Uglies (16 page)

Billowing clouds of smoke surrounded her, blotting out the sky. A ragged wall of flame moved through the flowers, giving off a wave of blistering heat. She grabbed her knapsack and stumbled down the hill away from the fire.

Tally had no idea in which direction the river lay. Nothing was visible through the dense clouds. Her lungs fought for air in the foul brown smoke.

Then she spotted a few rays from the setting sun breaching the
billows, and she oriented herself. The river was back toward the flame, on the other side of the hill.

Tally retraced her path to the top of the hill and peered down through the smoke. The fire was growing stronger. Fingers of it shot up the hill, leaping from one beautiful flower to another, leaving them scorched and black. Tally caught the glimmer of the river through the smoke, but the heat pushed her back.

She stumbled down the other side again, coughing and spitting, one thought in her mind: Was her hoverboard already engulfed in flames?

Tally had to get to the river. The water was the only place safe from the rampaging fire. If she couldn't go over the hill, maybe she could go around.

She descended the slope at full tilt. There were a few spots burning on this side, but nothing like the galloping flame behind her. She reached level ground and made her way around the base of the hill, crouching low to the ground to duck under the smoke.

Halfway around, she reached a blackened patch where the fire had already passed. The brittle stems of flowers crunched under her shoes, and the heat coming off the scorched earth stung her eyes.

Her footsteps ignited with flame as she ran through the blackened flowers, like stabbing a poker into a slumbering fire. She felt her eyes drying, her face blistering.

Moments later, Tally spotted the river. The fire stretched in an unbroken wall across the opposite shore, a roaring wind pressing at its back and sending embers flying across to alight on the near side.
A rolling billow of smoke surged toward her, choking and blinding her until it passed.

When her eyes could open again, Tally spotted the shiny solar surface of her hoverboard. She ran toward it, ignoring the burning flowers in her path.

The board seemed untouched by the flame, protected by good luck and the layer of dew it collected every nightfall.

She quickly folded the board and stepped onto it, not waiting for the yellow light to turn green. The heat had mostly dried it already, and it rose into the air at her command. Tally took the board over the river, just above the water, and skimmed her way upstream, looking for a break in the wall of fire to her left.

Her grippy shoes were ruined, their soles cracked like sunbaked mud, so she flew slowly, scooping up handfuls of water to soothe her burning face and arms.

A noise thundered to life on Tally's left, unmistakable even above the roar of the fire. She and the board were caught in a sudden wind, shoved back toward the other shore. Tally leaned hard against it and stuck a foot into the water to slow the board. She clung tightly with both hands, desperately fighting being thrown into the river.

The smoke suddenly cleared, and a familiar shape loomed out of the darkness. It was the flying machine, its thundering beat now obvious above the raging fire. Sparks jumped across the river as the machine's windstorm stirred the fire to a new intensity.

What were they
doing
? she wondered. Didn't they realize they were spreading the fire?

Her question was answered a moment later when a gout of
flame shot from the machine, squirting across the river to ignite another patch of flowers.

They had set the fire, and were driving it on in every way they could.

The flying machine thundered closer, and she glimpsed an inhuman face staring at her from the pilot seat. She turned her board to fly away, but the machine lifted up into the air, passing right over her, and suddenly the wind was too great.

Tally pitched off and into the water. Her crash bracelets caught for a moment, holding her up above the waves, but then the wind caught the hoverboard, much lighter without her on it, and spun it away like a leaf.

She sank into the deep water in the middle of the river, knapsack and all.

•  •  •

It was cool and quiet under the waves.

For a few endless moments, Tally felt only relief to have escaped the searing wind, the thundering machine, the blistering heat of the firestorm. But the weight of the crash bracelets and knapsack pulled her down fast, and panic welled up in her pounding chest.

