Hero (Book Two)

by Laura Frances

  I’m watching them, trying to read their movements, but my fingers are roaming the ground, searching for the gun that was given to me for moments like this. I wonder if I’ll be forced to kill someone tonight. Maybe I’ll die instead because it’s too hard to choose to end a life. I find the handle and draw it closer to me.

  A roar fills the air, the sound shooting past high above our heads. My heart slams to a halt. Then it’s racing, the rhythm surging in my ears. I’m on my feet, running toward Meli. She jumps up, rifle aimed toward the sky.

  They know we’re here. They will flatten the mountain to stop us.

  Images of Norma flood my mind, hiding in a cabin with a handful of guards. They should have made it there by now. Cash will have left her already.

  All the soldiers are on their feet, sleep gone. We turn in circles, trying to see past all the branches we chose as a hiding place. Our ears tune to the sound of the jet, but the trees act against us, tossing the noise between their trunks.

  An explosive blast rocks the mountain. Terror makes my body rigid. The ground vibrates, loose rocks turning over, bouncing. Some of the soldiers take off running. When I register its direction, my feet follow, and I run breathless after the others. It is fear that makes me do it. Fear that Norma is really dead this time. Fear that Cash is too. I run faster than I can. Harder than I should. The path is difficult to navigate at night. I stumble, tripping, when the mountain quakes with another blast.

  The others leave the trail, veering off toward a clearing. They’ve stopped, chests rising and falling fast, and I approach to their black silhouettes set against the orange glow of fire in the distance.

  The world is stretched out for us. We’re halfway up the mountain, high enough to get a full view of the inferno happening down below. My hand flies to my mouth.

  It is Cash’s home.

  “No,” I whisper. Drew drops to his knees, eyes wide. Meli grabs a thick piece of a tree limb from the ground and throws it, an angry roar flying from her mouth.

  Cash was right. My stomach drops. If he’d left Norma at the house, she would be dead. The fire rises to a point, black smoke funneling toward the sky. There were soldiers there, the brave ones who stayed to guard our compound. They are dead now, unless they heard the jet in time. I look to Meli through a blur of tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I look at Drew. “I’m so sorry.”

  There are probably better words—something soothing I should say. But sorry is what I feel. They are already dying for us, for me. Drew runs his hands over his face. Another man presses a hand to a thick trunk, head hanging forward. They have left their families to bring us home, and I can’t feel anything but sorry in this moment. I wish I could shield them from the evil we’re up against.

  We stand motionless for a long time, watching helpless as Cash’s childhood home reduces to ash in the distance. I’ve given up trying to say anything useful. There’s solidarity in our silence. And I’ve noticed a new flicker in their eyes. They are attached to this war now. The battle is personal.

  “Let’s go,” Meli says. She turns on a heel and marches toward the path, not looking over her shoulder once. I follow her with my eyes before I move, trying to read her. But she has barred her emotions with steel. She controls them, not the other way around. I envy that in her.

  It takes no more than ten minutes to get everyone ready to move once we’re back at camp. There’s no chance of sleeping after that, so we’re moving forward. A woman hands me a bottle of water and tells me to hydrate. Someone else hands me a bar-shaped package. This one is packed oats and nuts and berries. I chew small bites as we start down the trail. I walk beside Drew, trying to think of something to say. All I can think of is to apologize again, so in the end I say nothing.

  There’s a change in the pace from yesterday. Our steps are urgent now, propelled forward by a fresh wave of anger. The deep dark of the night sky is giving way, and the longer we hike, the lighter it grows. But I can still see the stars and the bright white of the moon. I keep tripping because I want to look at them. I should memorize the image, because what if the Council wins this? If the sky returns to gray, I want those stars burned into my memory.

  Drew grabs my arm above the elbow when I stumble over a large rock.

  “Eyes on the road, slick,” he says. “Let’s get you to the top in one piece.”

  “Sorry,” I say. I meet his eyes. He’s trying to laugh at me, but the sadness is still too heavy to be lifted.

  “What’s with the sky?” he asks.

  I bite my bottom lip, eyes on the path. How can I explain this to someone who lived their whole life in the open?

