."

Scarlett took it reluctantly and popped off the metal lid. The first sip sent tingles down her throat. She sniffed the top. "This isn't swill."

"I guess they get the good stuff here," Max said. He opened one for himself and took a deep gulp. "Well, are you going to tell me what happened to bring you out here?"

Scarlett reckoned it didn't matter who told their story first, so she nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. "First of all, can you believe they kept me as deputy and made Dominic Barnes constable?"

Max spat on the floor. "Dominic was supposed to be my deputy when I took over as constable, but I convinced Alderman that you were the best person for the job."

A flush of surprise raced up Scarlett's face. "You didn't even know me."

"I saw your aptitude scores and I knew you gave a damn about doing your job." He grimaced. "Dominic would've been a nightmare—hell, he already caused plenty of trouble whenever he was around. Giving him that much authority is just asking to piss off the civvies even more than they already are."

In retrospect, Scarlett knew why Barnes wanted his son, Dominic to be the constable. It all fit nicely with his desire to cause an insurgency. "Well, I reckon it'll make perfect sense to you once you hear my story."

Max took a swig of beer. "I'm all ears."

Scarlett cut straight to the important part. "Someone murdered a lab coat named Joseph Britain and left the body in the steamworks."

Wrinkles furrowed Max's brow. "Sarah told me about him. He was in charge of population control or something like that." He winced when he said his sister's name.

Scarlett nearly lit into him about how he'd left his sister to rot in the airlock, but a tear at the corner of his eye quenched her anger. The man was in pain. Maybe he'd meant to go back and do something with her body. For now, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt. "I put Sarah back outside to preserve the body."

Max squeezed his eyes shut and looked down. "Thank you, Scarlett."

She almost reached out a hand to comfort him, but stopped herself. He let Nathan die. Don't feel sorry for the puppet constable. Scarlett steeled her resolve not to like Max and continued the story. "During my investigation, steamworkers in toughsuits took me prisoner with every intent to kill me."

Max leaned forward. "Who were they?"

Scarlett shrugged. "They covered their faces so I couldn't see. I escaped and ran into Simmons near the tunnel leading to the science campus. We barely escaped with our lives."

He scowled. "Too bad Simmons made it out."

"Can't disagree with you there." Scarlett took another draw from the bottle. "Simmons took me to Overlook where he met with Alderman and Kearns to discuss options for handling what appeared to be an insurgency."

Max nearly dropped his beer. "You're telling me there's armed resistance in City 7?"

"More like a small group of idiots," Scarlett said. "Simmons sent me back out to hunt them down even though he knew they'd probably kill me." Her chest tightened with anger. "I asked him for a safe place to stay and he put me in Britain's house on the science campus."

"Sick son of a bitch." Max pounded a fist on the table. "I'd like to drag him and Barnes kicking and screaming out of the airlock."

Scarlett frowned. She'd never seen Max so fired up or heard him speak such treason. Then again, they were practically in another world. "Well, you don't have to worry about Barnes anymore."

Max narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I found the recording of a conversation between Britain and Barnes. Britain didn't like the variables"—she loaded the word with contempt—" that Barnes was introducing to agitate the civvies and thought it would lead to a revolt. He said he wouldn't do it, and Barnes finally agreed."

"Except he didn't." Max nodded grimly. "Barnes staged the murder."

"He damned well did," Scarlett said. "He'd bugged Britain's house and knew I'd found the recording, so he tried to kill me, too."

Max's eyes flared, but he said nothing.

Adrenalin flushed Scarlett with heat as images of the scene ran through her mind. "I butchered him with a kitchen knife."

"Good riddance!" Max spat at the floor again. A savage smile creased his face. "Wish I could've used my blasters on them, but they caught me first." His grin faded and his eyes widened as if a puzzle piece just snapped into place. "You turned me in!"

"Damned right I turned you in, Max Planck." Scarlett jumped up from the bed and grabbed the blaster. "You sent my brother to feed."

Max surged to his feet threw the chair against the wall. "Sarah would have lived if she'd had that suit, you little idiot." He jabbed a finger at Scarlett. "Your precious revenge killed my sister!"

She jammed the blaster into his chest. "I reckon a sister for a brother is a fair trade! Maybe I ought to just finish what I started."

Chapter 32

Max shoved away the muzzle and turned around. Hands gripping the counter in a white-knuckled grip, a shudder ran through his body. "Why didn't you just kill me, Scarlett?" Agony laced his voice. "Why didn't you just put a blaster to my head and end it? You could've spared Sarah."

Scarlett trembled and dropped onto the bed as the true horror of what she'd done ripped into her soul. It would have broken Nathan's heart to know what she'd done in the name of vengeance. Salty tears stung a cut on her lip. "I'm sorry, Max." Scarlett crossed the small space and put a hand on the sobbing man's back. "I thought Sarah was good as dead anyway. I didn't know about this place."

Max nodded, walked calmly over to the chair, and righted it. His face glistened with tears, but he made no move to wipe them away. "I don't think she knew or she would've told me before we left the airlock." He stared at the beer bottle. "I've already cursed myself a thousand times for not sharing the micro-breather when she passed out. I thought I'd die if I lifted the mask."

Scarlett perfectly understood. She used to tell Nathan every treasonous thought she ever had. After he'd been condemned to feed, she had no doubt her ideas had indoctrinated him, made him take action that led to his execution.

Scarlett sat back down, folded her hands in her lap, and stared at them. "I reckon we both have a lot to answer for, Max." She looked up and met his tortured gaze. "Since we're still living, I reckon we have time to make up for what we did."

Max barked a cynical laugh. "Redemption, Deputy Flynn?"

Scarlett swallowed hard and nodded. "Redemption, Constable Planck."

His mirthless chuckles turned to disdainful belly laughs. Max held up his beer. "Here's to damned souls and damned idiots. May we kill the evil overlord bastards before they kill us." He gulped his bottle until it was dry.

Scarlett stared at him. "We're also damned lucky to be alive, Max."

Max nodded. "I reckon so." He reached into the fridge and removed another beer. "I suppose it's my turn for story time."

"It sure is." Scarlett picked up her beer and waited.

"You already met my best friend, Patch." Max leaned back in his chair. "That leopard chased me up a tree not long after I arrived here, and that's where I spent my first night." He continued on about how he'd found water and nearly met his end by the horns of a billy goat while trying to kill it. "Patch took that kill from me, but I found new prey and ate it raw."

Scarlett grimaced. "Well, I suppose you had no choice."

He shook his head. "That was when I met the ranger, Creed." Max told Scarlett how he'd run but the wily ranger followed him and tricked him when Max tried to use trees to avoid leaving footprints.

Scarlett gasped when Max recounted how he'd killed Creed. "You outfoxed the fox, Max."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "Creed underestimated me. He thought I made the same mistake twice." Max slid the epad from his backpack and showed Scarlett the map. He tapped a finger on the door icon to the northwest. "I think this is where he came from. Won't be much longer before the other ranger comes looking for him."

A cold chill walked down Scarlett's spine. "Do we lie in wait and kill him too?"

Max's eyes went distant. "I think it might be best to avoid them altogether. I think there are more airlocks leading to more habitats. Maybe we can use the shelters in each one, spread it out so they don't know we're there."

"We'll be just like the ancient nomads," Scarlett mused. "Moving from one place to another; surviving, but not living." She shook her head. "That's not how I want to live, Max. I need a goal."

"I figured as much." Max stared at his beer bottle. "I reckon we'd kill each other before long in that kind of life. In another life maybe…" His eyes wandered up to meet hers. "What I suggest is that we explore and map out these other habitats. Creed didn't know City 7 existed. I'd bet he didn't know anything about the other habitats either."

"I stayed the night in the airlock," Scarlett said, "and nobody from City 7 came looking for me. Makes me wonder if Alderman doesn't know or just doesn't care."

"I wonder the same thing," Max said. "What I'm sure of is that someone somewhere knows about this entire place, and I'd like to find them." He took his empty beer bottle and held it over the floor. "This is what got Sarah into trouble." The bottle clanged on the wooden floor.

Scarlett didn't make the connection. "What in the dome are you talking about, Max?"

"She said the gravity here was wrong, that it was close to Earth normal when it should only be a third of it." Max retrieved the empty bottle and set it on the table. "I wouldn't know if we weigh as much as we should. She said human bodies waste away in low gravity, but obviously that hasn't happened. That's why I thought we might be on Earth."

"It's possible," Scarlett said. She waved a hand around. "We have no idea what's outside these walls."

"That's why I want to climb the wall."

Scarlett tapped a finger to her chin and considered the idea. "That means we have to go to the northwest section where the trees are tall enough."

"When you went up to Overlook, did you see the window to the outside?" Max asked.

Scarlett shook her head. "I didn't go all the way across. The glass looks just as blurry up there as it does from the ground."

Max pursed his lips. "In other words, Alderman and the others can only look outside to the west or thereabouts."

"I reckon you're right," Scarlett said. "The dome was designed to keep us in the dark."

"If that's the case, why would this dome be perfectly clear?" Max stood up and paced. "What prevents someone like Creed from climbing a tree and looking outside?"

"Do the tallest trees rise higher than the wall?" Scarlett asked.

Max shrugged. "I couldn't tell from my location. We'll just have to go there and find out."

Scarlett got up. "I'm ready; let's go."

He opened the fridge and looked inside. "I suggest we eat first. You want beef or chicken?"

Scarlett's nose wrinkled. "Is it any better than the meat in City 7?"

Max grinned. "This is gonna be the best meal you ever had."

He was right. A creamy sauce filled with mushrooms covered tender beef and noodles. Coupled with another beer, it tasted heavenly.

"Where do you reckon they get the food to make this?" Scarlett asked.

Max shrugged. "We have more livestock and crop yields than we use. It's possible some of our harvests are diverted to make these meal packs."

"Maybe they have an entire dome dedicated to nothing but food," Scarlett suggested.

"Anything is possible." Max finished his meal and put the empty packet in a recycling bin. "That's why we need to get a look outside."

"Well, let's go." Scarlett holstered her blaster and slung the duffel bag over a shoulder.

Max looked at it for a moment then retrieved his own weapon and backpack. "You'll probably want to change out of that toughsuit before hiking across the jungle."

Scarlett didn't like losing the extra protection from the toughsuit, but it was too bulky for hiking or climbing trees. She pointed to the door. "I need a moment."

Max left the room without a word.

Scarlett unzipped the toughsuit and sighed with relief at the cooler air touching her skin. She shivered at the thought of being unclothed with Max so near, but a feeling bubbled to the surface, a strange sense of déjà vu.

Scarlett drops her clothes to the floor and walks toward a bed.

Scarlett rubbed her eyes and blinked. "Am I seeing things?" I must be more tired than I thought. Nose wrinkling at the odor emanating from the suit, Scarlett tugged it off and peeled off the sweaty slacks and shirt she'd taken from Britain's closet. "Is there any rope or climbing equipment in here?" Scarlett asked as she padded over to the closet and inspected the smaller-sized clothing inside.

"Not that I found," Max said from the bathroom. "You almost done?"

"Almost." Scarlett grimaced at her sticky, salty skin, but figured a few minutes in the humidity outside would make her just as sweaty again in no time. The underwear and clothing looked identical to what was available to civvies in City 7, though few people could afford the rations for extra clothing. Underneath the shorts she found a bra.

"Do you need deodorant?" Max called.

Scarlett didn't need to sniff her armpits to know the answer. She slid on the bra. "Yes."

Max's hand appeared through the doorway and tossed the stick on the bed. Scarlett applied it generously to her armpits and put on the shirt.

"Scarlett, get me a towel, please," a man calls from a bathroom.

Scarlett laughs. "One day I'm going to make you get it yourself."

"How strong is that beer, Max?" she called.

"You're not drunk are you?" he said.

"Maybe I am," she murmured and tried to recall the vision, but it fled from her like mist in sunlight.

"You done?" Max said.

Scarlett shook from her reverie. "Yes."

He came inside the bathroom and hit the button to open the trap door. "Something wrong?"

"No, I'm fine."

Max gazed at her uncertainly then climbed down the ladder outside.

Scarlett stared into the mirror and tried again to remember what she'd seen, but not even a hint resurfaced. Did it even happen? When she finally emerged outside, she found Max sitting on a stump several feet away intently watching a bright blue frog.

"Don't touch that!" Scarlett said.

Max jumped up, startled. "I didn't plan to. I think it's poisonous."

"You're right about that," she said. "I read in a book that savages would make darts and kill people with the poison from frogs like that."

"Who needs frogs when you have blasters?" Max said. He pointed to the west. "Let's head to the wall and use the path to go north."

"By the way, the other ranger is a woman," Scarlett said.

Max raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?"

"There was a bra in the closet."

Max's eyes went to the bulging duffel bag. "We need to lighten your load. Did you put the toughsuit inside?"

She nodded. "We can leave some things in the airlock."

"Good idea." Max led her back to the airlock and revealed the hidden control panel. Scarlett left the toughsuit, the bubble helmet, and several other odds and ends in the airlock.

Max peered over her shoulder. "Why don't you give me a smaller blaster? This sniper rifle is heavy."

Scarlett handed him a back holster and a carbine blaster with a scope. It was shorter and lighter than the sniper rifle, but still provided some range in case they needed it. She took the other pistol and holstered it on her left hip.

Max removed a battery pack from his backpack and compared it to the one in the carbine. "Well, at least these are standard size." He checked it against the pack on the pistol and confirmed the match. "I think you can leave the rest of that stuff here. I've got food and water in the backpack."

Scarlett didn't like the idea of leaving everything behind, but for now it made sense. "What if someone comes looking for us from City 7?"

Max looked around and pointed to some thick underbrush. "We can hide the duffel in there. Just take out the food so an animal doesn't find it."

She removed the remaining fruit and bread and left it on the airlock floor then hid the duffel with the other weapons and battery packs in the bushes.

Max looked at the bladewheel. "Wish we had more use for that." He shrugged and hit the button to close the airlock door. "Let's go."

Scarlett felt immensely happy not to have the added weight of the duffel bag on her back as they hiked the perimeter path. The trees grew thicker and taller in this part of the jungle, but none rivaled the height of the wall. Max checked the epad frequently and called a halt when they drew within range of the door icon.

Max motioned Scarlett off the path. "Let's circle through the forest." He forged through the thick underbrush and vanished.

Scarlett tried to follow close behind, but stumbled through a thicket of briars and lost him. "Max?" she hissed. "Max?"

A hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her back. She tried to scream, but Max whispered in her ear. "Quiet."

Scarlett elbowed him in the belly and broke free, turning to give him an angry glare. Max jabbed a finger to the right. Just through the bushes, a narrow path was visible, and down it, a wide metal door.

"That's where the rangers come from," Max whispered.

"Do you see any?" Scarlett asked.

He shook his head.

"Then why are you whispering?"

Max pointed to a small transparent dome affixed to the wall. "That looks like the cameras we have in City 7."

Scarlett crouched lower. "Let's go. This place doesn't feel safe."

Max stared at the door. "Remember how you said you didn't want to live like a nomad for the rest of your life?"

Scarlett's forehead pinched. "Yes, why?"

He crouched next to her. "What if we could take over the ranger station?"

"Take it over?" Scarlett hissed. "Are you insane, Max?"

"Just insane enough to think we could do it." He looked around and pointed out a tree with wide, thick branches. "We could hide up there and watch for the other ranger. When she comes out, we capture her and interrogate her about how many people are in the headquarters, what kind of defenses they have, and so forth."

Scarlett's mouth fell open. "You want to kidnap someone so we can take over her home? Max, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. What if there's a hundred people working in there?" She waved an arm around the forest. "How many people does it take to maintain a place like this?"

"That's what I aim to find out," Max replied in a dead even tone.

"What if we find out there are too many people for us to handle? Are you going to kill the other ranger too?"

He nodded without hesitation. "Look, you said exploring this place was a good idea. You want Alderman and his boys gone just as much as I do. Unless you want to play hide-and-go-seek the rest of your life, I suggest you help me think of a way to find our own safe place." Max motioned his head east. "Let's circle around and keep looking for trees."

It took Scarlett a moment to follow him since her brain was still processing Max's crazy idea. She hated to admit that he was partially right. Unless they found a safe place to live, they would always be on the run, but she didn't like the idea of kidnapping or killing anyone. Something like that hit too close to home, especially after her close call with the insurgents.

When she caught up with Max he stood at the base of a massive tree with chunky brown bark just a few feet off the perimeter path. He stared up with awe. "I didn't know trees grew this big."

Scarlett peered up. It looked as though the top rose slightly higher than the wall, and several branches extended across the path, possibly offering a way to reach their goal. But there was one big obstacle to overcome. "How in the dome are we supposed to climb this thing?" The lowest branches looked fifty feet high and the trunk was certainly too wide to straddle.

Max gripped a knot in the bark and tested it. "As long as I'm careful, I think I can grip the bark." He circled the trunk. "I don't see any vines we can use."

"You're a fool if you think you can use hand strength to scale this thing, Max." Scarlett set hands to hips and glared at him. "I'll bet you don't get twenty feet."

Max huffed impatiently. "Well I guess you'll just have to catch me if I fall."

"Don't count on it," Scarlett said. "I will watch you all the way to the ground." She smacked her hands together to drive home the point.

Max set his backpack and blaster on the ground. He braced a foot on a lump of bark and grabbed a knot then pulled himself up. "If that's the case, then don't let me suffer."

"Don't ask me to give you a quick easy end," Scarlett said. "I'll let you suffer a minute for every soul you sent to feed."

"Reckon I deserve it," Max said, pulling himself up another few inches, his boot scuffing the bark in search of a foothold. He made it a little more than ten feet before he paused to rest. "This is a lot harder than I thought."

"And it's about to get a lot harder," said a new voice. A sharp stick with feathers on the end plunged into the tree inches from Max's left hand.

Chapter 33

Max yelped and half-slid, half-fell down the tree, landing in a heap at the bottom. Pain lanced up his ankle. He tried to move into cover, but a woman in a tight uniform covered with brown and green patterns stepped from behind a bush. A black cap covered her head. One hand held taut a string with another stick cocked and ready to fly and she wore a small blaster by her side.

Max had seen a weapon like that in a book but couldn't remember what it was called. He didn't need to know the name to see that it could impale him just as effectively as a blaster bolt.

Scarlett raised her hands and backed away. "Is that a bow and arrow?"

The woman released the tension on the bow, but seemed no less dangerous. "Why the bloody hell are you wearing Creed's clothes?" she asked Max in an accent similar to Creed's. She glared at Scarlett. "Are those my spare boots?"

Ice gripped Max's heart. The second ranger had found them. "I found them in a shelter."

She pointed the arrow at the backpack. "That's Creed's backpack." Her eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

Max tried to think of a clever lie, but came up blank. If this woman was anything like Creed, it didn't matter what he said. The best thing to do was find cover and then get his blaster. Luckily the carbine sat behind the tree out of sight of the woman.

"Answer me," the woman said.

"He's dead." If Max hoped that statement would shock the woman enough to make her drop her guard, he was wrong. He tried to lunge behind the tree, but the woman cocked the arrow and stared him down.

"Don't even think about it." The woman motioned Scarlett with the tip of the arrow. "Drop your weapons and join your friend at the tree."

Scarlett eased the blasters from their holsters and dropped them, then walked over to Max. The woman, still holding the bow at the ready, knelt down and inspected the blasters. "These look like the models used by marshals." She narrowed her eyes and studied Max. "But I don't recognize either of you."

Despite the precarious situation, Max took her statement as a positive sign. If she recognized all the security people, that meant there weren't many of them. "We're with maintenance," he said.

She frowned and shook her head. "Did you kill Creed?"

Max nodded. "He tried to hunt me down like an animal. I tricked him."

"I believe the first part, but I find it hard to believe you outsmarted Creed." She lowered the bow. "Don't get brave. I can draw and shoot faster than most people can fire a blaster."

"I believe you," Scarlett said. "You must be the other ranger."

"Creed didn't care about knowing other people," the woman replied. "I made it a point to get to know everyone in the station and I've never seen either of you."

"We're not from here," Scarlett said. "We came from City 7."

The woman stared blankly at her. "A city? There aren't any cities here."

"Creed didn't believe me either," Max said, "but it's the truth."

"How many people live in this city of yours?"

Max shrugged. "Three thousand, give or take."

The ranger's eyes widened. "Thousand?"

Since the woman seemed more curious than murderous, now seemed a good time to probe for information. "How many people live in the station?"

"Two hundred forty-three." She cocked her head to the side. "If such a city exists, why did you leave?"

"Because the government tried to kill us," Scarlett said.

"Government?" The ranger seemed befuddled.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Yes, the people who make the rules."

"Ah, like a council," the other woman said.

Max hopped in, trying to continue the conversation to buy time. "Who tells you what to do?"

The woman grimaced. "The science council." She sighed. "Which brings us back to the point." Her eyes bored into Max and her hand tensed on the bow. "Did you really kill Creed?"

The bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach. The ranger was done talking, probably seconds away from spitting them with her arrows. Max regretted telling her he'd outsmarted and killed Creed. That made it far more likely she'd think them dangerous and kill them quickly.

Max nodded and rose to his feet. His ankle was a little sore, but it wasn't sprained. He could probably make it behind the tree before she impaled him with an arrow. He didn't know if Scarlett could make it though, so he came up with another idea. "I can take you to his body if you want."

The woman hesitated, shook her head. "The animals can eat him for all I care." She pointed to the backpack. "I want you to put your weapons in the knapsack and then I want you to show me how to get to the city."

"Why would you want to go to the city?" Scarlett asked, shock plain on her face. "They'd just as soon kill you as let you in."

"I never said I wanted to go there," the ranger said. "I want to see how to get there."

Max stared, bemused, at the ranger. "Why don't you like Creed?"

"Because you're not the first person he hunted," she replied in a flat tone. "The council gave him others to hunt over the years."

"What?" Scarlett shrieked. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Punishment for breaking the rules." The ranger's knuckles turned white. "Now, do what I asked, and show me how to get to the city."

Scarlett scooped up the blasters and put them in the backpack, but left Max's carbine where it lay since the ranger apparently hadn't seen it.

"Put the knapsack on him," the ranger said.

"That's Max and I'm Scarlett," Scarlett said, easing the straps over Max's arms. "What's your name?"

The ranger hesitated before answering, "Yana."

Scarlett frowned. "Why do you talk so funny?"

Max cringed.

Yana lifted an eyebrow. "I was going to ask you the same thing." She motioned with the arrow. "Head south and turn due east at the redwood tree with the bear claw marks on it."

Scarlett looked confused, but Max still had his bearings and started walking.

"Don't think the underbrush will hide you if you try to run," Yana said. "I'll be shadowing you."

Max turned around to look at the ranger, but she'd vanished from sight.

Scarlett shivered. "I feel like I'm being hunted."

"Believe me, it's a lot worse than this," Max said, looking around for signs of their warden. "This is more like having a babysitter."

"You reckon she could catch us like she says?" Scarlett dropped to a knee. "I'll bet she couldn't find us if we crawled real quietly."

"Stand up, Scarlett," Yana called from somewhere nearby. "Keep moving."

Max tugged Scarlett up by her arm. She wriggled free and gave him an angry look. "Keep your hands off me, Max, or I'll knee you where the sun don't shine."

Max growled. "Just do me a favor and shoot her," he said, continuing forward.

Scarlett's eyes widened. "You'd be happy if I was dead."

"No, but I'd have a lot more peace in my remaining days." Max spotted the redwood tree scarred with claw marks a few minutes later and turned east.

"Keep going 'til you reach the path," Yana said from right behind him.

Scarlett shrieked and jumped high as a scared cat. Max flinched and spun.

"I thought Creed was good," Max said.

Yana's upper lipped curled disdainfully. "He was good at tracking and killing." She nodded her chin forward. "Get moving."

They reached the path a ways south of the door and out of sight of the camera. Max decided that was a positive thing. Unless Yana was faking her dislike of Creed, she might actually let them live. The other very real possibility was that she might kill them anyway out of a sense of duty.

It seemed the only way to know for sure was to ask. "What do you plan to do with us, Yana?"

"I haven't decided," she replied. "Right now I simply want to determine if you're telling the truth."

"Where else would we have come from?" Scarlett said.

