I look down at the hand I grip so tightly in my own. It’s cold and clammy to the touch. My eyes travel up to Taro’s chest, which is swaddled in a tight bandage splotched with blood. His face is pale and also cool to the touch. His condition has remained stable, but far from strong. Billy stands over Taro, having taken over IV bag duty during the journey.

  Within minutes, medics rush onto the roof. Taro is transferred to a stretcher. My throat closes as they begin to wheel him away.

  “Wait!” I jump out of the ornithropter on a landing pad atop a building. The hot, suffocating air of Arizona washes over me. “I’m going with him.”

  The medics hesitate, their eyes flicking between Gun and Anderson.

  “Let her go,” Gun says.

  I nod at him in thanks, rushing off with the medics.

  I barely register the compound around me. I keep my eyes on Taro, willing him to live. Hold on, Taro, I say silently. Don’t you dare die.

  It feels like it takes hours to make our way from the ornithropter pad, through the compound to the medical unit. I try to push my way into the operating room, but a plump woman with kind eyes takes me by the shoulders and propels me to a chair in the waiting room.

  “We’ll take good care of him,” she assures me.

  I get out of the chair and pace, knotting my fingers together. We can’t lose Taro. We just can’t. I can’t.

  A clock ticks on the wall, the second hand so loud I want to rip it down and stomp on it. I don’t, but I think about it for far too long. I think about it long enough to take it off the wall and shove it behind a garbage can.

  Another man in the waiting room watches me. At first, I think it’s my behavior that has him staring. Then I realize it’s my clothes. I’m still in the furs I stole from the New Oleum guards. The first chance I get, I’m going to burn them.

  I feel like I’ve been pacing for three days when Gun enters the waiting room. Tears spring to my eyes as he enfolds me into a hug and squeezes me. I lean into the embrace, drawing comfort from him.

  “He’s stable, Short Stuff,” he says. “He’s going to be okay.”

  I step back, scrubbing at my eyes. “He’s stable?” I repeat, scared to believe.

  “Yes. The surgeons sent a report when I was on my way here. He’s going to be okay.”

  I scrub harder at my face, struggling to stop the flood of tears.

  “Do you want to see him?”

  I nod, throat too tight to speak. Gun puts an arm around my shoulders and guides me through the hospital. He takes me to a small room, where I find Taro asleep in a hospital bed. The heart rate monitor shows a strong, steady beat. Color has returned to his face.

  I can’t help it. I burst into tears.

  Gun wraps me in another embrace, holding me while I sob. The anxiety of these last hours pours out of me, mingling with intense relief over the sight of Taro still alive.

  Gun makes soothing sounds, one hand making small circles between my shoulder blades. He holds me, letting me cry myself dry. The Gun I met in the Cube is here, his friendship solid and unwavering. This makes me cry harder.

  When I finally pull away, he brushes a lock of tear-damp hair from my face.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I rub my face with the stupid furred shirt I wear, trying to dry it. My eyes are swollen, my nose congested. “It’s been an intense ten hours, that’s all.”

  My gaze drifts to Taro, who’s still unconscious. “I’m just glad he’s okay. Thanks for helping him.” If we had left things up to William Anderson, Taro may have died on the floor of the ornithropter.

  Gun shrugs, as if saving Taro was no big deal. “He’s important to you. What’s important to you is important to me.”

  Emotion swells in my chest, so intense that I have to look away. “Thank you.” The words come out as a whisper.

  I pull up a chair beside Taro’s bed and sit down, lacing my fingers with his. Gun sits in a chair on the opposite side.

  “This wasn’t how I ever imagined bringing you here,” he says.

  “You thought about bringing me here?”

  “All the time, Short Stuff. Probably more than is healthy.” His smile is rueful, but not angry.

  “I’m sorry.” I wish there was more to say, but I can’t find the words.

  He shakes his head. “I’m just glad you’re here and safe. Come to think of it, I’m glad all of you are here. Even him.” He gestures to Taro with his chin. “He’s not so bad. He saved my life in New Oleum.”

  “Sounds like Taro. He’s good at saving people.”

  The silent response in Gun’s eyes makes me ache somewhere deep inside.

  I rest my forehead against the bed, closing my eyes to escape the intensity of the moment.

  I must fall asleep like that, my hand laced with Taro’s, because when I open them I find a blanket draped over me. The light in the window has darkened to the purple shades of dusk.

  Gun stands over me. One look in his blue eyes tells me something is wrong.

  “Have you been here the whole time?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His mouth tightens. “Sulan, I need you to come with me.”

  I hesitate, looking at Taro’s sleeping face. I don’t want to leave him.

  “I wouldn’t ask if it could be avoided,” Gun says. “But my dad is insistent and . . . and I think he’s right. I’ll make sure the nurses check on Taro every thirty minutes.”

