The Sweeper continued forwards at hunting pace, and I tried to distinguish the rise and fall of each of the connected buildings; but each smooth, impenetrable dome seemed to be exactly the same – no windows, doors, nothing. My breathing was quick and shallow, and beads of cold sweat were dampening the backs of my curled-up legs. I’d hunted wild boar, rutting stag, and spring bear, but never before had I felt quite so vulnerable or unprepared.
Then, just when I thought we might never stop, the vehicle veered inwards suddenly, heading straight for one solid white wall. I reached out to grab the base unit of one of the laser guns, and felt the nausea nudge up my throat. Had the driver lost control? We were hurtling straight ahead.
Max cursed profanely, and threw an arm across my back, but we both knew there was no chance of surviving an impact at this speed. The towering expanse sprinted forward to meet us, and every inch of my body braced itself against the inevitable collision. I clenched my eyes tight, expecting to feel airborne at any moment and then … nothing.
‘Max?’ I whispered hoarsely, unable to contain my shock.
His response was to press my back reassuringly, but he was clearly as bewildered as me. The Sweeper decelerated fast against a backdrop of unfamiliar noises, and my heart thumped with denial. We seemed to have passed right through the wall itself and against all odds, made it inside the domes without being detected.
Adrenaline spiked my limbs, as my senses were swamped with layers of new sounds and scents: voices, the hum of machinery, and a pungent, metallic smell that filled my nostrils and grated the back of my throat. I hugged my camouflage of pine branches and downy birch close, and tried to ignore the discomfort. We weren’t in Arafel any more.
All the myths I’d grown up with were finally about to draw breath, or explode into tiny suffocating fragments – and I was terrified.
I opened my eyes hesitantly.
The bright spring sunlight was gone, leaving a jaundiced, yellow luminescence in its place. But that was nothing compared with the deafening booming noise surrounding us, like the felling of a dozen giant oaks every second. I inched myself up to peer through my sweet-smelling camouflage, and caught my breath in wonder. There was no preparation for the vastness of the holding bay, or its array of chaotic traffic.
At least half of the huge space was occupied with row after row of complex machinery, and varying sized vehicles. I recognized the Sweepers instantly but the rest were new to me, and equipped with a variety of macabre-looking pincer arms and claw grabs, most of which dangled loosely to the ground. Some of the larger vehicles were pulling loaded trailers, while others stood in line, their ominous cargo concealed beneath bulging tarpaulins and packed craters.
As my incredulous gaze followed their progress down the floor, treehouse-high mechanical arms swung and lifted parts as though they weighed no more than bags of goose feathers in all directions. I blinked as random, piercing lights blazed brightly before receding, illuminating parts of the working arms in clear sequence. Tall men in ventilation helmets shouted out commands as the production lines clanged and whirred together, and waiting trailers collected their goods. Somehow, we’d driven straight into some sort of construction heart of the domes.
A loud shout reverberated directly beneath us, jolting me. I flattened out and Max swore softly as a series of heavily fortified trailers lumbered by. Seconds later I lifted my head again. This time I watched cage after cage of subdued animals pass by: roe deer, rabbits, wild pigs, squirrels, wild dogs, and lemurs among so many others; as well as craters stuffed with young forest plants. There was enough meat to feed Arafel for two winters, but something told me these animals were not intended for such a fate.
The hairs on the back of my neck stirred as I recalled the stories I’d grown up with, the stories about how the live samples were used. I forced myself past the harder question that had chased through my head in the past few minutes: if they were so capable of obtaining their own samples, why did they maintain the charade of trading with Arafel? Was it to do with the Book Grandpa had tried so hard to protect in the forest? What possible interest could it hold for anyone in here?
The procession of trailers was completed with a large black cage of silent capuchin monkeys that stared wide-eyed at their new alien surroundings. I could read their fear in their eyes, and my stomach lurched as one small clinging adolescent turned its hollow-eyed gaze back on me. I stared back until I could no longer make out his tiny features, and the chasm in my stomach yawned.
I turned my eyes skywards to steady my nerve. The roof had to reach five times as high as the Great Oak in the forest, only there was no cornflower sky or stars to blink back. Instead, there was a dirty-white expanse, which stretched on endlessly until it met with a bank of black, oval boxes at the top of the far wall. I watched as they pitched and moved fluidly, as though they were somehow following the action on the floor.
‘Tal, we have to move. They’re getting out beneath us!’ Max urged in a whisper.
He was right. If we were to stand any chance of rescuing them, we had to act now, and act fast.
‘There’s some sort of linen truck next to me. I think we can drop down onto it if we’re quick. They’re exiting the other side,’ he added rapidly.
I nodded and quickly as I dared, shuffled beneath the branches towards the sound of Max’s voice. Only when we were lying side by side did I venture a look. His face was inches from mine, and reflected the queer violet glow of the holding bay. His eyes were sombre and serious, searching mine.
‘Laser guns?’ I whispered, as quietly as I could.
‘Deactivated. Look.’ He nodded in the direction of the large firing devices, which were lying flat on their sides. I nodded and without further conversation he shuffled sideways and disappeared silently over the edge of the vehicle. Panic climbed up my throat. What if he’d been spotted?
Holding my breath, I slid across to the edge and peered over the side. Max was lying unhurt about a metre below me, cushioned by huge bundles of cloth. The sides of the container were higher than its bundled contents, providing better cover than the Sweeper roof. Five seconds later I was cushioned by the same gigantic cloth nest, and for a few seconds we lay there together, as inert as the sheeting around us.
‘He said he destroyed it – you heard him! There was no point bringing him in here.’ The voice was low, steely, and coming from outside the container. I knew in a breath who it belonged to, and sunk my teeth into my bottom lip.
‘Well, let’s just see what Octavia has to say to that,’ responded the Leader in a harsh whisper. ‘They’re vermin, these Outsiders, genetic rubbish. An old one is worth less than the dirt beneath my shoe. And if he’s related to Thomas Hanway, Octavia will want to deal with him personally. Trust me.’
I strained my ears but their voices gradually faded until finally there was nothing but the terrific booming of the machinery. Carefully, I raised my head and peered over the hard, raised edge of the container. We were about three metres off the ground, and across the floor, several covered stretchers were being ferried into a large white hut. Suddenly, all the noise, alien surroundings, and fear receded. It didn’t matter. We’d made it inside against all the odds, and Grandpa and Eli were within running distance.
Rapidly, I gesticulated to Max.
‘We have to follow them,’ I ground out as we both watched the last stretcher being carried through the white doors. My skin prickled with fresh anger. Were any of them still alive? What did the Insiders want with them?
As the hut door closed a tall, tunic-clad woman shouted something numerical to the Leader. I noticed my assailant standing beside him, and scowled.