Reactive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  My body jerked upright where it was propped against the base of a tree. All movement stopped. Lashes fluttering, I scanned my surroundings and promptly bent over, dry-heaving. When the nausea eased, I straightened again, blinking stupidly at the sight before me. I hadn’t moved an inch. My back was still pressed to the tree I’d chosen to rest against not moments before. I checked my watch. No time had passed. I hadn’t been sucked into the future after all.

  Then what had just happened? I began walking again, subconsciously correcting my course to a northerly route. My senses quivered with the knowledge that the monster I’d glimpsed was in that direction. Still, I plowed forward without hesitation. One thing I’d learned over the years: always listen to your gut. And right now, my gut was chattering like a crazed squirrel.

  Five minutes later, my hair stood on end. The monster was close. Every last inch of me knew it. Come out, come out wherever you are, you big ugly thing. And then a roar shook the world. Trees swayed, rain gusted, the very ground trembled at the horrific sound. My confidence shrunk to pea-sized proportions. Help. But I was on my own. I’d abandoned the only person brave enough to stand by my side. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I realized I hadn’t moved, cementing myself in place. There was a second of utter silence, when not even the wind dared breathe, and then . . .

  Pandemonium.

  There was shouting that sounded too much like Bren. Another roar that was far too close. Twigs snapped, leaves crunched, trees cracked as something big, something huge barreled through the woods, heading straight for me. I hated being right. One thing was for certain: this rampaging beast was more terrifying than anything I’d ever faced before. And the best place to face it was from above.

  I picked the nearest tree with low branches, knowing the monster would find me on its own. Bren was right. The animals seemed to sense when I was near and, for some reason, it drove them mad. Lucky me. I was a good fifteen feet off the ground when a bright red streak dashed for my tree. Pausing in my climb, I gaped as the fifth contender launched himself at a low-hanging branch and scrambled up after me.

  My hand frantically waved at him. “No, get away!” I whisper-yelled.

  But he wasn’t listening. This was bad. This was bad for both of us. The monster was almost here, tearing through the woods with a ferocity that stole my breath. It wanted me, and this redhead was going to complicate matters, either dying or getting me killed because of his idiotic choice in trees. He reached my perch and stopped, inches away. Winded, he raised a finger in a “give me a second” gesture.

  And in that second, the monster exploded into view, its roar booming like thunder. My eardrums rang and I stared, slack-jawed, as the animal—half bear, half enormous freak of nature—rose onto its hind legs. Up, up, up, ten feet . . . fifteen. Those soulless eyes leveled with mine.

  Holy mother of—

  “I have a message for you,” the redhead said. What was he talking about? We should be climbing, not socializing!

  “From who?” My lips barely moved. A whisper of wind.

  “Wrong question.”

  My gaze finally flicked to him, just as his fist crashed into my jaw. White bursts of light robbed my sight, so when he wrenched on my arm, I wasn’t prepared. The sensation of falling—something I normally craved—was the most horrific feeling I’d ever felt. My nails clawed at porous tree bark, bending and breaking in their attempt to keep me aloft. I slid, one foot, then two, my arms and legs clamping around the trunk until I sputtered to a halt.

  Before I could catch my breath, my assailant was beside me once more, arm reared back for another blow. Instinctively, my muscles locked, but my gut told me I would fall this time. Fall and hit the ground where the monster would disembowel me. With nothing left to lose, I sucked in air and loosed a shrill scream. The redhead paused. The monster paused.

  The world paused as I finished emptying my lungs.

  Then the tree shook as the freak of nature charged toward us. The redhead ditched me in favor of saving his life, shimmying up the tree. I was too low, easily within paw-swiping range. The chances of reaching safety in time were slim, but I moved my body faster than it ever had before, grasping, pulling, swinging. Higher, I needed to get higher!

  A shockwave struck the tree. It vibrated the trunk and rattled my very bones. I gasped and clung to a wobbling branch, stomach lurching. Don’t look down, don’t look down. I looked. The monster-bear was peering up at me so intensely, I felt my bladder loosen. No, no, no, do not pee right now. Animals are attracted to pee!

