1

SHELTERED

Neither the rain lashing the trees nor the wind howling through the forest could drown out the baby's cries. If the crying was coming from behind, Jason would have assumed the baby was with a family on the way to their destination like everyone else. But it came from the side, beyond thickets of bushes, at the base of a cliff—which drew him to a halt.

Rowan stopped next to him, clutching his sides as he struggled for a moment's breath. Grace stopped behind, pale skin gleaming with sweat, and placed a hand on Rowan's back. Her other hand was holding onto the hand of their boy, Conrad—his long hair was matted to his face from the rain.

'We...need to...keep going,' Rowan uttered between shallow breaths, gesturing at people jogging past them with arms full of bags and suitcases. The rain's relentless drumming muffled his voice. He clasped Grace's hand as he straightened. 'It's okay. We're not fair away.' He glanced up at Jason. 'What are you do—?'

Jason raised a hand for silence, eyes fixed beyond Rowan's flushed face. 'Can you hear that?'

'Lightbirds?' Rowan gasped, energy recharged in an instant. He spun in panic, scanning the treetops surrounding them.

Jason shook his head. 'It's still raining, pillock.'

'Dad's a pillock!' Conrad chuckled.

'Conrad!' Grace tugged on the boy's arm.

Grace's pinched expression stood out, eyes narrowing at her son, but Jason fought a smirk. He exchanged glances with Conrad, and the boy's mouth spread into a wide gap-toothed smile—that infectious smile he would wear when up to mischief. It had been a while since Jason saw that smile, what with the world falling apart. 

Jason coughed to stifle a laugh, then pointed behind Rowan, face straight again. Stepping forward, he noticed the sound came from a cave mouth burrowed beneath the cliff towering over them.

He turned to the others. 'A baby. In there.'

'Probably hiding with its family,' Rowan said quickly. 'They'll be fine. Come on—'

'They'll miss the vessels and the Lightbirds will get them. They might be in trouble. I'll see what's going on.'

'You'll miss the vessels yourself,' Grace warned, keeping a hold of Conrad. She brushed the curly locks of her dark hair away from her eyes, but the rain quickly plastered them back across her face. 'They won't come back for you. Then what?'

'She's right.' Rowan stepped closer. 'We need to go.'

'I'm not asking you to come with me. Get to the beach. I'll catch up.' Jason backed away.

'Jay...'

Jason saw the plea in his brother's eyes, heard the desperation in his voice. But Rowan knew too well that when Jason had an idea, there was no talking him out of it. Jason shook his head to emphasise his decision.

Rowan took in a breath to speak but Grace cut him off with a raised finger. 'No. Your idiotic brother can do as he pleases, but you're not as daft as him.'

'She's not wrong,' Jason said with a wink. Grace scowled.

Rowan kept his eyes on her. 'You and Conrad go ahead. Get to the beach. We'll be there shortly.' The nervousness in his voice betrayed his stern expression.

Grace glanced between the cave and the distant horizon where the vessels waited at the cave. She slipped her free arm around Rowan, pressed her hand on the back of his soaking head and brought their foreheads together. They whispered to each other, saying whatever couples would say in a situation like this. Rowan probably told her he loved her. Grace probably told him he was a fool.

Conrad grimaced at his parents' embrace, awkwardly trying to pry his hand from Grace's.

Jason chuckled. 'You going to look after your mum, Conman?'

'As long as you promise to look after Dad.'

Rowan broke from the embrace and crouched down to his son. 'Protect her, you hear?' He pulled Conrad into a hug, which the boy quickly wriggled out of.

Blue streaks in the sky threatened to clear the dark clouds and the pouring rain. Jason headed towards the cave. 'The clouds won't hold for much longer.'

'Wait!' Conrad called out. Jason spun around to see the boy dropping his backpack on the muddy ground and rummaging through it. 'You and Dad will need help saving the baby.'

Rowan shook his head frantically. 'No time.'

