by L. S. O'Dea
“They are,” said Trip. “If you get too close, they will tear you apart. You don’t get a second chance with a Tracker.”
The hunting leader growled and snapped his teeth at the Trackers. They didn’t even blink.
“Did you see the Handler?” asked one of the hunting Guards. He was younger than the rest.
How did they know about Gaar? She glanced at him but he only shook his head.
The other Guards turned toward the young hunting Guard.
“I’ve heard rumors of one pair still in the wild,” continued the young hunting Guard.
“That’s an old tale to scare the children,” scoffed Trip.
The hunting leader held up his hand. “Now wait. If there’s a wild Tracker, maybe the old story has some truth to it.”
Trip shrugged. “I guess it’s possible. We need to send word to Benedictine that there’s a wild Tracker and maybe a Handler out here.”
The hunting leader grasped his arm. “We’ll tell Benedictine. Information like that could be valuable.”
Trip eased his arm free. “Okay. You should probably go then. Benedictine will want to know as soon as possible.”
The hunting leader smiled and clasped Trip on the shoulder. “In a few days. We’ve been in the woods for a long time and Benedictine doesn’t have to know exactly when we discovered this information. How about we hang out here for a little while?”
“Sure, why not,” said Trip, his voice cracking. It wasn’t an offer that he could turn down.
The Guards wandered into the building. A few stomped and growled at the captive Trackers as they passed.
“They’ll take this opportunity to rest. We need to leave. Now,” whispered Gaar.
He stood on the stone wall and she climbed onto his back, saying a quick prayer. She wasn’t looking forward to the descent. The ride up had been scary enough. He squatted and carefully made his way down, slipping only once. When they were on the ground, she dropped off his back and they moved silently through the forest.
An hour later, Gaar was still moving at a quick pace and she was beginning to lag behind. He waved for her to catch up. She took a deep breath and forced her legs to move faster. She considered begging him to take a break, but it wouldn’t do any good. He’d stop when he was ready. She needed to focus on something besides her aching muscles.
“What do you know about the Forest Witch?” She’d figured that if she were caught she’d be returned to camp and punished but never sold to a witch. She liked hearing about black magic in stories but she didn’t want to encounter it firsthand.
“Hush. There are things out here you don’t want to meet.” His face was tense and he moved cautiously through the brush.
She’d never seen him like this before. She crept closer until only a few feet separated them.
“Something’s following us,” he whispered as he unsheathed his knife.
The quiet rustle of vegetation behind them signaled that night was not the only thing approaching. He pointed to a large tree. She scurried up it and stopped on a limb high off the ground. He signaled for her to wait and then walked several yards farther before climbing another tree. He crouched on a low branch, knife in hand.
The woods were gray, the shadows growing wider as time passed. She waited, scanning the forest below, her heart pounding in her ears. What was hunting them, besides Guards? She pulled her knife out of the sheath and adjusted her position. Gaar always said that predators had to have patience, so the smart prey would too. She was still working on that. She shifted around again for a different angle. So far, she hadn’t seen anything dangerous in the forest, but she had traveled mostly with Mirra. She tried to relax her breathing, but it was coming in short pants. She had to calm down. Fear could be smelled. Fear attracted predators.
There was a soft whisper in the vegetation and a pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the brush. A few feet away were two more eyes and then another set. There were at least ten pairs, shining in the darkness.
One of the creatures stepped out of weeds. It had a long, thin body and stood on all fours. It was about three feet tall and over six feet long. Its features were similar to an Almighty’s but where an Almighty had a protruding nose and full lips, this creature had two slits for nostrils and thin lips. It was almost reptilian in its appearance.
What were these things? Were they dangerous? They didn’t look friendly. She glanced at the tree where Gaar waited. His attention was on the creature below. She turned her focus back to the lizard-man.
The creature’s tongue darted out, tasting their scent. A few more came out of hiding. They were all dark in color, probably a green or gray. It was hard to tell in the dim light. They continued testing the air with their tongues, searching for their prey.
