The Corridor - by A.N. Willis

Chapter 1 January 17, 2032 In the Colorado Mountains

The Corridor portal glinted in the sunlight. Melting snow dotted the ground, echoed by the white-capped peaks in the distance. Maintenance workers and Corridor Guards milled around the base of the portal, readying an aid shipment for the Second Earther refugee camps on the other side.

As I walked, my ankle boots sunk into the slush, splattering my jeans. The Corridor observation area was nearly deserted this afternoon—the weekly shipment of medicine and food rations wasn’t much of a draw—but I had work to do. I took out my Panel, unfolded it, and pulled my research notes up on the screen. Then I settled into a seat in the second row, and glanced up at the portal.

Control towers rose up all around it in tall pillars, housing the computers, wiring and monitoring equipment that promised to keep us safe from the portal’s vast stores of energy.

Fusion reactors churned quietly from underground. They generated enough power to keep the Corridor running—a permanent gateway between our world and the parallel universe we’d dubbed Second Earth.

Inspiration, inspiration, I thought, tapping my Panel against my forehead. But my mind was quiet, as still as the portal.

Not good.

The application deadline for the Multiversal Physics Institute was only three months away, and I still hadn’t come up with a thesis for my advanced study project. I needed something

that would impress the admissions committee. But somewhere in the last seven months, since graduation from Corridor Prep, my progress had stalled. I’d grown up here at the Corridor Facility, and my father was Chair of the Facility Administration, so a project relating to the portal had seemed like the obvious choice. Even scientists like my dad knew so little about how the Corridor actually worked, so coming up with a research question should have been easy for me.

My Panel dinged with an incoming call. I held it up, eager for a distraction—until I saw who was calling. I groaned internally. My finger hovered over the image of my best friend Lissa’s face. I’d known since this morning that this call would come, and still I had no clue what to say. Might as well get it over with. I tapped the screen and her picture came to life as the feed connected.

“Estele.” Lissa pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She had on a shimmery green bikini top, and I could see breaking waves in the background. But the expression on her face didn’t match the rest of the idyllic scene. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Where are you?” she asked, her voice thick. “Why’s it so bright there?”

“I’m at the Corridor. The sun’s actually out today.” I nodded toward the portal. Its rounded surface shone faintly blue, like a layer of glacial ice. It was deceptively peaceful without the usual storm clouds gathering above it. But the electrical storms would roll back in eventually.

They always did. “Lis,” I said gently, “are you okay?”

“I need—” Her voice skipped in her chest as she breathed in. A wave crashed into the shore behind her. “I need you to talk to him for me, Estele. Please.”

I swore under my breath. A Corridor Guard glanced at me from a few feet away, his gloved fingers tapping the butt of his rifle. “You know I can’t do that,” I whispered, not wanting the Guard to overhear. It might get back to Justin. “He’s my brother. When the two of you got together you both promised me that—” A low hum interrupted me, buzzing like a faraway swarm of insects. The portal’s skin rippled slightly, as if disturbed by the noise. It felt like the sound had slipped beneath my skin. I shivered, rubbing my arms to try to banish the sensation.

It’s probably nothing, I told myself. Just your imagination.

The crew working on the Corridor’s control towers didn’t seem concerned, and the Guard had gone back to watching the delivery truck.

Lissa’s platinum blond hair stuck to her damp cheeks. “When I left after graduation, Justin said he was fine being long distance until I got back from my trip. So I don’t understand why—” She paused. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” I rubbed at the skin by my ear. “Justin is . . . he’s really upset about this, too. But . . .” That humming noise had moved up along my spine and settled inside my skull. “Lis, do you hear that? Some sort of hum?”

“Hear what?” She angled her head. “Just tell him to message me back. I would ask my mom to do it but that would just be weird.”

“Very weird.” The awkwardness would be unbearable if Lissa dragged her mother, Sam, into this. Sam worked closely with my father, and had for years. And Justin adored Sam—she was trying to help him get a promotion to lieutenant in the Corridor Guard. She was practically our surrogate mother. Which would make Lissa and Justin essentially siblings, a comparison that Justin really had not appreciated when I’d pointed it out last year.

Justin had told me this morning that he was going to end it. A year apart while Lissa traveled the world was just too long. And secretly, I was relieved. This turmoil would soon pass, and we could all go back to being a family again.

