GREEN [complete]

CHAPTER 16: Mars

He could turn around, he told himself. He could find his way back to the facility and Jones would let him back into his cage—his heat lamp would be waiting, his books would be waiting. But his death would be waiting too, wouldn't it? Mars touched the still-stinging spot on his neck where Jones had inserted the needle. If the alarm hadn't gone off, that would have been the end for him. Mars swallowed hard.

"Hey, Mars, how are you doing back there?" Dylan asked, capturing his attention. Their remaining hand trailed along one side of the hallway. Ahead of them, Sekam forged a confident path, certain of her steps even in the complete black.

Before Mars realized Dylan couldn't see him, he said, "Cold." Then, he touched their shoulder to assure them he was okay. They would find light soon, and hopefully, with it, heat.

Sekam came to a sudden stop. Mars caught Dylan's arm before they crashed into her, holding them back. "Wait," he said and again realized they couldn't see him. A tendril of frustration wound itself down his throat, drawing up an hiss. Being silenced yanked him right back to the table; helpless, terrified.

Sekam looked over her shoulder, her eyes burning yellow and throwing twin halos in front of her face. "Was that a threat?" she asked. Her pulse beat steady, but she curled her lips back to flash him her teeth. His hiss was not a threat, but her growl certainly was.

His rattle quivered and he shrank behind Dylan. Maybe Sekam wouldn't be able to see him there.

"He's scared," Dylan said. "He's just scared, okay? You don't need to get all growly on us." They moved their hand like they were going to try to cross their arms, then remembered and let it fall. "Why are we stopping here, anyway?"
Sekam's ears came up, slightly. "I found a door. Give me the keys."

"This isn't the right door." They made no move to give her the keys.

She turned fully toward them. "It is my duty to keep him alive. Give me the keys."
Dylan's temperature ticked up and their heart rate increased. They tipped their chin up to glare at Sekam's yellow eyes. "The best way to do that is to get back to Bek. Bek is that way." They jabbed their hand into the darkness, index finger extended.

"No." Sekam stepped closer, aggression boiling off her. Mars couldn't help but think that her intimidation tactics would work better if Dylan could see her. "The best way is to get him out off this mountain and out of the cold. He won't last long up here."

Dylan's teeth clicked together. Their breathing stilled. After a long time, almost too long, they exhaled a heavy sigh and dug into their pocket. "Do you ever turn off?"

"I don't know what that means." Sekam snatched the keys out of their hand and turned to the wall. She opened the door and a blast of cold air billowed into the hallway, chased by a blast of bright light.

Mars yelped and squirmed backwards, trying to distance himself from the chill. It was faster. It twisted around him, boring into his bones and numbing him to the core. Warm hands found his shoulders, slipped down to his elbows, then took his hands, urging him forward.

"It's hot in the valley," Sekam said. "Follow me down the mountain."

Mars tried to talk back, but his hands shook so uncontrollably he couldn't for a single word. Instead, he settled on a jittery nod. Hot sounded nice. He needed hot. Sekam was right: if he didn't get out of the cold, he wouldn't last much longer. He was still sluggish from the drugs Warren had given him and the deep cold only made it worse.

Sekam lead him to the door, to the bright white that would be his salvation ... or so he thought. Instead, a great emptiness opened before him. Not quite white—grey. Mars had never seen anything so big or so dreadful. He tipped his head back as he tried to take it all in, but it reached as far as he could sense in front of him, and even further above him.

Mars had been prepared for the cruelties of what was beyond his cage, but no one had thought to warn him of the sky. His chest seized, crushing his heart and his lungs and whatever else still resided there that hadn't rotted out. A noise—almost a squeak, not quite a squeak—broke his lips. The grey spun away in a blur as Mars toppled, unconscious, into the snow.