The Release

by Tom Isbell

  One look and it all comes flooding back. The experiments. The drug-induced fevers. The freezing tank of water.

  Faith.

  This time, Hope’s hand clasps the knife handle and doesn’t let go. She could kill him here and now, but then she’d be taken prisoner. Probably executed. That doesn’t bother her so much, except it would leave Chancellor Maddox alive and well. She doesn’t mind sacrificing her life to accomplish her task, but only if she knows both monsters will be destroyed. No good if one is killed and the other survives.

  She removes her hand from the knife and hurries out of the fortress.

  15.

  I RELEASED MIRANDA’S HAND and placed it on her stomach, tidying her final posture.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. There was more I wanted to say, of course, but there wasn’t time—not with a fuse racing for explosives.

  I ran back the way we came, scrambling through the pitch-black tunnel, hurtling over piles of corpses as best I could. At one point I slipped and fell, doing a face-plant into a disintegrating corpse. I threw up, disgusted, and started running again.

  However long it had taken Red and Flush and me to get through the tunnel from the other direction, it seemed to take me twice as long from this end. The stench, the blackness, the echo of my chugging, heavy breaths made it seem like a race through hell itself.

  “Come on,” I heard Flush yell, and when I looked up toward the ceiling, I saw his face poking through the hole.

  A moment later I was at the ladder, the wood creaking beneath my weight. I climbed as fast as I could, smelling my own sweat and vomit.

  The ladder sagged, the nails screeched, and I prayed it would hold out long enough for me to climb to the top. My heart slammed against my chest, just waiting for the awful explosion I knew would come at any second. Every so often my eyes traveled above me, to that small hole in the earth and the oval of shining sky.

  Argos was up there, barking his head off. Hurry up, he seemed to be saying. As if he knew the dangers even better than the rest of us.

  I was nearly three-quarters of the way up when my foot slipped out from under me. Before I knew it, I’d lost my balance and was sailing backward through air, plummeting to earth, legs and arms splayed.

  When I landed with a thud against the hard-packed ground, the air rushed out of me, and I thought I’d never breathe again. I lay there, stunned, like a swatted fly. Panic gripped me as I struggled to inhale.

  I rolled to the side, my body damp from perspiration. Nausea rushed through me like a wave. Somehow I had to get up the ladder. With stiff legs and tingly hands, I once more began to climb.

  The going was slow, molasses-like. When I glanced up to the distant opening, I saw the heads of Red and Flush, looking down and urging me on.

  “Come on, Book!” one of them yelled. “You can do it!”

  Argos barked his head off.

  I could do it … as long as there was time.

  But there wasn’t time.

  Not five feet from the top, I felt it—an enormous whoompf. The fuse had reached the explosives.

  Other muffled explosions followed, each louder than the first. Whoompf! Whoompf! WHOOMPF!

  I thought maybe that was it. Just the central chamber had felt the blast. Maybe I’d been spared.

  But then a wave of furnace heat slammed into me, pushed forward by a cannonball of flame, racing down the tunnel, its orange and red flames molded by the cave itself. It was consuming everything in its path, searching for oxygen and a way out—and it was on me before I had a chance to blink. I grabbed the ladder, tucked myself into it, and said a single word.

  “Hope.”

  And then it hit.

  The heat from the inferno in the Brown Forest had been unbearable; this was worse. It was a scalding blast of furnace air—like being dropped onto a sizzling griddle. Heat and fire consumed me.

  But it was more than just heat—it was wind, too. A fiery tornado ripped me from the ladder’s rungs and carried me along like some insignificant speck. Breath was impossible—the air way too hot to inhale—and my arms flailed as the flaming whirlwind spun me around and vomited me through the escape hole like lava from a volcano. Like Jonah from the whale. I shot up straight in the air, hovering for what felt like forever, kept aloft by the rushing wind and scorching heat, reaching for the sky itself.

  And then I landed. Hard.

