365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  He was out.

  Mia and Lance suddenly passed in front of me, heading toward Frank and Peyton’s table. They weren’t holding hands—not even touching—but they had a rumpled, slightly out-of-breath look of two teenagers who had just finished a heavy petting session.

  Which, ironically, made me think of Rhys and Shawnee. I looked around but could see neither one of them in the room.

  My guess was that Shawnee was somewhere off with Wyatt. Of course, neither of them would make a good challenger against Brandon.

  Rhys, however, was another matter.

  There was something positively feral about Jacob’s youngest brother at times. I had no doubt that he would kill Brandon if the opportunity arose. But I also knew that—being so much smaller than Brandon—Rhys wouldn’t stand a chance in the Arena.

  He would be cut down.

  And of course—like with Kieran—Jacob would never allow it.

  * * * *

  Throughout the party, I continued to watch all the guys carefully, searching for something in one of them that would let me know that he was the one—the challenger. There were a few guys who caught my eye, who were big and tough—others who had martial arts training, and even one who had fought in an MMA tournament back in the old world.

  But each guy I considered had a drawback.

  A flaw—one that I believed would ultimately be fatal to them.

  This kid had a brown belt, but he was a foot smaller than Brandon. That one was two inches taller than Brandon, but he didn’t know how to fight. And that one over there had everything going for him—big, tough, and a blue belt in karate—but he was also a coward, the type of kid I suspected would not even make it into the Arena. Instead, he would run far and fast in the opposite direction of the Valley.

  * * * *

  Which left me three possibilities—Erroll and Jacob.

  And my secret candidate—the one I didn’t even want to consider right now, a choice that would be unthinkable to so many in our tribe.

  Perhaps even—unforgiveable.

  If, as Alice had told me, we needed someone that Brandon would be certain to choose as his challenger, than either Erroll or Jacob would be a good choice. Erroll, of course, would most likely be chosen simply by virtue of his physique; the kid was big and muscular and he looked like he would put on a good fight.

  And Jacob—well, if he showed up in the Arena, Brandon would be tickled pink. I had no doubt that Jacob would be chosen immediately. But I also knew that—if Jacob went into that Arena with Brandon—the boy that I loved would probably die.

  My mind went back and forth, considering.

  Erroll or Jacob?

  Either one was close to a sure thing when it came to being chosen.

  Or should I go with the other—my third, secret choice?

  * * * *

  As I was leaving the party room later in the evening—my mind caught up in challengers and Arena battles and a little pea-sized life nestled somewhere behind my belly—I didn’t even notice Jacob and Miley until I was almost upon them.

  They were sitting close together on the main staircase. Jacob was drinking a beer, his eyes half-closed, while Miley leaned into him, chattering away.

  There was a freshness to Miley that irritated me. While us original girls had become tanned and lean over the last two years, Miley still maintained that slightly-plump, American high school-look from before.

  Even though Jacob didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Miley, I still found myself welling up with jealousy. It hurt to see Jacob with her—with someone so pretty, so sweet-looking, so…not me.

  When Miley leaned over and, impulsively, gave Jacob a quick kiss on the cheek, I almost lost it. Spinning on my heels, trying desperately not to cry, I raced for the servants’ staircase at the back of the mansion—hoping to make it up into my bedroom before anyone could witness my humiliation and despair.

  Halfway there, however, I had to veer off—apparently a toilet needed puking in.

  I was being welcomed to my pregnancy.

  And it looked like it was going to be a heck of a ride.

  * * * *

  Sadly—Jacob never made it back to our rooms that night.

  Around five in the morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, I gave up trying to sleep and wandered down to the knoll. My guards—yawning and half-asleep themselves—followed at a distance. I had asked them not to come, wanting some privacy, but they had ignored my request.

  Luckily, Erroll wasn’t with them; hopefully, he, at least, would manage a good night’s sleep.

  I think that part of me was hoping that I would find Jacob in the Nature Preserve, tending to the graves, alone and depressed—that he would see me coming and hold out his arms. I would run into them, we would apologize to each other for anything we’d done or said to hurt the other. Then, we would profess our love and everything would be okay again.

  Except that it was Shawnee in the graveyard and not Jacob.

  She was standing in front of the stones that Jacob had placed, no doubt thinking about Cherry. Wyatt was waiting patiently nearby.

  From the knoll above, I looked down as Shawnee’s head lowered, her shoulders rising and falling with quiet sobbing. After a few moments, Wyatt moved over and took her in his arms to comfort her.

  I felt so bad for Shawnee—wanted so desperately to tell her to dry her tears, that her big sister wasn’t missing, that Cherry was alive. But to do that, I would have to betray Cherry’s confidence—and put her life in danger—and Connor’s.

  No matter what—I had to remember.

  There was a plan; things were about to change.

  Nothing…absolutely nothing…must interfere with that.

  And that meant sacrifice—for Shawnee, for Cherry, for Connor—for me.

  For all of us.

  * * * *

  When I finally returned to the mansion, I was surprised to find Jude and Kieran sitting in a small alcove just outside of Jacob’s and my rooms. They immediately jumped up when they saw me, trying to hide the guilt on their faces.

