by Casey Hays
“Can’t sleep?”
She shakes her head.
“Look at all those stars,” she whispers. “I feel as though I’ve never seen them before.”
My eyes follow. The sky is brilliantly clear and dotted with millions of sparkling diamonds on a velvet belt. The breeze rustles. An owl hoots. The stars shine, and creation has never looked so beautiful. A painting and a musical score . . . and God’s hand in all of it.
“It’s pretty amazing,” I agree.
“I’ve been reading about the creation.”
Her pouch sits next to her. Diana kept it with her the whole time she and Kate were separated. Kate lugs it into her lap and digs out the Scriptures. Flashlight poised, she reads.
“And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark the seasons and days and years . . . and let them give light on the earth.’ And it was so. God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars."
She stops reading, and she points.
“There’s the Archer. See him? Just there.”
I follow her finger, barely make out the twinkling points of the bow, and I nod.
“You were right.” She wraps her fingers around my bicep, her eyes glued on the stars. “God made the Archer, and he has no power to do anything except what God tells him to do.” She smiles. “Which is limited to shining.”
She faces me, her dark eyes soft with contentment. They’re different, so different from when I first saw them all those months ago. Back then, they were scared eyes, afraid to hope. Afraid to believe in something for fear of being disappointed in what she might find. But the fear is gone. It’s how I know this is real.
I caress my thumb over her cheek until she closes her eyes, and I do the same, pressing my forehead to hers.
“I know we’re on the brink of a war.” She changes the subject so quickly that I pull back to look at her. “I know you plan to fight if they let you. And I’ve come to terms with this.” She pauses, her eyes gliding up toward the sky again. “It’s strange. We’re surrounded by so much danger, and I feel safe for the first time in my life. Because we’re also surrounded by everything God made, and why should we fear when we believe in such power?”
I trace the outline of her features, glowing softly on one side of her face, shadowed on the other, and I understand exactly what she means. For me, it’s a rock deep in the bottom of my soul, and it’s solid and firm and immovable—an anchor holding me down like a paper weight through all the turmoil and wind and waves that keep rolling over me. I can’t blow away, float away, fall away. I can’t explain it, either, but I know it’s there, and I know it’s an unshakeable promise. And I know this is what she feels.
“We shouldn’t fear,” I answer.
She arches up, kisses me, and lays her head against my shoulder, and I love how I don’t have to explain anything to her.
“Perfect love drives out fear,” she says. “I read that today, too. Yeshua showed us what love looks like. I didn’t know before.”
My eyes drift upward to take in all of the sparkling heavens stretched out above us. The proof of God’s love is in everything. I smile.
“How’s John?” I whisper.
“Better. Penelope had to stitch him, and she says he has a concussion, possibly a broken rib or two. Lots of bruises and swelling.” She smiles. “It looks as if he fell over the side of a cliff and landed in the river.”
I laugh softly. “That bad?”
Her smile fades. “He followed after us.”
“Yep,” I nod. “Are you glad?”
Her brow creases. “I don’t know. I thought I would be, but in light of what we’re facing…”
“Well, it’s too late for that kind of thinking,” I sigh. “He’s here.”
She settles against me with a sigh, and I close my eyes and sink into her closeness, and we’re still sitting just like this when the guys come back to crash. And the moon is high in the sky drowning out the light of the stars before I finally kiss Kate goodnight and crawl into my tent.
The sound of gunfire fills my ears, tapping out a nightmare symphony in my brain. Shouts. More gunfire. I muddle through the fogginess of sleep, looking for a way to the surface.
“Ian! Ian, wake up!”
Justin’s voice comes at me through a tunnel. And the thunder of an explosion rattles the ground beneath me. I jerk upright and scramble to my knees.
“What’s going on?” I rub at my eyes. Justin is gone.
Another clap of thunderous booming seems to shake the whole earth. I stumble to my feet, rip my way out of the tent, and struggle to keep my balance as the scene outside invades my barely conscious mind with sudden shock.
