“I was sort of hoping for a rainbow,” I say.
He stops dead and shoots me an incredulous look. “Those are frexing real?”
I laugh. “Of course they are!”
Elder shakes his head, as if trying to make the idea of colors arching across the sky stick in his brain.
Up here on the second level of buildings, it almost feels as if we have a semblance of privacy. The rain has brought not just cooler air, but also a sheen of freshness to the whole world.
And insects.
I swat at a gnat—or something very like a gnat—buzzing around my face, then notice a subtle humming made by the bugs nearby. I wander along the wall of the building and find a tree, like the ones in the forest but smaller, with a swarm of gnat-like bugs hovering over beautiful, delicate purple flowers dripping from the tree branches.
I reach out to touch the petals, but then a screech cuts through the air—a high-pitched scream that fades to silence, then circles back around. I pull my hand back, instinctively wanting to protect myself even though I know I can’t.
“What was that?” Elder asks in a low voice, but we both know what it was. We scan the skies but see nothing. Elder steps closer to the sprawling tree. “I think . . . I think these flowers came from that stringy stuff that was on the trees earlier. ”
He’s right—the purple Spanish-moss-like plants that clung to the trees are the same shade as the flower petals, a delicate lilac on the edges that sinks to deep purple in the center. A few tendrils of the moss haven’t blossomed, but most have unraveled, twirling into paper-thin, almost-translucent flowers. “They’re lovely,” I breathe.
“You like the flowers?” Elder asks, a wry smile on his lips. Before I can respond, he reaches up and plucks one from the branches of the closest tree. “Here you go. Least I could do, after I made such a mess of the last time I brought you flowers. ”
I look at him curiously—when did he last bring me flowers?—and then I bend my face down to breathe in the intoxicating sticky-sweet scent of the flower.
I smile. “It reminds me of—”
My body goes numb.
My eyes are still open as I fall. The ground rushes toward me, but I cannot put my hands down to protect my face, I cannot tense as my body impacts against the ground.
I feel nothing.
My eyes are still open as I lie, facedown, in a pool of muddy rainwater. I can see swirls of dirt and brown. Something sticks to my eyes, and some reflex takes over as my eyelids flutter shut.
Water seeps into my slightly open mouth and up my nose and trickles into one ear.
I try to shout, I try to move, but I can’t, and it’s just like when I was frozen, and I’m trapped again, and I can’t move, I can’t, I can’t, and I have to breathe, I have to breathe, but there’s no air, just water, and I am screaming inside my head to not breathe but the only things that work are my involuntary functions like my heart that’s beating too fast and my lungs that have to breathe.
And then there’s air.
And then there’s nothing.
18: ELDER
Amy’s voice drops off suddenly. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she falls to the ground, limp. For one moment I watch with horror as she lies facedown in a puddle. Little bubbles burst on the puddle’s surface, then the thin layer of water is still.
“Amy?” I say, dropping to my knees beside her. “Amy!”
I roll her out of the water and swipe the water off her face. “Amy?” I shake her shoulders, but her head lolls lifelessly. “AMY!”
Nothing. Dirty water dribbles out of her mouth. I push against her chest, and more water leaks out, but she doesn’t move. Her breathing is shallow but steady. Carefully, I peel back her eyelids. No response.
My heart’s racing, my ears are ringing. What happened? Is she—
I press my head against her chest. No. Thank the stars, no. She has a heartbeat.
Frex! What should I do?
I scoop Amy up in my arms. I need help. Now.