  A paw swiped at my feet and I tucked my knees to my chest, hoping the branch was sturdy enough to hold my weight. The monster lowered to all fours, retreated a step, then another, until it quietly stood a few yards away. My feet found purchase again, fingers fumbling for my bow. Now was the perfect time to—

  Several tons of ultimate predator rushed the tree. The impact was ear-splitting. No, the tree was splintering under the assault. Holy crap, it was going to knock the tree down. The freak bear backed up for another pass and a green arrow whizzed past my head, sinking into the monster’s shoulder. I glared up at the redhead. Had that arrow been intended for me? The bellow from below was ravenous. Chills prickled my flesh, but I almost leapt out of my skin when that monstrous beast decided it could defy gravity.

  Claws longer than fingers gouged the tree’s bark, and the scariest thing I had ever seen began climbing. My eyes didn’t want to believe what they were witnessing. Nothing this big should be able to scale a vertical obstacle. It wasn’t possible. But it was happening. The tree shook and I nearly lost my grip as I inched upward, closer to the homicidal contender. Was I safer with the idiot or the bear?

  The animal chuffed, like it was inhaling my irresistible scent. I took my chances with the idiot. He had stopped, the thin branches at the top unable to support his weight. When I neared his position, he swung a boot for my face. Really? I was so done with this. At the next kick, I captured his ankle and gave a sharp tug. I’d only meant for the action to warn him, so he’d cease his ridiculous antics. But he lost his grip—or maybe the branch snapped. I would never know. It all happened so fast.

  With a sharp cry, he plummeted. His body smacked into countless tree limbs as he inevitably lost to gravity. I was a good twenty-five feet off the ground, so when he landed, the noise was muffled. I could almost pretend he had made it down with just a few bruises instead of instant death.

  Bile raced up my throat. I shouldn’t have looked. His leg was on backwards. Oh stars, what had I done? I’d just, I’d just . . .

  My horror amplified at the sound of crackling. Were the woods on fire? Deep groans joined the cacophony and my world tipped ever so slightly to the left. My head spun as I stared at the forest floor a million miles away. The tree was breaking. Literally breaking in half as the bear continued to inch toward me. Unable to hold the weight, the trunk snapped like a twig, my haven now a death trap. If I jumped, the fall would kill me; if I climbed down, the monster would kill me. The world was tilting, tilting, tilting.

  The sound of tearing wood was a continuous peal of thunder as the tree picked up speed in its descent. Then I spotted a third option and made a split-second decision. I ground my teeth together, holding my position.

  Wait.

  Not yet.

  Now!

  Bending my knees, I sprang into dead air. But my aim wasn’t downward—it was across. The broken tree housing the bear hurtled past without me as my own destination came up fast. Way too fast. Oh stars. My midsection collided with a neighboring tree branch. I wheezed as all oxygen escaped my body. It felt like someone had cut me in half. In that moment, I could sympathize with the felled tree.

  A jarring thud rocked the forest floor, and I peered through leaves and limbs, hoping against all hope that the monster had been crushed by the tree. I didn’t even care if that meant one less kill for me, because right then, all I wanted was to stay alive. Maybe I wasn’t quite willing to give up everything for freed
om after all. Maybe some things were more important. Maybe I wanted to live out the day.

  But the mutant creature shook its mangy brown coat, as if falling out of trees were a normal occurrence. My hope of surviving this day dissolved. I was off the ground, yes, but for how long? My ribs and stomach were a mess of blood and bruises, fiery pain my constant companion. Breathing hurt. Blinking hurt. Thinking hurt. Give up now. You’re a failure, Lune Avery. A waste of time. A waste of breath.

  I hung from the branch, defeat crushing my lungs.

  “Hey, Ugly, over here!”

  The words, though shouted, were music to my ears. The sight of Bren emerging from the woods, though covered head-to-toe in blood, was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Give me a break, I’m having a bad hair day,” I shouted back, albeit weakly.

  He glanced at me, eyes scanning my body for injury. “You all right?”

  “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Well, except for the freaky bear. That’s a new one.”

