Midnight City by J. Barton Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page B

without lifting a finger. The only ones left to make your ‘stand’ are kids, most of them younger than us, and hardly any of them know anything about fighting. Not to mention we all seem more interested in killing each other than uniting and really facing them. The Tone takes more of us every day, and pretty soon, there’s not gonna be anyone left.”
    “That’s easy for a Heedless to say,” Mira replied. “Someone who isn’t living with a ticking clock in their head, counting down the moments before they lose their mind.”
    The words stung Holt, and his calm detachment melted away. He turned to the girl, could see her more clearly now in the dark. She was staring right at him.
    “You don’t know what it’s like,” she went on, “to have the static inside your head, to have it growing and clouding everything. You don’t know the fear of hearing the voices … and listening to them slowly start to make sense. If you did you might be a little more motivated to find a solution rather than just hiding out here in the forest like a coward.”
    Holt glared at her, felt the anger (and the old pain) form and course through him. “I know more about the Tone than you can imagine,” he said venomously. “I know more about it than anyone has a right to, trust me. This conversation’s done. We’ll get to Midnight City in three days, which means we’re going to move fast and hard. I suggest you get some sleep, unless you want to be dragged all the way there. I won’t have a problem doing it if I have to.”
    Mira didn’t respond. He held her gaze until she finally looked away.
    Satisfied, Holt rolled over. His hands trembled. He knew it would be a while before he could sleep. He wouldn’t let her see how much of an effect she’d had on him, though. He had to appear strong, in control.
    He hated this anger, because it was always tied to the memories. They were harder to push away when he was angry.
    To his right, Max whined slightly. He watched Holt with his big round eyes, tilting his head sideways as he did. Holt reached out and petted the dog, scratched his ears. Max was a good judge of Holt’s mood, and there was something about that that Holt liked. At least someone understood him.
    When he withdrew his hand, the dog looked back to Mira, watching her like a hawk. Holt closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the sound of the wind in the leaves and the chirping of crickets. If he could calm down, maybe he wouldn’t dream about her tonight.…

 
    8. DREAMS
    A YOUNG HOLT, no more than twelve years old, exploded through the front door and out onto the lawn of the house they’d given his parents at Fort Connor. A quick glimpse of the living room clock as he ran past told him it was close to one in the morning.
    Outside, the alert sirens were even more jarring. They were blaring all over the base, and he could see lights flickering on in windows up and down the street.
    His sister, Emily, a tall brown-haired girl who was almost seventeen, stood with their father and mother at the edge of the house’s small lawn. His dad was already wearing his fatigues.
    Holt saw more people filling the streets, struggling into their uniforms and clothes. Civilian wives and children, too, all coming to look, all confused.
    When Holt reached Emily, she took his hand, put her finger to her lips, signaled him to be quiet.
    His mother spoke with her soft voice, but it was shaky with a kind of nervousness Holt had never heard before. He didn’t like it.
    A sound like rolling thunder reached them from far away. They looked toward the sound, past the buildings of Fort Connor to the skies above Denver. The sparkling lights of the buildings could be seen from the base. Masses of storm clouds had formed above the city … and they glowed in strange light. A dull reddish orange, almost like they were burning inside. Holt stared at them in wonder.
    Everyone in the streets around Holt froze at the sight, listening to the long