  I shake my head. “Just don’t want to forget what it looks like.”

  Drew doesn’t respond, and I peek up at his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I forget.” He smiles, and I’m relieved. “I’m glad you can see it now.”

  The path grows steeper as time passes. I try my best to walk independently; I don’t want to be a burden. But when we reach what is barely more than a wall of rocks, I have to rely on Drew to get me to the top. It reminds me of the barricade around the southern edge—where Cash had to pull me over the piles of machinery. Thinking of him makes me feel more determined. I hope we’re getting close. I wonder if he could see his house burning.

  My teeth chatter in the wind, sending pain shooting through my jaw. The trees have thinned this high on the mountain, exposing us to the cold. Something tickles my nose, and I wipe it. Something else floats in the air in front of me, and I arch my neck back. Clouds hang heavy, releasing millions of white flakes of snow. A pang of sadness hits me. This is when the Outcasts in the alleys start to disappear.

  Beside me, Meli groans.

  “The snow,” she says when I look at her. “It’s gonna be a problem.”

  “It’s early,” I say, turning back the sky.

  “Exactly. Would’ve liked to wrap this thing up before we’re trapped down there in these conditions.”

  I don’t disagree. I understand Solomon’s motivations, but winter in the valley is brutal.

  I pull on my hood and press my bare hands into the pockets of my coat. The ground has evened out, and our pace picks back up.

  “Should be getting close,” Meli says. “Just remem-”

  She’s cut off when the soldiers at the front abruptly stop walking. I stumble into Drew. Meli moves toward the front of the group, and I follow. Her arm flies out, telling me to stop, and we all stand frozen.

  I can hear its grunting now. I peer past the falling snow, staring wide-eyed at a massive, brown creature. Its body is bulky and covered in thick hair. So they’re true—the stories about the beasts.

  “Look at its body,” Meli says in a calm, slow voice. “Not the eyes. And Parker, put the freaking gun down.”

  “Not a chance,” a soldier, Parker, mutters. I want to look at him, but I don’t dare tear my eyes from that creature. Not now that I’ve seen the length of its claws. They’re as long as my fingers.

  “All right, buddy,” Meli says, stepping out slowly, arms spread wide. She speaks gently, like a mother to a child. “You’re not in danger. And we won’t taste very good. Move along, and we’ll do the same.”

  My breathing shallows, and my gaze follows her careful footsteps. She doesn’t go far, but any inch closer to that beast is too close. The creature hops on its front feet, the grunting louder. Foggy breath puffs from its nostrils.

  “Go on,” Meli continues, her voice sing-song and sweet. “Find breakfast somewhere else. Only one of us is worth eating, but I’m telling you, his red hair’s gonna give you heartburn.”

  Behind me, Drew breathes a laugh. The guy beside me does too. Despite my fear, my lips pull in a smile. It feels good to do it after what happened a few hours ago.

  “What is it?” I whisper.

  “Bear,” the man beside me whispers back. “Grizzly.”

  Bear. I mouth the word and watch as it slowly backs away. Meli k
eeps talking to it, soothing it with a gentle voice. Finally, it turns completely and ambles toward the trees. Now that it’s leaving, I’m filled with a different feeling. The fear slowly subsides, and I’m left with wonder.

  “A bear,” I say, this time out loud. My hand flies to my mouth, holding back a laugh. I’d imagined the beasts of the mountains to be something else, perhaps from another world. But while I’m sure that bear could kill me, I find I’d rather let it live. It belongs among the trees and the rocks.

  The soldiers smack Meli’s back, laughing and shoving Drew, who they say is the reason the bear left. Didn’t have a taste for red-heads, they’re saying. I watch them, full of pride. Can you love people you barely know? Meli throws her head back in a wild laugh. She does it despite the anger still boiling behind her eyes. She laughs because she is in control, and right now she wants to feel relief.

  6

  We reach the top as the sun is beginning to rise. The snow has let up, and the sky erupts in pink and orange, the bright ball of heat rising from the ground in the east. I stop to watch.