  The animal in question had almost recovered. It watched Bren now, not me. I didn’t know whether to feel relief or panic, so my body decided on a heavy dose of both. “Listen carefully, Lune.” Bren pulled out two arrows, affixing them to his bowstring. “You’ll need to climb down as fast as you can, then run. Run like demons from hell are on your tail. Got it?”

  “Roger that,” I said, earning a grim smile from him. “But Bren? Try not to kill the teddy bear. He’s mine.”

  “I make no promises. I’ll kill him if it means saving your life. I know how you feel about this, but I’m not going to lose you. Not when I finally found you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My throat was too tight. Yes, he was stubborn, but he was trying to save me, yet again. Maybe I did still have hope as long as I had him. So, when he told me to get ready, when he released the arrows and barked for me to go, I obeyed. Adrenaline surged, boosting my speed, but I was shaky, clumsy. The monster thrashed and released a long bellow. Bren’s arrows must have penetrated its thick hide.

  My concentration broke and I all but fell the last eight feet—my bent knees absorbed most of the impact, but agony still shot through my entire body. My muscles tightened as I prepared to bolt, but I hesitated. Just for a second. I threw a look over my shoulder, needing to know where the freak bear was, and that one little look ruined everything.

  On the ground, this close to the animal, I finally realized how big it was. Fear, wave after wave of it, gushed through my veins, and the monster paused. Inhaled. And whirled, onyx eyes rooting me to the spot. Every hair on my body stood on end, but I couldn’t move. Stark terror had me in its clutches.

  “Lune! Run!”

  I’d never heard him sound so afraid. That fear reanimated my limbs—gave me purpose, gave me strength—when it should have had the opposite effect. But Bren made me feel things and do things I never would have done on my own. And so, I ran like fear had given me wings. Like a desperate girl wanting a few more seconds of life, even if those seconds were inside a cage.

  I weaved through trees and jumped over bushes, blazing a confusing path. How smart was this beast? How fast? My chest was scorching fire as air sawed in and out of my lungs, the stitch in my side like a hand twisting my intestines. I started to limp, but I couldn’t stop or spare a second. Deep in my gut, I knew that if I dared to peek over my shoulder or slow down in the slightest, I was dead.

  Something bright caught my eye. It winked at me, beckoning. Metal sounded safe right about now. If I could only get there. The monster’s presence was all around me, its grunts and heavy tread faster than my own breaths and unsteady footfalls. I was out of time. So, when the rusted car came into view, it was my salvation. I raced toward it, scared senseless that the doors would be locked.

  If they were . . .

  My body slammed into metal, then bounced off. I lurched for the front door handle, wrenching the door open so hard, it hit me on the rebound. But I didn’t feel the hit, too busy scrambling into the front seat. Until an outside force rammed the door and pinned my ankle not yet tucked inside. My bones ground together and I couldn’t breathe.

  A shrill scream shook my frame, nausea a roiling sea in my stomach. With all the desperation I possessed, I kicked, opening the door just enough to free my ankle. The door shut with a crunch. Back and forth, the car rocked, creaking, squealing. Saliva and blood invaded my mouth and I spit onto the floor, the need to vomit overwhelming. I must have bitten my tongue. But my ankle was what worried me. Was it broken?

  And then glass rained down on me, the front windshield now a jagged hole. Through the hole, a paw the size of my head entered. My whole body flattened against the seat as claws scraped along my scalp. Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars, it was going to gouge out my brain. The paw suddenly jerked back, taking several strands of my hair with it.

  I made a dash for the back of the car, shimmying between the front seats, when the monster reached in again, this time snagging my boot. I tried to free myself, kicking and pulling like snared prey, but I was an idiot. Perhaps this had been Renold’s plan all along—the best way to rid himself of a daughter who only brought him disappointment. My body was yanked backward, dragged over glass and then the dashboard. The whole time, my fingers clawed for a handhold, finding and losing them again and again.

  They latched onto the steering wheel with a vengeance; I could feel my body stretched thin. As I held on to my last moments of life, fingers slowly unraveling, I screamed one word. I could have cried anything in that moment, but only one could save me now. Bren. I poured all of me into that word.