“Lissa, I hate that you’re hurting right now. But it’s for the—” I swatted at the air as if I could wave the buzzing noise away. Instead, the hum intensified, breaking into layers and harmonies of sound. It was coming from the portal itself.

The workers on the control towers had stopped, and were looking around with alarm. So they’d finally heard it, too. It sounded almost like . . . music.

The Corridor was singing.

“The Corridor . . . It’s . . .”

I dropped my Panel onto my lap, and it slid off my knees to the ground. “Estele? What’s going on?” Lissa’s voice was so small, so far away.

It’s glowing.

The rest happened in seconds, but felt like a slow-motion slideshow. Light kindled inside the portal, sparking like a fire. Electricity crackled in the air.

My dark brown hair rose from my head and stood on edge. My body subtly vibrated, teeth chattered and ears rang with the noise.

Then my entire world ignited.

My vision blanked out—white tinged with pale blue—as fire ripped through me. Pure, vivid agony; a single brief moment that held an infinity of time. I was the fire, burning from the inside out in bright blue flames.

Then, suddenly, I could breathe.

I was on the ground, gasping, wedged in between the first and second rows of seats. A sharp, metallic taste coated my tongue. Shapes started to emerge from the haze around me.

People from the Corridor maintenance crew were running toward the portal. And Corridor Guards dropped their rifles as they rushed to help.

“Get back,” someone yelled. “It was a surge! The containment field is shot—nobody touch the Corridor!”

I pushed up into my seat, cradling my arms against my stomach. My fingers bent inward, frozen into claws. I couldn’t open my hands. I held them up, looking for burns—my skin still felt hot, but the sensation was quickly fading. The skin wasn’t even red.

My boot knocked against something; a blackened, twisted lump of plastic lay at my feet.

My Panel—or at least, it used to be. Lissa’s image was long gone from the screen.

The maintenance crew clambered over the control towers, pulling out fried dysprosium circuit boards as the Guards looked on helplessly. They’d all been standing right next to the Corridor when it happened, and yet no one else seemed to be hurt.

But it couldn’t have just been me.

With all the confusion, no one seemed to notice me. All I could think of was Dad—had anyone told him about the surge? Somehow I had to get home. I stumbled over to the light-rail station that connected the Corridor area to the rest of the Facility. All the overhead lights were out. The adPanels lining the walls usually flashed in bright colors but now they were dead and black, smoking at the edges. The light-rail was probably down. I was stuck here.

Every joint in my body ached. I looked around for a place to sit, but broken glass was everywhere. I crouched at the edge of the platform, staring down into the train tunnel. My eyes strained in the dark.

There was light coming from somewhere. Faint at first, but then it started to build. A train? Had they already fixed the light-rail?

The platform around me began to gleam, light dancing among the shards of glass. I tripped backward, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone there?”

I held my hands out in front of me, still backing away from the edge of the platform.

Then a blinding burst of light swallowed me up inside it. In a split second, the whole train station had disappeared. Instead there were trees. Suddenly—impossibly—I was standing in the middle of a forest.

Icy wind tugged at my hair and stung my cheeks. Snow fell from the steel-gray sky, dusting my shoulders with white. My body shivered in the cold; the temperature had somehow dropped thirty degrees in one moment.

“Hello!” I screamed. “Help!”

I squeezed my eyes shut, positive I was hallucinating. Whatever the Corridor had done to me—it scrambled my brain.

I wandered through the trees, searching for something familiar. It looked like the woods beyond the Corridor Facility, but overgrown and wild. I couldn’t find the Helix—the thirty-story tower at the center of the Facility that could usually be seen for miles around. It was almost as if I’d stepped through the Corridor and ended up in some other place. Some other world. But this wasn’t Second Earth, I knew that much.

Where was I? And how did I get there?

Then I noticed my hands.

A pale blue circle of light glowed inside each one of my palms.

Chapter 2 Six Months Later

Lightning crackled overhead, the air humming with static charge. Low-lying gray clouds converged over the next mountain peak, swirling like a gathering storm. I couldn’t see the Corridor from here, but those clouds served as a constant reminder of where I was: First Earth.

I’m home.

Blue light still shone beneath the skin of my hands, directly at the center of each palm. I clenched them into fists, extinguishing the light, then slowly relaxed them.

It was getting easier to control the power with every port, but each time was such a risk.