'Hold on.' With a sense of calm about him, Conrad took out some items: a pack of playing cards, a rolled-up poster, a box of firecrackers—at which Grace gave Rowan a horrified look—before finally producing a plastic torch. He pressed it into Rowan's hands, closed his eyes and blew out a heavy breath. 'I've just put some of my soul in this. So when you turn it on, I'll be the light to show you where to go. You won't get lost that way.'

Rowan managed a tight smile as Conrad stuffed the soggy things into his backpack—at which Grace gave Rowan another horrified look—zipped it shut and slung it over his shoulders. 'Come on, Mum. We'll freeze our arses off out here.'

Rowan chuckled weakly, patting the torch. 'This will be my lifesaver.'

Grace furrowed her brow. 'Be quick. If you hear the rain easing off, get out of there, even if you haven't found the baby.' She turned to Jason. Look after your brother. It's the one thing you're good at.'

Jason nodded. Grace and Conrad took off through the forest, their full backpacks rattling as they ran.

'Let's get this over with,' Rowan muttered.

Jason clapped Rowan on the back. He glimpsed Conrad's name scrawled in marker across the white plastic torch. 'Didn't think your boy was the sentimental type.'

Rowan didn't have time to respond; Jason was already jogging towards the cave.

'Wrong way, lads!' someone called as a group ran past, laughing on their way to the beach.

'Bloody idiots,' Jason muttered.

'Them or us?' Rowan stared after them. 'They're right. This is the wrong way.'

'You know you're their hero.' Jason's boots sank into the slush by the cave's mouth. 'Grace and Conrad. Especially Con.'

Rowan grunted, although Jason couldn't tell if this was an acknowledgement of what he said or because he was also struggling with the slush. They both lifted their boots quickly, trying to skim across the mud and reach the cave.

'So you could at least try to act like a hero,' Jason continued. 'This is the day when we all need to be strong.'

'Strong like you?'

Jason shook his head in frustration. There was never a right time to talk to Rowan about his attitude. Even though Rowan had ten years' experience of being a father, he still behaved like a child, unable to take responsibility for things. Despite Jason being three years younger than him, he always felt as if he was the older brother. It was never a wonder why Rowan was married to someone like Grace. Someone strong and wise, able to show him the right way to live.

Why she was married to him, though, was a mystery.

Not for the first time, Jason thought Conrad saw him as more of a father than Rowan was. Conrad was certainly more like him than Rowan. More confident. More proactive. More of a fighter.

Jason waded through the mud. 'You could at least stop shrivelling up like a chilly cock when things get tough and actually do something.'

'Look at the world!' Rowan raised his hands desperately, drenched in the rain. 'What's left of it, anyway. I'm trying to look after my family through this...this...madness we're going through, and you want to pay hero for someone you don't...' Rowan trailed off at the sight of his brother pressing his finger against his lips.

'Hear anything?' Jason muttered.

Rowan's eyes darted around. 'Besides the rain? No...'

'Exactly.' Jason took a deep breath, taking in the heavy smell of wet bark and moss hanging in the air, and stared into the endless black of the cave's mouth. 'Something might have happened to the baby.' He instinctively ran his thumb over the knuckles of his gloved hand, which made Rowan look down at his own glove.

Jason stepped towards the mouth. 'If you want to stand guard here with your thoughts, go for it.' He didn't look back as he spoke. 'Just remember, too much thinking is never a good thing.'

As Jason trudged into the cave, he heard the squelches of his brother's footsteps approaching behind him.

He exhaled a hollow sigh of relief.

***

They were only a few steps inside of the cave and it already felt like a different world. The muddy splashes of the brothers' footsteps, along with the wind whistling through the rocky cavern masked the sounds of rain and voices outside.

Despite being sheltered, it felt colder in here than out in the pouring rain. Jason shivered, then signalled to Rowan to switch on Conrad's torch. All they could see were rocks—some jutting from the ceiling like giant fangs—wet mud and the odd worm wriggling the cracks.

Jason kept his gloved fist raised as they slogged through the cave. The baby still hadn't made a sound. The thought of turning back and getting the hell out crossed his mind, but he knew he'd never stop wondering if the baby was still here. Alone. In trouble.