Scarlett's question raised a host of others. "Where do the people in your station come from?" Max asked.

"That is a very good question," Yana said. "I used to think we were born there, but unlike the animals in the habitat, we are unable to procreate. Most of the time, the council will simply introduce a new baby to one of the foster families and tell them how the child is to be instructed."

"Were you raised to be a ranger?" Max asked.

She nodded.

"So you have schools there," Scarlett said.

"Every child is taught about the animals in the habitat, about the environment, and all the many variables that go into maintaining it." Yana knelt next to a mound of droppings and inspected it for a moment. She stood and motioned them onward. "We are evaluated several times during our education and then told what our final assignments will be. Maintenance personnel go to technical school, for example."

"Sound just like City 7," Max said.

Scarlett tapped a finger on her chin. "I'll bet you're a freezer baby like me."

Yana stopped in her tracks. "I once overheard a scientist using this term. What does it mean?"

Max slowed his pace. "It means they took a frozen egg and sperm and fertilized the egg in a test tube." He splayed his hands. "Sarah told me they use artificial wombs to grow the babies."

The ranger resumed walking. "Who is Sarah?"

A lump formed in Max's throat. "She was my sister."

"Where is she?" Yana asked.

Sarah grips Max by the arm. "Alderman won't listen to you. You and Scarlett need to accept there are just some things you can't change!"

Max staggered. Another hallucination. He'd never had that conversation with Sarah.

"She died coming here," Scarlett said, continuing the conversation since Max hadn't answered.

"Did an animal get her?" Yana asked.

Max wiped at his eyes and tried to answer, but his throat refused to cooperate.

"There are some things I need to explain about City 7," Scarlett said. "Our government is strict about what we can do or say. If you break their rules, they can execute you." Scarlett stared blankly for a moment and shook her head like a wet dog.

"Like our council," Yana said in a harsh voice.

"Yes, I suppose." Scarlett seemed to recover from whatever had bothered her. "If you're sentenced to die, you get a choice to feed the father or feed the daughter."

"What kind of rubbish is that?" ranger said in disgust. "Do you eat human flesh?"

Max's throat cleared enough to speak. "The father is Mars, and the daughter is the city. Feeding means our bodies are sent back into the ground to nourish one or the other."

"Sound disgusting." Yana tucked away a lock of black hair that strayed from within her cap. "Were you sentenced to die?"

"Max was," Scarlett said. "I chose to leave the dome and take my chances on the surface of Mars."

"You've been on the surface?" A mix of curiosity and fear colored her voice. "What's it like?"

"That brings me to the next part of the story," Scarlett said. She gave a brief recollection of what had happened to her and Max, conveniently leaving out how much she disliked him and how she'd betrayed him in the end. Her description of the room with the fake setting of Mars drew flabbergasted looks from Yana.

"Why employ such subterfuge?" Yana's voice grew high pitched. "It sounds absolutely mad."

"This whole place is mad," Scarlett said.

"We wanted to see the real outside," Max said, "but the tallest trees are up near your headquarters."

"It's impossible to see outside," Yana said. "I have climbed the dome wall before, but the lower section of the glass is opaque."

Max's heart tumbled. "Could you use a ladder?"

She shook her head. "Even if I could sneak a ladder outside and then bring it up the wall with me, it would be very difficult to brace it against the curved glass without it falling over backward."

"Bastards!" Max pounded a fist into the other palm. "Why is everything kept secret from us? It's like we're a bunch of rats in a maze, kept in the dark about whatever lies around the next bend."

"If your city exists, then I'd certainly agree," Yana replied. "I don't understand why they'd keep its existence from us."

"We think there are other habitats too," Scarlett said.

Yana didn't look surprised. "I've always suspected there might be."

Max spotted the black line on the wall marking due east. He slid his hand over from the line and pressed the wall until the small panel slid back to reveal the airlock controls.

Yana's eyes grew wide. "What does that do?"

Max hit the button and the door slid open.

The ranger stared at the small room. "This is the airlock you described."

"There's another one on the city end," Scarlett said.

"You can't leave it, though," Max said. "There's no air to breathe."

"I'll hold my breath." Yana narrowed her eyes. "I have to see it for myself."

"You can't hold your breath," Max said. "It's a frozen airless vacuum. Your skin will freeze and the air will explode from your lungs."

Scarlett seemed to measure the other woman with her gaze. "She could use my toughsuit."

Max compared the two women. Yana was slightly taller with an athletic build, but she could probably squeeze into the toughsuit.

"This is the special suit you stole for the crossing?" Yana said.

"Yes." Scarlett pointed toward the bushes. "We hid the duffel bag over there."

"You do realize that you'll have to leave us in the tunnel?" Max said. "We can't come into the airlock with you."

"Get the bag and let's go," the ranger said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Max went to the duffel, opening it first to look for a weapon, but all he found were battery packs. "Dammit," he muttered. His knife was in the backpack. The blasters were in the backpack. He'd hoped Scarlett had left one weapon behind. Max lugged the bag back to the airlock and took out the toughsuit, a micro-breather, and the bubble helmet.

Yana frowned when she saw the outfit. Her frown deepened when she leaned over it and sniffed. "It stinks."

Scarlett's face shaded red. "It needs to air out."

"Leave your knapsack here," Yana told Max.

He handed the toughsuit to Scarlett and placed the backpack next to the duffel bag. Yana leaned her bow against the wall and set the quiver next to it. She met Scarlett and Max's surprised looks with a confident gaze.

"I've studied you during our walk," Yana explained. "You're soft and untrained." She patted a knife at her waist. "I'd advise you not to attempt anything. I've wrestled boars, panthers, and even tested myself against bull elephants. Neither of you would stand a chance."

"Creed probably thought Max didn't stand a chance," Scarlett said. "Look what happened to him."

Max hid a grimace. Why'd she have to open her big mouth?

"Overconfidence was always Creed's biggest flaw," Yana said. "I am very aware of my limits. Barring unconsciousness, I believe I can handle you."

Scarlett clenched her fists as if preparing to test the ranger with a direct assault. Max put an arm on her shoulder.

"If you don't wish us harm, we don't wish you harm," he said.

"Mhmm," was Yana's sparse reply. She motioned them into the airlock. Once everyone was inside, she closed the outside door.

After clearing the second door, Yana made Max and Scarlett lead the way. When at last they reached the sharp turn south leading back to the other airlock, Max stopped at the corner and waited. Lights flickered a hundred yards back the way they'd come. Yana might be stealthy, but she couldn't do much about the automatic lights in the tunnel. When she came closer, it became obvious why she'd fallen behind.

The blue toughsuit pressed tight against her legs and hips and strained against the tops of her shoulders. If the skintight uniform hadn't made clear the ranger's muscular physique, the toughsuit emphasized it even more.

"This is not a comfortable fit," Yana said. "Tell me how to use the breather apparatus."

Scarlett checked the microbreather already attached to the helmet. "You still have an hour of air in this one." She demonstrated unscrewing it and putting in the other one. "They're easy to change."

Yana unsheathed her knife in one smooth motion that sent Scarlett and Max stumbling away. The ranger turned away from them and pried a metal panel off the concrete wall to reveal metal conduit running up inside the wall. "Come here."

"Why?" Scarlett asked.

"I'm going to secure you so you don't try anything foolish."

"We'll wait right here for you," Max said. "I promise we won't run away."

"Running isn't the only thing I'm concerned about," Yana said. "What if you somehow sabotaged the airlock controls? What if you're lying about what's on the other side?"

"We're not!" Scarlett stamped a foot. "You're a paranoid fool, Yana."

"You're a rude bitch," the ranger replied calmly. "Now, both of you come here before I knock you out and do this the hard way."

Max bristled. "I don't think so. Either you learn to trust us, or you just try and force me over there. Maybe you're used to dealing with animals, but I've dealt with some cunning humans in my time as constable."

Yana put away the knife and sighed. "If you insist."

Scarlett suddenly looked nervous. "Maybe we should just do as she asks."

Max was done letting this ranger bully him around. He waggled a finger at her. "Leave me in peace or I'll make you regret attacking me."

Yana moved toward him.

Chapter 34

Max blinked awake to the sound of laughter. His head ached and his wrists hurt. Scarlett's amused face was the first thing he saw.

"I reckon the only thing Yana regrets is lugging your heavy body to these pipes." Scarlett leaned her head back against the wall and took a deep breath. "I never saw anyone fall so fast."

Max groaned and looked at his hands. Yana had tied his wrists to Scarlett's with a thick nylon tie and wrapped it around a conduit. He shook the fuzz from his head and looked for a knot but the material was secured with some kind of thick clamp.

"How long?" Max asked.

"About ten minutes. Maybe twenty." Scarlett sighed. "I lost track of the time." Her eyes wandered to the side of Max's head. "She didn't even leave a bruise."

Max leaned his cheek against the cool concrete and let it soothe the ache. Do what Yana says from now on. It riled him something fierce that anyone could put him down so hard and fast, but there was always someone better and stronger.

"Provided we survive this, what's our next move?" Scarlett rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist and looked at Max expectantly.

Scarlett watches Alderman as he gives a speech. She turns to Max. "What's our next move with Alderman?"

It took Max a moment to separate reality from illusion. "What makes you think I'm in charge anymore?" Max closed his eyes. "Ask Yana when she comes back."

Scarlett huffed. "Max Planck, don't you give up again. We need to convince Yana to help us survive."

"How?" Max opened his eyes and glared at her. "She hasn't listened to me yet."

"Maybe she can get us into her ranger station," Scarlett said. "Maybe she can help us get to the other habitats."

That circled Max's thoughts back to something he'd considered earlier. "I believe there are airlocks at all the cardinal direction signs in the dome. Maybe she'll take us to another one to test my idea."

Scarlett seemed somewhat mollified. "That's a good idea. I also think we should still climb the wall. There must be a way to see outside."

"If Yana said it's not possible, I believe her." Max envisioned the opaque section of the wall. Yana hadn't said how tall it was. If it was only a few feet, they might be able to overcome it.

"Surviving the father was supposedly impossible too," Scarlett retorted. "Looks like two of us did that."

Max didn't feel like talking anymore. He closed his eyes and hoped the headache went away soon.

Scarlett sniffed. "Reckon I'll have to do all the planning."

"Fine. You think you're smarter than everyone else."

"That's not it at all, Max Planck." She bumped her forehead hard against his.

"Ow!" Max flinched back. "You're crazy."

"And you give up too easy," she shot back. "I kept on believing we could make a difference."

Max grunted. "And we see where that got you. You only lasted a day after I was gone."

Scarlett frowned and let out a long sigh. "I realize now that it must have been very hard being on Alderman's leash all those years. You didn't outright go up against Alderman, but you still tried to help people. The father knows I heard enough about that from other civvies after Alderman sent you to feed."

"Is this an apology for years of verbal abuse?" Max asked.

She stared at him for a moment then answered in a strained voice. "I suppose I was wrong about you…in some ways." Scarlett sighed. "I reckon you did your best under the circumstances." Her eyes glittered. "It may be wrong of me, but I still hate you for letting Nathan feed."

Max blinked and a tear trickled down his face.

Scarlett couldn't believe what she was seeing. Is he crying? "Are you okay?"

"Don't you think the ghosts haunt me every night?" Max whispered. "Rick Coleman, Ann Smith, Gertrude Klein, Theodore Walker, Andrew Clemmons"—he continued the list, each one drawing more tears and paused on the one that mattered the most to Scarlett—"Nathan Harris."

The name was like a spike in her heart. Max continued the litany of the dead, voice growing hoarser with each name. When he tried to speak the last name, sobs robbed him of his voice, so Scarlett finished it for him.

"Sarah Planck." Scarlett leaned back against the wall and stared blankly at the overhead lights made blurry by her tears. Alderman's government had robbed so many of so much. Even knowing what she knew now, it was impossible to separate her hatred of the system from Max. For too long he'd been the symbol of oppression because in the end, he'd followed orders. Yet, in a single day she'd unveiled the bare ugly facts concerning Max's predicament all those years.

Scarlett couldn't imagine how he'd survived so long, but she could certainly see how he'd lost his soul and his will.

The faint sound of hissing air drew her attention to the airlock. A small eternity seemed to pass before the inner airlock door whooshed open. Scarlett's eyes grew wide.

Max gasped. "What the fuck?"

Two figures in blue toughsuits lay prone on the floor. Yana was on her knees, face contorted with pain. Scarlett quickly saw the reason why. The lower left side of her suit was black where a blaster bolt had hit it. Yana twisted off the helmet and dropped it. She staggered to her feet, face blanched.

"What happened?" Max said.

"Attacked," Yana said in a strained voice. Her steps faltered and she fell to her knees several yards away. "Help." She flung her knife toward Scarlett and collapsed.

The knife slid on the floor and stopped well out of reach.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Max groaned. He lashed out with a leg but came up short. Banging the back of his head against the wall, he burst into crazed laughter. "We're dead." He stared at the fallen ranger. "At least she dies fast while we slowly starve and dehydrate."

"Shut up, Max!" Scarlett bit her lower lip and stared at the knife. "There has to be a way to get it." She looked at the nylon tie on her wrists and wondered if they could chew through it. Scarlett tested the material with her teeth and failed to even leave a mark.

"It's reinforced nylon," Max said. "Just like the stuff we used at the constable station." He shook his head. "We can't cut it without a knife."

Max decided he'd sooner gnaw off his own arm than die tied to this pipe. They'd escape, all right. The only question was how intact they'd be afterward. Maybe he'd gnaw off Scarlett's hand instead.

Don't give up! There had to be a way out of this. If only he had something a few feet long to snare the knife. Max looked at his boots and wondered if the shoelaces might work. Something better caught his eye. "Scarlett, can you get to my belt?"

She wriggled her hands. "I'm just as tied up as you."

Max rolled his eyes. "With your teeth."

"My teeth?" Scarlett cringed and shook her head, seeming to reject the idea, then huffed. "You'll have to meet me halfway."

Max nodded and shifted awkwardly to his knees. He arched his back, pushing his waist toward her. Scarlett shuddered and leaned forward. Her teeth clanked on the belt buckle.

"Hold still!"

Max braced himself against the wall. "I'm trying to."

Scarlett opened her mouth wider and gripped the leather. She tugged the end of the belt free, bit it again, and tugged until the metal tine popped out of the hole. "I'm going to lose a tooth, I just know it."

"Can you pull it out of the loops?" Max asked.

Scarlett bit the belt just behind the buckle and pulled. The leather tightened around Max's waist and then slowly worked loose. Scarlett moved her grip and pulled again, repeating the process until the belt came free in her mouth.

"Now what?" she said, words muffled by the payload in her mouth.

Max wasn't sure. Without a free hand, he couldn't easily toss the buckle at the knife. "I need to attach the belt to my boot."

Scarlett rested the belt in the crook of her arm and glared at him. "How in the dome am I supposed to get it in your shoe?"

"I'll lean back and hold up my foot. Maybe you can work the leather under the laces." Max nodded at the big buckle. "I'll need the weight of the metal to snag the knife." He shrugged. "It's either that, or I gnaw off your hand."

"If anyone loses a hand, it'll be you, Max Planck." Scarlett let out a dejected sigh. "Let's give this a try."

Max shifted back to a sitting position and leaned back, pressing his foot against the pipe just beneath their hands. Scarlett worked the belt with her teeth, pulling it up until she held it a few inches from the tapered end. Moving her neck back and forth, she slowly pushed the tip beneath the shoelaces.

Once it was in far enough, Scarlett rolled her head, cracking her neck. "Now I've got a crick."

"Better than starving to death," Max said. He slowly shifted until his foot pointed at the knife. "Here goes nothing." The belt buckle miraculously caught the knife hilt on the first try.

"Nice shot, Constable." A smile broke on Scarlett's face. "Now just reel it in nice and easy."

Max slowly dragged his foot back, the belt buckle and knife trailing behind. He brought it close enough to reach with his heel and scooted the knife the rest of the way. Using both feet, Max clamped the hilt between them and pivoted on his butt until Scarlett could reach the blade with her teeth.

"Don't you slice off my tongue," she warned him before gingerly biting down on the metal.

"Don't tempt me." Max released the knife. He shifted back to his knees and leaned toward Scarlett, her big green eyes regarding him warily. "You know, I like you all nice and quiet."

Her eyes glittered. "Mmphh mmm errrr!"

Max couldn't help but chuckle. It was his turn to have a laugh at her expense even though it wasn't nearly as humiliating as the ass-beating he'd taken. He took the hilt in his teeth.

Scarlett scowled and looked ready to give him a tongue lashing when something down the hall caught her attention. "Max!"

Max looked back and saw one of the other two bodies moving. The figure pushed to its knees and looked ahead. Max recognized the man at once. "Marshal Garth," he managed to say around the hilt of the knife.

"One of Alderman's men," Scarlett hissed back. She sucked in a breath as Garth staggered to his feet.

"Cut the cuffs, Max! Cut for your life!"

Max didn't need any urging. He angled his head so the blade met the nylon cuff and worked his neck back and forth.

"Garth looks dizzy," Scarlett said, keeping her eyes on the man. "He's patting his holster, looking for a blaster. I think Yana must have left the weapons outside."

"Mmm," Max replied. Drool leaked from the corners of his mouth and his lips chafed against the hilt.

"Oh, shit," Scarlett said. "Garth is looking this way."

The knife sliced halfway through the nylon. Max jerked hard, hoping his wrists would snap the remaining bond, but the cuffs were too strong. He returned to sawing frantically back and forth as heavy boots clomped closer.

"He's coming." Scarlett's voice was a horrified whisper. "He's taking off his helmet and he looks angry."

A latch clicked followed by a hiss of air. "What the fuck is going on here?" Garth said in a low voice.

Sweat trickled into Max's eyes and his teeth ached from the strain of gripping the knife. Even if he freed himself, he wasn't sure if he could take down Garth. Scarlett yanked frantically, angling her wrists, and suddenly the cuffs snapped. Max tumbled backward, knife still in his mouth. He looked up and saw Garth raising a foot to stomp on the unconscious Yana's chest.

Max flung the knife at the marshal. The hilt smacked into Garth's face and sent him stumbling back, arms windmilling. Sharp prickles ran through Max's hands as the blood flow returned. He jumped to his feet, stumbled, lurched toward the fallen marshal.

Garth roared and rolled awkwardly onto his knees, the toughsuit hindering his movement. Before Max reached him, he climbed to his feet, blood trickling from a gash in his forehead.

Anger and surprise burned in Garth's eyes when he saw Max. "Planck! You're alive." His eyes narrowed, focusing on something behind Max. "Looks like the constable and his deputy survived a feeding."

Max spotted the knife and quickly picked it up before Garth did. He backed away from the marshal. "What are you doing here?"

"Alderman sent me to bring back your bodies," Garth said. "Looks like I gotta do it the hard way."

Yana groaned. Scarlett knelt by the ranger, inspecting the blackened waist of the toughsuit.

Garth looked down at the injured woman. "Who is that?"

Garth's mission seemed to confirm something Max already suspected. "Did Alderman know about this airlock?"

The marshal frowned and wiped blood from his face. "If he doesn't, he will when I get back."

"You really want to go back?" Scarlett squeaked in a disbelieving voice. She jabbed a finger to the east. "There's a whole other dome just down there, and probably others we don't know about."

"If you think Alderman is in charge, you're wrong," Max added. "There's a whole world he doesn't know about out here. There's no reason to go back and tell him anything."

Garth backed away cautiously and knelt next to the other prone figure. His lips curled into a snarl. "That bitch killed one of my men."

"You shot her," Scarlett retorted.

"I thought she was you," Garth said. He stood pressed his lips together, remaining silent for a long moment. He blew out a breath. "You're right. There's no reason to go back to City 7." The marshal walked forward. "Is there another city down this tunnel?"

Scarlett's forehead wrinkled as she stood. "So, you're with us?"

Garth sighed and nodded slowly. "Like you said, Alderman doesn't know about this place. That means someone else is in charge." When he was a couple feet away, Garth lunged forward.

Scarlett grunted as Garth shoved her in the chest hard enough to send her tumbling. Quick as a cat, the marshal spun toward Max. Max dodged to the side. The marshal stumbled past, leaving himself open to attack. Max didn't miss the opportunity and brought the knife hilt down hard on the other man's skull.

Garth bellowed in pain and whipped around. Arms spread wide like a cattle wrangler, the marshal dove toward Max. All the air exploded from Max's lungs from the impact and his back slammed against the floor.

An enraged Marshal Garth raised both fists over his head and brought them down toward Max's face.

Chapter 35

Max threw up his hands to ward off the blow. Blood sprayed in his face and Garth howled in agony. Max looked with surprise at the knife he still held in one hand, the blade lodged in Garth's forearm.

A bubble helmet smashed into Garth's temple and the marshal's bellows abruptly ceased. He tumbled to the side, knife protruding from his arm. Scarlett dropped the bubble helmet and grimaced at the blood spurting across the floor.

"Is he dead?" Max asked.

Scarlett touched the other man's neck and shook her head. "Unfortunately, the son of a bitch is still alive." She turned back to Yana and unzipped the toughsuit, peeling it down to reveal a blackened spot on the skin.

Max jerked the knife from Garth's forearm. Blood poured from the tear in the toughsuit and pooled on the floor. Max dragged the unconscious man back to the airlock and dropped him next to his dead companion. A red-stained puncture in the other marshal's toughsuit just above the heart told the story of his demise. Yana had stabbed him in the chest. What didn't make sense was how or why she'd dragged the two men into the airlock with her, especially after being shot.

"Max, come here," Scarlett called. "She's awake."

He returned to the ranger's side. Yana blinked several times, as if trying to bring the world into focus. Her face had a greenish cast to it, but it appeared the blaster bolt had grazed her side and cauterized the wound all at once instead of punching a hole through her vitals.

Max knelt. "Yana, can you hear me?"

The ranger nodded. "There were others," she whispered.

"Dealt with," Max said. "What happened?"

"They saw me on the hills. Opened fire." She swallowed hard. "I got back to the airlock, but they cornered me." Yana's eyes shifted to Scarlett. "They thought I was her."

"How did you survive?" Scarlett asked.

"Threw the knife at the first. The big one fired his blaster, hit me." She licked her pale lips. "I kicked him in the crotch and knocked him out with a blow to the base of his neck."

If Max's earlier knockout by the ranger hadn't been enough to convince him just how lethal this woman was, her story made it obvious she was no one to mess with.

"How do you feel?" Scarlett asked.

"Nauseous," Yana replied. "Dizzy."

"Well, you took severe burns to your right hip, but the toughsuit protected you from the worst of it." Scarlett shook her head. "You're lucky to be alive. Garth is a murderous bastard."

"Speaking of which"—Max looked back at the airlock—"what do we do with him?"

Scarlett's lips curled into a snarl. "Drag him outside."

Max shook his head. "Not possible. All the toughsuits have holes in them now."

"Well, shit." Scarlett screwed up her lips. "We can't just leave him here alive. He might come after us."

"We'll take him with us," Max said. "Let the jungle have him."

Scarlett looked at the slumbering hulk on the floor and gave Max a dubious look. "How do you reckon you'll carry him, hmm?" She shook her head. "It'll take ages to drag that monster all the way to the other dome."

"Maybe I should kill him now and be done with it." Max gripped the knife. "I don't want to be constantly looking over my shoulder."

A thud and a hiss echoed down the hallway. Max and Scarlett spun around and watched in horror as the airlock door closed.

"That crazy bastard is going back outside!" Scarlett said.

Max ran down the tunnel toward the door. "He might just make it too."

"But he had a hole in his suit!"

"In the arm." Max pounded the button but the control panel buzzed negative because the outer door was already hissing open. "He might be able to keep it sealed by pressing a hand over it."

Scarlett pounded the flat of her hand against the door. "If he makes it back to City 7, he'll tell Alderman everything."

Max pressed an ear to the cold metal and heard the outer door closing. "We're screwed either way. If Garth doesn't return, Alderman will probably send someone else to find out what happened."

"Maybe not," Scarlett said. "Maybe he'll think Garth died on the surface and not risk sending out anyone else."

The outer door clicked shut. Max hit the button and the inner door began to open. "How do you reckon we could stop him, Scarlett? We don't have an undamaged toughsuit." He dropped to his knees and slid under the door the second he had enough room.

