Soul Catchers

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by Carrie Pulkinen


  He pulls me to my feet and hangs the backpack over my shoulder. “There are people out there who will help you.”

  “Where? New Seattle? No one lives within two hundred miles of here. I’ll never get there before . . .” Before I become the wolf, I want to say, but I can’t make my mouth form the words. He’s moved into the hallway, so I follow him out of my cell.

  “There are people between the cities. Rogue groups of infect . . . of enlightened who escaped the Exodus.”

  “What? I don’t understand. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It will. I promise.” He pulls out his gun. “You have to trust me.”

  I throw my hands into the air. “Don’t shoot me!”

  “I’m not.” He sighs and turns the butt of the gun toward me. “You have to shoot me, to make it look like you escaped.”

  I raise my hands higher, refusing the gun. “I can’t do that! I would never shoot a person!”

  He jerks his head from side to side like he’s making sure we’re still alone. “Everyone knows you can fire a gun, Wren. At least fifty people saw you kill the wolf. It’s the only way I can let you out without getting myself executed. Please.” He presses the gun into my hands. “Here.” He points to his leg. “I’ll survive a shot here, and there’s no way you’ll miss and hit my heart.”

  The gun weighs heavy in my hand, its familiar textured grip and cold steel barrel reminding me of the horror of yesterday. There’s a silencer attached, as with most enforcer weapons, so “justice” can be dispensed without alarming the population.

  “I can’t.” I try to hand the gun to him, but he refuses it.

  “Believe me, if there was another way, I’d say so.” A door opens at the front of the building, its sound echoing down the concrete hallway. He fixes his gaze on me. “It’s now or never.”

  I aim the gun at his right knee. We have target practice once a week in gym class, and I’m a pretty good shot. If I can get my hand to stop shaking, I won’t miss. “You’re crazy, you know? Why are you doing this?”

  He casts his gaze downward. “If you find Liam, tell him not a day goes by that I don’t think of him.”

  Liam. His dead son? Why would he say such a thing unless he was sending me to my own grave? “Liam died three years ago.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what you’re supposed to think.”

  I start to ask him what he’s talking about, but a pair of boots pounding in the corridor reminds me I’m out of time.

  “I’m sorry. And . . . thank you.” I squeeze the trigger, and a pop sounds as the bullet makes impact. John lets out a muffled groan and crumples to the floor, but I don’t take the time to watch him fall. I fly out the back door, into the night, and race to the forest.

  He said to go east to find the gap in the wall, but which way is east? I take a guess and turn right, dodging low-hanging branches as I run for my life. Search dogs bark in the distance, and a man orders, “Find the girl!”

  I’m deep in the forest now. I must be close to the wall. The trees filter out the moonlight, but I can see fine. The heaviness I felt in the cell lifts, and I run faster than I’ve ever run before. This must be an effect of the wolf’s spirit joining with mine. I know it’s not a good thing, and I only have three days left until the complete transformation, but I take full advantage of the extra speed. My body feels alive, more agile and strong, as I spring over a fallen tree trunk and land gracefully as a cat.

  The wall comes into view, and for a moment I panic. Armed enforcers usually patrol the perimeter at night, an extra precaution to keep the wolf out. As I close in on the gap, I listen for the sound of footsteps on the wall. But for a hooting owl and the search party in the distance, the night is silent. They must have given the guards the night off when they caught me—the wolf. I shake my head, still not able to comprehend what’s happening to me. The opening in the wall is small, but I manage to toss my backpack to the other side and shimmy through. A clump of gray fur hangs from a sharp edge of crumbling concrete. This must be where the wolf got through yesterday morning.

  And now I’m helping him get out.

  As I stumble to my freedom outside the wall, John’s gun is still in my hand. The feel of the cold metal against my skin sickens me, and I drop it in the grass. I’ve shot two men in the past twenty-four hours, and that’s two more than I can handle. But . . . the weapon might come in handy.

