Master: Arrow's Flight #3

by Casey Hays

  “No!” Aaron lunges from the porch, wide-eyed with fear, but Berg flicks his head and on command, a soldier leaps, the butt of his gun smacking against Aaron’s temple. Aaron slumps to his knees, his loaf of bread thumping into the mud.

  “Aaron!”

  Penelope reaches for him, but Berg grabs her by the elbow, holding her back. And even though she could take him out with one swing of her fist, she doesn’t. Jaw clenched, she relaxes her shoulders, and she does nothing as the weight of this predicament crushes her. But I’m not as practiced in restraint.

  My blood humming, I lunge toward the soldier, slamming my fist into his face. He flies backwards away from Aaron, the rifle twirling upward and over his head and clattering a few feet away. He’s out cold, and a dozen Vortex soldiers circle me, guns cocked and aimed. All I can think about in that moment is Kate and how this is no way to protect her. The thought shoves my heartbeat into overdrive, and breath heaving, I go to my knees, hands raised above my head.

  Aaron rights himself, pressing a hand against the bloodied lump already forming.

  “What is wrong with you people?” Lumbering to his feet, he pulls his hand from his head and examines the blood pooling on his fingertips. “You have families. Isn’t that why you’re here? To save your children?” He takes a tripping step, anger outlining every muscle in his body. “Haven’t we done everything you wanted? You’ve taken over our homes, taken our food, our water. Penelope has given up the clinic for your headquarters. What more will you take?”

  Berg glares through his small, black eyes.

  “We will take what we need for this cause,” he concedes. “And your children die, too. Do not forget that we do this for your village as much as our own.”

  “At whose expense?” Aaron seethes. He takes another clumsy step. “You plan to wipe out an entire village, kill innocent people—and children—and claim ‘justice’ for us all. Do you have any proof of a cure? Or are you simply following orders like every other robot in your infantry here?”

  “Aaron—” Penelope begins, but he cuts her off.

  “Do you want to know what I think?” Another step. Another soldier moves in, the butt of his gun ready as Aaron inches closer to the general. “I think you are a coward.” He spins, the canteen whirling around his body in slow motion to catch up with the sudden movement. “All of you are cowards!” he screeches.

  His hands fly up as his words spring from his mouth, and the soldier slams the gun into his face. A burst of blood spews at the sound of his nose cracking. He staggers in agony and goes to his knees.

  “Stop it!” Penelope screams. “Stop! I’ll go! I’ll go with you. Just stop!”

  “Penelope, no.” Aaron’s bellow is lost in the hollows of a pained whisper.

  Penelope yanks free from Berg’s grip and falls to her knees in front of her husband, and my instinct to fight jars every nerve in my body. I strain to hold my place, to keep from striking back. I press my fists into the dirt fighting to control the aching urge rumbling across my skin.

  “I’ll go,” Penelope repeats, her angry eyes directed straight at Berg.

  “Yes. You will.” Berg’s voice reeks with satisfaction. I glare at him until the smirk on his face fades into uncertainty. He clears his throat.

  Aaron covers his nose, shaking his head furiously as blood spills out between his fingers.

  “You can’t do this,” he pleads.

  “Shhh. Let me see,” Penelope takes his face in her hands and examines the lump briefly before focusing on his nose. Already twin bruises form under Aaron’s eyes.

  “Listen to me.” She runs her fingers across the bridge of his nose, and with one quick snap, pops the bone into place. He grunts, falling forward on his hands. “They won’t hurt me,” she whispers. “I’m the only doctor they’ve got. I need someone to stay here. I’ve taught you what you need to know to do the job.”

  She nods with silent pleading. Even in this moment, faced with danger, she thinks of Kate’s welfare. She kisses Aaron’s forehead quickly when his eyes fill with tears, from pain . . . or fear. Or both.

  “I’m not going,” I say loudly enough for General Berg to hear. Penelope shifts her eyes toward me, full of warning. I disregard this and rise to my feet inside the circle of Eden-killers aimed and ready.

  “You have no choice,” Berg responds. “You are a suspect.”

