The Sky is Everywhere

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Across the room is a gleaming metal door set into the wall – another lift, I realise. All the years we thought that the banks of lifts were defunct, but now I understand that they just didn't want anyone using them. Are they all functional? Do they all lead to a different room in this awful place?

I try to picture how big the CC is, and therefore how big the overall Grid might be, but it's pointless and what does it matter anyway?

No one else knows we're down here.

No one is coming to help.

Tiny red lights on the wall catch my attention and I notice what I didn't before – a series of cameras on the walls. Of course they're watching this too.

I think of Rosie's bugs hidden up in Records, and want to scream. This is where I needed to put them. At least if I can't stop the Trials, then what these cameras see would have been the evidence Beyond needs to tear this place down.

But if the bag in Records hasn't been discovered yet, it's only a matter of time.

And it won't matter to me because I'll be dead by then.

A noise that's somewhere between a scream and a laugh lodges in my throat.

All my dreams of freedom and exploration seem so silly now.

Dreams don't come true for Seconds.

I should have known that by now.

They probably separated all the Prey into different rooms so it's easier for the Handlers to see what's going on, and if I'd still had Rosie's bugs, that would have worked in our favour – it would have meant that everyone on the outside, everyone that Rosie was planning on broadcasting the footage to, would also have been able to clearly see what was going on.

Taffy has stopped trying to talk to me, and is resting her head against the glass, tears running down her cheeks.

I press my hand to my own box, trying to imagine skin-to-skin contact for the last time.

Taffy copies me, so does Priya.

I gaze at their faces, wishing I could see Sonny's too, and even if we're going to die down here, I am grateful for having known them, grateful that they've been part of my life.

The lights get brighter, and I see something that I couldn't before – there is an entryway at one end of the room, leading off somewhere I can only guess – another room like this? And the walls around us aren't completely solid – to my left and right are two more dark entryways, set halfway up the walls, accessible by shallow ramps. It's all been cleverly painted so that, in dim lighting, it all looks like one solid wall.

My stomach turns over as I guess what these are for.

The clue is in the names.

We are Prey.

We're waiting for Predators.

This is a hunt.

I shouldn't be surprised.

What did I think – that we would just stand here and quietly let them kill us?

This is a test; they're trying to see who's up for the challenge. That means they're not going to make it too easy.

I assume the Predators are going to come out of those entryways and down those ramps, and then what?

Are they supposed to find a way into these boxes?

Are we going to be trapped here, watching them as they try to break through, knowing that every second brings us closer to death?

What happens when they do break through?

Anger curls my hands into fists. If they think that I'm going to just lie here and die, then they don't know me at all. I will fight with every breath in my body.

But . . . what about my friends?

The thought of seeing them die is more awful than I can comprehend, but I can't protect them all. Would it actually be better to just let myself go down and save myself the horror of seeing them die?

If it came down to it, could I actually kill someone?

I don't know. Once I wouldn't have thought so, but . . . when I look back at Taffy, still crying, at Priya's blank, wide-eyed face, I remember that this isn't just about me. This is about them. Priya is so small and delicate – she'll be an easy target for anyone.

It's not about killing to save my own life; it's about killing to save hers.

Can I do that?

I think I can.

There's a soft whirring noise in the room, and the glass partitions start to slide down into the floor, freeing us from our boxes.

The Trials are beginning.