“You have a full team, Eli, but I want you to bring Peony, too,” Anza directs.
“What for?” he scoffs.
She studies me. “To observe. She needs to get back out there.”
“I—” I start to say, but my voice is too soft for her to notice. I don’t want to go back out. I don’t want to risk capture. I want to speak up, but I can’t make myself.
Eli is directing everyone around to get ready. I can see his mouth moving, but I can’t make out his words.
Where are we going?
The others are getting knives and guns from Stella and tucking them into the jackets and coats that Anza is passing out.
Why do we need weapons?
Anza approaches and holds a jacket out to me, to hide away weapons and to cover my Compound dress. Our scavengers haven’t been able to steal enough clothes from the towns for all of us yet and, unlike the ones that usually go on missions, I haven’t warranted any.
I can’t make my arms move. They’re the only thing holding me together, keeping the energy inside that would break me if it escaped.
“What’s wrong, Peony?” Anza asks.
I don’t want to go.
I can think it, but I can’t make my mouth work. I close my eyes and will it, but it makes no difference.
—You can do this.
I hear her voice in my mind, breaking through my resistance.
—Calm, Peony. Loosen your muscles. Find them and let them go.
I look at her for a moment before closing my eyes again. I focus on my forehead, releasing the tension. I do the same with my neck, my jaw, my hands and arms, my calves.
I’m ok.
But what if, my thoughts begin questioning again and my arms tighten back up around my body.
—Stop. You control your own thoughts, Peony.
I focus on the fears and I let them float away. I picture them going, their nagging growing distant until silenced.
I feel empty without them. I study Anza and wonder what she sees. My face is slack, emotionless. I let the muscles release and the doubts go, after all.
“I don’t want to go,” I manage to say. My voice is flat, monotone.
“You need this, Peony,” Anza says, certain. “You may have physically escaped The Compound, but mentally you’re still there.
I take the proffered jacket and pull it on.
-
We follow the arch line towards the sun. I keep my eyes intent on Eli’s feet, blocking out the light as best I can. Around midday we turn north, eating rations as we walk.
The town was rebuilt from what once was, one of the few that chose that option. An old rusted sign from the arch line hangs at the entrance, proclaiming the town’s name in repainted letters: Spring Creek. We circle the town to the side, choosing not to take the front entrance.
“We’ll meet back here after the rally,” Eli begins. “I want everyone with a partner. Your job is to blend in and stand guard. If any talists are in danger, we’ll step in.”
The others nod and begin to buddy up, heading into town in different directions.
When there’s just me, Solar, Eli, and one other girl, Eli hesitates.
“Can you handle this?” he asks, eyes intent on Solar. Solar glowers back at him.
What does he mean? Why wouldn’t Solar be alright?
Eli doesn’t back down until Solar lowers his gaze and nods. “Aeroue, you’re with me.” He looks from me to Solar. “Don’t do anything stupid.” I watch him and the girl skirt a building and slide into the crowd.
When I look back, Solar is studying me. He almost looks sad. Then he shakes his head and the moment is gone. I follow him closely into town, unsure where we are supposed to go. We end up in the center of town, to the side of a small stage that must have recently been erected.
“What are we waiting for?” I ask.
“The Guardia. They can’t risk anyone helping us and they want to control public opinion.” He doesn’t face me, but at least he answered.
“How?”
“Watch,” he answers, motioning as a soldier takes the stage. Others surround the stage and fill the crowd. Voices go silent so that he can be heard.
“Good evening, everyone,” he greets, his voice resounding. “We are here today to alert you to a very real threat to Spring Creek and Trinity. As you know, we maintain a compound to contain and exterminate mutated individuals in our society.
“A fortnight ago, a terrorist from within The Compound created an explosion that helped a great number of those elementalists escape.” The crowd around us gasps collectively, murmurs picking up as they wonder at their safety.
“He’s calling you a terrorist?” I ask.
“Trinity needs your help,” he commands, voice booming.
Solar’s hands tighten into fists and his jaw clenches. I want to reach out and take his hand. I want to reassure him but, when I try, my body won’t budge.
“If you see or hear of a mutant here, you must turn them in. Do not help them. They already destroyed The Compound; don’t let them take down Trinity!”
Solar runs forward, parting the crowd. “Why do you think we did?” he shouts. A flame sparks up in his left hand. “We aren’t mutants, and we are tired of being treated like it!”
“Fuck!” Eli shouts off to my right as guards encircle Solar. He turns around, realizing he’s trapped, and throws his flame to the ground.
Everyone around me seems fluid, moving in waves, and I am the rigid stone, unable to budge. I feel the air change, shift almost, and I look to my left. I see a woman running against the current, pushing towards Solar.
She stops and seems to scoop the air up in her arms, holding it close before pushing it directly at Solar. His flames turn to smoke as though they had been atop a single candle and the guards topple. The woman runs in, pulls him up and drags him the way she came.
I follow.
She is different, I begin to notice. Her clothes are all leather, a mismatch of colors and textures taken from different animals. Her hair is white blonde—not golden—and pulled back into a ponytail. She is about function and need, not aesthetics. She is also much older than the average Compound Talist. Why is she here now?
