Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) Read Online Free Page B

nothing. I’ve never used the word.
    I walk past the humo ngous G , then the H , still dragging my fingertips through the letters. Instead of an O , someone has spray-painted a giant black arrowhead with two white eyes. That symbol means the Shadows have been here. I shiver.
    After the Blackout, class divisions disappeared. Skills meant more than money, and the best survivors were initiated into a new elite: the Shadows. They are the smartest hunters and strongest fighters in the Dark Zone. No one knows how many there are, and I’ve only ever seen a few. They stick to themselves. At night, during the rounds, sometimes we tell each other stories about them from the scraps we’ve seen or heard.
    Last month, the two Rosens said they witnessed Shadows in training. At least, it looked like training—or an initiation—we don’t know. Chasing big game, Flint and Lightning had trekked all the way to the ocean. A week-long journey. As they approached the beach dunes, exhausted, they saw a Shadow standing sturdily with his feet spread apart in the sand. It was dawn. Frigid ocean waves ran up the beach and wet his bare feet up to the ankles. He wore all black leather, like all Shadows seem to, and had thick black lines drawn from the outer corners of his eyes to his temples. The Rosens flattened themselves against the dune and studied him. This Shadow oversaw a line of boys and girls about my age as they lay arm in arm in the surf before him. He watched waves lap over their shivering bodies for an hour.
    I ’ve only jumped in the ocean once, but I remember it knocked the wind out of me. Bitter cold pushed every bit of air out of my lungs, and it was the closest I’ve ever felt to death. If the Shadows can endure something like that, who knows what else they can do.
    “Phoenix!” someone calls.
    Down the wall, Mrs. Brown jogs toward me. Half of all the Browns who are left. She’s a fast-talker with wide shoulders and biceps bigger than mine, and her husband’s the soft one who form-fits around her. A basket of false tinder fungus scratches against her gray parka as she moves. She stops right in front of me, looking concerned.
    “Sorry for not visiting last night,” I mumble.
    She holds me firmly like a mother would. She’s strong enough to have kids, but she never had any of her own. Said she didn’t want to bring more DZs into a world this harsh. Mr. Brown agreed, like he always does, but I wish they had their own children to love them. Now that Wick is sick, all they have are Star and me. Everyone else in Dark DC is older than we are. So we do our best with Mrs. Brown, but it’s not family.
    “Did something happen?” Mrs. Brown asks. “Is Star okay?”
    “Yeah, something happened,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. She waits for me to finish, but I don’t know how to say it. The whole thing sounds impossible, even to me. And I was there.
    “Phoenix, I’ve never seen you like this,” she whispers.
    “It’s about the eighth family,” I say uncomfortably. “I can’t explain it.”
    “Did they try to hurt you?” she asks. Her eyes narrow defensively above her broad nose. Her grip tightens on the basket.
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Brown,” I say to explain. “You just have to see it for yourself.”
    “See what for myself?” she asks.
    “Their shelter,” I say. “It’s different.”
    She eyes me skeptically. “Then I’ll go have a look,” she says.
    “Watch from somewhere safe,” I say clearly. “Don’t go inside.”
    “Okay, son,” she says. “Will you be able to visit tonight?”
    “Of course,” I say. “Tonight, we’ll talk about everything. Once you’ve seen it.”
    She rubs my arm and squeezes my elbow. I wish I could tell her about the electricity, but this is the best I can do.
    We walk in our separate directions. I hope Mrs. Brown doesn’t think I avoided her questions on purpose. No, she’s smarter than that. She’s the best game tracker in Dark DC. She taught me