The largest one walked past her tree to where Gaar waited. It raised its head and stood on its back legs, placing its front ones on the trunk of the tree. Its eyes narrowed and it snorted twice. The other lizard-men turned toward the sound.
Could it climb? Jump? Gaar wasn’t very high up. He couldn’t fight them all, could he? He didn’t seem worried. Actually, he was smiling a bit. She remained silent, afraid any sound would draw them toward her.
The lizard-man began to climb the tree, sinking it long claws into the bark like it was a loaf of bread. Gaar sheathed his knife and pulled a spear out of the quiver on his back. He grinned and threw the weapon. It struck the lizard-man in the neck, causing the creature to squeal and drop from the tree. It turned in circles, biting at the spear, trying to pull it from the side of its throat.
Four lizard-men surrounded the injured one. It immediately stopped trying to remove the spear and faced the others, slashing with its claws and teeth. The four backed away a little and flicked their tongues, tasting the blood in the air.
Two other creatures approached Gaar’s tree. He quickly threw spears at them, hitting one directly in the eye. It shuddered and collapsed. Another spear grazed the second lizard-man’s face and it backed away from the tree, stumbling over its dead companion.
The others, smelling death, turned away from the injured lizard-man, who took that opportunity to slink off into the forest. The remaining creatures now circled the dead one. One darted forward and bit into the fallen lizard-man’s gut and shook its head. The belly ripped open and it began to feast. The others pushed in and began eating.
She covered her mouth to stifle her gasp. She needed to stop watching but couldn’t tear her eyes away as the lizard-men tore hunks of flesh from the body and squabbled over choice pieces. A low whistle snapped her to attention. One of the creatures, hearing the sound, turned its bloody face toward Gaar. It flicked it tongue twice and then went back to feeding.
Gaar motioned for her to follow. He moved from branch to branch and tree to tree. She sheathed her knife and trailed after him along her own path, eager to put as much distance between her and the lizard-men as possible. Then she stopped. She couldn’t reach the next tree. Gaar continued moving forward.
She shifted around trying to find a spot close enough where she could leap to the next tree, but there was none. Gaar was getting farther away. Should she call to him? The lizard-men were still too close and who knew what else was out here? She had to do something before she lost sight of him completely. She was going to have to go to ground. She swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. It was not safe on the forest floor, but Gaar wasn’t stopping. Her hands trembled as she climbed down the tree and darted over to the path that he was using. She began scaling the trunk when something large grabbed her from behind. She jerked, trying to break the hold, but whatever had her was too strong. She started to scream when a clawed hand covered her mouth.
“Quiet, Little One. You bring Cold Creepers.” Mirra removed her hand from Trinity’s face. “Why you alone? Where Gaar-Mine?”
Mirra was going to scare her to death if she didn’t stop sneaking up on her. Her hand unsteady, she pointed ahead.
“Come,” said Mirra.
By the time they climbed the tree, Gaar was hurrying back. Mirra signaled for him to wait.
“Little One, where did you go?” he asked when they stopped next to him.
“I couldn’t reach the next tree. I had to go to ground.” Fear flooded through her again and tears welled in her eyes.
He pulled her into a quick hug. “I’m sorry. I thought you were behind me.”
“We go now,” said Mirra. “Cold Creepers finish soon. Then hunt again.”
Gaar took the lead, keeping her between him and Mirra. They stayed in the trees, moving farther away from the Cold Creepers. Finally, Gaar and Mirra decided that it was safe to stop as long as they didn’t go to ground.
She sat, panting. She was still not used to this much or type of travel. “I’m glad you’re safe, Mirra. I was worried that you might have run into the Guards.”
“Pfffft,” said Mirra. “No Guard catch me. No Guard catch Tracker.”
“You’re not invincible.” When Mirra started to scoff again, she added, “They caught the Trackers in the camp.”
Mirra frowned. “Tricked them. We go. Mirra free them.”
He reached out and stroked Mirra’s head. “Yes, we will go back, and we will set them all free.”