She turns a corner, a sharp right behind a building. I run to keep up, almost tripping over them when I make the turn.
“Where is the meeting spot?” she asks.
Do I trust her? She just saved Solar, but her vice grip on his arm makes me hesitate.
—Where is the meeting spot?
She asks this again, now sending the question the way Anza does. My mind conjures a view of the place and I look around, lost now and unsure how to get back.
“This way,” she says, starting off again with Solar in tow.
I never answered her.
Was she able to see what I envisioned?
I run to catch up.
7
Gray
If I set aside that I’m being trained to be a human shield to save people that slaughtered my family and took me captive, I am almost excited to start training after two weeks stuck in the clinic. I focus on the fact that I will be able to do again. Maybe if I can ignore the rest of it, I’ll be able to make the best of the situation.
“This is Gray, the final member of your team,” the soldier states. He had shown up in the clinic before Leanna had even opened the blinds, ordered me to get dressed in the provided uniform, and led me through the maze of hallways to yet another courtyard—this one, obviously, meant for training.
I study my supposed team as they study me. On the left stands a stout man with pale skin and brown fuzz around his chin, smirking at the soldier who brought me. A willowy woman with perfect posture stands to his right; her nearly black hair is pulled back into a precise ponytail. Next to her, a shorter woman offers a welcoming smile. The man closest to me looks downwards and it takes a moment for me to realize that his eyes are boring into my Terra symbol. I fight the urge to shift my arm and hide it; I will not cower to anyone.
“If you’d like, soldado, we can recycle your whole team. It seems you’ve failed to master taking orders,” the soldier who brought me here retorts.
The woman’s tawny skin blanches and she shifts her gaze behind him, standing once again at attention. “That won’t be necessary, Cabo.” He lingers another minute, watching her for signs of disrespect, before turning back towards the building.
“I’m Emi,” says the woman who smiled at me once the soldier who brought me was out of sight. She motions to the others from left to right. “That’s Welorian, Cataleya, and Jasper.” Her gaze lingers on the latter, brow furrowed when she spots his hard stare. “What?”
“He’s not a part of our team as far as I’m concerned,” he answers her, though his eyes are focused on mine.
“Not your choice, bro,” Welorian tells Jasper.
“It’s not right that he just gets to skip the first week of training,” Cataleya reaffirms. Her back is upright, straight as an arrow, with her shoulders squared in confrontation. Everything about her is just so and I don’t doubt she put a lot of effort into that.
Emi motions to my tattoo, the second to notice. “It looks like he’s already been broken in.”
“That doesn’t matter. It isn’t fair,” Cataleya responds, terse.
She wants to talk to me about fair?
Welorian winks at me, a sly grin on his face. “Don’t worry, Catt. We’ll make sure he is on equal footing in this team.”
Jasper stands back without adding anything more to the conversation. His face is now devoid of any readable expression, his eyes fixed on me but almost looking through me. I push my lips together and hold my breath; out of all of them, he’s the one I need to worry about.
“Let’s begin with The Wall,” someone shouts from the center, his voice grabbing everyone’s attention immediately.
“Fall in!” At once everyone moves, finding their pre-assigned spots. Do I follow my team or wait? I don’t want to accidentally take someone else’s place.
“Why aren’t you moving, soldado?” the man shouts before I can decide.
“I’m not sure,” I gape.
“Sir,” he states.
When I don’t respond, he continues. “Stand tall. Your weight should be distributed equally on the heels and balls of your feet.”
I glance at the others, all standing exactly the same way, staring forward. I comply with his directions, mimicking the others as precisely as possible. I realize when he steps in front of me, no hatred on his face, that I responded out of fear-inspired habit, as though I were back at The Compound and a misstep would mean my death. Though, that almost happened anyways without any mistake on my part.
“When in Attention, you must look straight ahead at all times. Your eyes cannot track me.” He holds his pointer and middle finger up in front of my eyes to demonstrate, then moves back and forth.
“Good. Why are you in my training room without a clue on Week 2?” he asks, incredulous.
“I was in the clinic,” I respond. He waits, as though I am still speaking. Realizing my mistake, I conclude, “sir.”
“Have you been assigned an escuadra?”
“A team? Yes, sir.”
“Show me, soldado.”
Keeping my stance as similar to how Sir had me stand as possible, I walk to the right side of the group and motion towards Welorian, Cataleya, Emi, and Jasper. Their eyes remain fixated forward.
“Your name, soldado?”
“Gray, sir.”
“And your last name?”
Last name? I’ve never had one. My mom and Barley dropped theirs when they built Haven, both because they were starting fresh and to protect their families if they were ever caught. I don’t even know what theirs used to be. But Sir wants an answer and I don’t want to get into all of that…
“Haven, sir.”
“Haven, for now stand in front of Soldado Dell.” The only spot for me is in front of Jasper; is his last name Dell?
“Up front, sir?” I ask, but Sir is already assuming his position at the front. I step in front of Jasper, the only person in my own row, and carefully ensure my stance is perfect. I can feel Jasper’s glare boring into the back of my head.
