The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,175

them the alarms still blared, Loriana’s dire announcements still came, and Jeri and Greyson were left looking at each other in an awkwardness that felt embarrassingly trivial considering their current situation.

“I will miss you, Greyson Tolliver.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Jeri,” Greyson said. “You’d better hurry and get to a ship.”

That caught Jeri by surprise. “Wait… but… I’m not going.”

“You’re not?” Greyson said. “Neither am I!”

They stared dumbly at each other again, with a slightly different brand of awkwardness; then Jeri turned to the container ship. It was already too far from the pier to make it a viable option for them now. Besides, Jeri was sure that Greyson had no desire to be a post-mortal Noah any more than Jeri did. Being the Toll had most certainly checked the box on Greyson’s card for “holy religious figure.”

“We should help the others,” Greyson said.

“It’s out of our hands now—there’s nothing more we can do,” Jeri pointed out.

“Then we should find ourselves a place that’s safe.”

“Who wants to be safe?” said Jeri. “Let’s find ourselves a good place to watch the launch.”

* * *

“Attention! Attention! All ships south of Meck and east of Nell are at capacity. Anyone with a boat fast enough to reach Roi-Namur and Ennubirr should head there now.”

* * *

Loriana kept her eyes on the map. Some ships were lit red, which meant they were at full capacity—every space taken, but unable to launch. Some were yellow, partially filled with room for more—but at least fifteen of the outermost ships were not lit at all, which meant no one was inside yet. And not a single one of them showed green.

“Why won’t the ships launch?” she heard someone say.

Loriana turned to see Sykora behind her.

“The ships that are ready need to launch!” he said.

“They can’t,” Loriana told him. “Even with flame trenches to deflect the fire, most everything on the atoll will be destroyed—but the Thunderhead can’t kill anyone in the process. It won’t launch until the launch zones are clear—even if it means the scythes get here first.” She zoomed in on one of the ships. Sure enough, there were still people on the roadways trying to get to ships, people on the streets scrambling to leave their homes. She widened to the larger map. Still not a single green spot. Not a single ship was clear to blast off.

Sykora considered it, then nodded seriously. “Tell people they’ll be incinerated if they don’t get out of the way.”

“But… they won’t be.”

“They don’t know that,” said Sykora. “Loriana, why do you think the Thunderhead needed Nimbus agents? To tell people things they needed to hear, even when it wasn’t strictly the truth.”

Then Sykora looked at the screen and marveled. “You supervised this entire thing from the beginning? Right behind my back?”

“More like under your nose,” she said.

He sighed. “And I built a really nice hotel.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, Bob, you did.”

Sykora took a deep breath, let it out, and took a good look at her. “You should go, Loriana. Get to a ship before the scythes arrive.”

“Someone has to stay here in launch control to tell people where they should go.”

“I’ll do it,” Sykora said. “Ordering people around is what I do best.”

“But—”

“Allow me to be useful, Loriana. Please.”

Loriana couldn’t argue, because she knew that feeling. Wanting to be useful. Not knowing if she was, or if anything she did would be noticed. Yet the Thunderhead had chosen her for this, and she had risen to the occasion. What was Sykora doing now, if not trying to rise to this one?

“Launch control is soundproof and insulated,” she told him. “It will be one of the only safe places on the island. So keep that door sealed and stay inside.”

“Got it.”

“Keep coaxing people toward the empty ships. They don’t need to be full, they just have to have a presence. And do what you can to clear out the launch zones.”

“I’m on it,” Sykora said.

“And that’s it. Now you’re in charge of the big picture.” She looked at the map and pointed to an island to the north. “I can make it to Omelek. There are three ships there, and still room on all three.”

Sykora wished her luck, and she hurried out to the emptying streets, leaving Sykora to watch the screen, microphone in hand, waiting for the ships to go green.

51 On the Sabotage of Dreams

Goddard wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing when Kwajalein came into view. Shining white towers along the rim of a looped