by Keri Lake
Finally, the guards close the back of the tailgate, hop into the cab, and take off.
Once I can no longer see them down the dirt road, I push up from my hiding spot and cross the sand toward the warehouse. Maybe there’s water inside.
My mind longs to tease out why they would drop supplies off here, in the middle of nowhere. But I’m too exhausted. So desperate for food and water, I’m giving serious thought to going back for that lizard I saw earlier.
A heavy chain links the doors of the warehouse, held by a thick lock. I wriggle the lock, but it’s no use. The solid doors won’t budge, and it probably doesn’t matter, anyway. The only things in those boxes were files.
Glancing up, I check the position of the sun, relative to the dirt road ahead. Doctor Falkenrath said it’s a three-hour walk, with the sun at my right shoulder. From here, I estimate another hour—which isn’t impossible.
With the full force of the sun, though, it won’t be easy, either.
Fatigue settles deep inside my bones.
The edges ahead flicker as if they’re moving, vibrating in front me like a pool of water up ahead. I stumble along the dirt road, angling to the side with a bout of vertigo that sends me stumbling into the hot sand, and I right myself again.
“Man, it’s hot out here.”
The voice draws my gaze to the side, and I whimper at the sight of Raymond walking beside me.
“I’m … fine. I’m not … crazy. I know you’re a hallucination.”
“Does it matter out here, if you’re crazy, or not?”
“What do you want? Why do you keep showing up?”
“Would you rather be alone?”
No. Even if it makes me insane to talk to a hallucination, it’s a comfort out here.
“This is … a bit longer than you … estimated.” The heat and exhaustion leave me breathless and woozy.
He glances up toward the sun, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Have you been paying attention to the sky? You’re a little off track.”
My muscles sag under the weight of defeat and fatigue, as I peer up.
The sun has moved position over my left shoulder.
“Oh, no. Where do I go?”
“Sun’s high. Not quite noon, though. Maybe ten? You left the warehouse at about eight, right?”
“I don’t even know. I don’t care anymore. I just want to lie down and sleep.”
“You can’t lie down. Wren is counting on you.”
“I don’t even know if it’s a girl.”
“Listen to me, Dani. At noon, that sun is going to become intense. You’ve not had food, or water, in over twenty-four hours. Backtrack. You need to go south and slightly west.”
A tearless sob chokes in my throat, my shoulders so weak I can’t even stand upright. I turn around, as he says, and slam the heel of my hand to my temple to rub the ache there. My head feels heavy, throbbing with pain. “Will you stay with me?”
“For a little while,” he says and jerks his head, taking the lead in front of me. “C’mon.”
For over an hour, I stumble behind him, tripping over my feet, which seem to sink with every step, like there’s quicksand beneath me. My knees begin to buckle, the dry air so thick it burns to swallow.
“Ray … I need to rest. I’m too tired.”
“The tree is just ahead. I can see it, Dani.”
“You’re lying.” My chest thumps with the tears that refuse to fall. “You’re lying to me!”
“I’m not lying. Look.” He points ahead, to where I can just make out the twisted bend of a tree, hunched over itself, as if it’s been knocked to the side.
Pangs of hope blossom in my chest, and I stumble forward, falling to my knees, and push myself up, taking three more steps, before I fall again. Over and over, I fall and order myself up again, until my hand catches the bark and I hold on to the tree. Rounding it brings an opening into view, and tucked inside the trunk is a small pack.
Scrambling to my knees, I tear into the bag and find a small bottle of water. Not enough to rehydrate me entirely, but enough to stave off the faint feeling that’s threatened to pull me into blackness. A small pack of crackers also sits inside the pack. It takes mere minutes to devour them. It’s a pathetic meal, but enough that I’m no longer dizzy.
Strewn about the cracked dirt surrounding the tree are small blue berries, some purplish-red, and I lift one, studying it. The poisonous plants that my father always pointed out were silver leaf nightshade and castor bean. Nothing like these berries. I pop one into my mouth, and a tart, pine flavor explodes across my tongue.