“Forward, march!” Sir directs. Moving my eyes only, I look to see the first column marching through a door to the side—different from the one I entered. I look forward again, waiting as the next three columns join the first. Sir motions when it is my turn and I follow, matching the cadence of the soldier ahead of me.
This hallway is different than the rest here in Rockwall. Doors line the walls, regularly spaced, and the only windows are small, thin strips along the very top. At the end, a guard holds a door open to the outside.
Another Sir waits at a towering wall connecting the outside wall with the building, splitting the procession into teams, evenly spaced along the wall.
“Your objective,” the second Sir begins once everyone is in position and at attention, “is to get all five members of your escuadra to the top of the wall first. A rope awaits you at the top. You will have to work together to succeed.”
I look up and see the circles of rope at the top in front of each team. How are we supposed to reach them? The wall is easily twenty feet tall and smooth with no hand or footholds.
“Begin!”
The others step forward around me, looking up as I did. “Any ideas?” Welorian asks, a smirk on his face.
“If we had axes we could chisel some grips in,” Jasper offers.
“Judging by the current lack of gashes in the wall and the fact that they have no doubt run this exercise before, I doubt that is the desired approach,” Catt answers, bobbing her head back and forth as though weighing the suggestion.
Jasper sighs, running his hands through his short cropped hair.
“The other groups are lifting each other up,” Emi says. We all look over at the group to our right, almost to the pinnacle. One stands at the bottom, holding a second, who holds a third.
“Step onto my hands,” the middle member calls upwards and the top soldier obeys, carefully stepping onto his hands one at a time. Then, as their tower begins to wobble, he bends his knees and propels the top soldier up. Emi gasps as he grasps hold of the rope at the last second, crashing back down onto the ground with the others, the rope—unattached at the top—still in hand.
They didn’t tie the ropes off for us; there won’t be any luck involved in this.
“We can throw the mutant up there,” Jasper says, offhand. He glances down at my symbol. “What element does that even stand for? It’s got to have some sort of protection to keep from killing him, right? Worse case, he’s back in the clinic.” He turns and smirks at me. “Or is that best case?”
Truthfully, I could win this for them with my element. For them, or for us? I’m not sure I should include myself there yet. One of my Terra strengths is shapeshifting, particularly as a raven. I could easily shift, fly up there, shift back, and tie the rope off for them to climb. I don’t think anybody at The Compound was as trained in their element as I am, coming from Haven.
I could win this for them but, because they’ve made it clear I’m unwelcome, I don’t see the need to call attention to my capabilities.
“We need to do this right,” Catt says, firm. “That group had the right idea; they just didn’t execute it well. If we have Jasper and Welorian on the bottom holding up me and Gray, then Gray and I can support and lift Emi.”
Welorian and Emi agree readily, but Jasper just grunts. Regardless, the other two boys step forward. Catt directs them to stand closer and then Welorian kneels and she steps onto his shoulders.
“Come on, Gray,” she hollers back
to me, intending that I allow Jasper—the one that just joked about sending me back to the clinic—to lift me up. I tighten my jaw and step forward, keeping my head down as I step onto Jasper’s shoulders. As Emi steps up, one foot on Welorian’s right shoulder and one on Jasper’s left, Catt squats down and holds out her hand, motioning for me to do the same.
Sir walks over to watch.
Emi braces herself on our shoulders and lifts her feet into our hands one at a time, resting in a crouch. Following Catt’s instructions, I feel Jasper’s hands tighten around my legs and he and Welorian stand, lifting Catt, Emi, and I up. Emi moves her hands from our shoulders, finding her balance, and we carefully lift her higher. I watch her stand, still a couple feet from the top.
“It’s not enough,” Catt says, exasperated. “Can you two lift Gray and me up in your hands, too?”
Jasper lets go of my legs, instead holding them into two footholds. Copying Catt’s movements exactly, I step from his shoulders to his hands and Welorian and Jasper lift us higher. I hear Jasper grunt and the hold on my feet falters. Emi is almost to the top and I kneel down and spring up so that she can grip the edge before I fall.
I keep my eyes on the others, feeling my skin harden to protect me.
“Step right!” Catt shouts to Welorian and he obeys instantly. She deftly swaps Emi’s left foot to her left hand and reaches out to grab Emi’s dangling right foot, supporting both well enough for Emi to pull herself up and over the top edge.
“What do you think you’re doing, soldado?” Sir roars and I turn instantly, scared his fury is directed at me. He’s in Jasper’s face, staring him down, and the boy straightens into attention.
“I lost my grip, sir,” he responds.
“No, boy, you did not. You chose to let go, risking the safety of your team!”
Jasper does not respond for a long minute and I barely hear him when he does, despite the venom in his voice. “He’s a Talist, sir. He isn’t part of my team.”
Sir’s eyebrows pull in together and he stands tall, staring Jasper down. “He is your team, Dell, whether you like it or not. Despite your sabotage, he helped the team succeed. You are the one that is not acting like a member of the team.”
Rush of Blood Page 3