The Wanted (The Woodlands Series Book 4)

by Lauren Nicolle Taylor

  I could feel it. The pain. The fear. The regret. Repeating. But worse than that, I could see Joseph’s reaction when he realized what I’d done.

  The worst thing I’d ever done.

  The best thing I’d ever done.

  He crumbled; he looked like someone had reached inside and pulled his heart out.

  “What have you done?” the Joseph in the video asked.

  But I didn’t answer. I was dead.

  I died.

  Emotions choked me as each one fought for release, and sobbing rattled in my throat.

  The video went black, and I sighed in relief. But the anguish remained in me. I still felt the knife as it went in and the pain that started to ebb away so quickly as I pulled it out, because my life was leaving me. I remembered the blink and the absolute panic of knowing it was over. I was over.

  I closed my eyes and wept.

  Until I heard Este’s voice, high and shrill, squawking from the screen, her thin frame teetering in those red heels. “I d-don’t want b-b-blood on the carpets.”

  My eyes snapped open.

  The video was on loop.

  It had been three hours. Three hours of dying. My limbs shook and bounced against my restraints, my face hot but my blood lounging slowly in my veins like it was tired. I was so tired.

  After the first hour, the panic started to strangle me. I tried closing my eyes but the noises were almost worse than the video. Instead, I started to focus on the details in the background, like Deshi’s face drowning in horror, his arms drawn up over his body when the clatter and clanging began. He moved a few steps towards me before it happened, but when he saw the knife go in, he froze and then disappeared from the shot.

  The guard that stabbed me looked as scared as everyone else. You could tell he didn’t mean to do it. His round face, spotted with freckles, shook slowly from side to side in disbelief. When he released his hold on the knife, he stepped back from me and glanced down at his hands like they were separate from him. Small monsters.

  In one moment, everything was ruined.

  The video played and etched itself permanently into my brain. It stretched and pushed until there was nothing else in there but violence, pain, and blood.

  It was damaging me, rummaging through my brain like a vandal, picking out the good memories, scrunching them into a ball and tossing them away.

  When the guards and Mr. Hun finally re-entered the room, they could ask no questions. I was a useless heap. Sapped of anything. My mouth could form no words.

  They untied my hands, and they fell limply in my lap. My eyes stung, my mouth dry, my arms and legs pieces of wood tied loosely together in a messy clatter.

  Harry carried me back to my room. I clung to him. Pressed my cheek to his chest and refused to look up. He opened the door with his foot and knelt down, rolling me out of his arms and onto the carpet as if he were dumping an armful of firewood.

  When the door wouldn’t shut, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Miss,” as he pushed my body forward with his foot until it was out of the way so it would close.

  JOSEPH

  Maybe burying is the answer. Maybe if I pile enough earth, blood, and experience on top of them, I won’t be able to hear them screaming or hear the ‘ha’ that forms around her last breath.

  A weak ping rang out far below. Elise grabbed my arm and squeezed. “What was that, was it a…?”

  “Gunshot,” I replied, straightening and leaning forward.

  Several shots fired close together. We couldn’t see much from here, just a cluster of black, bobbing heads atop the wall, crossing under the spotlights. The lights moved frantically over the grey ground around the base of the walls. I caught what I thought were two people, running away. But I couldn’t be sure, the light moved over them so quickly.

  Another shot.

  I strained to see, both of us leaning dangerously close to the edge.

  “Do you think they’re…?” She sounded alarmed, the pitch of her voice creeping up higher and higher.

  “No,” I grunted, “but let’s go back to the others. They might need our help.” I held out my hand, which she gripped tightly, and helped her climb back down to the cave. We slid down the rocks, tripping over each other as we went. I kept my eye to Radiata. The lights danced across the dirt. Then very suddenly, they turned inwards. I tightened my fist and pumped it once. They did it. Something was causing a disturbance inside the walls.

