The Pearl Wars by Nick James Page B

But as I stumble to my feet, I realize that I’m not in the training room at all. I’m not even in a Skyship.
    My chest throbs. Whether it’s from the detonator or something else I can’t tell. I’m not sure I’m awake—or conscious.
    A broken city stretches around me. Charred skeletons of skyscrapers disappear into the mist. Empty streets give way to derelict buildings, their windows blown out. Piles of brick litter the ground. There are no people, no cars even. Only the thick, green mist.
    I quickly realize that I’m on the Surface, but it’s not the same as Syracuse. There’s a coarseness to the air. Each passing breeze grates on my skin. The temperature’s mild. Cold, even.
    I stand alone, as if a giant hand wiped everything away around me. I stagger forward, dizzy. The mist fogs out every detail except for jagged shadows of the buildings. I give into panic for a moment, unsure of how to find my way out.
    Then I hear a noise to the right of me, coming from a nearby alleyway. Whispering. Voices.
    Eager to find help, I follow it. Even if this is just a dream, I know I don’t want to be here. My fingers cut through the mist and I stumble forward to see who’s there, but the persistent fo g bars my way.
    The voices fade. I stop in the middle of the intersection and look down at my chest. A silver key rests on my white shirt.
    And then, a shadow.
    Something behind me. Someone.
    I start to cough as the mist pours down my throat. My legs feel numb, as if they haven’t been used in years. My head drops. Dead weight. Then the world becomes a blur and all I can see is green.
    ––––
    I wake with a start, lying in a pile of sand in the middle of the training field. My body feels like it’s just been stuck in an electric socket, but it’s my chest that’s the worst. A carefully aimed detonator will do that.
    Mr. Wilson kneels at my side. I must’ve been out long enough for him to come down from the balcony. “Jeez, Fisher.” He shakes his head. “It was only a detonator. You’ve gotta toughen up a little.”
    Skandar and Eva stand off to the side, staring down at me. The Year Sevens are nowhere to be seen, thank god. Suddenly, the humiliation of the whole situation dawns on me and I bury my face in my hands and fight back tears, which makes the whole thing even more embarrassing. If this had been a real combat mission, I’d probably have been left for dead.
    Mr. Wilson pats my shoulder, the first sympathetic move he’s made today, and turns to the others. “I want you all in homeroom for debriefing in twenty minutes.” He strolls off, leaving the firing squad to assess their fallen comrade.
    “Great job, mate.” Skandar barely contains his chuckle.
    Paulina Sterner pushes him. “He lasted longer than you, didn’t he?”
    Skandar grunts. “Dumb luck, that’s all.”
    I fold into a fetal position.
    Eva crosses her arms. “I gotta hand it to you, Fisher. Even though you missed Chan completely, which is pretty pathetic considering the amount of detonators you threw at him, at least you showed some fighting spirit.”
    Skandar reaches down to help me up but I push him away. I just wanna lie here. That way I can pretend this never happened. The fact that it feels like a truck’s just been driven into my chest doesn’t really give me the opportunity.
    “Whatever.” Skandar withdraws his hand. “I’m gonna go hit the showers.” He waves goodbye. Paulina and Manjeet leave too, now that the spectacle’s over.
    Eva lingers. “You just gonna lie there?”
    “Go away,” I mutter into the sand. It’s better to give up, chalk it up to fate. Even when I try not to make a fool of myself, the universe still finds some way to kick me in the butt. Other kids would have family to comfort them, to go on and on about how mass special they were. I’ve got Eva, standing over me like a disappointed bodyguard.
    “You know, you can’t keep doing this, acting like a baby when things don’t go your way.” She