She thrashed in the water, climbing up toward the flickering lights of the surface. Her wet clothes and gear dragged at her, but just as her lungs were about to burst, she broke the surface into the maelstrom. Tally gulped a few breaths of smoky air, then was slapped in the face by a wave. She coughed and sputtered, struggling to stay afloat.

A shadow passed over her, blacking out the sky. Then her
hand struck something—a familiar grippy surface. . . .

Her hoverboard had come back to her! Just the way it always did when she spilled. The crash bracelets lifted her up until she could grab on to it, her fingers clinging to its knobbly surface as she gasped for air.

A high-pitched whine came from the nearby shore. Tally blinked away water from her eyes and saw that the Rusty machine had landed. Figures were jumping from the machine, spraying white foam at the ground as they crashed through the burning flowers and into the river. They were headed for her.

She struggled to climb onto the board.

“Wait!” the nearest figured called.

Tally rose shakily to her feet, trying to keep steady on the wet surface of the board. Her hard-baked shoes were slippery, and her sodden knapsack seemed to weigh a ton. As she leaned forward, a gloved hand reached up to grab the front of the board. A face came up from the water, wearing some sort of mask. Huge eyes stared up at her.

She stomped at the hand, crunching the fingers. They slipped off, but her weight was thrown too far forward, and the board tipped its nose into the water.

Tally tumbled into the river again.

Hands grabbed at her, pulling her away from the hoverboard. She was hoisted out of the water and onto a broad shoulder. She caught glimpses of masked faces: huge, inhuman eyes staring at her unblinkingly.

Bug eyes.

BUG EYES

They pulled her to the shore and out of the water, hauling her to the flying machine.

Tally's lungs felt full of water and smoke. She could hardly take a breath without a wracking cough shaking her whole body.

“Put her down!”

“Where the hell did she come from?”

“Give her some oh-two.”

They flopped Tally onto her back on the ground, which was thick with the white foam. The one who'd carried her pulled off his bug-eyed mask, and Tally blinked.

He was a pretty. A new pretty, every bit as beautiful as Peris.

The man plunged the mask over her face. Tally fought weakly
for a moment, but then cold, pure air surged into her lungs. Her head grew light as she gratefully sucked it down.

He pulled the mask off. “Not too much. You'll hyperventilate.”

She tried to speak but could only cough.

“It's getting bad,” another figure said. “Jenks wants to take her back up.”

“Jenks can wait.”

Tally cleared her throat. “My board.”

The man smiled beautifully and glanced up. “It's headed over. Hey! Somebody stick that thing to the chopper! What's your name, kid?”

“Tally.” Cough.

“Well, Tally, are you ready to move? The fire won't wait.”

She cleared her throat and coughed again. “I guess so.”

“Okay, come on.” The man helped her up and pulled her toward the machine. She found herself pushed inside, where the noise was much less, crowded into the back with three others in bug-eyed masks. A door slammed shut.

The machine rumbled, and then Tally felt it lift from the ground. “My board!”

“Relax, kid. We got it.” The woman pulled her mask off. She was another young pretty.

Tally wondered if these were the people in the clue. The “fire-bug eyes.” Was she supposed to be looking for
them
?

“Is she going to make it?” a voice popped through the cabin.

“She'll live, Jenks. Make the usual detour, and work the fire a little on the way home.”

Tally looked down as the machine climbed. Their flight followed the course of the river, and she saw the fires spreading across to the other shore, driven by the wind of its passage. Occasionally, the craft would shoot out a gout of flame.

She looked at the faces of the crew. For new pretties, they seemed so determined, so focused on their task. But their actions were madness. “What are you guys doing?” she said.

“A little burning.”

“I can see that. But
why
?”

“To save the world, kid. But hey, we're real sorry about your getting in the way.”

•  •  •

They called themselves rangers.

The one who'd pulled her from the river was called Tonk. They all spoke with an accent, and came from a city Tally had never heard of.

“It's not too far from here,” Tonk said. “But we rangers spend most of our time out in the wild. The fire helicopters are based in the mountains.”

