The jolt down my legs sparked the rest of my body painfully awake. My throat was on fire, feeling like I’d swallowed hot coals whenever I coughed.

Where am I?

I heard a creaking sound, echoing through whatever hallway I was in. I lifted my head to look.

Why the hell am I on the floor?

The front door of my house was swung open, swaying gently in the breeze. Beyond the door was darkness, with the sound of the city night coming in from the outside.

I lay back down flat; just lifting it for that long was making it throb. I tried my arms next.

Why does everything hurt? What happened?

I told my body to roll onto its side, which took a couple of sluggish seconds for it to respond. But it did, propping myself on an elbow to look around. I felt something slide off my chest, clanking onto the hardwood floor.

What was that?

I looked down at the black business card on the floor, and it all hit me at once. The cloaks. The white masks. The syringe.

Skylar.

My body listened and responded immediately this time. I pushed up to my knees, then stood, still looking at the card by my feet.

How did this get here? Where is everyone else? I’m going to throw up.

The wave of nausea hit me like a truck. The world kept spinning faster as I stumbled in place. I missed trying to grab a couch that I’m not sure I was anywhere near.

Way too fast. Whatever was in that syringe is not gone yet.

I dropped back to a knee, closing my eyes. I still felt like I was in one of the Blitz’s storms despite trying to breathe to avoid hurling all over the living room.

The nausea from whatever I’d been injected with soon passed, replaced by nausea from remembering everything that had happened. I grabbed the black card, the metal not cold between my fingers. My chest must’ve warmed it while I was passed out.

I stood much more slowly this time until my shaky legs felt closer to normal. I took a few deeper breaths until my body felt like it wasn’t going to crash back down to the floor, then looked at the card in my hand.

10/14/2056.

301 Gravel Drive.

This one is for you.

The sense of dread that had already crept in set in fully now. My shaking hand made it a little harder to reread the white print as I walked into the kitchen. Everything looked just as it had before the crash had come from the front door. A bag of chips, plates, and the other stuff from the pantry sat undisturbed on the counter. The stool Skylar had been sitting on was pulled away from the counter, the holotab in front of it. The holotab’s screen was dark now; whatever game she’d been playing was gone now.

I tapped on it, revealing the profile sign-in screen. A large clock hovered, projected by a light near the top of the tablet.

11:38 p.m.

That told me two things: I’d been knocked out for over four hours, and the date on the card was twenty-two minutes away.

I picked up the tablet and chose my profile, then clicked on the messaging app to send both of my parents a video. I didn’t know when they’d be able to see them, but I didn’t know what else to do.

What was I even going to say? The hoods from the school broke down the front door wearing masks and took Skylar? I was better off telling them I had lost her. At least that was more believable. Everyone knew the black cloaks existed, but if you didn’t interact with them, they didn’t interact with you. Until now.

I decided that telling them the truth was my best option, at least the front door was broken to prove it. I flipped the black card in my hand over as I hovered over the record button. To my surprise, it wasn’t blank. The front of the card, with the date and address, was too perfect to be handwritten, instead printed by a machine. This, however, was scribbled onto the card.

Secrecy is a shield. Don’t break hers, or else.

The house was eerily quiet as my brain worked. A shield? Don’t break hers? Maybe she was safe as long as I didn’t tell anyone?

How am I supposed to not tell anyone? My sister got kidnapped, and I’m supposed to keep that a secret? That’s what they want. I could go to my parents, the police, Mr. Daniels, anyone who would listen. I could find someone who would listen, know what to-

Stop, I cut myself off. What do you think ‘or else’ means? The card says keeping this a secret is protecting her. Who knows what they’ll do to her otherwise. You can’t tell anyone.

I looked at the holotab again. 11:41. Nineteen minutes. I set the tablet on its charger, locking it.

I can’t tell anyone. I just have to go. Do I go tonight? No, not at night.

I felt sick, but there were a multitude of factors that could’ve been contributing to that. I left the kitchen and went to my room, lying down for all of thirty seconds before I got up again. I knew I wasn’t going to sleep; I was too antsy even to lie down at this point.