Scarlett stooped down and looked inside. "Then what in the dome are you doing in there?"

Max checked the puncture in the dead man's suit. It was small enough to cover with a hand, but he didn't know if that would work. If Scarlett was right, he had to try to stop Garth. "Help me get this off him."

Scarlett poked a finger in the hole on the toughsuit, but didn't argue. She twisted off the bubble helmet and lifted the dead man by the shoulders so Max could tug off the suit. Garth's comrade was nearly the same size as Garth, so the suit fit Max, albeit loosely.

"What are you doing?" rasped a weak voice. Yana leaned against the tunnel wall outside, a hand over her burn wound.

"Going after Garth." Max's voice echoed inside the bubble helmet. He shooed Scarlett away. "Get out of here."

"You're going to kill yourself, you big fool." Scarlett looked doubtfully at the hole. "Better keep that sealed tight."

Max hit the button and the inner door began to close. Scarlett ducked underneath it and joined Yana.

"Get the ranger to a shelter," Max shouted. "There's a first aid kit there." The door latched into place. Max hit the other button and the outer door shuddered open. Keeping one gloved hand over the hole and the knife clenched in the other, Max sucked in a breath of cool air emanating from the micro-breather and prayed he wasn't about to die a horrible death.

The orange-red sands came into view and just ahead, the red dunes. Garth struggled up the closest one and Max realized something else—if the marshal made it up the hill, he'd be in view of the external cameras. City 7 would see him.

Air whistled between Max's fingers as his imperfect seal failed. He shifted the heel of his hand over the puncture and pressed harder. Garth fell to his knees halfway up the dune, one of his hands clamped around his injured wrist. Max reared back his arm, prepared to throw the knife though he had a pitifully small chance of hitting the marshal, much less impaling him from this distance.

Max swung his arm forward but stopped the throw at the last second. Yana had been shot by Garth. Since the weapons weren't inside the airlock, that meant they were still out here somewhere. He turned around and found the blasters to the left of the door.

Garth struggled up the dune, nearly to the top. Max aimed and fired. The first shot blasted a divot in the sand next to Garth. The marshal glanced back, a terrified look on his face. He released his wounded arm and began clawing his way up the dune. Max fired again. The laser bolt pierced Garth right between the shoulders.

The marshal went limp and rolled backwards, red dust clouding around his body. Max felt lightheaded and realized air was no longer whispering from the micro-breather. It had probably been in use all this time, blowing extra air to compensate for the suit puncture while its former occupant lay dead.

Max held his breath and walked through the chalky dust to Garth. The marshal's eyes were wide, mouth working like a fish out of water. "Feed the father, you son of a bitch," Max said, and pulled the trigger two more times.

The airlock, several yards away seemed impossible to reach as Max's eyesight blurred. He dropped to his knees and felt the blaster drop from a hand. It seemed Garth would have company. "You damned fool," Max whispered to himself. "You got yourself killed."

He looked down at the black holes in Garth's chest as vision faded. It was worth it.

Scarlett paced back and forth in the tunnel. "That big fool!" She pressed a hand over her chest. "He just ran outside to die."

Yana's teeth chattered as she nodded. "He was a brave fool."

Scarlett felt as though something had torn her insides apart.

Max smiles at her and it fills her with joy.

Another daydream. When was the last time she'd seen him smile at her like that? Never. Max and Scarlett hadn't gotten along a single day in their lives. Then why did the prospect of his death make her feel so awful?

Bearing down with all her might, she forced herself to remember Nathan. Forced her emotions to feel the steady current of hate that fueled her life. If Max Planck was dead, so much the better.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Yana said.

Scarlett flinched. "It was no true loss." She studied the ranger's pale face and grimaced. "Reckon I'll help the living since there ain't no helping the dead." She helped the injured ranger out of the damaged toughsuit since the added weight would hinder their retreat to a shelter. Soon Yana was stripped down to her original skintight uniform, a blackened blemish at her waist.

Scarlett went to the ranger's uninjured side and slung the other woman's arm over a shoulder. "Let's get you back to that shelter."

Yana hissed with pain, but began limping along with Scarlett. They reached the turn in the tunnel and headed east.

"Why help me?" the ranger asked.

Scarlett didn't quite know the answer herself. "I reckon you could have killed us at any time, but you didn't." She looked over at the taller woman. "Maybe you're worth saving."

Yana nodded grimly. "If it's any consolation, I believe your story now."

"First smart decision you've made." Scarlett closed her eyes and pictured Max lying dead on the red sands. The anguish clenching her chest caught her by surprise, wiping away the hate she wanted to feel. A tear trickled down her cheek. "I can't help him," she whispered.

"Your suit is too damaged." Yana sagged against the wall. "I am sorry I misjudged you, but—"

"No—you were right at first," Scarlett said. "Then you carried it too far." She stared back down the tunnel, silent hope straining in her heart that Max would appear. After a moment of waiting, she leaned Yana against her and began the slow journey back to the jungle.

When they reached the jungle, Scarlett retrieved Max's backpack and Yana directed her to the shelter Scarlett and Max had visited earlier. Scarlett gave the ranger a painkiller from the first aid kit then cleaned the wide wound with a rag. Bits of cloth and material from the toughsuit had melted into the skin, leaving a trail of mutilation about two inches long on the ranger's hip. Scarlett shuddered. Aside from applying ointment, there wasn't much else she could do.

"There's a better medical facility at the station," Yana said in a weary voice.

"How will you explain a blaster burn to your security personnel?"

The ranger squeezed shut her eyes and remained silent for a moment. "I'll tell them it was an accident with my blaster." She opened her eyes and pointed to the backpack. "It's in there—the small black one."

Scarlett found it and removed it from the pack.

"Take it outside and fire off a few shots," Yana said. "That way the battery pack will show some usage."

"What about your bow?" Scarlett asked. "It's back outside the airlock."

"We'll have to go back and get it." Her eyelids seemed to grow too heavy to keep open. "Tomorrow." With that, she fell asleep.

Scarlett stared at the unconscious woman, wondering if it was a good idea to let her return to the station. What if Yana was only pretending to like Scarlett because she was too injured to do anything right now? She might return from the station with marshals. Unfortunately, Scarlett had no one else to turn to for help. As Yana pointed out earlier, she was soft and untrained, especially in this environment.

Max is dead.

"Stop thinking about it!" she hissed angrily. But she couldn't. Something was wrong with her. The strange visions of Max and other people and events she didn't remember seemed to be coming more frequently.

Alderman shakes his head and sighs. "You two just won't give up, will you?"

Scarlett rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Must be something in the water. What is wrong with me?"

After gathering the blaster, Scarlett lowered the trap door and climbed down into the outside. Dusk settled in, casting the jungle in eerie shadow. Unsettling hoots and animal cries set her on edge despite the weapon in her hand. She aimed into the foliage and fired off a few shots.

Someone shouted in surprise.

Scarlett nearly dropped the blaster.

Max burst from the foliage and glared at her. "Are you trying to kill me again?"

Scarlett stumbled backward. "Max? You're alive?" She felt far too happy for her own liking and barely resisted the urge to hug him.

Max stared at her with longing on his face. He backed up a step, forehead wrinkling. "You ask me that after you nearly shot off my head?"

She looked at the blaster in her hand. "I wasn't shooting at anything—just emptying the battery for Yana." Scarlett wanted to touch his face, to be sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"Emptying the battery?" Max stepped in a wide circle around Scarlett. "Why waste the charges?"

Scarlett took a deep breath and willed her limbs to stop their trembling. Willed her heart to stop beating so fast. "She wants to go back to the station for treatment. She plans to tell them that it was a blaster accident." Happiness warmed her from the center out as Scarlett realized she wasn't alone anymore, even as she despised herself for rejoicing Max's survival. "What happened with Garth?"

"I chased him down and shot him with a blaster before he climbed the dune." Max no longer wore the toughsuit, reduced back to Creed's clothes. "The micro-breather was out of air when I turned to come back. I almost passed out, but then I took Garth's canister and it had just enough left to get me back inside."

"That's good, Max." Scarlett kept her tone neutral. It was growing impossible to hate Max, especially after sharing their pain earlier, but actually liking him would be a betrayal to the memory of Nathan.

Max looked at her uncertainly for a moment. "Something on your mind, Scarlett?"

She considered her response and finally spoke her mind. "I will never truly like you, Max, and a part of me will always despise what you've done." Scarlett swallowed the pride creeping up her throat. "But I'm glad you survived. I would rather have you with me than be alone."

His eyes flared and his mouth gaped. "You should hate me, Scarlett. I was a tool and Alderman was the hand that wielded it."

Scarlett shook her head. "No, Max. You had a conscience and you tried to do right. Tools don't fight their owners." She walked over and put a hand on his arm. She hated herself for enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers. "You may be a big fool who doesn't think things through sometimes, but sometimes, you come through." Scarlett realized she was still touching Max and pulled back her hand.

Another memory of him smiling at her sent her heart racing. Max wasn't smiling now, but blinking his eyes in confusion. "It's so weird," he said. "It's almost like—"

"Never you mind, Max." Scarlett felt disgusted with herself for admitting she needed him. "Just be happy you're alive." She hurried back to the ladder and climbed back inside the shelter.

Max followed her up a moment later and looked at the wounded ranger. "So she wants to return to the station."

"Yes." Scarlett set the blaster inside the backpack and tucked away her tangled emotions.

"Well, I reckon we don't have much to lose by letting her," Max said. "Unless she decides to tell security to hunt us down."

"I thought of that," Scarlett said. "Doesn't seem likely she'd involve them now if she didn't earlier."

Max nodded. "Sounds about right."

"The question is, how long will it take her to recover, and what do we do in the meantime?" Scarlett dug into the fridge and pulled out a beer, eager to feel the bite on her tongue. It was the only thing this day that would leave a good taste in her mouth. She held one out to Max who licked his lips in anticipation.

Max held his bottle toward hers. "To surviving one more day."

Scarlett hesitated, then clinked her bottle against his. "One more day."

It was something to be thankful for.

Chapter 36

Max took a shower while Scarlett ate, and then they switched.

Scarlett leaned her head under the shower head and let the soothing hot water run down her body. She found bruises on her legs and arms that she hadn't noticed before, and her bones ached with weariness. This jungle shelter was like a tiny taste of paradise in a hostile world that could consume her in an instant if she wasn't careful.

Closing her eyes, she summoned the memories of Max smiling at her. It seemed like such a simple thing to get all worked up about, but ever since she'd known Max, she'd never seen such a genuine grin on his face. It didn't matter. Scarlett might loathe what he'd done for Alderman, but she also needed him. Besides, he'd proven himself. Going into the red wastes of the kill room to kill Garth was no mean feat.

"Max, we should stay here forever," she said over the rush of water. "Yana can bring us food and beer and it'll be better than City 7 ever was."

Max's laughter boomed from the other room. "You'd kill me before the week was out."

Scarlett chuckled at the truth of it. "There's more than one shelter."

"You can have the one in the swamp," he said.

"I don't think so." She turned off the water and began drying with a towel. "Isn't there a third shelter?"

"Yeah, in the northeast sector." Max could be heard digging in the backpack. "According to the map, it's in a nicer area. Maybe we should check it out tomorrow."

Scarlett wrapped the towel around her and went to the doorway. "Have you given up on climbing the wall?"

Max leaned back in the chair, a beer in hand. He glanced at the sleeping Yana. "She says we can't see anything, so why bother?"

"I think we should at least try." Scarlett went to the closet and took out another set of Yana's clothing—this one similar to the tight outfit the ranger wore.

Max finished his beer and yawned. "Maybe you're right. We might see something she missed." He pointed to a spot of bare floor at the foot of the bed. "I'm going to sleep."

Scarlett claimed the area next to the bed after changing clothes. She folded the towel into a pillow and lay on her back. "Are you awake, Max?"

"Mhm," he grunted.

"This may sound foolish, but I'm a little excited about exploring." She imagined finding the other habitats and the interesting animals inside. "Maybe we can look for other airlocks while Yana is recovering. Then we'll come back and have her show us how to climb the wall."

"Mhm."

"You're certainly talkative."

Only a faint snore answered her.

Yana was already awake when Scarlett got up the next morning. The ranger managed a wan smile.

"Hungry?" Scarlett asked.

Yana shook her head. "I feel nauseated, but I should eat."

Scarlett found a packet of oatmeal and decided it would be the easiest for the ranger to digest. She tore open the self-heating packet and helped Yana sit upright.

"Max and I want to climb the wall," Scarlett said. "When you feel better, will you show us how?"

"Certainly," Yana said. "But if you go a hundred yards further up the trail past the tree I found you near, you'll find a vine-covered tree that reaches as high as the wall. During my second visit, I secured a rope across the remaining yards from the tree's trunk to the wall so you don't have to risk taking the branch across the gap."

Max sat up and broke off a yawn. "How high is the opaque section of glass?"

Yana slowly turned toward him, grimacing in pain. "Fifteen feet."

With a grunt, Max pushed up from the floor and grabbed a meal packet. "There's got to be a way to look over it."

"I'm certain if you could carry a ladder up the tree it's possible," Yana said.

"Are you sure security will believe your story about a blaster accident?" Scarlett asked.

"Creed and I were both injured multiple times by animals and other hazards," the ranger said, "so I don't think they'll take issue with this."

Max swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Can you explain the political situation at the station again?"

Yana took a sip of water and answered. "There is a codex outlining basic rules and granting power to the seven members of the council. Security enforces the will of the council."

"You said no one procreates, that children simply show up," Max said. "If someone doesn't work out for a specific task, what happens to them?"

"People who disobey the rules or do not fit in with their assigned task usually disappear." Yana pushed herself to the edge of the bed, wincing with every move. "In a society so small, no task is unimportant and every position has at least one backup."

"I'll bet the scientists on your council know if there are other habitats," Scarlett said.

Yana nodded. "I cannot disagree."

"How large is your security force?" Max asked.

"We have ten security marshals," Yana said. ""Why?"

"We don't want to be on the run forever." Max glanced at Scarlett and then back to Yana. "Are you okay with your council?"

"I am willing to do whatever I must to preserve this habitat," Yana replied. "While I'm not fond of the science council, I don't see a better way to govern the people."

"Those people who disappear are killed," Scarlett said. "Your council is every bit as bad as our government; they're just stealthier about it."

"Perhaps." Yana tried to stand and sank back onto the bed, groaning in pain.

Scarlett repressed a frustrated huff and bit her tongue before she lambasted the ranger for being a short-sighted idiot. She caught a knowing smirk from Max and couldn't hold back any longer. "What are you looking at?"

"A stubborn person who bulls their way through obstacles." Max tossed an empty meal packet in the bin and turned to Yana. "Could this habitat be run better or more efficiently?"

The ranger flinched as if an idea had slapped her in the face. "Yes, as a matter of fact." She tapped a finger on her chin as she spoke. "For one thing, they've mixed several species of trees in here that don't even belong in a jungle and for another, the swamp portion has no place here. What they need is a marsh."

Yana sighed. "Of course that would take some doing and perhaps construction of another dome. What we should do now is eliminate the boar population since they do far more harm than good, and cull the leopard males since a habitat this size is far too small for six of them. In addition, we need to reduce the goat population by two-thirds before they defoliate the grazing land used by the gazelle."

"Did you take those recommendations to the council?" Max asked.

Yana nodded vigorously. "Of course, but they seem content to ignore the biology and ecosystem texts with better models, and when I recommended we at least cull the boar population, several of them turned me down because it would limit the amount of bacon." She turned a troubled gaze on Max. "As a matter of fact, Creed was hunting boar for them when you encountered him."

Scarlett realized what Max was doing and wanted to be mad that he'd so cleverly found a way to reframe the discussion. Instead, she added a question of her own. "Is there any danger to the habitat if action isn't taken?"

"By my calculations, if they don't follow my recommendations on population control, the goats and boars will irreversibly damage the plant life and throw the ecosystem out of balance." Yana's expression turned glum. "It's almost as if the scientists have no real interest in preserving the habitat."

"Almost like everything is one big experiment?" Max said.

Yana snapped her fingers. "That's precisely it. There's no heart in this, just cold impersonal research."

Scarlett beat Max to the punch. "It's too bad you're not in charge, Yana."

The ranger folded her arms across her chest and winced when her elbow touched the burn. "I see what you did there." Yana bit her lower lip. "Unfortunately, I can't argue with the logic I just laid out with my own tongue."

"Are there others who feel the same way?" Scarlett asked.

"A few, yes." Yana's eyes grew troubled. "What, exactly are you proposing?"

Scarlett turned to Max. "Well, what are we proposing?"

Max leaned his back against the wall. "We need to take control from the science council and establish a government that can't murder its own citizens on a whim."

"How do you propose doing this?" Yana asked. "Do we murder the scientists and security marshals on your whim instead?"

"Are the marshals blindly loyal to the scientists?" Scarlett asked.

"I've never given it much thought." Yana removed the cap from her head and let long black hair fall free. "The marshals are treated nearly as well as the scientists, most likely because they're the ones with the guns."

Max posed another question. "Are the scientists armed?"

"Yes." Yana untangled her hair with her fingers. "The rangers are the only others granted weapons, though we're not allowed to bring them past the weapons lockup at the main entrance."

Scarlett perked up. "At the main entrance, you say?"

"Yes, next to the security station." The ranger tapped her chin. "There are two marshals who guard the entrance and the weapons. I suppose if we wanted to take control of the station, we could catch the guards by surprise and secure them. From there, it would be a matter of finding the other marshals and locking them away as stealthily as possible."

"What's the layout of the station?" Max asked.

"Just inside the main door is the security pod housing the marshals and the weapons lockup." Yana traced a finger on the palm of her hand as if to illustrate. "Past the security pod is the dome—a small one only a few hundred yards in diameter. Apartments for the maintenance workers are just inside and beyond that, a wall separating gardens and housing for the scientists."

Scarlett felt a scowl tug on her mouth. "Sounds like a miniature version of City 7."

"No surprise there," Max said. "The scientists take the best of everything." He turned back to Yana. "How many scientists are there?"

"About thirty." The ranger winced and touched her side. "Your only hope of success is neutralizing the marshals by stealth and then taking the science council by surprise. They live in the largest houses on the other side of the wall."

Max gazed at her intently. "Can we count on you to help us?"

"I can't believe I'm seriously considering this." Yana looked back and forth between Max and Scarlett. "I will only help if you promise to give me full control of eco-planning for the habitat and if you promise to kill only as a last resort."

"Is there a prison facility?" Max asked.

"A small one," Yana said.

Scarlett's doubt swelled. "If we succeed, we'll need room for the science council, scientists, and several marshals. Where are we supposed to put them all?"

"Good question," Max said. "Only Yana can tell us who we might trust and who we absolutely can't."

"This isn't something you can rush into," Yana said. "I'll need time to ask around and build support. That could take months."

"Plus she needs to heal," Scarlett added.

Max swiped a hand through the air. "The one thing we don't have is time—don't you see that?" He reached a hand for Scarlett as if to grip her shoulder but withdrew and leaned back against the wall. "Marshal Garth's suit had a radio which meant he probably checked in with Simmons or Alderman."

A deep chill crawled down Scarlett's back. "Alderman probably knows about the airlock doors and the tunnel."

"Even if Garth didn't have time to radio in about the doors, his disappearance will be enough to raise suspicions," Max said. "We don't have much time before Alderman sends out a larger squad."

A vivid image of security forces from City 7 marching through the tunnel to the habitat flashed through Scarlett's mind. "He might send through an invasion force."

"Enough to take over the jungle science station," Max said. "Once he's done there, it's on to the next dome and the next."

Yana's eyes widened. "You believe Alderman would conquer us?"

"He has weapons and vehicles you wouldn't believe." Scarlett had seen them with her own eyes. "He could storm your facility and take it over easily." She bit the inside of her lip. "If that's the case, Max, why should we bother taking over the station ourselves?"

"So we can have our own army." Max pointed to the window. "We have the advantage of terrain, and if we armed all the maintenance personnel, we'd have a numbers advantage too."

Yana's eyes grew alarmed. "A blaster battle would severely damage the habitat."

"Imagine what Alderman would do to the habitats if allowed to conquer them all." Max's lips pressed into a grim line. "We need a defensive position." He paced away from the wall and looked out of the window. "Granted, we could go to another habitat and try our luck there—just leave this one to fall."

"How certain are you Alderman will send more people?" Yana asked.

Max faced her with a look of stone-cold certainty. "A hundred percent. It's only a question of time. We have to be ready for him when he comes."

With Yana's help, it seemed far more likely their small crew could take control of this habitat, Scarlett thought. Another habitat would reset the variables, introduce new rangers, and new circumstances that would likely be far less favorable to their cause.

"I reckon you're right," Scarlett said. "Instead of accepting that Alderman will come, I think we ought to take some other precautions."

Yana's brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"Disabling the airlocks, for one thing," Scarlett said. "It won't stop him, but it'll put a damper on any invasion plans."

A smile crept onto Max's face. "That's a good idea, Scarlett. I think we should get Yana back to her station and go take care of the airlock right away."

Scarlett didn't betray how pleased she was with the compliment, stiffening her lips into a straight line instead of smiling. "We'd better get moving then. Alderman might have people already on the way."

Max nodded. "Let's go."

They left the shelter, closing it up behind them, and helped the injured ranger walk the perimeter path. Scarlett couldn't help but notice how Yana leaned against Max for support far more than Scarlett.

They stopped just out of sight of the cameras outside the station door. Max put a hand on Yana's shoulder. "Do you think you'll be well enough to come outside and give us an update in a couple of days?"

She nodded. "In two days I will meet you at the tree I climbed to reach the top of the dome wall. If you are unable to stop Alderman from entering the dome, I suggest you escape."

Max's eyebrows climbed. "And leave you behind?"

Yana smiled wearily. "I will find a way out." She pressed a hand to his chest. "Thank you for saving me from Garth, Max."

He pressed his hand over hers. "Be careful."

Scarlett's chest tightened. Since when did these two become so close? "I recall helping a little."

Yana looked at her and nodded. "I will see you in two days. If you don't hear from me in three days, assume the worst and leave the habitat." She took her weight off Max and stood upright. "Until then."

Scarlett and Max watched Yana limp out of sight, then Max rested a hand on Scarlett's shoulder and looked south. "You ready?"

For some reason, the weight of his hand felt pleasant instead of repugnant. Scarlett looked up at him and for the first time saw past the hated shell of Constable Planck and into the man she now thought of as just plain Max. His eyes seemed bright with life, no longer devoid of hope. It was as if he'd suddenly found something to live for, a future he dared to imagine possible.

What frightened Scarlett was her own willingness to believe right along beside him. Damn her tender heart, but she actually felt optimistic about their chances of stopping Alderman and taking over the jungle habitat.

Scarlett pressed a hand to her forehead.

"Feeling all right?" Max asked.

"I must have a fever, Max." Scarlett allowed a small smile to penetrate her wall. "Because I think we might have a chance."

He barked a laugh and his hand tightened on her shoulder. "As long as we believe, we always have a chance."

The grin on his face sparked fire in Scarlett's chest. She felt as if she knew him in a completely different way—not as Constable Planck, but something more. What was wrong with her?

Max cocked his head, a dazed look on his face. He cleared his throat, turned away, and started walking.

Scarlett stared after him for a moment, shook away her confusion, and followed.

Chapter 37

Scarlett and Max reached the airlock and went into the tunnel. Blasters drawn, they jogged until the other door came into sight.

Max was no engineer, but he'd come up with some ideas for disabling the outer door along the way.

"What now?" Scarlett asked.

Max hit the airlock button and watched the door slide open. "There's a maintenance panel inside. I think if I tear out a few wires that'll keep the control panel from working."

Scarlett ducked under the door and walked across the airlock to a panel on the left. "The outside panel is on the other side of that wall."

Max pried open the panel with a knife and found steel conduit inside the wall. He gripped one of the pipes and twisted, but the conduit didn't budge. "It's no good. I need tools."

"I have one," Scarlett tugged on his shirt to get him out of the way.

"You brought tools?" Max jumped back when he saw the tool she meant.

Scarlett's blaster whined and the conduit exploded into a mess of sparking wires. The lights in the airlock flickered and the inner door began to slide shut.