A few yards to the left, and I’d have appeared out of thin air in front of hundreds of people instead of inside a secluded courtyard. That port would be my last. It had to be.

I stepped out onto the pedestrian mall—wide flagstone walkways lined with blooming flower beds on either side—and merged with the crowd. Corridor Facility residents strolled past me without a second glance; the ID badge hanging from the belt loop of my jeans marked me as one of them. Just an ordinary young woman heading toward the residence towers. Certainly not a girl with a dangerous secret.

I glanced behind me, watching for Corridor Guards. But as I turned back around, I almost stumbled into one—wide shoulders in a pristine black jacket with horizontal slashes of red at the breast. A rigid, high collar with an arrow-shaped rank pin. His red cap was pulled low over his eyes.

“Estele Alaster?” the Guard asked. “We’ve received reports of anomalous energy readings coming from this area. Anything you need to report?”

A smile snuck into the corner of his mouth.

The tension in me deflated. It was only Justin. I still wasn’t used to seeing my older brother in that uniform, especially with the flashy new lieutenant pin at his throat.

“Where have you been all day?” Justin asked, pushing up the bill of his cap. A trickle of sweat ran past his ear. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I ignored his question—the fewer lies I had to tell, the better—and glanced at my palms.

Still fine. No blue lights. “Aren’t you supposed to be on duty? There’s probably somebody walking on the grass outside the Helix right now, with nobody to glare at him.”

“Mock all you want. But my Guard connections got me these.” Justin held up two bright pink slips of paper.

“You’re kidding!” I tried to grab one, but Justin dangled them over his head. A passing lab tech with chunky headphones gave us a curious look.

“Tonight is going to be epic,” Justin said, his eyes dancing. “But do I really want to take my little sister? And I mean that literally. Did you shrink or something?” He patted my head, and I swatted his hand away.

“Right, because that joke never gets old.”

Justin had shot up three inches and gained thirty pounds in the last year, a shockingly late growth spurt for a twenty-year-old. To me, he’d forever be the skinny boy who played First Earthers versus Mods with me around the Facility’s courtyards. He’d always pretend to be the captain of the Guard, protecting me and my friends from dangerous Second Earthers. He even slept with his toy gun under his pillow at night. He probably still did, only with a real gun now.

Justin lowered his arm, just enough for me to jump up and grab the tickets out of his hand. I held them out in front of me, rubbing my thumbs against the perforated edges. Paper tickets. So retro.

CORRIDOR PORTAL SPECIAL EVENT, 8:30 P.M., JUNE 27, 2032.

“Only two?” I asked. “What about Dad?” Justin took off his cap and ran a hand through his coffee-colored hair—the only feature we shared. Justin had our father’s rugged looks, but my delicate nose and widely spaced eyes seemed more like our mother’s. Though it was hard to tell from just old videos and pictures.

I started walking toward home again, and Justin fell into step beside me. “I already checked with him,” he said. “Dad’s busy working on something, and he doesn’t care about seeing the Mods arrive anyway. Besides, you know it would be awkward.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Justin had a point. Dad might not feel welcome there.

After the energy surge in January, the Corridor’s operating computers were melted and needed major repairs. The computers tracked the portal’s energy levels and stability, and were supposed to be our early-warning system if something went wrong with the Corridor’s containment field.

No one knew why they’d malfunctioned six months ago, but without them, it was far too dangerous to travel to Second Earth or back. It would risk another power surge, or even a Pulse—a devastating tidal wave of energy. The day after it happened, my father had announced his “voluntary” retirement as Chair of the Corridor Facility. He’d lost everything he worked so hard for, and the stress had almost been too much for him.

That power surge had done more than just ruin my father’s career. It had . . . changed me.

It had turned me into someone—no, something—I could hardly describe, much less understand. I shoved my hands into my pockets, as if that could keep my secret hidden.

We neared the Helix, the monolith of dark glass and black steel that housed laboratories, administration offices, and top-secret secured areas. It loomed over everything else at the Facility, always in sight. Right now, Dad was toiling away inside in his basement lab.

“Are you sure he won’t want to go?” I asked. “Dad could have my ticket. Maybe he should make an appearance, remind everyone that he’s not just going to disappear.”

“That’s a really bad idea.” Justin sighed. “I was lucky enough to get the night off, considering that nearly every other Guard has to be working as extra security for the shipment.

Can’t we just have fun and not think about Dad for a little while? It’s one night.”

