the sand beneath him, humming with some terrible power. Here.
The world erupted into violence. For a moment, Conner thought the bomb had gone off, that Yegery had triggered it with his band, that this was what it felt like to die in a blast, a split second of noise and a jolt of pain and a flash of light. He had told the sand what he wanted, had built up the vision in his mind, pictured it like a coiled spring, ready to unleash. But he had to go and say something as the connection hit. He saw a gun come up, the flash of light and a loud noise, so fucking stupid, a burst of agony in his chest, shot, falling backward into the sand, but the sand wound tight in his head and exploding out in the shape hed imagined, inspired by that column with the bomb on it.
That column of sand with the sphere inside collapsed. The silver ball rolled across the blood-soaked sand toward Vic. Five other columns had shot up, sharp points of stonesand beneath each of the men, impaling them, one of them screaming and writhing before falling silent, all of them quickly dead.
Conner groaned and held his chest, cursing himself. Beneath him, the sand slipped and swirled as he lost his concentration, his connection with his fathers boots. He ripped the band off, and the world was mostly still. Just the thrumming of his pulse and the agony of the wound.
Easy, Vic said. She was beside him. She ripped the dive suit along a seam, opened it up to inspect the wound.
Im gonna fucking die, Conner whimpered.
Vic swept his hair off his forehead. Youre not gonna die, she said. Its not that bad.
Conner kicked the sand in pain. It feels fucking bad, he said. He watched as his sister surveyed the mess all around them, the towers of gore that her brother had made.
Ive seen worse, she said.
55 A Deep Discomfort
The dive suit was cut away from him with a knife, the wires in the fabric popping as they were severed. That suit would never move the sand again. Vic stood and left his side and ran over to shoo someone away from the metal sphere, telling them not to touch it. She didnt dare touch it either. Instead, she searched one of the impaled men and found her visor and band. Conner watched as she loosened the sand and sent their bodies beneath the market floor. She buried the bomb in the sand so no one could move it.
Thank you, Conner said, as the man with dreadlocks finished wrapping his chest and his arm with scraps torn from a t-shirt. Conner managed to wiggle his fingers, which comforted him somewhat. But it still felt like hed been kicked by a goat. One whole side of his body ached. His feet grew warm, and he realized the boots were still on. As he kicked them off and reached in for the power switch, he caught Vic eyeing them.
Rob, Conner said, as if that would explain everything. He remembered yelling at his brother for fooling around with their dads boots. The shoes had been nothing more than a memento for years and years, just sitting in a corner or shoved under a bed. Now they had saved Conners life. Several times. Instead of yelling at his brother, he shouldve thanked him. He would thank him. And he would have his brother wire up the fucking power switch where it was easier to reach.
Vic clasped her dreadlocked friend on the arm. The man used his teeth to tear more of a shirt into strips of cloth, then surveyed the market, looking for someone else who needed tending to.
Can you stand? Vic asked.
Conner nodded, but he wasnt sure. He got his boots back on, and Vic helped him up. He swayed there. The sight of his blood on the sand made him feel sick. His mind went to Gloralai, the sudden panic of how close hed come to never seeing her again. And then a flush of guilt that hed think of a classmate before thinking of his mother and his family. What now? he asked. None of these guys was the one we were looking for, was he?
Im guessing hes long gone, Vic said. The guys who give the orders never get whats coming to them. Theyre the Lords in their towers, the brigands back in their tents while someone else blows themselves
to pieces.
And that was the bomb? He nodded to the spot in the sand where shed buried it. Vic guided him toward the spot, an arm around his waist, letting him lean on her.
How long before it goes off?
I dont think it will, Vic said. Damien said it has to be squeezed to go off. Like making marbles for a child.
Conner thought of how some divers could force sand together so fast that a tiny perfect sphere of glass would be formed. Seems like a weird way to set off a bomb, he said.
Yeah, Vic agreed.
We cant just leave it here.
No, she said. Well have to take it with us.
And bury it as deep as we possibly can, Conner suggested.
His sister shook her head. She looked at the people coming out from their stalls and homes to see what the commotion had been about. She turned and squinted into the wind, gazing out toward the east.
Weve got to do something with it, she said. Weve got to do something.
56 A Place to Rest
There were things that could not be contemplated, he realized. There were potential truths too costly to bear. It wasnt until after the body was scarred by a brush with danger that it learned fear. Conner thought of all the untouched places on his soul yet to teach him something. All the unblemished parts of him waiting for that razor of truth.