The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 8

The soldiers disperse, running to either end of the ship and pulling out sheets of white canvas. I make my way to the back, stumbling as Phoenix rolls back and forth. Luca's laugh continues to barrel down the ship's barren expanse and sends a cold shiver down my spine.

I reach Marc and help him and the other soldiers unfurl the canvas, tossing it down the outside of the ship and knotting the ends to the ledge. From the helm I can hear Will bellowing at us to keep our heads down and I glance towards Jaci's limp form, feeling my heart twist painfully in my chest.

The white canvas billows in the wind, rattling against Phoenix's wooden undercarriage. We remain crouched, tensed as we hold onto whatever we can manage, trying to maintain our footing while the pilots grapple to bring Phoenix back under control.

"This better work." Someone remarks through gritted teeth.

"How do we know that Waster's even recognize a white flag as peaceful?" Marc asks before we are thrown violently to the side again.

"How do we know that they would care?" Grimacing, I kick away a discarded pack sliding freely along the floor.

The ship straightens and for a moment the ground steadies below our feet. Everyone falls silent, waiting. Even Luca halts his creepy laughter.

"Are they going to let us land?" I ask to no one in particular.

"Let's try." From across the ship Will signals to the pilots, one of whom nods grimly and slowly begins turning a dial. Bit by bit we begin to descend.

The atmosphere inside the Phoenix is poised and tense. I turn in my crouched position to look at the sliver of sky behind us, the absence of clouds betraying nothing about how high we remain from the ground.

Seconds pass. "I think we're all right." Marc says. "I think they're going to let us down."

At that moment there is a terrifying whistling as an object cuts through the air and a heavy thud as it makes contact with the helium-filled cavity above us. Through my small window I catch sight of a gigantic wooden arrow tumbling back down to earth just before we spin off our axis again.

Soldiers lose their grip and slide across the floor, grasping onto each other's hands and pulling themselves back to the edges of the ship.

Marc and I manage to maintain our holds, kicking our feet in an attempt to bring them back beneath us. "Well, so much for that." Marc grunts.

We pitch forward and I take the opportunity to release my hold, sliding down the expanse of Phoenix past the other soldiers and arriving near Will and the pilots at the very front of the ship.

I hit the helm with an inelegant thump, turning so that my back is to the wall and facing Will. His jaw is clenched as the pilots behind him struggle to right us once again.

"We have to get out of here." He says, grim resignation laced through his voice. "They aren't going to let up." He straightens, yelling towards the pilots, "Get us back into the air! Now!"

"Can those arrows cut through the canvas?" I ask.

Will looks up, startled as though he has just noticed me there. "No. No, of course not."

As if on cue, an ugly snapping sound cuts above our heads and we are rocked violently to the side. There is shouting as men and women are knocked against the edges of the ship and one of the pilots flies is wrenched free of the wheel, landing in a heap in the middle of the floor.

Phoenix tilts crazily, listing heavily on one side.

"The rope's been sliced through!" Someone yells, pointing to where a frayed length of cable is flapping in the breeze, dangling a distance away from us off the side of the helium balloon. The other half of the rope has disappeared into the abyss below.