The Archer: Arrow's Flight Book # 2

by Casey Hays

  “It’s time to go.”

  After this, a flurry of activity fills the cabin. Max staunches the fire. Justin gathers the pans still scattered near the sink and stacks them inside each other for easy packing. Jesse rolls sleeping bags. And Ian, clenching his jaw against the avalanche of responsibilities which tumble down on him, works with Diana to prepare a special pack of all the things Tabitha may need for the very short stops he has planned.

  Diana was begrudgingly persuaded that this decision is the best option for Tabitha, and she hovers over Ian, checking and rechecking his gear with Tabitha draped across her arm. She bombards him with information on how to care for her baby.

  And Ian has no more time to spare for me. So I’m left with a myriad of unanswered questions.

  “I carved a special tip for this bottle.” Justin approaches Ian carrying one of the water bottles that now contains a pointed but smoothed-out wooden top rather than a plastic one. “I designed the opening to leak out a little bit of fluid when you tip it like this. . .” He demonstrates, and three drops of water drip out into his palm. “It should leak slowly enough for her to swallow without much trouble. And this way, you won’t have to stop to give her water. She needs the water—more than food.” His hand drops onto Ian’s shoulder as he extends the bottle. “Try to get her to drink as much as possible. And take her straight to the lab. Not the clinic.”

  “Right.”

  Ian tucks the bottle into a side pocket of his pack. He comes to me, taking up my hand.

  “I need to tell you so much more, but—“

  I stop him. “I know. There will be time later. Help Tabitha. Whatever you have to do, do it. This is all I want you to think of for now. And please, be careful.”

  He touches the hilt of the knife sheathed in my belt.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers.

  I nod, smiling at him reassuringly. “Just be ready,” I finish.

  He steps in, his lips finding mine. I hold on to this kiss as if it’s our last.

  “I’ll be back for you,” he whispers. “A couple of days, and I’ll head back.”

  When Ian is ready, Diana unwillingly settles Tabitha against his chest, wrapping the long blanket into the hammock-like sling and tying it to his waist. Jesse arranges the pack, and helps Ian into it.

  “Please be careful with her,” Diana places a hand flat against the bundles of blanket. Her lack of sleep mixed with her bouts of crying have left blood red circles around the crystal blue of her eyes. Another flood of tears threatens to emerge any moment.

  “I’ve got her, Diana.” Ian smiles and lifts her chin. “I’ll have her in Eden in no time. Next time you see her, she’ll be good as new.”

  “You promise?” Her chin quivers beneath his fingers.

  His eyes dart toward Justin, but then, he steadies his gaze. “Yes.”

  Diana emits a tiny whimper, wanting but not daring to believe this promise. When Ian looks at me, I see the hopelessness there, and I know he cannot guarantee his words. And my tears refuse to stay hidden. His gaze lingers a second longer before he turns away from me.

  The other boys, packs on their backs, wait outside, and Ian and Justin join them in the grass. They talk in hushed and hurried voices, gesturing occasionally, until they appear to come to some sort of agreement. With a quick wave of his hand, and Tabitha safe against his chest, Ian takes off at a jog toward the road. In another blink, he’s gone.

  Diana sucks in a tiny, choked breath.

  “Ready?” Justin calls out. He adjusts his heavy pack with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Diana doesn’t have to be asked twice. She trundles down the steps and hurries up the path after Ian as if she might catch him to tell him she’s changed her mind. Her much less bulky pouch bounces at her side. Max hoists his pack a notch higher, addresses Jesse in his deep tone, and they follow her.

  I close the door behind me and join Justin on the grass, and we move together up to the asphalt road.

  “The skies look good today. We may not have to run quite as much,” he says, testing my reaction. “I know it’s not your favorite thing.”

  To my relief there isn’t a cloud in sight. My insides churn at the mere thought of running again, and I make a silent wish that the weather cooperates even for just one day.