Trees burn like orange torches against a black backdrop. The stars are gone, and the sky is pluming with thick smoke. People stumble around in a panic, leaning on each other for support, gasping for breath in the foggy air. My shock soars higher when I spot Jesse and Max heave a flaming tree off the top of a man from Jordan. They stare down at his charred body afterwards with blank faces while his wife, holding her broken arm against her side, falls to the ground in a heap and sobs.
Coughing, I grab my bow and stumble to Kate’s tent as another rumble shakes under my feet. I crash to my knees, drag myself upright. Kate crawls out through the flap, loses her balance and topples to the ground. Seconds late, Diana struggles out on all fours. I reach them just as something crashes behind the closest tree. In a flash, I throw myself over the girls, toppling them to the ground as the tree explodes spraying my back with splinters. Most of them get stuck in my shirt, but more than a few make it through to pierce my skin. I wince against the sharp pain, struggle to my feet, and pull the girls up.
The sky explodes with sound, and the belly of a plane comes into view over the treetops, low and loud. We stare, glued to our spots, until a gust of wind blows us backwards, and I hit the ground hard, the splinters biting deeper.
“Ian!” Justin takes my wrist and pulls me to my feet. His black hair blows all around on top of his head, and he ducks instinctively. “We gotta find cover!”
He yells above the noise of the plane as it circles back and splatters the area with bullets, missing us by only yards in the dark. Diana screams, and Kate wraps a protective arm around her. They hunch over together to avoid the blasting air.
A line of Rovers streams out of the grove, armed with their standard Eden-issued rifles and angry grimaces. Some take position at the edge of the trees; others move on as one unit toward the outskirts of the forest ready to defend. I scan the grove, my heart pounding. Injured, broken people from Jordan—wailing. Dead bodies with faces blow off, limbs missing. The stench of burning flesh fills my nostrils, and I see one of the Rovers dead, white liquid oozing from his blackened chest. I swallow my bile; Kate gulps back a sob, reaching for my arm. I pull her into my chest and glance at Justin over her head.
“This is why we haven’t seen any soldiers!” I yell. “They cleared out because they were planning this!”
Justin nods. Diana is weeping, her eyes scanning the horror around us. Justin pulls her toward him; she buries her face in his chest.
“Where’s Penelope?” I ask.
He scans the grove, and we see Claudia and Aaron at the same time. The trees are lit up behind them, and Claudia cups her hands around her mouth and yells for her nephew.
“Thomas! Thomas, where are you!” Her voice strains with panicked desperation.
Aaron’s face is a mixture of worry and irritation. Penelope keeps to the trees—the ones that aren’t on fire— supporting John. He hangs limply, trying to stay standing between her and Liza, his eyes wide. Sophia is glued to Penelope’s other hip. Even from here, her eyes are two round orbs of fear.
“Thomas!” Claudia’s voice rings out, and Justin races for her.
“Get back!” he yells. “Get back. We’ll find hi
m!”
Aaron takes Claudia’s elbow, pulling her under cover. I sweep Kate and Diana up under the trees next to them, and Justin and I turn back to the gruesome scene playing out right before our eyes. Max and Jesse jog over.
“Let’s spread out. Look for Thomas. He can’t have gone far!” Justin hollers. We all nod and move deeper into the forest, separating at the edge.
Except for the burning trees, the rest of the forest is dark, and only grows darker with every step. I flip on my flashlight and slide my bow off my back, my eyes darting from tree to tree. The sound of a plane hums low in the distance.
“Thomas!”
A scurrying sound to my left, and I spin, arrow aimed. A squirrel scuttles up the trunk of a tree and disappears into the branches above. The plane soars over, doesn’t fire. My heart flips over, and I hold my breath until it passes.
“Thomas!” The sound of Justin’s voice echoes to my right. “Thomas, where are you?”
“Found him!” Jesse’s voice.