  The world was suddenly muffled, encased in a thick blanket, and I saw the racing footsteps of Red and Flush as they hurried toward me.

  Their mouths were open, but I couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand.

  They helped me sit up. Argos was there, too, licking the side of my face, cooling me with his slobbery tongue.

  My eyes landed on my two friends. Their faces were scorched—but they were laughing and patting me on the back. We were alive. Somehow, against the odds, we survived.

  But when the earth began to rumble, I realized it was too soon to celebrate.

  Far behind us across the frozen field, puffs of white lifted to the sky. And then the fields themselves seemed to disappear from view. It took us a moment to understand what we were seeing. The ground was falling into the Compound, the earth collapsing like a row of falling dominoes.

  And coming right for us.

  Red and Flush helped me to my feet, and we took off in a dead sprint, racing atop the frozen corn stubble. Three charred figures in a field of white.

  Our feet kicked up the snow. My right side radiated pain, and my body screamed with every footfall. Red and Flush were far ahead. A glance over my shoulder told me the ground was gaining, racing after us like an incoming wave. The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard; the heavy thwump of earth slamming earth. It tossed me like an exploding kernel of popcorn.

  This time I landed on my stomach and chest. Argos stayed with me, pressing his snout against my face and neck, making sure I was alive.

  “Good boy,” I said, although I couldn’t hear my own words.

  I sat up and looked around. We were submerged in an enormous crater. Before us, the earth continued to roll and buckle, collapsing in on itself, erupting snow and dirt. My arms encircled Argos, waiting for the shaking to stop.

  When the ground stopped roiling and finally settled to an uneasy rest, Red and Flush came running back and knelt by my side.

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  We took off in a hurry, heading for the closest ridge.

  Reaching the bluff, we allowed ourselves a moment of celebration, marked with deep breaths, drinks of water, and the occasional hug. We walked down to the frozen river and crossed its icy pavement. And I knew, in that moment of escaping certain death, in my final seconds of life, I had uttered one word: Hope’s name.

  16.

  HOPE REUNITES WITH CAT and Sunshine at the bottom of the mountain. They dodge patrolling Brown Shirts and find their Humvee, dumping the three hog-tied soldiers out of it before taking off.

  Cat drives—a skill he learned at Young Officers Camp—and they return the way they came. Once they’re far from town and the shadow of the Eagle’s Nest, Hope describes everything she saw.

  Their mood is dark, the silence broken only when Cat explains that while Hope was up the mountain, he found something in one of the soldiers’ pockets—a slip of paper with a line of numbers. The same code found on Colonel Thorason.

  4539221103914

  When they run out of gas, they dump the Humvee and rush to catch up with the other Less Thans, joining them the next day. Diana is happy to report that there’s been no sign of Hunters, Crazies, or wolves.

  “How about Book?” Hope hears herself ask.

  “No sign of him either.”

  “Just wondering,” Hope says, a little too hastily.

  It’s evening when they reach a small ridge, and Hope motions for them to stop. Below them, covered in a blanket of snow and ice, lies a large lake. Next to it, shrouded in a tangle of overgrown trees, is Dodge’s Log Lodges—hardly noticeable to the nak
ed eye. It’s where they left Helen and the emaciated Sisters last fall, and Hope’s heart stirs at the sight of it. But the longer she observes the group of run-down cabins, the more she realizes there’s no movement there. No signs of life at all.

  She shares a glance with Diana. They’ve been through this before—returning to Camp Freedom only to find it empty, its prisoners evacuated on a death march.

  Not again, she wants to say, feeling a sudden, painful ache. Poor Helen and all those dying Sisters. Hope regrets leaving them.

  Hope, Diana, and Cat decide to check it out. They ease down the hill, hiding in the shadows of thick underbrush. Hope’s crossbow is slung over one of her shoulders; in her hand she grips a spear.

