by Gwynn White
He spun away, but lost his balance and fell onto his back. The hard contents in his pack drove into his back. The momentum of his fall pushed him over onto his stomach, and he slid down the slope.
A blue beam flashed off the mud. Emmit looked up to see Sara fire another shot at the mara. This time she got a headshot, and the mara's mental touch faded.
Adi.
Emmit, exhausted, managed to plant foot for balance, but as he rose, the mud slipped beneath his boot. He grabbed a bare branch and pulled himself up, stepping onto a weed-covered mound.
Sara climbed down to meet him, using the same weed covering to protect her balance. "Do you still have that injection stick I tossed you?"
He pushed his jacket down over the mud caking his stomach, dug in his pocket and took it out.
Sara took it and examined both sides. She exhaled, and indicated for him to step closer. "I'll do it myself."
Emmit didn't sense anything to fear, but he still wanted to know what the stick contained. He lifted a hand, and glanced up the hill toward Adi. Adi was nowhere to be seen. He didn't feel any rejects or maras either. The ones he'd controlled had broken free.
He felt a prick in his neck as Sara stepped close enough to hug him. Even in the mix of their sweat, she still smelled good, like a sweet flower he didn't recognize.
"Hey!" Emmit craned his neck away from her touch, but it was too late.
She dropped the stick, relief on her face, and no trace of guilt. "There." She turned to look back up the slope. "Do you see him?"
Something swirled inside Emmit's blood and mind, as though his systems were being probed by an alien substance small enough to move in a million different motions. He felt sort of sick, but also okay, and yet moving seemed unwise in case it interrupted the process at work inside him.
Sara stopped a few strides up the hill, turned and looked him up and down, and nodded—raised a placating hand. "It's okay. That's normal after the injection. I'll go check on Adi."
She turned before he could speak. His throat and tongue seemed disconnected from his thoughts and intentions. Instead of asking her what the injection was doing, he merely watched as she ascended the hill with careful steps. For the first time, Emmit wondered if Sara was on his side or his father's.
23
Cullen had reached the point where his adrenaline and breathing were in sync and he could run for much longer.
Scanis ran three strides in front of him. Her physical excellence, along with the rest of her team's, was impressive.
And this sent his thoughts to Torek and where he was—if he was all right, or even alive.
Where's Torek?
"Didn't I tell you he tricked you into this mission?" Willo spoke as clearly, as if she were running right beside him. That was impossible, since the exposed river bank was to his left, and a shallow stream of gently running water to his right. "He knows Ocia has no interest in your life after his telepaths steal your memories. Why do you care where he is?"
The words twisted daggers into his strength. He pushed on to regain his pace behind Scanis, trying to make sense of this new reality. These are all one-sided claims, he tried to tell himself.
"Showing you will steal precious time and energy, but fine, suit yourself."
Cullen's momentum forward ceased abruptly as he found himself in a command center, Torek's live profile on its main screen.
"What's your plan for us once we get to Vijil?" Torek was asking.
The eyes looking up at the screen blinked. "I have a group of trusted lieutenants to take it from there," Ocia said. "Would you like to be one of them?"
Torek scrutinized Ocia, absorbing the man's meaning without a flinch. Cullen wondered if he ever really knew his supposed friend and partner. Torek took on an air of cold professionalism. He nodded. "I do."
"Good," Ocia replied. "Then I'll show you those plans once we arrive on Vijil."
"Okay."
"And you'll tell Cullen only what we spoke about before."
Torek nodded. "Of course."
The vision vanished, and Cullen's sudden return to the heat of the jungle and the running disoriented him. He slowed to a stop and leaned against the river bank to let his mind catch up. If what Willo showed him was true, then Torek had sold him out without much fight at all. Of course, Torek had said.
Scanis slowed and turned. "You okay?" her voice in his head drowning out the croaking of a toad nearby.
Getting revenge on those who thought they could trick him felt like something that would make him more okay. Yeah. He took off again.
