Reached

black, wave up at us. We’re flying lower now, and I can see people looting and pushing against weak places in the fence. The barricade is about to be breached. Even from up here, I can feel the panic.
    “The situation has deteriorated too much to land,” our commander says. “We’ll do a supply drop.”
    I have to admit that there have been times when I wished something bad would happen to the people of the Boroughs in Oria. Like the time the Society took me away and no one but Cassia ran after me. Or when the people laughed during the showings because they didn’t understand death. I never wanted to see
them
die, but I would have liked for them to know how it felt to be afraid. I wanted them to know that their easy lives had a cost. But this is terrible to see. Over the past few weeks, the Rising has lost their grip on the people
and
the Plague. They won’t say what’s happened, but something has. Even the Archivists and traders seem to have completely disappeared. I have no way to get a message to Cassia.
    One of these days, I’m not going to be able to resist flying to Central.
    “The most secure area is located in front of City Hall,” says the commander. “We’ll make the drop there.”
    “Are we dropping all our supplies at City Hall?” I ask the commander. “What about the Boroughs?”
    “Everything in front of City Hall,” he says. “It’s the safest way.”
    I don’t agree. We need to disperse the supplies, or it’ll be a bloodbath. People are already trying to break through the barricade. When they see us drop, they’re going to want to get inside even more, and I don’t know how long the Rising can hold off having to use violence in a situation like this. Will they send the fighters in like they had to do in Acadia?
    Indie and I are last in the formation, so we circle around again while the others make their drop. We’re outside of the City proper now, moving back in over the Boroughs. As we do, I see people coming out of their homes to watch us fly. They’ve obeyed the Rising’s commands to stay put and wait instead of coming to the barricade.
    And it means they’ll likely starve, while the others at the walls fight over the supplies we’ve brought.
    I feel a fierce, unexpected surge of sorrow and loyalty to the people of the Boroughs. They try to follow orders and do the right thing. Is it their fault everything is such a mess?
    No.
    Yes.
    “Prepare the drop,” the commander says. We’ve never done this before—left supplies without landing—but we’ve trained for it. There’s a hatch in the belly of the ship where we can let the cargo out.
    “Caleb,” I say, switching on the speaker that goes down into the hold. “Are you ready?”
    There’s no answer.
    “Caleb?”
    “I’m ready,” he says, but his voice sounds off.
    I’m the pilot this time, so I’m in charge. “Go see what’s wrong with him,” I tell Indie. She nods and walks over to the hold, her balance perfect even with the motion of the ship. I hear her open the hatch to the hold and go down the ladder.
    “Is there a problem?” the commander asks.
    “I don’t think so,” I tell him.
    “Caleb doesn’t look good,” Indie says a moment later, reappearing from the hold. “I think he’s sick.”
    “I’m all right,” Caleb says, but his voice still has a hint of strain in it. “I think I’m having a reaction to something.”
    “Do not drop your cargo,” the commander says. “Return immediately to the base.”
    Indie looks at me and raises her eyebrows.
Is he serious?
    “I repeat,” he says, “do not drop cargo. Report immediately back to the base in Camas.”
    I look at Indie and she shrugs her shoulders. I ease the ship around and we fly over the people. I was coming in low for the drop and so I can see their faces turned up to watch us. They look like baby birds waiting for food.

    “Here,” I say to Indie, gesturing for her to take over the controls. I go down to check on Caleb.
    He’s not strapped in anymore. He stands at the back of the hold, his hands pressed against the side of the ship, his head bent down, every muscle tight in agony. When he looks at me I see fear in his eyes.
    “Caleb,” I say. “What’s happening?”
    “Nothing,” he says. “It’s fine. Go back up above.”
    “You’re sick,” I say. But with what? We can’t get the Plague.
    Unless something went wrong.
    “Caleb,” I say. “What’s happening?”
    He shakes his head. He won’t tell me.