  “Wow,” I joked, “you guys must have definitely been talking about me.”

  Kieran actually blushed, while Jude looked down at her feet.

  “Relax,” I told them, yawning. “I’m too tired to care. I just want to jump in my bed and go to sleep for about ten hours. So, if you’ve got something you want to tell me, say it now.”

  Jude cleared her throat. “That Miley girl is a bitch.”

  My heart sank—oh god, what were they trying to tell me?

  “No!” said Kieran, quickly—shaking his hands in the air. “That’s not what Jude means at all.”

  “I one hundred per cent do believe that girl is a bitch!” growled Jude. “And she’s a bitch up to no damn good.”

  Kieran pushed at her. “Dude, look at Kaylee’s face! Like you’re making it exactly what we didn’t want it to be.”

  “Oh crap.” Jude turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Calm down, okay, Barbie. It’s not what you think.”

  “I am calm,” I told both of them—although I was becoming irritated. “You guys are the ones spazzing out. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  A look passed between Kieran and Jude—as if they were deciding who should speak first.

  “It’s Jacob,” Kieran finally began. “Like we saw him with Miley on the stairs last night.”

  “And we know that you saw, too,” added Jude.

  “So, what?” I said, trying to keep my face blank—trying to act like it didn’t matter, that their words didn’t hurt. “They were just talking.”

  Jude snorted her derision. “Whatever.”

  “That it…can I go to bed now?”

  Kieran looked uncomfortable. “No, it’s…well, me and Jude…”

  “We took care of business,” Jude broke in. “So, nothing happened between them, okay? Like we wanted you to know that…so you wouldn’t worry.”

  “What do you mea
n, you took care of business?” I asked, suspicious.

  Grinning, Jude made a fist and pounded it into her other hand.

  Kieran immediately frowned and pushed at her again. “Jacob spent the night in Cammie’s and my bedroom last night is what Jude’s talking about. We carried him there and he slept on the couch. He was pretty drunk.”

  “So, are you telling me all this because something happened with the new girl,” I asked, “or because nothing happened?”

  “Nothing!” Kieran quickly said. “Like Jacob loves you, Kaylee. Nobody else. I mean, my brother may be acting like an ass these days…”

  “A complete tool,” murmured Jude.

  “But that Miley chick means nothing to him,” Kieran continued. “Jacob was just drunk, right? He probably didn’t even realize it was her talking to him. So like, don’t go thinking other stuff, okay? That’s why we’re here—to make sure you don’t take it wrong.”

  And yet—I was.

  “Where is Jacob now?”

  “Drunk-snoring,” grinned Jude. “Dude didn’t even wake up when we put him in your bed. We carried him up here about an hour ago.”

  “But he was definitely in my bedroom all night long,” Kieran insisted. “Nowhere else.”

  I sighed. “Well, I guess I’d better head in, then.”

  Before I managed two steps, Jude had me by the arm, holding me fast. “It’s no excuse…but you know Jacob hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened…on the expedition.”

  “Well, it’s time,” I told her, pulling her hand off my arm. “Because I’m sorry, but this is getting old.”

  * * * *

  Jacob was right where Kieran and Jude said he’d be—lying half under the covers on our bed, smelling of stale beer, and snoring away. He looked surprisingly innocent; his face was completely relaxed for once—not stern, not accusing.

  I sat on the bed beside him, running my fingers through his hair.

  “Please come back, Jacob,” I whispered. “I need you.”

  He must have heard me, because he raised his head slightly, moving just enough to lay it on my legs.

  “Need you,” Jacob murmured.

  Then, he began to snore again—even louder than before.

  * * * *

  I would like to say that things returned to normal between us when Jacob woke up seven hours later. But the truth was, that our relationship remained strained—although I could see that he was trying harder.

  Instead of wandering around the Point, Jacob stayed in the compound most days. At times, he even attended Council meetings, actually contributing to the discussions.

  The nights were still difficult, though.

  He seemed to be uncomfortable around me—as if uncertain as to how close he should get. At times, I would catch him looking at me with tremendous longing; at other times with disdain.

  Perhaps if I hadn’t been so consumed with Alice and the Stars’ plan for their ‘revolution’, I would have tried harder myself.

  But I didn’t.

  In actuality, it was easier for me to go about my preparations with Jacob at a distance. It kept me from having to lie to him—because I knew, if he found out what I was planning—that he would try to change my mind.

  And I couldn’t allow that.

  So, Jacob and I remained polite and friendly—but it didn’t go farther than that.

  He still came to bed late at nights, generally after I’d already fallen asleep. In the mornings he would be gone before I arose, which was also helpful, since then he didn’t witness me puking my guts out every few days.

  Fracking morning sickness!

  * * * *

  And then, finally—my decision had been made.

  We—the Locals—would be sending up a challenger.

  This whole ‘revolution’ plan was crazy, no doubt. But—like Alice—I believed it would probably be our only chance to take out Brandon and the Foxes. And to do that, we needed someone who could get near enough to wield the killing blow.

  A challenger…a killer.