I paced, scared for my sister, scared I couldn’t tell anyone, and beyond terrified of what was going to happen tomorrow.

———

By the time my pacing had moved me to the kitchen, the sun was beginning to shine through the windows. I’d watched the clock all night, waiting for it to reach six thirty a.m., when I would get up for school.

I’d decided that I’d wait to go to the address on the card until it was sunny out. I started moving as if I were getting ready for school. Something about the routine of my normal morning kept my nerves at bay.

I put on a pair of dark jeans with a white shirt, covering it with my favorite jacket. It was a faded denim color with buttons on the front, though I never used them. A navy hood had been sewn onto the jacket by my mom, making it my favorite part.

After dressing, the bathroom was next. I brushed my teeth and looked at myself in the mirror.

Oof.

My brown eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, getting no help from the messy hair on top of my head. I brushed it with my fingers, trying to put some of the natural waves back into it, with minimal luck.

I was sure none of what I was doing mattered, but it kept me from going insane. After grabbing my school bag, I headed back to the kitchen to prepare to leave.

Before I did, I got on the holotab one last time. I signed in, then clicked on an app that was on every holotab in the Char. The app was called Civilink, which allowed the president of Emberfall, Simon Mitchell, and the rest of its government to monitor its citizens. School taught us that each city had its own president, working together as the makeshift government for the entire country until something official could be established. It’d been twenty-six years now, so we all assumed President Mitchell was all we were going to get. He was nice enough whenever he appeared on our television, but he was probably faking it.

Thanks to my dad’s job, our app had an additional map feature, which is what I was going to be taking advantage of now. I inputted the address on the card. The map zoomed in, showing an industrial-looking building almost twenty minutes away from the house. I planned a route to take me there, then deleted the search and turned off the tablet.

The front door was still ajar from the evening before. The latch had been broken, and the wind had kept pushing it back open whenever I tried to close it. This morning, the wind had died down, and I closed it the best I could, though it would need to be fixed.

Other kids from the neighborhood were making their way to school. I fell in line with them, keeping to myself as I worried more about the cloaked people than what Mr. Daniels was going to be teaching today.

I slowed at a crossroads. Turning left would follow the others and take me to the school. I stopped and looked around, then went right.

After fifteen minutes, I was in a part of town I rarely went to. The area was mostly businesses; the houses thinning out and giving way to larger buildings. Few people walked the streets, most in work gear or uniforms.

The black card I’d been given weighed no more than a pen, but in my pocket now, it felt like way more than that. It seemed to increase as I turned down a gravel road with the same name.

Pretty aptly named.

A few buildings down, a green warehouse sat in the morning sun, rusty enough that the light hardly reflected off it. It didn’t look like it’d been used since before the war. The number 301 was placed in the center of the building, near the top.

An overhead garage door was propped open a few feet. I got shivers as I stood in front of the location on the card, unsure if it was the cold or my nervous system.

I stalled as long as I could, looking around multiple times to see if anyone was watching me. But I saw no one, and after a minute, I walked to the garage door.

You’re doing this for Skylar, I reminded myself as I lowered to go under.

When I was flat on my stomach, I took one more breath and crawled under the door, climbing to my feet quickly once I’d made it through.

Light shone in through thin and cracked areas of the roof, though most of the warehouse remained dark. I brushed the dust off me, trying to make sense of what I could see. Scrap metal was sorted on top of toolboxes and work benches, taking up most of the concrete floor space.

What I didn’t see were black-hooded figures, which relaxed me just a little. But only a little, as the silence of the warehouse set in.

“Hello?” I called out, getting no response.

“I have a card.”

I dug into my pocket, holding the card up. “You made sure of it,” I muttered.

Again, I was met with no answer. I shifted on my feet, feeling like I was being watched. My heart beat harder as I took a few steps deeper.

I was about to turn around and sprint out of the building when something flicked out of the darkness, rattling to a stop on the ground next to my shoe. I picked up the second black card, reading the date and address on it. They both matched mine.

