Against the Red Sky: Mission X – Book Tour and Giveaway

Sardeth’s Reach

Maddie’s cuff flashed: emergency. She squinted past the alert to the outline of the water exchange warehouse ahead, adjusting the weight of her hydration pack as sweat poured down her back. Today’s rations wouldn’t distribute themselves, and she’d promised Stephie she’d cover the afternoon shift—no time for emergencies.

She pedaled more slowly, watching if the few other people out in the baking sun seemed bothered by an alert. Her cuff might be malfunctioning. A man leaned against the wall up ahead, arguing with another man sitting on a milk crate. A woman pushed a shopping cart filled with tires across the street. None of them seemed bothered by much of anything, but none of them wore cuffs either.

It flashed again. “Code Red. Seek shelter immediately at the compound.”

She never stopped in this neighborhood until she reached the warehouse, but now she rested both feet on the ground, her heart pounding.

“Is that gadget saying you’re lost?” The man leaning against the wall flashed a cold smile.

She ignored him and tapped her cuff. The alert didn’t go away. Code red. A credible threat. This didn’t feel like a drill. Was it a threat on her life? She spun her bike around. She’d text Stephie to explain as soon as she made it back to the penthouse, but now she listened for screeching tires or other signs that someone was closing in on her as she pumped her pedals harder.

A news helicopter thundered overhead, chopping the air as it carved a path back toward Center City. Her path. Her cuff flashed again; the device’s incessant plea sent her pedaling so fast her chest burned. As she passed Rittenhouse Square, a new fear set in; she’d made it back from Kensington with no interruptions. If this wasn’t a threat to her life—Maddie gripped her handlebars, needing to feel something solid. Where was Uncle Gus? They’d talked days ago. A business trip, somewhere in the Pacific, checking on some assets. Routine. Nothing to worry about.

Maddie’s stomach dropped as she skidded onto the sidewalk in front of her building. Mr. Henry burst outside. His cuff also blaring red. “Inside!” he shoved her bike at an attendant as he pulled her through the door.

Breathless, Maddie choked out. “What happened, Mr. Henry? Is he ok?”

The doorman shook his head vigorously. “Of course, he has to be fine.”

Maddie nodded. He had to be fine; couldn’t be dead on an island in the middle of nowhere. Too many people depended on him.

Mr. Henry shuffled Maddie into the service elevator. “Might already be cameras in the lobby.”

Sound seemed muffled as the doors closed, and the air in the elevator felt too thin, like when the atmospheric stabilizers in the domes malfunctioned. But Maddie only guessed what that felt like by gauging the depth of the dark shadows under her mother’s eyes and the exhaustion in her voice as she explained there was nothing to worry about, just recalibrating the machines. Routine processes and all that. Her mother would put on that exhausted smile, a constant reminder that up there, the most basic elements of survival required constant vigilance.

Vigilance and uninterrupted supply missions.

But there must be a plan to keep the colony going if something happened to him. A detailed plan, in binders with color-coded tabs. Copies in triplicate. Certainly, there was a plan. Maddie just wished she could see it now. The next shipment of life-giving supplies would go out on schedule. No disruptions. That would be spelled out in the plan. But many times, she’d heard rushed conversations in hushed tones behind his office door, negotiating for this and that to ensure the colony had what it needed. He’d tried to keep those conversations private, but Maddie knew. She kept tabs. Supplies were running low.

Maddie’s chest burned, each breath seeming to bring less oxygen than the last. Without Uncle Gus orchestrating the supply chain, how long until those careful calibrations failed completely? Her mother had never seemed farther out of reach than she did right now.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Maddie pulled off her bicycle helmet, which suddenly seemed too tight for her head.

“Should I send up someone to sit with you?”

Mr. Henry’s face seemed distorted in size.

“I’m fine,” Maddie answered.

She didn’t remember walking to the door and opening it, but found herself standing in the foyer of the penthouse apartment, the whirl of the chopper blades vibrating through her body like an uninvited guest.

Massive dragonflies. No, that didn’t make it better. A tornado roaring in from somewhere hot and dry. Drier. Also not better. Maddie covered her ears, fighting to block each whomp, whomp, whomp. How close were those blades to the house? Damn company better have great insurance. She made her way to the window and peeked behind the curtain. A telephoto lens longer than her arm stared back. Snap. She yanked the curtain closed. How fast would they circulate that picture? What headline would they use?

Billionaire Missing, Niece Distraught

That would get the clicks.