The Green Ones

Episode 1, Part 19

“Calli, are you okay? Calli?”

“Neca?” I jerk air into my lungs. “Thank gods you’re alive.”

“Maybe not for long. We’ve gotta go, and I don’t think I can carry you.”

“I thought the wolves were—” I cough. “Wait, are you calling me fat?”

“What? No.”

“My chest is on fire.” I lift my head to inspect the cut, but it’s too dark to see the damage.

“Calli, listen to me,” Neca shakes me lightly. “When I was out, what did you—how did you—” he lifts my head and points. “Did you do that?”

It takes a second to focus my eyes. When I do, I see a swath of destruction leading from my feet, down the ridge and into the forest. “What? No, I—”

“Calli, if my outburst wasn’t detected, yours certainly was.”

“My outburst? Wait, I’ve never…if I did,” finally I understand the urgency in his voice. “Probes.”

He nods. “Can you get up?”

I try without thinking about it, and succeed despite a dizzying surge of pain. My legs work. I’ll worry about the rest later. Together we limp along the crest of the ridge toward the distant shield wall surrounding Worker City. “How long were we out?”

“Less than a couple minutes, or we would have heard them already.”

No sooner do the words leave his mouth, I hear the buzz of what sounds like a five-pound humming bird.

“Make that two minutes exactly.”

“We’ve gotta get out of the open,” panic knots in my gut.

“The trail’s here.” Neca guides us off the ridge and under the cover of the forest canopy.

On level ground, we pick up the pace. The buzzing stops. Seconds later it starts again, indicating the nearest probe has found the site of my telekinetic outburst—my first real demonstration of ability. Something less than a sparkling success, at least nobody died. Instantly, I regret the thought and wonder if I’ll always subconsciously punish Olin for the death of our parents.

He’d been only twelve at the time of the first, and yet, it had been magnitudes more violent than my piddly demonstration. Both of my parents and several others had died. Somehow, I survived.

Then I remember the whole purpose of Neca and I being outside the shield wall. In a panic, I check the pocket beneath my tzotzomatli and find the pouch still intact. “How much further?” I huff.

“A kilometer.”

“Faster.”

Neca grunts.

We’re already running as fast as we can without slamming into a tree or tripping on a root. But if we get caught by a probe, no matter whether it’s from New Teo or a nearby enemy patrol, nothing will be left. Not a stitch of clothing. Not a drop of medication. Nothing.

I place a hand on my chest, six inches below my neck. The gash is bleeding freely and stinging with sweat. It’s serious, not life-threatening. If I survive the next kilometer, the biggest concern will be rabies—a common ailment in Worker City.

Branches rush past in a blur, slapping my face or scratching my arms, as we navigate the trail in near pitch black. I find myself wishing for a full moon and no clouds. The probes track heat signatures, rendering the darkness a hindrance rather than a help. Why hadn’t we taken the caves like I had wanted?

We pass beneath an open section of the forest canopy. The buzz increases. I can’t tell if the first probe is getting closer or if it’s been joined by a second. The hair on the back of my neck bristles. Chills ripple across my cheeks. There is no time to look over my shoulder or second guess the instinct.

I drive my feet into the ground and lunge forward. Plowing into Neca, I send both of us into the underbrush. A pulse at our heels shatters the earth, buffeting us with a spray of fine dust and flipping us further from the path.

“Split up!”

Neca gets the words out before slamming into the oversized trunk of an ahuehuete tree, knocking the wind out of him at the very least. I land in a soft pile of needles, rolling instantly onto my feet. He’s right, of course. If we stay together, we’ll both die. If there is only one probe, one of us might make it.

But when I start running, it’s directly toward Neca.