Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) Read Online Free Page A

good, and I shouldn’t shoot anywhere near here. The man in the statue was one of us. Dad was getting pretty emotional, as if the statue meant a lot to him. Since then, I haven’t aimed at another DZ, real or statue. And I never will. Magic is reserved for big game, practice cans, and our true enemies, Easies.
    I must have fallen asleep, because I wake to the sound of Wick coughing . The air is filled with loud hacking noises that sound wet and painful. Star wriggles her way out of our sleeping bag and curls around him before I can stop her. The mattress bends and I bite my tongue, but at least Wick quiets down in her arms. I turn carefully onto my side and stare at the back of Star’s head in the dark.
    “ Did you see Phoenix tonight?” Wick asks her.
    His voice sounds small and helpless, and a pang of sympathy I’m not used to hits me in the gut. I hold my breath to hear Star answer.
    “Yes, Wicky,” she whispers.
    “ I told you not to call me that!” Wick says. He breaks into a brief but agonizing cough, and Star strokes his arm until it’s over. “Star?”
    “Yes, Wick ?”
    “ Has Phoenix ever been sick?” he asks.
    “Everyone’ s been sick,” Star whispers.
    “Yes, but has Phoenix been sick?” The way Wick emphasizes my name makes me wince. I’ve intruded on a private moment, and now I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Wick lets loose a terrible hack, worse than I’ve ever heard him before. Each cough almost rattles the walls, and my eyes widen in surprise. I had no idea it was this bad. He really has been holding back the worst of his illness from me, and all because he idolizes me so damn much.
    “Of course he’s been sick,” Star whispers.
    “But —really sick? Like me?” he asks, sniffling.
    “ No,” Star says thoughtfully. “You’re fighting something very big. Not many people have faced anything like this.”
    “Really?” he asks.
    “Really.”
    This answer seems to satisfy him, and they snuggle close together. Wick’s awful cough echoes in my mind, and I realize he is stronger than I thought. He’s managed to hide this from me through months of visits. Made me think I’d seen it all. The time Star and I have spent talking about him now feels completely justified, and I don’t just want to cure him for Star’s sake anymore. I want to save him from this pain.
    Wick quiets down again, and I wait in silence for the return of Mrs. Windsong’s light snore. Please, Mrs. Windsong, please be asleep. At the far edge of the mattress, her sleeping bag rustles as if she is about to stand up. I cringe for one tense beat until the rustling stops and her snore finally resumes. I exhale sharply and decide not to stay here and test my luck any longer. I creep out of the sleeping bag, grab my stuff, and tiptoe as fast as I can down the stairs. Gray light pours in through the cracked door, and I jog into the cold.
    The route back home takes me by the Frontier. I reach the wall in a couple of minutes and look it over. It’s as grim as ever. Halfway up the towering concrete wall is a horizontal ledge patrolled by Easy guards. We call them Frontmen. They walk back and forth, each stationed a mile apart between the gates. Their patrols started about ten years ago and, as with everything else, we weren’t told why. I can see one now. He wears a dingy green suit and carries the biggest gun I have ever seen. Like all Frontmen, he is deathly silent. He turns on one heel far above me, and I see a tiny white cloud of breath color the air in front of him.
    Still tense, I run my gloved fingertips along the concrete base to calm down. It feels smooth. I pass a section where someone has spray-painted We Are Not Ghosts in black bubble letters bigger than me. Ghosts, I think, shaking my head. We are not Ghosts. Down here, that word is a scathing slur. It comes from the idea that Easies can’t see DZs, but they know that we are here. Calling someone a Ghost is telling him that his life is worth