My skin breaks out in a prickling of relief. I crash through the trees until I meet up with them.
“Thomas,” I shake my head. “Chill on the escape artist stuff, would you?”
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t know we were gonna get bombed.”
Justin wades through the underbrush. “Let’s get him back.” He takes a firm hold on the little boy’s shoulder and steers him back toward the grove.
Claudia gathers him into her arms the minute she sees him, alternating between scolding and hugging until Thomas’s eyes well with fat tears, and he wipes a hand across his grimy face. Justin pulls Aaron over to speak with us. Liza steps up next to her cousin.
“You have to take them out of here,” Justin says.
Aaron nods. “We’ll try to make it to Gaza. Hopefully, the place isn’t overrun with soldiers.”
“I’ll go with them,” Liza offers. “Aunt Penelope’s abilities are out of practice. They could use me for protection. And—”
Another blast interrupts her and causes all of us to duck. Debris showers overhead, slowed only by the tall trees. Kate huddles next to Diana and John. I go to her.
“The war has begun for us.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a minute against the smoke, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. Kate looks up at me, and the fear is back, painted in shades of chocolate. I hug her to me, press my lips against her forehead, and pull back. “You’re going with Aaron.”
Her eyes flood with tears, but in the chaotic heat of the moment, she doesn’t argue. She rises up on her toes and kisses me. Her lips cling to mine, pressing deeper as a lone tear plucks itself free and races downward between the narrow space that separates our cheeks from each other. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s her tear or mine that falls.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear. She steps back, wiping her eyes and takes John’s arm. He pauses in front of me, juts out his hand toward me. I take it with a nod.
Aaron barks orders to his family, and they move into action, Claudia trudging ahead, her head down to avoid the smoke. She drags Thomas and Sophia along behind her, not daring to let go; Penelope gives Justin a quick hug, squeezes my arm.
“Be careful, both of you. I’ll be praying.”
I nod, lifting my chest with a new wave of confidence when she says it. She tosses her eyes from me to Justin with one final order.
“You get to your father, and you find a way to reach through that barrier of ambition he’s built. This has to stop.” She hones in on him. “He has to stop.”
Justin nods. Aaron takes her elbow. In the distance, the tattering of gunfire explodes. The sound of a plane rips through the air. With a final glance, Penelope turns away, and they join the pilgrimage of people who race away between the trees. Kate walks backwards, her eyes unblinking. I wave. She turns and disappears into the trees.
I face Justin. The battlefield waits for us.
I close my eyes for a brief second and say a silent prayer.
Chapter 33
T
he sky begins to lighten. On the perimeter of the forest, an explosion blasts. It shreds the tops of the trees to bits that shower downward. A black cloud of smoke billows up, and the sound of crashing, grating metal pierces our ears. What’s left of one plane slides into the trees, cracking the trunks. We leap out of the way as half the trees topple over with a splintering thud.
“They got one!” Jesse yells with a whoop. He bounces on his feet. “Come on!”
Adrenaline buzzing, we’re off, racing through the trees to the edge of the forest. The sun is rising, brightening the wide open field. A line of Rovers squats together in an organized huddle just inside a group of trees, weapons leveled at another plane circling out over the open field. It swoops around, heads back toward us, two Vortex pilots operating it. Rob gives the order, and one of the Rovers hoists a rocket launcher up onto his shoulder, shouting an affirmative reply. He holds steady until Rob yells, “Fire!” and the rocket is off, finding its target. The rear of the plane explodes into flames, followed by a full explosion in midair.
A roar of victory soars through the line of Rovers as they jump to their feet, fists raised, and my heart pumps out an excited beat.
“Whoa!” Jesse bounces, a wide grin spreading across his face. He rips his hat from his head. “Where in the heck did you guys get a rocket launcher?”
He nudges the Rover next him, but the guy glowers at him as if he’s a pesky insect and doesn’t answer. The Rover who fired the launcher looks up at Rob with a bleak expression.
