I’m pulled back again and turn to find Able. He winks at me, his eyes glazed over the scene ahead. Reid bulldozes his way forward, spinning suddenly to his left, then right, throwing off both Clansmen, attempting to dart past.
“Uh…be a sec!” Able dashes by, helping restrain Reid who is nearly colliding with Walker.
“Just asking if she was all right. That’s all.”
“Walker,” Tucker runs up suddenly, pointing. “Head out, man.”
Chief, Jace and Able keep Reid from flying across and using those two murderous fists he’s been itching to use. Walker offers one final glance my way before disappearing into the crowd. Reid goes after him, pulling all three—now four—along with him.
And I feel it again—the obsidian stare cutting into me. My heart picks up as I scan the nearby dancers, taking in the entire scene.
I see him.
Maybe a yard away, Mantis stands solid in a sea of thriving, grinding bodies, his black eyes narrowing on me. He starts to move but suddenly I’m blocked.
Kelly turns, arms crossed over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t have gotten that close. If your boy wasn’t going ape shit right now, the perimeter would’ve been tighter,” he shakes his head, mumbling to himself. “Ah… fuck Walker.”
“Where is he?” I step closer.“Reid?”
“Probably punching the shit out of something.”
Walker? Are they fighting?
“How long does it take him to calm down?”
Kelly shrugs. “Could be a while.”
“Could you walk me back to my room?”
He looks around, desperately hoping to find Reid and the others returning. This wasn’t part of his orders.
“You sure you don’t want to just wait for him?” Kelly’s still searching, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ll wait with you.”
“No. I’m tired. I need to lie down.”
“Um…”
But just as he starts to nod, Reid sweeps through the dancers, the crowd automatically parting for him. Tucker, Able, Chief and Jace follow, obvious exhaustion in their faces. Without even glancing at me, Reid steals my hand, leading me out of the thicket of bodies and toward the closest stairwell. The others leave us at the steps and once we’re in the Courtyard, he sweeps one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me to him in one quick motion. He doesn’t stop walking—doesn’t even slow. One second my feet are on the ground and the next, I’m in the air.
“I’m fine,” I struggle but his arms are solid bars, cradling me into his chest.
After a minute of refusing to let me down, exhaustion takes over and I succumb, melting into the comfort of his arms. He’s focused on an image playing behind his narrowed eyes, his mouth tight, holding it all in. I’m almost afraid to speak, to trigger whatever piece of sanity he’s grasping so I let him carry me upstairs to my room where he places me gently down on the bed, then quickly retreats into the shadows of the opposite corner. A long minute passes.
“You going to tell me what happened back there?”
He looks up, surprised, like he’d forgotten I was in the room with him. “Sorry…” he paces, gnawing the tip of his thumb. “I had to.”
“Had to what?”
But he shakes his head.
“Why?”
He stops pacing and looks at me. “He touched you.”
“But he didn’t—”
“He touched you,” Reid growls. His eyes shift between mine, examining me, reminding himself who he’s talking to. He retreats to the corner of the room again. “He’s lucky I held back.”
“That was holding back?”
He resumes pacing, gnawing on his thumbnail. “If I’d wanted him dead, I would’ve killed him the first time.”
I want to ask about it, to know what exactly happened with Ansley but it’s not the time. There is too much racing around in my head, too much horror to contemplate. I lie back on the bed and curl up in the navy rags, one thought rising above the rest.
“What happened to the girl?”
“Hmm?” he looks up.
“The one from the fight… Did she make it?”
Reid sighs and slowly shakes his head.
I feel like crying, but utter exhaustion takes over, already willing me into a deep coma. “I’m going to sleep.”
Reid nods but makes no attempt to head for the door.
“Are you staying?”
“Just until you fall asleep.”
“You don’t have to…” it comes out a murmur, my lids growing heavy.
“I’m not leaving you after what you saw tonight. Just,” he exhales, “sleep. I’ll leave in a bit.”
“Okay…”
I think he says something after that but I’m too far gone to know for sure.
***
Reid assumes the center position in the overcrowded hovel.
The Rogues, Sampson, Vix, Pratt, Clark and Griffin wait in silence as Reid motions me to the middle with him. When I join him, he clamps his hand in mine, threading our fingers together. “Fallon is leading us.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Clark asks.
“For those of you who have not heard, last night, when Fallon went missing, she was not taken by the Kings as we thought. She left,” he stresses, “she ventured out here—beyond here—and found the truth of what the Dofinikes are doing.”
Everyone’s focus shifts to me, a thousand questions bubbling in their nonplussed gazes. Reid is about to explain further, answering a few of the most obvious questions but I beat him to it, stepping in front of him to address the group.
“I’m sorry to have put you through that. Believe me when I say it wasn’t intentional. But as much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad it happened,” I inhale a large gulp of air. “I needed to find this to tell you. What they’re doing to us—what they’ve done.”
“Which is?” Kelly asks.
“I found everyone who’s been taken. They’re way out past here. Far,” I give it a moment to sink in, so they understand what I’m saying, “where they wouldn’t expect us to go. Where they think we’d never be able to get. But I saw them… and you will too.”
