- Herman Melville, Moby Dick I’M HANDING CADE A PACK of dried potato slices when terror rips through me. It’s like a thousand jagged shards of glass driving deep into my brain. My hand crushes the pack, blasting Cade in the face with a cloud of pulverized spuds. I ignore his cry of surprise, the questions he calls after me, the shouts from the other members of the Junior Resistance. Without hesitation, I sprint away from them toward the source of my agony. Iris. Something’s wrong. She is in trouble, and I’m out here delivering groceries to a bunch of fucking idiots. Her terror spikes and I hear her voice in my head. SIC! I NEED YOU! Adrenaline courses through my veins and I abandon all attempts at stealth. My heart is pounding in my chest by the time the compound’s concrete wall comes into view. Normally, I’d wait for a gap in the patrols, scale the wall quietly, and slip like a ghost to the other side. There isn’t time to sneak in. She needs me. Leaping up, I catch a handhold halfway up and rapidly scale the wall.