  Chatter pulls my attention, and I turn to my right. Ian is crossing to me. Soldiers emerge from a different trail, fiery-eyed warriors pouring on to the flat of the summit. Ian stops beside me, turning to the sunrise and breathing deep. The golden sunlight makes his brown skin glow.

  “Did you see it?” I say. He chews his mouth and nods.

  “No one got out of that alive,” he says quietly.

  “I hope that’s not true.”

  After a beat, he says, “Me too. But they didn’t just bomb the house. They took out everything within a three-hundred-meter radius.”

  My eyes widen. “So, you mean—”

  “Anyone who took shelter along the tree line got hit,” he says. “They’d have to run pretty far to get out of range, and no one had that kind of time.”

  I turn back to the sun.

  After a long stretch of silence, Ian mutters, “I hate lions.”

  “Lions?”

  “Technically they’re mountain lions. Cougars. They’re huge predatory cats.”

  “We saw a bear!” I say, excited to tell someone. “It was huge too.” I shake my head, remembering the warped creatures I used to think roamed these woods.

  This makes him groan. He runs a hand down his face, his gaze shifting to the trees. “Got to get off this mountain.”

  I press my lips to keep from smiling.

  Ian dips his head toward the clump of soldiers. They’re walking toward the other side of this rocky stretch of earth to look over the valley. “Ready to see it from another point of view?”

  I push out a slow breath, eyes fixed on the pink sky again. “I’ll be there in a minute,” I say. “You go ahead.”

  Ian hesitates. “You sure?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I won’t be long. Promise. Besides,” I say, throwing him a grin. “That bear might have followed us. You’ll probably be safer with the others.”

  He laughs. I’ve missed his smile. I don’t know where it went after the first day. He shoots a glance at the trees again before turning to leave.

  “Don’t take too long.”

  When he’s gone, I’m no longer distracted from the anxiety building inside of me. I didn’t have time to get used to the valley without Edan. Even though I was with him when he died, I know I’ll look for him. I’ll feel the loss of him like the wounds are fresh. And now I’ll grieve for Aspen too.

  Movement draws my gaze to the left, and Cash is there. He’s standing quiet several yards away, watching me while the rest of his group hurries past. The wind lifts my hair, and it flies into my eyes, tangling around my face. When I finish wrestling it away, Cash is smiling.

  It only takes eight steps for us to meet in the middle. There’s a flutter of nerves just as I’m reaching him, but that doesn’t stop me from lifting to my toes and wrapping him in a hug. Every time I see him, when our eyes fix in a stuck kind of way, I worry that he’s thinking of his father. I worry that hate will take him if he thinks about it for too long. So I hug him the way I did on the roof. I hope it reminds him that he’s forgiven and that he’s brave.

  “Well done, soldier,” he murmurs before loosening his arms, the hug falling away. He grins. “You made it.”

  “Told you I would,” I say.

  Quickly the humor fades. My heart drops.

  “I’m so sorry, Cash,” I say. “Your home…”

  He shakes his head. “I knew it would happen. I only wish I’d convinced the others to leave.”

  He says it strong, but his eyes say the truth stings. Everything that belonged to his mother, all the pictures that proved he lived a beautiful childhood, are gone.

  I turn toward the other soldiers, apprehension building when I see their faces as they take in the valley. My head shakes.

  “I don’t think I can do it,” I say.

  Cash looks off too, toward the valley we can’t see yet. He slides his hand into mine.

  “Come on,” he says.

  The group parts when we approach. Some of them wear pale faces, the color drained from their cheeks. Others tighten their jaws, eyes hard and angry. All of them watch me with sideways glances.

  When my eyes touch the scene stretched in front of us, my heart sinks. I’d always known it was bad. Even with nothing to compare it to, I knew the life we lived was wrong. But this is more than I was ready to absorb. I want to take it in small doses, but my eyes are too wide, and it all comes in too fast. My hand slips free, and I step forward.

