Master: Arrow's Flight #3

by Casey Hays

  “It’s a bomb,” he pants. I jerk my head toward him.

  “What?”

  “It’s going to blow up!”

  My heart stops.

  My body takes over then. I drop the rifles with a clatter, plunge through the door, and leap from the porch. The moment they spot the explosive in my hands, the few remaining soldiers scatter, forgetting all formality as they struggle to get out of the bomb’s radius before the blast. And then, I race past them. Against the fuzzy background, I see their frightened faces transform with confusion in the breezy whirlwind of my wake. They grip their rifles, glancing nervously at each other. But I’m gone, whisking past the homes of the villagers who peek out at the fumbling soldiers with fear in their faces. And this gives me all the more reason to get this thing out of Jordan.

  The ticking against my palm drives me to push for the next level. It could explode right in the palm of my hands—a Vortex device. An Eden-killer? My panic shoves me into overdrive, and in a matter of minutes, I’m miles away from the village. I hear the roaring of the river long before I see it. I screech to a halt and fling the explosive with all my strength in the direction of the river, hoping it makes it over the expanse and toward the barren other side. It flies in a speedy arc across the sky.

  The bomb explodes, rattling the ground. But Jordan is safe. I sink to my knees, and watch the black cloud of smoke rise up over the trees.

  Berg’s army immediately goes on high alert. He surrounds the perimeter of the village with shoulder to shoulder men, determined to keep me out—or in. I hear the buzzing talk from my hiding place in a nearby copse of trees. They don’t know where I am, which is to my advantage. But I also learn that every house in the village will be searched, and I’m riddled with guilt.

  I press my back against the trunk of a tree and slide down out of sight. I can’t go back—at least not before dark. I’ve put all of Jordan in danger. I blow air through my parted lips.

  This is terrible.

  My fingertip burns where I touched the gooey liquid. It isn’t healing, and neither are the burns on my upper arm or my chest. The bullet ripped a hole through my shirt, and the material, crusted with blood and goo, sticks to my skin. I decide I should be concerned for a split second, and then push the thought out of my mind. There’s nothing I can do about it at this point anyway.

  I pick up a stick, toy with it, roll it between my palms. My mind is thick and fuzzy with worry over Kate. She was so confused; it scared me. And where is she? Was Aaron able to get her to safety?

  I scratch her name clumsily in the dirt as I recall her frightened eyes pinned on me. She didn’t know who I was, and a raw sadness grips me at that revelation. I have never wanted to talk to her more than I do at this moment. She always manages to say what I need to hear exactly when I need to hear it.

  Right now . . . I need to hear it.

  I squeeze the stick until it cracks, and I lean my head back against the trunk.

  A shout explodes from the line of soldiers. My biceps strain tightly as Fear rises to mock me. A tear squeezes itself out from beneath my lashes and races down my cheek. Furiously, I brush it away.

  “I’ve shifted,” I whisper, but it’s closer to a whimper. It causes me to tense even more. “I won’t let you scare me now.”

  Deep within, Fear laughs, and I shudder. The fight has taken a momentary recess, my wounds burn with a fire that flares and eases intermittently, and one lingering thought won’t let go.

  I don’t want to die.

  I raise my head. My lip trembles, but in the trembling a shame rumbles like a trapped animal in my bowels. I’m from Eden. We’re a proud people—superior to Outsiders—and everything about us makes us special. It’s what I’ve been taught all my life.

  But the legacy is built on lies. Aside from what I’ve learned from Penelope, an army coming up against us proves it. And as much as I love my family—as hard as I will fight to save them—I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know how I will feel if I ever see my parents again.

  I sigh. It doesn’t matter that I outraced those bullets, either. It doesn’t matter how strong I am. I’m still scared.

  For a brief moment, I consider praying. I even close my eyes to begin a prayer before I stop myself. Prayer may work for Penelope, but what do I say? I don’t know how to pray.

  I peer up at the sky, my insides hollow. “Why would you listen to me, anyway, if you even exist,” I mumble. “Why would you care?”

