The Forsaken

Liam, my arms and legs entwined with his.
    There’s a loud boom as we continue shooting forward. I feel crushing pressure against my chest and my face. We’re moving incredibly fast.
    The journey has begun, and there’s no stopping it.
    I cease screaming. I’m still alive. I feel something underneath us shift. We’re spinning forward as the aircraft containing our pod cuts through the air like a blade.
    Please let us live, I think. Please let us make it out of here, so we can help the others.
    The aircraft finally stabilizes. The air is feeling thinner, and we pass the oxygen mask between us. My body feels bruised. Just as I start relaxing for an instant, Liam begins kicking at the pod’s door.
    “What are you doing?” I ask, startled.
    “We have to find out where we are. Get a look around. If we’re on one of the transport airplanes like I hope, maybe we can take control of it. Free the other kids.”
    He kicks at the base of the door so hard that it springs open, no match for an unfrozen occupant. I grab on to him and follow, as he staggers out of the pod.
    I immediately see that we are indeed inside a cavernous, rattling aircraft, like some sort of ancient cargo plane. Just as Liam predicted. The air is thin and cold here, and my chest burns with every breath.
    All around us are rows of other pods, locked onto circular metal devices to keep them from bouncing around. There are about forty pods total on this aircraft. No sign of any other people. I imagine the plane is automated, like everything else in the Silver Shore.
    “Liam, I’m scared,” I tell him, struggling for air.
    He grabs my hand. “Me too, but we’re gonna be fine.”
    The plane has no windows, just sloping metal sides. But then I spot a small video monitor screen near the front. There’s no access to the cockpit. I’m not sure this aircraft even has one. There’s merely a large metal bulkhead blocking our path. We rush up the aisle toward the monitor together, clutching at metal railings.
    “Look at this,” I hear Liam yell.
    I stare at the screen as I steady myself. On it, I see what looks like a field of blue. It takes me a second to realize that it’s sky.
    Wisps of clouds shoot past, like tendrils of cigarette smoke. I don’t know how fast we’re going, but it’s faster than I’ve ever moved before in my life.
    The plane judders. The video screen suddenly flares with static and then shifts its position. I realize the camera has randomly pivoted downward by about ninety degrees. Now I can see a verdant landmass directly below us.
    “It’s the wheel,” I breathe.
    I see it now, in all its harsh splendor. The island sprawls out below us as we zoom overhead, acres of trees flying past at breathtaking velocity. It looks so green and lush from up here. So tropical, and weirdly peaceful. We must have already passed over the gray zone. It’s hard to imagine there are so many friends and enemies still running around below us, fighting and killing one another over nothing.
    I wonder if David managed to escape getting frozen, given his resourcefulness. Maybe he’s still out there somewhere. I hope that he is, and that somehow he’s okay.
    It’s amazing to get this vantage point of the place where I’ve spent the last few weeks. From above, it doesn’t look scary and terrible. But Liam and I know the truth.
    Even though I’m transfixed by the island view, I can’t wait to be over open water. Until then, I’ll keep thinking that a feeler is going to fly up from the wheel and battle our aircraft.
    As we move faster and faster, the trees give way to white sand and blue-green ocean. The aircraft starts rising higher, the ocean’s choppy whitecaps dropping farther below us. I feel dizzy. We’re probably the first kids to make this journey awake.
    I realize that our chances of finding help are slim. Wherever we’re headed, the people there intend to dissect our bodies. No doubt we’ll face more battles.
    The video screen shifts to straight ahead again, seemingly of its own will, and now the camera just shows blue skies and clouds. I wonder if this plane is how we were taken to the island, while we were still unconscious after the ECT, but before the feelers dispersed us across its surface. Even now that I understand some of the island’s mechanics, the purpose of the wheel is still a mystery to me.
    Liam and I continue to hold each other as the plane blasts its way through the air. There’s almost something comforting