“That was the last rocket.”
He throws the launcher aside and reaches for his rifle. Jesse scrambles to pick it up, running his hands gingerly across the body as if it’s his most cherished toy.
The sooty crease between Rob’s eyes deepens with concern. “There are two more planes still out there.”
“And that was still the last rocket,” the Rover confirms.
As if on cue, one plane barrels over the tops of the trees from behind us. We all turn, eyes upward, and on instinct, the Rovers fire their weapons. The bullets barely nick the undercarriage of the plane, and it returns fire, beating the ground. Two Rovers are shot down—one in the arm, the other in the leg. Their cursed yelps attack our ears. The plane circles out across the field, the belly littered with minor dents. I spot Jeb and a few of his team down the row. He raises a hand and stomps his way over.
“What do you want to do?” Evan Rice stands a foot behind Rob, his stance defensive. He never takes his eyes off the plane.
“If we can’t take down the plane, we have to take out the pilots,” Rob concludes. He pulls up to his feet, a deep grimace marked into his face. “It’s our only chance of shutting them down now.”
“How?” Evan questions. “Even as low as they fly, we’re barely grazing the glass of those windows. We can’t get a clear shot.”
Next to me, Jesse lifts the empty launcher, aims it, squinting up its edge with one eye closed. The plane circles back, and we jump for cover. In the growing light, I see the pilots on a clear line through the windows. They move in low, spray the ground with bullets, missing any targets, and clip upward and over the trees. The plane veers away and meets the other in the air.
“Now they’re just showing off,” Max says quietly.
“Yeah,” Justin agrees. “Like they think they’ve already won.” He nods toward the burning plane taken down by the rocket launcher. “That’s some bold confidence.”
I watch carefully, watch the dip of the wings. Watch how the pilots lean the machine slightly to the right and then the left with each turn. Watch how they swoop low—as low as they can get to the ground without touching it in the open field. I squeeze the grip of my bow and look at Rob.
“If you can break the glass, I can take out those pilots.”
He fixes his eyes on me, resting his weapon against his shoulder. “You shouldn’t even be here,” he growls. “And what are you talking a
bout?”
I raise my bow. “It’ll only take one shot.”
He huffs, amused. “You think you can take down that plane with a bow and arrow?” He shakes his head. “You and your friends need to step back. This is no time to become young heroes. Thinking like that will only get you dead.”
“I don’t mean to step over a line or anything,” Jeb interjects. “But for the record, I taught Ian how to hunt. He’s one of the best marksmen I’ve ever seen. Far better than me.”
Rob doesn’t answer. He glares at the big man and turns away, pacing the line of his men, his rifle tipped up against his shoulder. The downed plane smolders as flames lick the air. Disappointment rolls through me, but I rear back my shoulders.
“Rob,” I say. He turns. “See the big, black knothole at the base of that tree?” I point toward the tree that stands fifty yards away, whip an arrow from my quiver and ready my bow. “I’ll hit exactly an inch to the left.”
I peer down the length of the shaft with confidence and let the arrow fly. It hits the mark. Rob stands perfectly still, but his eyes flicker with interest. He frowns.
“That’s not a moving target.”
I look at Justin. He nods, scoops up a stick around the same width as the thickest section of my bow. With one heave, he tosses it up into the air in a spin. It whirls out of sight. I take aim, and wait. And all eyes watch the stick fall back into view. I fire. The stick lands, tumbling end over end a few yards and halts, my arrow embedded cleanly through the very center. I look at Rob. He peers at me,one brow raised, and scratches his head.
“Damn,” Evan whispers. He tosses an impressed glance at Jeb, who merely nods and strokes a hand down the length of his beard.
“Well, that makes me a believer.”
We turn at the voice. It’s Kyle. He steps out of the trees from behind, his boots crunching against the broken branches that litter the ground. He drops to one knee and takes position, rifle in hand. The corner of his eye twitches, as if it’s desperately trying not to look at me.