  I suddenly realize how ridiculous I must sound speaking at nothing. I half-laugh, and then I rear my shoulders with resolve.

  “You don’t exist.”

  A whisper like the sound of wind swishes through me.

  Ian, my son. But I do.

  My blood freezes, and my eyes dart around looking for the voice. The tall trees stand at attention all around me in the small woods that outline one edge of Jordan—silent but for the twittering of a bird overhead.

  The stillness surrounding me is deafening. I scratch my head. I’m losing it.

  The sun begins to set, and my hunger nudges me. I haven’t eaten all day. No wonder I’m hearing things.

  With a sigh, I bounce to my haunches and squeeze my eyes closed.

  Instinctively, my fists tighten, and I lean my forearm against the tree. The woods grow darker, and the long shadows of the trees stretch out across the ground. An ache deep inside crouches with me until I think I might break in half. And like the pages of a book, my mind begins an incessant flipping through the events of the past months. I’m trapped in a pit. I’m falling to my death. I’m stabbed. The weight of a dying baby on my chest suffocates me. Intermingled with it is my mother’s knowledge of the river, my father’s assurance that exposing babies to toxin is beneficial to Eden’s cause. And Kate...

  We’re standing at the overhang above the river. Just before she fell, she looked straight at me.

  Just before I left her at Penelope’s, she looked straight at me.

  Both images haunt me.

  I can’t think anymore.

  I close my mind down and bolt off through the trees, the dry grass shuffling up behind me. I need to decompress.

  I need a plan.

  I pick up speed, and the scenery blurs. Dust and twigs kick up behind me like small whirlwinds. Before long, I’m miles from the village, and I slow my pace and then halt completely, hands on hips. My breathing is steady, and I bask in the utter silence, enjoying a moment alone, away from the dangers of death. I raise my face to the sky.

  I hear a voice again, and after a moment of panic, I realize it’s a real voice. A human voice a few yards away. I quickly dip behind a tree and perk up listening to the mumbling conversation. I take a chance and peek around the trunk.

  There are two of them. In the growing shadows, I catch the golden V-shape of the Vortex insignia. One of them is young—possibly younger than me. His hair curls up against the nape of his neck under his helmet. I watch his movements as he settles the rifle against his shoulder, then holds it in both hands, finger hovering over the trigger with noticeable inexperience. He looks at his partner, adjusts his stance to match, mimicking the older soldier’s moves.

  He’s in training.

  The older soldier has dark skin and broad shoulders. He reeks of confidence in a cocky sort of way, and it reflects in how he holds his head, chin tilted upward. Their voices are muffled by the distance. I watch as he takes his own rifle, cracks off the magazine with a jarring flick of his hand, and shows the younger how to reload. The younger man nods and follows suit, copying his trainer as he angles the weapon so that it snaps back into place.

  I zip through the shadows, pausing a few trees closer and straining to hear.

  “You’ll have it in no time, son. You’ve shown a lot of promise.”

  “Yes sir,” the younger one answers. He looks humbled by the compliment. “I’m anxious to fight the cause. I want to see those bastards go down, sir.”

  I hitch up onto my toes. A ten
se fury ruffles my skin. Whatever Eden has done—whatever we stand for suddenly becomes trivial in light of the lives that could be lost if we don’t shut this siege down. I suddenly feel that unyielding obligation invade. To defend home. To protect my family. To uphold the Code and in this way protect the other villages, too.

  I ready myself to attack, but a flash of movement stops me. I blink, and the older soldier disappears, pulled backwards through a mass of trembling bushes. Alert, I pause, a hand against the tree. The younger soldier, terror plastered across his face, spins in a measured circle, his gun pointed at an invisible attacker with each turn. Another turn, and he finds himself nose to nose… with Max.

  A wave of elation rolls over me at the sight of him.

  Max!

  His hand jets out and yanks the gun from the soldier’s frightened grasp.

  “I’ll take that,” he says with a curt nod.