  And so—after days and nights of careful and terrified consideration—I had finally chosen the one I hoped could actually do it. In reality, it had been obvious from the start who needed to go—it had just taken me a while to accept it.

  Now, it was onto the next step.

  Time to talk to Erroll—and a few select others.

  * * * *

  “Here are our choices,” I told them. “We fight and win in the Arena or we evacuate or we stay here and die.”

  In front of me was my team—all of whom had just learned that they were being drafted to fight the Crazies in a most unconventional way. Along with me, five people in total—one challenger and four support members.

  Together, I was hoping that we would be enough to defeat Brandon, bring down the Foxes and the Crazies, and restore peace to both the Conejo Valley and Point Dume.

  Piece of cake, right?

  Over the course of the previous hour, we had all arrived separately, making our way to our first secret meeting in a mansion on Cliffside Drive. Now, we were locked inside of what appeared to be a panic room—a place where the rich owners of the mansion would have secured themselves in the case of a threat such as a home invasion.

  In our case—it was to plan a murder.

  “The truth is,” I continued, “that we won our first battle against the Crazies because they weren’t prepared. We surprised them with our defenses. But they know our tricks now, so they won’t be making the same mistakes. The next time they come for us, it will be with an overwhelming number of soldiers and weapons. And when they come—and they will come—the Crazies will most likely kill us…they will enslave us…they will eat us.”

  I looked around the room—at each of my team members in turn, gauging their reaction.

  Florenza—looking intrigued.

  Nate—confused.

  Wyatt—scared.

  And Erroll—not exactly impressed.

  * * * *

  “I vote for evacuation,” squeaked Wyatt. “Like immediately!”

  “We can do that,” I acknowledged. “But if we do, we’ll probably lose people. As of last week, our sentries have discovered way more Crazy-watchers in the hills above us. I mean, we’ve always known they were there, but it’s different now…like they’re there specifically to watch for us leaving. From what our guys can see, the Crazies have set up a runner system all the way up to the Valley and Point Mugu. I sent one of our longboats out two days ago to test an escape route and the Crazies followed it all the way up the coastline.”

  “What does it matter, if we’re on the water?” asked Wyatt. “It’s not like they can get at us there, right? We could make it across to Catalina Island or up the coast before they could do anything.”

  “We still don’t have enough boats to evacuate the whole tribe at once,” I said. “It would take days to move everybody—which would mean leaving behind a smaller and smaller amount of guys on every trip. So, who gets chosen to be moved last, because you just know they’d be the ones slaughtered?”

  “Plus, the Crazies have been moving up boats of their own,” Nate added. “Xav and Sandeep counted five brought ashore down past Paradise Cove just in the last week. There was a good six to eight guys for each boat, so that’s, like thirty-five, forty Crazies on the coastline. We evacuate onto the water, they can come at us pretty easy even there. And with the size of their guys, they’d probably catch up to us without any problem. We simply couldn’t row fast enough.”

  “They don’t want us to evacuate,” Florenza suggested. “What do you think, chief?”

  I sighed. “Either Brandon and the Foxes have put the boats and soldiers there to keep us from leaving, or the boats are there as part of their attack plan. Either way—we’re in trouble.”

  “And if we stay and do nothing, they’re still gonna’ come to kill us.” Florenza ran her hand over her enormous belly, bending her head toward it. “But don’t you worry, mija. Because, even if t
he bad men do come, your mami will kill them first. She got mad skills.”

  “Yes, you do,” I grinned at her. “And I’ll get to that in a moment.”

  Florenza looked up—curious.

  Wyatt, however, still wanted to find a way off of the Point. “Maybe we could all, like just sneak away at night.”

  Erroll spoke up for the first time since we began the meeting. “It’s going to be hard enough to get this team up into the Valley without being caught.” His voice was hard and gruff; he was still unsettled from what I had just told him privately. “Can you imagine trying to sneak a whole tribe through the hills, because you certainly couldn’t send that many people down the highway? And let’s face it—Point Dume is basically surrounded. Head south, you’re into Crazy-territory. Head north, and now we’ve got the damn Point Mugu guys at the Naval Station to worry about. Most of us wouldn’t make it if we tried to evacuate. They’d just cut us down along the way.”

  “What’s that about Point Mugu?” Nate looked confused. “Those guys on the naval base are basically hermits, aren’t they? Like completely neutral.”

  “Not anymore,” I shrugged. “Orla made a deal with them—traded girls for a treaty. Come the new year, they’ll be attacking us with the Crazies—except that they’ll be bringing along some really big weapons.”

  “Great!” whimpered Wyatt. He looked like he was about to be sick.

  “Lemme’ get this straight,” said Florenza, squirming a little in her seat. “We got Crazies coming up the coast in boats in case we try and evacuate on the water. Meanwhile, them whackos up at the Naval Station have jumped in with the Crazies to keep us from taking off north. And if we just stay here, we’re still gonna’ all probably die.”

  “Or they’ll make us slaves,” whined Wyatt. “I don’t want to be a slave!”

  Nate poked Wyatt in his stomach. “You’ve still got baby fat. They’ll probably just eat you, dude.”

  Wyatt paled; he looked absolutely horrified.