Dantel reaches for me, but I twist out of his grasp so all he gets is a fistful of my hair. He yanks me back and panic claws up my chest, gaining a foothold. I kick back and connect my heel with his shin. He swears and lets go.
My pulse thundering violently, I turn and run. The socks provide only minimal protection, but I push through the pain. Dantel’s ragged breaths are too close still. I dig deep and find a burst of speed, enough to pull away from him. When I glance back, he’s bent at the waist, his back heaving, but I don’t back off.
When my lungs burn and every breath scrapes my throat, I slow my pace but never stop. By dawn, I’m in the foothills. I avoid the worn footpath, opting to wade through the brush instead. The trek is steep and branches claw at my arms and legs. Before long I’m winded and my feet ache, but still I press on.
The sun climbs high, inflaming the earth around me. The sweet dusty smell of the desert surrounds me and a grimy layer of dirt and sweat plasters my skin. The hot wind feels like opening an oven door and sends pieces of hair into my face that cling to the sticky coating.
The day wears on and the climb becomes steeper until I’m forced to stop for a short rest. I twist and knot my stupid hair on my head to keep it off my neck. A nap calls to me with promises of relief, but I’m still not far enough away from the house.
The sun continues its relentless assent, turning the air from blistering to scorching. The muscles in my calves scream in protest before cramping. My throat is drier than the ground I stumble across, my stomach has long since given up on food, and I’m scared as hell.
When I reach the top, I pull up in the shade of a large boulder and sit, resting my head on the rock. My eyes close and vivid images bombard me in that place between waking and dreaming.
A rattling sound startles me, and my eyes fly open, scanning the area. A beige snake with black markings is coiled a few feet from me with its head and long neck up.
Neither the snake nor I move as blood rushes through my ears. My brain is encouraging me to run at the same time instinct tells me not to. The snake and I stare at each other, and for several long moments, the only movement is the snake’s quivering tail.
I blow out a short breath. “I won’t beat you senseless with a rock if you don’t bite me. Deal?”
It doesn’t answer, only flicking that stupid tail the way my sisters’ cats do when they believe they’ve been annoyed beyond reason. Fighting the urge to bolt, I scoot away crab-style, putting the boulder between us. When I’m on the other side, I scramble up, turn and run, my left foot slipping on a loose stone as I go.
As the day drags on, a weird sensation flows over and under my skin, like I’m on a vibrating platform. It occurs to me it’s been awhile since I’ve needed to wipe sweat off my brow, although it’s hotter now than ever.
Overwhelming thirst dominates my thoughts and I glance around for signs of water, but all I see are dirt, stones, and plants. Breathing is harder now, which is odd because I’m heading downhill. The sun burns my pale skin, but the only shade is near the larger rocks. Since a rock is where I met my little snake friend, I avoid all of them.
My brain churns through the run-in with the snake, something nibbling away in the dark corners my mind. During a short break, I take in my surroundings and it hits me what it is about the snake that bothers me. We were told the Ruins are uninhabitable, but the snake proves at least something besides desert plants can live here. And if it’s here, it’s eating something else that lives here.
Scanning the ground for evidence of life, I spot scattered holes and a lizard sunning itself. The Union said it would take hundreds of years for the Ruins to support life again, but life managed to take hold despite what we did out here. This gives me hope, and with a burst of renewed energy, I stand and continue on.
By the time darkness falls, my head weighs a hundred pounds and my limbs are buzzing. I rest my head against the trunk of a strange looking spiky-leafed tree, closing my eyes for only a moment to catch my breath.
The next thing I’m aware of, it’s nearing dawn. I push myself up on jelly arms, consumed with manic thoughts of water. My pace is much slower than yesterday when I resume my trek.
Once the sun rises, I can make out trees in the distance. Real ones with actual leaves, which means there must be water nearby. I’m not sure Ruins water is safe to drink, but I do know I’m going to die if I don’t drink something.
Even though I’ve been walking for hours, the trees don’t appear any closer. My legs have taken on a sponge-like quality and I stumble, but manage to stay upright. If I fall, I may never get up again.
When I finally arrive at the nearest tree, there’s no water. How is that possible? Despair overtakes me and I drop down, pounding my fists on the wasted ground. I stuff a soft green leaf in my mouth, seeking moisture, but I’m so parched, I gag on the pieces, which tears my throat like shards of broken glass.
My head spins as roll to my back and struggle to form rational thoughts, but there’s nothing rational about this. I left home to find my place in the world, is this really where my search was supposed to lead me? It’s more like a cruel joke. If I was on a date with destiny, it just took a bizarre turn into a twisted ending I never saw coming.
If only I hadn’t gone to the park that night, none of this would’ve happened. I begin to cry. For my family and friends who will never know what happened to me, and for myself. I’m not ready to die; I’m only seventeen.
I can’t help wondering if I would have spent so much time agonizing over my future if I’d known I’d be dead so soon. If I’d known, maybe I’d have done everything differently.
Now I know my future.
My life ends here.
Alone.
In the Ruins.