  The soldier’s eyes go wide as he takes in the giant physique full of ribbed muscles. The top of his head barely reaches the center of Max’s chest. A look of painful uncertainty flashes through the poor kid’s eyes, and one boot slides backwards across the dirt as he eases away from Max. I see it all over his face: he’s about to bolt, and I stifle a laugh. The butt of the gun stops him with a hard thunk against his skull, and he crumples to the ground.

  Max stares down at him, the gun still leveled in his grip. Jesse emerges from the bushes, a satisfied grin stretched across this face.

  “Two more down,” he chirps, dusting his palms together. A long strand of thick rope is coiled over one shoulder. He has the other soldier’s rifle tucked up under his armpit, and with the motion, it swings up and down where it’s pinned against his side. “See? We got this.”

  Max returns the smile, and I take this moment to jog out from behind the tree. They both stiffen, ready for a fight until they see that it’s me.

  “Ian! Duuude . . .”

  Jesse deposits the rifle and tackles me, a rough arm around my neck. Another second, and he lifts me into the air and tosses me over his shoulder. A long overdue laugh bursts out of me. Am I glad to see these two?

  “Put me down, man,” I thump his back twice and reach back to tug his cap off his head. He drops me and grabs for it. Max, grinning widely, bumps his knuckles into mine.

  “Where the heck have you been?” Jesse tosses a glance at the inert soldier. Bending, he scoops him up by his armpits. “Hold that thought while I get this guy situated with his friend over there.”

  He drags the soldier toward the bushes.

  “Where’s he taking them?” I toss my chin in Jesse’s direction as the young soldier’s feet disappear into the overgrowth.

  “To gag them. Tie them up. Then let them rot unless someone finds them first.”

  A scowl accompanies his answer. I nod in fierce agreement.

  “They deserve a lot worse,” I say.

  His eyes shift. “Have you seen it, then?”

  I tilt my head. “Seen what?”

  “The dead bodies. Expedition parties making their way back to Eden. Killed and left to rot out in the sun.”

  I cringe in horror. The image paints itself in my brain.

  “Which expeditions?” I ask with trepidation.

  “Hard to say,” Max shrugs with a grimace. “They were pretty decomposed by the time we came upon them. The smell was unbearable. But one of the parties had come from Shiloh. There were empty water barrels with the dead.”

  We’re silent a moment.

  “So what happened to you?” Max’s deep voice is low and calm. He tilts the rifle up against his shoulder. “Jeb said you just disappeared.”

  I shake my head and focus on Jesse as he makes his way back to us.

  “Kate got shot,” I begin. Max furrows his brow. Jesse blows air through his teeth and raises his cap slightly before settling it back into place. I indicate the rifle Max still grips. “With one of these. She fell into the river, so I had no choice. I went in after her and headed straight for Jordan. Justin’s aunt fixed her up.”

  “She’s going to be all right?” Jesse asks. I nod rapidly.

  “Still healing, but yeah.”

  I bite my lip at the thought of her. Both of them nod, relieved.

  “Where is she?” Max asks.

  “She was at Penelope’s. I don’t know now. I hope she’s safe.”

  “We’ve made camp back that way,” Jesse indicates thumbing toward the south. “We’ve been there for a few days now, taking them out as they come along.”

  “Really?” I lift a brow. “How many?”

  We walk. Jesse shrugs and looks to Max.

  “Twenty-six, right?”

  Max punches out his bottom lip in thought. “Twenty-nine, I think. Remember the ones by the bridge?”

  “Oh, yeah. Forgot.”

  I stare at them. “So what are you guys doing with them?”

  Max sets his eyes on me firmly. “Whatever we have to do.”

  “The main thing is,” Jesse interjects. He reaches down and takes up the other rifle. “We have to get these away from them.”

  “Yeah. That’s the only way we can fight them at the moment.” I shift my feet. “They’re forcing the blacksmiths in Jordan to make these guns.”

  They both stare at me, dumbfounded.

  “Great,” Jesse growls.

  One burning question remains. I lift my chin. “Have you . . . killed any?”

  Even asking makes me feel uneasy, although I’ve threatened to kill them myself. But a threat is not an action. Max and Jesse exchange a glance without a word. It’s answer enough.