  Reluctantly, I pick it up and shove it into my backpack. I run aimlessly for another half hour, trying to put as much distance as possible between my pursuers and me. The adrenaline is starting to dissipate from my system, slowing me down, but I have to keep moving. Surely they won’t follow me into the unpopulated areas. No one is allowed out here. There are specified roads connecting each city, and the only way to travel between settlements is in an approved vehicle on those roads. Or air travel, but most people can’t afford that. The cost of fuel is so high most people don’t even own cars.

  The woods end abruptly where an abandoned highway intersects the trees. Tall weeds climb from the cracked asphalt, Mother Nature taking back what is rightfully hers. I stop to catch my breath and plan my next move, and the crisp night air bites at my bare arms. I shiver. John said he packed clothes for me, but I don’t have time to check my backpack. I have to keep moving. The crumbling road winds up toward the mountain . . . the same mountain my mom pointed to, saying there was light there. What could she have meant?

  I head toward the peak, hoping to find something there to help me. If my father really does have a cure for this disease, I need to find him fast.

  I trudge along for another hour or so before I hear something. A dog howls in the distance, and a group of people takes off running through the brush. They’ve found my trail. I’ve been sticking to the road so far since it’s much easier to walk on pavement than to stumble over tree roots, but now I dart to the other side, into the safety and cover of the trees.

  I can’t take much more of this. I’ve been running for hours, my feet are blistered, my legs are on fire, and my lungs are going to collapse. The search party is close; the sounds of bodies rustling through the trees and of men shouting are growing louder. Maybe I should turn myself in. I have no idea how to survive in the woods, and at least I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone if they had me locked up.

  My body trembles at the thought of being imprisoned. Memories of the cage flash through my mind: not being able to move, no food, and the drugs . . . oh, the drugs. I can’t let them catch me, but I can’t run forever. I spot a low-hanging branch and decide my best option is to climb. If I can get high enough and stay quiet, maybe they’ll give up. Or they’ll at least look in another area.

  I tighten the straps on my pack and haul myself up into a tree just as the first enforcer appears on the road below. Moonlight illuminates their faces, and I recognize each one as they make their way onto the highway. There’s Bill, Scott, and Justin. They were seniors on the track team when I was a freshman. I considered them my friends, but now they don’t even consider me human. A few more men step onto the street, all dressed in enforcer gray, all with buzz cuts and clean-shaven faces. They remind me of robots programmed for a single purpose: to find the wolf.

  The last man joins them on the street, his posture lurking, his fists clenched. My heartbeat stutters as I notice the vein that always pops out on Seth’s neck when he’s angry.

  “Why is everyone standing around?” Seth bellows. “We have to find that wolf.”

  I suck in a sharp breath and clamp my hand over my mouth. I’m not even a person to him anymore.

  Another man claps him on the shoulder. Tears blur my vision, so I can’t see who it is. “We can’t go past this mark without permission from headquarters. I think it’s safe to say it got away.”

  Seth jerks away and faces the man. “It can’t get away. I caught it. I saved our community.”

  “And you’ll be recognized for it, man. You’re still getting that promotion. C
’mon.” The man wraps his arm around Seth’s shoulders and leads him toward the city.

  As they walk away, I cling to the tree until I can’t hold on anymore. The more time and distance there is between us, the safer I’ll be. Of course, I’m not even a human being anymore, so I may never be truly safe again. How could Seth dismiss me so easily? He’s all I have left in the world, and he’s tossed me aside like I’m nothing.

  To add to the heartache, I’ve ripped the scab on my wrist, and I’m bleeding again. Perfect. Just perfect. I scramble down from the tree and head deeper into the forest. Once I’m out of sight from the road, I slide my back down a smooth tree trunk and hang my head in my hands. A hysterical sob bubbles up from my chest, and I take a deep breath to regain control. I’ve got to keep myself together. It can’t get any worse than this.

