by J. L. Weil
Dash bent to the base of the tree and picked up something white. “Here, you need to eat, before you don’t have any fingers left.” He held out a triangle-shaped folded cloth.
I hesitated before taking the small package. It was lighter than expected. “Did you have to kill it?” I asked.
The corners of his lips twitched. “Not this time.”
Peeling back the corners, there was a batch of fruit nestled inside—the same ones I’d seen him snacking on. A lackluster berry of sorts, it was the color of a plum, but the size of a grape. I picked up a piece and turned it around, testing the squishiness.
“It’s not poison,” he informed, plucking one from my hand and tossing it into his mouth. He glanced up through thick lashes as he swallowed. “See? They’re not bad.”
My stomach growled. “How do you know what’s safe and what isn’t?” I asked, popping one in my mouth, unsure what to expect. This place had left nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth, so when I bit down and the sweet juice filled my mouth, I was surprised.
“If it looks tempting and shiny, don’t even touch it. There are plants out here that touching their rind alone can cause your organs to shut down in under a minute.”
I swallowed. “Wonderful.”
We continued our journey as I attacked the berries with a vigorous hunger. My only complaint was that they were gone before my appetite was curbed. I didn’t know how much longer I could run on such little nourishment. Already, I could feel my body burning through the little boost of energy the berries packed. If we didn’t get to Hurst soon, I had a feeling I would be swaying on my feet, eyes going loopy. I’d never been one of those girls who starved themselves. This girl cleared the dinner table. Leftovers weren’t a thing in my house, yet I still managed to be as thin as a beanpole. I blamed genetics. What I wouldn’t give for a little baby-got-back. My mom had been blessed with va-va-voom curves and shared those blessed curves with my little sister. I took after my dad’s side of the family. Where I lacked in the hourglass figure, I made up for in personality.
“How much farther until we get to Hurst?” I asked, sounding like a five year old in the backseat of the minivan.
“Not soon enough,” he mumbled, sidestepping around an overgrown brush.
I chose to ignore his moodiness and bombarded him with questions. “What’s it like in Hurst?” I wanted to prepare myself. Were we talking about Chicago or Galena? Big city or country bumpkin? I didn’t know what to expect from this settlement.
“Hurst is what is considered an enclave, a group of people who the Institute discarded as unimportant.”
“The Institute? What’s that?”
“You remember those guys we ran from in the holding house?”
I nodded. “Hard to forget.”
“The Night’s Guard are part of a link in the chain of command known as the Institute—the so-called government here,” he explained.
“I take it you don’t share their political beliefs.” Politics had never been one of my strong suits; the calculating maneuvers and strategic measures were not my thing.
An icy hardness leapt into his eyes and set his jaw. “The Institute’s biggest concern is assembling a military of gifted and using them to take control.”
“Is that why you were running from them? You don’t want to be a part of their army?”
I couldn’t help but notice how the light streaming through the trees glistened over his tan skin. “Something like that,” he muttered.
Was there any subject that didn’t make him shut down and become close-lipped? There was one thing for certain: Dash had secrets.
“Are there more of those … snykers out here?” I asked, eyes darting over the forest floor. If I kept him talking, then I wouldn’t be thinking about my angry belly.
“Only in the waters outside the maze. As long as you don’t take a swim or dangle yourself along the water’s edge, they won’t bother you. But get close enough to tempt them, and they will try to take a bite. They have a tendency to be snippy. Kind of like you.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
He smiled sideways, revealing a dimple.
All I could do was gawk at him. That smile was heart stopping.
It seemed unfair that he should be so devastatingly good looking but have such a prickly personality.
Dash stopped, his gaze snapping to me. For a moment, he stood there, blinking, and then his eyes narrowed. He flashed right next to me, grabbing my wrist.
Chapter 5
“You better have a good reason for manhandling me,” I spat.
“The guards have picked up on our scent,” he said, tugging me forward. “They are coming for us.”