Max grabbed Scarlett's arm and pushed her toward the closing door. "Get out, fast!"

She ducked under the door and Max rolled beneath it after her, just seconds before the door slammed shut. He pushed upright and hit the button on the control panel.

Failure flashed in red letters on the screen and the door remained closed.

Scarlett holstered her blaster and smiled grimly. "I reckon that did the trick."

Max chuckled. "I reckon so, Deputy."

Her dark gaze darted up to his. "Don't call me that again, Max. You're not the constable and I'm not the deputy anymore."

Max backed away from the ferocity in her eyes and held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, Scarlett."

The anger softened to apology. "I don't like thinking of the way we were in City 7, Max."

"We've only been gone from that place for a few days," he said. "We're still the same people."

Scarlett shook her head vehemently. "No, we're not." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "You are not the same."

Max looked down at her finger then into her big liquid eyes. Doubt and hope lingered there, but he wasn't sure if it was about him or the mission that lay ahead. That odd feeling of a memory just out of reach tickled at his brain and just as quickly vanished. No matter the case, it seemed best to keep the peace. "I guess we're jungle people now."

Her finger left his chest and Scarlett started walking down the tunnel. "That's exactly right, Max. Jungle people."

Max caught up to her in a few long strides. "Now that we've got some time to kill, I know what I want to do next."

"Climb the wall," Scarlett said without missing a beat. She holstered her blaster. "That's what I want to do too."

"There must be a way to see over the opaque section," Max said.

"I say we take a look first so we'll know exactly what we're dealing with." Scarlett ran a hand over her blaster.

"Let's not shoot at it," Max said.

A laugh burst from Scarlett—a laugh she quickly extinguished with her hand. "I don't reckon blasting a hole in the dome would do us much good." They reached the door at the end of the tunnel and she hit the button to open it. "You think we should disable this airlock too?"

Max looked back down the tunnel and nodded. "It'd be for the best."

They disabled the door the same way they'd done the other and slipped outside before the outer door shut.

One more obstacle in Alderman's way. Max hoped it would hold.

Scarlett didn't talk much on their way north to the tree, but her wrinkled forehead and concerned eyes made it obvious she had a lot on her mind.

Max felt mixed up inside. After blasting Garth, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his back. He couldn't explain why killing someone made him feel better even if the person in question had been Alderman's favorite marshal. Something about this new environment made the laws he'd grown up with seem obsolete. The jungle didn't have any rules. Killing Garth only seemed to underscore that point.

If Max could kill Garth, it seemed far more likely he could also kill Alderman, Simmons, and the rest of the sick bunch running City 7. Maybe Scarlett was right. Even though it had only been a few days, maybe he was a different person than he'd been in the city. He looked over at Scarlett and wondered if she'd changed much. On the outside, she still looked like the same brooding woman he remembered as his deputy, but she'd shown him the fire beneath her ice.

Max took a crack at breaking the shield Scarlett held firm around her. "I like it when you laugh."

Scarlett's green eyes blazed with surprise. "Max Planck, what in the world are you talking about?"

"Why do you keep everything positive bottled up inside, Scarlett?" Max picked a leaf off a bush on the side of the path and folded it. "You said it yourself—we've changed."

Lips pressed together defiantly, Scarlett stared at Max. "I'm actually starting to like you, and I don't like that a bit."

Max chuckled. "I understand. If holding onto that anger makes you feel better, then you hug it tight and never let go."

Scarlett glared at him. "Maybe I will. There's too much bad blood between us. Too much I can't let go."

Her words were so right they stabbed Max in the chest. "I'm sorry, Scarlett."

She blinked away tears and nodded. "Me too."

They reached the tree moments later and found the vines Yana mentioned. Max stared up the huge trunk and staggered from a sudden wave of vertigo.

"This is one tall tree," Scarlett said. She swallowed hard. "You think we can climb it?"

Max shrugged. "Only one way to find out." He gripped the vine and braced his feet on the tree. Hand-over-hand, feet walking up the trunk, Max climbed to the first branch some thirty feet off the ground and took a much-needed break. He looked down and saw Scarlett red-faced and panting about halfway to the branch.

"You can do it!" he shouted.

"I'm too tired," she said. "My arms hurt so much."

Max shook his head. "Don't you dare give up, Scarlett. You're almost here."

Jaw clenched with pain, Scarlett continued the climb. When she was a few feet away, Max reached down, gripped her forearm, and pulled her up the rest of the way to sit on the branch next to him.

Panting, Scarlett leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "How much further?"

Max looked up. "At least another hundred and fifty feet or so."

She groaned. "Maybe you should go without me."

"From here on up we can use the branches to climb," he said. "It'll be much easier."

Scarlett ran a hand over the thick, rugged bark. "How long do you reckon it takes a tree to grow this large?"

Max hadn't given much thought to it, though it might give a better idea as to the true age of this dome. "Twenty years, maybe more." He shrugged. "I'll bet one of the scientists knows." Max gripped a branch overhead. "You feeling rested at all?"

She nodded. "Just give me a few more minutes."

Thick branches made the climb much easier all the way up until they were nearly at the crown. A long branch protruded over the perimeter path far below, reaching nearly all the way to the wall. Tied to the trunk just above it was the rope Yana had fastened there on her second visit. A metal rod hammered into the concrete anchored it to the wall. Even though the branch looked thick enough to support his weight, Max couldn't imagine actually walking out to the end of it and leaping over to the wall without the aid of the rope.

That ranger is crazy.

"How in the dome did Yana get back over to the branch from the wall?" Scarlett breathed in an amazed voice. "That's at least a four-foot gap."

"She jumped to the wall then jumped back to the branch," Max said.

Scarlett gripped the trunk and shuddered. "That woman is insane."

The tall band of opaque glass Yana had mentioned denied them a view of the outside world, though the clear skies overhead seemed at least a little closer.

Max grabbed the rope and used it to balance himself on the branch. His bowels felt loose and his heart hammered against his chest. He looked down and instantly regretted his decision. Nothing would save him from plunging to his death if he lost his grip. The branch grew thinner near the end, bending beneath his weight so he slung his legs over the rope and inched his way across the remaining divide. Griping the metal anchor, he pulled himself over the lip of the wall.

"I'm coming," Scarlett said in a voice wavering with fright.

Max rolled onto his stomach and peered over the edge at her. "It's not hard, just scary."

Scarlett looked down and squeezed her eyes shut. "I wish I hadn't done that."

"Hold onto the rope and you'll be fine." Max felt frightened for her though he couldn't explain why. The thought of her falling filled him with horrible angst. He motioned her on with his hand. "You can do it."

Maintaining a brave face, Scarlett held onto the rope with white-knuckled intensity and walked along the branch. "It's no higher than Overlook," she murmured. "Not higher at all." Like Max, she had to swing her legs over the rope and pull herself along the last few feet. She gripped the metal anchor with one hand and Max's arm with the other. He pulled her up beside him.

Scarlett gripped his hand painfully tight and remained on her back for a moment. She took a deep breath as if to steel herself and stood. Max rose beside her and took a good look around. The top of the wall was about ten feet from the lip to where the dome rested on it. The glass rose straight up for twenty or thirty feet before its slight arc carried it out over the jungle.

"Wow." Scarlett blew out a breath. "What an amazing view."

Max looked out at the expanse of greenery. Birds flew in the distance and the treetops looked like broccoli tops. A wide, grassy plain to the west offered a small glimpse of the ground. The location of the watering hole was easy to guess thanks to the lack of trees in the middle of the jungle.

Scarlett turned around and ran a hand along the glass. She looked up and grunted. "If only we had a ladder."

"Maybe we could bring lumber up here and build one," Max suggested.

"How many trips up and down the tree would that take?"

Max cringed at the thought of repeating the climb even one more time. "Several." Pulling his own body weight all the way up the tree was difficult enough without adding fifty pounds of wood to it.

"This is odd." Scarlet took her hand from the glass and held it out to Max. "Let me see your knife."

He slid it from the sheath and placed it in her palm. "Do you plan to cut a hole in the glass?"

Scarlett ignored the jibe and scraped the glass with the knife. White particles floated down to the ground where she worked. Max sidled closer and felt his jaw go slack with surprise. The small area she scraped was nearly clear.

"Is it paint?" Max couldn't believe it was so simple.

"Some sort of tough coating," Scarlett said, grunting as she bored down on the blade and worked it back and forth. Within a few minutes, she cleared an inch-wide gap. She handed Max the knife and flexed her hands. "Your turn. I'm tired."

Max took the knife but peeked through the clear glass first. At first, he wasn't sure what it was he saw—hues of orange and sickly green. Then he realized it couldn't be anything else but the true surface of Mars. Off to the right he made out another structure, but he needed to clear more of the opaque coating to be sure. Then he had a better idea and walked back to the edge of the wall.

"What did you see?" Scarlett asked, pressing her face to the glass.

"Not much, but I think I know how to see more." Max looked along the wall and found the black line marking the northernmost point of the wall about a hundred yards distant. "Follow me."

They marched along the wall until he found the line. Max aligned himself with it and paced toward the dome. He scraped the glass and discovered the job of scraping off the coating was tougher than he thought. Soon he'd cleared enough for a peephole and looked through. A long gray corridor of concrete ran through reddish-brown sand to a towering domed structure in the distance.

Scarlett tapped her fingers on the glass impatiently. "Let me look."

Max stepped out of the way and listened to her gasp. "Must be another habitat."

Scarlett held out a hand without relinquishing the view. "Give me the knife."

"Let me do it." He nudged her out of the way and worked on it. They took turns widening the view for more than an hour, leaving a wide window. The dome directly north hid anything that might be on the other side, but it appeared the structures sat on a wide flat plain with mountains standing like black cutouts in the distance.

The sky was green even though it looked blue when looking straight up through the dome above the opaque line.

"The dome must be tinted to make the sky look blue," Scarlett mused as they wondered about it. "Just like the sky on Earth."

"I want to clear a spot to the west," Max said. "I want to see City 7 from outside."

"And east and south," Scarlett said. She looked up at the darkening sky. "Maybe we should start tomorrow, though. It's getting dark."

Max nodded. "Yeah, let's head back before it's too dark to climb down. I don't want to spend the night up here."

A flock of colorful birds gathered in the distance, the concrete stained white by their excrement. Beyond them Max saw the eastern black line.

He and Scarlett made their way back across the rope and down the tree. Descending seemed easier, but no less treacherous than the climb. The prospect of seeing the real outside world and all its mysteries diminished his fear of making the ascent tomorrow.

They went to the northeast shelter instead of the southwest one since it seemed a little closer to the tree, talking excitedly about the adventure they'd take tomorrow.

"It's exciting," Scarlett said, letting a smile light her face. "I feel like one of the pioneers we read about in history."

Max opened the trap door on the shelter and followed Scarlett up inside. "Maybe we should go one step further," he said as an idea came to him. "Maybe we should go into the habitat we saw to the north and take a look around instead of going back up the wall."

Scarlett took two beers from the fridge and handed one to Max then sat down at the table. She didn't think long before replying with a quick nod. "I like that idea."

"I noticed there weren't any tunnels or domes to the east or west of the north dome," Max said. "Maybe it's the only one out that way."

"Could be." Scarlett grabbed a meal packet. "What do you want to eat?"

"Is there a beef stroganoff in there?"

She looked at the labels and slid one across the table to him then peeled open one labeled spaghetti and meatballs. "I've never heard of this one before. I hope it's good."

"So far, none of them have disappointed," Max said, tearing open his and savoring the smell.

The swiftness with which Scarlett devoured hers seemed to indicate it was, indeed, tasty. "It's noodles with tomato sauce and meat," she said between bites. "Why have I never heard of this?"

"Because City 7 gave us shit to eat," Max said.

After a shower, Max settled onto the floor, stomach full and his mind, for once, at ease. Tomorrow they would take another step into the unknown. Tomorrow, they would head north.

Chapter 38

Early the next morning they reached the northern marker. Max pressed his hands along the concrete until a section of it slid up to reveal the hidden control panel.

Scarlett's heart raced as they hiked swiftly down the passage toward the doors nearly a mile distant. "What do you reckon is on the other side?"

Max shrugged. "Desert, or maybe a nice pine forest like the one at the zoo."

"I'd like to see something with huge lakes or an ocean." Ever since seeing dolphins at the zoo, Scarlett dreamed of seeing them in their natural habitat even if this world of domes was anything but natural.

They reached the airlock and went inside. Max held a hand toward the button to open the outer door and hesitated. "What if it's an airless void like outside City 7?"

Scarlett had considered the possibility, but since they had no toughsuits, there was no other way to check the other side without risking themselves. She gripped one of the handles near the door. "Hold on tight and hit the emergency close button if something goes wrong."

Max hooked an arm through the handle and offered a reassuring smile. "Here goes nothing." He hit the button. The door shuddered up, breaking the seal. The air pressure stayed constant, but a freezing wind sent white powder through the crack.

Scarlett leapt back from the substance. Max saw her reaction and burst into laughter as the door opened onto a landscape of pure white. He bent down and picked up a handful of the white stuff, balled it in his hands, and threw it. Scarlett shrieked as the ice-cold stuff pelted her stomach.

"It's snow!" Max said. "Didn't you see the penguin exhibit at the zoo?"

"I don't remember seeing this!" Scarlett shouted. She wanted to be angry, but more than anything she wanted revenge. She raced outside and made a snowball of her own. Max was ready for her throw and ducked. He made another projectile and returned fire.

Scarlett stumbled in a deep drift, taking more snow in her pants than she would have from Max's snowball. She should have been furious at the icy feeling dripping down her backside. Instead, she couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling out. She and Max traded fire. Finally, she landed one right on Max's smug face.

Roaring with laughter, he spread his arms wide and fell over backward into a big soft drift. Giggling, Scarlett walked over and stared down at her conquered foe. "You look like you're buried alive."

Max wiped the snow from his face and grinned up at her. "I'm freezing my ass off, but this is the most fun I've ever had."

Scarlett dropped another snowball on his chest and laughed. "Me too."

Max lies on a grassy field smiling up at her. "Hey, beautiful."

Scarlett blinked and the snow was back.

Confusion spread across Max's face. "You okay?"

A loud grunt drew Scarlett's attention to the left. Thirty yards away, a huge white bear stood on its hind legs staring at her.

"What do you see?" Max struggled upright. His eyes went wide. "That's a snow bear."

Scarlett backed up a step. "Bears are dangerous, right?"

"Maybe." Max got to his feet and walked toward the bear, waving his arms and shouting. The huge beast dropped to all fours and lumbered away at top speed. Max grinned and turned around. "Guess I'm scary."

"Brave or stupid," Scarlett said, and threw another snowball at him. She didn't know what she'd seen a moment ago, but it was obvious the stress of this adventure was messing with her mind.

Though they were freezing, they climbed a nearby hill and surveyed the land. Max's mouth dropped open and he jabbed a finger to the west. "Penguins!"

Sure enough, a colony of small white creatures bobbled around near a large frozen lake a hundred yards away. Scarlett had never seen such strange creatures and instantly wanted to go for a better look. "Are they dangerous?"

Max nodded seriously. "Absolutely deadly, so be careful." He rubbed his arms and shivered. "I just hope we don't freeze to death first."

They ended up not having to go far, finding a group of penguins coming over the next rise as Scarlett and Max began to climb it. One of the creatures flopped on its belly and slid straight down toward them.

Remembering Max's warning, Scarlett dove out of the way of the dangerous bird and began running back the other way. "They're coming for us! Run!"

Max's roaring laughter stopped her cold. She turned around and saw him rubbing the belly of the bird as it wobbled around curiously inspecting the intruder.

"Max Planck, I will bury you in snowballs for this."

He held up his hands in surrender. "I give up."

Scarlett petted the penguin and realized she was cooing over it like a baby. Unfortunately, it was so adorable, she couldn't help herself. Max, at least, didn't poke fun at her for it. The cold, however, was past being unbearable and they beat a retreat back to the still-open airlock door. When at last they emerged back in the jungle, Scarlett felt her body melt with appreciation for the heat.

"Maybe we can find the shelters in that habitat," Max said. "I'll bet they have warm gear for the rangers there." He motioned toward the east. "Let's go find the next airlock."

"How do you reckon they keep it so cold in there?" Scarlett asked as they walked the perimeter path.

"Sarah told me the surface of Mars is already extremely cold." His voice choked up when he said his sister's name, but he seemed to steel himself with a deep breath. "Keeping a habitat cold is probably easy. He waved an arm around the jungle. "Keeping this place hot is the challenge."

"It seems impossible." Scarlett stared up at the huge trees. "Growing this much plant life would take decades."

"Trees like these take decades to grow so tall," Max said. "That probably means the founders built this place a very long time ago."

"Centuries, maybe." Scarlett shuddered. "That means Earth—" the thoughts preceding her words brought more pain than she could have imagined, especially for a home she'd never known.

"We missed that funeral a long time ago." Max's voice was soft, a hint of the same pain Scarlett felt reflected in his tone. "We're Martians now, Scarlett, and that's what we'll always be."

She squeezed the moisture from her eyes with the heels of her hands and nodded. "If we never knew Earth, why does it feel like I lost a friend when I think about its death?"

He put a hand on her arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "Earth is still in our bones, in our blood." Max walked to the edge of the path and picked up a handful of dirt. "Look, we brought it with us. That means we came from the same dust as our ancestors."

Scarlett pressed her hand against the dirt Max held. "Mars is like a surrogate mother."

Max smiled. "Not a father after all."

For one perfect moment, Scarlett held Max's gaze and felt no anger—only the deep flawless peace of two souls looking past the flesh for the first time. Max's eyes widened slightly and Scarlett wondered if he felt it too. All too quickly the moment passed, the souls vanishing back inside the battered flesh that had seen and experienced too much pain to forget for long what this world had done to it.

Max cleared his throat and dropped the dirt. "Let's go see what the west has in store for us."

The western dome held a vast savannah with scrubby trees and an arid climate. Herds of deer-like creatures roamed in the distance and Scarlett spotted a pride of lions lounging in the shade of a tree.

"Look at the dome," Max said. "It has a different shape to it."

It was barely noticeable at first, but Scarlett noticed how distorted the sun looked. "It reminds me of a magnifying glass."

"It's how they focus the sun and make it hotter."

"Why isn't the one in the jungle shaped the same way?" Scarlett asked.

Max shrugged. "Maybe it is, but it's not as pronounced." He plucked a strand of dry grass and motioned back toward the airlock. "Let's head back and go look at the south."

They stopped at the northwest shelter for lunch then trekked to the southern marker. Once again, they found a hidden door, but on the other side of the airlock they found a tunnel with a steel rail hanging from the ceiling. A sign on the wall showed the picture of a box hanging from the rail, and beneath it, simple instructions.

Please use the call button to activate the tram.

Max found a button on the wall and pressed it. A chime sounded, echoing into the distance. Several minutes later, the screech of metal on metal emanated down the tunnel, and a windowed steel box with seats whizzed into the station, slowing to a stop. The doors slid open and Max and Scarlett stepped warily inside. Another button told the tram to go. It whined to full speed and clacked down the rail for what seemed like several miles until it reached a small station at the other end and the door opened.

Scarlett stared back down the dark tunnel. "Why is there a tram for this tunnel but not the others?"

"Wherever it leads is a lot further south than I thought," Max said. "It felt like it turned west a little too."

Gathering her courage, Scarlett activated the airlock door. Whatever waited on the other side was something different than what they'd encountered so far and she didn't know what to expect. Max's eyes betrayed his own apprehension as the inner door clicked shut. He pressed the other button and the pair braced themselves for whatever waited on the other side.

A large sign, the words scorched but still readable greeted them.

Welcome to Utopia! You have earned your reward.

"Utopia?" Max said. "What in the dome is that?"

"I read it in a book once," Scarlett said. "It's supposed to be a perfect place, like paradise."

They stepped around the sign and found hell instead. A forest of blackened trees stretched before them. The scent of old ash and new growth mingled in the air. The forest looked untouched to the west, but torched limbless trees stood sentinel in the east, the ground scarred with gray and black. Beyond the trees, she saw gray line that was too straight to be ash.

Max saw it too. "Is that a road?"

They jogged through the forest, clouds of ash rising at their every step and reached a meadow with new flowers poking through the remains of their charred predecessors. The strip of gray was indeed a road leading south. They didn't need to travel far to see what waited at the other end. Buildings taller than Overlook reached toward the transparent dome overhead and at the center, a shimmering tower that touched the dome at its crest. Unlike the windowless concrete buildings in City 7, these constructs seemed to have nothing but windows along every square inch, many of which were shattered, gaping wounds from whatever calamity had visited this place.

"Looks like there was a war here," Max said. He walked to the road and sat on a bench situated at the end. "What do you reckon happened?"

Scarlett joined him on the bench and stared at the city, unable stop thinking about one thing. "Max, the dome is clear and the center building reaches all the way to the top."

"We could see everything from there." Max jumped to his feet. "Let's go."

The walk held unpleasant surprises in store. Cow skeletons with strips of hide still hanging from the bones littered a field. On the other side of the road stood the shattered remains of a huge house. Destroyed vehicles and skeletal remains of humans lay all around. A stray cow grazed in a field of green untouched by the battle.

"They must have had an insurgency," Max said, drawing the blaster pistol from his holster and holding it at the ready.

Scarlett took note of the positions of the vehicles, some of them facing toward the house while others looked as though they'd been defending it. "I think it was a civil war. It looks like both sides had access to heavy weapons and machinery."

Max peered inside one of the mangled jeeps and pulled a molten blaster from inside. He and Scarlett looked through some of the other vehicles, but the occupants and their belongings had been burned, leaving nothing salvageable behind. The inside of the ranch house lay in shambles, a staircase obliterated by explosion, charred bones and clothes the only remnants of the fighters. Despite the poor state of the house, lights still shone in some of the rooms meaning the electricity in the dome still worked.

Scarlett nearly fell into a gaping hole where once been a family room. Lights flickered in a basement below. A scream ripped from her throat at what she saw in a blackened crater below. Max rushed to her side and gasped as illumination revealed piles of bones. Some were clearly the remains of children killed when the house was attacked.

A strong arm gripped her shoulder and pulled her tight. Scarlett buried her face in Max's chest, breathed in the scent of his sweat and fear, but beneath it, felt the steady reassurance of his strong heart. They might be the only two people living in this entire city. Considering what the inhabitants had done to each other, Scarlett almost preferred it that way.

"Let's go, Deputy." Max helped her up and led her through the blasted wall outside.

"I told you not to call me that anymore." Scarlett almost felt to weary to argue the point. "Let's go to the city."

Max's eyes narrowed and he pointed to a mound of dirt with a skeleton sprawled on the top. "Is that a bladewheel?" He walked over to the base and dusted off a white unit with blasters mounted to the sides of the pedals. "Even this thing is weaponized." He pressed a button on the side and received two red bars on the charge indicator.

"Might be enough to get one person to the city," Scarlett said.

Max walked around the mound and returned with two more bladewheels. "Looks like they rode here on these things." He traced a finger along shiny panels on their hulls. "They use solar energy to recharge. I wondered how it was possible for the batteries to hold energy so long."

Scarlett took one from him and set it on the ground. A tether with a button looked as though it fired the blasters, but they required separate battery packs from the one that powered the motor. She mounted the bladewheel and guided it in a circle in the middle of the road. "Seems to work fine."

Max hopped on his and drew his blaster. "Let's be on the lookout, okay?"

Scarlett readied her weapon and hoped she didn't have to use it. Destroyed vehicles and skeletons littered a path of destruction all the way to the nexus—the dominant structure in the city center. The streets bore whimsical names—Lily Lane, Beaver Run, Yellow Brick Road—completely unlike the generic labeling in City 7.

Max stopped and stared at the grand but battle-scarred sign in the war-torn plaza outside the building.

Utopia City Hall.

Scarlett tried to ignore the gaping holes in the street and square, the stares of empty skulls. The marble statue of a man lay broken near its pedestal. The inscription on its base was stained with blackened blood and scarred by blaster fire: Founder Musk.

Chapter 39

Max gaped at the statue. "Is that one of the founders?"

Scarlett tried to imagine the awful carnage that must have led to this scene and shuddered. "If this is supposed to be a paradise, why did they have weapons? Why did they kill each other?"