As we walked, I took my new Panel out of my pocket and sent Dad a quick message, asking if he needed company. Go, have fun, he responded back.

Justin and I stood on a white marble platform in the light-rail terminal, waiting for the train to Peak Ten, the next mountain peak over from the main Facility campus. Announcements and commercials flashed on the adPanels around us, all newly replaced since the energy surge.

The other residents who’d managed to snag tickets to the special ceremony buzzed excitedly. I pulled my long sleeves over my hands as we waited, just in case my palms decided to put on an unscheduled light show.

Outside the train terminal and beyond the Facility’s electrified fence, protesters yelled warring slogans over one another, loud enough that we could hear them inside. “The Corridor kills! End the tyranny of tech!” The usual anti-technology propaganda. There were a few competing shouts of “Free the Mods!” That was a new one. Not many people spoke up for Mods—they’d destroyed their own planet, after all. Finally, the train glided into the terminal and

the doors whooshed open. We packed in for the five-minute ride to the observation area that overlooked the Corridor portal itself.

The repairs to the portal were finally finished. In the last week, the Corridor Guard had made a few runs to transport much-needed food and medicine to Second Earth. Tonight was meant to be the big unveiling ceremony. And to capitalize on the worldwide attention, the new Chair of the Facility had arranged for a shipment of Mods—genetically modified Second Earthers—to arrive here. They would be the first Mods to cross onto First Earth since the Corridor opened seventeen years ago. Bringing Mods to our planet was a controversial move, and therefore the most exciting thing to happen around here in a while.

I held tight onto a strap as the train glided toward Peak Ten, my breaths shallow in my chest. Tonight would be the first time I’d come this close to the Corridor since the surge. I wasn’t sure I was ready. Then again, given the havoc the portal had wreaked on my life, it couldn’t do much worse.

“I heard Lissa was back in town,” Justin said, studying the roof of the train car, as if he found it fascinating. But his chest had puffed out when he said Lissa’s name. “Have you seen her?”

“I’m staying out of it, Justin. If you want to know how she’s doing, go ask her.”

The train pulled into the station. “Lot of help you are,” Justin said over his shoulder.

Actually, I hadn’t seen Lissa. I hadn’t even spoken to my former best friend in months.

After everything that happened since the Corridor’s energy surge . . . well, I wasn’t sure where we stood anymore.

We filed out of the train, then joined the security line. The wait was three times as long as usual with all the visitors coming in for the ceremony. Instead of the typical crowds of

vacationing families and students on field trips, tonight’s guests were CEOs, celebrities, politicians, and foreign dignitaries—anyone with enough clout or money to score tickets to the big event. Justin and I bypassed most of security by flashing our Facility ID badges.

We shuffled along until we reached the half circle of stadium seating that overlooked the portal. TV camera crews milled around near the stage at the bottom, interviewing people for the newsfeeds. I spotted the new Chair of the Facility, Dr. Samantha Tabor, chatting with the U.S. Secretary of Defense and a couple of senators. Her pale blond hair—the same colorless shade as Lissa’s—was tucked into an elaborate coil at the base of her neck. She laughed, showing off rows of perfect teeth, and adjusted her stylish metal-framed glasses.

Seeing Lissa’s mom up there, all smiles and easy confidence—no hint of how she’d betrayed my family to get her promotion—made me glad that Dad stayed home tonight. It would spare him another twist of Dr. Tabor’s knife. But I still felt it, right in the middle of my chest.

Thunder rumbled above our heads, and streaks of blinding yellow cut through the everpresent storm clouds, drawn to the portal’s energy. The storms had grown worse since the energy surge. Newly installed lightning rods around the portal helped dissipate any strikes. The vistas around us spanned for miles, valleys and mountain peaks bleeding red as the sun set.

“Our seats are over there,” Justin said. We edged our way to them, and sat down amidst the murmuring crowd. I lifted my eyes to face the Corridor for the first time since it had blown my life apart.

It glimmered under the spotlights, massive and yet delicate, like a soap bubble that might pop any second. The portal’s curved surface—made of stabilized plasma—shifted in iridescent blues and greens and pinks, both translucent and reflective.

My breath caught. “Wow.” Sometimes, with all the controversy surrounding it, I forgot just how beautiful the Corridor really was.