  We swung into the cave, and everyone was getting ready to go.

  “Did you hear the shots?” I said, out of breath.

  Gus nodded, his voice as calm and blunt as ever. “We did. That’s why we’re leaving.”

  Desh’s arms went slack by his sides, his face tangled in confusion. “What about Matt and Ermil?”

  Gus shook his head. He did, for once, look truly sorry. “We can’t risk it.”

  I moved right up to where Gus was standing, looming over him. “The lights turned inwards. I think the video is working. They might not have anyone following them.” Gus looked up at me in annoyance, and I took a step back. Then he dropped his head and swore.

  “You go then,” he ordered, flinging his arm out towards Radiata. He picked up a backpack full of medical supplies and shoved it at my chest, avoiding my eyes.

  “Take this, you’ll need it. We’ll wait for you five miles south of here.”

  I held the pack against my pounding heart with shaking hands. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “We can’t wait for very long, Joseph,” Gus said, his voice full of regret.

  I could feel Desh’s eyes burning into my back. “I’m not coming with you, am I?” he said to the back of my head.

  I shook my head. I wanted him to come but it would just be risking his life so I didn’t have to be alone.

  His hand clapped my shoulder. “Be careful.”

  Rash brushed past and stopped suddenly, turning to glance up at me. His eyebrows drew down, his anger hiding for the moment. “Yeah man, be careful.” He then threw over his shoulder, “If you die, we’ve lost our punchline.”

  Gus grumbled and searched the back of the cave, singling one person out.

  “Elise, you’ll go with Joseph,” Gus ordered.

  “What? No!” I protested

  “She goes or you don’t go at all,” he growled.

  She grabbed her own pack and strode out of the entrance to the cave.

  “Don’t slow me down,” she snapped as she quickly descended, her white blonde hair glowing as she skidded down the mountainside towards Radiata.

  I jumped over several packs and followed her. “I’ll see you soon, Desh. Don’t worry, ok?” I pleaded.

  Elise was quick on her feet, moving from stone to stone, avoiding the slippery parts that were mostly gravel and watery mud. I struggled to keep up, but I wasn’t going to ask her to slow down.

  “If they’re injured, it’s probably gunshot wounds. Have you ever treated a gunshot before, Joseph?” She clasped a small tree trunk and paused, turning towards me.

  “No. But I’ve studied them,” I replied between breaths.

  She snorted. “Not the same thing, honey,” she puffed as she started running again.

  I couldn’t even be offended by her patronizing comments because she was probably right. Setting my lips together, I chose silence for the rest of the way down, running over procedures in my head and praying Matt was all right.

  The sirens grew in volume and frequency as we descended.

  The steep hill flattened suddenly, and we slowed our pace. Charred trees poked out of the ground with tiny, struggling branches pushing their way through the ruined bark. Life always finds a way, she would say. I ran my hand over one of the delicate new branches, feeling it bend between my fingers.

  I heard a groan. In the half-light, trees looked like men stuck in the ground. Elise paused and we searched for movement, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.

  An arm moved.

  “Hold on, Erm, just hold o
n,” a voice whispered.

  We ran towards the sound, our feet squelching in the puddles as we approached. I grabbed a flashlight from my pack and flicked it on. It swished over an agonized face, eyes tightened against pain.

  Matt sighed in relief. “Joe, thank God it’s you.”

  I kneeled down and swept the torch over where the two men were sitting. Ermil lay flat on his back. Matt had wrapped his shirt around a wound in Ermil’s calf and was shivering uncontrollably in the cold while trying to apply pressure.

  Matt’s other hand was clenched in a fist. This hand had blood seeping out from between the fingers like he was squeezing a sponge.

  “Oh Jesus, Matt, what happened?” I took off my jacket and placed it over Matt’s shaking shoulders. He opened his hand; it was a mess off torn skin and blood.

  “F-flesh wound,” he stuttered, “s-superficial. They were following us but then got called back. R-riots.”