Just as I flipped the card over to read the back, I sensed blurs of movement on both sides of me. Light flooded the inside of the building as the garage door was flung open behind me. Before I knew it, men with white masks had ahold of both of my arms, turning me around to face the bright outdoors. At least, it would’ve been, had a black-cloaked figure not been waiting there. Unlike last night, this one had no glowing eyes.

“Where is my sister?” I yelled, trying to break free. The cloak said nothing, walking toward me with a cloth bag in its hands. “Let go of me!”

The figure ignored me again, and the light disappeared as the bag was placed over my head. I was forced forward, stumbling as the men on either side walked quickly. The sound of an engine registered in my ears, then the squeaking of tires as a vehicle came to a stop. A door slid open, and I realized I was going to be put into a van.

I tried to plant my feet, but it was useless. They dragged me toward the running car, then was lifted and more or less thrown into a seat. A big body sat on either side of me, feeling their thighs press against mine.

“Tell Regent we have the stray,” someone in the back with me said.

The stray?

The van lurched forward before slamming to a stop again. My body was nearly thrown to the floor, only prevented by muscular hands grabbing my arms. I wanted to tell them I could keep my balance better if I didn’t have a bag over my head, but the sliding door opened again and one of them stepped out.

I heard the high-pitched zing of a flexorpulse rifle fire, followed by the muffled sound of groans and straining as someone else was forced into the van.

The vehicle started forward again, pulling away from the warehouse and turning onto the road. Nobody spoke as I silently hoped I hadn’t been seen by my family for the last time. I kept breathing my own recycled air in the bag, glad I had brushed my teeth this morning.

———

After a lengthy drive with multiple turns, I was completely lost. The bag on my head was getting hot and stuffy, but every time I tried to wipe my face, my arms were swatted down. After I felt the vibrating barrel of a flexor against my ribcage, I stopped trying.

The van came to a rest for good sometime later. The door was slid open, and I was led out, noticeably less forcefully than I’d been led in. The air changed as we entered a building and walked forward across what felt like a lobby. After a pause, the floor started dropping, and I could tell it was an elevator.

It dinged, and the doors opened. This area was much colder, with lights that were bright enough to see through the bag. It didn’t help, as now I only saw the fabric that made up the bag, but I took this as a good sign. My shoes squeaked on the polished floor, muffled by the thumps of the boots worn by those around me.

A door opened, and I was led into an even colder room. Something scooted on the floor, and I was sat in a chair. People shuffled out of the room, leaving me alone.

Briefly. The door reopened, followed by a commotion as more people entered. Nobody talked until a single voice sounded above the rest.

“Macy!”

The bag was removed as Skylar wrapped me tight in a hug. I hugged her back, standing, watching the others in the room, all wearing black cloaks, exit.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, taking in the rest of my surroundings. A second chair was in the room, on the other side of a metal table. There was glass behind it, but it was opaque, and I couldn’t see through it. Other than that, the room was empty.

Skylar nodded, then asked, “Where are we?”

“I don’t know. Where did they take you last night?”

Tears started forming in her eyes, one escaping down her cheek. “It was all so blurry, I don’t remember. I’ve been stuck in a room all night.”

She hugged me tighter, pressing her face into my shoulder. Skylar wasn’t the emotional type, often taking after me and my mom with sarcasm. Which meant it didn’t happen often, but I hated seeing her cry. My parents had told me that growing up, every time she would cry, I would too. I like to think they exaggerate. But in this little room, I was nowhere close to tears, refusing to show emotion to whoever these people were.

“It’s okay,” I said, brushing her hair with my fingers to calm her down; I’d seen my mom do it before. “We’ll figure out how to go home.”

The door to the room opened. Two men with white masks carried flex rifles, followed by a cloak. They came right after Skylar, ripping her away from me. I stood as she called out my name, moving toward her. One man turned, the barrel on his flex rifle glowing bright blue, the hum meaning it was dangerously close to firing a pulse of energy into my chest.

