My head shook from side to side as I watched in dismay. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Joseph had been dead this whole time. The bottom fell out of everything. The floor rocked, the air swirled, and I knew I was going to be sick. But I couldn’t stop watching.
Joseph’s hands scrambled behind him, batting, grabbing, scratching at the guard. His eyes. They weren’t his eyes. They were hollow, angry, absent. He got a grip on the guard and threw him to the ground. I watched as the guard skidded backwards over the tiles and his head hit the wall. I would have heard a crack, if there weren’t so many other noises fighting for attention. Guards were coming at Joseph from every direction. Clawing, hitting, trying to pull him to the ground, but he was like a raging bull, his strength inhuman as he fought them off.
When his face flashed towards the camera, his eyes were still empty, and my body shuddered like a rickety shed in a storm.
A guard lifted the knife from the floor and held it out in front of him, my blood spitting from the end in splatters as his hand shook. He lunged at Joseph’s side but accidentally slashed at the forearm of the guard holding Joseph by the waist. That guard dropped to the floor, screaming, gripping his arm over an open wound that was spurting blood like a sprinkler. My stomach crept up into my mouth at all the blood, the violence that seemed endless. The guard with the knife didn’t seem to notice what he’d done and lunged at Joseph again. I gasped at the disconnection of these men grappling at each other, fighting for their lives, and Joseph, a body separate to his spirit, a hulk, a mass of rage.
There were two guards down. Este’s piercing-as-a-bullet squealing was a constant musical backdrop to the scene.
A shot cracked the air, and Joseph ducked down. But it was nowhere near him. It came from somewhere else out of frame. The squealing ceased like someone had pressed the mute button, and Este lay across the couch like a dismantled puppet.
It dazed the men for a second and then I lost them all in the mesh of muscle, weapons, and blood. Joseph held onto a guard’s hand tightly or around something… something black. I dug my nails into my palms, my body leaning forward and nearly pulling my chair over. I was a bird ready to take flight, straight into a wall.
Crack, crack, crack…
It didn’t sound like it should. It sounded like a whip, like lightning. I could almost smell the singe, the burn, and see the scalded earth. But it was not something natural; it was something men made to undo men.
I searched the pile of bodies, slumped in a circle around him. Joseph was covered in blood. He was breathing like he couldn’t get the air in quick enough, hunched over as if he were a seed that wouldn’t grow. The gun lagged in his hand, and then it dropped to the floor with an isolated, lonely clang.
What did I make you do?
I pulled at my restraints, thinking I might scream but knowing no one would come to my aid.
“What have you done?” Deshi asked in the screen, in a video I was struggling to believe was real, as he stood behind the bodies.
Joseph was lost. No color in his beautiful face save the color of others’ blood. He moved to my body, silent and motionless through the whole thing, and collapsed. I watched and felt every punch, every splinter as he beat the tiles over and over again with his fist. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to cry out, I wanted to reach inside the screen and hold him, but I couldn’t. I was lying there dead, and he was broken.
I broke him.
Everything shattered. A million tiny shards of ceramic the color of gold and dust rained over me.
I let out a moan. A shallow sound that was nothing. Nothing.
Mr. Hun pushed the door open. My eyes squinted at the light from the garage that didn’t belong in here. I wanted to steep in darkness. Disappear.
His voice was soft and sure. “See, dear. You’re protecting a murderer. Are you ready to talk now?”
My chin touched my chest, and I exhaled my soul in one breath. They would get nothing from me today.
I was done.
ROSA
I fell in the hall on the way back to my room, my limbs so wobbly I could barely stand. They folded under me like poorly made chair legs and crumbled together. Red sighed and nudged me with her toe. I felt like any touch would disintegrate my form. I was a case. Inside me were dust, un-smelled air, and waves of sadness. I pulled my legs under my body sluggishly and whimpered at her impatient prodding. The pain I felt was scattered over my skin, like a lagging electric shock.
I could feel her body warmth closing in, looming, ready to grab me and jerk me up. She’d had her one sympathetic moment. That was probably all I was going to get. Besides, they were always watching and she couldn’t show weakness.
A cough.
“Let me take her, Mrs. Kelly.” A calm voice, slow like lava, but warm, bordering on hot.
Red’s foot tapped once in front of my eyes, and then disappeared.
Lips close to my ear whispered, “You need to get up.”
I can’t.
“Get up.” Strong fingers found my chin and forced it upwards. “Now. He’s watching you.”
Okay. Move your limbs. Pull one part in front of the other. Follow the thread of life left in you.
I heaped myself towards my door, moving like a kicked heap of wet towels.
Denis opened the door and walked straight into my bathroom. Pulling myself from the floor, I went inside, closing the bedroom door behind me. I heard a slight metallic clink, and then the taps running. Without even looking into the bathroom, I seized and shuffled into the corner with fear.
His concerned face appeared in the bathroom doorway, and I pressed closer to the wall. When he saw my expression, his eyebrows rose in alarm and he pumped his hands in front of him.
