Alight (The Generations Trilogy #2)(22)

City wall on our right, dark jungle ruins on our left. The spider could be anywhere. At night it would be almost invisible in the trees, even if it was only a few steps away. But there was that whine—if it comes, hopefully we’ll hear it before it sees us. If so, maybe we can hide.

Spingate says the spider isn’t alone, that there have to be enough of them to support a “breeding population.” Sometimes I wish she wasn’t so smart. It might be better not to know some things.

Bishop raises a fist. We stop instantly. He’s staring down at his feet. No, at the wall near his feet. He waves us forward.

He kneels, points to the base of the wall and looks up at me. Moonlight shines off his wide eyes.

I look, but once again, I don’t see anything.

He reaches down and pulls the vines aside.

There is a hole in the wall.

I drop to my knees and look in. It’s rough and uneven. The city walls are thick, as thick as two Bishops lying head-to-toe, but past the far end I see the moonlit base of a ziggurat.



This hole goes all the way through.

Someone spent a long time making this, chipping away bit by bit. It’s narrow—I could crawl in easily, but I’m much smaller than the others.

A scent…burned toast again. There one second, then gone.

I look up at Bishop. “Are you sure you can fit through?”

He shrugs. “I know you can.”

I don’t like the sound of that. Does he think I would leave without him?

“Even if we get inside, we’re probably way past the edge of the map Gaston showed us,” I say. “We’ll still be lost.”

Spingate kneels next to us. She taps the black jewel nestled in her ear.

“I can get us back with this,” she says. “It’s out of range now, but if we get inside the wall and keep heading west, I think I’ll be able to reach Gaston soon enough. Then he can guide us back.”

Bishop tilts his head toward the hole.

“Coyotl, go through, make sure it’s safe.”

Coyotl is muscular, yes, but his muscles are long and lean. Compared to Farrar and Bishop, he’s skinny. He crawls into the hole, pushing his thighbone and black bag before him.

Bishop looks at me. “You next, then Spingate, then Farrar.”

“Then you?”

He looks at the hole. He shrugs again. He doesn’t think he’ll fit.

“Then we keep looking for another way in,” I say. “There has to be another gate farther up.”

Bishop shakes his head. “We don’t know that. Even if there is one, it could be closed, locked. You have to get back to the shuttle. Our people need you.”



The tunnel makes Coyotl’s voice sound strange: “Nothing on this side. Come on through.”

Spingate crawls in, not waiting for permission.

“Bishop, you have to try,” I say. “We can’t be separated, remember?”

“Farrar, go,” is his only response.

Farrar throws his bag and shovel into the tunnel. He isn’t quite as big as Bishop, but he’s thicker than Coyotl—he crawls in carefully, pushing the shovel before him. His grime-coated skin scrapes against the craggy surface, leaving little dirt smudges behind. If it’s hard for Farrar, it’s going to be very difficult for Bishop.

Bishop points to the hole. “Your turn, Em.”

“And you’ll follow me?”

His nostrils widen. He blinks rapidly. “Yes, I’ll follow you in.”

He’s lying. This is the first time he’s done that to me. He’s terrible at it.

“You first,” I say.

Bishop looks out to the jungle, scanning for threats. “Don’t play games. Get back to the shuttle.”

Out in the solid darkness of trees, I hear something rustle. Something big.

Bishop grabs my shoulder. “Em, get into that tunnel, now.”

I stand firm. “You first.”

A loud crack, the whoosh of leaves and branches. I see a young tree fall, moonlight playing off spinning leaves. Before it even hits the ground, a shadowy something scrambles over it.

The spider, coming fast—it will reach us in a minute, maybe less.

Bishop shakes me so hard my head rattles. “Get into the godsdamned tunnel!”



He’s hurting me again. He doesn’t know his own strength, but I know mine.

I slap him so hard my palm stings.

Bishop stares at me, shocked.

“I am the leader,” I say. “I’m ordering you into that tunnel!”

He blinks, glances to the jungle. The spider is closing in, a moving shadow-blur scuttling over rubble and fallen walls, down the far side of craters and up the near, knocking over any thin trees in its way.

Bishop throws his axe into the tunnel so hard I bet it sails all the way through. He dives for the hole and gets stuck almost immediately, thick shoulders wedging against the rough surface.

I look back at the rushing monster. It’s too dark to see much, but Spingate was right—five spindly legs. A Matilda memory pops into my head: five legs, like a starfish.

My body goes cold. Fear vanishes. If I’m going to die, that is the way of things, but with my last breath I will make sure Bishop survives.

I kneel.

“Bishop, slow down. Breathe. Put your right arm in first, stretch as far as you can.”