"Okay," she said, and turned to follow him. The rest of the group, now thirty or more meters ahead of them, ran along the river. "What happened back there?"
He hadn't mentioned Willo, nor had they really spoken about all that he'd seen in their collective memories. That was one aspect of what appealed to being part of this group—you didn't have to speak to share. Though where that line between privacy and openness was, he wasn't sure. Ehli seemed to have an easy time getting in.
Ehli.
"She just joined us, by the way," Scanis said. "Appears she passed the test."
Cullen sighed in relief. And her son? And Adi?
Scanis took three strides before answering, "They did well, but are on the run."
We should find them.
"No. Willo needs you right away."
A fallen tree blocked their path. Cullen slowed to duck under it. Then you go. Please. They're just kids. They don't need to prove their strength.
"Her son already has." She ducked under and they both regained their pace after the group disappearing around a bend in the river. "I'm sorry, but we're fighting for more than one life. We didn't ask Schaefer to bring an unaltered kid into this jungle."
This was the kind of numbers and greater good mentality he hated about the military. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small family of monkeys swing from branch to branch in the bright spots of light cast through holes in the canopy. If the smaller one crossed to a tree harboring a snake, would the parents fight for it or leave it behind? Only when there was no chance to save it. Until then, he imagined, they'd fight.
The leaders up ahead took a path up a slope and entered a narrow opening in the jungle.
"We're almost to the tunnel where Willo is," Scanis said.
Cullen continued pumping his strides, wrestling with her willingness to leave the boys to the risks of this environment.
He and Scanis crossed the river where the other rejects had, using three evenly-spaced rocks, jumped up onto the ridge, and pushed into jungle thick enough that they had to rely on the swishing of branches to guide him toward the group. The congestion of trees slowed them down, but then he saw one of the rejects. He lifted his rifle and shoved his way through.
"I look forward to meeting you," Willo said.
Ehli and I entered one of Schaefer's tunnels. He looked for the orange vine that had marked off the tree and tunnel before. He found a thin vine wrapping around the side of a tall tree near to the other reject.
"Yes. That's it," Willo said.
When we entered, Schaefer said it triggered something to tell him where to send Emmit. If we enter, will he know?
"We have a ghost switch that allows us to come and go without changing the all clear signal at Schaefer's terminal."
The lead reject circled the tree and dropped out of sight.
Cullen found the hole soon after and descended the ladder.
Scanis cast a shadow down the shaft as her boots clapped on the bars to a different rhythm than his.
Why have you brought me here? he thought to Willo, and stepped off the ladder. Shaking beams of light bounced off the walls farther down the tunnel, marking the passage of the other rejects. Cullen took a mini flashlight off his belt and clicked it on.
Scanis jumped down to land beside him.
Willo?
Scanis took a matching mini flashlight out of a zipper pocket in her pants and clicked it on.
She walked on. "Let's go."
After a few steps, with no response from Willo, he asked, What's with Willo?
Scanis looked at him.
What do you mean by failed experiments? How are you failures? What I felt... still feel… back there, as we ran. It was more camaraderie than I ever knew in the Guard. You read my thoughts. I could speak right back. No hiccups or worry about signals getting jammed or technology breaking.
"Yeah. We weren't nearly this organized or capable until Willo stole Schaefer's newest serum. He wanted to try it on some of us, but Willo switched the doses. She set us free before he figured out that once it did start working, he wouldn't be the one in control. I imagine that was what led to you coming here."
The dancing lights ahead went around a bend.
Something's still not right, he thought.
Scanis didn't look pleased, but she also didn't defend against the accusation.
Back there, Willo prodded Ehli to use her gift to calm and then touch a snake. It bit her in the face, and when we reached out to Willo, she was gone. Kinda like right now. We were talking, and then nothing.
"Willo's busy. None of us have unlimited reach or energy."
They neared the bend in the tunnel. The shuffling noises without accompanying voices felt strange at first, and then he realized: this is how rejects live. We don't need to talk out loud. The smell reminded him of a heap of sweaty suits left to mold, and was strong enough to make him suck his breath in through his mouth.