“Well what’d you find?” someone asks. “Are they alive?”
“Are they okay?” another voice pops through.
“What’d you find?” a third voice tries.
“Rogues,” Reid addresses the room and everything falls silent again. “It’s time we move out.”
“Fallon,” Sampson gently asks, “just north of Ellae? How far?”
“About twenty minutes if you’re going slow.” I catch Reid’s grimace next to me. He shuts his eyes, shaking his head, punishing himself for allowing this—allowing me to be out here, all alone and in the dark. I focus on Sampson again, “Which you should. Especially at the forest.”
“Ready to lead the way?” he heads to the door across the way, the Rogues parting for us. He unlatches the wooden door and opens it to the darkness.
“If you’ll light it,” I glance to his babeeb.
Sampson holds his arm out, the golden glowing sphere hovering just above his open palm as we move into the darkness of the tunnel. We’re only underground for a few minutes and take a couple of different tunnels when we come to a wooden stairwell. Sampson leads everyone outside and once he closes the trunk’s door behind us, Reid turns to me.
“Straight ahead?” he asks.
“Where’s Ellae?”
Sampson gestures ahead and to the left. We take off in the direction, following his guide until falling upon the broken city. A few murmurs of excitement, confusion—mostly shock—float behind us as we move in and out of Ellae’s aged walls. It takes about twenty minutes to move past Ellae, to where the lush jungle ends and a great field of monstrously large Banyan-like trees begins.
This is where my stomach gets queasy.
My foot lifts only to drop again, wishing to remain where it is. It doesn’t make sense—on an animalistic level—to return to a scene so unnatural
. I know what I’m walking into. They don’t. It’s easier for them.
“Fallon,” Sampson rests on my shoulder. “Are you alright?”
It’s not the time to chicken out. I made a deal I’d take them and that’s what I plan on doing. Reid takes my hand in his, threading our fingers. This little gesture gives me the last bit of courage I need. Taking a heavy breath and one hesitating step—the first of many—we emerge into the darkened forest, the soft glow of Sampson’s babeeb lighting our path.
He keeps a good pace on my left, his long legs gliding over the roots with easier strides. Pratt is near my right and the Rogues, spread thin just behind her. We come to the tremendous roots and I take caution, climbing over slowly, instructing the others to do the same.
We’ve only passed a few trees when Sampson turns to me, keeping his babeeb outstretched. “Which way?”
“Just a little further,” I veer toward the left, the group following the new direction with fast, furious steps. We’re getting close. But the silence makes me nervous and for a moment, I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. Is it possible it was all in my head—some crazy, brutish nightmare? And if that’s the case, what kind of credibility would I have left? Just as I’m cursing myself for hallucinating the whole thing, an agonized cry rips through the night air, stunning our migration to a halt.
Reid looks to me, searching for confirmation. This is what I heard, right? I nod, moving forward but he keeps me behind him as we go. The others condense around us, the moan ahead growing louder. We step into the first wave and holding my breath, I scan the horrifying scene.
Chapter Twenty-One: Blovid’s Help
At first, you don’t realize what you’re looking at.
I remember now.
You think it’s just another tree, the same as the hundreds you’ve passed… but then they start moving. The body parts. The vacant eyes staring ahead, intently and at nothing. The fingers, wiggling erratically, then hushing to a still, only to spasm again.
“What the…” one of the Rogues mutters as a scream breaks out. I think it’s Pratt. Vix catches her before she hits the floor and turns to Sampson.
“Sympse?” Vix whispers softly, glancing around the lot.
“They’re people,” Able exclaims. “On the trees—they’re people!”
Curses break out, each grasping what’s suddenly at stake. Pratt cups her hand over her mouth, running to vomit outside the lot. I keep her in view—the last thing we need is for someone to go missing out here. Griffin follows in Pratt’s response, falling to his knees and regurgitating near the same patch of skinned floor.
“Gross,” Clark curses under his breath, throwing a glare my way. “You couldn’t tell us this before?”
“You’d believe me?”
“At least we’d have a warning. An idea.”
“To cushion the blow?” I walk deeper into the lot, “You need to be angered,” I clutch my fists, my voice trembling at the word. It’s important they understand this. “I don’t want to take away your anger.”
I scan the faces but the others seem horrified. Frightened. Uncertain. Even if I told them what they were walking into, they’d be just as shocked. What they need is time to absorb it, like I had. Time to wrap their minds around it, to soak in its reality, allowing the one true emotion to surface in its wake—fury.
A soft, aching whimper sails toward us, and Reid and Tucker fly in its direction, trying to locate the source of the voice. They’re searching for only a minute when suddenly, Griffin comes barreling out of nowhere, knocking past them.
“I wone’foget th’marows nest time…”
“Hinson?” he tries, his voice enthralled at the word, “Hinson?”
“…th’marrows nest time…”
“Hinson!” he calls again, confused, searching around frantically, trying to find her. He collides into a tree, pressing his fingers all over the trunk. “Where are you?”