But if a Lightbird was here as well, the baby would definitely be dead.

The beam from Rowan's torch shuddered, as if he sensed hat Jason was thinking. Jason turned and made out Rowan's frightened face, his body shaking. He placed a hand on Rowan's shoulder and, with a downward sweep of his other, signalled for him to slow his breathing.

'Talk to me,' Rowan whispered.

Jason sighed. It wasn't the first time Rowan had said something like this; he always counted on him to pick him up and make things better.

Jason glanced into the darkness, then back at his brother. 'You remember Nia?'

'Nia...Mason?' Rowan muttered. 'From school?'

'The same. Well, I've decided that—assuming she ends up in the same cocoon as us—I'm going to ask her to marry me.'

Rowan snorted. 'Of course she'll end up in the same cocoon as us. How big do you think this island is? There are multiple vessels to take us down, but only one cocoon. Anyway, when was the last time you even saw her?'

'Twenty years ago.'

Jason could make out the closest to a grin he had seen on Rowan's face in months.

'You went on...what...a couple of dates with her?'

'A few.'

'And you haven't seen her for twenty years but expect that she'll just take your hand in marriage?'

'Well, not just like that.' Jason beckoned with his head to continue walking through the cave. Rowan obliged, and Jason carried on talking quietly, his fist still raised. 'Maybe there'll be some nice bars down there. Decent places to eat. Places where I can charm her.'

'I can't imagine it'll be that glamorous in the cocoon,' Rowan muttered gloomily. 'And then what? You would actually propose?'

It was difficult for Rowan to comprehend. Before the Lightbird invasion, Jason was an events organiser, travelling to different countries regularly and therefore not having time for relationships. Not that he was keen on having one; he had a reputation for charming women on a night out and disappearing before dawn broke.

But lately—whether because of the invasion or because he'd been spending more time with Rowan and his family while preparing to evacuate over the past few months—Jason had been thinking more and more about settling down. Rowan had somehow ended up with a beautiful and intelligent woman. Grace was even the first one to make a move on Rowan, when they were both working at the same hospital—her as a physiotherapist and him as an accountant. If that could happen, surely Jason—someone more self-assured and obviously more handsome than his older brother—could have a family of his own?

Of course, during the middle of a worldwide emergency was probably not the best time to be doing so.

'Mum loved her.' Jason pored over memories. 'Took Dad a while to warm up to her fiery personality but he ended up liking her too.'

'I remember, but they'd probably tell you to set your standards lower, considering your reputation with women—if they were still here.' Rowan caught sight of Jason's frown. 'No offence, but put it this way: last I heard, she was the headteacher at Parkhill Secondary. One of the best schools on the island, right? She wouldn't go out with you. No doubt she's going to be super busy in the cocoon, and far too important to be associated—'

The shrill cry of the baby interrupted Rowan. He nearly dropped the torch in surprise.

'Still alive,' Jason said quietly, relieved not only from the cries resuming but also because they were now walking on solid rock instead of slipping on mud. But as each step they took now echoed through the cave, even he now felt a sense of dread. The baby's cries, whilst ear-achingly loud, were not strong enough to muffle their footfalls.

Jason took a breath and then called out into the darkness. 'Hello?'

'What are you doing?' Rowan hissed.

'Making ourselves known.' He called out again. 'Everything alright. You'll miss all the vessels if you stay here.'

No response apart from the continued cries of the baby.

As Jason approached a sharp bend in the cave, the torch shuddered again. Without even asking, he knew Rowan wouldn't want to go round that corner, so signalled for him to hand over the torch. Rowan complied straight away.

Jason edged round the bend slowly, torch in one hand and his gloved hand still balled. He slowed down his breathing.

The baby's cries eased off.

'Can you see it?' Rowan whispered from behind.

'I think—'

Something heavy charged into Jason's body. It sent him flying back into the bend; he slammed into the wall behind him and dropped the torch. It rolled further ahead towards where he had presumed the baby was.

'We have to go!' Rowan spun around but caught his foot on a rock and tumbled to the ground.

