I grab my new Swiss army knife, pocket it, and steer Mila out of the hut, Bea following.
“Are they going to kiss?” Mila whispers loudly.
I smile to myself.
The washing station’s not far away. There’s not much water left in it, but we all get washed, and then Mila dunks Straw Hair into the water before spinning her around so water droplets fly from her hair all over me and the folded blanket I placed on the ground not far away.
Nearby, Finn sits. I almost miss him in the dark, but once I spot his pale face, I then can’t not see it. He doesn’t look great, even in this light, and I wonder if we’ll all get sick.
“He’s really nice,” Bea says in a low voice to me as I pick up the blanket.
Mila walks slightly ahead of us, and we follow.
“Finn?” I raise my eyebrows. Nice is not a word I’d associate with Finn. He’s argumentative, scathing, and he’s played some horrible pranks on Seven.
Bea shakes her head and laughs. “Not Finn.”
“Who then?”
Her face pinkens a little, and she squeezes her hands together for a moment. Mentally, I go through all the men it could be. Corin’s a year younger than me, two younger than Bea, but I’ve never noticed anything between them. Or would I notice anything? The next oldest guy is Nico. And she knows I’m not interested in him, not really…so could it be him?
“Yani,” Bea says, her voice strangely high-pitched.
“Yani?” My eyes widen, and a smile tugs across my lips. Nico’s brother. Five years older than her. That’s not too bad. Could be worse. About a year ago, I’d briefly wondered if my sister had feelings for Sajo, Finn’s dad, and it had made me feel weird. “You like Yani?”
“He’s really nice,” she says again.
“Oh, you do!” I gasp. “Just think, if you two get together, we can go on triple dates. You and Yani, Elf and Five, me and R—” I cough quickly, suddenly aware that Finn or Mila could be listening. “Nico.”
Bea glances at me sideways. “You were going to say Red.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You nearly gave away Red’s secret undercover status.”
I look ahead to where my eleven-year-old sister is now skipping. “You think she heard?” I don’t think Finn’s concentrating on us.
Bea shakes her head.
“So, has anything happened with you and Yani?” I ask quickly.
“We spoke two days ago when he filled up my water sack for me, and he wanted to know about why nettles sting.”
“Why nettles sting?”
“Yes. That’s what he asked. Why do nettles sting?”
“And why do they?”
Bea shrugs. “Nettles aren’t my specialty. But after that, he asked about herbs. We talked for half an hour. And then yesterday morning he waved to me. Oh, and a week ago he told me he was thinking of walking up to Twisty Rock and wondered whether I wanted to come along to see if there are any useful plants there. I mean, I told him I couldn’t because I was going to help Mila skin that desert rat she caught in the snare. But he might ask again.”
My eyes widen, and I suppress a smile.
A few minutes later, Mila joins us, and we find a spot to stretch the blanket out on, then we lie down. I fold the remainder of the blanket back over the three of us, so Bea’s cocooned in it in the way I know she likes. Mila is between us. Then I point to the different constellations.
“Which one is you?” Bea looks across at me through her long lashes. Part of me has always been envious of her long lashes.
I look up at the stars, find the two bright spots that are always close together. “That one’s me on the left. And the other one’s Elf.”
Twins of the stars.
“And the one above it is you, Bea. See?”
“Where am I?” Mila asks, lifting her hand up and pointing.
“You’re that one below Elf and I. See, just there, a little farther down—because you’re younger than us. You’ve been in the world less time, so your star hasn’t climbed as high.”
“Where’s Straw Hair’s star?”
“Right there.” I move her hand over and point out the brightest star—the one that Nico thinks must be another planet. Yani says it could be the New World, but that’s not right. No one sees the New World, not when they’re in this world.
“Where are Mum and Dad?” Mila asks. “I want to see them.”
I wince. A moment later, I pick out two new stars, fairly near ours. Then the feeling of the earlier anxiety from my talk with Red gnaws at my insides. If I’d said yes to rescuing my parents, would he really have helped me? Found a way to make it work when no one else has? And they’ve been there ten years… A week is always the cut-off point.