I was only a year old when the Corridor opened, but Justin remembered it vividly. People all over the United States on First Earth—well, just Earth to us back then—saw a blinding flash go off in the Rocky Mountains and feared someone had dropped a nuclear bomb. Terror and chaos reigned until government officials detected no trace of radiation. A team of Navy Seals found a group of Second Earth explorers—all Mods—wandering around a Colorado mountain peak next to a huge, semispherical bubble. The Corridor.

Dr. Tabor stepped up to a microphone and began to speak, extolling the wonders of her repairs to the computer system. Suddenly, the Corridor’s lights flickered and sparked. A collective gasp of fear spread through the crowd, drowning out Tabor’s speech. Technicians scrambled over the control towers, pulling out fried circuit boards and replacing them with fresh ones. Though I should’ve been worried, I couldn’t stop a small, bitter smile from sneaking onto my face.

I spotted Dr. Halen Krantz, standing in the shadows cast by the stage. He was the only Mod I’d seen before, a research scientist here at the Facility by special permission of the government. Most Facility residents tried to avoid him. Krantz was a member of that original Mod explorer team, and for the next few minutes, still the only Mod living on First Earth. He clasped his hands together, watching the stage and ignoring the flurry of activity on the Corridor’s control towers. Tufts of white hair stretched over his ears and along the base of his skull, with only a few spare wisps on the top. He’d always reminded me a little of Albert Einstein, with heavier eyes.

A Corridor Guard stood beside him, rifle tilting slightly in Krantz’s direction.

The head of the maintenance crew gave a thumbs-up. Bright orange lights began flashing on top of the control towers. Ripples of tension and excitement spread, and the TV reporters rushed to take their positions. “I see them,” someone shouted.

The Mods were coming through.

The Corridor started to ripple and stretch. A dark shape grew out of it, pushing the soap bubble membrane until it looked like it was about to pop. The bubble slipped around the dark shape—a delivery truck—and retracted in on itself, wobbling back into place like Jell-O. Everyone oohed and ahhed and clapped as the cameras jostled for a better view.

Black-uniformed Corridor Guards flanked the delivery truck on either side, their guns trained. One of the Guards nodded, and the back doors swung open.

The first Mod stepped out, a man with graying hair, and the audience—myself included—collectively sat forward an inch in their seats. Justin had brought binoculars, and he handed them to me for a closer look. More of the Mods climbed out of the truck, shielding their eyes from the glare of the lights, keeping their heads down.

Justin had spent a week patrolling a Mod camp last year when he did his tour on Second Earth, and brought back all kinds of wild stories. Mods with psychic powers, superstrength. But the two dozen people shuffling out of that delivery truck right now—they just looked tired. One woman yawned. Another was limping. Most of them were middle-aged, of various races, unremarkable except for their ratty clothes and the defeated look in their eyes.

What did they feel, coming through the Corridor that had destroyed their planet and killed so many of their people? Did any of them feel responsible?

Mod physicists like Dr. Krantz had spent years and trillions of dollars constructing this portal. They’d supposedly dreamed of sharing their world’s amazing technological advances

with all human civilizations, across all dimensions. But when they’d stepped inside, the Corridor unleashed a catastrophic blast of energy back onto Second Earth.

The Pulse.

It vaporized the dysprosium deposits in Second Earth’s crust and shattered its tectonic plates. The earthquakes tore their North America apart like a worn piece of fabric. Other continents cracked open or sank into the sea. Second Earth’s great cities burned, its advanced quantum computer networks disintegrated, and billions of people—Mods and normal Second Earthers alike—died. But the Corridor itself sat untouched by the damage, on an island surrounded by the vast body of water that rose up when Second Earth’s Rocky Mountains collapsed.

Death and destruction—the true legacy of the Corridor.

I lowered my binoculars. They felt heavy in my hands. “When those Mods started up the Corridor the first time,” I asked Justin, “do you think they had any idea what would happen?”

Justin gripped the armrests of his seat with white-knuckled fists, his eyes locked on the Mods filing out of the truck. “They knew it was dangerous. But they didn’t care about the consequences. It was all a competition—who could be smarter, better, who could win the most awards. And when things went wrong, they stood back and expected someone else to clean up the mess.”

I knew what he was getting at. First Earthers had been cleaning up the mess for the last seventeen years, and Second Earth was still in ruins. Little of Second Earth’s collective knowledge and technology had survived the Pulse. They relied on food shipments from First Earth, and most lived in camps, segregated by Mods and non-Modifieds. Mods were stronger,

faster—and feared, not only on First Earth but also by the normal Second Earthers who vastly outnumbered them.

