by Coralee June
There was a time that I thought loving someone from afar would be enough. I was comfortable knowing that I would never be good enough for Josiah. It was a mentality ingrained in me by my birthright. I took every last scrap of happiness thrown my way and was thankful for it.
But now? I wanted it all. I wanted to claim my life for my own. I didn’t want to settle for lingering looks in the hallway or secretive touches that left me wanting more. I craved blatant love. I wanted to feel treasured.
Patrick remained quiet but snaked his hand around my hips. His feather-light fingertips slipped under my cotton shirt so that his heated touch caressed my bare skin.
“I think we all gave up on viewing you as a sister a while ago," Patrick began. His leg surged forward and tangled between mine. "Does this feel wrong, Ashleigh?” His voice was a husky whisper.
I gulped.
“N—no,” I replied.
He then inched closer to me and forced our foreheads to touch. The ghost of his eyelashes danced across mine. “How about this?”
Yes, I thought. “No,” I whispered. My voice shook with tension. Patrick was so close yet so far. He then moved so that his lips lingered on mine. I could feel each breath he took.
“Does this feel wrong to you, Ashleigh?” he asked slowly, and I felt each word move against my lips in a seductive dance. I ached to lean closer, to close the last millimeter between us, to feel his lips on mine. I felt tension worming sharp little fingers under my skin and pooling in the bottom of my stomach.
“No,” I replied, my voice barely audible. Patrick pulled back in an achingly slow manner, as if each inch between us caused him pain. Despite the distance, he still kept his hand firmly on my hip.
“Don’t confuse wrong with unsure, Ash,” he said in a tense voice. “We’ve been fighting this since the moment you slammed open those train doors and turned our world upside down.” He placed his other hand against my collarbone, and his fingers gently curled around my shoulder. It was a slightly possessive gesture that made my heart increase in tempo.
“I’m going to fix this, I promise you. You should never feel guilty for what you want. We want you to have freedom in all things. This . . .," Patrick began while pointing his finger and gesturing between us, “changed when Josiah abducted you. I don’t think anyone is willing to give you up now, and I promise you that this isn't one-sided.”
A loud knock shocked the two of us out of our intimate embrace, and we frantically worked to detangle ourselves. But, we didn’t move fast enough to prevent our intruder from seeing our nearness and my flushed face.
Light flooded Patrick's room, and I glanced up to see a very distraught Maverick in the doorway. His dark eyes briefly grazed over my dazed appearance and ruffled clothes. I noted the hint of a wince on his face before he dropped into a stark mask of indifference. Shaking his head, he straightened and addressed us.
“The Galla Guards have escaped. It’s not safe for Ash to stay here alone,” he said in an urgent tone. I quickly shuffled out of bed and grabbed my boots. After slipping them on, I threw a grey knit sweater over my thin, white nightgown.
Patrick was much slower to get out of bed but still moved with equal shock. I averted my eyes from his half-dressed frame and flexed muscles. I felt too much shame to eye the proof of what we were doing just moments before. With Maverick’s wince still fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help but feel like Patrick was wrong; I couldn't have freedom in all things. My actions and impulses had consequences.
We loaded onto the community transport and rushed to the warehouse. Cyler ordered me to remain close to Jacob about ten times during the trip. His overprotectiveness was in overdrive, and his eyes swept out the window, as if prepared for a surprise attack at any moment.
As we pulled up, Huxley got out first and sprinted to the warehouse entrance where there was a slumped over figure on the dirt ground outside. Huxley halted and bent over to inspect it. Everyone except Jacob began slowly exiting the transport after him, each producing various sized knives. Maverick moved with speed and purpose towards whatever caused Huxley to pause.
“Stay in the transport, Ashleigh,” Cyler ordered while clicking the lock. His lips were fixed firmly in a bleak line as he slid the door shut and made his way towards the others. His tense movements and shifting eyes made the shadows seem threatening.
Jacob grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Don’t look, Ash,” he whispered, but my eyes remained against the glass pane of the window, with my nose stubbornly pushed against it.