  I press my lips to Taro’s forehead, then reluctantly release his hand. “I’ll be back,” I whisper to him.

  I walk with Gun, following him out of the medical building and into the compound. Anderson Arms is a tight nest of skyscrapers. The dark gray cinderblock buildings seem to repel the dry desert air. There are people—families—out in the streets. They smile, many of them greeting Gun. He greets them in return, more often than not calling people by their first names.

  The thing I notice is that people look happy. It’s not a forced cheer that comes when having to greet someone in charge, but a genuine, relaxed happiness. I make note of this, holding it up in my mind and comparing it to my time in the Dome. People may have smiled and laughed, but there was always an undercurrent of tension in the air. I don’t sense that in this place, not like I did with Global. I don’t remark upon it, deciding not to draw any conclusions until I’ve been in this place for a while.

  “How many people live here?” I ask in a quiet voice as we pass a family of five. Gun greeted them all by name.

  “Three thousand two-hundred and seventy-six.”

  I let that sink in. “That’s a lot of names to remember.”

  “My father knows everyone’s name. Every. Last. Person.”

  I don’t ask any more questions. I may not know much about Gun’s real-world life, but I do know he and his father are always at odds.

  “Where are the others?” I ask.

  “With my dad,” Gun replies. “He’s been pelting them with nonstop questions. I would say he’s interrogating them, except my dad doesn’t do that without pliers.” The look on his face tells me he isn’t joking. “He would have had you dragged out of the hospital if Li Yuan and my mother hadn’t intervened.”

  I try to imagine my mom taking on William Anderson. Even imaginary, it’s not a pretty scene.

  We exit the main compound and enter what looks like a private estate surrounded by a twenty-foot fence. High on a hilltop sits a sprawling mansion. Presumably I came through this way yesterday, though I have no recollection of it.

  “The Anderson family home.” Gun indicates the mansion with a sweeping gesture.

  Wow. “That’s . . . some home.”

  He doesn’t respond, instead leading me inside and taking me up two floors in an elevator. When the doors open, we are deposited into a long hallway with polished wood floors. Everywhere are garish paintings and bright pieces of furniture with hard angles.

  Gun sees me eyeing the furnishings. “My dad’s wing of the mansion. He’s a fan of post-modernism.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, so I remain silent and attempt to digest the fact that his father has an entire floor to himself. Does every member of the family have a wing?

  Gun leads me into a large room. It looks like an office, with a desk on one side and a scattering of plush chairs on the other. The chairs sit in a semicircle around a dormant fireplace. It’s here I find my friends and family.

  Mom and Dad rush over to me, as does everyone else. Except Maxwell, of course. I let them know Taro is stable.

  Anderson, Maia, and Gun’s mother are also in the room. Standing just behind Maia is a dark-haired girl I’ve never seen before. I recognize another boy with shaggy light brown hair.

  “Nate?”

  He grins at me. “Nice to see you, Short Stuff.”

  “I’m glad to hear Taro Hudanus is recovering,” Anderson says, voice booming. I imagine he talks like this on purpose, to make sure he’s the center of attention. “The young man will make a fine addition to Anderson Arms.”

  I ignore the last part. “Thanks for saving him,” I say.

  Anderson waves a dismissive hand. “You can thank my surgeons. And Ms. Long. Without her work, he wouldn’t have survived the trip from Alaska.” He strides to the center of the room, as though stepping onto a stage. “Your companions have filled me in on all that’s befallen you. Gun tells me you are up to speed on the latest machinations of Reginald Winn.” His face darkens at the mention of the other man’s name. “And now we have a new twist.”

  Gun’s eyes flick first in my direction, then to Billy. My stomach knots, my brain scrambling in an attempt to anticipate what this new twist could be. What else could Mr. Winn have done? It’s not enough that he’s taken over the White House and deployed the pneumonic plague across the United States?

  Anderson crosses the room at a measured pace, drawing out the moment. I curl my hands into fists, the nails biting into my flesh. He pauses, resting one hand on a doorknob of an adjacent room. There is no doubt in my mind that he is purposely making us wait.

  “We had an unexpected visitor just arrive. I think you will all be interested to meet her.” He pulls open the door.

  In the adjacent room stands a girl. She is tall, with cropped red hair and a thin build. A dusting of freckles covers her nose and cheeks. Puffy circles line the bottom of her eyes. Her face is wan, like she hasn’t eaten or slept well. A thin layer of grime covers her from head to toe, her clothes ripped and rumpled. She braces herself with one hand on the doorframe, clearly exhausted on her feet.

  “Hank!” Billy’s shout is echoed by mine. The two of us rush toward her.

  Before we reach her, she sways on her feet. “Timmy.” Her broken whisper makes my insides crumple. “Timmy, he’s—” Hank’s eyes roll back in her head, and she collapses.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to all my awesome peeps for helping to make this book the best it could be.