"No idea." Max squeezed between concrete barricades at the entrance to the building. "Nothing about this place makes sense."

Scorched red carpets and charred staircases led up to the second floor in the building. Sunlight reached through the glass ceiling far above all the way down the massive atrium. The building seemed to be an empty shell aside from the second-floor offices.

Glass elevators hung in open shafts along the inner walls, their cables reaching toward a platform circling beneath the ceiling. The crushed cage of one elevator had spilled its occupants out on the floor when it had fallen during the conflict.

Max tested the buttons on one of the elevators, but failed to get a response from it. The power in this building appeared to be out. Scarlett paced around the outside of the staircases and found a steel door hidden to the side. She pulled it open and found a stairwell dimly lit by emergency lights.

"Over here," she called and Max soon joined her.

He grunted and started climbing. Scarlett couldn't imagine how many stairs lay between her and the top of this behemoth structure and knew any thought of it would only discourage her, so she followed Max and put one foot in front of the other. They paused for a break on occasion and reached a door at the top over an hour later.

Max opened the door, stepped forward, and yelped. He flung out an arm to keep Scarlett from stepping through the door. "The platform is damaged."

Made of glass ribbed with steel, the platform was already unsettling enough to look at. The gaping hole waiting on the other side of the door made Scarlett dizzy with vertigo. There were no bodies up here, but the damage to the walkway indicated someone must have been up here during the fighting, meaning someone had probably plunged to their death.

A shiver ran through her body and her legs went weak with apprehension.

"Look," Max said, pointing to glass stairs leading to another walkway circling the roof outside. Bracing himself on the door, he edged along the foot of remaining platform at the edge of the hole and made it to an undamaged section.

Scarlett steeled herself and followed him, refusing to look down for fear she'd go weak in the knees and fall. Max gripped her arm and pulled her the rest of the way, and then they climbed the stairs and went outside. The platform crowned the peak of the building. A skeleton with a charred hole in the skull and a blaster near the hand sat outside next to binoculars mounted on a stand.

"I reckon he took a better out than most of those below," Max said. He opened his mouth as if to speak and froze, eyes on the horizon.

Scarlett gazed upon the vista. This building and dome rose higher than any of the other structures, offering a clear view of the massive red plain with black cliffs rising in the distance.

Max pressed his eyes to the binoculars and gasped. Scarlett found another pair on the opposite side of the crown and swiveled them across the horizon. She found the jungle dome to the northeast and the translucent dome of City 7 to the northwest. A breath caught in her throat when she saw tunnels and domes branching off to the west of it, forming a semi-circle that seemed to put Utopia at its center. The only home she'd ever known had more secrets than anyone knew.

All but the last of the other structures bore translucent domes like City 7. The fourth lacked a dome and a gap in the concrete wall indicated it was still under construction. Massive metal towers with hooks dangling from cables stood idle in the midst of the structure and Scarlett wondered where the builders were.

"I count four clear domes like the jungle habitat," Max said. "And another that's only half built."

Scarlett drew back from the binoculars. "Three city domes to the west and northwest and one incomplete."

"Including this place, that makes eight completed domes." Max looked through the binoculars to the west.

"Max, this is the only place with a clear view of everything." Scarlett leaned on the railing and welcomed the rush of dizziness sweeping over her when she looked down. "I think this is where it all started."

"I think you're right." Max joined her at the rail and gazed at the dead city. "Every dome out there, full of scientists experimenting on societies and ecosystems, and they don't even realize they're part of the experiment themselves." He glanced at their long-dead companion. "How long does it take someone to decompose down to the bone?"

"Depends on bacteria and the elements," Scarlett said, borrowing from the textbooks she'd studied to become a deputy. "Could be five to ten years."

Max nodded. "Let's do some detective work."

They returned to the ground floor and walked up the staircase to the offices there, but it was too dark to navigate. They walked around the first floor and found a maintenance room bathed in the dull glow of emergency lighting behind the staircase. Blaster fire had damaged the main electrical panel.

Max pulled off the panel and examined the cables leading into the main switch. "The lead cable is melted." He touched the thick rubber insulation at the top of the cable and jerked back his hand.

"That's a stupid way to see if you'll get shocked," Scarlett said. She pushed him away from it. "I learned a thing or two from maintenance, so let me take a look." The main breaker had switched itself off. She pushed down on it just to be sure. That only meant power to the building wouldn't turn on, but it didn't mean the lead cable wasn't electrified.

Using a piece of flat metal she'd procured from the broken elevator in the lobby Scarlett loosened the clamp holding the broken piece of cable to the main breaker and then knocked it out. Max gripped the insulated part of the lead cable and pulled it down to the clamp so Scarlett could tighten the clamp.

Pale faced and perspiring, Max stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't like playing with live wires."

"Let's hope it's still live," Scarlett said. "Else we'll have to find flashlights." Using a long pipe, she stood back and pushed the breaker, but the switch was too stiff. Max added his might to the effort and the breaker snapped on.

The panel crackled and popped, spitting sparks across the room. Max and Scarlett dove for the door, but when they reached the hallway behind the staircase, cool white light flickered on in the LED bulbs overhead.

Jubilance flushed through Scarlett's body. "We did it!"

Max leaned against a wall, eyes wide. "I thought we were dead for sure."

Scarlett laughed. "Not yet."

They went back to the offices. The mayor's office held a lone occupant in a chair with a blaster burn through the ribcage and out the back of the chair. The computer screen on the desk had a large hole through the center. Max and Scarlett went room by room but all of the computers had been blasted.

The room at the end of the hall marked Operations, was barricaded shut from the inside and three skeletons with blaster burns on them lay outside the door. It appeared they'd been shot from behind while trying to break through the door.

Max knelt and examined the blue uniforms worn by the dead. He tore a patch off the sleeve and fingered a blue symbol with green patterns on it. "I've seen this image somewhere before."

It tickled Scarlett's memory as well, but she couldn't place it. "I saw those patches on some of the bodies inside the ranch."

"The attackers outside wore black uniforms," Max said.

Scarlett closed her eyes and thought back to the horrors she'd seen. "Most of the bodies aren't in uniform at all. I think those people were civilians."

Max slammed his shoulder against the barricaded door. "If we're lucky, the computers inside this room will still work."

"It doesn't appear the attackers made it inside." Scarlett said and raised her blaster. "Stand back."

Max saw the weapon and stepped back. Scarlett blasted the door handle, leaving a blackened hole where it had been, then blew chunks of wood from the hinged side until there was little left of the door but smoking pieces.

"Sometimes you scare me half to death." Max blew out a breath and hauled the remains of the door into the corridor. Two heavy metal cabinets had been shoved over to bar the way. Bracing their backs against one, Max and Scarlett were able to shove it out of the way and enter the room.

Behind a large wooden desk sat another skeleton, the soft light from the computer screen filling the empty eye sockets with light. Scarlett moved the chair out of the way and looked at the icons on the screen. The date and time showed Octavas 23, 2055.

Scarlett returned to the main menu and touched the icon labeled Meta-Operations. An overhead image of the great red plain appeared, dotted with domes.

"They're named." Max jabbed a finger at City 7. "Project Alderman V 7. Project Chatsworth V 4." He looked over the other names. "What does V 7 mean?"

Alderman's words floated through Scarlett's memory. Starting over isn't an option. "City 7 is the seventh version of the city. Alderman and the others said something about starting over. I think they've done that several times."

"Started over?" Max's eyes widened with horror. "He killed everyone and started over?"

"There's no way he could have done that so many times in his lifetime," Scarlett said. "Can you imagine how long it would take to bring everyone to adulthood?"

Max touched the image of City 7 and a long list appeared.

History

Operations

Statistics

Killswitch

"That can't be." Scarlett reached toward the killswitch.

"Stop!" Max's hand flashed out to stop her and bumped her hand into the screen instead. The word flashed red.

Another menu appeared.

Memory wipe

Terminate

Scarlett slapped Max's hand. "For fuck's sake, Max, you could have killed everyone!"

"But you—"

"I wasn't going to touch it." She pointed toward the memory wipe option. "I am tempted to touch that."

"Do it," Max said. "We'll make Alderman and his people forget everything then we can go back and take over City 7."

"Along with everyone else," Scarlett said. Even so, the idea held a certain appeal.

Max looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

Scarlett touched the memory wipe option.

Enter passcode appeared on the screen.

Max groaned. "Should've known it wouldn't be that easy."

After returning to the main screen, Scarlett touched the image of Utopia. An identical menu appeared. This time, Scarlett went to history. The entries were ordered by the newest first, but the last entry dated Primas 11, 2049 summed up the fate of Utopia in two simple words. Killswitch Activated.

Scarlett touched the entry and read the full entry. "By order of Founder Musk, Project Utopia is terminated to prevent Earth Order from discovering and terminating other projects. All personnel are ordered to the bunker until the threat is over."

"Earth Order," Max breathed. "They must be the people who attacked Utopia."

"But how did they get inside?" Scarlett asked. "How did they get here from Earth?"

"Only one way to find out," Max said, pointing at the screen. "We read."

Max found portable tablets that linked to the main computer and located a comfortable seat. While Scarlett discovered the history of Utopia, he delved into City 7. The population of City 7 arrived on Mars in 2016, each member chosen for their own special talents. Alderman led the government, a democracy, in which the citizens were allowed to vote on the direction of the city.

Every citizen was given equal access to education and if they wanted to do something else with their lives, they were allowed to make that choice. It sounded like the perfect society, one Max could only dream of having.

Alderman scrapped the scheme after a year since the workers with the harshest conditions like those in the steamworks went on strike, and other citizen voted to keep them housed and fed even though, as Alderman stated, "Critical operations are going unattended and will lead this city down the path of destruction. Everyone must do their part for the city to survive."

His words went unheeded and Alderman reached out to the founders for guidance. Founder Musk authorized him to try a different form of government, and version two of City 7 was born.

The history read from several perspectives, each one denoted by author name. One of the writers actually lived in City 7 while the others wrote their outside observations. It became apparent to Max that neither Alderman nor his citizens were told about the other habitats or cities and Utopia was held out to them as the Promised Land once Alderman cracked the secret to a perfect society.

Though Max was no expert, it seemed Alderman changed the economic and governmental variables too often to see if they worked. The first general mind wipe was used after version four, a socialist democracy failed. In almost every case where the population was given too much control over government, those at the bottom chose to leave their jobs and go on something called government welfare instead of working.

The history didn't go into details about how the mind wipe worked, simply stating that the population was redirected. Max went to the main menu and found a section on scientific procedures. The section on memory control made his eyes glaze over, but from what he understood, the memories of the people were not erased, but altered slightly to remember history a little differently than what it was.

Cold fear spread through Max's chest. What if everything he remembered was false? He dug through the menus and found what he was looking for under population statistics.

City 7 Citizen Biographies

The names were ordered by last name. He scrolled down and felt some relief to see himself listed as Planck, Max along with his parents and sister. He touched his name to see what secrets might be in store.

Max Planck, born Quartas 7, 2020. Status: First generation Martian.

Father: Rick Planck

Mother: Claire Planck

Siblings: Sarah

Occupation: Constable

Prospects: Possible future leader of Nova City

Max's heart beat a little faster when he read the last sentence. What's Nova City? Going back to the main menu and under operations he found the answer. Nova City was scheduled for completion in 2041, but Utopia had fallen and with it, the engineers and construction crews building it.

Max returned to his bio and read the rest. The historian living in City 7 had taken a special interest in him for some reason, writing extensively about why he thought Max could be the first native Martian to lead a city. Max wondered if the historian was still living in City 7 and if he had any idea Utopia had fallen.

It seemed highly unlikely anyone sending communications to Utopia wouldn't know of its demise unless the historian had an arrangement that didn't allow for two-way communication. The only clue to this historian's identity were the initials, L.B.

Following a hunch, Max went back to the list of citizens and scrolled down. There were over a hundred people with last names starting with B, but only five people with a first name starting with L. One of those hit Max in the gut with certainty.

Lyle Babbage—the reclusive head of Technology Division.

Chapter 40

Max showed Scarlett his discovery. She quickly went to her own bio and read it. It turned out she was not a freezer baby after all, born to Erin Flynn with a twin brother, Nathan. Erin died of complications and Joseph died later that year in an accident.

Status adjusted from orphan to in vitro by order of Administrator Richard Barnes.

"That bastard!" Scarlett slammed a hand on the desk. "Why would he keep this from me?"

"I don't know." Max read through the rest of her bio, including some snide comments from Oswald Simmons. Apparently, the computer systems here mirrored whatever official notations were made to the records in City 7 and the historians annotated them with additional information.

"What makes you think Lyle Babbage worked for Utopia?" Scarlett asked.

"How else would he know about Nova City?" Max sat down and dug through his records. His memories had been adjusted twice to make him remember specific things differently, primarily to do with the government. It amazed him how precisely they controlled him and the other citizens.

Scarlett dropped into the chair next to Max, tears on her cheeks. She gripped his hand and looked at him, eyes filled with pain, but said nothing. Max put his hand over hers and let her have the silence she needed to finally mourn the truth.

"I had living parents, Max." She smiled through the tears. "My brother and I grew in the same womb. We were born, Max." Scarlett laughed with the relief of someone who'd just shed a tremendous weight from their backs. "We were born!"

"Does that make you feel more real?" Max asked.

"I'm not a shadow anymore, Max." Scarlett wiped her eyes and laughed again. "I'm whole."

Max didn't see why being a freezer baby made anyone a shadow or half a person, but he wasn't about to argue the point. He traced a thumb down Scarlett's cheek and caressed the curve of her chin. "I've never seen you as anyone but a whole person, Scarlett. Sometimes you argue enough to be two people."

An uncharacteristic giggle burst from her and she leaned forward abruptly and pressed her lips to Max's. Shock ran through his body. Her mouth could be harsh, but her lips were soft, filling him with heat and desire. Her lips felt so familiar.

But this was Scarlett Flynn, the woman that would never look past what he'd allowed to happen to her brother.

As if they'd both had the thought at the same time, Scarlett and Max pulled away, looking at each other with surprised eyes, but cheeks flushed with need for something more.

Scarlett slapped Max hard enough to make his ears ring.

Max rubbed his cheek. "What was that for?"

"Because I enjoyed that too much, Max."

He stared at her fierce eyes. "Slap yourself next time."

Scarlett smiled. "What would be the fun in that?"

The date on the computer screen added another day to the tally and Max remembered another obligation. "We have to go check on Yana."

"We don't need the jungle station anymore, Max." Scarlett waved a hand around. "We have our own city now."

"How long until Alderman goes searching for us?" Max said. "How long until he finds Utopia on his own and takes over?"

"We can disable the doors to this place. Maybe there are survivors."

Max jabbed a finger at the computer. "If Alderman finds the codes to the killswitch, he could rule every city and habitat. From what I read, the fake Martian landscape was built onto every city as a buffer to keep them separate. I don't think they planned for someone to do what we did with a toughsuit."

"You think Alderman would outfit an army in toughsuits and send them through once he finds out what happened to Garth?" Scarlett stared across the room at the computer screen. "If they didn't want anyone knowing about the other cities, why didn't they camouflage the airlock door leading from City 7?"

"It was one of two things," Max said. "This place is massive. The construction crews might have forgotten to hide the door."

Scarlett leaned forward. What's the second possibility?"

"Sabotage."

"You think someone intentionally revealed the door hoping it would be discovered?"

Max imagined the scenario. "I think Lyle Babbage did it. If he really thought I could lead a new city, he may have done it so Sarah would find it when they fed her to the father. Maybe he set her on the course that got her in trouble."

"And I had to go and ruin it," Scarlett said. Tears pooled in her eyes. "What I did to you and Sarah was unforgivable, Max. You didn't kill my brother—Alderman did."

Max had seen the truth of it, but he didn't blame Scarlett. Before this revelation, all anyone knew was going into the red wastes was a death sentence. Even with oxygen, no one could survive. "I forgive you, Scarlett, and I'll leave it at that."

"Why?" she asked, voice filled with pain. "I don't understand."

"Because I love my sister too much to blame anyone but the monster behind her death." Max hesitated to touch Scarlett's hand but did it anyway. "Alderman killed her. He killed Nathan. Once I figure out how, I aim to kill him."

She remained quiet for a moment then nodded. "You have the right of it, Max. I'll be aiming to kill Alderman right alongside you."

"We need a good plan then."

Scarlett smiled. "You're not much of a thinker Max, so let me help."

The next morning, Max and Scarlett returned to the jungle habitat to wait on Yana. They decided to play it safe and took the perimeter path east, gradually turning north toward the meeting place. As they walked, a stiff breeze stirred the trees and sent a group of monkeys into paroxysms of chatter.

Max remembered the winds just before the dome storms and looked up, expecting rain even though the weather had kept to a schedule during his time here. No rains came during the remainder of their hike north and Max and Scarlett slipped into a hiding spot to wait for Yana.

It wasn't until noon that the ranger finally appeared, face pale, walking gingerly as though in pain.

"She looks awful," Scarlett whispered.

Max put a finger to his lips. He needed to make sure the ranger was alone before approaching. Something seemed off about Yana's face—a slight discoloration of the cheek that hadn't been there the day before. "Look at her cheek."

"I think that's a bruise," Scarlett said. "Someone hit her."

Max had a nasty suspicion about why and motioned Scarlett to follow him. They picked a careful path, avoiding fallen limbs and staying on the harder packed dirt to avoid making noise and circled behind Yana. Just up the perimeter path stood two men in brown lab coats.

"Shit," Scarlett hissed. "They didn't believe her story about the blaster burn."

Max held back a growl of frustration. Everywhere they went, another repressive government waited to end their lives. The smart thing would be to run, but he was done running. "Get your blaster ready," he told Scarlett.

She gripped his forearm. "Are we going to kill them?"

"No." He jabbed a finger at the forest. "I'd bet there are marshals waiting in the jungle near Yana." Max turned his finger toward the lab coats. "Those are probably scientists on the council."

Scarlett drew her weapon. "Hostages."

"Yep." Max pulled his blaster and picked his way toward the unsuspecting men.

"Rumors like this will spread like wildfire," a tall balding man said. "There's a reason only the science council knows the truth."

"We'll have to requisition another ranger," his squat bearded companion said. "They're going to ask questions."

While the scientists talked, Max angled around behind them and pressed a blaster to the temple of the bearded man. "Hello."

The bearded man gasped. His companion went for the blaster at his side, but Scarlett pushed her blaster into his back and took the weapon.

"What are your names?" she asked.

"Who do you think you are?" the tall man said.

"People," Max replied in an even voice. "And that's more than I can say about you, lab coat."

"Names," Scarlett hissed.

"William Bradford," the bearded man said. "He is Thomas Upson."

"How many of your people are in the jungle waiting on us?" Max asked.

"Five—"

Thomas elbowed William. "Shut your mouth!"

Scarlett rapped Thomas on the back of the head with the butt of his blaster. The tall man staggered, tears forming in his eyes. "William, how many?" Max asked again.

The bearded man's eyes filled with absolute fear—something he'd probably never felt in all his years with a buffer of armed guards between him and the people he ruled. "Five security personnel."

"What were their orders?" Scarlett asked.

He gulped. "To apprehend or kill you."

"Are you familiar with Utopia?" Max asked.

Thomas's forehead wrinkled. "How do you know about that?"

"We've been there," Max said.

"Impossible," Thomas shot back. "It hasn't been completed yet."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid it was the first city on Mars."

"No," William said, sounding baffled. "That can't be." He tried to back away, but Max gripped his collar. "They told us once it was finished we could live there and make a perfect society."

"Call back your men and have them disarm." Max worked the muzzle of his blaster against William's temple. "If anything happens, you and Thomas will be the first to die."

Thomas stared into the distance as if lost in thought. Scarlett prodded him. He blinked and looked around like a person waking from a dream. "You're lying. You have to be lying."

"It gets worse," Max said. "Do what I said and we'll show you the truth."

William took a radio from his pocket and spoke into it. "Captain Fulbright, gather the prisoner and return."

"Yes, sir," came the prompt reply.

Max pulled their hostages off the path and hid behind trees until the marshals appeared with Yana in tow. A woman with short cropped hair and a severe expression halted her people on the perimeter path and looked around. Max kept William in front of him and stepped into view of the marshals.

Five blasters shifted his way but Captain Fulbright quickly motioned her people to lower their weapons. "It would seem the prey have us at a disadvantage," she said, looking at Thomas.

"You will disarm," Scarlett said. "Give your weapons to Yana."

"Do as she says," William said, voice quavering.

Yana took possession of the weapons and shoved all but one into a backpack she removed from one of the marshals.

"Now what?" Thomas said. "Do you mean to kill us?"

"Captain Fulbright, are you aware there are domed cities just outside these walls?" Max said.

A bemused wrinkle formed in the marshal's forehead. "Cities? Are you daft?"

"Did you know there are four other habitats?" Scarlett said.

The other marshals exchanged confused glances and murmurs.

"Why are you telling me this?" Fulbright said.

"Because the science council who rules your habitat station has known all along. Because those who know the truth will kill to keep it."

Fulbright's eyes widened and Max quickly realized it wasn't because of what he was saying. Yana angled her weapon to the south as she saw the same thing.

Max turned and felt his stomach sink in horror.

Alderman stood a hundred yards away, twenty marshals, all armed with blaster rifles at his back.

"Who is that?" William asked.

"The leader of City 7," Scarlett said. "He'll kill us all."

Chapter 41

"It's true," Fulbright breathed. Anger glowed in her eyes—anger she turned on Thomas and William. "You never told us about other cities or habitats. Who do you think you are to keep us in the dark?"

"Your leaders!" Thomas shot back. "It was for your own good."

"Ignorance of the people benefits no one but those who want power," Scarlett said. "The reason we were kept in the dark was so Alderman and people like him could rule unquestioned."

"I don't see Simmons with him," Max said. He knew there was only one hope of staying alive. "Fulbright, if I give you back your weapons will you help us fight them?"

The captain nodded. "If we survive, I expect a bloody reckoning after this. You will show me everything."

"You got it," Max said.

Yana stared at the captain. "This woman was prepared to blindly carry out the orders of the science council. What makes you think she can be trusted now?"

"Self-preservation," Scarlett said.

Max tried to form a plan, but he had no experience with war. Every scenario flashing through his head ended with Alderman slaughtering them. The entrance to the science station lay fifty yards south. Alderman's people would cut them down before they reached it.

Max looked at Scarlett and saw a future with her lying dead on the jungle floor—another body claimed by the progress of man. Utopia held plenty of evidence that mankind would never be perfect.

Daggers pierced his chest as Scarlett's death played out in his head. He'd grown too close to her over the past few days. Then again, maybe he'd felt closer to her all these years than he realized. There was something between them he would never be able to discover if she died. It left him with only one option if there was to be any hope of survival.

Max gripped Scarlett's hand. He leaned down and kissed her fiercely. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer. When at last he pulled away he saw tears in her eyes. Max caressed her cheek. "I'd like to finish the journey I started with you, Scarlett Flynn, but I reckon there's only one way to keep you alive."

"Don't you dare do something stupid, Max." Scarlett grabbed his arm. "Don't be a big fool!"

Max chuckled. "I am a big fool, Scarlett. Guess when it comes to you I'll be the biggest fool ever." He gave her his blaster. "Don't follow me."

"What are you planning?" Yana asked.

"I'm sick of seeing death," Max said. "For once in my fucking life I'd like to solve something without anyone dying."

Scarlett's lip trembled and she gave the blasters to Yana. "You're not going without me, Max."

"I want to keep you safe," Max said. "Can't you see that I'm doing this for you?"

She grabbed his hand. "I won't let go, Max. You start walking and I'll be right beside you."

Alderman's forces halted outside the station doors, weapons aimed at Max and Scarlett. Fulbright and her marshals aimed back at him. If fighting broke out, Max and Scarlett would be caught in the middle. Drawing in a deep breath, Max stepped forward, Scarlett by his side.

The leader of City 7 stared at them with a blank expression. Max expected the man to gloat or to say something profound as he often tried to do before sentencing yet another soul to die.

Instead, Alderman simply said, "It was fake."

Max wasn't sure how to reply. "What was?"

"What we thought was the outside," Alderman said. "The space between our dome and the tunnel here. I blew the airlock doors between this place and the jungle once I figured it out. There's no more vacuum."