The three of us settle down. Watching the stars is one of our things that we do. It used to just be me and Bea, but Mila likes it too, and occasionally Elf. We used to do it more before, and part of me feels guilty that I’ve left it so long.
I smile as I see the relaxed look on Bea’s face. Traveling here with her wasn’t good. I’ve never seen her so scared as she was then, and it took her a long time to get used to life at Nbutai and the routine here. But she seems happy now, and seeing her happy makes my heart a little lighter.
I listen to the sounds around us. There’s a slight breeze running through the long grass to my right, and a few night insects are humming. Back toward the village, I can hear the others getting ready for bed and building the fire up. Hisses and crackles fly through the air toward us.
I look back at Bea. I smile.
“You said you’d tell me a story,” Mila whines. Her fingers curl around my wrist, but she’s turning to look at Bea.
Bea nods. “Which one would you like?”
She frowns. “One about…about Straw Hair!”
Bea smiles, then tells Mila one of her favorite stories. She calls them the Old Stories, because they’re the ones Caia-Lu would tell us back at the old village, but Bea adapts them so that Straw Hair is the central character. Her memory is amazing.
Bea tells the story for well over twenty minutes, adding in many specifics and details I’d long forgotten. Mila hangs off her every word at first, but then I notice her eyelids fluttering.
Shortly, she’s asleep.
I fidget about in the blanket for a few moments, turning so I can see our hut. Whenever Bea, Mila, and I are out here under the stars, Elf usually comes out to carry Mila back. She’s big for an eleven-year-old, and I hurt my back once carrying her.
I suppose I’ll have to wait for Elf to be ready this time. Don’t want to walk in on him and Five. Then I smile, wondering if anything’s actually happening in there. It would be just like my brother to ask her about her favorite things or something, and not actually talk—or do—anything.
Then my mind turns to Yani. Is he aware of Bea’s interest in him? Even though we live in the same group, I don’t really know Yani that well. Nico doesn’t speak of his brother much, and Yani’s one of those quiet people.
Still, Bea’s right, he is nice and he—
The long grass nearby rustles. I sit up and turn toward it, trying to see in the darkness, and—
Something hits the back of my head.
I cry out, my body jolting.
“Be quiet,” a voice snarls.
I twist, trying to see, trying to free my hands from the blanket, adrenaline rushing through my body. I hear Bea cry out and—
Pain, heavy, across my head. Again.
White spots fill my vision.
Then there’s no more.
The knife of madness chases me, and I’m running, but it flies faster than I can go. I can’t move quickly enough. It’s right behind me, cutting through the air, whistling. Trying to get me.
My bare feet slap the ground, spray mud up all over me. I feel it splatter against the backs of my legs. My breaths come in short, sharp bursts.
Need to get away.
Have to get away.
>
Red’s right behind me, and I turn, see the wild look in his eyes as he sees the knife whizzing after me. See the horror on his face as he realizes what I am.
And the knife of madness. It’s always there, chasing me, always chasing me.
I open my eyes to darkness and stars and the roar of an engine.
I’m in a truck…in one of our trucks? I press my hands against the floor. Wood, uneven. Splinters.
Panic and nausea pull through me, their long fingers grabbing as much of my stomach’s contents as possible, churning it all up.
My mind clouds over, and I struggle to think.
My stomach squeezes again.
The surface beneath me moves.
A second later, I throw up.
The vehicle jolts my vomit toward me, and it soaks my jeans. I breathe deeply—trying not to smell it—but the putridity invades my nostrils.
I scramble to the left, trying to avoid my vomit and—
Something yanks my right foot back, hard. Pain, around my ankle. I turn, my vision blurring, and feel my foot with my shaking fingers. My shoe has gone, and there’s rope around my ankle, double-tied in such a way that there isn’t a knot at my end.