“What?” I shrieked, confused.
“If you don’t want your first day in Starling Heights to be your last, then move your ass.”
The rustling behind us grew louder, and that was all the encouragement I needed to get my feet going.
We tore through the forest, branches and leaves slapping at my face. Dash’s fingers were weaved through mine, and I could feel the muscles in his arm tense and roll. I did the best I could to keep up with him and not slow us down. Behind us, voices echoed, twigs cracked, and the grunts grew closer.
A lance whizzed through the air, sinking into the dirt at my heels. I yelped.
Oh, my God! They were shooting at us.
There was a clearing to our right, and I thought for sure that was the way we were going. But no—Dash cut left, straight for a patch of tangled brush with large yellow leaves that were encased in thorns. My feet slowed, thinking he was nuts. If we went that way, we’d be sliced to pieces, but Dash only pulled on my arm harder.
“This way!” he urged, darting into the patch of wicked thistles.
Shit. This was going to hurt.
I briefly closed my eyes as we entered, never feeling so out of my element and lost. At every turn, something in this world wanted to do me harm. I’d be lucky if I survived another night—a week maybe—with Dash’s help.
But what would happen after we get to Hurst and he leaves? What then?
To my great relief, as we approached the thistles, the leaves turned inward, rolling themselves into little cocoons, revealing a narrow dirt path winding through the trees. I snuck a quick peek over my shoulder to see if we were being followed, but the thistles had unfurled and were once again a patch of poisonous thorns.
“You hanging in there?” he asked, letting up just a tad on his grueling pace.
It was a good thing I’d been an athletic chick in high school. Between fencing classes and cheerleading, I managed to stay fit and quick on my feet. As I opened my mouth, another lance zipped over my head.
“Dammit,” Dash swore. “Unrelenting bastards.”
Once again I found myself being pulled along over the woodsy terrain with Dash’s insistent strides. I followed behind, or risked getting my arm yanked out of the socket. My ragged breaths echoed in time with my pounding heart.
I stumbled out of the woods, not expecting the ground to abruptly drop. My feet skidded to a screeching halt, tearing my fingers from Dash’s grasp.
He whipped around, already teetering over the side. “Hurry,” he ordered, holding out his hand.
I hesitated. He wanted me to scale down a small mountain? What next?
Biting my lip, I stared into his eyes. He was fearless. His courage and my terror gave me renewed strength. I placed my hand in his again and said a silent prayer.
Geronimo.
Together, we staggered down the side of the bank, rocks tumbling alongside us. The blood drained from my face, and my legs burned with exhaustion as I struggled to keep my balance. The alternative was using the foothill as a Slip ‘N Slide, and I didn’t think my butt could handle it. Without Dash’s strength, things would have been painful.
I exhaled a sigh of relief when my feet touched the bottom, but we wasted no time dashing for the cover of trees at the base of the bank. This time we managed to shake them off our tr
ail, but who knew for how long.
We walked for hours, or at least it felt that way. Dash kept a steady, grueling pace, wanting to put as much distance between us and the Night’s Guard as possible. Fast. I had to, more or less, speed walk to keep up with him, or get left behind. The trail often split off into different directions, but Dash chose each path without hesitation.
My feet were aching, my stomach was rumbling, and my legs felt like I was on a treadmill from hell with no off switch. Just as I thought I would drop from exhaustion, we came upon a huge tree with a gnarly trunk. The bark of the tree was knotty and rough, making it appear as if there were faces embedded in the trunk. Eyes trailing up, my breath caught. Heart-shaped leaves dangled from the branches in colors that reminded me of a summer sunset. Against the waning light and the sparkling stars above, the canopy of leaves set the tree afire.
Beyond the magnificent tree, the flickering of an orange firelight glowed in the distance.
Civilization.
Halle-freakin’-lujah.