"That means you can't kill people by sending them out there anymore," Scarlett said. "No more feeding the father."

Max didn't know what was wrong with Alderman, but he saw an opportunity. "We found another city. I want to show it to you."

The governor's eyes tightened. "What do you mean?"

"Utopia," Scarlett said. "The Promised Land."

Alderman stared with disbelief. "It's not finished yet."

"The time for killing is over," Max said. "What we have to show you might convince you of that."

The governor's eyes filled with steel. "We'll see about that."

"I want everyone to come," Max said.

"Who are those people?" Alderman asked.

"The people who run this habitat," Scarlett said.

"Drop your weapons and come with us," Alderman shouted. "I won't repeat myself."

"Do it," Max called back. "We're going to the Promised Land."

Fulbright hesitantly ordered her people to drop their weapons and the group from the science station approached.

Alderman turned to Max. "Lead the way, Constable Planck."

"That's not who I am anymore," Max said. "Live or die, I'm a free man now, not your puppet."

"We'll see about that," Alderman replied.

The group made the trek in mostly uneasy silence, though William and Thomas tried to engage Alderman in conversation as fellow scientists.

"I'm not a scientist," Alderman spat. "I was recruited because I was the fucking mayor of New York City. They told me I'd have full control to create the perfect society."

"They promised us we'd have the power to create the perfect ecology free from the spoils of man," Thomas said. "That we would terraform this world into an unspoiled wilderness."

"Plenty of lying going around," Scarlett said. "Guess keeping the truth from you was just to keep you safe, though, right?"

The irony wasn't lost on Alderman, William, or Thomas.

"I'm sure they had their reasons," Thomas said.

They reached the tram station and everyone climbed onboard. The anticipation even on the faces of the stoic marshals was plain to see. Alderman and the two scientists rode in front, eyes glued to the tunnel ahead.

Scarlett squeezed Max's hand and leaned against his shoulder. "I think Alderman will kill us when he finds out what his perfect city looks like."

"Maybe," Max whispered. "Just be ready to run."

The tram reached the station and Alderman rushed out of the door and past the scorched sign greeting arrivals. When he saw the fatally wounded city he stopped and stared.

"Oh, god," William cried. "What happened?"

"There's information in City Hall," Scarlett said, pointing to the central tower. "From there you can see everything outside the dome."

Alderman began walking. Still prodded forward by guns, the others followed.

"They're all dead," William said as the group passed the skeleton after skeleton.

"Why did they kill each other?" Thomas asked. "I don't understand!"

"Civil war from the looks of it," Fulbright said.

"Some of them are wearing uniforms," one of Alderman's marshals said. "Why would they turn on each other?"

"Mouth shut and eyes forward, Calvin," another marshal said.

Alderman took it all in, but remained silent.

When they reached City Hall, Alderman stopped outside. "Marshal Grim, Marshal Antony, a word." He stepped aside with Grim and Antony and spoke with them a moment then returned. "Marshal Grim will accompany Max and I inside. The rest of you will wait here until I return."

"But, I want to see too," William said.

Alderman turned a stony gaze on him. "You will wait here. My men are under orders to shoot anyone who leaves."

William swallowed hard. "Please, sir."

"There's plenty of food and water," Alderman said to the others. "Marshal Antony, make camp and remember your instructions."

Antony's jaw perceptibly tightened as he nodded.

"You're not leaving me behind," Scarlett said. "I know how to access the information you want."

Alderman replied with a terse nod and headed for City Hall. Grim motioned Max and Scarlett forward with his blaster and they followed him in.

Scarlett and Max showed Alderman the operations room. What Max feared most was the killswitch. What if Alderman found the password for it? Hopefully that information died with everyone else in Utopia.

Alderman noticed Max uneasily looking at the killswitch command and regarded him with a grim smile. "Don't you realize by now I have access to a killswitch in City 7? How do you think I reimaged the population?"

"Reimaged?" Scarlett asked.

"Choosing the memory wipe option merely renders everyone unconscious and puts them into a highly receptive dream state," Alderman said. "There is a special group of scientists constantly working on ways to improve the method, but for now, it requires a tremendous amount of legwork. Every individual must be gathered, evaluated, and placed in pods below science campus where the new truths we wish them to learn are shown repeatedly to them until it overwrites the old memories."

"We read the history of City 7," Max said. "We know about the resets."

"Then you'll know I'm not a complete monster," Alderman said. "I never authorized a complete termination."

"And you never spared a single life you could have either," Scarlett spat. "There's a list of everyone you fed—you killed."

Alderman closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nothing worked. Nothing ever works"—he opened his eyes and scowled—"with humans."

"As if you're not one of us," Scarlett said. "You're every bit as flawed as we are."

"Yes, I am." Alderman turned back to the computer screen and began reading once again. Max busied himself reading more history on the tablets, Scarlett leaning on his shoulder. Marshal Grim leaned against the wall, blaster ready as if he expected an attack from Max at any second.

Hours passed. Max's vision blurred from too much reading and his backside ached from sitting. "Can we take a walk?" he asked Alderman. "I need to stretch and a bathroom break."

The governor looked up at Grim and nodded. "Accompany them, Marshal."

Max and Scarlett went to the bathroom then wandered through the other offices in the building, Grim keeping a silent sentinel behind them.

"What do you think will happen?" Scarlett asked.

Max ran his fingers through her hair, journeying down her pale neck and up to her chin. "Do you still hate me, Scarlett?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a fool, Max Planck, and I was a little fool." Scarlett touched his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "You're a far better man than I thought. Of course I don't hate you anymore."

"There's something so familiar about us." Max traced her lips with his thumb then leaned in and kissed her as the sunrise peaked into the atrium. "All I ask is for more sunrises with you, Scarlett."

Grim groaned. "I think you've walked enough." He waved the carbine toward the second floor. "Back to the office."

Alderman stood at the second floor balcony looking down at them. He walked down the stairs, shoulders sagging, eyes haunted. He stiffened and offered them a smile. "Did you know that once upon a time before the second—or was it the third—reset, that you two requested a marriage license from me?"

Scarlett staggered back. "What?"

Alderman chuckled. "Oh, yes. Before Max Planck was constable, you two were quite smitten with each other."

"You monster!" Scarlett shouted. "How can you erase love?" She threw herself at him, fists pounding his chest.

Grim stood to the side, his jaw working back and forth, then finally stepped forward and pulled Scarlett off the governor. He stared daggers at Alderman and finally said, "Did you erase me too, Governor?"

"No, you were always a loyal marshal," Alderman said. "Very little had to be done to make you accept each new micro-reality."

Grim didn't seem appeased, but neither did he seem ready to commit treason.

Alderman nodded. "Always loyal, Grim. That's why I chose you to come inside with us."

Max didn't like the sound of that at all. Much as he wanted to punch the smug look off Alderman's face, he wrapped an arm around Scarlett and held her close. "How is it possible to change emotions like that?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Hate and love are two sides of the same coin," Alderman said. "It took several hours of reimaging and the death of Nathan Harris to change her love to hate."

"You killed Nathan to make me hate Max?" Scarlett screamed with outrage. "You're worse than a monster, you bastard!"

"Why keep us apart?" Max said. "What made it so important to you?"

"You two were rallying the population—the civvies as you call them—and requesting a special election to unseat me." Alderman shook his head. "I couldn't allow that." He blew out a breath and looked at them. "It appears nothing I did could truly keep you apart."

"Ever since I reached this dome I've been having visions of me and Scarlett." Max's eyes widened. "Are those memories?"

Alderman raised an eyebrow. "The water in City 7 has an agent in it to help keep memories repressed. It seems once you came here, the agent wore off." He nodded. "Yes, I believe those were memories. I wouldn't be surprised if more leak through."

"I've been having them too, Max." Scarlett wiped away a tear. "I didn't understand how I could love and hate you at the same time."

"It was necessary," Alderman said. "Nothing I did would dissuade you, but I was convinced that killing you was the wrong thing to do."

"Because of Lyle Babbage?" Max said.

Alderman's lips tightened. "It seems he was working with the founders and I never knew until I read your biography in the computer."

"Then you saw—"

"Yes, I read the recommendation that you lead Nova City." Alderman face went blank. "Governor Planck."

Max turned to Grim. "How can you follow someone like him? Don't be his puppet!"

"Order is better than chaos, Planck." Marshal Grim trained his weapon on them. "I won't break the order."

"Then you're a fool," Scarlett said, waving her hand around the room at the skeletons. "What good is order if we're all dead?"

Alderman motioned to an elevator glowing with light on the west side of the atrium. "I restored the elevator controls from the computer. Now it's time to see what man has created."

Grim stepped to the side and nodded his head at the elevator.

Holding hands, Max and Scarlett walked across the room and stepped into the elevator. "This might be our last sunrise," Max said.

Scarlett glared with hatred at Alderman and nodded. "I'm taking that bastard with me."

"Deal," Max said. "We all go down."

"In case I don't have another chance to tell you," Scarlett said, "I want to learn to love you again, Max. Maybe a part of me always remembered that no matter how much I was supposed to hate you."

"I want to remember what we had, Scarlett." He kissed her forehead and wished he could do it before they died. "Maybe there's more to this world than cold science after all."

"Like magic?" Alderman said in a scoffing tone. "This is what scientists call coincidence."

Grim jabbed a button. The elevator doors closed and the cage whooshed upward at frightening speed.

"Where's Simmons?" Scarlett asked. "I'm surprised he didn't come with you."

"He is otherwise occupied," Alderman said.

The lift stopped and dinged open to an undamaged section of the glass walkway. Even Grim looked uneasily at the transparent structure before stepping onto it and motioning them out. The group climbed the stairs and exited to the crown outside.

"Wow," Grim said. "Are those other domes?"

Alderman didn't answer, but went to the binoculars and looked around. "It's a shame Nova City wasn't finished," he said without removing his eyes from the binoculars. "It would have been interesting putting Max in charge of an all-Martian population."

Grim looked from Alderman to Max, as if some sort of realization had just hit him.

Alderman spent several more minutes looking through the different binoculars and finally pulled away, face pale. He waved an arm toward the dead city. "Look at all that man has wrought. Look at all he has destroyed." He turned to Max. "Man is the greatest creator and the greatest destroyer of all his good works."

Scarlett tensed. "Be ready," she murmured.

Max saw Grim's hands tighten on the blaster and knew something was coming.

The governor face contorted and tears flowed. "I was promised the path to perfection. I was given control over life and death!" He raised a fist to the sky. "I was a god!" Alderman walked up to Max, rage gathering in his face. "Nothing I did worked. Humanity is too flawed."

"We thrive on order and chaos," Max said. "Without the two we will never advance, never evolve." It felt as though the words he spoke came from an older version of himself, a version long forgotten. "You cannot force perfection, you cannot legislate it, and you cannot induce it by science, Alderman. All you can do is let man tear himself apart and build himself back up until one day he finally evolves to a point where the conflict is no longer needed."

Alderman laughed. "The exact words you told me the day you two came to demand my resignation." The governor gripped Max's shoulder. "I never hated you Max. I never desired to make your life miserable. What I hated is that you were right and I was wrong." His grip tightened. "A good leader has to make hard decisions."

"Killing people who disagree with you is always the wrong decision," Max said.

"Perhaps it is." Alderman offered a tight smile. "Goodbye, Max. Goodbye Scarlett."

Max knew this was the moment, that Grim would raise the blaster and—

Governor Alderman walked away and vanished inside the building.

Max waited for the blasts that would kill them. Instead, Grim lowered his weapon and watched them.

"Well, are you going to kill us?" Max said.

"Quiet," Grim said. He remained that way for several minutes then looked over the side of the building.

Max looked down and saw a lone figure leave the building—Governor Alderman. Instead of heading back to the main group, he turned away and walked into the dead city.

"Where is he going?" Max asked.

Grim holstered his weapon and shook his head. "By order of Governor Alderman, all authority is now transferred to Max Planck." He holstered his weapon on his back. "What are your orders, sir?"

Max was too stunned at first to reply and stared, jaw slack, at the marshal. Scarlett's touch pulled him back to reality. Alderman had given Max and Scarlett what they'd asked for in another life. Max was the new governor.

Excitement and fear knotted his insides. The look on Scarlett's face showed that she shared his apprehension and anticipation.

Max looked warily at the marshal. "This isn't a trick?"

Grim shook his head. "Alderman abdicated."

"I don't understand," Scarlett said. "Why?"

Max thought back to Alderman's last words and the despair in his voice. "Humanity finally broke him."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "We're too deeply flawed."

"Yeah." Max rested his hands on the railing and looked around. "What he could never accept is that imperfection drives us forward toward that impossible goal of perfection."

Scarlett put her hand over his. "What now, Governor?"

Max looked back at Grim. "Let's gather everyone and return to City 7." He waved his arm at Utopia. "We have a city and a future to rebuild."

###

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Demonicus Chapter 1

The last person I expected to see after a nice, relaxing vacation was George Walker.

I nearly dropped my purse at the sight of my enigmatic handler for the Custodians. "What's wrong?" My heart skipped a beat.

"Apologies for catching you so soon after your return, but we need your help, Miss Glass." He motioned toward a sleek black sedan. "If you don't mind, the situation is rather urgent."

Tyler wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "I don't know how you do business in the Custodians, George, but a text or a phone call would have been nice."

"I tried to reach her, but never received a response." George seemed to take no offense to Tyler's stern tone.

"It's okay." I took out my mobile and looked at it. "I put my phone on airplane mode and forgot to switch back to normal."

"What's the emergency?" Tyler asked.

George regarded him calmly. "That's for Miss Glass to know."

Tyler shrugged. "Then tell her. I promise I won't listen."

I held up my hands. "Let us put our luggage away and we'll come, George." I pointed toward his car. "Please go wait there, and I'll be down shortly."

George nodded and walked to the car.

On the way up the elevator, Tyler cornered me with a kiss. "We're not home ten seconds and you're already off on another adventure."

"Indeed." Despite all the intimate time we'd spent on holiday, I could hardly get enough of this lovely man. The thought of taking off on a Custodian mission without him left me feeling empty. "I want you to come."

"Moi?" A corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. "Whatever will your handler say?"

I pecked a kiss on his lips. "Absolutely nothing, if he knows what's good for him."

George raised an eyebrow when the two of us approached his car.

"We're both coming," I said.

George glanced at Tyler. "Mr. Rock isn't a Custodian."

A tall man emerged from the passenger side of the car and narrowed his eyes at Tyler. Mr. Sticks didn't say a word, but it was more than obvious how he felt about me bringing a playdate.

"Does he talk?" Tyler bobbed his head toward Sticks. I had, of course, told Tyler all about the people I'd met during my work with the Custodians, including the ever-silent Mr. Sticks.

George smiled pleasantly. "He communicates if that's what you're asking." He turned to me. "I suppose Mr. Rock may ride along. Are you ready, Miss Glass?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go."

Tyler ran his eyes across the sedan. "What kind of car is this?"

"A custom model," George answered.

Mr. Sticks held open the rear door and motioned me inside. I slid across the seat so Tyler could climb in beside me. The smell of new leather pleased my nose. Once Tyler was seated, George climbed into the driver seat.

Tyler leaned forward. "Who makes your custom models?"

George touched a handle on the steering column. Soundlessly, the car accelerated toward the exit. "This is the latest out of Science Academy."

"Science Academy?"

Mr. Sticks glared over his shoulder at Tyler.

"You really must attend an orientation soon," George said. "It would answer many of your basic questions."

I pulled Tyler next to me. "Let the man drive." My stomach fluttered with anxiety. Since saving Tyler from the Exorcists nearly three months earlier, I hadn't been on any missions for the Custodians. Tyler and I had taken a long overseas vacation to make sure he was safe and to give my sanity a chance to recover.

He ran a hand across the leather and looked around the car, obviously wanting to talk more about it, but finally relaxed and slung an arm over my shoulders. "Sorry, Em. I've just never seen anything like this."

"Boys and their toys." I tried to give him a serious look, but couldn't stop from smiling at his enthusiasm. "I didn't realize demons were into automobiles."

He squeezed me tight. "I acquired the taste from one of my previous hosts."

This turned Sticks's glare toward us once more.

"Perhaps it's best if you don't discuss Mr. Rock's true nature right now," George said amicably. "Mr. Sticks is a stickler when it comes to the rules and is none too happy that I promised to let Mr. Rock be."

"He's really a very nice demon," I told Sticks. "Once you get to know him."

The man shook his head and faced forward.

George pulled into traffic, drove a couple of blocks, and turned into a blind alley I'd seen him use before. Excitement replaced the anxiety. Before I'd discovered the true nature of my work for the Custodians, George had always blindfolded me before we traveled anywhere. Considering how quickly we made it across town, I knew there must be something special about the cars they used.

I wasn't disappointed.

At the press of a button, the outside of the car blurred and faded until it matched our surroundings. George pulled a lever and the car lifted from the ground, rising quickly until we were above the city. I gasped.

Tyler's hand tightened on mine. "I think I'm in love," he said.

The early morning sun hovered behind the Atlanta skyline, dividing the city into shadows crisscrossed with corridors of light. My sense of wonderment fled, replaced with worry gnawing at my insides. I didn't know what prompted this abrupt shift in my emotions. I haven't been on a mission for a while. It's probably just nerves.

"How much do one of these cars cost?" Tyler asked.

George pressed the accelerator and steered the car until the brass compass in the dash pointed north. "They're for official use only, I'm afraid."

"Damn." Tyler braced his elbows on the front seats and peered out of the window, much to the obvious chagrin of Mr. Sticks.

I contented myself to look out to the side as buildings flashed past beneath us. We soon reached a single story office building and circled overhead. A pattern of black lines across the flat roof caught my attention. They resembled burn marks, though they appeared too neat and precise to have been made by a fire. "George, what are we investigating?"

He brought the car in for a landing in a loading zone behind the building. "We received a tip that this place was being used as a cover for illegal vampire operations. We'll pose as customers and go inside while you use your special abilities to sense the truth."

A wave of heat washed across my skin from the direction of the building. I swallowed hard and nodded. "What if they catch on?"

"I have a team on standby." He looked back and smiled. "I don't anticipate any trouble. If you confirm there are vampires, we'll have to be sure they're up to illegal activities before we can raid them."

Tyler's arm tightened around my shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

I melted into his reassuring embrace and just as quickly stiffened when I remembered there were others present. Don't act like a frightened ninny!

George drove the car to the front of the building and pulled into a parking space between two other cars. The warm sensation followed us the entire way, though nobody but me seemed to notice it.

Tyler slid out of the backseat. I followed and stood in the parking lot next to him. It was plain to see through the glass windows that the building lobby was empty. The sign above the door read, Tri-Cross Blood Donations.

Tyler chuckled. "Well, if this isn't the perfect place to run illegal vampire operations, I don't know what is."

"Technically, vampires running a blood bank isn't illegal," George said. "In fact, since vampires aren't supposed to feed directly on noms, something like this is a necessity."

I grimaced. "How awful. They're taking vital blood from normals who might need a transfusion someday."

Sticks didn't frown, which probably meant he agreed with me.

George looked at me. "Do you feel anything, Miss Glass?"

I closed my eyes and opened my senses. I sensed the low simmer of Tyler's presence, and glimpsed the brilliant white energy at the cores of Mr. Sticks and George. The radiating heat from the building intensified. I usually enjoyed warmth, but this sensation brought me no comfort. Instead, it sent chills skittering down my back.

"I don't feel vampiric auras from here," I said. "Just an odd warm feeling."

George nodded. "Let's go inside."

The moment he opened the door, a blast of rancid air hit us in the face. I staggered back, coughing and hacking and spitting. It smelled as though someone had left a truckload of eggs in the hot sun. The only one of us who didn't seem adversely affected was Tyler.

His forehead pinched and his green eyes looked deeply troubled. "This isn't good."

George pressed a handkerchief over his nose. "It's brimstone, isn't it?"

Tyler nodded. "This is the most concentrated I've ever smelled it on the mortal plane."

Mr. Sticks retrieved something from the car trunk and returned with small scraps of cloth. He placed one over his nose. The cloth spread over his nose and mouth and stuck there. George took a scrap and did the same thing. I followed his example. The moment the silky material masked my nostrils, the odor vanished.

Tyler took a scrap but stuck it in his back pocket. "I don't need it."

George raised an eyebrow. "Such high doses of brimstone fumes could harm your lungs, despite your demon soul."

"And it's such a foul odor," I added.

He gave me a hurt look. "I think it smells good." Even so, he put on the mask.

Mr. Sticks and George led the way. George stepped into an empty office in the first hallway. Scattered papers lay on the floor next to the desk. I picked up one of the papers.

I skimmed through it. "This is a shipping order to relocate blood from Los Angeles to Atlanta."

George took the document. "Interesting. This much blood would feed an army of vampires."

Sticks gave him a knowing look.

"An army?" Tyler folded his arms. "Is there something you haven't told us?"

George shook his head. "Suspicions, nothing more." He nodded toward the door. "We should continue."

After the other two men left the office, Tyler took me aside. "I get the feeling he still isn't telling you everything."

"You may be right." I sighed. "It's probably because we haven't taken that orientation yet."

He snorted. "Doubtful." We followed the others.

In the next office, coffee-stained documents littered a desk and the floor. A toppled chair, a broken mobile phone, a trace of blood—each office bore some trace of a struggle or a quick departure.

"Anything yet?" George asked me.

"I'll be sure to let you know the moment I sense anything besides this awful heat." The deeper into the building we went, the stronger the stifling heat pressed against my senses. I was tempted to dampen my sensitivity, but didn't want to miss any vital clues.

We found the body of a young man in the break room, his head tilted at a horrific angle, face terribly bruised.

George knelt next to him and ran a finger along the spine. "Neck's broken."

"Perhaps you could tell me something I didn't know the moment I saw it." I drew in a shuddering breath and took calming breaths.

"Do you sense anything from the body?" George asked.

Swallowing the bile in my throat, I knelt and touched the man's cold skin. "I don't know if my ability works on dead people."

"If he died from a broken neck, there's a good chance he's not a vampire," Tyler said.

"Agreed," George replied. "Still, it never hurts to make sure."

The blinking clock on the microwave caught my attention. I looked at the large watch on the dead man's wrist. The hands were stuck on twelve AM. "Why would this man be here at midnight?"

"True dedication," Tyler said.

George looked at the watch. "Interesting. The watch shows today's date."

I pointed to the microwave. "It looks like the power went out." I opened the microwave door and removed what had once been a frozen meal. "It looks like he was making lunch or supper."

Tyler opened the refrigerator. "I'd guess it was lunch, judging from all the food in here." He pulled several plastic containers marked with names from the fridge. "When did you get the tip about this place?"

George pursed his lips. "This morning."

"Interesting timing, wouldn't you say?"

"It does raise questions." He pulled a wallet from the dead man's pocket and took out the ID. "Not many vampires carry driver's licenses." He held turned it around. "And if they do, they're usually expired."

"They don't drive cars?" I asked.

"Sure, but if they're pulled over, they can compel the police to let them go." He put the wallet into an evidence bag. "Even new vampires can do that to noms." George sighed and touched a cross-shaped pendant on his collar. "All teams move into position and secure this location. We've got at least one corpse on the premises."

A man's voice emanated from the pendant. "Sir, this is Carswell. Do you want my people to sweep for evidence?"

George replied. "Start outside and work your way in."

"Yes, sir."

Sticks stepped into the hallway and stared toward the area we hadn't yet visited. George set the evidence bag next to the corpse and followed Sticks.

Tyler's took my hand and pulled me close. "Are you okay?"

I rolled my eyes and pushed away. "I'm fine. Don't coddle me in front of the others, please."

He grinned. "Don't want to look soft in front of your part-time boss?"

"That, and there's a body in the room." I turned him to face the door. "Now, go."

"As you command."

A set of sturdy double doors guarded the last part of the building. Mr. Sticks tested them but they were locked. He solved the dilemma by spinning on a heel and smashing the door from its hinges with a powerful kick.

Tyler chuckled. "Well, if anyone's still around, they'll know we're here now." His lips curled up. The man always seemed perpetually amused by the world. Sometimes his cavalier attitude really bothered me. Today it boosted my confidence.