Bitter, but satisfying enough.
I gather a handful of them into my palm, eating a few as I collect them, until my palm is full of berries.
Bent forward, I look around inside the hollow trunk of the tree. It’s deceivingly more spacious inside, and I climb in, over the small roots sticking up from the dirt, beside the pack. Breathing easier than before, I enjoy the shade while I snack on the berries, my gaze raking over the inside of the tree.
I notice a carving—a name with the date etched beneath it. I search the ground beside me and find a sharp stone, perhaps used by the owner of the name. Into the wall of the trunk beside me, I carve my own name and run my fingers over the permanent grooves in the bark, but even that seems to take effort. With the cool bed of dirt calling to me, I lie down, curled into myself, and succumb to the heavy weight of exhaustion.
Sharp spikes of pain strike my abdomen, twisting like blades deep inside my body. Arms wrapped around myself, I curl into a tight ball, squinting my eyes with each pulsing muscle contraction.
A cold sensation swells in my chest, and I open my mouth to vomit, but nothing comes up. Sweat has broken out across my skin, which has turned much more pale than before. My head feels as if I’ve been spinning too long, too fast, and all I want to do is close my eyes, but the pain won’t let me sleep.
Throb after aching throb radiates from the center of my belly and into my limbs in a never-ending assault, like a war has broken out inside of me.
The agony brings me to tears, and I open my mouth a second time, to nothing but a gag.
My body trembles, rattling that sickness inside of me, and I clamp my eyes shut, certain that I’m dying.
“What have you done? What have you done!”
The screaming draws me out of drowsy sleep, and I open my eyes to see Raymond, pacing back and forth outside the tree. The dusk creates silhouettes, but his voice is unmistakable.
“You again?” The weakness in my voice hardly carries, not that it matters. Raymond isn’t real, after all.
“You killed her! You killed Wren!”
Frowning, I push myself up to a sitting position, and flinch at a dull cramping deep inside my belly.
A pool of blood surrounds me. Not a speck. Not a splash. A pool, sapped into the dirt.
“You ate the berries. You weren’t supposed to eat the berries!” The panic in Raymond’s voice corresponds with the tightness in my muscles and the realization that he’s right.
I crawl toward the mouth of the tree, but my arms feel like noodles, so weak and useless, I tumble forward, chin knocking into the unearthed root below me.
“You’re weak, Dani. You’re going to die.” Raymond’s grim tone echoes in my ear, as my view shrinks to a pinprick.
I blink to the sounds of a growl and chattering teeth.
Kneeling just outside the tree is a Rager, dragging her hand through the dirt and licking her fingers. Feeding on my blood. A hard thump beats over top of me, juddering my muscles. A growl. Another hard thunk draws my attention upward, where something is slamming the trunk of the tree above me.
The growls intensify, and I snap my attention back to the one eating my blood. As she crawls closer, my mouth opens to a weak scream, and I will my legs to kick her away, but they won’t move at my command. A cold hand grips my ankle, tugging me out of the tree, and as much as want to fight and claw to get away, all I can do is let it take
me.
Chapter 24
Wren
Head tucked into my knees, I sit on the cot, avoiding Arty’s probing stare.
“You don’t even know how close you came to getting killed, Wren. That kid could’ve snapped your neck without thinking. And Albert’s, too.”
“That’ll be enough.” Papa’s firm voice washes over me—along with a blanket of relief, when I see him approach. “She’s safe now.”
I frown at him, dressed in a strange uniform, as he stands outside of the cell. Two Legion soldiers salute him, the way they did back at the house, and Arty follows suit.
“I want her released immediately. And the boy is to be taken into custody once he’s found. Terminated on sight.”
I lurch toward the bars, the disbelief of Papa’s words stamping out the relief from moments ago. “What?”
