Read Online Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) by Madeleine Henry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Madeleine Henry
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light and heat you have restored. Although it may be difficult to hear: Your departure has benefited your family more than your presence ever could have. You have done your home a great service and should be very, very proud.”
I clench my teeth and narrow my eyes.
“Unfortunately, the United S tates is operating at capacity, so not all of you will integrate as citizens with our nation. To determine if you will be accepted into our society, you have been entered into the Carnival, a week-long competition among the fifty DZs. During this time, you are not bound by any of our laws, and none of our laws can protect you. Starting now, you must wear the provided golden ring on your left ring finger as a tracking device. Removing the ring will result in automatic disqualification.
“Phoenix, w elcome to the other side.”
The truck’s tires hum as we speed ahead. It’s the only sound I hear now, because I’m not breathing anymore. I have no idea what kind of competition they plan to throw us into, but part of me is sure that Star won’t stand a chance. She’s never won anything on purpose in her entire life. It’s not that she couldn’t—she just has to let other people win. I can’t imagine her doing what it takes—whatever that may mean—to beat fellow DZs. But that is why I’m here: to fight for her and me. For us.
My truck barrels toward New York City. I slide against the window as we make a harrowing turn. My body presses against the door for a long second, and I imagine Star whimpering in the same position . When the truck straightens, my fists stay balled tight. My eyes narrow.
Star, I will find you again.
PART II: THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
8
I cup the phone in one hand. Pink grooves run across my palm and fingers where I have gripped the edges too hard. I hold it lightly now. The rest of my hand is specked brown with dirt, and I can see every detail through the transparent screen. The phone is almost invisible against my flesh, except of course for black print across the top.
I check it again.
1 JANUARY 2082
11:44 a.m.
I grunt, frustrated, and run one hand through my hair. This has gone on for hours: I check the time, then I get riled. The numbers just don’t move fast enough. Like they’re slow drops off a goddamn icicle. I remember the last time I saw one drip back home and, then, too, I was waiting for Star. I stood outside Silk and stared at a long frozen spike over her door. Cold drops lagged down to the sharp end, then lingered. Released.
I check again.
1 JANUARY 2082
11:44 a.m.
I slam my phone down and look away for a moment of peace, at anything but the time. I glance at my tattoo peeking out above my sleeve and stare at that. Better. I trace an index finger around the crest, where a light-blue vein crosses over the T . Looking at this symbol used to make me feel so conflicted, but that’s faded from my mind. I’m an unusual type of Troublefield, but I do feel like one of them now. I’m different, but I’m still noble like they are. Honorable. And fighting for something good.
I check one more time.
1 JANUARY 2082
11:45 a.m.
It vibrates in my hand, and I drop it like a hot ember. The phone falls into my lap, displaying new text across the screen. Surprised, I pick it up and stare.
SCHEDULE
**ALERT: 15 Minute Warning before Next Event**
12:00 p.m.–12:30 p.m. LUNCH.
Location: Your suite on floor 33 . Description: Dine with your three roommates.
Three roommates?
The truck is slowing now almost to a stop. I sit up and grab my backpack, ready to bolt if I can. Noise grows outside, and I freeze with pricked ears. It sounds like muffled shouting. I inch sideways over the seats and press my ear against the window. Hundreds of faint whoops and calls cheer on the other side of the door, and I imagine a mob of Easies pulsing with excitement. Some kind of celebration. I furrow my eyebrows and press closer to the window. Someone may have just shouted my
I clench my teeth and narrow my eyes.
“Unfortunately, the United S tates is operating at capacity, so not all of you will integrate as citizens with our nation. To determine if you will be accepted into our society, you have been entered into the Carnival, a week-long competition among the fifty DZs. During this time, you are not bound by any of our laws, and none of our laws can protect you. Starting now, you must wear the provided golden ring on your left ring finger as a tracking device. Removing the ring will result in automatic disqualification.
“Phoenix, w elcome to the other side.”
The truck’s tires hum as we speed ahead. It’s the only sound I hear now, because I’m not breathing anymore. I have no idea what kind of competition they plan to throw us into, but part of me is sure that Star won’t stand a chance. She’s never won anything on purpose in her entire life. It’s not that she couldn’t—she just has to let other people win. I can’t imagine her doing what it takes—whatever that may mean—to beat fellow DZs. But that is why I’m here: to fight for her and me. For us.
My truck barrels toward New York City. I slide against the window as we make a harrowing turn. My body presses against the door for a long second, and I imagine Star whimpering in the same position . When the truck straightens, my fists stay balled tight. My eyes narrow.
Star, I will find you again.
PART II: THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
8
I cup the phone in one hand. Pink grooves run across my palm and fingers where I have gripped the edges too hard. I hold it lightly now. The rest of my hand is specked brown with dirt, and I can see every detail through the transparent screen. The phone is almost invisible against my flesh, except of course for black print across the top.
I check it again.
1 JANUARY 2082
11:44 a.m.
I grunt, frustrated, and run one hand through my hair. This has gone on for hours: I check the time, then I get riled. The numbers just don’t move fast enough. Like they’re slow drops off a goddamn icicle. I remember the last time I saw one drip back home and, then, too, I was waiting for Star. I stood outside Silk and stared at a long frozen spike over her door. Cold drops lagged down to the sharp end, then lingered. Released.
I check again.
1 JANUARY 2082
11:44 a.m.
I slam my phone down and look away for a moment of peace, at anything but the time. I glance at my tattoo peeking out above my sleeve and stare at that. Better. I trace an index finger around the crest, where a light-blue vein crosses over the T . Looking at this symbol used to make me feel so conflicted, but that’s faded from my mind. I’m an unusual type of Troublefield, but I do feel like one of them now. I’m different, but I’m still noble like they are. Honorable. And fighting for something good.
I check one more time.
1 JANUARY 2082
11:45 a.m.
It vibrates in my hand, and I drop it like a hot ember. The phone falls into my lap, displaying new text across the screen. Surprised, I pick it up and stare.
SCHEDULE
**ALERT: 15 Minute Warning before Next Event**
12:00 p.m.–12:30 p.m. LUNCH.
Location: Your suite on floor 33 . Description: Dine with your three roommates.
Three roommates?
The truck is slowing now almost to a stop. I sit up and grab my backpack, ready to bolt if I can. Noise grows outside, and I freeze with pricked ears. It sounds like muffled shouting. I inch sideways over the seats and press my ear against the window. Hundreds of faint whoops and calls cheer on the other side of the door, and I imagine a mob of Easies pulsing with excitement. Some kind of celebration. I furrow my eyebrows and press closer to the window. Someone may have just shouted my
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