  To distract from the pain, both physical and mental, I unzip my backpack and peer inside. A loaf of bread rests on top of a bundle of clothes. I haven’t eaten since dinner last night, and my stomach rumbles. I greedily devour the loaf, not letting a single breadcrumb go to waste. There went my rations for the next however many days I can survive out here. At least I’m not nauseated anymore.

  I find the jar of my mom’s salve and spread the thick gel onto my wounds. It stings at first, but soon the flesh is gloriously numb. I unravel the wad of clothes and sigh when I realize they’re dirty. John must have picked up my running outfit from yesterday that I’d discarded onto my bed. Oh well. They may be worn, but they’re cleaner than the blood and vomit-stained mess I’m wearing now. I was able to wash most of the muck off in the lake before Seth got to me, but I still feel disgusting, and a layer of dried blood has hardened around the neckline of my shirt. As I shake out the pants, preparing to change, something falls out of the pocket. The red stone glows dimly in the dirt, and the silver glints in the moonlight.

  My amulet. The one thing I could have done to keep my mother alive was wear that stupid necklace, and now it’s lying here beside me in the dirt, taunting me. I sob as I stare at it, admiring the beauty of the coral . . . the love my mom put into crafting it. I pick it up, laying the red stone in my hand to examine her last token of affection. My skin sizzles as the enchanted amulet burns into my palm. I yelp, dropping it to the ground and clutching my injured hand.

  “Why is this happening?” I shout to no one. “Why me?”

  Of course. My mom enchanted the amulet against the wolf. Now that the beast lives inside me, I can’t touch the stone. Using a stick, I lift the necklace by the chain and drop it into the backpack. That’s when I notice the knife. Nestled in the bottom of the bag is a large hunting knife with a wickedly sharp blade. I grasp the handle with my good hand and examine the tool. The grip is wrapped in soft brown leather, and the six-inch blade curves upward, ending in a sharp point.

  “What on earth am I going to do with this?”

  Then I know.

  I’ve lost so much in the past thirty-six hours, it just makes sense. I reach behind me and place the blade at the nape of my neck. Taking my braid between the fingers of my other hand, I cringe at what I’m about to do. In one swift motion, I saw it off. My hair falls to the ground, and fat tears rain down on it.

  “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I wail. “I don’t know what to do. Please help me!”

  My tears must be blurring my vision because a misty figure shimmers in front of me. I rub my eyes to make it go away, but when I stop, the image is still there. The mist swirls and takes the form of a person.

  “Mom?” I’m going crazy. I blink hard and rise onto my knees, but the image of my mother doesn’t falter. She’s transparent and has a silvery glow, but it’s definitely my mom.

  I’m here, little bird, she says. You’re going to be okay.

  I rake my hands through my sheared hair. “Okay? How can I be okay? I’m like Todd now. I’ll kill people!”

  The corners of her mouth turn up into a familiar sad smile. You’re stronger than Todd was.

  “No.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I’m not strong. I . . . I can’t—”

  You can do anything you put your mind to. Look at you now, talking to a soul. Not many people can do that. Her spirit kneels in front of me and wipes a tear from my face. Her hand is ice cold, but it feels as solid as a living person. You have more power than you realize. Go to the mountain. The people there can help you. They can help you find your father. Her image begins to fade, the mist thinning until she’s hardly visible.

  “Wait! Don’t go, Mom!” I reach for her, grasping her wrist in my hand. “I need you!”

  I have to go, little bird. I’ve lingered in this plane for too long now. I will be watching you from the other side. Sleep now; you’ll need your strength for what’s to come. She pulls from my grasp and fades away.

  As I sit there in the dirt, trying to comprehend what has happened, a weariness overcomes me. My eyelids are heavy, and my body aches with exhaustion as if my mom has cast one last spell . . . a sleeping spell.

  Chapter Six

  Wren

  The off-key melody of “The Ballad of Davy Crockett” drifts into my ears, arousing me from my sleep. I drag myself into a seated position and blink away the images of my dreams. My mind is groggy, but my instincts kick in, and all my muscles tense.