Patrick illuminated the dark exterior of the warehouse with a flick of a switch, and I went rigid with fear. The slumped object in the shadows was a too-still body cloaked with blood. It was contorted in an awkward shape, arms and legs bent in unnatural positions. I sucked in a shrill scream and bit the inside of my cheek to stop the fear from creeping out of my clenched mouth. My free fingers pinched my thigh. I wanted to be strong, but the sight was traumatizing.
Maverick bent over to inspect the body and shook his head. The grave movement confirmation to what I already knew— whoever it was, was dead.
“It’s Kindle,” Jacob said, reminding me that he was with me in the Transport and that I wasn't agonizing alone. “Fuck, I should have been here.”
I briefly remembered running into Kindle the night of the Summer Solstice, mentally assigning a face to the brutal death before us.
“Was anyone else guarding the warehouse?” I asked, worried that there would be other casualties. I itched to ignore Cyler’s command and go to them.
“No, we didn’t have more to spare,” Jacob replied honestly. “Between guarding the mines and the train station, we don’t have enough people to cover everything, and Cyler refuses to allow women to take up any shifts.”
Guilt gathered in the pit of my stomach. While I was off enjoying the best birthday of my life, the Dormas leadership council was preoccupied, leaving Dormas vulnerable. I let silent tears fall from my eyes. I didn’t want to make this about me, but couldn’t help but feel cursed.
Jacob grabbed my hand and squeezed. With great effort, I pulled my eyes away from the window and Kindle’s lifeless form. When our eyes connected, I saw that Jacob, too, had unshed tears in his eyes and a shadowy expression on his handsome face.
“I was supposed to be on guard tonight,” he quivered with a shaky voice while throwing a somber gaze back towards the body. I wrapped my arms around him and held him while he shook. He fell apart in my arms, and I felt his pounding intensity against my skin.
“It’s not your fault,” I murmured over and over into his slumped over and defeated form. “Jacob, it’s not your fault.”
Jacob wore guilt like a glove. He absorbed fault whenever possible, and I worried what the ramifications of Kindle’s death would have on him long-term.
Kindle’s death had a sobering effect on me—on all of us. A puncturing depression devoured me, and guilt like a vice gripped my heart. I was reminded that trivial things like birthdays or midnight almost-kisses are nothing when you’re fighting for your life.
Chapter Seven
Maverick was meticulous in combing the warehouse for clues left behind by the escaped Galla guards. Ultimately, they left virtually nothing behind to show how they escaped. However, Maverick was able to piece together that they learned the limitations of their disease, and how to calm down enough to get away without sleeping. Once they saw a change in the routine, they made their escape by stealing Kindle’s key card and killing him.
Huxley sent word to Mia to keep an eye out for the escaped guards, but most likely, they calmly fled to Galla with the hopes that they would find someone that could cure Maverick's manufactured illness.
To be safe, Cyler demanded that I spend the next few days at the Black Manor. Maverick kindly delivered my baked goods to Lois and Mark at the General Store, and they sent back more toys for me to paint during my involuntary time at the manor.
Since Jules moved out, the house was peaceful, but there was an edge
about everyone that made tensions high. The guys mourned the loss of one of their citizens, and they approached work with a revitalized energy. They took on additional projects and rarely slept.
Kindle’s funeral was a moderate affair, and only a handful of people showed up. It seemed that the town was too used to loss, and there wasn’t any time to pause and mourn one of their own. Those that did attend merely nodded their head and said, “How unfortunate,” before going back to work.
I was frozen by how desensitized Dormas was to death. How much loss had they endured to have such a diluted reaction to it?
Low-grade grief mellowed everyone out. Jacob tangled the grief and guilt harder than most. He mostly walked around with a half-smile that was heavy with the pain we all felt. It dissolved the playfulness in his eyes and hid away his flirty nature. Maverick completely avoided the house and was spending late nights at the Clinic. I didn’t know how close they were to Kindle, but I did know that we all felt somewhat responsible for his passing.
What if we hadn’t celebrate my birthday?
What if Jacob didn’t trade his shift?
