Shades of Earth by Beth Revis Page A

flat against the metal, her hands gripping the raised rivets along the side. Her head is slammed against the wall, and a trickle of blood leaks over her left arm—I recognize her. This is Lorin, one of the women I stitched when the ship first landed. She’s thrown herself so violently against the unforgiving surface of the shuttle that some of her stitches broke.
    â€œLorin,” I say in as calm a voice as I can muster while the alarm blares. “We need to go.”
    She shakes her head, eyes wide, mouth forming soundless words.
    â€œWe
have
to,” I say. I glance at the others backed against the wall. They’ve never lived without walls—but I can’t let them die behind them, either.
    â€œEnough of this,” Emma growls, knocking me aside as she grabs Lorin’s wrist and starts to forcibly drag her from the room.
    Lorin screams, pulling against Emma with all her body weight. She stumbles, and Emma drags her on her knees for a few steps before Lorin is able to wriggle free and run all the way to the other side of the shuttle, back against the wall as she shakes her head
no, no, no
.
    â€œSeven minutes,” the computer interrupts.
    â€œYou guys get to the armory,” I say. “We need all the weapons we can carry. Kit and I can take care of the remaining people.”
    Emma looks as if she’s about to protest, but she throws her hands up in resignation and leads the remaining military personnel to the armory.
    â€œHow—?” Kit starts, but I cut her off.
    â€œWhere are the green patches?” I scream, my voice already hoarse from trying to speak over the alarm.
    â€œWhat?” Kit shouts back.
    â€œPhydus!”
    Kit scrambles for her med bag, yanking out handfuls of green patches. Willing or not, I smack a patch on each of the remaining people who refuse to leave the shuttle. Better to give them a small dose of the hateful drug than leave them here to die. They shuffle toward the door—not fast enough, and I scream at them to hurry.
    I reach Lorin last—she keeps trying to dodge out of my reach, but as the alarm announces the last minute, I tackle her and slap a patch on her hand. Her eyes glaze over. I yank her up, dragging her behind me as I race to the door.
    â€œThirty seconds to lockdown,” the computer says cheerfully. “Twenty-nine . . . twenty-eight . . . ”
    I run to the door, more desperate than I’d ever been in any race or sprint in high school, pulling Lorin’s limp form along. I will
not
be trapped inside this godforsaken shuttle.
    Elder stands in the door to the bridge. “Hurry!” he shouts.
    The computer continues counting down. “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . ”
    I shove Lorin ahead of me through the door—she falls, but she’s made it to the other side.
    â€œÂ . . . four . . . three . . . ”
    I dive through.
    The door seals shut behind me.
    The alarm stops, but my ears are still ringing with the sound of it. “You okay?” Elder asks, dragging me to my feet. Kit, panting, helps Lorin stand.
    â€œYeah,” I say, rubbing my elbow. I must have slammed it against the metal floor.
    â€œHow long is this damn door going to be sealed?” Dad asks, glaring at it as if it’s a personal affront.
    â€œI told you,” Elder says just as angrily, “I don’t know.”
    Dad glowers. He’s not happy about this at all, but there’s nothing he can do. My eyes dart between the two of them. It’s not fair of Dad to blame Elder . . . but at the same time, I wish Elder knew a
little
more about how to reverse the lockdown.
    Dad sends Emma to gather up the military, then asks Elder to group his people together. Kit follows Elder down the ramp, leading Lorin by the hand.
    Dad drops a hand on my shoulder, holding me back. “Don’t do that again,” he