He'll protect me. During our long vacation, we'd dedicated an hour or so each day to learning self-defense techniques, though Tyler had taken it to an extreme and taken other martial arts classes. With his superhuman reflexes, it hadn't taken him long to pick up on the basics. I'd dedicated that time to sipping drinks by the beach.

Having encountered a vampire before, I knew there wasn't much I could realistically do to fight one. Even Tyler had barely won the fight with Stephen, a creeptastic vampire who'd nearly killed my best friend Isabel, and then tried to kill me. I'd gotten the last laugh by removing his vampiric abilities with my odd powers.

George flashed Sticks a look. "You really should work on that temper."

Sticks shrugged and went through the open door and into a black room. I followed the others inside.

It was like walking into a sauna, except the heat wasn't physical, but psychic. Grey shadows darker than the pitch black danced before my eyes. I staggered back into the hallway and breathed with relief as the heat abated. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

"You just glimpsed something big, didn't you?" Tyler asked.

George turned around. "Glimpsed?"

Tyler nodded. "Yeah, that's what we call her special talent."

"Apt description." George felt along the wall. Something clicked and the lights flickered on to reveal a sprawling empty warehouse.

My mouth went dry and I wanted to run away screaming at what I saw.

Demonicus Chapter 2

The black shapes I'd seen in the darkness still flitted around the room like leaves in a storm. They had no discernable shapes, but morphed from second to second. None of them looked larger than my hand. Most were like motes of dust. But what truly bothered me were the bodies.

Several slumped figures were bound together in the center of the room. I counted at least six more corpses scattered around the area.

"Jesus." Tyler's voice was rough, all traces of amusement gone.

"We need to make sure they're not alive." I took a step forward, but George quickly barred me with an arm.

"Careful," he said. "We don't know if the runes are still active."

"Runes?"

He pointed down.

A black line was burned into the concrete floor. I followed the line to a circular diagram perhaps four feet across. A body lay in the center of it. The line continued from the other side and ran to yet another diagram, this one identical in size to the first, but with a different pattern. The line ran through several such diagrams, curving in a giant circle, but it didn't stop there. Lines ran from each design and into the center to construct several slightly larger patterns, which encircled a pattern at least three times larger than the others.

Sticks's nostrils flared. He knelt and rolled a silver coin across the floor. Sparks flashed as it intersected the lines of one pattern with a body inside it, but it continued its journey all the way across the room. He rolled several more coins. Electricity arced each time one touched a pattern with a body in it except for the design in the center.

"Me either," George said. "But I think I read about something like this happening several centuries ago."

I narrowed my eyes at Sticks. "How do you hear what he's saying?"

"He said he hasn't seen anything like this." George watched as the last coin reached the other side of the room. "The runes are defused."

"It's a demonicus." Tyler hissed a breath through his teeth. "During my time in Haedaemos, I heard whispers about such a thing, but thought it was impossible to pull off something so complex."

George stepped over the outer line and walked to the nearest body. He knelt and put a hand to the neck. "This man is still alive."

I touched the fallen man. His skin was warm and I felt a pulse, but my insides felt as if someone had vacuumed them out. I didn't sense things about normal people, or if I did, I'd simply grown so accustomed to the sensation I no longer recognized it for something out of the ordinary. This man seemed normal except for the strange empty pit he evoked in my stomach.

Tyler crouched next to a woman. "This one's alive too."

I walked over and touched her. Once again, I felt a gaping void.

Mr. Sticks motioned me over to a young woman in a short skirt and knee-high boots. Her attire was far more stylish than the others'. I touched her. Her skin felt like fabric, but emitted no warmth. Her irregular pulse throbbed against my fingers. Despite the psychic heat in the room, her aura felt cold. Seconds after I touched her, I felt the squirming presence of her vampirism and nearly jerked my hand away.

Vampires unsettled me. Unlike the vampires of myth, I'd learned that the real ones still lived and breathed. I was about to release her when I sensed something else even deeper beneath the curse, which bound her to a life of drinking blood.

She, too, felt empty. I suddenly recognized the missing element. "I've glimpsed something." I rose on shaky knees. Tyler flashed to my side and steadied me. This time, I felt no shame requiring assistance.

George looked concerned. "What is it, Miss Glass?"

"These people aren't alive. Only their bodies are."

Sticks grimaced.

"Exactly," Tyler said, as if the man had spoken. "Their souls are gone."

I noticed employee badges clipped to the shirts of the men. The woman wore one at the waist of her skirt. "These people worked here." I pointed to the young woman. She looked my age, though with vampires, appearances meant little when it came to years. "She is—was—a vampire. I can still feel the aura, but her soul is gone too."

"So this was a front for the vampires." George put a finger to his chin. "It's common practice to hire noms. Vampires can tolerate sunlight to a certain degree, but they are, by nature, nocturnal." He looked at the girl. "She was probably a new convert and, as such, had low social status."

"Whatever you say." Tyler's lips attempted a smile, but faltered. It was obvious whatever had happened here bothered him a lot more than he was letting on.

"Explain this demonicus," George said.

"I don't know much." Tyler ambled toward the center of the room and the bound bodies. "I'm sure you're familiar with the nine circles of Hell."

"I've heard of them, yes." George followed him. "There is a great deal of myth about Haedaemos, but very little in the way of fact."

"There are actually thirteen circles." Tyler grabbed the leg of one of the bound bodies and unceremoniously dragged it to the side. He looked curiously at the man in the center of the bodies. "Hmm, he's got a white robe on."

"So I noticed," George said.

Sticks's gaze hardened as he watched, but he made no move to stop Tyler from moving the bodies. I decided to go check the corpses for auras while Tyler explained.

"Is there a significance to thirteen?" George asked.

Tyler pointed to the pattern in the center of the large diagram where the complex pattern connected to a series of circles with a black one at the very center. "It's all about power. The outer circles are the lesser demons, the masses. The very center represents the most powerful demons."

"Didn't you say your father was one of the powerful ones?" I asked.

"He'd like to think he's the strongest." Tyler chuckled.

"Your father is in the center?" George asked.

Tyler shook his head. "No, that's the Abyss."

"The Abyss?" he glanced at Sticks, but the other man shook his head.

"Abyssal demons are the most powerful, but they're also confined to an eternal prison." Tyler scuffed a shoe over the black circle. "There are rumors the Abyssals were once gods, tricked into creating their own prison."

"There are no gods," George said matter-of-factly. "Only demons and mortals."

A slow, condescending smile spread across Tyler's lips. "George, I'd like to politely point out that you don't know what in the hell you're talking about." He shivered. "Even during my short life I've seen enough to know there's far more to Earth than Eden and Haedaemos. We just haven't found it yet."

Mr. Sticks actually nodded.

George didn't seem to take any offense whatsoever. "Perhaps we should pray we never have to find out. I'm not certain we're equipped to handle anything more than the norm—vampires, Arcanes, lycans, and Daemos."

"Daemos?" Tyler perked with interest. "I always wondered how Baal made them."

"Baal?" I recognized that name from my religious upbringing. "Does he actually exist?"

Tyler managed a wry grin. "Yes, my father the Grand Overlord of Haedaemos."

My mouth dropped open. "Oh, dear. I'm not sure how I'll explain that one to my parents."

A commotion behind us drew our attention. A group of Custodians entered the room and stopped cold at the sight of the demonicus.

"Give us a few moments," George said. "We're still investigating."

"What is this?" asked a short stocky man. "Are these demon summoning runes?"

"Yes, Carswell."

"Sir, protocol dictates we immediately sterilize this room and contact Exorcists."

"I'm well aware of protocol, Carswell, but this is a special case."

The man opened his mouth.

"Carswell, I ordered you to give us a few moments," George said, his voice still every bit as amicable as usual. "If you can't do anything productive in the meantime, perhaps you'd like to go outside and enjoy the spring weather."

Carswell pressed a hand to his chest. "Yes, sir." He turned to his team. "Continue your sweeps outside."

Moments later, the room was empty except for the four of us.

I touched each of the bodies. All wore employee badges, two were vampires, and not a one of them still had a soul. I determined the same thing about the other bodies in the room and relayed the information to George Walker.

"In all my years, I've seen only a couple of cases of missing souls, and those were because of an incubus named Vaedaemos." Geroge cut the rope binding the bodies together. "Daemos can devour souls, but from what I've heard, the victim must agree to it."

Tyler frowned. "That's true for demons too." He shook his head. "It can't be compelled. A person has to truly give up their soul." He ran a hand through his thick hair.

"What about possession?" I asked.

"Those rules are a little easier to work around." Tyler folded his arms. "People who don't care for their bodies typically open themselves up to possession. Sometimes you can tempt your way in."

I repressed a grimace. During our vacation time, Tyler had refused to talk much about his past. What he'd told me before had been couched in generalities, but I knew he'd been a very bad boy.

"I wonder why only one person in the middle had a white robe," Tyler said. "Maybe he was part of a cult."

"Tell me more about this demonicus," George said.

Tyler opened his mouth to speak when the doors at the rear of the warehouse opened and Carswell and his group entered. The moment they stepped across the threshold, sparks flashed across the back wall like a lit fuse, racing all the way to the back right corner of the room. The floor there began to bubble like tar.

"We tripped a ward!" Carswell shouted.

"That was a demon ward," Tyler said. His eyes widened. "I hope to God your people can fight."

"Weapons free," George called.

Carswell and his people drew silver swords and formed a line just as something crawled from the inky mass on the floor.

I gasped as the creature stepped into the light. With at least a dozen legs coated in shiny black chitin, it stood as tall as a Great Dane. Each leg bristled with spiky fur and terminated in pointy spikes that clinked with every step. The monster unleashed a screech that nearly sent my skin crawling off my body.

"Oh, shit." Tyler backed away. "That's a crawler."

It skittered toward Carswell's team.

"A very descriptive name," I said in a dry tone. "What, precisely, does it do besides crawl and turn my knees to jelly?"

"Scuttles, shrieks, and devours souls."

"Can we squash it?" I asked.

"I have a better suggestion." Tyler cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Run!"

"Hold your ground!" Carswell commanded his people. "Prepare to engage with lancers."

The creature closed to within several yards of the Custodians.

Carswell swung forward his arm. "Fire!"

Silver darts whistled through the air and pinged off the crawler's armor.

"You can't kill that thing with darts and swords," Tyler said. "Its armor is too tough."

Sticks removed two short rods from within his suit and raced toward the monster. He leapt, brandished the rods in each hand, and flicked them. They extended to thick staffs, each one with a curving blade at the end. The crawler shrieked and pounced. Sticks whirled his staffs and somehow knocked the creature aside in mid-air.

The crawler's claws scraped across the concrete like nails on a chalkboard, drawing sparks and making the hairs on my head stand on end. Sticks was on the creature almost immediately, staffs blurring, chitin flying as he hacked away at the tough armor.

"He's not going to win," Tyler said.

"Is there anything we can do?" George asked.

Tyler bit his lip. "Crawlers have a soft spot we might be able to exploit, but it'll be tricky."

"Just tell me what to do," George said.

"No." Tyler shook his head. "Let me try." He stepped toward the battle.

I grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy? You don't even have a weapon."

"If this works, I won't need one." He patted my hand. "I'll be fine."

Before I could argue with him, he easily slipped out of my grasp and raced toward Sticks and the crawler.

Unable to simply sit back and watch, I followed.

George moved swiftly to block my path. "Miss Glass, perhaps you should remain here."

"Out of my way." I glared at him.

"Mr. Rock possesses superhuman reflexes, which may preserve his life." He raised an eyebrow. "What if you get in the way and cause him to hesitate at a critical moment?"

I hadn't thought about that. From the way the crawler leapt back and forth like a giant jumping spider, it was likely I would get pounced if I went anywhere near it. "Fine."

"Don't worry. I have Arcanes on the way to help."

"Those are the witches and wizards?" I asked.

He returned a grim smile. "Something like that."

Tyler yelled instructions to Sticks. "Let me lure it away. I'll let it think it has me. When it goes to feed, it'll open its armor and shoot a tube at me. That's when I need you to strike, okay?"

Sticks batted aside a needle-sharp crawler leg, spun, and sliced through the appendage where he'd weakened the chitin. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He glanced at Tyler and nodded.

Tyler shouted and waved at the crawler. Sensing easier prey, it leapt toward him. Rather than fight it, Tyler backed away slowly, like a cornered animal.

I could barely stand to watch. I felt powerless. Hopeless. The man I loved was about to be devoured by a creature of Hell and I had no way of helping him short of discovering a flamethrower.

Tyler tripped and fell backward. The crawler lunged. I screamed.

He rolled side-to-side as the crawler's barbed feet tried to pin him to the ground. The shape of a human face writhed beneath the creature's armor where a spider's head might be. The face stretched into a smile. The chitin split open and a glistening black tube the size of my arm shot toward Tyler's head.

His hands flashed out and caught the protuberance. A round mouth lined with teeth snapped in his face. Tyler squeezed. The face within the monster shrieked in pain. Its front legs stabbed at Tyler. He narrowly dodged the thrusts.

"Now would be a good time, Sticks!" he shouted. Tyler clenched his teeth and squeezed the tube.

The crawler shuddered and screamed in pain.

Sticks flipped over the monster. His eyes locked onto the tender spot and followed up with a lightning thrust. The blade on his staff plunged deep into the opening. The face beneath the crawler's chitin unleashed a deafening shriek. Sticks braced his feet and drove the staff even deeper into the demon.

"Twist it like a blender," Tyler yelled. "Churn its insides like a frozen margarita!"

Sticks moved the staff back and forth like a rower. The other Custodians came up behind the monster and began hacking at its legs. With a final shudder, the crawler collapsed. Tyler rolled free at the last minute, hopped to his feet, and brushed off his hands.

"Anyone have hand sanitizer?" he asked, his wolfish grin back in place.

Carswell took something from a pouch on his belt and sprayed it into my boyfriend's outstretched hands.

"Thanks, man." Tyler rubbed his hands together.

I launched myself at him and squeezed him in a fierce hug. "You crazy asshole!" I backed away and pounded his chest with my fists. "What were you thinking?"

He gripped my wrists and held me at bay. "Obviously, I was thinking about a nice cold drink with the margarita comment." Tyler pecked a kiss on my nose. "You're kind of cute when you're mad, Em."

I blew out a breath. "You're lucky I don't have superhuman strength, or I'd bend you over my knee this minute." I suddenly remembered we weren't alone and felt heat creeping up my face. Thankfully, most of the others were preoccupied looking at the dead crawler.

Sticks turned around and gave Tyler a nod.

"I agree, Mr. Sticks." George looked at the dead crawler and shook his head. "Mr. Rock is no ordinary demon." He tilted his head slightly. "How did you know about the creature's weakness?"

"One of my former acquaintances told me about it," Tyler replied.

"Another demon?"

"Yeah." Tyler's voice lost its excited edge. "There are some people who summon demons and make them fight. He was unfortunate enough to be one of their favorite summons."

"Demonic gladiator matches?" George looked mildly surprised. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"They're more popular than you might think." Tyler shrugged. "You just have to pray your name never ends up in a demonomicon."

"That brings me back to my original question about the demonicus," George said. "What purpose does it serve?"

"The demonomicon is a directory of all known demon names. I heard about it from my former acquaintances. Each demon name is associated with a pattern." Tyler pointed to the different patterns on the floor. "The smaller patterns are lesser demons." He wrinkled his nose. "If they knew my pattern, it would be about that size."

"I'm sure you have a very large pattern," I mumbled.

George cast me a questioning look, but said nothing.

Tyler flashed me a smile, and I abruptly remembered everyone here except me probably had supernatural hearing. My face went hot, but I kept my head up and pretended not to care.

Tyler returned to the patterns, this time pointing out the large one in the middle. "The bigger and more complex the pattern, the more powerful the demon." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm no expert, but the size and complexity of this pattern means someone summoned a demon of epic proportions." He pointed to the soulless bodies. "And it ate all their souls for breakfast."

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Enjoyed this book? Try the Overworld Arcanum Series. Here's a sample from Conrad Edison and the Living Curse.

Conrad Edison Chapter 1

I wondered if this would be the day my parents died.

Their fate loomed, a black cloud on the horizon. I had no love for these people, but death was too awful even for them.

I couldn't remember my real parents, and there seemed little difference between this set of adults ordering me about and the others before them. The only thing they all had in common was they'd either died or suffered another terrible fate on or around my birthday. It was nearly that time of year again, so I reckoned if anything was going to happen, it would be soon.

"We need some bloody eggs, Edward!" Mrs. Cullen glared at her husband. Her small brown eyes narrowed to slits. "That's far more important than you running down to the pub for a pint with the boys."

"I'll get your bloody eggs on the way back." Mr. Cullen, as usual, wasn't swayed by his wife's argument.

I sat in the back seat of the car and watched the two bicker back and forth about when to get the eggs and what other necessities were more important than Mr. Cullen's desire to drink himself into a stupor as he did whenever possible. It was more entertaining than counting the cows we passed in the countryside on our way into town, and more pleasurable than wondering what fate awaited these two. It was also the only thing keeping my mind off the nauseating motion sickness I got when riding in cars.

"I refuse to let you spend all our money on yourself." Mrs. Cullen crossed her arms. "I won't allow it!"

Mr. Cullen growled. "Then come with me, you bleeding twit."

His wife's face darkened. "I'll show you who's a twit." She reared back and punched him in the side of the face.

The car swerved, leaving the country lane and scraping against a stone pasture wall. Mr. Cullen, cursed, jerked the wheel, and brought it back onto the road. His chubby face crimson, he swung a backhand at his wife and popped her in the forehead.

Screeching, Mrs. Cullen clawed at her husband's face. The car swerved back and forth. I gripped the door handle. The oatmeal I'd had for breakfast rose in my throat as the motion sickness worsened.

"Please," was all I managed to say before the urge to throw up nearly overwhelmed me. I pressed the button to roll down the rear window but it wouldn't respond.

"I said stop it!" Mr. Cullen shoved his wife hard. Her head cracked against the window.

She began to wail.

My ears hurt, but the motion of the car steadied. Shuddering, I took deep breaths to calm my stomach and kept my eyes on the road ahead. Something black flashed through the air. It smacked into the windscreen. Blood spattered, thick and gray. I knew it was supposed to look bright red, but I rarely saw anything in color, except for brief flashes.

Mr. Cullen shouted in surprise. He turned on the wipers and cleared the dark liquid. A large crow lay on the hood. It cawed loudly. Its wings fluttered. Then the creature went still.

"Did you see that?" Mr. Cullen said to his wife.

She was still too engrossed in her loud crying to respond.

A bad omen. Today might be the day the Cullens died. It might happen in this very car.

I didn't like watching my parents die. The Hughes had been hit by a London bus only ten feet behind me, giving me quite a shock when I turned around to see what was taking them so long to cross the road. The Smiths had died skydiving when a jumbo jet, miles off course, ran right into them after they deployed their parachutes. The Andersons, a very quiet couple, had abruptly decided to call in a death threat against the Prime Minister and were promptly jailed. The Turners had vanished while out for a walk one evening, never to return.

The closest I'd come to dying had been with the Lewises. I'd lived there with three other foster children at the time. Mrs. Lewis was screaming at us to come down to the kitchen for dinner. Just as me and the other children reached the kitchen door, a freakish flood of water washed it away in a heartbeat, leaving us to stare at the great hollow where it had once been.

Thinking about what lay in store for these people only made me sicker.

I tapped on the window.

Mr. Cullen's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "What do you want?" His voice was angry.

"Window." I didn't dare say more for fear I might throw up.

"What the bloody hell for?"

I made a gagging motion.

He bared his teeth. "Keep it down, you weakling."

Mrs. Cullen abruptly stopped crying. "Is he sick again?"

"What do you think?" Mr. Cullen snorted. "We ended up with the runt of the litter this time."

"Least he don't eat too much," his wife said with a smirk. "And they pay better to watch after this one."

"Now we know why." Mr. Cullen glared at me in the mirror. "He's stupid and weak."

I couldn't disagree. School was very difficult for me. I was awful with math and science and barely able to keep up with language arts. Sports were too much for my body to handle. I bruised easily and bled too much from simple scrapes. Nobody wanted me. Like the Cullens, most of my foster parents did it for the government money.

I normally would look away from Mr. Cullen's angry stare, but unless he wanted me to sick up all over the back seat, he had to stop the car or roll down the window.

"Blast it," he growled and slammed on the brakes.

My head bounced off the back of his seat. I felt a little dribble escape my mouth, but managed to clench it shut. I opened the door, released the seatbelt, and fell onto the grass outside just in time. My breakfast spewed into the ditch. After a few seconds, of heaving, I felt empty. A bell jingled. I looked up and saw a sheep watching me as it chewed a mouthful of light gray grass.

I tried to remember what green looked like. I'd glimpsed it once while out with Cora. Her name brought with it a flash of memories. In my mind, I saw the rosy cheeks, the orange hair she frequently dyed different colors, and her brilliant green eyes. That's how I remember colors.

We stop outside the grocery store. "You're a wonderful boy, Conrad." Cora kisses my cheek.

For the first time, I glimpse her true colors. For the first time, I feel safe.

"Do you remember what to do?" she asks.

I nod.

"Sometimes, good people have to do bad things." She takes my hand and we go inside the store to steal our dinner.

"Baaa," the sheep said, jerking me from the solace of my memories.

Ovis Aries, quadruped, ruminant mammal.

I jerked back. Who said that?

Mr. Cullen got out of the car and glared at me. "Are you finished?" He looked into the rear door and cursed. "You tossed up on the back of the seat!"

Before I could cower, he slapped me on the back of the head. I nearly fell forward into my own sick.

I threw my arms over my head. "I'm sorry!"

"I'd hit you again but then you'd just bleed all over the car." He gripped the back of my shirt and jerked me off the ground. "Get in before I leave your scrawny body in the ditch."

I climbed inside and looked down, praying he'd get back into the driver seat.

He grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face into the stream of vomit on the back of the seat. "Clean it off, boy." He rubbed my head back and forth across the fabric. With one final curse, he shoved me hard back into my seat. "Worthless."

I remained absolutely still and kept my eyes down. Mr. Cullen wasn't as abusive as some I'd known in the past. Humiliating me usually satisfied him. I put my hands under my legs so he wouldn't see my fists tightening. My tiny little pitiful fists. I hid my anger behind downcast eyes. Even if I were stronger, I wouldn't fight back. That would only get me sent back to the orphanage. Anything was better than being back there again, even a little abuse.

"Why didn't you get that dead bird off the hood?" Mrs. Cullen asked as we pulled back onto the road. "It's getting blood all over the paint."

"Because the stupid boy made me forget." Mr. Cullen slapped his hand against the steering wheel. "I'll make him clean it up when we get to town."

I looked at the bird and wondered if strange words would come into my head again. They didn't. I remembered the words clearly. Ovis Aries, quadruped, ruminant mammal. What did they mean? Aries sounded familiar. Mrs. Cullen liked the daily horoscope and I'd heard her mention it before.

"I've never seen a person so useless," she said to her husband. "He's supposed to be nearly twelve, but he looks eight." She turned around and looked at me between the seats. "What did you say happened to your parents?"

I looked down. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Don't know, or won't say?"

"I was a babe when they died."

Mr. Cullen chimed in. "The boy's slow in the head, woman. You're only confusing him."

"Why else do you think they pay extra for his care?" She stared at me for a moment. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the extra headache."

"It's worth the few extra pints it buys us." Mr. Cullen snorted. "And it paid for your hair coloring."

"True." Mrs. Cullen ran a hand through her white hair. "Perhaps we could train him to feed himself so we didn't have to take him everywhere."

"Yeah. Maybe he's smart enough for that at least."

I can feed myself. I wasn't smart, but I wasn't mental. The Lewises used to leave me and the others alone for days. We'd survived on bread, jam, and lots of cheese. Sometimes Mrs. Lewis even left food in the fridge when she and her husband left on their monthly holidays. Apparently, the government money was quite good for four children.

The Cullens had been convinced from day one that I was unable to survive on my own. I would rather be left at their house than forced to sit in the car while they drove around and yelled at each other or left me outside while they went into the pub for hours.

"I say we make him get groceries while we go to the pub," Mrs. Cullen said.

"The boy can't tie his own shoe," her husband replied.

She looked back at me. "He's not that daft."

"I don't trust him with money."

