Chapter One

Durga

This hole in the fence has been here for years, but it’s only lately I’ve begun sneaking out of the Integration Zone.

Though I was born elsewhere, Earth is the only home I’ve ever known. I was two when a hole ripped through the sky on An’Wa. I can’t remember it, but I’ve heard the story so many times that the pictures in my mind are so vivid it’s hard to believe the memories aren’t my own.

Although it’s been twenty-five years, my people still talk about it as though it happened yesterday. Many species, many clans met at the twice-yearly Gathering. There was music, trading, eating, and drinking.

On the second night of the festivities, the skies opened up, lightning continuously lit the sky, and thunder rolled for long minutes.

A black hole appeared in the sky and silver threads, strong as steel, reached through the hole, wrapped around random people, and sucked them through to Earth.

Five thousand of us landed in the Mojave Desert, including my mother and me. They called us Others and placed us here in the Integration Zone, a fenced area on the outskirts of Los Angeles. We languished for years until recently, when they finally allowed us outside the gates.

Allowedis one thing. Welcomed is quite another. I’m taking my life in my hands by sneaking through this hidden gap in the fence.

On An’Wa we were warriors when necessary, nomadic in our very essence. At least the orc clans were. Perhaps the need to roam is in my blood. Or maybe it’s that my entire life has been restricted to ten square city blocks. Now that the government allows u, it’s against my nature to stay confined.

I unroll the barbed wire from where it’s made to look like a seamless part of the fence. After crawling out, I roll it back. Although I’m only inches away from the Zone, I feel different already. At least it’s a taste of freedom. Somehow, it’s easier to smell autumn in the air out here.

It’s easy to know where to go. I follow my nose to the water. We’re far from the ocean. Ghettos aren’t in places with prime views. There’s a run-down park I discovered nearby. It has trees and a small lake. There’s a children’s playground there.

Some do-gooders donated play equipment to the Zone when I was still young enough to enjoy it, but twirling on a little metal roundy-round inside a fenced prison probably feels far different from how humans feel twirling while breathing free.

I avoid the illuminated puddles cast by the streetlights, making my way in looping patterns to stay on the darkened parts of the street. I’m a head taller than most human men and far bulkier. It’s not easy to be stealthy because of my size, but my genetics help me walk silently.

I’ve seen pictures drawn by elders who remember An’Wa, but I can’t picture the forests as clearly as I’d like. Still, I imagine my father and members of my clan stalking game, hunting with bows and arrows, breathing air that was somehow fresher than here, and enjoying the brilliance provided by two suns.

The scent of water is closer, pulling me off the street, through autumn-colored, golden-leafed trees, and into the park. It’s a small place, pitiful compared to what I see on TV, but it feeds my soul somehow.

Shit! I was so deep in my thoughts, so entranced by the smell of fresh water, that I didn’t catch her scent on the air.

It’s two in the fucking morning. What is a little girl doing out at this time of night?

She’s on a swing, one leg tucked under her and one on the ground. Her hands clutch the metal chains as she stares off into space. She smells worried. Has she run away from home? Been kicked out by abusive parents?

I’m at the edge of the trees, a step away from the open playground. Just as I’m about to retreat into the shadows, she sees me. I know she couldn’t have heard me. I didn’t snap a twig or crush a dried leaf.

For whatever reason, her gaze arrowed to me. The only humans I’ve been around are the teachers and authorities who come to the Zone for work. I’ve never been around a child before.

Look at her eyes—wide and terrified. Her mouth is an open O. I put my hands up, palms out, the wordless statement that I mean no harm. As I back up, ready to turn and hurry back to the Zone, I hear her softly spoken words, “Don’t go.”