Alight (The Generations Trilogy #2)(75)

I don’t know what to make of that ship. Our shuttle is streamlined, something born to slice through the air. This ship? It is a quarter the size and has no sleekness. Weird shapes stick out. I see rivets and bumps. Some parts look melted. Smoke—or maybe steam—rises up. A few spots are actually glowing, like metal heated in a fire. The machine clinks and clonks, as if someone is tapping on it with tiny hammers.



Moonlight intensifies. The cloud cover is breaking. I see something moving near the ship. It’s not a Grownup, not a Springer…it is a person, like us.

The wind picks up. I hear vine leaves start to rattle.

That person…it can’t be…

I grab Coyotl’s shoulder.

“Move in,” I say. “Right now!”

“What? But Bishop said—”

“Now! Go!”

The spider lurches forward so fast Muller and I grab at the protective ridge to stop from falling backward. The silent machine streaks in with nothing more than a rapid click-click-click of pointed feet.

The person hears us coming, turns.

As the spider slows and stops, the last of the clouds blow clear. Moonlight streams down on a long-sleeved white shirt, a red and black plaid skirt, pale skin…and wispy blond hair.

The girl looks up at me.

“Hello, Em,” Bello says. “I escaped.”





It can’t be. She’s gone. Bello is gone.

Bishop rushes in from the left, slinging his musket. He engulfs Bello in a hug. She laughs and winces, hugs him back, her feet dangling.

“Bishop,” she says. “Oh my gods, it’s good to see you!”

Bawden sprints in from the right, but she doesn’t run to Bello. Musket butt tight against her shoulder, she scans the intersection, looking everywhere, ready to bring the barrel up on a moment’s notice. Seeing nothing, she steps into the ship’s open hatch.

Bishop has forgotten the danger—Bawden has not. Bishop is still hugging Bello, still laughing.

But is that Bello? Or is it Bello’s creator, wearing my friend’s body like a new suit?

Bishop sets her down. I haven’t seen him smile like that since we landed.

“You’re safe,” he says. “Was anyone with you?”

She shakes her head. “Only me.”



Bawden steps out of the ship. “It’s empty.”

Coyotl hops over the spider’s protective ridge, lands without a sound. He hugs Bello.

Bawden takes her eyes off the surrounding buildings long enough to squeeze Bello’s arm and smile, then the circle-star with the shaved head is once again looking for threats.

Everyone is happy to see Bello—except me. Am I the only one who understands the danger?

“You escaped,” I say. “How did you escape?”

She smiles up at me until she realizes I’m not smiling back. Her smile fades.

The others glance at me with odd expressions, like I should be down on the street with them, celebrating.

My mind is shouting at me to believe: It’s her! It’s her! You left her and that was awful but she got away and now it’s okay! If I go down there, if I touch her, smell her, I know I will lose the ability to think about this logically. I’ll stay on the spider until this is finished.

“It’s me,” she says, softly, “It’s me.”

It is Bello, I can see her, she’s right in front of me.

It isn’t Bello, can’t be, she’s been overwritten.

I reach out my good hand, take the musket from Muller. He’s so surprised he doesn’t even struggle to keep hold.

“Get out,” I say to him.

There must be something in my voice, because the twelve-year-old kicks a leg over the protective ridge, scrambles down the rails and drops down to the vine-covered street.

I put the musket butt to my shoulder. My splinted fingers make it hard to hold the weapon, so I rest the barrel on the spider’s protective ridge. I’ve never fired one of these, but I’ve seen it done, and it’s not like it takes a Spingate or a Gaston to figure out how to pull a trigger.



I aim at Bello’s chest.

Bishop looks at me, confused.

“Em, what are you doing?”

Everyone stands there like they don’t know what to do. I certainly don’t. I have no idea if this is my friend or an evil thing that is a thousand years old. I have to find out.

“Answer my question,” I say to Bello. “How did you escape?”

I see tears in her wide hazel eyes—quick to cry, just like the Bello I knew.

Bishop shakes his head slightly. He can’t process this. He and I were gutted that we had to leave her behind. The guilt has been with us every moment since, shaping us like strong hands forming wet clay. Now he is free of that guilt and the relief blinds him.

Bawden continues to scan the surrounding buildings, as if none of this matters to her.

Coyotl shifts from foot to foot, looking at Bello, looking at me.

Muller has no idea what to do. He looks from me, to Bello, to Bishop and back again.

I remember the black hand grabbing Bello’s mouth, the black arm wrapping around her waist, yanking her backward into the greenery. I remember that look of terror in her eyes. I remember not being able to save her.

I remember abandoning her.