  “I didn’t touch your men,” I growl. My nerves shiver once. I clench my fists against the clicking, but I know. I’m about to lose it.

  “Ah, yes. I’m supposed to believe you,” he sneers. All his momentary fear from earlier has vanished with the turn of events. “Because nobody in Eden is a liar.”

  “I’m not going,” I repeat, stronger. I search the sea of soldiers’ faces until I find Nate Snow—the one who helped me and who crouched like a coward between two houses to keep an eye on me. The one who didn’t tell anyone a boy from Eden had arrived in the village. I don’t understand his motives, but I have to wonder now—if I’d stayed hidden, would he have told anyone about me?

  I shake the question away. He’s Vortex. And that makes him my enemy. Our eyes connect; he stares me down. I swallow hard, and one thought buzzes through my head: Whatever it takes, I won’t leave Kate.

  Quick as a lightening flash, I break through the huddle of soldiers surrounding me and bound up the steps to shove open the front door.

  The bullet slams into the doorframe just inches from my head. I manage to whip out of its reach as splintering wood explodes into the air and ricochets across the porch. And there it is—the gooey clump of white liquid slowly oozing down the length of the door. It stops me in my tracks for a moment with a mesmerizing effect. I reach out, dip into the goo with the very tip of my finger, and a searing streak of pain strikes my skin. I gasp.

  This stuff is what killed two members of Jeb’s team.

  It’s what almost killed Kate.

  I turn, slow and calculated, and I know immediately who took the shot. He’s still attempting to stare me down . . . and failing miserably.

  My survival stem hums loud and furious, vibrating through my body with explosive force. Slowly, I wipe my burning fingertip against my jeans, leaving a white streak across my thigh. As I stare out at the waiting faces, my body signals in me a very real truth. This time, survival doesn’t demand running.

  It demands blood.

  I spring to the edge of the porch, and with one hand on the railing, vault myself over it. I slam the heel of my foot into Berg’s chin, sending him head over heels to land flat on his face in the dirt, unconscious.

  “Go, Aaron!”

  Penelope’s voice, far away, is like a whisper in a tunnel. Aaron stumbles up the stairs and through the open door with Penelope on his heels. I look back long enough to see her get Aaron inside and turn back to take her stand in the middle of her porch. And gunfire shatters the day, not poised at her, but chasing me.

  “Stop this!” she screams. “I said I would go! Leave him be!”

  I crash through a row of confused soldiers, racing straight into the shower of bullets. One whizzes past my ear. Another grazes my chest with the licking tongue of a burning lash. A third skims against the thick muscle of my bicep, leaving a painful glob of white on my skin before bouncing off into the air. But nothing penetrates.

  Not one bullet.

  How is that possible?

  I see the next bullet. It glides through the air in a slow motion spin, headed straight for my face, and I duck under it. It takes half a second for me to answer my own question.

  I’m too fast.

  I’m too fast!

  My heart thumps rapidly. All the times I imagined that I was moving too quickly to be seen? Maybe I really was. And it suddenly strikes me: this is my advantage. This is how I win!

  With a new burst of energy, I duck my head and charge straight for my target—Nate Snow. Terror streaks his face, and I can’t contain my smile. That’s right, buddy. Who’s in control now?

&n
bsp; His eyes dart furiously as he tries to pinpoint my actions, but he can’t see more than a blur of movement. Full of a new hope, I dart in a circle around him; all he feels is air. He spins with fright, and I take the opportunity to whip the rifle right out of his hands. I grab him by the throat, lift him from the ground and lean in. His eyes widen with surprised shock.

  I take a minute to scan the chaos overtaking the Vortex, and I push back at the impossible notion gnawing at me, but I can’t deny it. The soldiers stare at each other, shrugging in confusion, whisking their guns in every direction because they have no idea where I went. Several have gathered on the porch, surrounding Penelope. She doesn’t fight them. She holds her head high when two of them take hold of her arms and lead her down the steps.

  General Berg is out cold. Two soldiers roll him over, patting his cheek in an attempt to wake him. His head lolls to the side, inert.