  Heather Crabtree

  Chris Picott

  Chrissy Wolfe @ EFC Services, LLC

  Saundra Wright

  FREE BOOK!

  Get Hacker, the prequel to the Sulan series

  ebook & audiobook formats available

  Her family teeters on the jagged edge of poverty.

  Hank must barter her hacker skills for food and rent money.

  All she has to do is work that is illegal. And deadly.

  If she turns a blind eye, people will die. If she acts and gets caught, she and her family will pay the ultimate price.

  Hacker is the novella prequel to Sulan, a fast-action YA dystopian series. It can be enjoyed at any point in the Sulan series.

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  About the Author

  Camille Picott is a fifth-generation Chinese American. She's been writing novels since she was twelve years old. Among her books you can find Asian-inspired science fiction and fantasy novels, zombies stories, and how-to manuals for speculative fiction authors.

  Camille loves cooking and running absurdly long distances. It's not unusual to find her chopping veggies in the kitchen late at night or hitting the trail in her running shoes long before the sun rises. She considers sleep to be optional and largely overrated.

  Visit Camille at

  www.camillepicott.com

  or follow on Facebook @ultrawriter

  Other Works by Camille Picott

  Available on Amazon, Kindle Unlimited, and Audible

  The League

  Sulan, Episode 1

  Buy @ Amazon | Buy @ Audible

  No student is safe.

  All Sulan wants is a way to defend herself.

  Is that so much to ask in a world gone sideways?

  But she is told to focus on her studies. No matter that her mother fought in underground cage fights as a teenager. She won’t even let Sulan look at weapons, let alone learn how to use them.

  Virtual reality is Sulan’s only recourse. But training in virtual reality requires Touch, an illegal technology that will land her in serious trouble if she’s caught. Even worse, it could get her killed if she’s not careful.

  Sulan is willing to take that risk.

  Risk Alleviator

  Sulan, Episode 2

  Buy @ Amazon | Buy @ Audible

  He was created for war.

  When that fails, he is condemned to death.

  He is saved by a kind doctor. The human teaches him to use his deadly talents to protect and defend, rather than to maim and kill. He is given a name: Riska.

  He is entrusted with the safekeeping of a teenage girl named Sulan. When she is kidnapped, Riska must rely on all his training and instinct to find her. If he fails, Sulan will die—and Riska could find himself at the mercy of those who want him dead.

  The Dome

  Sulan, Episode 3

  Buy @ Amazon | Buy @ Audible

  There is a League mole in the Dome.

  Sulan will stop at nothing to find him.

  If that means breaking into a high ranking mercenary’s house, she’ll find a way. If that means helping her friends build an illegal Vex modem, she’ll cover for them. If that means planting an illegal device right under Mr. Winn’s nose, she’ll gladly volunteer.

  If Sulan is discovered, her family risks expulsion from their protected life in the Dome. But if she can’t find the mole, everyone’s life in the Dome is at risk of another League attack.

  Touch

  Sulan, Episode 4

  Buy @ Amazon

  Lie. Steal. Swindle. Seduce. Kill.

  These are the things Gun Anderson does best.

  He does it all at the command of his father. Gun is nothing more than a well-trained attack dog. He despises the wreckage his work leaves behind.

  Everything changes when he is ordered to befriend Sulan Hom and infiltrate Global Arms. He approaches the mission with detached coldness. But he soon discovers a budding friendship with Sulan. The more time he spends with her, the more he cares for her.

  If Gun follows orders, he will betray Sulan and lose her. If he defies his father, he will be subjected to the same harsh punishment reserved for the disobedient. Can Gun outmaneuver his father and win Sulan’s trust?

  Escape

  Sulan, Episode 5

  Buy @ Amazon

  Sulan is in possession of a secret—a secret that has earned her a powerful enemy.

  She and her companions are forced to flee the Dome. Pursuing them through the unrelenting Alaskan wilderness are Global mercenaries. Reginald Winn will stop at nothing to silence her.

  If Sulan wants to survive, she must turn to Gun, a corporate spy who posed as her friend. Can she trust him to help her escape, or will he seek to use her once again for his own gains?

  Death Match

  Sulan, Episode 6

  Training.

  That’s what Taro remembers from his childhood.

  Trained to steal. Trained to fight. Trained to kill. Trained to survive.

  And now, he finds himself an unwilling participant in underground death matches. His fights are aired in Vex for profit. Taro must rely on every ounce of skill to survive. But survival exacts its own price, and Taro finds himself faced with impossible choices.

  Meanwhile, Sulan searches desperately for Taro. If she fails to find him, everyone she loves could be lost.

  Undead Ultra

  Buy @ Amazon | Buy @ Audible

  Undead: a reanimated corpse with a craving for human flesh.

  Ultramarathon: any footrace longer than a traditional marathon (26.2 miles).

 

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