  They reach a small clearing and hesitate. Moonlight silhouettes them, and they’ll be sitting ducks in the open. Still, it’s the only way to get across. Hope takes a deep breath and hurries forward. She doesn’t exhale until all three reach a grove of trees on the far side.

  “Come on,” she whispers, and the words have barely left her mouth when she hears a tiny, metallic ping—the sound of something snapping. Out of instinct, she runs … just as a large net plummets from the trees and lands on her two friends. The rope is thick, the knots small and hard. Cat and Diana struggle to free themselves, but their desperate attempts only make things worse.

  “Go,” Cat commands.

  “Not without you,” she says.

  She draws her knife. It won’t be easy cutting through the tangled web, but she can do it if she hurries. She takes a step in their direction … and falls through space, arms and legs flailing. She lands with a hard thud. Snow and leaves rain down on top of her, and she lies there a moment, shaking away the pain.

  A deep pit surrounds her. Her hands and fingers claw at the earth, but the surface walls have been smoothed like marble. There’s no chance for handholds or climbing up. To make matters worse, her crossbow is shattered and she’s separated from her spear. It lies directly above her, the spear tip dangling above the hole, the rest of it out of sight.

  She hears the muffled sound of her two friends scraping against the net, trying to free themselves.

  Now other sounds, too. Hushed voices. Muted footsteps in the snow. When the footsteps stop, the spear is suddenly yanked away, disappearing from sight. Hope’s heart sinks.

  Like a cornered beast, she backs up, tucking herself into shadows, making herself as small as possible in the deep, dark trench. She’ll not go down without a fight. She still has her knife, and she grips it tightly in her palm. Wondering if these are her last moments on earth, she whispers aloud one word.

  “Book.”

  A head appears, its outline barely visible against the night sky. Another head as well. Then still more after that. Hope can’t tell if they’re Crazies or Brown Shirts—although neither possibility is good. Tears sting her eyes as she readies for a fight.

  “You lose this?” a voice taunts, and a hand holds out her spear high above her.

  Hope doesn’t answer.

  “I said, did you lose this?” the questioner repeats, and Hope realizes the voice is familiar.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Hope asks.

  “Who else lives here?”

  Hope breaks into a deep smile and lets herself breathe again. It’s Helen. After all this time, the Sisters are reunited.

  While Hope is lifted from the trap, Cat and Diana are extracted from the net. The Sisters retrieve the other sixty-some Less Thans and bring them back to camp. As Helen leads the way—skirting sharpened logs and booby-trapped pits—Hope can only marvel. When they were last here, Helen was the only healthy Sister alive, and Dodge’s Log Lodges was a crumbling resort, near collapse.

  All that’s different now.

  The buildings have been repaired and camouflaged, new structures erected, and fortifications placed all around: pickets and moats and trap holes, all designed to hold the enemy at bay. Helen has transformed a series of dilapidated buildings into an actual fort.

  “But it looked deserted from the ridge,” Hope says, pulling the hoodie tight around her face.

  “Good,” Helen answers. “That’s the way we want it.”

  Sure enough, the front windows are painted black and no repairs have been made on that particular exterior. All the expansion has taken place behind the existing structures—hidden from view.

  Hope realizes there is something serene and peaceful about the place. Moonlight splashes the frozen lake, and the cabins themselves are like an oasis in a scarred landscape. For the moment, at least, there are no rabid wolves, no half-mad Crazies, no assaulting Brown Shirts.

  Even more remarkable is how Helen has brought the Sisters back to life. There were sixty when Hope, Scylla, and Diana left here last fall. Although five didn’t make it, fifty-five of them did. And they’re getting healthier with each passing day.

  But perhaps the greatest transformation is Helen herself. No longer the shy twin who could barely look another Sister in the eye, she is now the camp’s undisputed leader. As she shows Hope around, she moves and speaks with a quiet confidence.

  Later, as she helps Helen in the kitchen before preparing for bed, Hope still can’t get over this new Helen. It’s like a different person altogether.