“We kill Guards.” It was not a question.
“Or we let Nirankan and the others kill the Guards,” he said, his eyes gleaming.
Mirra grinned. “Yes. That better. When we go?”
“Later. First, we’re going to take Little One to the Finishing Camp and then we need to check out the Handler camp.”
She tensed, waiting for the confrontation.
Mirra jerked around to glare at him. “Nirankan and others sick. They dying. Guards killing them. We free Trackers now.”
“No. We’ll show Little One the Finishing Camp. That way she’ll know that she can’t go home.”
“Tell Little One what happen her kind. We no need go.”
Would Gaar agree? She wanted to know, but she also needed to see the encampment. “Mirra, I want to find out if my friend and my brother are at the camp.”
“Why?” Gaar watched her closely. “What do you think you can do if they are there?”
She shrugged. She wasn’t going to tell him that she wanted to set them free if they weren’t happy at the camp or if something bad was going to happen to them. The latter seemed more and more likely since everyone that was not a Producer kept warning her not to go home.
“They can’t come with us,” he said. “I have enough problems keeping you safe. I don’t need two more Producers tagging along.”
“Unbelievable. You tell me that something horrible happens to my kind, although you won’t tell me what, and then you expect me to leave my family and friends to their fate.” She held up her hand when he started to interrupt. “Yet, both of you plan on freeing your kind from camps. What’s the difference? Why do Handlers and Trackers deserve to be free but Producers don’t?”
Gaar’s eyes narrowed but they glimmered with a hint of respect. “Producers are content where they are. They are happy in their ignorance. The Trackers and Handlers aren’t. Plus, I don’t have to babysit them. They can survive on their own.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. He had a point, but there was no way that she wasn’t going to at least go home and get her mom and Remy if their fate was as terrible as Gaar hinted.
“Then why go Finishing Camp?” asked Mirra.
She glanced from one to the other. Gaar wouldn’t back out now, would he?
He met her gaze and held it. “Something tells me that if Little One doesn’t see this for herself, she’ll sneak away as soon as our backs are turned.” He raised a brow. “It’ll be stupid of her and she’ll end up dead, but she’ll do it anyway.”
How did Gaar know what she was planning? Was she that obvious? She’d have to convince him that she wasn’t going anywhere or he’d never take his eyes off her again.
Mirra frowned at her. “We go Finishing Camp, then Little One stay with Mirra.”
“If it’s as bad as you say, then yes, I will.” She cringed a bit on the inside with the lie.
“Good.” Mirra smiled. “It real bad.”
She sighed. It really wasn’t something to be happy about, but Mirra didn’t understand things like being polite or common courtesy, so it was no use getting upset with her.
“Then it’s settled,” said Gaar as he took food out of his backpack. “Next stop, the Finishing Camp.”
After dinner they lay down for the night. She was tucked, warm and safe, against Mirra’s chest high in the tree. She wiggled in closer but sleep eluded her. Tomorrow, she’d have to sneak away. Mirra and Gaar might see it as a betrayal. They were her friends but she had to go home. She still wasn’t sure if she’d stay. Mirra growled in her sleep. She wasn’t even sure if she had a choice in the matter.
CHAPTER 14
TROY STOOD NEAR HIS KITCHEN WINDOW, tapping his fingers against his thigh. He’d delayed long enough. Bell should be home by now. He grabbed the container of soup and headed out the door. Tonight would be the seventh evening since Trinity left and his last midnight shift for a month. Although he didn’t like loose ends, he couldn’t wait any longer for Jackson to return with news. The poor kid must have fallen in the river and drowned. The Guard was probably having trouble locating her body. It was sad, but he’d make sure that something good came out of this tragedy. Her disappearance was the key to saving Remy. Once Bell’s reputation was ruined, he would fall out of favor with Benedictine and it would be easy to persuade the other Lead Producers to back Remy for re-pairing.
He shifted the container to his other arm. It was hot. It had to be for his plan to work. He stopped outside the guard shack, taking a deep breath. Once he set this into motion there was no turning back. He opened the door.