“Sit down!” the man yelled.

“I’ll find a way to get us out of here,” I called to Skylar, following the man’s orders. They all left, leaving me alone in the room.

A minute later, the door opened again as three more men came in. Two of them wore the white masks I was quickly growing to hate, dragging a third, maskless man between them. I realized I recognized the bloodshot eyes.

“Dad?”

He was sat across from me. He watched as the men left, then turned to me once the door latched.

“Mason, are you okay?”

I stared at him, not sure if he was real or still a result of what was in that syringe last night. “What are you doing here?”

“You took a card?”

“No! Well, yes. But not by choice. They took Skylar.”

“What?”

I recalled the events of last night, and how I’d woken up with the card on my chest, waiting until this morning to go to the address. He listened intently, cussing under his breath the further I got.

“How did you get here?” I asked again.

“I was finally off work and was coming home and saw you without your sister. I was going to let it go, but then you turned away from the school. I was worried about what you were up to. I followed, then saw you crawl under that garage door. When the van pulled up, I realized too late what was happening. I tried to stop them, but they hit me with one of those flex rifles. My legs still hurt.”

“Do you know where we are?” I asked.

He shook his head. I had too many questions. I doubted he had the answers, but I asked anyway. “It was those people in cloaks who brought us here. Do you know who they are?”

He shook his head again. “I have a feeling we’re going to find out. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I just want to rescue Skylar.”

He gave me a reassuring smile. “We will.”

The door opened again. The two men entered, grabbing my dad by the arms and forcing him to stand. He resisted a little, making the soldiers drag him as he called back, “Do what they say for now, but don’t give up.”

The door shut, and I was alone again in the cold room. Well, not completely alone, I should say. I had my thoughts to keep me company, which wasn’t a good thing.

And it was just me, myself, and I for an hour. I became agitated, pacing the room to keep my muscles from shivering. After I’d walked the perimeter of the room ten times, I plopped down in the chair, wrapping myself in my jacket.

Finally, a woman entered the room. She carried a holotab under her arm, which was covered by a dark-colored jacket, similar to her forest green cargo pants. On her shoulder was a sewn-on patch identical to the soldier’s uniforms, FATE in white lettering.

“Where do you think you are?” she asked.

“How would I know that?” I asked. “Somewhere underground, based on the elevator,” I added.

“Good deduction.”

“Where’s my sister now?” I sat up in my chair, putting my hands on the table, which was freezing. The woman sat in the chair across the table, tapping on the holotab. The light from it shone onto her face, her ebony skin gleaming in the light.

“She’s fine, as you saw. My name is Chromia.”

“Is that your real name?” I asked. Everything about these people was a mystery, and she was the first one to show me her face. Forgive me for being a little suspicious.

She sighed, staring at me. “That would not be helpful to you; however, I will be.”

“How?”

She ignored my question. “You’re going to need all the help you can get out there.”

“You don’t know me,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest and leaning back in my chair.

Chromia tapped on the tablet in front of her a couple of times until a picture of me walking with my schoolbag appeared. She picked up the tablet and started reading.

“Your name is Mason Trystan Lake. Trystan is spelled with a ‘Y,’ not an ‘I.’ You’re sixteen, male, with light brown eyes and hair. You live with your sister, Skylar, your father, Donovan, and your mother, Kiri, who is the daughter of prewar Japanese immigrants, giving you just enough Japanese ancestry to claim so, but your sister got more of your mom’s genes than you did. You’re a student at Emberfall Institution, though not a great one.”

Gee, thanks.

“Considerably average in all classes except for any math class, where you’re below almost every other student, and a class called Climate Adaptation and Hazard Endurance, where you’re notably top of your class.”

Hey, that’s pretty good.

“You spend your free time with your little sister due to a lack of any true friends-“

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted. “I get it; you know a lot.”

She set the tablet down. “Tell me, Mason. As someone who struggles with most classes, you excel in a class related to surviving and living in the storms outside the city. That seems odd, no?”

