Read Online Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) by Madeleine Henry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Madeleine Henry
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The car stops, and all of its doors click to unlock. Before I can feel for a handle, the door beside me opens on its own and lets in a flash of white light. It’s blinding. I cover my eyes fast with both hands, but little white dots still color the backs of my eyelids. I wriggle both wrists and try to rub them away.
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
The blare rocks me back like an ocean wave. There must be thousands of voices out there, louder than anything I’ve ever heard. I keep my eyes closed and jerk my hands back to cover my ears. They’re still calling my name. My name.
I imagine how I must look through their eyes: cowering, weak. But I’m stronger than that, and I’m here to work. Relaxing my hands, I let the noise in and cringe, but I won’t hide from it anymore. I swing one arm to rest across my forehead like a visor and gaze out at the horde. Hundreds of small white bulbs flash on cameras scattered through a crowd. People are taking pictures. Of me. My eyes slam shut involuntarily.
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
I turn sideways and let my feet dangle over the edge of the seat. There’s no way I can run away now, not with this many Easy eyes on me. I look down, heart pounding, and see a red carpet six feet below me, brighter than anything left in the Dark Zone. I lean forward, ignore the hanging ladder, and let myself drop onto the rug. Bending my knees, I land smoothly on the sea of endless red.
Slowly , deliberately, I raise my head to gaze at what lies before me. I’m on one end of a wide road of carpet. On either side of the rug, thick rope dips between golden pickets to contain the screaming crowd. The Easies look like DZs might, if we were ever that flushed with mania. If we were ever that clean. They wear plush jackets in colors I’ve never even seen: vivid reds, royal purples, and others I don’t know how to name. The Easies swarm behind the rope reaching their arms frenetically toward me. They should see what a real Frontier looks like.
At the other end of the carpet is an all-glass skyscraper beaming yellow light through every window. Its name—The New York— glistens in giant golden letters above a row of three front doors. An above-ground transparent tunnel juts out from the side of this building, connecting to an identical tower next door. The surrounding city glows. Just glows. Luminous skyscrapers stand with overwhelming power for as far as I can see. They gleam unnaturally bright, impossibly bright—but the sky is still dark as ash.
I smirk and notice small snowflakes drift gently through the frigid air. So they share the black sky and the weather with us, after all. They might have all the power, but they can’t escape the state of the earth. Looking around the city, I see: the United States is not a magical place. It’s stunning and extraordinary, but—it’s exactly what the Dark Zone would have looked like with power. This is just a city. The Easies are the people we might have been, and these are the buildings we might have had. They’re no better than we are, they just got lucky. Incredibly goddamn lucky.
From behind me, a black glove points forward toward The New York. I look over my shoulder and see the hand belongs to someone as big as a Frontman. He wears an austere black suit jacket and crisp white shirt. Also like the Frontmen, he carries a gun. Two, actually. One pistol on each hip, which means for now I do what he says. I stand and step forward, gleaning a bit of pleasure from stomping on the Easy rug.
“Phoenix!” an Easy man calls from the sides. “Will you marry me?”
I stop short. “What?” I ask, bewildered.
“Marry me !” another shouts. “Marry me , big strong Phoenix!”
They’re taunting me. I turn toward the rope barrier and squint hard, scrunching the rest of my face in a rage. The crowd is massive. I search for the hecklers, but it’s impossible to find them among the throng of strangers.
“Stop
The car stops, and all of its doors click to unlock. Before I can feel for a handle, the door beside me opens on its own and lets in a flash of white light. It’s blinding. I cover my eyes fast with both hands, but little white dots still color the backs of my eyelids. I wriggle both wrists and try to rub them away.
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
The blare rocks me back like an ocean wave. There must be thousands of voices out there, louder than anything I’ve ever heard. I keep my eyes closed and jerk my hands back to cover my ears. They’re still calling my name. My name.
I imagine how I must look through their eyes: cowering, weak. But I’m stronger than that, and I’m here to work. Relaxing my hands, I let the noise in and cringe, but I won’t hide from it anymore. I swing one arm to rest across my forehead like a visor and gaze out at the horde. Hundreds of small white bulbs flash on cameras scattered through a crowd. People are taking pictures. Of me. My eyes slam shut involuntarily.
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
“Phoenix!”
I turn sideways and let my feet dangle over the edge of the seat. There’s no way I can run away now, not with this many Easy eyes on me. I look down, heart pounding, and see a red carpet six feet below me, brighter than anything left in the Dark Zone. I lean forward, ignore the hanging ladder, and let myself drop onto the rug. Bending my knees, I land smoothly on the sea of endless red.
Slowly , deliberately, I raise my head to gaze at what lies before me. I’m on one end of a wide road of carpet. On either side of the rug, thick rope dips between golden pickets to contain the screaming crowd. The Easies look like DZs might, if we were ever that flushed with mania. If we were ever that clean. They wear plush jackets in colors I’ve never even seen: vivid reds, royal purples, and others I don’t know how to name. The Easies swarm behind the rope reaching their arms frenetically toward me. They should see what a real Frontier looks like.
At the other end of the carpet is an all-glass skyscraper beaming yellow light through every window. Its name—The New York— glistens in giant golden letters above a row of three front doors. An above-ground transparent tunnel juts out from the side of this building, connecting to an identical tower next door. The surrounding city glows. Just glows. Luminous skyscrapers stand with overwhelming power for as far as I can see. They gleam unnaturally bright, impossibly bright—but the sky is still dark as ash.
I smirk and notice small snowflakes drift gently through the frigid air. So they share the black sky and the weather with us, after all. They might have all the power, but they can’t escape the state of the earth. Looking around the city, I see: the United States is not a magical place. It’s stunning and extraordinary, but—it’s exactly what the Dark Zone would have looked like with power. This is just a city. The Easies are the people we might have been, and these are the buildings we might have had. They’re no better than we are, they just got lucky. Incredibly goddamn lucky.
From behind me, a black glove points forward toward The New York. I look over my shoulder and see the hand belongs to someone as big as a Frontman. He wears an austere black suit jacket and crisp white shirt. Also like the Frontmen, he carries a gun. Two, actually. One pistol on each hip, which means for now I do what he says. I stand and step forward, gleaning a bit of pleasure from stomping on the Easy rug.
“Phoenix!” an Easy man calls from the sides. “Will you marry me?”
I stop short. “What?” I ask, bewildered.
“Marry me !” another shouts. “Marry me , big strong Phoenix!”
They’re taunting me. I turn toward the rope barrier and squint hard, scrunching the rest of my face in a rage. The crowd is massive. I search for the hecklers, but it’s impossible to find them among the throng of strangers.
“Stop
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