Winterbay Read Online Free Page B

she had never visited, and why she was so nervous now.
    The city loomed closer. It was free from the ice, but even so, it didn’t move or rock. The thick, slushy waves lapped and beat against the exterior, but the city paid it no mind. Whether because of its anchors sunk deep below or because it was so solidly built, Mira was unsure.
    She followed the ferry’s ropes with her eyes as they disappeared into holes in the wooden dock that was now apparent in front of them. On its other side, a second ferry, loaded with survivors, all kids and teens, was preparing to return to shore, its own ropes stretching back the way Mira had just come.
    Past the dock, there was a large archway, and Mira could see something hanging from it, lit up with strobes for all to see: a single huge gear or cog, painted in blue and white, the ominous symbol for Winterbay, one that spoke of the city’s reliance on, and dedication to, the mechanical ways of the past.
    A line of people stretched to that archway and that giant cog, where city guards meticulously searched everyone who entered, looking for weapons and artifacts and other contraband. Mira swallowed at the sight. The time had come. She was about to learn if she had gotten here fast enough, if she’d beaten the swirling rumors of her crimes and the huge reward that was undoubtedly now on her head.
    Everything, all her plans, rode on that hope.
    Mira exited the ferry with a dozen other survivors and joined the line waiting to be searched. In fifteen minutes, she was through, staring at the impossible floating city of Winterbay. The guards hadn’t given her a second look.

Winterbay
    Mira moved through the tight, winding streets of the city, trying not to look like an outsider as she brushed past hundreds of residents, but it wasn’t easy, mainly because she couldn’t help but stare around her in awe. Compared to the subterranean metropolis of Midnight City, Winterbay was a completely different animal.
    There was no ceiling of thick black cavern rock; instead it was built “upward,” into the open air. The night sky hung above the city, full of stars and the blackened masses of occasional clouds. Somehow, it made Mira feel even more isolated and exposed.
    Buildings and levels climbed upward all around, as high as six stories, and no two of them did it in the same way. They leaned or curved, some obviously built better than others, and a few even had ropes anchoring them to the deck to keep them from falling over.
    Between the buildings, precarious-looking bridges made of rope and wood and other materials stretched, and Mira saw they were just as full of people, swaying back and forth.
    Everywhere was evidence of electricity. Thick black power cables crawled over the street, climbing up the sides of buildings, and disappearing into holes that led down to the Underworks, where the city’s old ships rested in the dark. The warm glow from electric lights hovered inside the buildings. The shops and eatery stalls she passed had their names lit in colorful letters that stretched and wound ahead of her, painting everything in humming neon. The flickering illumination from old television sets reflected in Mira’s eyes, showing movies from the World Before. Kids huddled around video games or arcade machines; music streamed from stereo sets.
    As she took it all in, Mira felt a sudden stirring of melancholy. The city was amazing, if only for the history it kept alive. It was a living museum, and it was strange to witness. Each individual sight or sound was a memory of how things used to be, a recollection of times that were gone but could still be remembered. They were things she could encounter outside Winterbay, of course, but only rarely, and the combined force of them, all at once and all around her, was almost overwhelming. Here, in certain ways, the world hadn’t moved on. It was both heartening and sad at the same time.
    Mira forced her thoughts to the business at hand. The faster she got