I was starving. This place better have a restaurant. I wasn’t asking for a five-star, but real food and not berries and twigs. I’d kill for a chocolate croissant and a tall glass of milk.
“A-are they … friendly?” We were only a few steps away, and the nerves had set in.
Dash’s eyes softened at the anxiety in my voice. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was scared shitless. Nothing of this world had shown me any kindness. A girl like me, in a universe this harsh and foreign, didn’t stand a chance.
Once we crossed over into Hurst, my time with Dash would come to an end. He had promised to see me to safety, and he had, though it was debatable how safe our travels had been. I hadn’t signed up for nearly getting killed at every turn.
“Depends on your definition of friendly.”
I glanced sideways at him. “Okay, how about this: Are they nicer than you?”
“Definitely.” He grinned.
Damn, those dimples again. What was he trying to do to me?
I sighed.
“You’ll be safe here,” he assured, “until you decide what you want to do. If your family is out there, then the people of Hurst can help. It is the largest settlement north of Diamond Towers and filled with trackers.”
Trackers, I’d learned, were rebels who searched for the missing or those in slumber, but usually at a price. I didn’t have anything to offer, except for a ratty dress, a slim ring, and the silver charm around my neck. It had been a gift from my little sister. I doubted either would fetch me a fair price for a tracker.
Dash suggested the option of working off the debt—a job. I’d never had one a day in my life.
“Are you going to stay the night?” I asked. There was comfort in a friendly face, even one as devilishly handsome as Dash’s.
His voice was soft when he spoke, devoid of his usual sarcasm. “I’m not leaving just yet.”
Hurst was like something out of a movie, something not quite real. There was an eight-foot fence surrounding the perimeter with only one way in and one way out. As soon as you walked through the gates, vendors lined the rocky road—a farmer’s market of sorts, selling a variety of wares from produce to linens and furs to handcrafted jewelry. My eyes took in everything, absorbing the drastic change in life.
Dash stopped at one of the vendors to speak to a man who had an eye as milky as cream. He was rail thin and smelled like a fourth of July grill out. I tried not to stare, but it was the most unusual sight. “I’m sorry, Rubian, I found nothing,” Dash said regrettably to the fragile man.
Rubian gave a sad nod. “Thank you for looking.”
He laid a sturdy hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do not give up hope,” Dash murmured, surprising me with his conviction.
I glanced sideways at him, studying the guy who remained a mystery to me. There was another side to Dash he rarely showed to people, and it made me wonder why. What had made him so cynical and guarded?
“Here, for your trouble.” Rubian swung around to the grill sizzling behind him, plucking two skewers of meat, and handed them to Dash. “For you and your lady friend. I am sure after your travels, you are famished. It’s the least I can do.”
Dash nodded, taking the payment of sorts. My guess: Rubian had asked Dash to look for someone, possibly at the holding house where he had found me.
“Eat,” Dash instructed, holding out a stick as we continued to weave down the market through the crowd.
I rolled my eyes, but took the skewer, my stomach growling.
As Dash walked through the dirt streets of Hurst, people turned their heads, whispering or offering the occasional nod. There was a general wariness in their eyes. I wanted to ask him why the people of Hurst were afraid of him, but a burly form suddenly blocked our path, his large shadow looming down on us.
Swallowing the last bite of smoked meat, I glanced up. An intimidating man stood with his arms crossed, a gruff auburn beard covering most of his face, reminding me of a mountain man—burly, hairy, and boorish. Blue eyes twinkled behind all that hair. I wanted to offer him a hair tie or a scrunchie.
When he spoke, he had a deep tone that made me think of roaring rapids and unrestrained storms. “Dash,” he greeted, putting a large hand on Dash’s shoulder. “We didn’t expect you until the next full moon.”
“Plans changed.” His eyes shifted sideways to me, a frown pulling at his lips.
I scuffed my slipper into the ground, offering a friendly smile.