It was the only class I found enjoyable, and I told her so.

She just shrugged. “It makes you a prime candidate. Someone up high took notice, which is why our watchers called you by name.”

Their watchers? They called me by name?

The cloaked people are their watchers.

“Candidate? For what?”

“To be an extractor.”

“A what?”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “Have you ever heard of the Blitz?”

Before I could give a sarcastic answer, she said, “Of course you have. What you don’t know is that it’s full of valuables still there from before the city was walled off.”

“So?” I asked, unaware of how that was any concern of mine.

“We want that stuff,” she said matter-of-factly. “Extractors go into the Blitz and bring it back.”

“And you think I would agree to do that?”

“You already have. You took the card and went to the address.”

“You took my sister. I had no choice.”

Chromia looked disinterested in arguing. “Of course you did. You could’ve thrown the card away.”

“You knew I wouldn’t.”

I was doing my best to contain my emotions, but I was livid. These people took my sister and were now pretending I’d willingly come here.

Chromia didn’t seem to care. After a couple of swipes on her holotab, she pulled what looked like some sort of bank account. I’d seen one on our family’s tablet, though this one was clearly different.

“There are two reasons people choose to be an extractor,” she said. “Two types, I should say.”

“I didn’t choose.” I knew she didn’t care, but I wanted it to be well known.

“The first is to make money for themselves. We call these capital extractors. They bring valuables back to trade for gold or other items. The other type, which I believe you will be, are quota extractors. They trade a majority of what they find and contribute it toward a fund, goal, tab, or whatever you want to call it. Yours would be for your sister.”

“You’re saying I have to buy back my sister?”

“Not at all. It’s a rescue fund. But it’s your choice if you rescue her or not,” she said, her eyes not leaving the tablet, swiping through accounts with varying amounts in them.

I glared at her across the table. When she didn’t move for ten seconds, I broke first.

“What am I even looking for out there?”

“Jewelry, electronics, metals. Anything you think you can trade and find value for here in the city.”

I’m not proud, nor am I sure why, of what I said next. I didn’t even believe it myself. “I’m going to the government and telling them about you guys.”

The good news? I got her to put the tablet down and acknowledge me. The bad news? She did so that she could laugh in my face.

“And tell them what? Most of President Mitchell’s people already work for us, anyway. You will do what we say, or you will stay here until we decide you can leave. If ever,” she added.

“Who are you guys?”

“Humanity’s only hope. We are the Free Architects of the Terminal Epoch.”

“The…what?”

She repeated the name.

“Were all the simpler names taken?”

“You may never take anything seriously in your life, but we do,” she said, a fire in her eyes. “You go to any of the nine untouchables — New York, Houston, Seattle — it doesn’t matter, we have roots everywhere. We’re inevitable, we’re FATE, and we will rebuild humanity.”

By kidnapping kids? And why are you using the prewar city names?

I forced myself to hold back another comment.

“Right. What do I have to do to get my sister back?”

“Extract enough to pay off your tab and get your sister back. Do you accept?”

I didn’t know what else to do. The thought of leaving the city and entering the Blitz wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was a wasteland, so how bad could it be? Stuff had to be littered everywhere.

“How many quota extractors reach their goal?” I asked.

Chromia began tapping on the holotab, sorting through layers of menus. Finally, she gave me a number, drumming her fingers on the table. “Twenty-seven percent.”

“Why so few?”

“Various reasons, but they usually die.”

That’s encouraging.

“Isn’t it a bunch of nothing? What do they die from?”

“The storms, other extractors, other hostile life forms.”

Great. Fighting against mutant animals in the rain was just what I was hoping for.

“That’s the only way I can get my sister back?”

She said nothing.

“This isn’t fair,” I whined. “You kidnapped my sister. Why do I have to go into the Blitz to look for random things to buy her back?”

“We could just send her out there.”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Do you accept?”

“Who are you guys?” I asked again.

“Do you accept?”

I sighed loudly. “Yes.”

“Follow me.”