“In times of my absence, she’ll be placed on watch.”
“What are you doing? Where’s Six?”
Stern eyes sear into me, the kind of anger I’ve not seen from Papa, and I take a step back from the bars. “Not another word,” he warns.
A Legion guard unlocks the cell and nabs hold of my arm, tugging me out of it.
I wrench my arm from him and storm out of the guard station, hoping the ride home will provide some answers.
Instead of finding Papa’s truck outside of the station, a sleek black car awaits, and two guards escort me inside. Papa squeezes in beside me, and across from us, a man in a polished suit sits sprawled.
“Wren, this is Alexander Szolen.”
Szolen. Szolen Technologies. He’s the brainchild behind the community. The one who designed the self-sustaining city, the self-proclaimed leader of this place. I’ve read about him in the articles provided by the library. How he partnered with some of the largest companies in the world, to build Szolen prior to the outbreak.
“I understand you had an encounter with the young man who escaped the hospital. Tell me, Wren, what was the nature of your encounter?” There’s an oily texture to his voice, stiff and robotic, and it’s as out of place as his clean and fancy appearance.
I glance over to Papa, who doesn’t bother to look at me, but keeps his gaze toward Szolen. “He saved my life. Albert and his friends tried … they were going to … they tried to hurt me.”
“Ericsson has become a problem,” Papa cuts in, his voice laced with anger, and when Szolen’s eyes land on him, his gaze falls away from the man.
“Wren, your father is a very respected physician. A very useful person in our little community. So, if you can overlook the transgressions of young Albert Ericsson, I will overlook yours, as well.”
“What transgressions? I’ve not done anything wrong!”
“Wren,” Papa warns beside me. “Enough.”
“Housing a criminal is grounds for execution, or abjection. It’s my duty to provide a safe environment for our community. It is your duty to abide by the laws, or pay the consequences. Now, I understand young Ericsson acted out of line. He will be dealt with accordingly.”
My jaw clenches with the effort of holding back the venomous words itching to escape. “Where is he? Where’s Six?”
“The prisoner managed to escape, but our soldiers tracked him about fifteen miles out, to a Juniper tree.” His gaze slides to Papa and back to me. “It seems he was well-equipped.”
A sob tugs at the back of my throat, but I refuse to cry in front of this bastard. I’ll save my tears for Six. For when it matters most. Not for the asshole in front of me.
“Rest assured, he’ll be promptly returned to the facility from which he escaped.”
“And tortured? That’s what he was kept there for, right? So you could starve him and beat him, and tear him open to sew him back together!”
“Enough, Wren!”
I turn to face Papa, the betrayal in his eyes inflaming my already burning heart. “How could you? How could you let this happen? How could you let them do this?”
Ignoring me, he lifts his gaze to Szolen. “I can assure you, we will cooperate. There’ll be no more issue to contend with.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Again, we are grateful to have you as a part of our community. It’d be a shame to lose such a talented individual. And perhaps in the future, Wren, you might be a contributor to our community, as well.”
I lie on my side, staring through the window at the moon high in the sky. A crescent moon. Its shape looks as if it’s been scraped with a tool, most of it carved away, leaving only a sliver with a dull shine.
The burn of my eyes tugs at me for sleep, but every time I close my eyes, all I see is Six, laid out for torture. Those monsters mutilating his body for entertainment. It took me nearly two months to pull him out of those nightmares, and now I’ve thrown him right back into them.
Pushing back the covers, I slip out of bed and pad toward the window, beyond which the pole barn sits in darkness. A part of me wants to run down there, to see if perhaps he’s returned. The sliver of what’s left of my heart knows he isn’t there, though. He’ll never sneak into my room again. I’ll never sing him to sleep. He’ll never kiss me, or smile his Six smile, or make love to me.
If he lives, he’ll be burned, cut, and sacrificed for the good of the whole.