  Everywhere I look brings a pang of sadness. The chimneys that belch smoke and blot out the sky. The factories where weary Workers labor under threat of death. It is a tightly packed maze of crumbling buildings and dead dreams. The white peaks of the mountains surround the valley like jagged teeth. I can tell which factories are still active by the pillars of smoke rising from their pipes. My eyes are drawn to the living unit towers, and I’m taken back to a time when loneliness ate at me—when the memories of my parents haunted my nights. Fires rage, plumes of black pouring from structures. I strain to see what’s burning, but it’s too far, and my eyes are wet. This place is death. Snow has blanketed everything in white, and when I close my eyes, I see the blue lips of the Outcasts. They will die now. They will drift away, shivering in the cold air. We can’t possibly get them all in time.

  No one talks. There aren’t words for this. Around us, the Southern soldiers stare shocked. They couldn’t have known. I don’t blame them for being ignorant of the truth. They see it now, and that’s what matters. Now they can prepare, because the truth is laid out before them, and they’ll never be able to forget.

  The wind kicks up, and the scent of it burns my nose. I let my hair fly untamed—let the cold sting my eyes. I feel Cash near me, just a step back. His warmth reminds me that hope is alive. It would be easy to forget.

  Soldiers start moving, but I still can’t tear my eyes from it. The scene is so much worse from up here.

  “There,” someone says. “In the center. That has to be the barracks.”

  “That’s the air field just north of the largest building. See it?”

  “Here,” Cash says behind me. His hand appears at my side holding a device with two glass circles on either end.

  “Look through these,” he murmurs, tapping the smallest circles.

  I lift the glass to my eyes, and my vision enhances. The buildings appear to be only yards away. I lower the device for a second, curious. When I lift it again, I scan the valley for the barracks, then find the air field. That must be it, because it’s littered with helicopters. Soldiers rush in every direction. I try to focus on their faces, but I can’t make them out.

  “You’re right,” Cash says. “The barracks are in the center. The entire compound is bordered by a concrete wall.”

  When I turn to meet his eyes, they’re heavy.

  “It’s why they couldn’t get out,” he says quietly. “They couldn’t escape after they’d set off the explosions
.”

  My eyes are stuck on his, and I try not to blink. If I close them for the shortest second, I’ll see Aspen: pinned against the fence, wide-eyed while the Watchers approach. I press my lips together hard and glare away the tears. I wonder if Jace suffered for what he did. Was he shaking, trembling in the face of death? Part of me hopes so. He led Aspen to her end. She was fourteen.

  Cash matches my hard look. He understands, so he doesn’t scold me for feeling the darker things. Maybe he should, and maybe at some point he’ll have to. I like to believe that my heart isn’t so far gone that I’d let the bitterness fester. Norma tried to soothe those tendencies out of me during my childhood. But when I see Aspen in my thoughts, bleeding on the ground, only a child…I think some things might be bad enough to break me.

  We don’t linger at the summit. For the first thirty minutes of our descent into the valley, no one says a word. I watch the others, but their faces are stony and impossible to read. Above us, birds weave in and out of branches, calling to one another. Perhaps they’re warning the beasts that we’re near. Maybe they fear us as much as we fear them. I want to shush them, tell them they’re giving us away. But it isn’t the beasts that I’m afraid of.

  Cash walks near the front, but his head turns occasionally, his eyes finding mine. I walk near the middle with Meli and Drew. The trees block the harshness of the wind the farther down we hike, but I’m still shivering.

  “He’ll be so angry,” Drew says, breaking the silence. His jaw is clenched. He turns to Meli. “Did you get images?”

  Meli nods. “Soon as the weather clears, the signal should strengthen. I’ll send them then.”

  We continue in the quiet of the woods. The path is steep, but it’s easier going down. With my thigh muscles engaged for balance, I feel the place where the needle dug. I wonder what Titus feels when he sees the valley the way I just did. Can a scene like that fill a man with pride, knowing he and the other Council members are responsible for it? Maybe he only sees the factories—the wealth our labor brings. My eyes flick to Cash, and I remember the night on the roof, when he told me that he’d shot freezing Outcasts. My body heats, anger narrowing my eyes. I know Titus is a man; I’ve seen his face—smelled his breath when he threatened me. But the things he does, and the things he makes his soldiers do, has me questioning it.