Ruins

Kira ignored him, desperate to make sure Armin saw her. She gritted her teeth and charged into the swirling cloud of debris, deafened by the noise of the engines. A spotlight flared to life, probing the ground before quickly settling on her. Her arm shielded her face from the glare and the debris, but this was what she was here for. She needed him to see her, to come closer so the others could catch him. She closed her eyes and pulled her arms away, baring her face to the spotlight. Dust and ice swirled around her, stinging her face; her hair whipped frantically in the wind. The rotor hovered in place, the light streaming down, studying her, until suddenly a powerful burst of wind threw her to the ground, and she shielded her eyes as she watched the rotor lift up again into the sky.

He left. . . .

“It’s going south now,” said Heron, helping her to her feet. “Out over the beach.”

“There’s nobody there at night,” said Kira. “They stop the boats at nightfall because they can’t see to navigate—the whole Last Fleet is sunk out there; it’s too treacherous.”

“Maybe he saw the army coming,” said Heron.

“Or he saw the fires across the bay,” said Ritter, watching the sky. “He’s past the beach and still going.”

“He’ll slaughter the survivors who’ve crossed already,” said Kira.

Haru trudged toward them through the snow, flanked by a trio of guards. His face was grim. “The rotor was a distraction,” he said tiredly. “A group of infiltrators sneaked into the eastern edge of the camp on foot and killed seven people. Maybe more—the reports are still coming in.”

“Damn it!” screamed Kira. Armin, you bastard. . . .

Haru closed his eyes, rubbing them in exhaustion. “We’ve roused the camp and put everyone on alert, but there’s not much we can do: Our food’s almost gone, we have ten more cases of hypothermia, and now the Partial army’s barely three miles away. A Blood Man stealing seven people here and there is almost a minor problem, relatively.”

“I also have a hangnail,” said Marcus, holding up his finger. “Just so we can keep the scale of major to minor in perspective.”

Kira nodded, breathing deep, trying to think. “Someone has to talk to the Partial army. To whoever’s leading it.”

“Anyone who tries will be shot on sight,” said Heron.

“Or imprisoned at the very least,” said Haru. “Convincing them they want peace instead of revenge will be virtually impossible.”

“Virtually,” said Kira, “but not completely. Tomorrow morning I’ll go over there, under a flag of truce, and give myself up. It’s the only way.”

“You’ll die,” said Heron.

“Samm didn’t think so,” said Kira.

“Samm is a fool,” said Heron. “The best we can hope for is . . .” She stopped suddenly, looking around at their group: Ritter, Haru, Marcus, Phan. “Where’s Samm?”

Kira scanned the snowy shadows wildly, looking for his face, trying to feel him on the link. He was nowhere. “You don’t think he . . .”

“Damn you,” said Heron. Rage scorched the link, and she turned toward Kira with a terrifying snarl. “You did this!”

“He’s gone to talk to the Partials?” asked Marcus.

“I never told him to do that,” said Kira, “I would never ask him to do that—I was going to go myself—”

“Of course you were going to go yourself!” Heron roared. “That’s all you ever do: You throw yourself right in the path of the nearest, deadliest problem you can find, and he knew you were going to do it, so now he’s gone to do it himself.”

“He’s trying to save us,” said Kira.

“He’s trying to save you,” said Heron. “And he’s going to get himself killed in the process.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

“Three hundred and seventeen prisoners, General.” Shon’s aide saluted, and Shon acknowledged him wearily.

“And the trucks?” asked Shon. “We’ll need to resupply before the next assault.”

“They should be here tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” said Shon. He blew out a long, slow breath. “Five thousand of our soldiers may be dead by tomorrow, and certainly by the day after.”

“The rest of us will avenge their deaths,” said the aide.