Finally he sees it—the two lips unnaturally separated. He stops, watching them move again, matching the sound to their movement. Her eyes blink emphatically, but can’t see him, staring ahead at nothing.
“Hinson?”
She stops and sniffs, her lips snapping shut. She tries again, chomping down as a ravenous moan escapes.
“Hinson?”
She snaps her lips again, trying to take a bite, a voracious growl escaping.
“What happened?” he yells. “What happened to you?” Tears gush as he falls to his knees, sobbing at the base of the tree. “What happened?”
“You remember her?” I ask just over his shoulder. “You remember Hinson?”
Griffin doesn’t answer, only continues to sob, his hands clobbering his face like giant mitts, hiding it. We’re probably not even here to him right now and so I turn my question to Sampson, confusion in my eyes.
“There’s a loophole, of course—always an out. In case something went wrong. There would have to be a way to retract what was done. In this case, your memories of her. It appears voice recognition is the key.”
“So obvious?” Reid asks.
“Well, you’re not supposed to be out here…” Sampson reminds him, “so…”
“But the others?” Pratt’s back at my side, wiping her mouth clean. “Are they all out here?”
Before I have time to wrap my mind around the gravity of her question, Griffin is on his feet, tugging two of Hinson’s elbows free but getting nowhere. She’s snapping at him but he keeps trying, tears gushing down his face. He pulls so hard that he loses balance and falls backwards onto the skinned floor. He scrambles up but Reid’s at him in an instant, pinning him to the ground.
Then Griffin slams his fist into his jaw.
It’s so sudden that no one expects it, especially not Reid who absorbs the swing fully, rolling to the ground at the mere impact. He’s on his feet again in seconds, as if he’d merely fumbled—as if it’d been a simple error of balance. Griffin tries scrambling up but Tucker, Chief and a few others retrain him. Reid approaches, massaging his jaw.
“I’m not trying to fight you,” he exhales. “No one is.”
Griffin tries breaking free again but Reid signals to the Rogues. They drag him away but he cries out, nearly escaping. He’s tackled and then pinned to the ground again. I glance to Reid.
“Are you okay?” I mouth.
He nods.
Part of me wants to kick Griffin for hitting Reid without cause. But the other part understands. The anger pumping through your veins. The adrenaline. Of wanting to kill something. Someone. Wanting to hurt them so they know what you’re feeling.
Pratt asked a question before, a question that made me queasy.
Are all the others out here too?
I already know the answer.
“Raj?” I dart from tree to tree, knowing she can’t hear me. “Raj?”
“Fallon!” Reid calls behind me, holding a babeeb out to light our way. “Stop!”
The trees light up at my cry, some mumbling while others chomp down as I pass. Pratt throws her hands over her ears just as Reid catches up with me. He grabs my elbow, yanking me back toward him. “Wait! You can’t even see where you’re going.”
“But she—”
“You’re not going to find—”
“They’re lovely, Marshall,” Raj’s soft voice joins the others, “you shouldn’t have.”
I stop. “Raj?”
Reid holds out the babeeb, the shadows vanishing as Raj’s mutated form comes into view. She grows more autonomous than Hinson, her jaw, neck and shoulder free. But the skin on her torso and forehead meld into the bark, strapping her to it. Her arms are lost; but both knees, calves and thighs protrude.
“Raj?” My heart is thumping wildly. “Raj? Can you hear me?”
Her vacant eyes stare out, seeing nothing. “I hate digging. You’d think they’d notice if we skipped?”
“Raj?”
“Thank you…” her pale lips pull back into a grin. “They’re lovely, Marshall. You
shouldn’t have…”
“Please Raj…” I put myself in her eye line. She stops talking and sniffs, chomping down, trying to bite me. An ungodly sound emits from her snapping jaw as she tries ripping herself free.
“Get back!” Reid yanks me toward him.
Raj snarls again, biting down over and over, trying to tear her skin restraints free. A deep moan escapes as she hisses.
“What is this?” I turn to Sampson. “What happened?”
He’s grouped with the others behind me, all standing rigid. Tucker and the rest of the Rogues approach, except the few still keeping Griffin pinned down.
I gesture to Raj over my shoulder. “Is there a way to undo this?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“So we can’t help her?” Pratt asks, joining my side. “None of them?”
“I’m afraid not,” Sampson sighs. “I wish there was something to be done for them but at this point… I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“How is this possible?” Reid asks. “Do you know what happened to them?”
“Ah…” Sampson gulps, “there’s much to be discussed. Much to inform you about. Especially you, Fallon,” he turns to me directly, “with my sincerest apologizes. In my recent understanding of events, you were partially right in your assumption.”
“About what?”
“Their state of existence.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know?”
“I’ve confirmed it with Blovid.”
It takes me a minute to recognize the name. Sampson used it once before when telling me a long story. That’s right… Blovid had something to do with the massacre on Harrizel. What had he said about him again?
“How am I partially right?”
Sampson takes a breath, glancing around the faces and then, to the mutated lot. To Raj, just feet away, melted into the tree, her own skin restraining her to it. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place to talk?”
“Camp?”
Escape from Harrizel Page 27