Scanis smirked. "Yeah, one of the side effects of our new physiology is enhanced perspiration." She wiped a hand across the front of her hairline, then off on her pants, and shrugged. "I'd like to think our other gifts make up for the aggressive pheromones. In fact, we believe that to mask them would weaken our communal abilities."
Her glance in his direction was a mix of mischief and invitation, which made him think about Ehli. Is she here?
Mischief turned to jealousy before she looked ahead down the tunnel. "Not yet."
They rounded the bend. Ahead was a white-lit room with tables. Rejects sat, busily eating and drinking. A cafeteria. Cullen felt more sick than hungry, but he could use a drink, and maybe after some rest his appetite would grow.
Cullen unclipped his rifle and handed it to the nearest reject as an offering of friendship. My people. I'm here to help.
Scanis nodded. "We have a few hours to rest before dark. We'll give you your rifle back with a full canister and some." Scanis motioned for him to keep walking. "Willo is waiting."
24
Emmit watched Sara climb up the hill. If Adi was dead....
He is. He had to accept it. He had no sense of his dear friend's presence.
As he watched, Sara stared at the ground, then fell to her knees. That's why he hadn't seen Adi before. He was in a dip in the slope.
Emmit turned away as she reached for Adi. As her sobs bled through the heavy, hot air, a rage coursed through him that could burn the whole forest if given a single ember. He wanted to cry with her, but decided instead to cling to the anger. His heart beat hard.
The wump, wump, of the frogs echoed his heartbeat. The sweet call from the birds' throats vibrated in his own. His legs itched with the tremble of the insects' clicking rattles. Even Dy's tiny heartbeat spiked up and down inside the shirt pocket Emmit kept him in. He hadn't lost his only friend in the passing of Adi, though the memory would ache for some time. Would this change his father's plans? Would it put their opportunity to dismantle their great enemy at risk?
Emmit licked a bead of salty sweat off his lip. Emboldened by his connection to the jungle, he decided that he could make up the difference. He just had to get to Fel Or'an and show his father.
He felt Sara's return, not from hearing her treads—which he could—but in her boots' impressions on the earth. She was scared. He read from her that she was worried he might not hold up, that her hope in Ocia and Schaefer would fail—even with the injection, which was supposed to enhance his ultra-abilities. That he was too young.
Emmit locked eyes with her. It's okay. I will make this right. Ultras are what they call people like me? he 'pathed, reading the identifier from her.
"Yeah." She wondered if he'd be the first successful one.
She doubted him. He was adolescent, which made him unstable even without ultra-therapy interfering with his growth. She mused that his abilities were more substantial than presuppositions based on appearance or what people thought of people his age, but after so many years in prison uniform, and being identified by his cell number and ranking age—J2-2—she reckoned it would be difficult to become Emmit Orson, the leader and hope for his people.
Sara's foot slipped, she scraped her hand against a tree, and landed on her back, sliding down to where Emmit could stop her. He caught her by the heels of her boots and reached over to grab her clean hand. Transitioning from her senses to his own was as easy as thinking it, and he used his strength to pull her up.
"Thanks." Her downward gaze lacked focus, her eyes red and puffy.
"You're welcome. Thanks for taking care of the mara."
"That wasn't the only one."
He watched the memory play in her mind of her levitor shot taking down a different mara. The more recent one lay on the hill below, not moving.
A new heartbeat caught his attention. Sprinkles. For some reason, he'd disappeared from Emmit's reach, but was now back and on his way. "I feel my wolverine. He's this way." Emmit pointed down the hill, and kept her hand in his as he reached for a nearby tree trunk for balance.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save Adi," Sara said. "I mean, this whole situation is so screwed I can barely tell up from down, but I can't help but feel guilty for encouraging you to come out here."