  Justin pulls his small knife from his pocket and scoops up a lone piece of wood from the ground. He stripes the bark, smoothing it with the sharp edge as we walk. He’s calm, but I notice an alertness about his gait, and he constantly checks our surroundings, tossing his eyes toward the others several yards ahead.

  “I told Ian we’d stick to the main highway today. He’s coming back once Tabitha is in Eden,” he pauses, chips at the wood. “Of course, his plans will partially depend on his parents.”

  This grabs my attention. Ian has parents. I’ve known this all along, but I’d somehow forgotten that they would factor into our lives.

  “Depend how?” I ask.

  “On whether they let him come back. He’d be smarter to just lay low and wait to hear from us, but knowing him, well, you know him.” His knife whisks the air. “We were supposed to be gone on a two week camping trip. That’s it. But we knew we’d be breaking that rule before we left Eden. By the time we made it to your village, two weeks had come and gone.” He breathes deep through his nostrils. “We’re all pretty much toast when we get back. My parents may never let me out of the house again. And after Ian’s last disappearance, his parents will probably tie him to his bed.”

  “With titanium chains,” I add dryly. Justin laughs.

  “Right.” He pauses in his carving, and his eyes dance back and forth. I break away from his gaze, and watch the ground pass under my feet.

  “Ian says there is no sign of the . . . Set-Typhon.”

  On cue, his hand stills on the wood again, and he scans the trees.

  “Nope. No sign at all. Of course, we’ve been trapped inside. But I don’t think we need to worry about them.”

  He keeps a steady watch on the tree line after this.

  His actions belie his words.

  He’s worried.

  Chapter 10

  We walk for half a day with no sign of storms, and by the time we stop to eat, a portion of my tension has eased a bit.

  As for Diana, despite her pregnancy, her physical strength is resilient, and I’m a bit in awe. Her emotions should be raw, but she shows no sign of it. She leads us, marching several yards in front, with Max and Jesse close on her heels per Justin’s insistence. Her determination to reach her daughter spurs her on. I see it in the boys; they are as impressed with her as I am. She is in no way weak.

  We pass only one town on this stretch, and it is as desolate as every other. Cars rusted out and broken with tires and doors missing. Houses, some in shambles from one hundred years of disuse, others blown to bits and standing in a ragged, wooden devastation of gaping holes. This world I’ve never seen before sits in ruins. It has never recovered—just as Ian said. If I didn’t know better, I would be inclined to concede that my village contains the only survivors. If I didn’t know better . . .

  As I have done the entire day, I walk with Justin, watching as he turns one average piece of wood after another into some brilliantly carved masterpiece. Each time he finishes one, he holds it up for me to admire before cracking it by his hand and chucking the broken pieces with all his mighty strength far over the tallest, distant trees. And his strength is truly astounding.

  He leaves no trail of artwork behind for someone to follow, but I manage to rescue one in the form of a butterfly, tucking it hurriedly into my pouch for safekeeping to his amusement.

  No fearsome member of the clandestine Set-Typhon has had any desire to bother us today, either, and I hold my breath in hopes that Justin is right, and they’ve forgotten us.

  The sun burns bright and hot above us, and the landscape between villages is a vast contrast to the ruins. Where they have been demolished, the countryside itself appears lush
and fertile, sprouting with green grass and wildflowers. And for the first time on this journey, I can honestly admit to feeling relatively safe without Ian.

  “I appreciate how you have cared for Diana on this journey.”

  We’ve walked for some time without much conversation, but I feel the need to express my appreciation. I don’t know Justin well, and yet he’s gone out of his way to help us without asking for anything in return. It has been a mighty task, and not once has he grumbled for all its trouble. My heart is truly grateful.

  “Sure,” he smiles. “She’s cool. Of course, when we were running through those storms, I did take a spill that nearly convinced her I wasn’t such a great traveling companion.”

  “You did?”

  He shakes his head, humiliated. “Tripped over a fallen branch. Didn’t even see it until I was right up on it. I stumbled in the dark, and before I knew it, we were flying through the air.”

