Perfect Ruin

31

GET YOUR FINGERS OFF MY WINDOWS, kid,” the professor says. Amy doesn’t even hear him. She’s too busy gaping at the flecks of white that are whirling around us.

“What is this?” she gasps.

“I think they’re ice shavings,” I say. “Lex, you told me about this happening when clouds release water and it freezes.”

He raises his head toward the windows as though he’ll be able to look. I immediately regret what I’ve said; it’s got to be killing him that he can’t see any of what’s happening.

“It shouldn’t hurt us,” he says. “Not unless it’s coming down fast.”

“They’re like lightbugs,” Amy says. “Daphne and I used to catch them in jars.”

“Where are you going?” Basil says when I let go of his hand.

“Pen has to see this,” I say.

“Take the lantern, then,” he says.

It’s hard to believe the rest of the bird is dark while this fantastic thing is happening in the Nucleus.

When I find Pen in Amy’s bunk room, she’s speaking to Thomas in a low voice. His eyes are open, but murky. “Don’t worry,” Pen tells him, raising her voice when she hears me approach. “You’re free of that crazy princess now. We’ll kill her later, no matter if Morgan thinks she can stop us.”

“I’m on your side, you know,” I say.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for not letting me punch her.”

Thomas draws a sharp breath and then hoarsely says, “Not a good idea.”

“See?” I say. “He agrees with me.”

“No he doesn’t,” Pen says. “He’s been speaking nonsense for the last several minutes.”

“I only told you I love you,” Thomas says.

“Shush. How did you end up in the hands of that lunatic princess anyway?”

Weakly, he raises his arm, reaches into his shirt pocket, and retrieves a scrap of lace. Pen looks at her dress and realizes it’s the piece that’s missing from her collar. “She told me that she had you prisoner,” he says. “She said she would kill you if I didn’t follow her.”

“We should just leave her somewhere to fend for herself when we land,” Pen says. “I hope the people on the ground are savages with an appetite for blondes.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Did you want something?”

“Remember that frozen dust I told you about?” I say. “We’re flying in it.”

She turns her attention back to Thomas. Her fingers are trembling when she smoothes his blanket. Delirious though he may be, he notices and grabs her hand.

“Pen? Don’t you want to see it?” I say.

“No,” she says softly.

“But it’s unlike anything—”

She closes the door on me.

I know that it isn’t these icy white swirls that have Pen so scared. It’s the idea of leaving Internment and surviving it. It’s the idea that our god doesn’t care whether or not we return, and that the history book may be wrong.

Amy says the ice shavings are like lightbugs, but they remind me of the funerals I’ve attended. Of the dusted bodies released onto the wind. In the dusting process, all the bad of a person’s soul is burned away, so that only the goodness will carry on to the afterlife. It’s a cleansing.

“It’s like we’re flying through the tributary,” I say, leaning back against Basil’s chest.

“They’re flurries,” Lex says, annoyed. “Don’t turn something scientific into a cathartic experience.”

“Be nice,” Alice tells him.

I don’t offer a response. Lex is entitled to his bitterness for having to miss this sight. I wouldn’t know how anyone could describe it in a way he’d appreciate.

“I think I’ve found a landing spot,” the professor says. “Where’s Judas? Need him to help me with the wheels.” There are so many pieces to this bird, and they serve so many different purposes, that it makes my head spin. Once it’s on the ground in broad daylight, I want to inspect it. I hope they have image recorders on the ground so that I can take images.

“He’s watching the princess,” Amy says, adding a flourish to the word “princess.” “She can’t be left alone, apparently.”

“I’ll get him,” Basil says, before I can volunteer.

“I’ll go with you,” I say.

“Me too!” Amy chirps.

Judas is keeping the princess in one of the bunk rooms. We find him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, as the princess re-braids her hair.

“We’re landing,” I tell Judas. “The professor needs you. Something about wheels?”

The princess stands, her face alight. “Landing?” she gasps. “As in, on the ground?”

“Watch her,” Judas says as he leaves the bunk room. “She’ll try to seduce you.”

“We’ll try to resist,” I say.

Princess Celeste wrings her hands. “So we’re near the ground, then?” she asks. She blinks several times when she notices Amy staring at her. “Hello,” she says. She cheerily shows a row of white teeth, and her eyes squint pleasantly when she smiles, the way she smiles in every image and at every ceremony her father hosts. She would have no way of knowing that this girl before her is the famous murdered girl’s sister. Maybe she doesn’t even know her father’s role in Daphne’s death.

“I heard you collect deer antlers,” Amy says.

“Not only the antlers,” Princess Celeste says. “The whole heads sometimes, if my father lets me. Most of the body gets sent to the food and bone factories, to make jewelry like the necklace you’re wearing there.”

Amy touches the bone-carved star hanging from her neck. I’ve never noticed it before.

“Living things make the greatest art,” the princess says.

“Dead things, you mean,” Amy says, hoisting the star up in her palm. “This is dead.”

“Once living, then,” the princess says.

From somewhere on the bird, Judas calls, “Brace yourselves!” And it’s not a moment too soon, because a jolt has us all going sideways. Basil grabs on to my waist, and I grab Amy, fearing she’ll go into another of her fits. The princess backs herself into a corner and presses her hands on either wall. I could swear she looks excited.

The turbulence persists for another minute or so, and there’s an instant of reprieve before the floor shakes beneath us, like we’ve crashed into the ground and now we’re skidding.

“Pen!” I call. “Are you guys okay?”

“Lovely!”

This is it. The moment when we reach the ground, or die trying. My nerves are jumbled and I’m starting to feel nauseous. I’ve already endured more in one day than the whole of Internment’s population would deem possible. Generations of rebels have plotted for this. Several have died in failed attempts. It’s foolish of me to think that I’d be among the ones to finally achieve it.

But fantastic things are possible. I’ve learned that.

When the bird goes still at last, Amy stumbles into the hallway, drops to her knees, and gags like she’s going to be sick.

I kneel beside her.

“My body hates this endeavor,” she says, coughing.

“At least it wasn’t another fit,” I say. “You won’t miss any of the fun.”

She smiles wearily at me.

The bird hitches, and Amy claws at the floor and closes her eyes.

I think she’s whispering to the god in the sky.