  “Right.” There’s no energy in my response.

  “To be honest,” Max tightens his fingers around the barrel of the gun. “There’s something in me kind of itching for it.”

  Jesse nods in agreement and takes a firm grasp on my shoulder, shaking me once with a grin. I feel the heat of his hand right through my shirt. It’s hotter than usual, and an uncomfortable burning sensation makes me squirm out from under his grip. I study Max’s eyes. There’s a glint in the darkness—an “un-Max-like” glint. I slowly swing my head to examine Jesse. His eyes, too, look different. They seem to be swimming, small flecks of movement rippling in the color. The Serum. It makes me uneasy.

  Is this what I look like, too? Intense, with war in my eyes? I felt it back at the house, facing Berg. A deep urge to defend, to protect my own, at all cost. Is this what I see in them?

  I know it is. We’ll all do what we have to do to uphold the Code. It’s imprinted on us, and I can feel it clicking in my bones as the Serum surges through me. I reach for the rifle Jesse holds, pop off the magazine. I dump a couple rounds into my hand and examine the bullets. I haven’t seen many in my lifetime. Only the guards regularly carry guns in Eden, but I’m certain our bullets are nothing like these. The casing is see-through—like glass—and filled with the deadly thick, white liquid. The sharp-ended point is metal. I raise it in the light to see it more clearly.

  “We’ve gotten close enough to Eden to scout things out,” Jesse says. “They haven’t breached the wall. Not yet. They set up camp all around the area. Tents and lean-tos. Some of the generals had small makeshift buildings constructed. From the looks of it, they plan to stay until this thing is finished one way or the other.” He kicks the toe of his boot at the dirt. “And you won’t believe what we saw.”

  I shift my eyes from him to Max. After all I’ve witnessed, I doubt they can shock me anymore.

  “Parachutes,” Max finishes. “Men gliding down right out of the sky, like they did during the Fall.”

  I nod.

  “A few planes have flown over Jordan lately. It’s really happening,” I whisper. “This could be war.”

  “Yeah,” Jesse agrees. “But is Eden ready? Did they really prepare us for this? I think we’re being tested in the biggest way.”

  “With no man power,” Max adds. He shifts the rifle absently to lean against his other shoulder. “Unless Eden can co
me up with some military strategy from the inside out, we’re pretty much screwed.”

  “We watched all day yesterday.” Jesse adjusts his cap again, a worried expression wrinkling his face. “These guys are building something to blow up the wall. Our people shuttered the dome. It’s holding, but I’m not sure for how much longer.”

  I bite my lip and roll the bullets around in my palm.

  “What about Jeb and his team?”

  “They’ve crossed. By the time we met up with them, they’d already taken out about fifteen soldiers by the river.” Jesse points at the rifle in my hand. “We’re burying every weapon we take from them—bullets separate from guns. The less they have, the better.”

  “Good,” I say. “Maybe now we can find out what this stuff is.” I run a hand through my hair. “What about Justin?”

  “He and Liza took Diana to Scarlet Forest with the rest of Jeb’s team. It’s the only place not overrun by soldiers. Yet. We didn’t see Justin when we came through.”

  I lose myself in thought a moment.

  “Do you remember the guard I told you about?” I toss a glance from Jesse to Max.” The one who helped me get out through the tunnels?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He told me about an elite team called the Rovers.”

  They both eye me curiously.

  “It’s a secret expedition team. Classified. Kyle was hoping to transfer once his guard tour was up. I think you two need to find them.”

  “Why are they classified?” Max asks.

  “Because they’re spies.”

  Max and Jess exchange a glance before Jesse squints with his usual skepticism. I study my friends as everything I’ve learned from Penelope—every minute detail that is fresh and new and still trying to sink in—bounces around inside my brain. It’s going to be me who has to break it to them. And Jesse, as usual is going to be a hard sell.

  “You’re sure these Rovers exist?” Max asks.

  “Not officially. But I don’t think Kyle would lie to me. He has a lot of integrity.” I pause, and then I nod. “I trust him. And I think if we can find the Rovers, we find the beginning of our military force.”