Jason hauled himself up against the wall. From the glint of the torch's light at the far end of the cave, he saw what had struck him.

A Lightbird, no less than seven feet tall, stood several paces away. Its solid white eyes glared at him.

Jason squeezed his gloved fist. A water marble launched out of the opening in between the glove's knuckles of the ring and middle fingers and soared towards the creature. The Lightbird swerved sideways, long hair whipping behind it, and the marble was consumed by the shadows beyond.

The creature took a step forward, its scaly, dark green skin illuminated by the torch on the ground. Large, thick wings jutted from its back—so wide their tips brushed against the cave walls as the Lightbird approached. It seemed to notice its wings were too big for the cave, turning its head towards one of them.

Taking the chance, Jason squeezed his fist again. The water marble flung towards the Lightbird's chest, but the creature looked back in Jason's direction and, in a fluid motion, pulled one of its hands down. A bright green blade was produced in the hand's trail and absorbed the marble.

The flat-edged blade, almost Jason's height, was connected to the Lightbird's fist, swirls of energy pulsing through the weapon as if it was a living thing. It emitted a ringing sound as the Lightbird waved it around in the surrounding space. The Lightbird's way of intimidating Jason.

He pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled towards Rowan, not taking his eyes off the Lightbird as it stepped towards them. It was the first time Jason had seen one up close. The blood vessels around its eyes glowed the same shade of green as its blade. It had sunken holes for ears. It took a steady breath through the slitted nostrils of its aquiline nose, positioned where its mouth should have been, filling the lower half of its face.

Rowan groaned, scrambling but his legs failing to push him upright. 'We need to get out of here. Now.'

With its long legs, the Lightbird could chase them easily. Jason knew they'd never make it to the exit of the cave before being cut down. Especially Rowan, who was slower and clumsier.

Jason made a decision.

Ignoring Rowan's protests, he charged and launched another marble at the Lightbird—this time at its head. It raised its blade and the marble dissolved. The Lightbird saw Jason was already aiming his glove at its chest and lowered its blade in anticipation, but Jason twisted his glove up to release a marble at its head. He thought he would catch the Lightbird out but it was as if it was reading his mind, raising its blade to intercept the marble.

Then it plunged its blade into Jason's stomach.

He never expected the blade to feel so cold, nor its dull edge to cut through him so easily.

The Lightbird pulled its blade out of Jason and stepped back, its chest puffed out in triumph.

It didn't expect Rowan to strike a marble at the back of its head.

Despite just a splash of water hitting the Lightbird, it was enough for it to stagger forward, clasping onto the back of its head with the four claws of its hand. When the Lightbirds invaded, the key message that was conveyed to the population was that water was fatal to them. Several companies manufactured gloves that would store water marbles in their sleeves to act as effective weapons. It was rare for a person to be seen without a glove nowadays.

The Lightbird stumbled back and collapsed to its knees, waving its blade frantically, cutting rocks as it thrashed into them. Freed from the blade, Jason collapsed too, crying out in anguish. He clasped his hand over his stomach, which did nothing to stop the dark blood from gushing out of him. Pain bloomed through his body, his stomach muscles pulling uncomfortably tight as if they were going to fold in on themselves. He gazed up and was face to face with the Lightbird, a chunk of its head missing. Its breaths were shallow, struggling for air. Crying and screaming filled his ears but he couldn't tell if it was coming from his brother or the baby. Or both of them.

Whatever he did, he was dead. Any contact with a Lightbird's blade is fatal, through impact or infection, the glove's accompanying leaflet had warned.

With effort, he wrenched his gloved hand up and squeezed three times.

The Lightbird's blade dissolved and the creature pitched backwards, clutching its melting chest where the marbles had hit.

Tears stung Jason's eyes as his impending death loomed in front of him. Moments ago, he still had his life. A life in a cocoon, but a life all the same. Now, the wound in his stomach was the painful mark of that life gone.

Jason barely felt his brother's arms around him. Rowan sobbed, calling Jason's name, but sounded distant as if he was beyond a wall that would never crack open.

Jason looked up, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He could hardly see the outline of his brother.

