Emergence (Eden's Root Trilogy Book 3)

by Rachel Fisher

  “I have to say, girls, the whole ‘business on top, party on the bottom’ look you’re rocking right now is pretty entertaining.”

  “You’re hilarious,” Fi replied, unbuttoning her shirt. “Time to spar, Sar?”

  “Yup. I’m on it.”

  Sara had already slipped out of her button-down, revealing the black dri-fit shirt beneath. Now we really look like ninjas, Fi thought, energized. It gave her appreciation for the new raven curls she was sporting. They’d dyed her hair the day before. It was partly to make her look more like Sara’s sister and partly to conceal her identity, in case Carter had ever seen their wedding video, which fortunately did not include any clear shots of Sara.

  At first Fi was startled by the dark mass of curls every time she bent over a stream to drink. But now she felt kinda…stealth.

  “Now the real fun starts,” Marcus said, triggering another wave of laughter.

  Fi flushed. She’d still hadn’t gotten used to everyone watching them train. But there was no privacy in the Army, she guessed, so she just tried to ignore it. Frankly, it was good practice to have distractions while she sparred. Real fights always had distractions.

  Sara cracked her fingers and rolled her neck. “You ready?”

  “I was born ready, Sar.” Fi sank into her fighting stance, feeling the joy of physicality ripple through her. She was still weak and slow, but with each session she grew stronger. They circled each other, ignoring the occasional whistles and catcalls. Sara struck first, testing the distance with a left jab that caught air as Fi side-stepped it. “Careful,” Fi warned. “You don’t want the shiner I’d give you if you tried that again.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I do all the fighting and you do all the talking. Is that it, Fi?”

  Taking the bait, Fi launched forward with a kick-jab combination that caught Sara’s shoulder as she moved to block it. Their audience “ooooohed” and Sara glared at her.

  “What?” Fi bounced gleefully. “Done fighting so soon?”

  Fi went in with another quick jab-hook. Sara blocked both and landed a solid punch to Fi’s gut that left her gasping. This time Sara grinned, enjoying the gasps she’d earned. Fi backed away, sucking the tiny bits of air that her shocked diaphragm would allow. “Good hit,” she croaked.

  If this had been a friendly fight to pass the time, that might have been it. But this wasn’t that type of fight. This was training. For a real fight…a fight to the death. So despite her lack of oxygen and aching gut, Fi held her ground and circled her friend. Speed, Fi. Remember your speed.

  Fi leapt at Sara and then spun behind her and kicked backward, landing a solid thump to Sara’s back that sent her sprawling.

  Sara scrambled to her feet, flustered. “Jeez, Fi! You’re still fast, for a little thing.”

  Fi swallowed her pride. Sara was baiting her again, but this time she wasn’t going to take it. They traded a few more swift blows and were tiring when Sara went for the kill. Her whirling roundhouse nearly connected with Fi’s head, but the leg sweep that followed when Fi ducked is what took her to the ground.

  “Ooof!” Fi grunted as Sara threw herself on top of her. Then Sara’s arms and legs were on all sides like the God of Shiva and Fi was rolling, being flipped onto her back in the snow. Sara pinned her arm, pulling it back painfully, while her legs wound through Fi’s like a vise. The more Fi struggled, the tighter her prison became.

  “Do you give?” Sara panted as she held against Fi’s straining limbs. “C’mon, give, Fi. Don’t make me dislocate your shoulder.”

  Fi went limp. “All right. I give.”

  Sara released her and they helped each other up, dusting the dry snow off their clothes. There was applause from their audience as Sara curtseyed and blew kisses. Hannah Lemly clapped, her blue-moon eyes wide.

  Fi rubbed her neck. “Ow, Sara. What the hell was that? Some Krav Maga shit?”

  Sara shrugged. “I kinda liked MMA when I was a kid.”

  “Remind me again why I’m your friend, you freak?” Fi fingered her elbow gingerly. “I think you broke my elbow.”

  “Fi, you almost kicked me onto my face, and my spleen feels like it exploded. You’ll be fine. I’ll give you a massage later, ok?”