I set my forehead to the glass and a new wave of tears breaks over me. As much as this hurts, I don’t want the pain to go away, because it’s all I have left of him. I’m so exhausted from crying, but I muster a sob that reaches deep into my ribcage, to the hollow there.
A place that will never be whole again.
Papa stands in the doorway holding a glass of water and breakfast. I’ve not eaten, or had anything to drink, in two days, so I’m not sure why he bothers. I’ve not gotten out of bed to see the guard who stands outside the door, when Papa leaves for wherever he goes. Each day, I lie watching the trees flutter in the breeze and the moon rise at night.
One day spilling into the next, with no end in sight.
He sets the tray down beside me, and unlike the mornings before, he rounds the bed to the other side and takes a seat on a chair he set out the day before.
“You have to eat.”
I don’t bother to answer him, just continue to stare past him toward the window.
“I know you miss him, Wren—”
“You sent me there on purpose,” I interrupt. “I didn’t realize it, at first. But you did. You knew Six would follow me. You knew he’d be seen. You sent me to deliver that poultice on purpose, so they’d find him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m so … so tired of the lies.”
I don’t even care if he yells at me.
To hell with him. To hell with this place. To hell with this phony life.
“I saw him climb into your bedroom window three nights ago. At the ease of his entry, I assumed he’d been doing it for quite some time. I heard the two of you in here.”
Two days ago, I’d have been mortified at this news, but today, I couldn’t care less.
“I understand, Wren, I do. You fell in love with him. But you don’t understand what Six is and what he can do.”
For the first time in the last two days, I lift my gaze to his. “I don’t care. I don’t care what you think he’s capable of doing. I don’t care what you, or anyone else, thinks he is. I know! I’m the only one that ever truly knew him! And now he’s gone! They’ve sent him back! I’d sooner wish death on him than have him go back there!”
“Your wish may have come to pass.”
My brow furrows at that, his face widening with the irritating shield of tears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Legion managed to track him down, but they were attacked by rebels. They executed the soldiers and blew up the truck.”
“And Six?”
He shakes his head, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs. “There was no sign of him.”
“Take me there. I want to see for myself.”
�
�I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care what you think. Take me there.” I lift my hand from the blanket, showing him the mutilated skin, where I’ve sliced a blade across my wrists the last two days, mirroring the scar above it. “I need to see for myself.”
His eyes clamp shut with the lowering of his head, and he nods.
Papa’s truck comes to a stop just before a fire-gutted truck tipped on its side, with the hood blown off. The skeletal remains of the bed lie empty, the tarp that covered it, hiding Six, singed away to nothing.
I climb out of the passenger seat and sidestep the charred remnants of what used to be a human being lying on the ground, only the black helmet and mask telling me it was a soldier.
Black soot coats the ground around the vehicle, and the smell of burnt metal and rubber hangs on the air.
A numb sensation moves through my veins, as I take in the wreckage, circling what’s left of the vehicle. I keep on beyond the truck, toward the twisted, mangled Juniper tree.
Something catches my eye beyond the tree, and I walk toward it. Lying on the ground is a torn and tattered scrap of blue, with a blossom of red. The shirt I bought Six from the market.
I hold the fabric to my nose and breathe him in. A sob breaks in my chest, and I fall to my knees, letting the pain and misery slam into my heart again and again.
In the thick of my sobbing, I sing for Six:
Hush, my darling, dry your tears.
Daylight’s come, so rest your fears
Lay your head upon my heart
And know that we will never part
For I am here, and here I’ll stay
Even when we’re far away
Like peace that soars with the winged dove.
You have my heart and all my love.
No more pain. No more suffering. I try to convince myself he’s in a better place now.
When I close my eyes, the flash of a blond-haired boy zips through my mind, and I fall backward.
I see him again, reaching up for me.
Nenny.
Voices reach my ears, and I turn toward the Juniper tree, listening to them. The voices of children.