“No. I’m not going to hurt you, I…” He ran a hand over his close-cropped, spiky hair and sighed. “Have a shower, Rosa, take some time,” he urged seriously.
I just stared blankly, not understanding anything. My mind was walled in on all sides by screens playing violent acts over and over. Then he checked himself, checked for cameras, and leaned in, kissing me briefly on the forehead.
“Let this be the last time you allow him to hurt you,” he whispered, his breath a flush of peppermint on my aching skin.
Tears cascaded over my eyelashes and flooded my cheeks, a waterfall of disbelief.
He pulled back suddenly, as if he’d surprised himself, and backed away from me, opening the door behind him and slowly leaving the room. His eyes intense. His face finally showed some emotion—concern, but also… a challenge.
I waited until the door clicked and then rushed to the bathroom. Sitting on the basin was a candy-colored music player, the white earphones wound in a circle. The song was paused.
I traced the title with my shaking fingers, my head splitting with bullets and blood. ‘The Work’ by Catie Wings. It didn’t sound like a real name.
I placed the earphones in my ears and pressed play, looking up at the girl in the mirror. She looked harrowed, hollow, wide eyes in a thin face, eyes as large as bowls and just as full. Full of more trauma than she could handle and struggling to get back to herself. To remember herself. I gripped the sides of the sink and listened.
If this was more torture, that would be it. I would wash down the drain.
The music was haunted. A floating voice sailed in the spaces between what I’d learned was piano. A dull thud. But then the vulnerability, the stress of the first words, hit me and I dissolved. My fingers slipped and I pressed them deeper into the porcelain. I watched the ghost in the mirror react and tried to recall that it was me.
“Clasp hands, you’ll survive.”
Her voice wavered as if she weren’t sure of her words, the fear in there, the loss of something real.
“I’m on my own, looking in,
On the strife,
On the chaos.”
I couldn’t understand the next part, but her voice had me anyway. Something was over, she sung. It was about things that were out of her contr
ol. My tears fell into the basin, just water.
Insubstantial water.
Powerful water.
I can do this. I have to. My heart burgled all the strength it could. My head fell as I watched tears pour down the drain, my hair, waving, glowing light and wrong.
“Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.
Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.”
Something was stuck in my throat, heaving panic. Let this be the last time.
“I can’t cry for fear of what it means.
I can hope but it leaves me undone.
Regrets keep me standing alone.
Wondering what I could’ve done.
Wondering if I gave you enough.”
There was more than just tears burning my throat; something else was stuck in there, my heart, my soul. I was trying so hard and then, I stopped. This will be the last time. Make it count, I thought. I eased myself down to the floor, the damp bath mat cool on my legs, the player pulling over the edge and landing on the floor. I wrapped my arms around my legs to contain the shaking.
“Please, my love, change this time, change this place.”
She wailed, she pleaded. But it wasn’t going away.
“Take this pain away.” She threw the words at me, threw them into the atmosphere, and offered them to anyone that would have them. And I wanted to take the pain for her. I wanted to be stronger.
Grant. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I let myself feel it. I let the tears run over my lips and into my hands. I held them there.
“Leave me my memories.
Leave them here with me.”
She asked. She told. She demanded.
I thought, They’re mine. You can’t take him from me. You can’t change my mind about him. I won’t.
I let the words roll over and over like racing clouds heavy with destruction. They floated in front of my face; they sloped over my forehead and smoothed down my hair.
“Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.
Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.”
I knew.
This would be the last time I let him hurt me.
JOSEPH
We arrived at the camp after walking half the night, Ermil managing to support his weight but still needing a crutch. We were dirty, happy, and different.
The early morning clink of metal cups and the pour of hot water reassured me, brought me home. We were purposefully loud as we entered the broken-up camp; people perched between the trees of the thickly wooded area. Everyone reacted, jumping up, grabbing weapons. When Gus faced us, he broke into a wide smile.
“I knew you’d make it,” he said, clapping his hands together. I couldn’t help but grin, his happiness rubbing off on me.
Pelo ran up and offered an arm to Ermil so he could ease himself down. A drink was offered as soon as his butt hit the ground. Pelo looked up at me and his eyes again slapped me with their likeness to Rosa’s. I shook it away, pressing her memory down and tucking it under other things.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said, standing up and bringing me into his arms. “I couldn’t lose you too.”
My arms were at my sides. I held my breath while he hugged me.
“I’m fine, Pelo,” I muttered, realizing I’d left him to deal with his grief alone because I’d been too busy with my own. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at him. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.” I connected with his eyes briefly and then looked away.
Pelo waved his hand, steam coming from his mouth as he spoke. “No matter, no matter. You’re safe, that’s the important thing.” He lifted a finger to the air. “That and the fact that our plans seem to be working marvelously.” I caught myself starting to roll my eyes and stopped.
Matt came up behind us and broke the tension, his voice anchored in pride. “You should have seen him performing surgery on the side of a hill by torchlight! It was very impressive.”
“I had help,” I muttered, pointing in Elise’s direction. I thought I caught a quick glare from Desh.
