Rise

nine

AN HOUR PASSED. THE AIR SMELLED OF SMOKE. FROM THE ROOFTOP we could see a fire spreading in the Outlands, just beyond the old airplane hangars. More rebels had made it into the City, fighting along with the opposition inside. Screams rose up from the main road. I kept my eyes on the streets below, watching people dart into buildings, some trying to make it down the Strip, back to their apartments. Explosions sounded along the wall. The rat-tat-tat of machine guns was so constant I no longer flinched.

"You said we had time still," Clara whispered. Her hand was clutching my wrist, her fingers digging in my skin as we looked over the City.

"I thought we did." My voice was strangely calm. The soldiers refused to let us move the tables stacked against the stairwell doors, blocking the roof's only entrance. Most of the people stood at the railing, watching the fighting. Not many spoke. A woman had pulled out a camera and was taking pictures, photographing the flames that consumed a warehouse in the Outlands.

Gunshots sounded somewhere in the southern part of the City, where fires burned, their flames urged on by the wind. There were hundreds outside the gates now, a great mass of people, firing up at the soldiers stationed along the wall's watchtowers. From where we were we could see just a sliver of the north gate and the sudden flash of explosions beyond it. The silhouettes blended together in the growing darkness, one indistinguishable from the next.

The older man with white hair was sitting with his back hunched, his arms folded on the railing. Another man, no more than forty, stood beside us. "They'll never make it through the gates," he said. "There was an attack five years ago. A gang made bombs with gasoline. It must've burned for an entire day-the whole north end of the wall was consumed. Even they couldn't get past. Whatever riots are going on in the Outlands should be controlled within a couple of hours. No need to be frightened." He bowed slightly, his expression so earnest, as if he alone had the power to reassure us.

I turned back, trying to catch a glimpse of the southern end of the wall, where one of the remaining tunnels lay. The man was wrong-the rebels would make it into the City, if they hadn't already. Moss had described it in detail: how the north gate would be attacked first, then, once the soldiers had been called to that edge of the wall, another wave of rebels would move through one of the remaining tunnels and into the Outlands, bringing in additional supplies. Now that the siege had started, I couldn't be certain when the rebels would reach the City center. But if we weren't back in the Palace, with Moss, when they swept through, we'd both be dead.

I started toward the exit, pulling Clara with me. "We need to leave," I whispered to her. "I don't know how much time we have."

A small crowd had formed by the exit, peppering the soldiers with questions. A short woman stood in front of them, her hands gesturing frantically. Now that the sun had set, she'd borrowed a short red jacket from the waiting staff to keep warm. "But I have to go," she said, her voice uneven. "My sons are just two blocks south of here. What if the rebels make it through the gate? What will we do then?"

"They won't make it through the gate." The soldier's head was completely shaved. The skin at the back of his neck came together in thick, pink folds. "We're more concerned right now with the dissidents inside the City. It's safer here than down on the street."

Three men stood beside her, listening. One reached over the soldier's arm and pushed at the top of the metal door, seeing if it would give. "Get back!" the other soldier yelled. He yanked the collar of the man's shirt, pulling him away.

The man struggled free of the soldier's grip. "We have families we need to get to. What is it to you if we want to leave?"

"They're right," I said. "How long are we expected to stay up here?"

The heavy soldier glanced sideways at his colleague. "These were your father's orders." He looked less certain now, as a few others moved toward the exit. "They need people off the road so the Jeeps can pass. They're supposed to remain here. It's just for now."

"We're just supposed to sit here?" One of the men by the door had taken off his suit jacket, revealing a sweat-stained shirt. "What about our families?" A few tables were still blocking the exit. He grabbed the legs, pulling one of them back. "Someone help me move these."

The heavy soldier went to stop him, but I took his arm. "You have to let us leave," I said. Another explosion went off in the Outlands, the smoke rising up in a sudden massive cloud. I steeled myself against it. "All of us. If we stay here much longer we'll be trapped."

"Eve," Clara whispered. "Maybe they're right. Maybe we just have to wait it out. We shouldn't argue with them." She watched the heavy soldier readjust his rifle as the crowd moved.

But I pushed forward, grabbing one of the chairs from the top of the pile and passing it back to her. Two tables were wedged against the door. I slid the bottom one sideways along the roof's edge. The soldier hovered there, uncertain whether to stop me.

The hollow, popping sound of explosives was much louder than before. "We need to go now," another man yelled. He was in a waiter's uniform, the vest undone. He pushed his way through to the front of the crowd.

The people behind him followed, knocking us forward. The soldier pressed one arm back against the man's chest, trying to stop him, but the crowd kept moving. A woman fell into me, and we pushed toward the doors. She was so close I could smell the coffee on her breath.

My knees faltered. I lost hold of Clara's hand. There was shouting as the crowd moved in one great mass. The doors gave suddenly, and everyone lurched forward. A younger woman with a red hat stepped over the chairs that had been propped against the exit. As we ran down the stairs, spurred on by the dense flow of panicked people, I looked up to see two of the men holding the soldier against the wall while the rest of the crowd passed.

It was quiet as we spiraled down the stairwell, watching our feet, our steps echoing on the concrete. An older man stopped in front of me, panting, his hands on his knees. A few people darted past him, nearly knocking him forward as they did. "It's all right," I said, taking him by the arm. "One at a time."

We continued down until the stairwell spit us out on the bottom floor of the renovated hotel. The sprawling lobby was empty. The old gaming machines were covered with sheets. Each restaurant was closed, door after door locked. The crowd dispersed through the maze of hallways, trying the different exits while I waited for Clara. "Thank you, Princess," the older man said as he started through one of the dark halls. I watched him go until he was a tiny speck, swallowed by darkness.

The silence terrified me. Beyond the glass doors the main road was desolate except for a lone, passing Jeep. A soldier ran by on the sidewalk, the sound of his footsteps receding, returning the world to its quiet place.

The stillness was broken by the quick popping of gunshots. A faraway voice called out from a side hallway, "Over here-I found an exit through the back!"

Clara ran out of the stairwell, holding up her dress so she didn't trip. Watching her now, clutching the raw-silk gown that spread out at her waist, her delicate neck decorated with a ruby pendant, I understood how much danger we were in. We were so obviously from the Palace-our hair pinned up, our gowns in custom fabrics that were nearly impossible to find now, so many years after the plague.

A man pushed past us, his jacket slung over his arm. "Sir!" I shouted as he ran toward a dark hallway. He didn't slow down. Instead he glanced over his shoulder, his face in profile. "Can we have your jacket? We can't go out there like this. If a rebel sees us we'll be shot."

He slowed for a moment as he considered it. Then he took off down a dim corridor and just dropped the jacket, leaving it there on the floor for us to pick up. A few women filed past after him, darting around it, until Clara and I were alone in the empty lobby.

I draped the jacket over Clara's shoulders. Then I unpinned my hair, letting it fall loose so it covered the sides of my face and top of my gown. It was only a fifteen-minute walk back to the Palace, maybe less, and we couldn't stay here and wait. We followed the rest of the crowd down the empty hall, moving forward into the dark.