  Elise stood over me with her hands on her hips, triaging. “Right. Wrap a bandage around Matthew’s hand to stop the bleeding. We need to look at this guy’s leg,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  I carefully wrapped Matt’s hand, pulling it tight.

  “My fingertips are numb, Joe,” he said in a broken voice.

  I knew he was thinking nerve damage. I knew he was thinking he may not be able to operate again, but I just placed his bandaged hand in his lap and said, “You’re just cold, that’s all.”

  He nodded in thanks. There was no point in worrying about it now.

  Matt held the torch while we laid out our instruments and moved Ermil’s leg over a sterile sheet of plastic.

  We cut his pant leg off until the wound was exposed. Ermil was lucky; the bullet had gone straight through the fleshy part of his calf. It hadn’t hit the bone, which meant he would heal better. The problem was that it had left a giant hole that was pouring blood, making it very hard to see what was going on.

  “Lift his leg above his heart level,” Matt instructed. We rolled the backpack under the plastic and then under Ermil’s leg.

  “Pressure,” I ordered, my voice tight as a coil, my brain doing what it loved, what it knew.

  Elise nodded and grabbed a gauze pad, pushing down on both sides of the wound. Ermil moaned in pain as she applied pressure.

  “You’ll have to stitch the artery,” Matt muttered in our direction, hoping Ermil was too out of it to hear him.

  Ermil’s head snapped up suddenly. No luck there. “Are you serious?” he said through gritted teeth.

  All the doctors’ eyes connected knowingly.

  Elise held the torch over the wound as she removed the gauze. Blood bubbled up. “Hold it still so I can find the source of the bleeding,” I said, my eyes connecting with hers.

  Matt shuffled closer and dabbed as much blood away from the wound as he could. I sterilized my hands with hand sanitizer and alcohol wipes, pushing my fingers into Ermil’s calf. He started to scream, and Matt put his hand to Ermil’s mouth.

  “I know it’s hard but you have to be quiet, so they won’t find us,” he whispered.

  Ermil’s eyes were bugging out of his head but he managed to nod, and Matt released him. He gripped Matt’s leg desperately, searching for comfort.

  “It’s going to be ok, Ermil. We won’t leave you,” I said quietly.

  Warm blood ran over my fingers as I fished around for the torn artery. It was a strange, reassuring feeling: The flesh under my fingertips, the work that needed to be done. This was part of me.

  I thought I could feel it and I moved upwards, tracing the artery, and then pushed down hard to stop the blood flow.

  “Suction,” I said automatically.

  Elise laughed.

  Matt understood what I meant and dabbed at the blood to see if it had slowed. We all relaxed a little when we realized it had.

  “Quickly, sterilize your hands,” I said to Elise.

  “Already did, Doctor.” She anticipated what I needed and moved her hand over to where mine was, sliding her finger into place behind mine and pushing down.

  “How long before they take their fingers out of my leg?” Ermil gasped to Matt, his face sheened with sweat, his skin pale as the moon.

  Matt flipped open the suture kit with his good hand. “You’ll have to tie it, Joe. I can’t,” he said, holding up his injured hand.

  Everything fell into place. My actions, my breathing, my timing. It was natural. I tied the artery easily, swiftly. I was at home with the needle in my hand.

  I leaned back on my heels and stared down at the wound.

  “Ready?” Elise asked all of our intensely focused faces, lit up by torchlight.

  I nodded. “Do it.”

  Elise lifted her fingers, and we waited for blood.

  Matt dabbed away at the wound again. It seeped a little, but it wasn’t pouring anymore.

  My shoulders sank a few inches, my body relaxed. Elise threw an arm around my neck and pulled our heads together so they knocked. “Well done. We make a good team.”

  Matt smiled. “You certainly do.”

  Ermil even managed a half-grimace, half-smile. “So I’m not going to die?”