Emmit's thoughts returned to their conversation after he'd woken from his fever spell in the cafeteria. She'd told him that the medicine, or whatever, at Fel Or'an could help him, and that Ocia needed him and his mother to go, despite the risks. He read thoughts in her head about having hidden the rebellion, and their known existence in this jungle. Other than that, though, she wasn't responsible. She honestly believed that risking the trek to Fel Or'an was worth it. "This isn't your fault," he told her. His throat tightened as he thought of Adi. He swallowed through it and tried again. "I'm sorry about Adi, too."
Then the tears did break through, hot and biting under his eyelids. He switched hands with Sara as he shifted to plant a hand on a fallen tree's ridged bark. He released a high-pitched moan, which turned into a growl as he fought against displaying weakness. Sprinkles sped toward them from at least fifty meters northwest.
Sara's hand curled his into her palm as her other landed on his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm here for you, Em. I'll do whatever I can to help you get through this."
One of her memories came to life as he saw her older brother, the two of them were eight and twelve respectively, back home on Nootenn. Brand chopped logs in half with heaving strokes while she stacked the pieces on a wagon. They shared the joy of lives free from worry and the thoughts of adults who've loved and lost. Two years later, he was taken by the Osuna, and eight years after that, her time came, with the Osuna placing her in their medical program. That day had been tough, but not as difficult as those eight years of living where she'd shared joyful times with her brother. By that point, she was pretty much an adult. Before, she was only ten, and for the first time exposed to the harsh reality of those who could change her world and take away someone she loved without giving her or her family a say. Her parents did little to stop it. Her dad retreated into a shell of himself, while her mother tried to put on a good face, but wept in her room when she thought Sara was asleep.
As the memories played out, Emmit and Sara climbed down to flatter terrain, still too dense to see beyond ten meters. He held on to her hand, keeping the strength of her thoughts in the conduit. As her thoughts drifted to unrelated encounters with Ocia and Schaefer, Emmit let go. He saw enough of his father to be convinced. He real
ly was here. And besides, staying in someone's memories for too long was kind of like standing nose to nose with no clothes on, seeing who could hold eye contact longest.
"Sorry," Sara wiped her muddy hand on her pant leg. The tear in her jacket from the mara bolt exposed blisters on red skin, surrounding a charred wound as long as his hand.
"Does that hurt?" he asked.
She raised her brows with a playful smile. "Sure does." She walked over to a tree with leaves like saucers. He read her thoughts of using the pooled rain water, and walked over to wash with her.
She reached around the branch to ready the leaf, and waited for him to get his hands underneath.
"No, do your side first."
"I'll be okay for another minute."
He put his hands under the leaf and she dumped the water, cleaning off most of the blood and filth.
"Your father struggled to keep his past secret. A few years ago, he told me about what happened to you." She bent a stalk and let a full leaf douse her wound, gasping at the contact. "He made me promise not to tell anyone—and I never did. I can sense your hesitancy about trusting him. I don't blame you."
She moved to another leaf. A sprouting pink flower poked out of the clear water in its center.
"Who is Willo?" he asked before the warm water hit his cupped palms. His mom had concealed some things about her that maybe Sara knew.
She flinched, but continue pouring. "Willo? I don't know. Why?"
Emmit read her thoughts. She really hadn't heard that name before. "She warned me about the rejects before they arrived. She warned my mother first, and while my mom doesn't know who she is, she hid some of what she did know."
Emmit's hands were clean enough, but he moved on to another leaf to get his face doused, and knelt under it.
Sara took the hint and reached to tip the third leaf. "She warned you about the rejects?"
The water relaxed him with its unique way as it washed sweat and mud from his scalp and hair. Sprinkles reappeared in his mental web, nearby. He wiped his eyes and turned to see the dark furred creature lift its head through a hole in tree branches low to the ground. The ends scraped over its back, and a gash exposed pink flesh under the black fur. Emmit cringed at the pain in his foreleg, and backed off. The connection faded, but he continued walking toward them, pink tongue hanging between sharp teeth.