'The...baby...' Jason uttered. It hurt to talk.

'I'm getting you out of here,' Rowan said, his voice a million miles away.

'No.' Jason used the very little energy he had to squeeze Rowan's shoulder, coating him in blood. 'The baby. You...have to.'

Rowan looked round the corner where the torch had rolled to, where the sounds of the baby's cries were still coming from.

'All for a...fucking baby,' Rowan spat. He stood up, muttering to himself, and hurried towards the cries, keeping a suitable distance away from the Lightbird's corpse.

Jason was exhausted, the blood draining from his face. He used every morsel of his depleting energy to keep his eyes open, but could hardly see. The allure of sleep wrapped gently around him.

He thought he heard shuffling in the distance. Light flickered through his eyelids and he opened them with a struggle. Darkness still stood in front of him, and the baby's crying had stopped again.

He waited forever.

Then a figure ran up to him—Rowan, with the baby cradled in his arm. He crouched down and brought the baby close to Jason. It was naked, tiny and covered in filth.

But breathing.

'You're going to have to push yourself up.' Rowan put his free arm around Jason's back. 'Can you do that? I'll support you.'

'Leave me. Take...baby...to vessel. Before rain stops.'

'Not without you.'

'Ro...' Jason's vision wavered. He squeezed his eyes and opened them again, trying to focus on Rowan and feeling tears crawl down his cheeks. 'You know this is it.'

A silence hung over them, punctuated by a quiet sob from the baby.

'Not if I can help it,' Rowan replied, a surprising burst of confidence from him. He tightened his arm. 'Now push up.'

Jason's body was unresponsive but Rowan pulled him up, causing the baby to screech again. The weight of the backpack on his back threatened to pull Jason back down and, as soon as he was on his feet, he buckled, feeling as if more blood had poured out of him. Rowan kept a hold under his shoulder, supporting his weight.

With the baby in one of Rowan's arms and his younger brother in the other, they stumbled towards the cave's opening. But as they approached the daylight, Jason struggled to see. Arms of darkness crept into his vision. His mind sifted through memories and moments of the important people in his life.

He thought of his parents, long gone. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten the smaller details of their faces—his dad's pudgy nose, the mole on his mum's neck—yet now, close to the end, he saw them clearly. Perhaps they were waiting for him on the other side. At least they weren't alive to witness the end of the world. Neither of them would have been able to cope. Especially his dad, who Rowan took after both physically and through his personality.

He thought of Conrad and Grace, hopefully boarding a vessel by now. Conrad would keep his mum's spirits up. It would be a challenge for him to do the same for his dad, but Jason believed in him. He knew that even in the cocoon, Conrad had great things ahead of him.

He thought of Nia Mason and their first kiss—his first kiss—at the bus stop overlooking a lake all those years ago. He'd never forgotten her smile when their lips parted. Twenty years on, he wished he could see her now. The one girl who truly caught his heart.

He thought of Rowan, his older brother who was using all of his effort to try to save him when they both knew that Jason could not survive. He worried for Rowan. Wanted him to be strong. Wanted him to muster up of the courage his son already showed.

And then he thought of the baby, naked and starving in that cave with the Lightbird. The baby he gave his life for. As they exited the cave, it stopped crying. Jason turned to his side, taking his last breaths. The last thing he saw before those arms of darkness constricted his mind was the baby enchanted by the trees, the rain and the rush of people, as if it was the first time it had ever seen the world outside.

2

TRAPPED THOUGHTS

Marla could feel the thirty pairs of eyes locked onto her, burning through her skull. Their owners weren't listening to her reading word for word from Essential Mathematics for Essential Learning, the textbook lying open on her desk. Nor were they taking any notes for their exams coming up in three months, which would mark the end of their six years of studies.

Of course not. They're bloody moody sixteen-year-olds thinking about whatever bloody moody sixteen-year-olds think about, aching for the lesson to finish so they can do whatever bloody moody sixteen-year-olds do on weekends.

