The Ark - Laura Nolen Liddell

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doubts were smattered across his face, but the Remnant was more than anyone could resist. The gun disappeared behind his back. His face remained tense. “I’m warning you, Ise. I’m done with your games. You play me, you’ll regret it. It’s not too late to make you regret it.”

      Isaiah’s shoulders relaxed. I allowed myself a breath.

      That was when the impossibility of my situation hit me. Something slippery swirled in my stomach, and I felt sick. I couldn’t stay with Isaiah and his family, or I’d miss the OPT. But I couldn’t leave, either, because Abel would know we were lying, and Isaiah would pay for it.

      I told myself that I didn’t have a choice, that it was his decision to come here. But deep down, I didn’t know if I had what it took to walk away.

      For now, at least, I still had time before I had to act, time to find the smart move. I could play this out. I willed the slippery thing to hold still for a little longer.

      I squared my shoulders, and noticed Isaiah doing the same. “You can keep the gun out, Abe,” he said. “I’ve gotta get something from the car.”

      “Like hell you do.”

      “Like I said. Keep the gun out if you like. That way, we understand each other.”

      “Maybe we don’t.”

      But Isaiah was already halfway to the car. I shrugged at Abel, pretending not to understand the warning in his voice, and casually placed myself between Isaiah and the gun.

      Isaiah popped the trunk a moment later. As I expected, he came out with Meghan’s rifle. What I didn’t expect was where he aimed it.

      At me.

      “Step aside, Abe. I’m a fair shot, most of the time, but I’m not as sure as I used to be.”

      I floundered, trying to figure out the play here, and felt the slippery thing in my belly harden into stone. Surely Isaiah would never tell Abel about my starpass. Surely.

      “No.” The word escaped my lips before I thought it. “Isaiah. Don’t do this.”

      “I can take one person with me, little bird. And it’s not you.”

      I shook my head, confused. I glanced back at Abel in time to see him pull his gun again.

      “I got her,” he said.

      “No need,” said Isaiah. “Get in the car, Char. Drive away. I’m only gonna say it once.”

      It was the way he said my name that finally tipped me off to his plan. He had never called me Char. It was an act.

      Abel spoke. “We don’t have to kill you unless you get stubborn. So you better start moving.”

      I stole one final glance at Isaiah before I started running.

      He almost seemed to return my gaze. “Thanks for the ride, sweetheart.”

      Another phony name. It was the perfect move. He was saving both of us, in a way I never could. So it made no sense to me, in that moment, that my heart was breaking.

      I shut the door and powered on the car like a robot.

      It wasn’t until I turned the corner, never to see him again, that I realized we never said goodbye.

       Seven

      I made it to Calais, Maine, in record time, not that I knew much about what constituted regular time. Maine wasn’t the type of place where girls like me tended to take road trips. Every so often, I’d think about how much time I had left, before the gate closed, and the blood would pull away from the tips of my fingers, leaving them slightly blue.

      Whenever I passed a town, or a deserted shopping mall, I tried to fit it in my head that in a few hours, they wouldn’t exist anymore. They’d be gone. Space debris.

      I couldn’t picture it, no matter how hard I tried. There were no cars on the road, and most of the cops were up in space already, so I pretty much floored it the whole way. As soon as I got to Calais, however, traffic materialized out of nowhere, and I screeched to a stop. I was still seventy-five miles from the launch site in Saint John.

      It took me a good ten minutes to realize that traffic was going nowhere. Everyone on this side of the continent wanted to be in Saint John right now, including me. A lot of people, like Meghan, had chosen to spend their remaining hours in the comfort of their home. People who had no shot at getting on board, due to age or disability. But a lot of people would try to get on the OPT at the last minute, whether or not they had a ticket. People like me. And the OPT wouldn’t let them, and their cars would stay in the road, and I would never get there.

      I needed a plan B. I jerked the wheel to the right and steered the car through the shoulder and toward the nearest exit ramp, which was also blocked. “Car!” I shouted, activating the system.

      “Good afternoon.” The reply was cold, even for a robot.

      “Is there an airport nearby?”

      “You are four miles from Saint Stephen Airport.”

      “Are there any planes there?”

      “The airport is currently out of service.” That made sense. Under the Treaty, every airplane on Earth was grounded all week. Hijacking and piloting an abandoned airplane was above my pay grade, so I needed another tack. “What about the harbor?”

      “You are one half-mile from the harbor. An international edict prevents navigation of waterways within one hundred miles of Saint John, New Brunswick.”

      “Yeah, well, it’s not like there’s anyone left to stop me.” I turned east and pressed the accelerator into the floorboard, sending the car flying over a curb and through a vacant parking lot.

      “You may steer the car away from the port now.”

      “No chance of that.” I was about four feet from a mostly empty side street, and I felt a tiny thrill of adrenaline as I pressed the accelerator harder. The electric engine snapped gently at the sudden velocity, then… clicked off. My chest slammed into my seatbelt.

      “What the heck, car!”

      “Your criminal intent is apparent. Car is powering down. Goodbye.”

      So the cars on the road weren’t just stuck in traffic. They had probably powered down, too, at some point nearer the launch site. Awesome.

      I slipped off my heels and shoved them into the satchel. Then I grabbed what was left of the food and a coat from the back seat and sprinted toward the water for all I was worth. I would have to try my luck with the boats.

      My nylons plucked against the blacktop in the first few paces, so that by the time I reached the end of the block, they were sporting gaping holes on the soles of my feet. This was for the birds. Seriously, did these things serve any purpose at all? I paused just long enough to poke my feet through the holes and bunch the shredded ends around my ankles. That would have to do. I had a lot of tricks up my sleeve, but running in heels wasn’t one of them.

      I was within a few blocks of the water when the air around me seemed to change subtly. At first, I couldn’t figure out what was different. I passed a man on a bench, leaning on a cane, then a group of people sitting in a circle on a big patch of grass. Someone had a guitar out, and several in the group were holding hands. I assumed they were around college age, but when I got closer, I saw that they were families. Old and young, huddled together. Small children ran in circles at the center of the cluster. No one so much as glanced at me as I sprinted by, and that was what had changed. I was no longer an outcast to be stared at, eyes narrowed. No one was judging me. I might as well have been invisible. Death had made us all equals.

      I hustled past an antique store full of digital clocks, the old-fashioned kind that people used to plug into

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