Idols by Margaret Stohl Page B

pointing. He sounds grim, and then I see why.
    What at first looks like a small constellation of stars begins to move overhead—until a ring of lights circles in on itself.
    I freeze, and not because of the cold.
    Choppers.
    I knew they’d come for us, but I thought we had more time.
    “They’re looking for something,” Tima says, studying the distant lights. She’s right. Searchlights sweep the river beneath the Choppers, exposing riverbanks and barren trees and then—
    “Not just something,” Lucas says. “That.”
    The Choppers are swarming something black, lodged in the silt of the river’s edge.
    Black and immobile, too large to be a rock.
    Something more like a Chevro.
    I shiver. “That could have been us.”
    Sympas.
    They’ve found the Chevro.
    They could have found us.
    But they haven’t , I remind myself. The Choppers are far enough away that I can barely hear them rattle, as if they were a child’s toy.
    “Like I said.” Ro smirks. “It was a lucky severed foot after all.”
    “Yeah, well, let’s get going,” says Lucas, watching the Choppers.
    Tima nods. “Before our luck runs out.”

    “There.” Through a wall of trees, I can see a mountain rising, tall and gray.
    “That has to be it. This is where the map ends.” Tima looks around. “Now what?”
    “It’s a game trail,” says Ro, sucking the snow off his shirt. Only animals appear to have beaten this pathway through the brush. But it’s not true , I think as we follow it into the thicket. Farther along the trail, the surrounding tangle of branches opens up to reveal three giant, curving openings, carved right into the solid granite of the mountain. Two of them appear to be largely sealed with fallen rock and rusting metal gates.
    “My god.” Lucas shakes his head. “I’ve heard about these. I just didn’t think it was real. I thought they were stories.”
    “What were?”
    “The old Belter vaults.” Lucas shivers.
    “Belters?” I’ve heard the word, but I don’t know what it means.
    “Bible Belters,” Lucas says. “The people who lived here, before The Day. Here’s where they kept the records of every man, woman, and child ever born on this Earth. At least every one that was recorded, as far back as they could find. Built to last a thousand years, which I guess they figured was long enough to take them to the Second Coming.”
    “Coming of what?” Ro says quietly, staring up at the sheer gray face of the mountain.
    “Of the Gods, coming back to Earth.” I raise an eyebrow. My life on the Mission taught me that much. “I’ve heard of it.”
    “But then we got the Lords instead,” Ro sighs. “Well, they weren’t off by much.” He walks up to the center opening.
    “Where are you going?” Tima starts to panic.
    “Inside.” Ro doesn’t even turn around.
    “Out of the question. Wait—”
    Ro sighs, stopping to lean against a giant fallen boulder. He shivers in spite of himself.
    Tima takes a step toward him. “We need to make a plan.”
    “No.” Ro shakes his head. “What we need is shelter.”
    Tima looks up the mountain, to the craggy wall of granite. “This isn’t exactly a safe place to camp—you see those rocks up there, right? You understand the law of gravity, don’t you?” She’s calculating the odds of Ro’s accidental death, even now.
    Ro nods. “And who knows what wild animals are living in these tunnels? Don’t forget about that. Let’s find out.”
    “Not so fast.” Lucas blocks his path. “We said we’d stick together, and that’s what we’re going to do. We don’t go anywhere until we all agree.”
    Ro raises an eyebrow. “Really, Buttons? You afraid of the dark too?”
    “No. And I’m not afraid of you, either.” Lucas folds his arms.
    “You should be.”
    “Come on,” Tima says.
    “Ro.” I look at him.
    Ro grins at me, blowing on his fingers for warmth. Then he looks over at a nearby bush—and it bursts into flame.
    “Stop that.” Tima sounds exasperated.