12

Selah walked down the ramp beside Taraji with Brejian following behind. Bodhi and Mojica scouted out the area first and stood alert at the bottom of the ramp. As they stepped off, Taraji remoted the ramp back into the transport.

She’d thought Bodhi was ridiculous for insisting she wear a heavier jacket, but as she inhaled the cool crisp air, she understood. Remember to thank him later. She glanced around the foreign landscape. Her breath caught as she viewed the beauty of the changing seasons. Most of the surviving trees were evergreens, but dotted among the dark green background, like the splashes of color on one of her mother’s loom patterns, were the vibrant fall colors of maples, elms, oaks, and chestnuts.

Off across the field, maybe a half mile away, Selah spied an enormously overgrown apple tree laden with golden-yellow fruit. Many of the overburdened branches were bent to the ground, where a mature doe and two fawns grazed in the massive litter of apples. Food and game . . . this wasn’t a wasteland.

The ground turned uneven. Selah threw her hands out for balance and shifted her gaze back in the direction they were walking. Mojica led them toward the dome. Selah tried to take it all in at once. The shimmering wavy lines of energy—the iridescent green, pink, and yellow swirling colors of the dome—were like oil dispersing over water. The sight made her giddy with excitement. Maybe it was just because she was getting a respite from people trying to capture or kill her.

Her hands grew moist, and she wiped them down her pant legs. Her heart started to race, and she inhaled deeply to calm it. Both instances were explainable—she was wearing a heavier jacket and traveling at a faster rate than normal. Besides, she felt great.

The closer they moved toward the dome, the better she felt. Selah thought about that as she walked. Should she say something? No. They still had Brejian with them. She might want to send Selah back to the transport. And there was no way she was going to be kept from seeing this wonder.

They slowed as they got within five feet of the dome. Selah wanted to touch it. She reached out a hand. Brejian pulled her back. “You don’t want to do that.”

Selah lowered her arm. “Is it dangerous? Why are there no signs?”

Brejian smirked. “Do you normally have to tell adults not to stick their hands in the fire?”

“Well, no, but this is different. There aren’t even danger signs telling people not to touch.”

“No, this isn’t different. The dome has been around more than 150 years. Magnetoelectric current was in wide use before the Sorrows, so I’m sure people know not to touch the dome, and there’s no need for signs because I doubt things have changed that much. There were no societies outside the domes. It’s not safe.”

Bodhi glanced around. “Are you sure we can enter at this spot? I don’t see a door.”

Brejian moved forward. “This is where I directed Mojica to come. There are no tracks because people don’t come outside.”

“This is like the Mountain society, except it’s not underground, and hopefully there’s no one like Bethany Everling in charge.” The thought drew a chill up Selah’s spine. “How much do we know about this person we need to find?”

“I’m well acquainted with the integrity of the Keepers here in this dome. I would like to hope that they haven’t succumbed to greed like the evil people in the Mountain,” Brejian said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean literally, I was just thinking of the closed-in space. I was never a fan of the Mountain.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way. Yes, they’re similar,” Brejian said. “Unfortunately, staying inside is a matter of survival here. It is not the friendliest weather.” She snapped open the cover on her bag, grabbed a red four-sided stick crystal, and jammed it in a blackened area on the shimmering dome.

Selah’s eyes widened and Mojica stumbled back from the instant opening. The area in front of them evaporated like a mist, and the group stepped into a bustling crowd of people dressed in brightly colored clothing. Taraji spun around, but the opening had disappeared.

Selah was distracted by the smell and covered her nose. It reminded her of the odor in the Mountain. But no one else seemed to notice. She leaned over to Brejian. “Do you smell that?”

Brejian shook her head. “What does it smell like? Maybe someone is cooking.”

“I hope that’s not food. It’s hard to describe, some kind of chemical odor,” Selah said.

Brejian tipped her head to the side. “Very curious. I didn’t think you’d be able to pull that out of the—”

“Does anyone notice we’re drawing a crowd?” Bodhi positioned himself in front of Selah. The mass of people closed in around them, sweeping them along with a sign-waving throng.

Mojica worked her way to Selah’s side. But she didn’t feel threatened. It was quite the opposite. The group had energy.

The crowd took up a chant. “Storm for all! Storm for all! No more death squads! Storm for all!”

Taraji pushed her way to Brejian. “What’s going on? How do we get out of this?”

Brejian looked around and continued forward. “It seems nothing ever changes. There wasn’t enough STORM for the population 150 years ago, and as much as things have changed here, the basics remain the same—the Keepers are still controlling life and death,” she said.

“What’s STORM?” Selah asked.

“I’ll explain later. In the middle of this craziness isn’t the place,” Brejian said.

The crowd jostled them along. There was no way to avoid it. People swarmed forward, packing the street between the echoing canyon and the tall stone buildings. Selah figured the mob was at least three hundred strong.

“You should have warned us,” Taraji said as they hurried along. “We could have brought better weapons.”

“Weapons won’t do you any good in here. They aren’t allowed in the dome,” Brejian said.

“We have our sidearms.” Taraji patted her laser dart.

Brejian smiled. “They won’t work in here.”

Taraji’s expression froze. She pulled out her laser dart and checked it. “There’s no charge.” A look of panic spread across her face. “Check your weapons.” Bodhi and Mojica did so and acknowledged their weapons were also offline.

Selah pulled hers out. “No charge.” She turned to Brejian. “One more thing you conveniently forgot to tell us.”

“Sorry,” Brejian said. “I’ve forgotten a lot about this society.”

Selah felt the answer was too convenient, but the crowd distracted her with their body-speak sensations. They didn’t feel hostile, just hopeful.

The crowd slowed in front of a multistory carved stone building. With their signs bouncing up and down, they continued the chant. Selah stared up at the building’s stonework. It reminded her of the buildings in an ancient town she had passed that had been reduced to rubble, except here the windows weren’t broken and kudzu hadn’t taken over, and the building was scrubbed shiny and clean until the beige sandstone gleamed.

Mojica grabbed Brejian. “What are you leading us into? I’m getting tired of hearing you say that you forgot another important detail.”

Taraji muscled her way in between them and pried Mojica’s fingers from Brejian’s jacket. “Stop! We need to know what we’re here to find, and like it or not, only Brejian can direct us to the Keeper.”

“I’m tired of this sixty-questions game. We’re in the middle of a mob of strangers who could lash out at Selah any minute, and we have no way of protecting her,” Mojica said to Taraji. “I know many of these people are Kinship, but I don’t know their intentions and neither do you.”

“You believe me, don’t you?” Taraji faced off with her. “We’ve been waiting for this for a hundred years. You need to trust in all we’ve ever been taught—”

A light shone down on Selah’s head. She and Bodhi looked skyward. A bearded old man appeared next to Selah.

He smiled.

She smiled.

They disappeared.