That’s when I realize we’re standing at the edge of a precipice. The ground disappears into nothingness, and at the bottom, mud and debris.
“A mudslide,” Griffin explains. “The recent heavy rains must have detached the soil from the mountain.”
He’s right. My eyes can trace the path the mudflow took over the slope.
“Poor souls,” Helios.
I look down, following the direction of his gaze. The wave of soil and debris caught a cabin on the way. People still lived here a few days ago. The vultures are circling in the sky above the end of the mudslide, where the bodies must be rotting under the sun, half buried.
“Do you think there are survivors?” Helios asks.
Griffin shakes his head. “Doubt it.”
Panic rises from my core, unexpected and violent. I hyperventilate in a matter of seconds, and my vision darkens.Memories flood my mind. Visions of rain and the ground giving under the RV. The sensation of falling,falling… as the sinkhole swallowed us.
I’d been sitting on the roof of the RV that day. We all took turns watching the sky, not to get surprised by an old god. But the threat hadn’t come from the sky or the horizon. It came from below us. My parents had been at the front; my siblings at the back on the beds.
“Perri?” someone says. I think it’s Helios. I must have fallen to my knees; the grass caresses my calves. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
But then Griffin appears in front of me, his red eyes boring into mine. “His pupils are dilated.” His hands appear on my shoulders. “I think he’s having a panic attack.”
Stellan. I wish Stellan were here. Tears stream down my face.
Beet’s voice comes out muted from their wristbands.“Bring him back inside.”
Griffin hoists me into his arms. He smells wrong—smoky. It’s not unpleasant, but he’s not Stellan.
They wrap me in a blanket on the couch, and Helios lulls me into comfort with his voice and gentle hands.
I’m ashamed. I really make a poor adventurer.
And yet, I still find the courage to ask, “Please… can you check for survivors?”
Griffin looks at me for a moment, then nods. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
If someone is alive, a prisoner of the drying mud, they deserve to be rescued.
“Fuck… I’m sorry…” I sob.
“Shhhh… it’s okay,” says Helios. “Everything’s fine. Just relax.”
But it’s not fine. The sinkhole is under our feet, ready to swallow us like an hungry maw.
10
The forest of giants.
“The Traveling Market tried democracy. A few years after it was created, its four founders—engineers who worked on the three RWE baggers before the Rise—decided to cast votes and created a council. After all, the market functioned with the help of so many people. It was a team effort. But the Traveling Market isn’t land. It is a combination of three incredible vehicles. It cannot be divided into fiefdoms, where owners decide at their leisure what to do. Decisions needed to be made quickly and efficiently. After a few close calls threatening the destruction of the Traveling Market, the original engineers took control again. During those days, they were the ones who could operate the Market. Years passed, and a supreme authority became a necessity.”
Extract fromThe Traveling Market and its Kingby Nolan Sigmond, published in 2062.
STELLAN
“Shit. How can anything be this big?” I say, eyes on the giant trees reigning over the forest. “It’s unnatural.”
Alastair laughs quietly. “We live in a world where old gods walk the earth, and you draw the line at enormous trees?”
We’re following the road going deeper into what used to be the Sequioa National Park. Of all the places my mothers could have chosen for their new settlement, of course, it had to be extreme.