These lingering thoughts consistently ran on loop through my mind, attacking me in the vulnerable moments I sought happiness. And if I wasn’t thinking about Kindle’s dead body, I was obsessing over my almost-kiss with Patrick. The ricochet of emotions had me feeling sad, guilty, happy, and confused. Patrick and I hadn’t had a moment to discuss what happened, so I felt unsure about where we stood. I purposely sought out his gaze in the rare moments we saw one another, but he avoided me. Was he second guessing everything?
By the fourth day of keeping locked up in the Black Manor, I was filled with anxiousness and demanded that Cyler lift his rules about me leaving the house. I knew that he was merely cautious, but I couldn’t help but feel suffocated in the vast, empty home while the guys worked night and day.
“Fine!” Cyler huffed while carelessly spinning a knife on the kitchen island. “I still think we should wait till we are absolutely sure Lackley and Josiah aren’t planning anything, but Lois has been up my ass asking about you. That is one damn persistent woman.” He chuckled after discarding the knife and flipping through the morning news on his Tablet and sipping his pitch black coffee.
I beamed when I learned that I would be allowed to return to my usual duties. In fact, I was so excited, that I kissed Cyler on the cheek before skipping out of the room and catching Patrick's forced smile. It was the first burst of happiness I’d felt since Kindle's passing, and I allowed it to flow throughout me.
I dressed in what had become my usual attire since moving to Dormas. Despite my modest habitual preferences, I liked the bright colors and slightly revealing nature of the dresses fashionable here. In Galla, my clothes reflected how repressed I felt; here, my style reflected freedom. I wore a teal form-fitting skirt that went all the way down to my ankles and paired it with a white shirt that hung off my shoulder and flowed freely around my torso.
During my walk to the general store, I spotted a familiar white head of hair and matching black attire—Mia. A small gaggle of women surrounded her. Upon further inspection, I saw a malevolent Jules standing apart from the group with Becca. They looked like they were headed out to the gardens to work and were both wearing uncaring expressions. Jules’ snarl was so thick that I imagined foam forming at the corner of her lips.
“I don’t see how they could let a scavenger within the Dormas borders. They’re all a bunch of ruthless murderers,” Jules sneered while crossing her thin arms. She was wearing a long, forest-green dress and was dripping with fine jewelry. The look felt jarring in comparison to the other Walker women standing around her. Did she wear that to work in the Gardens?
“I heard a rumor that they drink the blood of their dead,” Becca added in a less severe tone. Becca appeared to be latched to Jules’ side, and I mourned the brief camaraderie we shared. It was evident that she was now one of Jules’ flunkies.
“Wanna find out if it’s true?” Mia asked with a hard frown causing Becca’s eyes to widen. Mia stood proudly against them, and I noticed her fingers twitching. The slight fidgeting of her hand reminded me of her knife throwing aptitude, and I quickly stepped up to stop the confrontation from escalating.
“Good Morning, ladies. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I asked loudly while breathing in the fresh morning air, diverting their attention to me. Jules crossed her thin arms over her chest. I noticed that she was significantly sunburned from working in the gardens.
“Maybe for you. We have to prepare for harvest in this sticky heat,” she complained while fanning herself.
“What an admirable job. You know, I heard that the harvest should be extra plentiful this year. Cyler mentioned we should have a Harvest festival. Maybe get the whole Providence to help then have a big celebration,” I said excitedly with a large smile. I knew that Jules was mad about working in the gardens, but from what most of the other Walker women told me, it was a fairly fun job. They even took lunch breaks with the Miners, which had resulted in a lot of new relationships. “Kemper said that the apple orchard—” I started before Jules cut me off.
“Save it. We’ve got to go. I just wanted to make sure this Scavenger knew that she wasn’t welcome here, despite what my ignorant brothers may say.”
Her prejudice was frustrating. “Well, I guess you are the expert on not being welcome,” I replied with a sarcastic shrug, causing everyone’s mouths to gape open at me. Apparently, it was no secret how Jules stumbled upon harvest duty, but it wasn’t necessarily something brought up in polite company. Word travels fast in a small Providence, and I’m sure everyone would soon be gossiping about how Jules Black was put in her place by a mere Walker.
