“Probably,” Natalie said. “It’s not like these clothes go with you, right?”
“Fantastic,” I mumbled. “Good times.”
Beside me, Thad laughed.
Jason was quiet. It was too close to zero hour for him to chat. The sun was high, and my gut tingled with an awareness of noon.
I’d had six days to refine this tingle. When we’d left the City, we’d headed southeast, hoping to intercept gates. We were operating under the assumption that gates flashed on latitudinal lines, then ran north, longitudinally. Yesterday we’d finally spotted one in the southern black lava field: a single, too far away to catch. It was the first gate we’d seen.
So after noon yesterday we’d changed tactics, and directions. Now we were chasing gates. We’d gone north, hoping to hit the next latitude, and in the end, we’d settled here. The red lava field, an open hot spot, where it would be easy to spot a gate if one decided to show.
I wanted a gate for Natalie so badly it hurt.
“Your sandals tight?” I asked Natalie.
“Strapped and ready.” She grinned.
“Be careful.” I felt like I was talking to Em. My words tumbled out—anything to give her an advantage. “This rock is a pain to run on. It shifts under you, especially the little pieces. Watch for cracks. Look for flat spots, okay?”
She hugged me tight, saying nothing.
I hugged her back. She had to catch a gate today, because today was the last day of this Search. Our supplies were dangerously low. So after noon today, regardless of what happened, we would head back to the City. But being in this field today—where it had ended for Kevin—felt right.
Jason stopped. The field was eerily silent, just like I remembered. No air moved.
“There!” Jason shouted, pointing. “Sixty yards, rolling left! GO!”
Natalie was already running. The wall of writhing air shimmered in the Nil sun, drifting left.
“Go, Natalie!” I urged. But I didn’t yell. Jason was her guide, not me.
Ten yards left.
Natalie sprinted, hurdling cracks as she ran toward the gate. Then she slipped. Her foot slid, she tumbled forward, and then hit the ground hard, landing between a pair of jagged rocks.
“I’m stuck!” she cried, yanking on her foot.
By the time we reached Natalie, she’d worked her foot loose. Scratched and bloody, her foot looked better than her sandal. It lay in pieces, torn in half. Yards away, the outbound collapsed and winked out.
Her gate was gone.
“Well, this sucks,” she said. “My sandal’s trashed.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Take mine.” I rushed to get mine off, then I thrust it in her hand. “It’s big, but it’s better than nothing.”
She looked at me, numb.
Her hair lay flat; there was no wind to push it around.
“Hurry!” I shouted, bending to help. The rush of urgency made me shake. “That gate was too slow to be a single!C’mon!”
As Natalie scrambled to strap on the sandal, Jason yelled, “Gate at nine o’clock, rolling left. Forty yards!”
Natalie jumped to her feet, then broke into the same awkward sprint I’d done naked. The moment was slow and fast; the past mixed with the present. She flew erratically over the rocks, shooting for flat spots as she gained on the shimmer.
And then Natalie was there.
Two feet in front of the shimmer, close enough for the gate to illuminate her face. She smiled, glittering tears running down her face. She waved, then stepped back into the gate, and the iridescent wall of air washed over her as quickly as the gate had washed over Sabine. Natalie flickered and faded. Then the gate collapsed.
