Impact by Rob Boffard Page B

solved. Jordan lets Anna go. She dusts herself off, a small smile creeping across her face.
    A man detaches himself from the crowd. He’s handsome, mid-twenties, with angular cheekbones. He’s dressed in the white jumpsuit of a council member, and he looks exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. Anna’s smile vanishes. Dax Schmidt is the last person she wants to talk to.
    â€œAre you out of your mind?” he shouts at her.
    No
, Anna thinks.
I’ve only got one foot out the door.
She’s on the verge of spitting the comeback right in his face, but he looks as if he wants to reach over and strangle her. His anger is unbelievable, and it stops the words in her throat.
    â€œThat canister could have exploded,” he says. “You could have killed a lot of people.”
    â€œWell, it
didn’t
,” Anna says, furious and embarrassed at the same time. People in the crowd are looking over at her, not even bothering to disguise their interest. “Besides,” Anna says, pointing to Jordan. “They weren’t going to get there in time.”
    â€œWhat? The gas? They were doing fine. They didn’t need extra.” Dax looks back over to the technician–they can see him clearly now that the crowd is dispersing. He’s slotting the panel back on the wall, the plasma cutter by his side.
    â€œBut the stompers were—”
    â€œI don’t know how much you know about plasma cutters,” Dax says. “They use them in space. They last for a really long time. You think the tech couldn’t use a single canister to cut through a couple of fused power boxes?
    â€œBut they—” Anna stops. Every word feels like it takes a year off her age. She wants to tell Dax that she’s killed people. That she had a long gun, during the siege in the dock. But she can’t figure out how to say it without sounding stupid.
    â€œIt’s called a
back-up
, Anna. I sent word to the protection officers to bring it over in case the first one failed.”
    â€œLeave her be, Dax,” says Jordan, turning away. “She’s just a kid.”
    Dax starts to follow, then looks back over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here. Go home.”
    Anna watches him leave. The exhaustion hits her like a punch to the gut, and she slides down the wall, breathing hard. She reaches up, grabs the edge of her beanie, and pulls it down over her eyes. Her blonde hair splays across her cheeks.
    She would do anything to have Riley here right now. Riley, and Carver, and Kev. She has to tell herself, not for the first time, that they’re gone.
    It’s just her.

15
Riley
    I’m breathing too fast. I try to slow it down, but it doesn’t help. Each breath sucks icy air into my lungs, slicing through me like a knife.
    I don’t bother calling Syria’s name any more. I don’t even know if he’s able to respond. Chances are, he’s probably passed out from the pain.
    The wonder I felt at being on Earth has left with the daylight. The sky above me is pitch-black now. I just walk, heading uphill, trying to ignore the fact that nothing around me looks familiar. I laugh, the sound bitter against the wind–it doesn’t matter. This landscape is the same for who knows how many miles in each direction. What were the Earthers thinking, coming down here?
    My thoughts wander too far, and I lose control of my water container.
    I’m already gripping the fabric so hard that my hands are aching and numb. I catch my right foot in a pile of rocks, or a plant root, or
something
, and the fingers on my right hand lose their grip.
    There’s a panicky moment where I’m scrabbling in the dark, half hoping that I can catch the edges again. Then a deluge of icy water drenches my pants. The leaf-filled shirt flops against me, dripping the last of its load onto the frozen soil.
    For a long moment I just stand there, staring out into the darkness. Then I grab the shirt