  I glare into the captain’s eyes, my fingers tightening against his Adam’s apple. He gags for air.

  “Now,” I snarl. “Let me tell you a little secret, Captain.”

  His eyes widen. He tries to speak, but he clamps his lips in pain as I squeeze harder. His fingers grapple with mine. I hold fast to his throat. He takes in a seriously small slice of air—hardly enough to sustain him.

  I whisper. “If anything happens to anyone in that house,” I whisper. “You’re the one I’m coming for. You. Go tell that to the general and see if he cares.”

  Just before he passes out, I drop him like a rag doll, aiming the gun at his head. He crumbles at my feet, groping his throat and gasping for air. I enjoy it for only a second, and I’m gone.

  In a flash, I leap into a group of soldiers. At the impact, their bodies go flying. I race toward Penelope, yank one soldier away from her and haul him across the porch by his collar.

  “Penelope! Get inside!”

  I heave him off the other side of the porch and leap after him, landing hard on his left arm. He screams in pain. I ignore this, snatch his gun. Bullets ricochet off the paneling, and I wedge up against the side of the house.

  “Penelope!” I chance a glance around the corner, but more soldiers surround her.

  “Ian, just go!” she screams. “I’ll be fine.”

  A parade of bullets flies overhead, and I shrink down. Keep moving!

  The thought runs through my brain over and over even as the reasonable part of me wants to rush back to Penelope. But I’ll be no help to anyone dead. Keep moving, and they won’t be able to touch me.

  I clutch a rifle in each hand, launch from the wall of the house, and bound over the side gate. I easily clear it by at least ten feet up, and I’m exhilarated. Landing with a crashing thud, I charge around the side of the house and out of sight.

  “Aaron!”

  I bang on the back door. Kate. I have to get to Kate.

  “Aaron!”

  I beat harder, prepare myself to break the door in if I have to, though it’s not the best idea at the time. But finally, Aaron opens it with a sharp click. He squats behind it out of sight. I burst into the darkened kitchen, pulling him with me behind the safety of the counter.

  The front door is open, and just as I make a move to close it, two men poke their heads in. I ease back and duck low. They stay just outside, but their weapons are ready. Aaron holds a bloodied cloth over his nose. He gapes at me, eyes full of desperation. My eyes dart toward Kate’s door and back at the men. I have to take care of them first.

  All my stems are clicking at full speed, battering against each other inside me. The replay of the last ten minutes beats inside my brain, and my heart beats in time with it. I’m flooded with excitement and anticipation instead of fear, and I suddenly understand something—I was made for this. I am a soldier. And for whatever reason, I know what to do. I’ve never been trained a day in my life for war, but I know exactly what I was programmed to do. And everything Penelope told me begins to fall into place.

  This attack has triggered the Serum’s defense like never before.

  “I have to get to Kate,” I whisper. I snap my head toward Aaron. “Do you want this?” I stretch a rifle toward him. “We’re kind of outnumbered here.”

  Aaron’s eyes turn hard, and he grips the barrel of the weapon. For a moment, we hold it together between us.

  “They’ve taken the love of my life. I’ve never been more ready for a fight,” he answers. “May God be with us.”

  I take in a quick breath, and with a sharp nod, I release my hold on the gun.

  “Be careful,” I say.

  I drop the other gun, and with lightening speed, I swing myself onto the countertop and slide across its length on my side. I land with a quick bounce on the balls of my feet and dash for the door, surprising the soldiers when I rip the rifles from their hands. Briefly, they stare in frightened shock at their weapons dangling from my fingers. I smile, one brow raised, and I shove them. They fly backwards into the men who charge up the steps toward me, causing a cluster of sprawling bodies and falling weapons. I race into the fray, snatching up each rifle before it hits the ground, grabbing weapons from befuddled soldiers. I take a quick survey searching for Penelope. She’s nowhere. Arms loaded with weapons, I leap back inside and slam and bolt the door.

  “Did you see Penelope?” Aaron asks.