Mia gave Jules a sinister smile, spurring the group to move along. I watched them walk away and again wondered when I became such an outspoken person. Once they were out of earshot, Mia whirled around and graced me with a beautiful, genuine smile.
“My little Agrio to the rescue!” Mia gushed while looping her arm around mine. I felt terrible that Jules and her mini gang were bullying her.
“Jules is a petulant bully. We’re thankful to have your tribe join us in Dormas,” I said before I could stop myself. When did I start using “we” and “us” to describe the Dormas Leadership Council? I shook away the questions and conflict that plagued me.
“What brings you here?” I asked.
“We had three more infected Walkers drift about six miles outside of our tribal center. We decided to move up our migration plans. I came with the first half of the group; the second half will join us in two suns. Tallis doesn’t fully trust the vaccination. If we're honest, he doesn’t trust much of anything Emperor Lackley has touched.” I couldn’t help but agree with Tallis’ distrust of the Empire. “Besides,” Mia continued, “when word got to us that the Galla Guards escaped, Tallis felt that we needed to honor our end of the deal and provide some assistance.”
“He seems like a good leader,” I said, not willing to discuss Kindle's death and the Galla Guard's escape much further. Those lingering thoughts still preyed on me.
“He gets his best ideas from me.” She wiggled her white eyebrows. “Besides, I’m happy to spend some time with my little Agrio!” She squealed in a high-pitched voice that seemed foreign coming out of her warrior-like body. “I’ve missed you. I feel like we’re kindred souls out here in the outer rim of the empire. Plus, I wanted to hear if Huxley manned up and kissed you yet.” She winked at me.
Her statement caused me to trip over myself and fall flat on my face. Literally. I kissed the dirt floor of the city walk until Mia manhandled me back up to a standing position with her bright but wicked smile.
Her question brought on a slew of memories I wasn’t willing to analyze yet. I couldn’t help but remember the ghost of a kiss Patrick whispered over my lips. I wondered if Huxley would be gentle, or if he would kiss me the same way he spoke to me. Harsh. Passionate. Intentional. I blushed which caused Mia to
appraise me with an amused grin.
“I know that look,” she said with a wink. “Hell, I invented that look.” Mia clicked her tongue three times while her eyes stabbed every inch of my insecurities. I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. It was still weird to think about her and Huxley together.
After squirming under her observation, Mia squealed. “So you do like Huxley!”
“Don’t say that out loud!” I whisper-shouted at her while glancing around to make sure no one overheard us. I nervously wiped sweat from my brow.
“Why not?” she replied in yet another loud voice while skipping back down the street. Her white hair bounced with each step.
I was about to explain that Huxley couldn’t know what was happening, but then quickly shut my mouth. Why couldn’t I talk about it? With Josiah, I had to repress all my desires, but here, nothing was holding me back. I was allowed to like someone or even feel attraction. Here, I wasn’t unworthy of anyone.
“Okay, fine. Yes. I think Huxley is ridiculously handsome when he broods. When I’m not thinking about his frowning lips, I’m thinking about the way Cyler hugs me, or how Jacob holds my hands. How Patrick says my name, or how Kemper is perfect at everything, and how I want to soothe all that tortures Maverick. I think about all of them, Mia. More than I should.” Mia stopped backward-skipping to gape at me. We silently stood in the street until she broke out in uncontrollable laughter.
“You’re a true Dormas woman now!” she bellowed, causing me to cringe. “When I named you Agrio I had no idea just how wild you were! Get it, girl!!” She held up her hand for a high five but slowly lowered it when I merely stared at her in confusion.
“Come on, aren’t you just a little excited? You’ve got, hold up, I need to count.” She started ticking off names on her fingers, “…four, five, SIX men! That's gotta be a record somewhere!”
Mia’s flippant attitude made me smile, and she rewarded me with a slap on the shoulder. Her tiny frame concealed her strength well and, once again, I stumbled, almost falling until she caught me and firmly righted my frame.