Kingdom of Cages(57)

Every night, when they were alone in the darkened bedroom, they spun out their stories of Dad. Dad had made contact with the poisoners. He worked for them diligently, earning their trust, studying their networks, working on their encryptions, reporting his progress whenever he could. But he still didn’t know the extent of the organization. He didn’t understand it fully, and until he did, he had to keep working. He couldn’t stop to come back and get them yet.

Teal would curl up and go happily to sleep, her head full of images of her heroic father, and Chena would tell herself her private stories about Farin and drop into her own dreams.

Summer had cooled into frostbitten autumn when Chena saw the people fall.

She was returning home from Stem, her outrigger hammock loaded with letters and news, teas and dried lake plums. Yesterday it had rained all day, matting the grass down into stringy lumps. She’d just about frozen before she made it home. As if to make up for that, today sunlight poured down out of the cloudless sky, resting heavily on her bare neck and arms. Her scalp prickled under her floppy hat and a thin trickle of sweat ran down her cheek. She lifted her forearm to wipe it away.

As she did, a strange high-pitched buzzing sounded from the sky. It moved fast, nothing like the soft, puttering progress of a dirigible. Chena stilled the pedals and let the bike glide to a halt. With one hand planted on the top of her head to hold her hat in place, she tilted her face upward, scanning the sky for whatever made the strange sound.

The buzzing grew louder until Chena could feel an answering vibration in the rail underneath her bicycle. Then, a huge silver wedge streaked across the blue expanse, scattering black seeds behind itself, as if it were one of the forest pods breaking open.

Chena’s jaw dropped. The seeds blossomed silently and Chena realized she was seeing parachutes—hundreds of them. As they fell closer, she could see that some of them carried single people, but many more of them carried bundles tied together with ropes, or inflatable rafts stuffed full of yet more people.

All at once, they were landing in front of her. Birds rose in dark, shrieking clouds, hiding the people from Chena’s sight. Underneath the clapping of wings she could just barely hear startled human shouts.

The birds quickly scattered, leaving echoes of their shrill screams in Chena’s ears. The people sprang into action. The ones in parachutes freed themselves from their harnesses and rolled the billowing chutes into small bundles. The ones who came down in rafts clambered out onto the grass, leaving behind small gaggles of children, some of whom held babies in their arms.

The adults ran for the bundles that had fallen with them. She caught glimpses of rumpled overalls, round faces, narrow eyes, brown skin, and short black hair. They sliced through the ropes, letting lumpy bales spill onto the trampled grass. Gloved fingers tore open plastic covers to reveal glassy slabs and metal shafts. Some of the adults shouted, but their voices were distant and the words unfamiliar. Some of them began stuffing the shafts into slabs, as if making miniature signposts. Others distributed the assembled things, and the people who received them scattered across the grassland. Four came right up to the rail and shoved the posts they carried into the ground. Only when their strange, shining trees were planted did they look up and see Chena.

They were so startled, not one of them said anything. They all retreated several steps. Then they seemed to notice she was almost a kid.

“Vansant!” called a woman back toward the people doing the shouting. “Eyes!”

One of the men nearest to her screwed his face up into a smile and held out his hand.

“Watch—” Chena began.

Before she could get the warning out, his fingertips touched the fence. She heard the sizzle a split second before he jerked his hand back.

“Sorry,” said Chena, climbing down off the bike into the narrow space between the rail and the fence. “It’s a—”

A bass bawl cut through the air. Everybody’s head jerked toward it, including Chena.

“It’s an antelope,” she told them. “It’s hurt or something.”

Another bawl split the air, followed by a human scream. Chena started forward, pulling her toe up just short of the fence.

Behind her came the clank of metal against metal. In front of her another antelope bellowed, and another human screamed. And another.

The bike started moving.

“Hey!” she shouted uselessly. She glanced desperately back at the strangers, but they no longer looked at her. They were already rushing back toward the landing site.

Left with no choice, Chena ran after the bike. The rail hummed hard under it as it accelerated. She cried out herself and lunged for the seat with both hands. The bike almost jerked her off her feet, but she threw her weight backward and it slowed just long enough for her to swing her leg over the seat and plant her feet on the pedals.