“But aren’t all computers linked to a net—”
“No.” Her word cuts through my sentence like an ax. “One of them said she blocked the camera frequency. That’s the time they needed to find and kill you. Whatever those girls did to cover their attempt to murder you backfired because it’s going to cover ours.”
My tongue darts out to lick my dry lips. Networks, frequencies, channels… they all mean nothing to Harvesters like us. I hope Vitelotte is right. If she isn’t, it won’t just be General Ridgeback casting his accusing glare at me.
“Come on.” She swings her legs over the edge of our hideout. “Let’s make a move before they leave without us.”
As she jumps down, I turn my gaze to the oversized drone, which now hovers above the distant trees. Now would be an excellent time to dump the Guardians’ bags.
With the threat of discovery hovering over our heads, the bison herd no longer seems like our biggest threat. We keep to the edge of the field in single file and try not to make eye contact. The huge, brown bovines are larger than any creature I’ve ever seen. This particular breed stands ten-feet-tall. Eleven, if you count the huge humps behind their necks.
Guttural noises, a mix of growls and snorts, fill my ears. I quicken my steps, keeping my eyes front and fixed on the tall conifers a quarter-mile ahead.
As we reach the forest, a deep breath whooshes from my lungs, and the muscles of my shoulders finally relax. I turn my head up to the sky, where the drone broadcasts its message about a mile ahead.
Gentle splashing and the trickle of water reaches us from deeper into the woods. We follow the path of a shallow stream, looking from left to right for lurking contestants, cameras, or predators. Eventually, it leads to a beaver dam, a ten-foot-tall mass of twigs and branches that spans a thirty-foot stretch of water.
“This is it,” says Vitelotte.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“If we continue further along this body of water, we’ll find a deep spot where we can bury these packs.” She points further upstream and explains that beavers burrow into the ground to make the water deeper. Nobody will think of looking here when the girls’ bodies are so far away.
We fill the bags with stones, hurl them into the water, and watch them sink. When we’re satisfied that they won’t rise to the surface, Vitelotte and I continue on our way and follow the passenger drone.
Later, as we continue along a narrow track, a blonde figure walks ahead of us in the distance. She limps with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. Sunlight streaming from the gaps in the canopy makes her hair shine like spun gold. I nudge Vitelotte, who nods. This has to be Emmera.
Both of us break into a run. Emmera turns around and sprints.
“Hey!” I shout. “It’s us.”
She screams.
“Zea-Mays and Lotte,” shouts Vitelotte.
Emmera slows, allowing us to catch up. But the closer we get, the more I realize she’s been hurt. Her left eye is swollen shut and resembles two tomato quarters, but it’s nothing compared to her bottom lip. The camouflage makeup only makes her look worse as it fades over the stretched skin.
My stomach drops. “What happened to you?”
She walks ahead and bends her neck to hide her fresh tears. Vitelotte and I walk on both sides of Emmera, waiting for her to speak. Last night, she didn’t seem so beaten up but we had watched her from up a tree.
Emmera tells us that a group of Noble girls captured her shortly after she landed in the forest. They seized her glider, then forced her to become their pack-mule and gopher. She had to carry their bags, fetch their snacks, and play coal-mine canary by venturing into caves and hidden spots to look for the statuette.
Based on what she understood from the Nobles, the computer tablet pinpointed a number of possible locations for Gaia’s treasure, but many of them contained traps such as snakes or nests of ants.
I lean back and exchange a nervous glance with Vitelotte, but we both remain silent. The hiding-spot we blew up might have just been another trap, which meant the game ended because someone retrieved the statuette.
Emmera hiccups. “They found a cave, but something inside it was growling. It sounded like one of the ligers.”
“Maybe it was an android,” says Vitelotte.
The taller girl stops walking and stiffens. Huge breaths huff in and out of her lungs, and she looks like she’s building up into a rant. But her face crumples, and she wraps her arms around her middle. “I deserve it for flying away when I should have stuck with you. I’ll never put my faith in a Noble again. Those girls were violent and ruthless.”
I purse my lips and continue walking down the track. After helping them hunt me with automatic guns, she’s only realizing this aspect of their personalities now?
The slicing of a drone’s propellers reaches my ears, and its air currents blow against my hood.
“What happened to you two?” Emmera asks.
For the benefit of whoever’s watching, we focus on the parts of our adventure captured on camera and distract Emmera with descriptions of giant crocodiles. The drone guides us in a winding route through the forest, and we avoid meeting any groups of animals. Eventually, we walk up a dirt track that leads to a wooden staircase where the drone hovers close to a bus that stands on massive wheels.
Every ounce of air in my lungs leaves in a relieved breath as the doors hiss open. A single row of double seats runs down its left with a kitchenette down the other side. Like most of the vehicles in the Princess Trials, its windows are blackened. Six girls sit like tin soldiers in the front seats. I check their hands for signs of the golden statuette, but it looks like none
