The Extinction Trials(26)

Chapter Twenty-Two





As Owen climbed the mountain, rain fell in sheets, and the wind tugged at his suit.

The trees swayed and shed pieces of themselves—limbs and leaves that drifted down and coated the ground. The spongy leaves reminded him of pieces of fabric—green, purple, and blue. Walking across them was like climbing a carpeted mountain.

It was like nothing he’d ever seen.

He proceeded slowly, careful of his footing, knowing that one misstep could be deadly and that the others were depending on him.

Being alone out here was a bit like some of his early assignments as a firefighter when he had been cut off from his teammates. Strangely, the people back at the station already felt like that to him: teammates. That was strange, he thought. But it was also a source of strength and drive for him—having people that were depending on him.

As he climbed, the fog grew thinner, the wind weaker.

At a rock outcropping, he stopped and turned and looked, but saw only the wall of trees and fog behind him. He needed to get higher.

He trudged farther up the mountain, breathing hard now. He wondered if the exertion of the climb would elicit pain from the previous injuries he’d endured at the apartment building. But he felt fine, as though his body was new again, young, as healthy as he had been when he’d begun his career as a firefighter.

When he stopped to gather his breath, he tapped the display on his forearm and checked the oxygen reading:

73%

He could keep going a while longer, but the climb was making him use oxygen at a faster rate. He needed to hurry.

He ascended with a renewed vigor then, urgent, desperately wanting to return with some piece of information that might help the team.

He stopped again to catch his breath and glanced at the forearm panel:

67%

Time was slipping away.

He pushed even harder then, pumping his legs, stumbling over the loose rock as he drove himself up the mountain. Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder, but the view was always the same: trees and fog that hid any clues as to what this place was.

The next time he stopped, the panel read:

59%

Up ahead, the forest was thinner, the trees shorter, with more space between the limbs. The ground was rockier. Fog still shrouded whatever was beyond, but Owen felt that he was close, as though he were surrounded by smoke and that salvation lay on the other side.

He bounded forward, pushing himself even harder.

He slipped on a rock, but luckily, he reached down with a gloved hand and caught himself before he fell. He stayed still a moment, chest heaving. Finally, he stood and inspected the glove for any puncture. He was fine. And he needed to hurry.

He took it slower then, watching the ground more carefully.

As if it had been a mirage, the fog cleared. Ahead was an outcropping of stone, and above it, a plateau of rock that seemed to be the summit of the mountain. Owen saw only blue sky beyond.

He had done it.

He had reached the peak.

He sprinted forward, seeing the end in sight, a grin forming on his face, the anticipation of possibly discovering, finally, where they were and what they were dealing with.

In his mind’s eye, he couldn’t help thinking about returning to the station and telling the others. In that place of imaginary future memories, for whatever reason, he saw himself telling Maya first and hearing her celebrating the good news he had risked his life to bring back. He thought it strange that she was the one he thought of first. Why was that?

At the wall of rock, he used his hands and feet to climb, careful to find his footing. He stopped to rest halfway up and glanced at his arm panel:

51%

He told himself that it would be faster going back, that he’d used more oxygen more time to climb the mountain. The downhill dissent would use a fraction of that. He still had time. Plenty of time.

The rocky plateau was bare except for a few shrubs. The wind whipped forcefully here, a gale force that tugged at the suit and howled in the helmet speaker.

Owen crept to the precipice opposite of the way he approached and gazed down. For a moment, he was shocked at what he saw. Taking it in, he shuffled along the edge, making a circle, looking out. What he saw sent a wave of shock and fear through him.

The storm was certainly strongest in the direction he had come from—and the fog was thicker there. The other side was clearer, but that didn’t help much.

As he completed the loop, he spotted something that just might be their salvation.

He was leaning forward, trying to get a better look, but a gust of wind threw him off balance. The rock below his feet rolled and crumbled and he fell to his knees. Another gust of wind and rain hit him just as he was rising, rolling him off the plateau. He reached out with his hands, but he was too late.

For what felt like an impossibly long moment, he flew through the air, landing on a small outcropping before he bounced off and he was in the air again, freefalling. He turned and held his hands up to brace himself for the impact he knew was coming. But the pain didn’t come. He hit the ground hard enough for everything to instantly fade to black.





Chapter Twenty-Three





Alister slammed the heel of his hand into the floor. “Useless. Completely and utterly useless message. What’s the meaning of even naming it Escape Hatch? The video just rambles on: we have this many participants and we released this many and this many in this many cohorts are still here and here’s how many died before that. Who cares?”