H124 could see other people milling around in the background among a forest of trees, mounting sensors and taking readings. Raven went on. “The PPC hasn’t touched the other carbon sinks that were planted, just the one outside New Atlantic. But I did learn why they took all those trees.” He clenched his teeth, his jaw set in anger. “Wood came back in style. A fad swept through the PPC execs to decorate their offices in Victorian style. They wanted wooden chairs, wooden desks, and real wood-burning fireplaces. But with most of the trees gone, they were out of luck. Until they happened to spot our forest during a routine New Atlantic perimeter check.”
His voice trembled with rage. “An airship had been sent out to make sure the atmospheric dome was in good repair, and the pilot decided he wanted to see exactly what lay outside the city. So he flew a hundred miles out and found our forest. He knew the PPC had been wanting wood, so he went back and reported it. The next day, they sent orders to harvest the wood and wipe out any competition for it.”
His eyes went black. “My parents died for that. All those animals died, for that. For a fucking fad.” He brought his face closer to the camera. “How are we supposed to save this place, this planet, with that in charge?” He looked away and took a deep breath. “We don’t believe in violence, though I admit there are times when I’m so angry I’m willing to stoop to it. Instead, we’ve come up with a way to keep the PPC troops and airships at bay. We’ve improved our hacking abilities and can take over any airship. During attacks, they haven’t been able to regain control. I’m leaving this PRD here. I’ve made copies for the other forests. I’m not sure who will watch this, but I wanted to keep a record of what’s happened here.”
One of the people working behind him suddenly ran up. Raven lowered his PRD slightly, but she could still see them.
“What is it?”
“We just got word. A PPC airship was spotted nearby. It’s headed this way. We’re not sure if it’s spotted the forest yet.”
Raven called out. “Everybody get your gear. River! Are you ready?”
A woman in the distance nodded, holding up a metallic device.
“Okay, let’s move out! We’ve got to save this place.” He looked back into the camera. “If this is my last fight, please, someone try to save this place. Try to save the other forests.”
The recording ended.
She looked for the next entry, but there wasn’t one. What had happened? They’d obviously been successful in saving the forest, at least for now, because it looked untouched when she and Gordon had landed there. But what had happened to Raven? To the other Rovers? Were they still alive?
She turned off her PRD, returning to the dire reality of her situation. All night she struggled to stay awake, rubbing her arms and legs, as well as Gordon’s. When the first gleaming of dawn appeared on the horizon, dread had filled her. She knew they wouldn’t survive another night. If she couldn’t find firewood, she’d have to think of something else.
Forcing her aching, cold body to move, she rose from her cramped position next to him and began exploring. Her ribs were bruised. Taking tiny breaths, she moved through the powdery snow, feeling the cold wet seeping in through her pants and boots. Every bit of wood she found was soaked. She found some plants that were still alive, leaves covered in snow, but even their wood was thoroughly wet.
She checked her PRD, but found no waiting message from Rowan or Willoughby. She leaned back against the hard granite, feeling colder than she ever thought possible. Pulling her knees up under her chin, she pressed close to Gordon. She went over her options. If she didn’t hear back from Rowan or Willoughby, she’d make a stretcher and drag Gordon behind her until they found dry wood. She’d head down the mountain with him, where the snow would be less deep, and eventually reach bare dirt.
She shivered, pulling Gordon’s blanket over their bodies. He mumbled something, and she turned to look at him. His mouth moved, and his eyes fluttered.
“Gordon?”
He tilted his head away from the wall. It sagged down to his chest. Then he brought up a hand to his forehead. “What . . .”
He shifted under the blanket, and screamed out in pain.
“Don’t move. It’s your leg.”
“Where are we?”
She looked out at the encroaching mist and saw only a world blanketed by snow. “On a mountain.”
“We crashed?”
She nodded.
“Gods, I’m freezing. I can barely move my arms.”
“I tried to start a fire, but everything’s soaked. I pulled some wood in under this overhang, but it’s not drying out.”
He readjusted his position and sucked his teeth in pain. “How long have I been out?”
“About twenty-four hours.”
He leaned over and dry-heaved. “I feel sick to my stomach.”
“You took a bad hit to the head.” She reached inside her jacket and pulled out the water bottle of melted snow. “Here. Drink this.”
He did so, then handed it back to her, wiping his chapped lips on his sleeve. For a minute he sat in silence, eyes adjusting to the light. She saw sadness in his face, and fear. “So what’s the plan?”
“I have two.”
That made him laugh and wince at the same time. “Only two? Let’s hear them.”
“I already called for help, but I haven’t heard back. If I don’t, I’m going to make a stretcher, and we’re going to hike down to a lower elevation.”
“You can’t drag me all that way!”
She set her jaw.