  He came like an avenging angel. He swooped in and clobbered the monster’s skull. I felt the vibration, and then I didn’t. Claws unhooked from my boot as the animal wheeled around to face its attacker. Eyes glued to the fight, I slid off the car’s hood and pressed my back to the metal exterior. I couldn’t tear my gaze from Bren as he single-handedly took on a beast twice the size of a charger.

  His bow and arrows hugged his spine, untouched, and my heart skipped a few beats. Was he risking life and limb because of me? Because I had selfishly asked him not to kill the bear? There he was, swinging a stick—more like a small tree, actually—at what could arguably be the top predator on the planet. And here I was, watching. You idiot, do something!

  I stood, unstrapping my bow and three arrows. It wasn’t often I’d practiced shooting with multiple arrows at once, and now I wished I had. There was no way one arrow would take down this leviathan. Maybe not even three arrows. But I shoved doubt aside as I trained my weapon on a patch of muddy fur directly behind its front leg joint, the most vulnerable spot on its body. The heart. That front leg lifted, revealing its weakness, and I would have hesitated, hating to exploit another’s weakness—even an animal’s. But that paw with impossibly long claws was aimed for Bren, ready to deliver a death blow.

  I shot.

  Three gold arrows buried into the heart, and the monster bellowed in surprise and pain. And fury. Its wounds leaked blood but the freak bear was still very much alive. And now swerving toward me. Crap. Two bounding steps and it was practically on top of me. One swat and I was airborne. My back struck the ground several yards away, knocking the wind out of me. I laid there, stunned, not really seeing the angry ash clouds above as I struggled for air.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t even panic at the thought of paralysis. I was just . . . existing. But I could hear every horrible sound: scraping claws, panting, shuffling, a sharp snap of metal . . . Wait. What? I could see the monster now, lumbering my way, and I could do nothing but stare as its head lowered, nose nudging my boot. Ah crap, don’t eat my feet first.

  And then a long silver object wrenched that monstrous head sideways and all I could see was Bren, his tall frame a shield. Legs planted on either side of me, his bare arms rippled as he gripped what looked like a piece of metal torn from the car. “Look at me. Look at me! Not her, you overgrown hamster.”

  I would have laughed at his descriptio
n if I had any breath. He swung at the bear again, landing a hit to the shoulder, and the animal swatted back, raking claws across Bren’s chest. Air leaked into my lungs as a strangled gasp left me. I fought with my numb body. Get up, get up, get up! He needed my help, and here I was, a useless lump yet again.

  “Stay down, Lune,” Bren ordered, taking another swing. I strained even harder. The monster retreated a step and Bren darted behind it, then lunged onto its back. Using the metal object as an arm extension, he wrapped up the animal in a chokehold.

  Now I really wanted to laugh. As the odd pair brawled, I painfully scooted out of trampling range. My body was failing; this needed to end soon. I grasped for my bow but only caught air. Where was it? Now I felt panic. Lots of it. I was nothing without that bow. How would I kill the beast? How would I . . .

  I was going to lose. No, no, no.

  How a mere human could strangle a several ton beast was beyond my comprehension, but sure enough, the animal keened, shaking the ground as it dropped unconscious. Seconds later, Bren skid to a stop at my side. “Where are you hurt? Where—”

  “Bren, my bow. Where is my bow?” I tried to rise and he helped me into a sitting position.

  “It’s broken. I’m sorry,” he said. My heart plummeted. He unslung his compound bow. “Don’t give up hope, little bird. This animal is still yours. Give me two of your arrows.”

  “What? Where—where’s yours?”

  “Gone. I used them all up on the other bear.” He plucked two arrows from my quiver when I failed to do so.

  But I couldn’t move. I was too busy gaping at him. The blood. That would explain why he’d been covered in blood. “There was another?”

  “Yeah, but I killed it. No, don’t look at me that way. They would have both gone after you and I couldn’t let that happen.” His expression was firm, determined, not a single line of remorse. But how could I blame him?

  This was a competition.

  “So . . . so you won then.” I nodded, swallowing roughly. “Go ahead. Take the shot. They’ll know it was you despite the arrow color.”