Not that there was much for young people to do in Cocoon Ninety-Nine. Marla had the same thoughts as them at their age, four long years ago, when she was studying from the same textbook in the same classroom. The steel walls—except the one behind Marla's desk, with a barely-used whiteboard and digital clock attached to it—had motivational posters plastered onto them to inspire the students, apparently. Lists of books to read. Lists of influential historical figures. Lists of various formulae. There was even a map of the world, which Marla found laughable considering the students—and her—had never seen the world, and never would.

Everything that the students needed to pass their exams was in the book but she knew they weren't paying attention. They wouldn't really care until the day of their exams, when they would try to cram in information that morning. She's done the same as a student, and somehow got decent results, so wouldn't question their methods. She really didn't care as long as she received meals for her and her dad for the day.

Marla's back had been aching since she woke up. All day it felt like her muscles were twisting and tightening, even when she sat still. She hated work on a normal day. Today was bordering on hellish.

Someone cleared her throat. Marla ignored her, reading on, until a voice called out.

'Miss Hightower?'

Leave me alone.

Marla knew who it was without looking up. She was the only person in her class who refused to use Marla's first name, no matter how many times Marla insisted. She reckoned she did it on purpose.

I'm four years older than you. Not four decades.

Marla pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed and raised her head. In the front row, an enthusiastic girl with curly hair and big eyes beaming through her glasses had her hand up.

'What, Ruth?'

Ruth lowered her hand and studied the book. 'It says here that x equates to five and y equates to two. I don't understand. Surely y would equate to three?'

Marla didn't like being asked questions, being interrogated. It required her to think, which she did enough of at home. Some people might like teaching. Marla wasn't one of them, no matter what the councillors had assigned to her after her exams.

'The book says two.' Reading from textbooks was Marla's preferred method of teaching.

'The book is wrong, Miss.'

Murmurs and giggles bubbled from the students.

Marla peered up. Ruth was staring at her, a finger pressed on a line in her textbook.

Give it a rest, Ruth. We know you'll probably be assigned to be a doctor or something. Good luck looking after the sick people here. There's plenty of them.

Unfortunately, with being stationed a mile underwater, the one thing that the cocoon didn't have access to was natural sunlight. Water and processed oxygen were in abundance, but the lack of sunlight was the primary cause of the average life expectance dropping since humans retreated to cocoons after the invasion twenty years ago.

Mum was one of the unfortunate ones. Because of those fucking Lightbirds, she couldn't even live a full life.

'Uh...' Marla scanned her textbook, eyes fluttering over the page. I really can't be bothered with this. 'The reason that doesn't work...the reason...it's because...the reason...'

She paused, an awkward stillness filling the room. Time felt as if it was dragging to its slowest pace. Her ears burned. Lips quivered. Muscles stiffened.

Not again.

She tried to say something...anything...but struggled to find the words and her throat dried up. She thought she had grown out of this. A problem left in her past, never to emerge again.

Remember what the doctor said. Take a breath and release the trapped thoughts.

'Don't worry,' a voice piped up, snapping Marla from her thoughts. She looked up to see a boy smirking at her. Darren. 'We're not asking you to explain quantum physics or parabolic calculus.'

The room filled with laughter, and Darren grinned triumphantly. Still flushed, Marla was relieved there was noise to break the tension. Her neck muscles loosened a little. She was even more relieved when the electronic buzz signalling the end of the lesson blared from the overhead speakers. The automatic door at the far end of the room swung open to reveal the corridor beyond it, where kids from other classes were already excitedly filing out of their lessons to welcome the weekend.

As Marla's students closed their books and put them in their bags, she was already out of her chair, swinging her bag of books over her shoulder and marching across the room. She never waited for them to leave first—especially not at the end of the week. Darren sneered at her as she passed but she forced herself to ignore him and the scattered sniggering.

'The equation?' Ruth called after her.

'I'm sure you'll work it out,' Marla shot back. She placed her hand on the panel on the wall by the exit, which registered that it was four o'clock and the school day was over. On a normal day at the end of a week, the text on the screen would display MISS M HIGHTOWER: MEALS FOR THE WEEKEND CONFIRMED. Food was the currency of every cocoon. If you didn't work, you didn't eat, and the powers above made sure of that with their logging system for every job in the cocoon.