  I’m stunned. “And Diana wasn’t hurt?”

  “Nope. She and Tabitha neither one had a scratch. I, however, broke my ankle.” He laughs softly, pausing to raise and rotate his ankle at knee level for emphasis. “Took a couple minutes to heal up. If it hadn’t been for that, I could safely say I’d mastered the tuck and roll.”

  My confused glance makes him laugh again.

  “It’s a technique we learn in class. Tuck your chin into your chest and curl your body to make for a softer landing.” He shrugs. “My instructor, Jones—he would have been pretty impressed. Except for the broken ankle, of course.”

  “So Jones is your teacher?” A quick image of my own instructor, Madam Belle, flashes before me, but I shove it away before it can take a firmer hold. “What else does he teach you in these classes?” I ask.

  His jaw tenses almost imperceptibly before he shrugs again. “Mostly just how to control ourselves. How to conduct ourselves when we leave the city. How to be discreet. To keep our abilities under wraps, you know? It’s not something we like to advertise. We don’t want to scare people or give them the wrong idea. We want peace like everyone else. We’re not a threat just because we happen to be . . . different.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, Jones is the expert in helping us reach our goals.”

  “Right,” I nod in thought. Ian expressed the same idea just this morning. If only we’d had time to finish our conversation.

  We walk a few steps with only the sound of the knife whisking against wood. The breeze blows a soft whispering song. Jesse’s laughter peals out ahead of us, and I think I hear Diana’s faint giggling join in. It’s a refreshing sound.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say after we’ve walked in silence for a good while. He works with his knife, his latest piece of wood slowly becoming a bird.

  “Sure.”

  “Ian—he mentioned something before he left, and I was wondering if you—” I hesitate, suddenly vexed with the idea that asking Justin to finish what Ian started falls in the realm of a sort of betrayal. Justin turns, concerned.

  “What is it, Kate?”

  I chew on my lip, regretting that I opened this door. Dare I ask? Do I really want to know the answer, or would it be best to remain ignorant about some things of this world?

  In the middle of this thought, I check myself. I didn’t leave the Village to remain oblivious. I need to know. I should know.

  And so . . . I simply ask it.

  “What is Serum?”

  Justin keeps walking. He keeps carving. And only his jaw, flexing with a sudden tension, indicates that he heard my question at all. He doesn’t answer immediately, but I’ve pondered this question all morning, debated whether I should broach the subject. And the lone crunching of broken asphalt under our feet invites a tight knot to twist up my insides.

  “Ian told you about the Serum?” His voice hitches a bit, and he clears his throat.

  “Yes.” I crease my brow. “I mean, no. He didn’t.”

  Justin’s lips are a tight line. “Then we should leave it at that. He shouldn’t have said anything. He’s not supposed to talk about it with—“

  He stops himself, digs his knife deeper into his bird carving, erratically cutting at it. An irritation clouds his face.

  “He’s just not supposed to talk about it.”

  He huffs a heavy breath, his hands relax from their work, and he shakes his head.

  “So. He spilled his guts, did he?” He speaks to himself rather than to me, his tone low and frustrated. “And then, he stopped right in the middle of the spillage. And now, I have to clean it up.” He stops walking and stands in the middle of the path, a scowl transforming his features.

  “I—I’m sorry,” I say. “You don’t— never mind.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

  He takes two long steps, striding past me up the road, and I have to jog to catch up with him. Up ahead, Max’s deep laugh, followed by Jesse’s, echoes over the trees. It catches Justin’s attention briefly before he returns to his carving, slicing off another sliver of wood as he walks.

  “So, you aren’t going to tell me?”

  He sighs heavily, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t know about us. And you definitely shouldn’t know about the Serum.”

  “But I do know about you,” I counter. “It’s not as if you’ve done your best to keep the secret.”

  He takes a few more steps, contemplating this. “I shouldn’t say anything,” he says soundly.

