Emmera’s instructions floats to the top of my mind. Rising toes on the left foot makes the board descend, and the right makes it ascend. I finally get a chance to absorb my surroundings. We’re in some kind of artificial swamp of trees that look like they’re standing on multiple tangled stilts. Their leafy canopies form an arch over the water and tiny lights on their trunks and branches blink on and off, which I guess are cameras.
The trees also form pathways for water that runs more like a stream than a swamp. Birds sing, frogs croak, and cicadas chirp, but there’s no sign of wildlife except for Byron, who won’t stop talking.
“This is one of four stadiums built on the technology of the Botanical Gardens. It’s my first time in the mangrove swamp, and also the first time I’ve been abducted by such a charming young lady,” he says with a chuckle.
“Byron,” I snarl.
“Yes, Miss Calico?”
“If I don’t see my mother in the next thirty seconds, I’ll kill you.”
His shoulders stiffen and he points at something on the far left. “She’s over there.”
“Where?” I press the electroshocker into his jaw.
Byron shudders. “Please, don’t hurt me. If you rise over the trees, we’ll cut across the maze. They programmed her boat to sink around the time she reaches Scorpio.”
I raise the toes of my right foot, and the board soars through the canopy, scratching us as we pass the branches. It takes a bit of tilting from side to side to turn the glider where Byron directs, and I nearly lose him twice.
Deep growling reverberates from somewhere down and to the left.
“Over there beneath that tree.” Byron points at the waterfront.
Scorpio is even bigger in real life than he appears on camera, and twice as monstrous. With his silver-crested helmet, Scorpio stands about six-and-a-half-feet tall, with artificially inflated shoulders broader than General Ridgeback’s.
He tilts his head up to a tree where Mom clings to a thick branch like a frightened kitten. The black armor on his back gleams in the artificial sunlight, and the fabric between its metallic plates ripples as he shakes the trunk.
Byron’s heart beats so hard that I feel its reverberations on my chest. “Don’t attract his attention,” he whispers. “Your mother is perfectly safe up that tree.”
“We’re going to get her.” I shift my weight to the left and turn the board in a wide circle over the water.
“You can’t,” Byron hisses. “This glider can only support the weight of two adults. Add another, and the motor will fail.”
“Right, then.” I stretch out my arms for balance and tilt the board to the side.
Byron screams and drops into the water with a massive splash. I glide up and around the tree and steel myself against Byron’s screams for Scorpio to stay away.
Roots crack beneath us, accompanied by the frantic gasps and the wet smacks of hands slapping a hard surface. Scorpio growls, something else cracks, and Byron falls silent.
I focus my gaze on Mom. Wet, blonde hair clings to her pale face, and her mouth is twisted with terror. Byron is another lost life on my conscience, but I can’t think about that until my family is safe.
Scorpio grunts, and his heavy, cracking footsteps approach us from below. Mom squeezes her eyes shut and whimpers.
I drift close to the trunk. “Mom.”
Her eyes bulge. “What are you doing here?”
“Can you take my hand?” I stretch out an arm.
She shakes her head. “You’re not strong enough to hold my weight. If you can get away on that thing, save yourself.”
“It’s alright.” I drift as close to the tree as possible and hope its leaves and branches don’t catch on the glider’s motor. “They fed us well in the palace, and I’ve built up my strength. Trust me. I won’t let you fall.”
Mom peers down at my board, nods, but doesn’t release her branch. For the next few seconds, I coax her into stretching out an arm. Even when Scorpio’s shaking and crashing against the tree shifts it back and forth by several feet.
I finally get Mom to move her foot toward the board, when Scorpio uproots the tree.
“Zea!” Mom flies out of the branch in an arc and crashes into another tree. Her arms thrash at the branches, but she lands on her back into a tangle of roots.
“Mom!”
I shift my weight to the right and charge toward her. Several feet below, Scorpio stomps over the roots, cracking them with each step. His panting breaths fill the air as we race to reach her first.
Buzzing reaches my ears, and my muscles stiffen. It sounds like jimson wasps. Something white creeps into the edge of my vision, and metallic talons scratch at my back.
I twist around. A drone swipes at my face with robotic arms and nearly catches my eye. I swing a punch at the contraption and knock it out of the sky. The drone swoops down over the water, but another rises up through the trees.
Scorpio reaches Mom first. His massive body covers hers, and I can’t tell what he’s doing to her.
I charge down and thrash at the drones clawing and swiping at my arms and legs and back. They’re a distraction. Mom can’t get hurt. She can’t die.
Scorpio raises Mom off the roots with his pincer and throws her back onto the roots. She rolls into the water, drifts downstream, but gets caught up in more undergrowth. I glower at his broad back, where colored lights flash on and off at the seam between his arachnid exoskeleton and silver helmet.
“Get away from my mother!” I scream.
The monster ignores me and lumbers toward Mom. I charge down on the glider with the electroshocker outstretched. Blue lightning sparks from its tip, and I point it at the metal crest of Scorpio’s helmet.
His roar rings through my eardrums and makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Scorpio lashes