“Troy, what are you doing here?” Butch was sitting by the window with the best view of the forest.
He smiled wide. “I’ve brought the soup for Tulip. Tina just finished it this morning.” He handed the container to the other Lead Producer. “It works best when eaten hot.” As far as he knew, it made absolutely no difference. “I can wait here while you take it to her.”
“Thank you. I’ll let Tulip know to reheat it.” Butch walked across the room, placing the pan on the counter.
“Ah, you should probably go now. I know how bad the sickness can get when they’re breeding.” He winked at the other Lead Producer. “It is your fault she’s in this condition.”
Butch’s face reddened all the way to his ears as he moved back to his chair and sat. “She’s stopping by later today, if she’s feeling up to it.”
That wasn’t good enough. He frowned. “And if she’s not, she has to suffer for another day when you have a remedy sitting right here.”
“You know we can’t leave once we’re on duty.” Butch’s face lit up. “Will you take it to her?”
That would not work, but what reason could he give? Telling Butch that he needed him to leave so he could spike Bell’s tea was out of the question. “I would. Really, I would.” Come on think. “But, my leg has been plaguing me with the cold weather. It was a challenge to walk over here after being at work all night.” He rubbed his thigh for effect.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Butch’s face fell.
“The price of age. You get used to the small aches and pains. I’ve heard they get worse.” He grimaced in a joking manner.
Butch nodded, lost in thought.
He gently squeezed the other Lead Producer’s shoulder. “There aren’t many Producers up and about yet this morning. I’m sure Bell is already home and in bed. I’ll sit right here”—he moved his hand to the back of the chair—“and make sure nothing happens.”
“I do live just around the corner. I’d only be gone a few minutes,” said Butch.
“No one would ever have to know.”
“And it’s not like I’d be leaving my area unattended.”
He smiled kindly when he wanted to
grin like an idiot. “Exactly. I’ll be right here the entire time. I promise.” And he would, just not in the chair.
Butch nodded and stood, clasping Troy’s arm. “Thank you. I’ll hurry.”
He sat, stretching out his leg and rubbing his thigh again. “Take your time. Well, don’t be gone too long. I do need to go home and sleep.”
“Of course, and thank you again.” Butch grabbed the soup and left.
As soon as the other Lead Producer was out of sight, he walked over to the counter. The new batch of sun tea sat near a window. He glanced outside one more time, just to be sure no one was around, and then pulled his tincture of valerian out of his pocket. He tapped a few drops into the pitcher and then a few more. That was double what he took to sleep but Bell would be drinking this over a long period of time. He added another drop. It was a large pitcher. He tipped the vial again until another few drops fell out. Bell had said that the tea helped to keep him awake. Would that affect the potency of the valerian? He dumped the rest of the tincture into the pitcher. That should do it. Of course, it might kill Bell, but really, who cared? He’d prefer to humiliate and ruin the older Lead Producer but death would work too.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Butch had returned and he was on his way home. It was a beautiful autumn morning with just a hint of crisp in the air. It was perfect sleeping weather which was good because he was exhausted. He’d gotten very little rest the past few days. He’d been too busy planning how to save Remy and ruin Bell, but now, everything was ready. It would all fall into place tonight. It had to. He’d gone over it again and again, covering every conceivable hurdle. He nodded at a Guard as he walked past the crates of produce and then stopped. Jackson stood a few feet away, counting the boxes on a cart. He gritted his teeth and resumed his normal pace. What was Jackson doing here now?
As he passed, Jackson whispered, “We need to talk.”
“Same place as before.” He nodded at another Guard and then strolled to his house. He went inside and leaned against the door. It would be okay. Jackson had probably found Trinity’s remains. He’d tell the Guard to forget about it for now. Tomorrow, after Benedictine was notified of the escape, Jackson could look like a tracking genius by finding the body in record time. He took a deep breath, peeked outside and then left, casually making his way to the west side of the camp.