  “I know Serum gives you these unnatural abilities. Ian said this much.”

  I see his nostrils flare once with a puff of invisible breath. “Great,” he mutters under his breath.

  “He told me at first it was caused by something that was released in the air and the water in Eden long ago. But today, he began to explain the truth. And then the rain stopped, and he had to go.”

  “The truth is complicated,” Justin says dryly.

  “I can handle complications,” I say, resting a hand on his arm to make him look at me. I want him to see my face. To see that I am strong enough to handle anything. “I think I have a right to know the truth.”

  He looks at me sidelong, digs another chunk of wood from this carving. And then he sighs, dropping his hands to his sides.

  “Are you always so reasonably persuasive?” he asks, and his mouth lifts ever so slightly into a barely conceivable smile.

  “I am,” I say matter-of-factly.

  His eyes flit around us, as if he expects someone to be listening, and his intensity makes me examine our surroundings myself. “Look, the Serum is what counteracts the toxin in our bodies,” he says quickly. “And it causes what you’ve seen in us. These . . . side effects.”

  “And what is toxin?”

  “It’s like . . . a poison. Okay… that’s all I’m saying. Do not ask me anything more.”

  He trudges forward, and I follow, determination eating me from the inside out.

  “And what are side effects?”

  “Kate . . .” He breathes my name like a slow ache.

  “Please,” I interject before he can close the conversation completely. “It’s my last question.”

  He glances at me less than convinced, licks his lips nervously. I see the resistance in his eyes. He won’t tell me much without my squeezing just a little—pinching off what I can.

  “Have you ever had a bad reaction to a medicine? Like a rash or stomach ache?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, remembering the one time an herbal remedy brought on a terrible headache.

  “It’s something like that. Only in us, it causes this extra-human . . . power, I guess. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

  He rushes the explanation without taking a breath, as if the information will be less damaging if it flies out of his mouth at a faster rate. As if in this way, he’s not truly breaking the Code.

  “But . . . what caused the toxin?”

  “I don’t know,” he shrugs reluctantly, not meeting my eyes. “An explosion, probably, during the Fall. There are oth
er theories—too many. We don’t really know when the . . . contamination in Eden happened. It was before my time. It was before my grandparents’ time for that matter.”

  He pauses, and I know he’s considering whether he should say more. After a moment, he looks at me, briefly.

  “A lot of people got sick,” he whispers concentrating on his carving again. “And most of them . . . died.”

  I look around us. He speaks only of Eden, but I see things on a much grander scale. An atrocity that blankets the world. It’s what war does. It’s what men did.

  “But . . . why did they stay in Eden?” I ask. “Why didn’t they leave when people became sick?”

  “They didn’t know. They just . . .”

  He stops abruptly, sending a silent signal with a twitch of his shoulder—an indication that this is all he’s willing to share. His knife works into the wood again. I prod him.

  “What does the Serum look like?”

  He purses his lips, exasperated. “Look, I’ve already said too much.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Who am I going to tell?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Oh, yes. The Code is the point, isn’t it?”

  His eyes flash an angry gleam, and I can nearly read his mind. Perhaps saying the word aloud breaks it already.

  “No,” he answers evenly, purposely keeping his voice as cool as spring water. As if what I’ve said holds nothing of importance. I jut my jaw in his direction, cross my arms until he sighs once more and shakes his head. “You know too much; you’ve seen too much. The Code is broken whether I tell you more or not.”

  I nod once. “Then tell me more.”

  He frowns, and it deepens a darkness that falls over him like black smoke. His eyes meet mine, and a chill runs through me. I see his anguish plainly. “You’ve somehow managed to break me, Kate,” he whispers.

  “What?”

  “Look, there are things Outsiders are never to know.” He shrugs, uncomfortable with the inference. I’m an Outsider, and he’s about to draw a dividing line. “We are trained from very young to honor the Code, to keep our abilities secret, and therefore protect ourselves.”