Today, though, was different.

MISS M HIGHTOWER: MEALS FOR THE WEEKEND NOT CONFIRMED. PLEASE SEE COUNCILLOR MASON IMMEDIATELY.

Not this now. Seriously.

After a few seconds, the message disappeared. Marla pressed her hand on the panel again and it showed the same message. Behind her, students muttered and giggled as she tried again to no avail. 

Patience lost, she slammed her hand against the panel. The impact cracked the screen, a shard of glass cutting into her palm.

'Shit!' she snapped, jerking her hand away. Blood leaked as she stormed out of the room.

The giggling from the students erupted into a chorus of laughter.

***

The councillor's office was as large as Marla's classroom. It seemed as if it had grown in size since the last time Marla was in here, a couple of months ago. There were four large panels in the room—two fixed to each side wall—as well as one attached to the desk, all with lines of data running across them. After all, Nia wasn't just in charge of the school, but was also one of the seven councillors of the cocoon, as well as the Chair of the Council. She had been a councillor ever since the cocoon was populated by the island's inhabitants twenty years ago, which meant she was also partly responsible for selecting Marla's career. To this day, Marla couldn't understand why the Council had decided she should be a teacher.

A bookcase stretched across the back wall, crammed with tattered books. Hundreds of them were taken from the island during the invasion, or brought back by Goldgills on their weekly visits to the island to collect resources for the cocoon. Most of them were in poor condition, with faded text, broken spines and torn covers, but they lined up neatly next to each other, alphabetised.

Marka approached the vacant chair facing the Education Councillor's desk, the sounds of her feet tapping against the steel floor bouncing off the walls. She stood behind the chair, dabbing her cut hand with a tissue and wincing at the stinging.

Councillor Nia Mason looked up from her notes as she finished scribbling something down on a notepad. As always, she looked immaculate in her smart suit and neat bob haircut, as if she didn't live in a cocoon like the rest of the inhabitants, considering most of them wore whatever they could get—usually old, shabby clothing—and they cut their hair at home. Marla opted for keeping her hair cropped short, using her dad's electric razor to take off most of it. It required minimal effort. Not that Dad ever uses his razor anymore.

Eyes sunken and face tight, Nia looked as if she hadn't slept in years. She was a fierce worker, often arriving at the office very early and leaving late...apparently. She never married, never had children. Focused purely on work. The smoky aroma of coffee was present, and Marla glanced at the nearly empty cafetière on the corner of Nia's desk.

Considering the job she has, she must have more coffee circulating in her body than blood.

'Miss Hightower.' Nia's face was devoid of emotion. Marla cringed at the formality. 'Do sit.'

Marla hovered for a moment and Nia's tired eyes fixated on her. Not even the shouting and swearing of students as they rushed past the closed office could break the councillor's concentration.

Marla sat. Nia placed her pen next to her notepad, straightening it before clasping her hands together and leaning forward.

'What time does the school day start?' Nia asked.

Stupid question. Marla paused for a moment before replying. 'Eight.'

'What time should a teacher arrive at school?'

'Quarter to eight.'

'And what time did you arrive?'

Marla couldn't meet Nia's eyes. She shuffled in her seat, remembering how tired she'd been that morning and how she couldn't be bothered to go to work. Like most days.

'Eight thirty.'

Nia glanced down at the panel connected to the corner of her desk. She tapped it twice and a video popped up on the screen. Reliving the awkwardness of this morning, Marla saw herself shuffling into the classroom, all thirty of her students staring at her in disbelief.

The councillor shook her head in disapproval. 'It was eight thirty-six. Can you explain to me why you arrived at work nearly an hour late?'

Marla looked down in shame. She felt like a student herself, being detained by the teacher at the end of the school day. She didn't have an answer, like every other time she was asked about it.

'I know things are difficult at home. Your father, after everything he went through. Your mother—'

'I don't want to talk about it.' Marla kept her head lowered, her cheeks growing hot.

