Название | Storm of Ash |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Michelle Kenney |
Жанр | Учебная литература |
Серия | The Book of Fire series |
Издательство | Учебная литература |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780008281458 |
My chest thumped painfully as I approached, my brother’s silhouette looming through the dust like a dark angel. And then we were back, standing at the edge of our clearing, staring up at the old white oak that had sheltered Thomas and our ancestors through the worst storm mankind could devise.
It was still there.
Or at least most of it was. One of the large supporting boughs had been split off by passing laser fire, leaving the edge of our living room exposed, but the rest was there, its silver-white bark a beacon of hope among all the grey.
‘Mum?’ I whispered, my eyes streaming. ‘Mum?’
My anguish exhaled forcibly as I scrambled forward, willing myself up there, willing Mum to be OK. Before a sudden, bruising grip on my upper arm yanked me back into the foliage.
‘What?!’ I hissed as I regained my balance, only to find his other hand clamping down hard over my mouth.
Then I saw his expression. He was staring straight ahead, and there was something in his fixed stare that flooded my limbs with fresh dread. Yet I couldn’t not look. I forced my gaze to level with his, and scowled through the eerie, particle-choking air.
And then I understood. Because she was there, just past the dust and devastation, just beyond the shadow of our treehouse. Mum.
Mum was standing, unprotesting, as some kind of metal frame box closed around her, a box connected by a glinting silver cord to the open underbelly of an Eagle aircraft.
They were taking her.
The words repeated dully in my head before reality bit back. Then cold fury snaked through my limbs and I fought like a caged medusa to show I didn’t care, that I knew he was trying to save us, but that it didn’t matter any more. There was no way I could stand here and watch them take her the way they took Grandpa. I had to try to stop it. And somehow, whether it was a moment’s weakness, or some brief understanding that there was no survival worth her loss, his hold loosened. It was all I needed and I was away in a flash, pelting past our treehouse, across the open ground and towards her.
‘Mum!’ I grated hoarsely, as the cage swung just out of reach of my gut-twisting leap.
I landed in a heap before turning my burning face skywards.
‘Cassius!’ I bellowed into the air. ‘Fight me! You goddamned son of a cowardly death-adder bastard! Do you hear me?’
Panic was clawing up my throat, blinding me as Mum’s frail figure grew terrifyingly smaller.
‘Or are you too scared to face me after the cathedral? Cassius …!’
A second grill was over my person in a breath, and it was only then that I realized the metallic frame was lined with a transparent material. It was a fortified box, much like the canisters in the research centre, and it sucked me in with intense force. Stealing my breath. Dulling my consciousness.
‘Mum,’ I moaned desperately.
And as my senses dimmed, I was vaguely aware of a broken face far below, of a dark hole looming closer, and the mechanical clatter of a hatch closing. Then there was motion, but it didn’t matter because through my dimming eyes I caught a glimpse of her. Beside me. And whatever she was facing, I was right beside her. Facing it too. Grandpa’s eyes blurred before mine, he was smiling so sadly.
‘I tried,’ I pleaded, as the world dimmed to a faint pink spot, and all I could think was that, sometimes, winning wasn’t about fulfilling prophecies or defeating monsters.
That sometimes, it was about knowing when to lose.
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