13
Irrational Thoughts
My mom stands below me, watching as I glide above the earth. Worry lines crease her brow, but I smile and tell her I’m okay. Lisa and Colin call for me, lifting rocks and peeking beneath them. I yell down to them, but they continue their search as if they didn’t hear.
Bryce appears before me, arms crossed, a sneer on his face. He lets out a half laugh. “You actually believed I loved you. You’re so gullible, it was almost too easy.” His face twists and morphs into Walker’s.
Belt in hand, Dantel approaches and reaches for me.
A small voice asks, “Is she dead?”
Is who dead? I struggle to open my eyes, but I think someone glued them shut.
Another voice answers, “I’m not sure... No, she’s still breathing.”
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she’s from around here. Have you ever seen hair that color?”
I want to ask them who they’re talking about, but my lips won’t move. The effort to speak wears me out and I drift into a world without color, or light, without dreams, or fears.
A cool breeze ruffles my hair and the sharp call of a bird cuts through the silence. I start to ask Lisa and Colin how they found me, but they tumble away, like small shells sucked out by the tide.
Water fills my mouth, choking me. Water!
A lilting female voice says, “Not so fast, you’ll make yourself sick.”
I turn toward the voice but I can’t see. Something is over my eyes. Terror floods me, and I try to sit up, but I don’t have the energy.
“Ben, can you go check on the broth?” the voice asks.
I pull back from her, trying to make sense of where I am and what’s happening.
“You’re dehydrated. We need to be careful to balance your electrolytes.”
Oh, good, I’m in a hospital. She knows what she’s doing. My thoughts become heavy, like feet dragging through deep mud. A cold, sticky substance is rubbed onto my sunburned lips, and I flinch.
“Sorry,” she whispers. Small footsteps stop next to the bed. “Thank you, Ben.”
A straw is placed in my mouth and I take a sip, gagging when the rancid taste hits my tongue.
Sh
e laughs. “It’s awful, I know. Take small sips.”
I start to ask who she is and where I am, but she shoves the straw back between my lips, forcing me to drink more.
“Get some rest. We’ll talk later, but…you’re safe for now.”
For now? Like I might not be safe later? Footsteps recede and soon I’m drifting somewhere between consciousness and delirium.
When I wake, my eyes are no longer covered. Sitting up, I take in my surroundings. This isn’t like any hospital room I’ve ever seen. The walls are white plaster and stone, curving into a domed ceiling with a round window at the top, bathing the room in soft, natural light. No fancy machines sit beside my bed, and speaking of the bed, it’s just a regular mattress on a rustic wood frame. My skin tingles as I realize this is all very wrong.
A high-back wooden chair and a small table with a chipped ceramic cup of wildflowers sits next to the bed. Across the room is a beat-up chest of drawers with several missing drawer pulls, and simple white drapes hang above the windows.
A stunningly beautiful girl, who looks to be about my age, enters the room with a glass of water. Her flawless skin is the color of caramel and her long, dark hair is braided into dozens of tiny cornrows adorned with beads. She’s dressed in denim shorts, a tank top, and high-top boots — no scrubs.
A beautiful smile warms her face, making her pale brown eyes crinkle at the corners. She hands me the glass. “Hello, I’m Sonia.”
It’s the same melodic voice I heard earlier. My voice cracks and breaks when I attempt to say my name. I take a sip and try again. “I’m Evan.” It comes out hoarse, not sounding like me at all. “Where am I?”
“We call it Green Canyon and that’s as good a name as any.”
What the hell kind of answer is that?
Her eyes crinkle again. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, I need to treat your burns.”
A blonde girl of fifteen or sixteen enters carrying an aloe vera plant and hands it to Sonia. Her long hair is collected into a single braid reaching to her waist. She has a smattering of freckles across her nose and large, wide-spaced blue eyes.
Sonia smiles at her. “Thank you, Ally.”
Ally gives me a sideways glance and a half smile before sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the bed. Sonia snaps off a leaf and rubs the soothing gel to the sunburned areas of my shoulders, arms, and face.
“Where are your shoes?” Sonia asks.
“I lost them.”
She stares at me as if I just told her I’d misplaced my head and not my flip-flops, but she doesn’t say anything more about them as she applies a sticky paste to the bottoms of my feet.
When she’s finished, she stands. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She walks out, leaving me alone with Ally.
I check the condition of my feet. They don’t seem too bad. “What’s that stuff she put on me?”
Ally chews the inside of her cheek. “You’re not from around here are you?”
Well that was non-sequitur. I want to ask about my family and friends, how they found me, and what happened to my kidnappers, but before I can pick one, Sonia returns with three guys and yet another girl. This girl is attitude personified and her royal blue eyes bore into mine, making me squirm.
A tall guy exuding confidence steps forward. He’s over six feet, incredibly good looking in a natural, rough-around-the-edges sort of way, and is about two days beyond needing a shave, but somehow it works on him. Raking a hand through his short wavy brown hair, his dark eyes travel over my face.
Finally, he smiles and reaches out to shake my hand. “Hi. I’m Lucien.” His voice is deep and resonant, and more than a little sexy.