  “You shouldn’t be ashamed, you know,” Helen says out of nowhere. Her eyes are on the birch roots she’s dropping into a giant cauldron.

  “Of what?” Hope asks.

  “Those.” She gestures to Hope’s two Xs.

  At first, Hope doesn’t respond. Her scars—and Chancellor Maddox—are the last things she wants to talk about.

  “We all have scars,” Helen says.

  Hope bristles; it’s what Book said too. “As visible as this?”

  “The size of the scar isn’t what matters.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Maybe.” Helen gives the cauldron a stir. An earthy mist rises from the boiling mixture. “But if you’re interested, I do know how to make them disappear.”

  “How?” Hope asks, turning expectantly. She’d give anything to have her face look the way it used to look.

  “By not trying to hide them.”

  Realizing what Helen is getting at—that she doesn’t have some miracle cure—Hope gives her head a disappointed shake.

  Helen goes on. “I know, I haven’t experienced the kinds of things you have, but I do know that when we try to cover something up, it only draws attention to itself. But if you uncover it and show it to the world, well, it becomes invisible. Like Book’s limp. When’s the last time you noticed that?”

  It drives Hope crazy that Book said some of the same things.

  “So why do the Sisters stare at me?” Hope asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I saw how they looked at me when you brought us into camp. How their gazes lingered longer than they should’ve.”

  Helen laughs.

  “What’s so funny?” Hope asks, defensive.

  “That’s not why they’re staring.”

  “Then why?”

  “Don’t you know?” Helen says. “You’re their savior. You’re the reason they were rescued. If it weren’t for you, they’d all have been killed by Brown Shirts. And every single one of them knows it.”

  Hope waves away the compliment, but when she opens her mouth to speak, she can’t. The lump that has lodged in her throat won’t let her.

  17.

  IT WASN’T DIFFICULT TO track the other Less Thans’ footprints in the snow, and when we finally made it to Dodge’s a few days later and the two groups reunited, there was much hugging and congratulations all around. Argos got the best of it, with every single Sister wanting to pat his head and scratch behind his ears.

  I spied Hope and went to thank her for escorting the Less Thans back to safety. Just as I approached her and opened my mouth to speak, she turned away. We didn’t even say hello.

  That evening, we all crowded into the main lodge, and following a feast of veniso
n and rabbit stew, each group told of the gruesome things they’d seen. When I finished describing the Compound with its piles of corpses, a thick silence hung in the air.

  “No sign of your grandmother?” Cat asked.

  “No sign of any living people,” I said. “And the only body we recognized was the chief justice.” I didn’t tell them about Miranda. It still hurt to think of her lifeless body, lying crumpled and still like a fallen bird.

  “So what do we do now?” Flush asked.

  I knew what he was getting at. Brown Shirts had blown up the Compound, tons of weapons were being moved to the chancellor’s fortress, and the same unbreakable code had been found on three separate people. So where did that leave us?

  “Maybe we stay here for a while,” I suggested. “Lie low and get our strength back before heading out in the spring.”

  The nods from the others told me they agreed.

  “There’s something you should know,” Helen said, and all eyes turned to her. “Yesterday, one of the girls on patrol came across some tire tracks.”

  It was amazing how quickly 120-some bodies could get so quiet.

  “Who saw them?” Hope asked.

  A small girl named Sarah raised her hand.

  “Did you see the vehicles?” Hope wanted to know.

  Sarah shook her head. “Just the tracks. About a mile from here.”

  “What type of land? Was it on a hill? In a valley? What?”

  “Maybe on a hill. I can’t remember.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Hope let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Go easy on her,” I said to Hope. “Why does it matter?”

  “It matters because someone might be spying on us,” Hope answered. “And if they were on a hill, they obviously wanted the best vantage point.” Her words challenged me to contradict her. I didn’t.

  Despite the blazing fire in the fireplace, it felt as though the heat had been suddenly sucked out of the room. The warmth of our reunion was a thing of the past.

  “So what do we do?” Helen asked.