  There’s someone else in the woods.

  Who would be this far out in the unpopulated area? Did the enforcers get permission to continue their search? My brain still isn’t functioning enough to make my body move, but my heart slams into my throat as someone steps through the brush. He’s wearing khakis and brown boots—not enforcer gray—so my heart dislodges, and the tension in my muscles eases. My life may not be in danger just yet.

  “Hello. Whoa.” He covers his mouth and nose with his hand, as if he smells something offensive.

  He smells me.

  The man considers me for a moment and pulls his hand from his face. He’s fair skinned with hazel eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. His dark chin-length hair hangs over the right side of his face, almost concealing his right eye. When he smiles at me, I immediately recognize his goofy, mischievous grin.

  “Looks like you had a rough night. I’m Liam.” He starts to hold his hand out to shake, but he must think better of it. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

  I glare at him, but don’t open my mouth. Has he really been alive all these years? And his dad knew?

  He narrows his eyes and rests the butt of his rifle on the ground. “Yeah, you’re Wren Lewis, ain’t you? I remember you from school. What are you doing out here?”

  I gather up my mess and start shoving things into my backpack. I toss my cleanish clothes inside, and then I go for the knife. He doesn’t react when I pick it up, but as I hesitate over the cut-off braid, his eyes widen.

  “You might want to put those other clothes on, you know. No offense, but you stink.” He crinkles his nose and waves his hand in front of his face as if he’s fanning away the stench.

  I look down at my clothes and sigh. I must be a sight: covered in dried blood, dirt on my face, my hair chopped off. I leave the braid lying on the ground and rise to my feet. Liam has grown since I last saw him. He used to be shorter than me, but now he’s about three inches taller.

  “Can’t you talk anymore?” He slings his rifle onto his shoulder.

  “I can talk.”

  His grin widens. “Good to know. So I’m looking for a friend of mine. Todd Mason? Seen him? He went out a few nights ago and hasn’t come back.”

  Todd Mason was his friend? I swallow and stare into his eyes, unsure whether I can trust him or not. He was always a troublemaker in school, and I haven’t spoken to him since the fire incident. He’s supposed to be dead, but he’s been living who-knows-where in secret for the past three years. No, I don’t think I can trust him. I better not tell him everything.

  “Todd Mason—the wolf—is dead.”

  Liam gasps and takes a step back. He stares at me like he’s trying to decide whether he be
lieves me or not. Blinking away the shimmer that’s formed in his eyes, he glances down at my braid lying in the dirt and presses his lips into a hard line. “Do you . . . do you know who killed him? They’re going to need help.”

  “No!” I say a little too loudly. “Why would I know who killed him?”

  He looks at my hair on the ground again. “It’s just . . . your . . .” He gestures toward the braid.

  “What about it?”

  “You’re Apache, ain’t you? Isn’t it a tradition to cut your hair when someone dies?” He smooths his own hair down the side of his face. “It’s a nice gesture.”

  My bottom lip trembles, and it takes me a few moments to force out the words. “He killed my mom.”

  He opens his mouth to speak, but another gasp gets caught in his throat. His eyes start to shimmer again, but he blinks and swallows down whatever emotion has choked him. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He reaches out awkwardly like he wants to hug me, so I take a step back.

  “I don’t need your sympathy.” I turn and march away.

  “Wait!” He hurries to catch up. “Where are you going?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Adjusting my backpack, I pick up my pace, hoping he’ll get the hint.

  “Mind if I walk with you a little while?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  He jogs next to me. “The wolf killed my mom too.”

  “I know.”

  “It wasn’t Todd who killed her. You know that, right? You can’t blame the man for what the wolf did. He was trying to overcome it.”

  I stop and turn to face him. “Was he, now? Well, I guess that makes it okay then? He didn’t mean to do it, so it doesn’t matter?”

  “Oh, it matters a lot. I’m not saying it doesn’t. But until you’ve experienced it, you should be careful where you place blame, that’s all.”

 

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