  I chuckled, something warm and unfamiliar growing in my chest, blotting out the sadder feelings. “Not today.”

  Cleaning his wound, we wrapped it tightly. We would have to carry him up the hill, but he would live. He would walk. We did that.

  It was an amazing feeling.

  Misery had been following me. I had been uninvolved and uninterested in everything around me.

  No more.

  As I packed up our gear, tumbling the bloodied gauze and dirty needles into the plastic sheeting, she came back to me. I tied a knot around the top and shoved the waste into a hole at the bottom of a tree, my hands scraping on the charcoal and coming back all black and slimy. I hadn’t thought of her through that whole process. And I was ashamed to say that it felt good to forget.

  “You coming?” Elise asked, turning around with Ermil’s arm over her shoulder as she supported his weight.

  I smiled a genuine smile at her. “I’m coming.”

  She seemed surprised but she returned my smile with a toothy one of her own, her freckles pushing high up under her eyes.

  The sun rose over the peaks to our right. Shafts of light slipped through the crags of rock and poured through the brittle trees as I jogged to catch up to them. I slung Ermil’s other arm over my shoulder, and Matt took my pack.

  We did a good job last night. Apella would have been proud of me.

  We saved someone’s life. That had to count for something, push the peg forward one short inch.

  I left any other feelings behind, jammed into that tree with the blood and contaminated instruments.

  ROSA

  I wish I could hate you. I want to hate you for leaving me here.

  I HATE you.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  The door eased over the carpet. My face pressed against the floor, my knees folded over as if I were praying. I focused on the tiny little threads, bending, waving like red grass as the wood swept over the top. I would hold my heart hostage to lie in grass right now. I wanted the frozen spikes digging into my back. I wanted the melted snow to seep into my clothes.

  I didn’t want to feel dead, to relive dying.

  A polished shoe wedged in the gap and Red’s legs, body and face appeared. She glowered from her position above me. I hadn’t moved in hours. It had taken me this long to remember how to breathe properly, to pull myself from a very real nightmare.

  “I have to take you downstairs,” she whispered regretfully, her countenance changing. Pity grimed the corners of her mouth. I had no energy to dislike her face. I was stretched past caring.

  I turned my forehead to the carpet, rubbing it back and forth slowly. “Where’s Harry?” I murmured, my lips picking up pieces of carpet fluff.

  Red’s voice was warmer than I expected, but disappointed as well. “Harry has been
repurposed. He, er, wasn’t suited to this position. You need to get up, Miss Rosa. I have to take you downstairs again.”

  Again.

  I blinked, and tears met the carpet.

  “You’ll have to help me up,” I whispered. I couldn’t take another step. I couldn’t willingly walk back in there.

  She knelt down, a ladder in her stockings stretched wide over her knee as her weight pressed into the floor. She hooked her arms under mine and pulled me up. “Let’s go.”

  I didn’t answer. Most of me was still on the floor.

  I love you.

  Don’t forget.

  Please don’t have already forgotten.

  They strapped me down in the chair again. They asked the questions again. I refused to answer them again. They pressed play again.

  My soul coiled inside my body, winding round and round in a tight dressing— protecting me, shielding me.

  Este’s voice, high and shrill, squawked from the screen, her thin frame teetering in those red heels. “I d-don’t want b-b-blood on the carpets.”

  I closed my eyes and listened to the rest. I knew it by heart now. This was unnecessary. These images would never leave me.

  “What have you done?” Joseph asked. I opened my eyes, waiting for the screen to go black and start at the beginning again.

  But it didn’t. This was the after part. The part I didn’t remember because I was already gone.

  A squeal, hard and piercing. Este stood on the tiles, her hands straight at her sides, her fingers anchored to her thighs. So taut, so distressed. Joseph leaned down to my body, his hands shaking. Before he could touch my neck to check for a pulse, a guard jumped on his back, his arms wrapped tightly around Joseph’s throat.