  His nose has stopped bleeding, but two black bruises form beneath his eyes. I shake my head as I deposit at least fifteen guns at my feet. With a defeated nod, he slumps against the counter.

  The momentary reprieve is gone as a wave of bullets batters the door. I duck and leap toward Kate’s room. The front window shatters. Aaron spits bullets back at the attackers before ducking behind the counter.

  I plunge through Kate’s door, and with a gasp of shock, I halt.

  Broken glass is splayed across a mattress riddled with bullet holes, tattered and torn. The I.V. tubes hang in limp strands over the bed.

  The bed . . . is empty.

  Chapter 10

  N

  o, no, no, no.”

  The blood drums through my brain. I turn a wide circle, scanning the room, and run my hands through my hair.

  Where is she?

  Another spraying of bullets beats against the side of the house, and I drop to my knees under cover of the bed. And there she is. A sigh heaves out of me.

  She releases a desperate squeal as another round of gunshots sounds off. She curls herself up into the fetal position, her head ducked into the crook of her arms.

  “Kate!”

  At the sound of her name, she raises her head, eyes wide with fear. I reach a hand toward her; she stares at it with groggy confusion sketched across her face. The room explodes into sound again.

  “Kate, give me your hand!”

  When her only response is a terrified stare, I take hold of the bed frame and hoist the bed up against the window. The room slides into shadow, but the bed ineptly shields us for the moment. Kate’s breathing becomes ragged spurts. I crouch beside her, place a hand on her leg. She jerks away and scrambles up against the wall, painfully hugging her knees to her chest against the healing wounds.

  “It’s okay, Kate,” I nod reassuringly. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

  “Where—where am I?” Her eyes dart around the dark room briefly and focus on me. She reaches up, grazing the stitches on her forehead and gasps. “What—?”

  “We’re in Jordan,” I nod. A lone pop of a rifle makes her jump. I hold out a hand, hoping to ease her fears. “You were injured, and . . . it’s a long story, but Penelope helped you get better.”

  She purses her lips, breathes heavily through her nose. She’s shaking like a leaf. I slide toward her another inch, and watch, dumbfounded, when her eyes widen with fear, and she gasps and scuttles out of my reach. I’m stunned. I don’t know what to think. I’ve waited for this moment—the moment I would see her eyes again. Of course, this is not how I envisioned it. But Kate? She looks at me as if I’m a stranger.

  She’s afraid of m
e.

  Aaron bursts into the room and slams the door shut. He surveys Kate’s wide-eyed stare for only a second.

  “We have to go,” he demands. He tosses me the rifle. “We can’t hold them out much longer.”

  He rushes to the end of the room and runs his hands along the wall in a distinct pattern. He presses; the wall clicks and slides open. I rise to my feet, my jaw dropping. Aaron turns.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “A way out.”

  “Why do you have a secret passage?”

  He raises his hands with a shake of his head. “Does it matter? Let’s go!”

  “We can’t leave those weapons behind.” I thumb at the door over my shoulder. “We have to take every one of them.”

  Aaron frowns, but he nods, and I jerk open the door and race across the room. I glance at the bullet-ridden front door, surprised the Vortex soldiers haven’t gained entry by now. Apparently, I’ve made them wary enough that they aren’t making any sudden moves to overtake the house. Good. That will give us more time to escape.

  Over the window, the curtains rise and fall sleepily in the breeze, causing an eerie contrast to the battlefront just outside its broken glass. I bend, gathering up the rifles, and in that moment, I notice the utter silence. Confused, I straighten, step closer to the window, and ease back the curtain.

  General Berg has been hauled off, and a series of commands reaches my ears. The steady beat of marching fills the air. Single file, the men are moving away from the neighborhood and toward the center of town, leaving a skeleton crew behind. I let the curtain fall back into place.

  A thunk at my feet catches my attention just as Aaron pops his head into the room.

  “Ian?” he hollers.

  I crouch, stare at the device that rolls in a small circle and then stops to rock back and forth. It’s ticking. I pick it up. Aaron’s eyes go wide.