Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
We take the stairs, coming out into the lobby of the Extraction Tower—which is also a disaster. Furniture upturned, all the windows in the front of the building have been broken out, and there’s a lot of water on the floor, though none of it is deep like it was below the city.
We go outside and find that the canal is black. There’s no blue light in it at all. Which we saw from above, but it didn’t really register until right now, when we’re standing in front of it, that it’s… dead.
“I can feel it,” Finn says. “The lack of spark here.”
He’s right. The whole place feels dead.
“Let’s go check out the Maiden tower,” Finn says, squeezing my hand as he turns towards the bridge that leads across the water. It’s mostly still intact, but there are signs of some kind of struggle here too.
Everywhere, actually.
“Wow,” Finn says, as we walk up to the Maiden Tower. “What is all this?”
He’s pointing to the windows, which are covered in some kind of metal. “Shutters?” I guess.
“Yeah. No one can see in.”
“Or break them to get out,” I add, almost whispering.
He turns to look at me. “Creepy.”
I nod my agreement, hastily looking around for those workers. I don’t want to come face to face with one just in case they see us up here.
“OK, let’s go back.”
My eyes widen, my heart jumping. “Really?”
“Yeah. I think you’re right. There’s something really wrong about this place. There was some kind of rebellion. We could search all the stores and houses, but I think we’ll just find more of the same. Signs of battle. No people. Just workers, and who wants to confront them, right? And anyway, whatever happened here I’m sure there will be clues in the Looking Glass room. We’ll try and find them before we set the timer.”
“Yeah,” I say, relieved. And a long breath comes out of me. Like turning our backs on this place is the best idea we’ve ever had. “That’s where all the answers are. Good idea.”
Our trip back across the canal is quicker. Our steps more purposeful.
Right outside the Extraction Tower there are workers. Not congregating or anything like that. Just… busy. Some of them are carrying crates, some of them are pushing garbage cans filled with debris. But most of them are just walking by.
Finn and I wait, holding our breath as we discern if they can see us or not. But when they all disperse, going on their individual ways, it’s clear that they can’t. Or if they can, they don’t care.
We go back into the Extraction tower, climb all the way back up to the top, then up the last four floors to the dome. I help Finn tip the couch back over, so we can sit on it, and I flop down, a bit exhausted.
“Rest,” he says. “I’ll get the Looking Glass working.”
I don’t argue. I feel very uneasy and I would prefer to be out here, watching his back, while he’s got the door closed in there to make the machine work.
But once he closes that door, I feel very exposed and vulnerable.
“For fuck’s sake, Jasina,” I mumble under my breath. “Snap out of it. You’re acting like a first-year Little Sister. There’s nothing here.”
I know this.
But my fear remains.
It’s unlike me, so it’s unsettling. I mean, I’ve had plenty of moments of fear in my life. The most recent ones were about Donal, Auntie Bell, and that whole god-making thing they were doing.
This is different.
There’s no threat here. No Auntie hovering over me, trying to bully me into doing what I’m told. No Donal threatening me with unwanted attention. No explosions to run from.
Just… a sense of anxiety and dread.
And it’s just so unlike me to be fearful of the idea of something, that I begin to panic again.
What’s wrong with me?
Why am I acting like this?
More importantly, how do I fix it?
9 - FINN
As soon as the door to the Looking Glass closes, the dome above and around me comes to life. But there’s a sputter—a moment when everything goes black again—before snapping back on.
A voice greets me, but it’s wrong. Warbled to the point of making the words incomprehensible.
“What the hell is this?” I mutter, walking over to the circular desk in the middle of the room. Once inside, I start tapping on the switches, trying to make the voice clearer.
It doesn’t work. The words coming from the screen seem slow and mushed together.
Great. It’s broke—
But before I can even finish this thought, a loud screeching sound booms out from every direction, making me crouch, wince, and cover my ears with my hands.
Just as quick as it started, it stops. And the room blinks again, but this time it stays black.
I stand, unmoving and blind, waiting to see what happens next.