  “As if rolling around on the ground together wasn’t enough,” Sean grinned.

  “Don’t be a pervert, Sean,” Sara retorted.

  “What? I know I’m your boyfriend, but I’m still a guy. That was kinda…”

  “Don’t!” Fi said, glaring at him.

  Sean turned to Asher, who stood leaning against a nearby tree. “No, really… two pretty girls in skin tight black clothing, kicking each other’s ass. Am I wrong, Ash?”

  “Unh, unh, Sean. I know better than to touch that with a ten-foot pole.”

  Fi punched Sean in the side as she pulled on her button-down shirt. “Good! At least one of you has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself.”

  “Yeah!” Sara added. “Just for that, it’s button-downs only for you tonight, mister.”

  Sean made a face. “Yeah. Like nookie makes it on to the to-do list out here, Sara.”

  Everyone burst out laughing.

  “Nookie?” Fi gasped, clutching her stomach as Sara and Sean turned to twin towers of crimson. “Nookie?”

  Sean’s face twisted. “What? What the hell do you want me to call it?”

  When several Army members joined the laughter, Sean stomped off. Sara followed him, doing her best to paste a serious look on her face while Fi and Asher doubled over, gasping.

  Fi’s face and stomach ached and she struggled for breath, but it felt good. She sagged against Asher as her laughter slowed. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaah, God. I don’t think I’ve laughed like this since…” How long had it been? She searched her memory, but it kept running into a grey haze right around Luke’s birth. The ache in her gut shifted. “I don’t remember.”

  Asher tugged at her chin until she met his gaze. He smiled — the kind of smile that was tattered a bit, at the edges. Her heart squeezed with the knowledge that many of those tatters were her fault. Her breakdown after Luke. Her volunteering to go undercover. Her insane need to get to Kiara. All my fault.

  He ran his hands along her jaw and tucked her short black curls behind her ears. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. What matters is that you found your laugh again.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and melted into him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “You know, you’re really good at that.”

  “What?”

  “Saying exactly the right thing.”

  “Hmmm.” He was silent for a second, and then, “Nope. No. There’s no way. I can’t live up to that. I’m already going to break it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His voice grew merry. “Unless you think the next thing I was going to say is exactly the right thing.”

  “What’s the next thing you were going to say?”

  “I was going to ask if you thought Sean would object to me calling him ‘Nook’ from now on.”

  She laughed so hard she nearly broke in two. As usual, Asher was right. It didn’t matter how long it had been. In the midst of hell, she’d found her laugh again, and that was all that mattered. Good luck to you, Truthers, she thought, enjoying the superiority of it. Because my friends and I are going to kick your ass. Asses. Sheesh. She couldn’t even threaten someone without thinking about grammar.

  Surprises

  --------- Fi ---------

  Cold rain pounded the roof of the Wal-Mart. Sleeping bags stuffed with the resting Army of Eden lined the aisles in haphazard clusters. Though the store had been heavily looted, they’d found a handful of metal garden tubs, lending the beauty of fire to their shelter. The makeshift fire pits were too small to create any real heat, but a little light was always heartening.

  Of course, anything would’ve been better than a second more in that freezing slop, Fi thought. There was nothing like the combo of snow and thunderstorms to make progress
an unbearable misery. The first time she’d trudged through a late spring blizzard with the Family, she’d been totally freaked out when thunder clapped overhead. They’d been marching all night and she’d panicked, thinking she was sleepwalking...or losing her mind. But when everyone else jumped at the lightning her brain kicked back in and she told them all to hit the deck. They’d crawled behind some rocks that made it seem like they were sheltered from the lightning, though they weren’t.

  She never forgot it — how the snow came so fast that it was slapping down in whole coats at a time. The Family had huddled together for warmth while the men took turns digging them out of the deepening snow. It was twelve grueling hours before that storm blew itself out. And in the end, the rocks had saved them, by shoring up a break in the drifts. Otherwise they might have been buried, despite the men’s best efforts.