I take his hand and I’m surprised by how rough it is beneath mine. “I’m Evan,” I say with a very non-sexy croak.
He gestures toward a guy who looks remarkably like him with the exception of his eyes, which are lighter in color. “This is my brother, Cyrus.” Then he nods at the tallest of them, a boy with dark skin and a smile that consumes his entire face. “That’s Marcus.” Lucien takes Miss Attitude’s hand and pulls her to him, wrapping an arm around her waist. “And this is Draya.”
Draya appraises me with her cold eyes but doesn’t say a word. She’s the only one who hasn’t smiled. The dynamic of this group is not professional, like they’re friends or family rather than colleagues.
Draya turns to Sonia and Ally. “Can you step out for a few minutes?”
Unease rolls through me as the other two girls leave.
Lucien grabs the chair from beside the bed and flips it around, setting it across from me. He sits with his arms crossed over the back and studies me. “How did you get here?”
“Um, I don’t know. The last thing I remember was being out in the Ruins. I assume someone rescued me. That wasn’t you?”
Instead of answering my question, he asks me another. “Where do you think you are?”
“I’m not sure. Don’t you know?”
I study the faces in the room but can’t decipher what any of them are thinking, except Draya. A small, amused smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
My face must betray my growing uncertainty, because Lucien says, “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m just trying to piece together what you’re doing out here.”
Out here? Wait, what? I’m still in the Ruins and haven’t been rescued at all. Realization crawls over my skin like tiny bugs. I’m not home, I’m not safe, and these people aren’t my rescuers. Maybe they didn’t let me die in the desert, but they didn’t take me home either. There are no good reasons to keep me in the Ruins, only very bad ones.
My eyes dart to the door and I wonder how quickly I can make it out of here. But after that, where would I go? Perhaps if I pretend to cooperate for now, I can try to go out one of the windows later.
“How did you get out here?” Miss Attitude demands.
“Back off, Draya,” the brother says, his voice low and even. “Look at her. She’s terrified.” Cyrus, I think Lucien called him.
I set my jaw and stare him down, hating that I’ve shown them weakness.
He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “What can you remember?”
The gesture is far too familiar for a stranger. Anger beats back some of my fear, and I sit a little straighter and narrow my eyes. I’m fed up with being kidnapped, pawed at, and fighting for my survival.
The staring contest continues for several long moments before Cyrus stands and whispers something to his brother. Lucien then pulls Draya and the other guy from the room.
The rising wave of anger I was riding peters out now that we’re alone. He’s got a good seven inches on me and probably outweighs me by more than sixty pounds. The muscles in his arms flex, all corded and sinewy, leaving no doubt he can do some serious damage to me with just one of those arms.
He watches me as I process my defensive strategy, but in a completely unexpected move, takes a seat on the floor a few feet away. My eyes take in every detail, assessing my opponent. He’s not like Walker’s crew. He’s younger and a lot cleaner, although good grooming doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy, but he might be my best chance to find out what’s going on.
“I want some answers before I’ll tell you anything,” I say.
He blows a puff of air out between his lips. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”
“Who are you?”
“Um…” He cocks his head to the side, as if I’d asked him the lamest question ever. “I’m Cyrus—”
“Not your name, but who you are and what you want with me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
I let out a frustrated huff. “Why are you out here?”
“We live here.”
My hands ball into fists. “Why are you lying to me?”
His forehead crinkles and his eyebrows draw together. “Evan…I’m not.”
“I may be confused about a lot right now, but I do know people don’t live in the Ruins.”
/> His expression softens. “We’ve lived in the Ruins our whole lives. We used to live northeast of here until a tornado destroyed our town. But we were all born out here.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on? Who are you and what do you want with me?”
He scratches a thumbnail across his eyebrow. “You’re not going to believe anything I tell you anyway, so why don’t you tell me what you think’s going on.”
His condescension is infuriating, building pressure in my head, but I’ll play along for now. “Fine. You’re in business with Walker and you’re either trying to get a ransom from my uncle or something to do with Bryce. What I can’t figure out is why you haven’t handed me back yet.”
Anger flashes in his eyes and I realize I’ve pissed off a potential kidnapper. Maybe not my smartest move. He opens his mouth but no words come out. Instead he shakes his head. Silent minutes of silence pass until it becomes clear he’s not going to say anything.
“How long have I been here?” I ask.
“Four days.”
“Four days? How could I have been here four days?”
“You were in bad shape. Sonia gave you something to help you sleep.”
The top of my scalp prickles and seething anger unfurls inside me. Walker will be here any minute and they made sure I wouldn’t be any trouble until he arrived. There’s nothing I can do now.
Hopeless frustration takes over and I snap. “You drugged me?” Before he can respond I scream, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
He lets out a deep sigh as he stands and leaves the room without another word.
Rage like I’ve never known saturates me and I hurl the glass of water in my hand across the room. It hits the wall, shattering.
Ally flies into the room a few seconds later, eyes wide as she takes in the shards on the floor. “What happened?”
The Union Page 7