"We don't have to give him money. He can put it on our tab." Mrs. Cullen rubbed her husband's arm. "It'll give us more time in the pub."

"True." Mr. Cullen's dark eyes found me in the mirror. "If you mess this up, boy, I'll make sure you don't ever forget it."

I looked away. "I won't."

A few minutes later, we reached Bedford. Mr. Cullen pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket. He got out and opened the rear door. "Clean off the bird."

I walked around to the hood and looked at the dead animal. A little stream of blood dribbled from its beak and one of its legs was twisted and broken. I felt sorry for it.

"Well, don't just stand there, boy!" Mr. Cullen nudged me with his elbow. "We've got places to be."

With trembling fingers, I reached out and picked up the bird by a claw. Just touching something dead made me want to throw up again. I found a rubbish bin and dropped the bird inside.

Mrs. Cullen got out of the car and gave me a sanitary wipe. "I don't want you touching our food with filthy hands." She inspected me. "Be sure to rinse your face. You've got sick on it."

I nodded. "I will."

She handed me a long grocery list in messy handwriting. "You are to purchase exactly what I listed. Don't you dare get a single thing more." She gripped my chin and forced me to look at her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Mr. Cullen stepped next to her. "We'll be back in an hour or two." He pointed to a nearby bench. "Wait for us there." He pulled back his sleeve and checked a large gaudy watch. Light reflected off the fake diamonds on the band. "Let's go."

Mrs. Cullen touched the watch. "I love how it makes you glitter."

He chuckled. "I reckon most ladies do."

The pair climbed into the car. It puttered away, leaving a trail of dark smoke behind and vanishing around a curve.

I looked at the list. Beer, pork, ice cream, frozen chips, frozen pizza, soda. I couldn't read the next two items. Mrs. Cullen had listed several kinds of pastries and other snacks. She had forgotten to write down eggs. I wondered if I would be in worse trouble if I bought them or didn't buy them. I knew I would be in trouble either way.

There weren't a lot of people in the store. I walked around for several minutes and looked at the shelves. Bags filled with wonderful looking treats lined the aisle. One nice couple I'd lived with had let me have crunchy cheese balls. They upset my stomach, but tasted so good. Corn chips were another snack I'd eaten before.

I found the cookie aisle and walked up and down for several minutes, wishing I could try one of everything. I was tempted to steal something. When I was seven, my fosters at the time, the Taylors, taught me how to nick small items and take them outside to their car while they distracted the store clerks. They even took me to help burgle houses since I was small and could fit through pet doors and small windows.

"Can I help you?" asked a young clerk.

I turned to him. "No thank you, sir." I showed him the paper. "I have a list." He must think I'm trying to steal something.

He smiled. "Any cookies on the list?"

"No, sir. Afraid not."

"Well, let me know if I can help you find anything." He walked away.

I looked at the list again and decided to start collecting the items. Since I knew the Cullens wouldn't be back for a long time, I went very slowly and read the ingredients on some of the packages. Most of the food contained a lot of ingredients with very long names I couldn't pronounce. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

The soda drinks were last on the list. I picked up a pack of Mr. Nutter's Orange Delicious and put it in the cart.

Contains Element ZR Thirty. Boil to powder. Applications include rocketry, explosives, sweetener. This random thought surprised me so much I stumbled backwards and knocked over a display of Mr. Nutter's Angel Biscuits. Where did that thought come from? What was Element ZR Thirty? I realized another patron was staring at me and pushed myself back to my feet. It took several minutes to reorganize the pastries. I noticed angel biscuits were on the list, so I put two bags into the cart.

No more strange words popped into my mind as I finished shopping. By the time I had everything bagged and ready to go, it was dark outside. The clock in the store showed seven in the evening. My stomach rumbled and hurt. I knew I couldn't stand inside for long without looking suspicious so I rolled the cart outside to the bench and sat down.

A few minutes later, it began to rain. I quickly got up and pushed the cart back under the eaves. The plastic bags protected the groceries from the water, but my shirt and hair were wet. I folded my arms tight and shivered. My stomach made a funny noise to remind me how hungry I was. I did my best to ignore the hollow feeling. I'd survived it many times before. It wasn't any different now.

Still, I wished I'd stolen a cookie or two.

The store closed two hours later. The young clerk who'd spoken to me earlier saw me on the way out.

"Where's your parents, lad?"

"They'll be along soon," I said.

He looked at his watch. "You've been out here for two hours. Do you have a phone?"

I shook my head.

"Do they?"

I shrugged. "I think so."

He shook his head. "Bloody wankers." The clerk held up a finger. "I'll be right back."

"Please don't worry." I forced a smile. "I'm fine."

He didn't say anything else and went into the store. A few moments later, he returned with a plastic bag. "There's leftover chicken and bread from the deli inside." He held it out to me. "I know you must be starving."

My smile turned genuine as I took it. "Thank you, sir."

He looked very troubled. "Your parents aren't right in the head leaving you here like this. Are you certain they're okay?"

I nodded. "They went to the pub."

His face darkened. "To the pub?"

"It's okay, sir, really." I didn't want him finding the Cullens. They would be furious with me if he made them come get me. "They probably got a flat tire. I'm certain they'll be along soon."

The clerk ran a hand through his hair. "I hope so, lad." He nodded toward the bag. "Now, eat up. I'd wait with you, but I have to pick up my wife."

"Thank you, sir." The aroma drifting from within the bag made my stomach rumble with anticipation. "I promise I'll be okay."

"I hope so." He gave me one last look and then got into a small car and drove away.

I opened the bag and looked inside. A plate with two legs of chicken, potatoes, and two slices of bread was inside. I removed the food. There was a small paper bag underneath the plate. I sat down on the walkway and put the plate on my crossed legs. I took out the paper bag and looked inside.

Cookies.

Another smile found me. Some people were so nice. This was the most wonderful gift in the entire world. Cookies were like large edible coins you could use to pay for smiles. Perhaps one day I would make my own cookies. I would find people who looked sad and go up to them and say, "Please, don't be sad. Here, have a cookie. It will make you feel better."

The person would smile and the tears would vanish.

I ate the chicken, the potatoes, and the bread, saving the cookies for last. I had the chocolate chip cookie first. A buttersnap and an angel biscuit remained. I decided to eat the buttersnap next. Through the grocery window, I looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven. I didn't care. I still had two cookies.

It was just after two in the morning when I heard the familiar puttering of the Cullens' car. I finished the last morsel of my buttersnap cookie as the auto screeched to a stop in the parking lot. Mr. Cullen staggered out of the car and walked around to open the boot.

"Get the groceries in the car," he said in a slurred voice.

I pushed the cart to the car and put everything inside.

He shut the trunk.

"Did he get eggs?" Mrs. Cullen shouted out of the window.

Mr. Cullen looked at me. "Well, did you?"

I nodded.

"And the bread?"

"Yes, sir."

He made a noise like a horse snorting. "I'll be right back, dear. Got to relieve myself." Mr. Cullen ambled drunkenly around the corner of the store and up to the bushes. He returned a moment later. "Why aren't you in the car yet, boy?"

I hastily climbed into the back.

"How's my little golden goose doing?" Mrs. Cullen said. Her cheeks were very pink and her breath smelled quite fierce.

I decided not to answer. Sometimes when she acted like this it meant she really wanted to pick on me. Since she was drunk, she might find something else to amuse her.

Mr. Cullen dropped into the driver seat. The car rocked back and forth for a moment. He made a horse snort again and reached into his front pocket. "Where the hell are my cigarettes?" He looked around the seat but didn't find them.

"You probably dropped them in the bushes," Mrs. Cullen said.

He looked over his shoulder at me. "Boy, go look for them."

I climbed out of the car and walked to where I'd seen him vanish a moment ago. As I searched, I noticed my shadow dancing on the ground. It was strange because a moment ago there hadn't been any light on the side of the building. I looked back and saw something bright in the night sky. It grew brighter, closer, and larger. It looked like a fiery meteor.

"What are you standing there for, boy!" Mr. Cullen shouted out of the car window. "Find my cigarettes!"

I nodded, but couldn't turn away from the falling star. Windows shattered and the air rumbled as it streaked low over the town. It seemed as if it would fly right over us, but at the last instant, it veered sharply downward. With a horrendous crunch, it smashed into the car. A blast of hot wind knocked me backward into the shrubs.

Bits of metal and glass flew through the air. A tire bounced past. I felt something under my hand and picked it up. It was Mr. Cullen's pack of cigarettes. I stood and walked toward the parking lot. Of the car there was little left except a few stray bits. Primarily, there was a large black crater in the middle of the parking lot.

"Well, I suppose that just happened," I muttered. Today had been the day. I sat down on the walkway, took out my remaining cookie, and nibbled at it.

Conrad Edison Chapter 2

I almost ran away.

Unfortunately, I knew from previous experiences that trying to live on the street would be much worse than living with another foster family. I didn't like the idea of returning to the orphanage, but at least it was safe. Perhaps they'd find me nice people to live with who wouldn't die around my birthday.

Like Cora died.

We walk down the street looking for a new grocery store so we can steal food.

"Stealing isn't right," Cora says. "But when you have nothing, it's sometimes a necessity."

I look up at her and nod. She'd dyed her hair a darker color, but I couldn't tell what it was.

A homeless man begs for coin.

Cora reaches into her small purse and frowns. After a moment, she removes a pound and gives it to the man.

"God bless you, young lady." He tucks away the money.

As we walk away, I say, "I didn't think you had any money."

She smiles. "That was almost the last of it." Cora kneels in front of me. "Always help people if you can, Conrad. Good karma is priceless."

I felt a tear trickle down my face. I balled up on the ground and tried not to cry. Karma had not treated Cora well. She'd died like the rest.

I spent the rest of the night sleeping in a chair at the police station.

"Time to wake up, Conrad."

The familiar voice jerked me awake. I sat up and saw Mr. Goodleigh leaning over me. He smiled pleasantly. I had seen the look enough times to know he was amused. I suspected the misfortunes that found my foster parents entertained him to no end. He was always the one to collect me in the aftermath.

I stood and felt my pocket for the remaining bit of angel biscuit I'd saved for breakfast. It was still there.

"I have finished the paperwork." Mr. Goodleigh motioned toward the exit. "We can go."

I nodded and followed him outside to the old but pristine black car he drove. It looked like a London taxi, but was much larger. I climbed into the back seat and closed the door. Mr. Goodleigh got behind the wheel, started the car, and pulled onto the road.

"Mother will be pleased to see you again," Mr. Goodleigh said. "And just in time for your birthday."

"I will be happy to see her too, Mr. Goodleigh." Due to the bad things that happened to my fosters, I was always at the orphanage for my birthday.

"Tut, tut," he said. "Since your foster parents are dead, Little Angel Orphanage is once again your home. I am no longer Mr. Goodleigh to you."

"Yes, Father."

His gaze met mine in the rear view mirror. I looked down.

"What did I tell you about looking away, Conrad?"

With difficulty, I brought my eyes back up. "To never look away."

"It is a sign of utmost disrespect, son."

"I apologize, Father." I forced myself to look directly at his reflection.

He nodded. "Much better." Mr. Goodleigh began to chant one of his favorite songs as he drove. The words were in a foreign but pleasant-sounding language. I tried to make out the words, but as usual, they slipped away from me no matter how hard I tried to listen.

I fell asleep during the ride as I normally did. It seemed impossible to keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes after Mr. Goodleigh began singing. A bump in the road just outside the main gates woke me as it had many times before. Tall black iron fences connected to thick gray-stoned walls on either side of the road. The wall surrounded the estate.

Brickle Brixworth, a giant of a man, stood on the other side of the gate. He nodded once at the car and, with a mighty tug, pulled open the heavy iron. Brickle was a groundskeeper, a guard, and even a farmer all rolled into one. I'd seen him tending to the animals, weeding the garden, and repairing the house. Once, he'd fended off a burglar by picking him up, carrying him outside, and hurling him over the front gate.

Mr. Goodleigh nodded at the groundskeeper as we drove past. Brickle nodded back. Once we were through, he closed the gates.

The driveway wound through a wide pasture. Horses and cows grazed in the distance. There were sheep on the farm as well, but they were confined to other fields. The tall gray manor appeared in the midst of tall oaks at the end of the gravel drive. It was not a huge building, but contained thirty-three bedrooms and a large nursery in one wing. Chimneys rose from all sides. The building made an L shape where the residential quarters met with a common room connecting to a large kitchen.

Mr. Goodleigh pulled into the cul-de-sac and parked in front of the door. A pleasant looking woman stood on the front steps. As usual, Mrs. Goodleigh styled her hair in a tight bun and wore a dark dress. Mr. Goodleigh exited the car, walked around it, and kissed his wife on the cheek. The pair looked at me expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the car door and climbed out. "Hello, Mother." I dropped to one knee in front of her.

"Hello, Conrad." She held out a fair-skinned hand.

I took it and kissed each knuckle. "I ask permission to return to hearth, home, and kin, Mother and Father."

"With open arms, we welcome you," they said in unison.

I stood. "Thank you."

Mrs. Goodleigh inspected me. "You look no worse for the wear. I suppose that will be less work for the doctor tomorrow."

"As you say, Mother." I was surprised that tomorrow was my birthday. It hardly seemed a year since the last one. The weather didn't seem warm enough for it to be June again already.

"Twelve years old," Mr. Goodleigh said. He shook his head. "Perhaps this time will be the charm."

"Perhaps." Mrs. Goodleigh didn't look convinced. She turned and stepped inside the manor.

I followed them into the empty common room. At this time of afternoon, the other children would probably be doing chores on the farm. I knew not even this day would pass before I was expected to do a share of work. Whether that meant cleaning bathrooms or polishing the wooden floors, I didn't know.

"Your bedroom is ready," Mrs. Goodleigh said to me. "You will find your work clothes in the chest of drawers. Put them on and go to the farm. There is a patch of weeds that needs tending."

I nodded. "Yes, Mother." I walked up the wide wooden staircase to the second floor and followed the hallway to the sixth door on the left. A bare metal bed frame sat in the middle of the small room. I unfolded the worn, striped mattress and struggled to put it on the bed. When it toppled onto the frame, the metal feet shifted a fraction, leaving a tiny scar in the wood.

My stomach tightened in apprehension. Mother would not be happy. I straightened the mattress, looked for the sheets, and found them neatly folded in the closet. I placed them on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Mother said from the door.

Startled, I spun to face her. "Preparing the bed, Mother."

"Is it bed time?"

I almost looked at the floor, but forced my eyes to stay on hers. She despised looking away even more than Mr. Goodleigh. "No, Mother."

Her eyes caught on something and hardened. "You damaged the floor."

"An accident, Mother."

She stepped into the room and approached me until her nose was only inches away. "An accident," she hissed. "What did I tell you to do?"

"Change into work clothes and go to the farm."

"What did you do?"

"I prepared the bed."

Her lips pressed tight. When she spoke, her voice was low and cold. "Nearly twelve years of age and you are still as stupid as the day you arrived here. Are you incapable of learning, or do you simply not care?"

I didn't respond because I knew from experience she didn't want me to answer.

"I believe you are guilty of incompetence and apathy." She turned and walked back to the door. Without turning to face me, she said, "Put on your work clothes and go to the farm. You will be punished tonight." With that, Mrs. Goodleigh left.

I shivered. The room felt cold from her anger. I tried not to think about what form of punishment awaited me. The Goodleighs were very inventive. Sometimes the punishment was psychological. Other times it was painfully physical. They seemed to know what worked best on each child in their care.

After quickly putting on my clothes, I walked as fast as I dared—Mrs. Goodleigh didn't allow running in the house—and left by the back door. I felt cold prickles on the back of my neck and looked over my shoulder at the house. I saw the Goodleighs watching me from a second floor window. Averting my eyes back to the dirt road, I forced myself not to shake.

I always end up back here.

The dirt road led between several wooden buildings. Stands of oaks bordered the area. Between the trees, I saw open pastures where the livestock grazed and wondered how pretty it would look in full color.

The chicken coop stood to my left. Hens pecked in the dirt while a bantam rooster colored with several shades of gray kept a watchful eye. He had long spurs on the backs of his legs and liked nothing better than to fly at anyone who dared come too close to his abode. Gathering eggs required a quick hand and agile reflexes. I had neither, and usually resorted to swinging a metal bucket to keep the vicious cock at bay.

Pigs snorted and rooted in the mud in their pen on the right. They were huge creatures, some of them with long curving tusks like wild boars. Thankfully, their feeding trough was easy enough to reach by standing on the fence. From there, I could pour the slop along the length.

Brickle enjoyed telling new residents a story about a boy who enjoyed snorting and throwing things at the pigs. He would climb atop the fence and antagonize them into a frenzy. One day, he'd fallen in and the pigs had eaten him, bones and all. I didn't know if it was true, but had little doubt the pigs could tear me limb from limb if I did fall into their pen.

The sheep and goat pen, now empty, stood next to the pigpen. I saw William and Stephan mucking it out. Their wheelbarrow held a large pile of dung.

William looked up and saw me. He nudged Stephan. "Hey look, Killer Conrad is back!"

"How did you kill your fosters this time?" Stephan asked. He jabbed his pitchfork into the ground. "Did you stab them?"

William made a whooshing noise. "I'll bet he set them on fire."

Brickle exited the brown barn behind the two boys. "No talking during chores." For someone so large, his high voice always surprised me.

The two boys immediately got back to work, shoveling dung as if their lives depended on it.

I approached Brickle. When I drew near, I stopped and waited.

He looked me up and down. "Still puny." He poked me in the shoulder, nearly knocking me over. "Still weak."

I recovered my balance but said nothing. My fists wanted to clench and my jaw wanted to tighten, but to do so only invited more pushing. Brickle saw such body language as a challenge to his superiority. He enjoyed putting me in my place. I kept my eyes straight ahead and waited.

"The chicken coop." Brickle pointed to the building. "Clean it."

"Yes, sir." I turned and went to the red barn across the dirt road from the brown barn. Though I couldn't see the colors, it was what everyone called them. From inside I took a pitchfork, a small shovel, and a metal bucket. I hoped to slip past the rooster and into the coop so he wouldn't chase me. I could probably close the door, but the fumes inside would quickly overwhelm me without fresh air.

I stepped back outside the red barn and turned toward the chicken coop. The sound of a stomping hoof pulled my attention back in the opposite direction. At the end of the dirt road near the compost pile, I saw the old bull staring me down. What is it doing here? It was either supposed to be in the pasture with the cows, or locked inside its own pen.

Thankfully, the bull had never been aggressive, except for the time William had mistaken it for a cow and tried to milk it. The bull had not taken kindly to the attention.

I wondered if I should notify Brickle. A strange light seemed to dance in the bull's eyes. The animal bellowed loudly and, without further warning, charged me. I froze with shock. Why was it coming for me? What was wrong with him? Dimwitted as I was, even I knew to run from the path of this raging beast. I dropped the tools and pushed against the door to the red barn but it wouldn't budge. I rammed my shoulder against it, but the door didn't move an inch and only made my shoulder ache.

The bull sped past the other outbuildings. I turned toward the sheep pen and ran. I climbed over the fence and ran through the mud toward the opposite side. William and Stephan were gone, perhaps into the brown barn. I went to the barn door and tried to open it, but like the red barn, it was also sealed tight.

I wondered if someone was playing a prank on me, or if this might be my punishment. The Goodleighs had used the farm animals many a time to punish me and the others. I heard a loud cracking of wood and turned as the bull crashed through the fence. I cried out with fright as the beast veered toward me.

Bos Taurus. Temperamental.

"What?" I shouted. The strange thoughts couldn't have distracted me at a worse time. I jumped to the side an instant before the bull gored me. The beast rammed into the side of the brown barn hard enough to make the building shudder. Its thick, curving horns plunged through the wood.

I heard a loud pounding from inside the door of the brown barn and Brickle shouting something. There wasn't time for me to hear what it was, for the bull was already working its horns free.

The manor was too far away. The barns were locked. As a last resort, I might be able to run into the oak trees and dodge around them until the bull tired or help arrived. I turned toward the trees and saw dozens of bovine eyes looking back at me. The cows stood behind the wooden fence. They pushed forward as one. The fence cracked and fell over. The line of cows moved forward in lockstep. With an angry moo, the bull jerked its horns from the barn.

I ran straight across the pen. There was only one force mighty enough to take on the cows. I simply had to hope they didn't eat me before the bull reached me. I climbed the fence and leapt into the pigpen.

A large sow squealed and ran from me, a group of piglets trotting in her wake. A large mound of mud shuddered and rose to reveal a monstrous boar. It snorted and pawed the ground. With a loud squeal, it raced toward me on stubby legs. The bull crashed through the fence behind me. When I turned, I saw its eyes flash bright. I had never seen such a thing. I might have stood and stared, but common sense prevailed.

I ran for the boar. Footing was treacherous in the thick mud. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs wobbled with fright. I felt certain I would die. Why should I care if I die? Nobody else in the world cares. The thought nearly made me pause. Perhaps this was the fate designed for me, crushed between a boar and a bull in a muddy pen. The others would remember me if only for the entertaining story.

Weak as I was in mind and body, my survival instinct proved strong. As the two beasts thundered my way, instinct took control of my legs and leapt me out of the way. The bull and the boar crashed hard into each other with an awful bellowing squeal. Something hit me hard on the back of the head. My face burrowed into the muck and I slid forward several feet.

Strange symbols flashed behind my closed eyelids. I remembered seeing some of them during a math lesson. Others looked completely alien. I might have wondered longer at this strange sight, but my mouth and nose were buried in the mud and I suddenly realized I couldn't breathe. I jerked my face up and spat while scraping the mud from my face. My hands were so muddy it took a little while.

I felt warm liquid mingling with the cool mud. When I finally cleared my eyes, I saw thick crimson blood pooling where I knelt. I turned. The bull and boar lay in a huge heap. Blood poured from the bull's mouth. The boar lay on its side, its mouth hanging open, tongue lolling in the mud.

Red blood? I can see color?

The sow squealed and rooted at the boar. Her piglets danced around her feet, each one trying to reach one of her many nipples. Her skin looked quite pink beneath the coarse hairs on her hide. The oak trees looked bright and full of green leaves. It was as if someone had taken a gray landscape and painted the world.

The herd of cows meandered aimlessly within the pigpen while some of the other swine dashed for freedom through the broken fence.

Suidae suinae sus. Swine. Most notable for bacon.

The strange words I'd been hearing in my head suddenly made sense. They were scientific classifications for animals.

Yes, it's a pig. They are very tasty.

We hadn't learned these classifications in school, so how did I know them? I closed my eyes and saw strings of mathematical symbols flowing like a river of nonsense. The schoolwork at the orphanage was rudimentary, nothing so advanced as this.

I heard the mud sucking at someone's feet. Before I could turn to see who it was, I was lifted by my scruff and jerked into the air. Brickle held me in front of him, face red with anger. It was so interesting seeing the color in his face, I nearly forgot I was in trouble.

The Goodleighs stood on the dirt road outside the pigpen. I could tell by the looks on their faces that the blame for this debacle rested squarely on my shoulders.

My first day back was not going well at all.

But at least I can see in color.

###

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More books by John Corwin:

The Overworld Chronicles:

Sweet Blood of Mine

Dark Light of Mine

Fallen Angel of Mine

Dread Nemesis of Mine

Twisted Sister of Mine

Dearest Mother of Mine

Infernal Father of Mine

Sinister Seraphim of Mine

Wicked War of Mine

Dire Destiny of Ours

Overworld Continuum:

Aetherial Annihilation

Overworld Underground:

Possessed By You

Demonicus

Overworld Arcanum:

Conrad Edison and the Living Curse

Conrad Edison and the Anchored World

Domeworld Saga

Mars Rising

Stand Alone Novels:

No Darker Fate

The Next Thing I Knew

Outsourced

Seventh

Chapter Meet the Author

John Corwin is the bestselling author of the Overworld Chronicles. He enjoys long walks on the beach and is a firm believer in puppies and kittens.

After years of getting into trouble thanks to his overactive imagination, John abandoned his male modeling career to write books.

He resides in Atlanta.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Demonicus Chapter 1

Demonicus Chapter 2

Conrad Edison Chapter 1

Conrad Edison Chapter 2

Chapter Meet the Author