  She shivered. It wasn’t her favorite memory. Her feet tapped against the floor anxiously as she sat in the café booth. She’d come here for a moment of comfort away from the press of the Army. It brought back happier memories of shopping with her mother, Maggie. Well, tagging along really, she’d been so small. Maggie always found it the height of amusement that at five Fi enjoyed her pretzels with a healthy layer of spicy mustard, but it was still her favorite condiment.

  Or it would be, she thought, if it still existed. After the Famine she’d found it rather a shame that there were so many packets of yellow mustard and no spicy pretzel mustard. Her stomach growled. Gotta think about something else.

  Unfortunately, every time she let her mind wander, it would creep its way back to the looming reality. They were only a half-day’s hike from Camp Truth. Even though this rain-sleet-snowfall crap would make for a hard, muddy trek tomorrow, it wouldn’t stop them. No matter what happened, she and Sara would begin their counterattack on the Truthers. And so it begins, she thought, for the millionth time that day.

  “Um, Fi?”

  She turned to see a familiar face. Hannah Lemly. Of course. The girl had been like a reverse shadow for a week now. Reverse because there was nothing dark about her. It was like being followed by Tinkerbell. Fi wouldn’t have been shocked to see a set of iridescent wings sprout from the girl’s back.

  “What can I do for you, Hannah?”

  She tugged at her fleece hat. “I have a question.”

  “Ok. Go ahead, shoot. You have my undivided attention.”

  “You know I said I read Mr. Asher’s book.”

  “Of course.”

  “So I know that you were only fourteen when you started training to be a warrior.”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “So, I’m fourteen and I really want to learn. Can I start training?”

  Fi choked, and then tried to cover it with a cough when she saw that Hannah’s mittens had balled into fists. Tiny, tiny fists. Crap. She wants to fight?

  “That’s a tough question, Hannah. First of all, I’m not your moth…” Her voice trailed off as Hannah’s face tightened. Double crap. Fi’s heart sank. How could she have forgotten that Hannah Lemly didn’t have any family? “Sorry.”

  Hannah looked away and shrugged. “That’s ok. So what? My mom’s dead. She got sick during the Famine and we didn’t have any medicine. Short story.”

  “No, Hannah, I should’ve remembered and been more sensitive.”

  “That’s ok,” she lifted her chin. “You were tough anyway, when you lost Maggie.”

  Pain shot through Fi like lightning. She’d never heard anyone say her mother’s name like that. Not a stranger. Not someone who’d only read about her. To have this girl know her—to draw comfort from her story—it was hard. She didn’t wish her story on anyone.

  She cleared her throat. “Ah, yes. That’s true. But it was very hard, and I still found time to cry.” She gestured for Hannah to take a seat. “So why do you want to start training?”

  Hannah was silent for a moment and then slid in next to her. “I saw something.”

  Ah. “I see. And it made you want to be stronger? Tougher?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why did it make you feel that way?”

  Hannah’s face twisted, her nearly invisible brows turning white against her reddened face. “Because I could’ve done something about it.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, Fi still reeling from this revelation. She was pretty sure that not even Jonas knew what this little medic really wanted. She wants to fight back. Torn, Fi studied her. No matter what she might claim about her age, Hannah looked like a baby. But how could Fi turn her down? Wouldn’t she be a hypocrite after raising the banner of “warrior” over herself at the same age? “I’ll tell you what,” she finally said. “I’ll make you a deal. If Asher can find the time, I’ll ask him to start your training.”

  Hannah’s lips twitched. “Do you think that maybe I can also train with Miss Sara someday?”

  “Sara? Are you serious?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “Uh, sure, maybe. I’ll have to check with her. But you’ve watched us enough to know that Sara doesn’t play nice. She won’t care that you’re small or new. She’ll push you. And she’ll hit you. And believe me, it will hurt.”

  “Yes! Yes! Oh, that’s ok, yes!” Hannah fist-pumped.

  “But you have to make me a promise.”

  “Anything!”