'But I do, because it's affecting your work and your students. This is not how a teacher can operate. Or any worker, for that matter. Look at me.' Marla obliged. 'I know what it's like to lose a mother. Five years ago, I lost mine—a couple of years before yours. I've lost people while we've been in this cocoon. I've lost friends and family before...' She trailed off, and Marla noticed some warmth in the councillor's eyes. Nia looked as if she wanted to say something else, but shook her had and took a moment to compose herself. 'It still hurts, every single day. Which is why you need things to focus on. Work. Because unfortunately, Miss Hightower, if you can't rectify this, then—'

'Then what?' Marla snapped, balling both fists—the cut in her hand flared and she nearly yelped. 'You'll cut off my meals and make me and Dad starve?'

'Miss Hightower—'

'You...you don't understand what it's like,' Marla said. She leaned forward, her eyes threatening to water. She squinted to hold back her tears, knowing how weak she would look in front of the councillor. 'I'm providing for me and him. You don't know what it's like to have that sort of responsibility—'

'Don't lecture me about responsibility.' Nia's voice rose. 'My job is to be responsible for not just the students here, but for the entire cocoon. One hundred thousand lives. Your job is to be responsible for just thirty of them. With everything that has happened, it's not asking for too much. The least you can do is play your part.'

'I never wanted to be a teacher.' Marla sounded more timid than she had intended to be.

'Not all of us can be Goldgills. I know you've expressed your wish at getting a job like that, but we cannot risk having many people go to the island. The cocoon may not live up to your expectations, but the open world is...wild. I've seen up close what a Lightbird can do.' Nia shuddered. 'The point is, we have to make the best of what we have. We're lucky to be alive.'

'Lucky.' Marla snorted.

'There's another issue that needs to be addressed,' Nia said, ignoring Marla's remark. 'Your teaching methods. This is not the first time we've discussed this. Reading from the textbook is not teaching.'

I'm not a teacher.

Nia leaned closer. 'You need to inspire your class. I understand this can be tricky in the circumstances we're all in. But the final tests are vital for us to see where we can place the students in the cocoon. Vital for the health and prosperity of the cocoon. I know you don't feel it, but you have an important role. You're an adult now, Miss Hightower. You have to teach, and you cannot arrive at lessons whenever you feel like it and then leave as soon as the buzzer sounds so you can waltz off to parties. The students look up to you, believe it or not.'

Marla bowed her head again. She could still see the amused expression on Darren's face. There was not a chance that he looked up to her, nor any of the other students. Not even Ruth.

Why would they?

'How's your hand?' Nia asked.

Marla dabbed at the wound again. 'Could be worse.'

'That was some strike.' Nia pulled up a video of Marla hitting the panel at the end of the lesson, causing Marla to involuntarily squeeze her hand, making her wince slightly. 'That glass isn't think. I don't know how you were able to shatter it with your bare hand.'

Marla looked up suddenly, her gut clenching. 'I'm...I'm sorry. Please don't cancel our meals. I'll do what I can to fix it. I—'

Nia raised her hand to silence her. 'You cannot fix it. Councillor Greenheart's technicians will have to sort it out. You can fix your attitude at work, though.' Marla stiffened at that, but thought better than to speak. 'As for your meals, you appear to forget that your father was a councillor before...things got more difficult. He will always get meals, even if he is not working. You are providing for yourself, not for both of you.'

That's irrelevant. He wouldn't eat if he knew I wasn't getting meals.

Not that he eats much, anyway.

Nia paused. Marla shuffled in the metallic chair, her sweaty armpits making her feel more uncomfortable.

'I won't cancel your meals today, Miss Hightower, but this will be the last conversation we have regarding the matter. Your students' results last year, as you know, were far below our expectations. If things continue the way they are, I won't have a choice.'

'Thank you.' Marla's shoulders sagged, the tension easing off.

'Give my best to your father.' Nia dismissed Marla.

Marla got up quickly, grabbing her bag from the floor and pulling her eyes away from Nia's interrogative stare, and hurried out of the office without looking back. She did, after all, have a party to get ready for.