A Mod girl with a shaved head was the last to jump out of the truck. She looked up at the crowd, rubbing her wrists. The harsh floodlights reflected in her eyes. She was one of the few young Mods down there, in her early twenties. Not that much older than me.

Justin sat back, crossing his arms. “It’s so risky bringing them here. The Guards weren’t even briefed on their abilities.”

“Then why are we bringing them to First Earth?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. My skin flushed hot under the glare of the spotlights. “Have you heard what Dr. Tabor is planning?”

Justin shook his head. “But I’m sure it’s important if Sam thinks it’s worth it.”

I bit back my response. We’d already had that argument twenty times. No use rehashing it right now.

Justin didn’t share my distrust of our new Facility Chair. I suspected he’d hesitate to question anyone in the Chair position, even if that person had replaced our father. He took his Guard oath seriously. But more than that, my brother refused to believe that Sam, a woman we’d loved since we were kids, could be capable of getting Dad fired on purpose—especially after she helped Justin land his promotion.

Back on the stage, Dr. Tabor straightened her tailored suit, getting ready to speak again.

“This is a momentous day,” she said into the microphone, her voice echoing. The Mods kept walking in a line past the stage as she spoke, herded by armed Guards on either side. “Not just for the Corridor Facility, but for all of First Earth.”

The Mod girl with the shaved head slowed down in front of the stage, and stared at Dr. Tabor with obvious loathing. One of the Guards prodded her with the butt of his gun, and the Mod turned her head and said something to him. He brought his hand to his forehead, looking around as though he was confused. The girl took a step away from him, and he did nothing to stop her.

“I know many of you are skeptical,” Dr. Tabor continued, oblivious. “But I can assure you, we are taking all possible precautions to ensure the safety of First Earthers while our . . . guests are here. Unfortunately. I can’t share our plans for them yet, but—” Suddenly, the Mod girl ran toward the stage. Someone screamed. A Guard pushed Dr. Tabor out of the way, and people in nearby seats jumped up, shouting. The Mod disappeared into the chaos. Guards started running, trying to find her in the disorganized crowd, and the screams spread. Justin barred his arm in front of me and reached for the gun at his hip, even though we were fifteen rows up and far from the danger.

Then another Guard emerged from the mass of people, shoving the Mod girl in front of him. He jammed the barrel of his handgun behind her ear, so hard I could see blood shining on her brown skin from all the way up here. More Guards surrounded them and shoved the girl onto the ground. The one with the handgun raised his arm high and brought it down fast, right on the Mod girl’s head.

I leapt up. “Stop!”

Justin gripped me by the shoulders and pulled me back into my seat. “Estele, stay down.”

The Guard hit the Mod girl again and a few other people gasped, but they quickly covered their mouths.

“But, Justin—”

“It’s fine,” Justin said in my ear. “Just let it go, okay? Everyone’s staring.”

My eyes burned. I blinked, swallowing the rock lodged in my throat. The Guard let the girl stand up and pushed her along with the rest of the Mods. My body strained with the effort of sitting still.

Mods were seen as unpredictable, as dangerous. Would my power be seen the same way?

No Mod could open a portal between her own hands, and walk into an undiscovered universe as easily as walking through a door. Yet somehow, I could. I had the power—and maybe even the instability—of the Corridor itself, hidden beneath my skin.

Lightning shot down from the sky. I shuddered, and Justin rubbed my shoulder. He was still holding on to me. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I just nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

The spotlights shut off, and Guards began moving people out of the stadium seats, row by row. “Good,” Justin said. “They’re getting everyone out of here. We didn’t have anywhere near enough Guards on duty.” He flicked a thumb over the Guard-issued miniPanel on his wrist, checking the security alerts.

I watched the Mods march away toward a special train car. The portal shimmered in the moonlight, rippling as a gust of wind swept across Peak Ten. I hugged my arms over my stomach in a futile attempt to keep out the cold; it was inside me, seeping into my bones.

Finally, it was our row’s turn to leave. Justin ushered me in front of him, holding his hand on his gun holster like he thought something would jump at us out of the dark. But the weapon didn’t make me feel safe. After all that I’d seen tonight, it felt like a threat.