“Hello?” My voice wobbles, and I suddenly feel fear. “Bea? Bea—are you here?”
I blink furiously, trying to see, but the darkness is like a thick fog, obscuring everything, trying to weigh me down, trying to stop me.
“Bea? Mila?”
But there’s no answer, and I can’t hear anyone else’s breaths.
They’re not here? Not taken too?
My fingers follow the rope, and I lean forward—my head suddenly aching—and follow the rope until it disappears over the side of the truck and underneath the vehicle’s frame. I lean over as far as I can, trying to find the other end, but I can’t—and the momentum of the vehicle means leaning farther risks me being thrown out. Being dragged along the desert ground would probably kill me. Too many rocks.
I lean back.
Shit.
Someone’s tied me up. But only by one of my feet.
I breathe deeply, know I need to stay calm. I push my hair back, then tie it loosely with the band I keep on my wrist. Okay. Right.
The truck jolts again, and something falls forward, a few feet in front of me. An empty fuel can. I recognize it immediately. This is one of our L200s—the red one, I think.
Someone from Nbutai has taken me, tied me up.
More pain at the back of my head, and I raise my hand, gingerly feel the two lumps at the base of my skull. Someone’s hit me hard. Twice.
When I open my mouth to scream loudly, it makes me feel sick.
I shout anyway, for as long as I can, and I try to see into the cab. But it’s dark, and I can’t crawl forward enough because of the rope—
Rope.
The rope is likely tied underneath the vehicle, so I can’t untie it. I need to cut it. I have a knife—I pat my pockets down, then curse. There’s nothing there. Whoever’s taken me has got my Swiss army knife.
I swear loudly. Saying all the bad words I know makes me feel better. A lot better.
A few moments pass, and I try to think. But all I can think is that I need to wait, wait until whoever’s driving the truck stops. I can’t do anything until then.
I curse again.
It takes hours for the vehicle to even slow down. By the time it stops, I feel dizzy, sick, and disorientated. My head is throbbing. But it’s starting to get a little lighter now. The light makes it better.
The cab’s door opens, and I straighten up as someone jumps out. A man—I see his silhouette, see his large nose, feel the hatred in my blood boil deeper.
“I think we need to talk,” Rahn says as he looks over the truck’s wall at me. His nostrils flare, and I see myself reflected in his dark glasses for a brief moment. “No one undermines me. And no one ever slaps me.”
I muster as much strength as I can, trying to ignore my pounding head. “You were out of order. You insulted Bea. You deserved that slap. And where is she? Have you hurt her? What about Mila?”
Rahn tilts his head slowly. Then he lifts his arm up. I see the flash of the barrel before he has the gun against my head.
My eyes widen, and I gasp a raspy breath. He wouldn’t…would he?
“You need to apologize.” His words are dark. “And you need to apologize now. I mean it. I’m your leader, and you’ll treat me with the respect I deserve.”
You don’t deserve respect. I want to spit the words at him, but I reconsider. I know he’s going to force an apology out of me. Or kill me.
“I will be respected, Keelie. You will respect me.” He tilts his head back, looks up at the sky for a moment. “My father was the leader of our group before me. Of course, it wasn’t the Nbutai group then. But he was the leader, and he got the attention and respect he deserved. Me? I was just a child then, people never took notice of me. But that changed when I became the leader. And I am not that meek child anymore. I claimed my rightful position, and everyone follows my command. I will crush anyone who stands against me.” He removes the gun from my head, tucks it into his waistband, then cracks his knuckles. “Now, have you got something to say to me?”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“I can’t hear you.”
“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat. “But you had no right to attack me and drag me out here.” I try to stand, to give myself height over him, but my legs are too shaky. The pain at the back of my head throbs. “You’re a monster. And where are my sisters?”
For a second, Rahn doesn’t say anything. Then he leans in closer, over the truck’s wall, so close I can smell his sweat. His face is inches from mine, and I can see every dirty pore in his skin.