“I see.” The mountain man’s eyes rotated from Dash to me. “You’re too pretty for the Institute to throw away.” He watched me under scrutinizing eyes. “So did you finally take my advice and find yourself a wife?”
I scrunched my face.
Dash was quick to set the record straight. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Cyan.”
Cyan chuckled deep in his belly, a booming sound. “I’m not so sure about that.” He crossed his arms over his expansive chest. “A runner then,” he concluded.
Dash snorted, and the absurdity behind it made me want to smack him on the back of the head. “Wrong again, though she definitely has spunk.”
Intrigue lifted Cyan’s bushy brows.
“I got to her before the Night’s Guard did, just as she awoke,” Dash said, filling in the mystery of my presence.
Cyan didn’t say anything for a moment. I got the feeling he thought there was more to the story. “Interesting. It’s not like you to rescue the damsel in distress.”
Dash rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah well, I’ve done a lot of things lately I never thought possible. Any chance you got room for two stragglers?”
Cyan’s eyes lit with humor. “You’re in luck my friend. We always reserve a place for you, but we only have one hut available. That won’t be a problem?”
Dash’s jaw clenched. “I won’t be staying long, but Charlotte will need somewhere to stay while she figures things out.”
“Of course. Join me for a drink tonight after you’ve washed the stink off you both. I want to hear about your journey. And I’m sure the lady is starving.” Cyan winked before carrying his big frame down the market.
My nose wrinkled. I felt rank and was dying for a shower and clean clothes. Cyan’s suggestion made me realize how awful I must look.
Dash blew out a breath, shifting his weight. “Come on. You look like you’re about two seconds away from passing out.”
“I do not,” I protested as I swayed on my feet.
A lopsided grin appeared on his lips. “Uh-huh.”
We moved along past the vendors and through a narrow alley that opened up into a valley housing small structures made up of a mixture of mismatched materials: steel, wood, brick, anything that was of use to construct a small home and keep out the elements.
Ivy climbed up the sides of the little huts, coiling around the buildings like a snake, penetrating every crevice. I was gawking, but I couldn’t help it. Instead of being thrown a hundred years in the future, it was as if I’d been tran
sported back in time, before electricity, before MacBooks, before plumbing. All modern luxuries no longer existed.
A horrifying notion blossomed in the bottom of my belly.
“Yep, running water is a thing of the past,” Dash said, seeing my mouth hit the ground.
I stood gaping at the row of wooden stalls situated in front of a flowing brook. Water sped over the rocks, twisting and turning downstream. There was a contraption humming in the water, tubes running to the showers, a filtration system. The showers weren’t completely enclosed, but covered all the important bits, leaving a small space at the bottom open for drainage and the top exposed. They were at least over seven feet tall, but if there was a giant around, he could peek over and get a free show.
Dash handed me a folded fabric square I assumed was a towel. “Not what you expected, huh? Hope you’re not shy?”
I was a seventeen-year-old girl with body issues. Of course I was reluctant to shower in a less than private setting, but modesty aside, I would have bathed in a lake. The desire to get the grime off outweighed any timidity.
“Just make sure you check the shower for critters,” Dash advised, smirking.
I squished my face at Dash before stepping in and locking the door. He better have been kidding. I wasn’t normally a squeamish girl, spiders being the exception. Something about all those beady eyes, hairy bodies, and quick legs gave me the willies.
Stepping out of the tattered dress, I hung it over the top ledge alongside the towel. I cranked the water, half-expecting it to be cold, but was pleasantly surprised when the water ran warm. The moment the spray hit my skin, I let out a sound of pure bliss. A hundred years was a long time to go without bathing. I swore Dash let out a similar sigh of heaven.
I cleaned my hair twice and scrubbed my skin until it was as smooth as a newborn’s butt. As I stood under the pounding spray, the events of the last twenty-four hours replayed through my head. Had I made the right choice going with Dash? Was the Institute as bad as they were portrayed? There was still so much I didn’t know. How was I going to find my family?