She smiled shyly and swept her short hair behind her ear. “It was mostly Joseph. I just held the torch.”
I shrugged. She did more than that.
Clapping startled us, very slow clapping coming from the outer edges of the camp.
“Hooray for the hero,” Rash exclaimed sarcastically.
I turned to face him. His eyebrows were pulled down; dark circles ran under his eyes like bruises.
“They never said…” I started.
“No, really you are,” Rash said, shaking his head and stepping towards me, getting closer than he had since the night we’d left the Superior’s compound. “You saved your own skin and left Rosa to rot. Now, look, you’ve played the hero, and you’ve got a new admirer. You can forget all about her now.”
“Rash…” Pelo sighed.
He took another step, reached out, and poked me in the chest accusingly. “Isn’t that right?” Each word was punctuated with a sharp tap to my heart.
I stared down at him. Tears pooled in his eyes. “No,” I said sternly.
He desperately wanted to hit me. I could feel his fists burning to connect.
Matt spoke. “You don’t know the whole story. Joseph did what he could, but she couldn’t be saved.”
Desh’s head snapped towards Matt, his expression baffled. I took the opportunity to move away from Rash, but he followed me. I turned back to him and growled. “Not now!”
Rash put his hands up and smirked at me infuriatingly.
I grabbed Desh’s arm and yanked him away from the camp, pulling him in between the thick trunks that barricaded us in like the black-clad legs of Woodlands’ soldiers.
When we were a safe distance from the others, I spun Desh to face me. The look in his eyes was one of complete confusion and a little bit of fear. He was scared of me. I forced myself to relax a little and took a calming breath.
I sighed. “I’m sorry I dragged you out of there, but there’s something you need to know.”
Desh raised his eyebrows and waited for me to go on. I breathed in heavily. “I let Matt think Rosa killed Este.” Desh’s eye’s widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “But before you say anything just understand, I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t have him look at me like I was a murderer. I know that’s what I am, I know I have to face it, but it’s hard. I wanted some time to deal with what I’d done before everyone knew.”
Desh’s face softened. “Joe.” My name sounded like a sad sigh when he said it. He reached out to touch my arm, and I jerked away. “I think we need to talk about this. You know it’s not your fault, right?”
I knew it was entirely my fault.
“Desh, please, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s too damn hard,” I pleaded.
He seemed anxious when he tried again to talk. “But I don’t think you understand…” I held my hand up to stop him. “I understand enough.”
I stomped away, leaving him standing there, bewildered. He wasn’t going to make me feel better about this, and I couldn’t reopen the wounds. I was finally managing to move forward, and he wanted to drag me back.
We packed up and left for Palma. To keep them guessing, we were zigzagging across the compounds, not hitting them in order. We hadn’t managed to sync with the fireworks at Radiata, but we would for Palma in five days.
Soldiers had poked around the bottom of the hill looking for us, but they hadn’t come very far before they were called back. It seemed Radiata had exploded with anger and riots. No Survivor could stay this time. It was too dangerous. We had to leave them to it.
We walked in a zigzag as well. The Survivors were very good at hiding and avoiding Woodlands’ soldiers.
I
kicked a slice of shale rock down a grassy hillside, watching it skid across the other stones and disappear. Light snow covered any outcropping, but it wasn’t building up as fast as we would have thought. It was actually a shame in a way because it would have hid our tracks. Gus predicted it would thicken over the next few days.
“How’s the hand?” I asked Matt as we paused to get our bearings and rest. We were all on a high except for him. No one expected it to go this well. But then, no one really considered what would happen after. Matt was contemplative.
Matt bent his fingers slowly; two fingers didn’t move. He watched them like they weren’t his own.
“It’ll come back, Matt, give it time,” I said.
He smiled sadly. “How are your chest wounds?” he asked, peering at my shirt.
I tapped my chest lightly. “Itchy!” He laughed. I noticed several grey hairs running through the light brown.
“Itchy is good.”
Elise strolled over and took my water bottle from me, taking a swig without asking. I cleared my throat. She ignored me.
“Yep, means it’s healing.” She daintily dabbed at her mouth with her sleeve.
Rash sat on a rock, listening intently, and then his face cracked into a smile. “So, itchy good, oozy bad?”
Everyone laughed. Even me. I tried not to look at him for too long though, scared I would ruin the moment. Our relationship had always been precarious, but without Rosa here, it was dangling off a cliff.
I stuffed thoughts of her back behind others, focusing on the next mission and Orry.
Gus clapped his hands together and looked at the sky, as if it were a clock he could read. “It’s time to move.”
Elise floated from group to group. She was easy to talk to and managed conversations with everyone. She was confident to the point of being a little annoying, but most of the time I didn’t mind her company.
We were now one-day’s walk from Palma. The time passed quickly. A lot of walking, talking, and shooting animals. I was training my eyes to search out game. Everyone did it and when Gus caught something, there was a lot of celebration and the bonus of fresh food.
The Wanted (The Woodlands Series Book 4) Page 12