“The fire
whats
?”

“Helicopters. That's what you're sitting in.”

She looked around at the rattling machine, and shouted over the noise, “It's so Rusty!”

“Yeah. Vintage stuff, a few pieces of it are almost two hundred years old. We copy the parts as they wear out.”

“But why?”

“You can fly it anywhere, with or without a magnetic grid. And it's the perfect thing for spreading fires. The Rusties sure knew how to make a mess.”

Tally shook her head. “And you spread fires because . . .”

He smiled and lifted one of her shoes, pulling a crushed but unburned flower from the sole. “Because of
phragmipedium panthera,
” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“This flower used to be one of the rarest plants in the world. A white tiger orchid. In Rusty days, a single bulb was worth more than a house.”

“A house? But there's zillions of them.”

“You noticed?” He held up the flower, staring into its delicate mouth. “About three hundred years ago, some Rusty figured a way to engineer the species to adapt to wider conditions. She messed with the genes to make them propagate more easily.”

“Why?”

“The usual. To trade them for lots of stuff. But she succeeded a little too well. Look down.”

Tally peered out the window. The machine had gained altitude and left the firestorm behind. Below were endless fields of white, interrupted only by a few barren patches. “Looks like she did a good job. So what? They're nice.”

“One of the most beautiful plants in the world. But too successful. They turned into the ultimate weed. What we call a monoculture. They crowd out every other species, choke trees and grass,
and nothing eats them except one species of hummingbird, which feeds on their nectar. But the hummingbirds nest in trees.”

“There aren't any trees down there,” Tally said. “Just the orchids.”

“Exactly. That's what monoculture means: Everything the same. After enough orchids build up in an area, there aren't enough hummingbirds to pollinate them. You know, to spread the seeds.”

“Yeah,” Tally said. “I know about the birds and the bees.”

“Sure you do, kid. So the orchids eventually die out, victims of their own success, leaving a wasteland behind. Biological zero. We rangers try to keep them from spreading. We've tried poison, engineered diseases, predators to target the hummingbirds . . . but fire is the only thing that really works.” He turned the orchid over in his hand and held up a firestarter, letting the flame lick into its mouth. “Have to be careful, you know?”

Tally noticed the other rangers were cleaning their boots and uniforms, searching for any trace of the flowers among the mud and foam. She looked down at the endless white. “And you've been doing this for . . .”

“Almost three hundred years. The Rusties started the job, after they figured out what they'd done. But we'll never win. All we can hope to do is contain the weed.”

Tally sat back, shaking her head, coughing once more. The flowers were so beautiful, so delicate and unthreatening, but they choked everything around them.

The ranger leaned forward, handing her his canteen. She took it and drank gratefully.

“You're headed to the Smoke, aren't you?”

Tally swallowed some water the wrong way and sputtered. “Yeah. How'd you know?”

“Come on. An ugly waiting around in the flowers with a hoverboard and a survival kit?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tally remembered the clue: “Look in the flowers for fire-bug eyes.” They must have seen uglies before.

“We help the Smokies out, and they help us out,” Tonk said. “They're crazy, if you ask me—living rough and staying ugly. But they know more about the wild than most city pretties. It's kind of admirable, really.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess so.”

He frowned. “You guess so? But you're headed there. Aren't you sure?”

Tally realized that this was where the lies started. She could hardly tell the rangers the truth: that she was a spy, an infiltrator. “Of course I'm sure.”

“Well, we'll be setting you down soon.”

“In the Smoke?”

He frowned again. “Don't you know? The location's a big secret. Smokies don't trust pretties. Not even us rangers. We'll take you to the usual spot, and you know the rest, right?”

She nodded. “Sure. Just testing you.”

•  •  •

The helicopter landed in a swirl of dust, the white flowers bending in a wide circle around the touchdown spot.

“Thanks for the ride,” Tally said.