  “You have to promise to stay OUT of the coming battle. And I mean not going near the battlefield at all. Not as a water-girl, or a medic, or anything. You can support the team from the medical tents, but no battlefield. Do you hear me? I don’t want you to think a couple weeks of starter training will make you ready for something like that.”

  A frown ghosted across Hannah’s face, but she held out her mitten. “Deal.”

  “I mean it,” Fi said sternly, as she shook her hand. “This battle is going to be a million times worse than anything that I’ve ever faced. This isn’t a fistfight with a drunk…”

  “…or a gang-fight in a basement grocery store,” Hannah chirped.

  Good Lord. The kid had memorized Asher’s book. “That’s right,” Fi said. “I almost died that day…and others since. And speaking as a somewhat experienced warrior to an aspiring warrior, I’ll tell it to you straight. What we’re planning to do next scares me to death.”

  “Ahem.”

  They turned. Asher was standing on the other side of the café wall, a strange expression on his face.

  “Ash.” Fi smiled. “Perfect timing. I’d like you to meet your newest trainee.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You want to start training, Hannah?”

  “I told her she could only train with you if she promised to stay out of the battle completely.” Fi turned to Hannah and summoned her sternest expression. “And she agreed.”

  Asher pushed out his chin like he was impressed and bowed. “As you wish. We’ll begin when the weather improves.”

  Hannah jumped up, clapping her mittens together and then stopped and bowed her head. Fi’s heart squeezed as she was reminded of a six-year-old Kiara, bowing to Asher in a clearing in the woods.

  “Thank you so much,” Hannah breathed, “I can’t wait.”

  Asher took Fi’s hand. “Now, I’m sorry, Hannah, but I have to steal her away.”

  Fi followed him, her hand still clutched in his, as he wound behind the counter of the café and through a back door. “Can you believe that little Hannah wants to train? And,” she added, “this is the best part…she wants to train with Sara, of all things.” He turned them down another, darkened hallway. Wait, where was he taking her? “Hey, Ash. Where’s Luke?”

  “He’s with Sara.” He grinned over his shoulder. “Of all things.”

  “And where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. I found something for us.”

  They wound around another corner and he led her into a small office. It had been ransacked and picked over and now boasted only a single desk and chair buried beneath a snowfall of brittle paper. Asher closed t
he door behind them and pulled the blinds.

  Fi blinked against the utter darkness. There was a click as Asher locked the door. A match flamed and he pulled a tiny, jarred candle from his pocket and lit it. He handed it to her and grabbed a blanket she hadn’t noticed in the dim light, spreading it on the floor. He took back the candle and set it beside the blanket. Pausing, he ran his hand through his long, loose hair.

  “Ash, what is this? What did you find?”

  He stood, his blue eyes burning like the candle.

  “I found us some privacy, Fi.”

  Oh. Her heart stuttered a little and she suppressed a giggle. He stepped forward and pulled her to him, sliding his gloved hands into her back pockets. She unzipped his jacket and slid her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest. He smelled, as he always did, of soft, sun-warmed cotton. “Mmmm. You’re so warm. But…” She lifted an eyebrow. “…Here?”

  His lips curled as he leaned down and kissed her, softly at first. It was a sweet and delicious “pretty please.” She tasted him, savoring his textures. The smooth curve of his bottom lip, the grit of his scruff, the silken whispers of his hair as it cascaded over them both. Hungry, she parted his lips and deepened their kiss. His breathing grew heavier, coming in erratic bursts as his fingers dug into her hips, cinching her against him. She broke away, gasping, “All right. You win.”

  The race was on as they both began tearing off their winter gear. Her shoes clanged against the desk as she kicked them off. She looked up just as her husband ripped off his shirt and she froze. The light wavered, lapping over each knot of muscle. Her mind flew back and she was a girl again, standing in her underpants with a bar of soap, shocked by the sight of a man pulling himself from the bath. A man who’d riveted her as he did now, with the light dancing over his skin. It was the moment she’d understood the difference between teenaged fantasy and full-on, grown-up lust. She swallowed. “I was wrong.”

  “What?” He was mid-sock-removal and had just noticed her eying him.