“Keelie, I don’t think you understand me. And I don’t know how you’ve managed to live in my group for ten years without understanding how we operate. But, in my group, you respect me. You don’t insult me. And you’ve got to be taught a lesson.”
Got to be taught a lesson.
There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that sends shivers down my spine. Maybe it’s because I can’t see much of his face—the darkness and his glasses are a shield.
I shake my head and stare at my feet—one shoe missing. “You’ll never get away with this.”
“Get away with what? Teaching you respect?” He laughs. “Your sisters are fine. But you’ll be lucky if you make it back to Nbutai alive.”
His words make me go cold. All the muscles in my face slacken. Rahn laughs, then he steps away. I watch him climb back into the cab.
A moment later, the engine starts up again. He only stopped to talk to me?
He drives me farther out, across the desert. I’m disorientated, and I can’t work out where we are. Can’t recognize it at all. There are no signs of New Kimearo on any of the horizons—no signs of any civilization, so I can only rule out one direction that we could’ve taken from the village.
Thinking of Nbutai makes me wonder what my sisters have told Elf and the others. They’ll know it’s Rahn who’s taken me, won’t they?
My stomach twists.
I try to stretch forward, grimacing when the rope around my ankle tightens and tries to yank me back. But I keep reaching for the back of the cab. There’s a window: I can see the back of Rahn’s head. He’s definitely on his own in there, and that makes me feel better. I can take on one man easily, as soon as I’m untied. Even if it is our leader.
A minute later, I look around the truck bed again, but there’s nothing I can use as a weapon. There’s a folded tarpaulin in the far corner that I can’t reach, and the empty fuel can rolling around.
I try with my fingernails to saw through the rope, but it’s definitely not a quick option. Shit. Rahn’s really in charge of me now. And I can’t do anything until he unties me.
I lie back and think, wait.
Eventually, Rahn stops once more. It’s completely light now.
“Come to have an
other pointless conversation before we drive on again?” I sit up as he moves toward me, mustering all the confidence I can. “And really, isn’t this a huge waste of fuel?”
Then I see the knife in his hand. It’s not my knife. He points it at me.
“You know what happens to those who disobey me?”
“You wouldn’t.” I eye the knife carefully, then Rahn. I shake my head. My hands aren’t tied, and, if I lunge at the right time—when he’s off-guard—I could get the knife; he’s close enough that the rope around my ankle shouldn’t be a problem. I just need to distract him. “You wouldn’t, Rahn.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“No.” I keep my breathing even. “Leaders don’t kill their own people.”
I try to hold his gaze, steady, though I can’t see his eyes. His intentions are hidden. He grips the knife tighter, then leans in a fraction closer.
“Know this, Keelie. If there’s a second time when you disobey me, I won’t be bluffin’.”
Bluffing?
He bows his head, and I see his bald spot. He brings the knife down to my foot, hovers the blade above my skin.
I tense.
“I’m cuttin’ you free.” He half-smiles. He’s enjoying this.
He also takes a deliberately long time to cut through the rope, and, under those glasses, I know he’s watching me.
“And, if there’s a next time, it won’t be you I punish.” Rahn gathers up the rope, and I pull my foot back toward me instantly. He turns and looks out at the desert. “Perhaps it’ll be Bea I take out here. Over yonder. I’m sure she’d like that.”
My muscles harden, and it’s all I can do not to pounce on him. “Don’t you dare take Bea anywhere. Or Mila—or anyone.”
“Then never make me do this again. Because, believe me, I’ll use whatever means are necessary to annihilate my competition.”
Annihilate.
“Get in the cab, Keelie. And don’t tell anyone anythin’.”
We get back to Nbutai in the evening because Rahn drives in circles most of the way and goes ridiculously slowly. We’ve been out nearly twenty-four hours and he didn’t give me any of the food he’d packed. Once we’re out of the truck, he digs into his pocket and hands my Swiss army knife back. I wait for him to give me my other shoe, but he doesn’t do or say anything more, just heads off to his own hut.
A Dangerous Game Page 9