She decided to not be hard on Jakob, though. He was nice. Made her laugh, and she him, which was a blessing in its own way. He also had proved he could fight when it mattered. He might not be stealthy or well versed in how to survive the new wild, but he’d also been cooped up in a house, learning how to farm small crops in boxes. He was older, but he was the more innocent of the two.
Ella began spreading the tarp over the soy plants. She looked up at the sky. The sun was nearing the horizon. “Anne, I think we have time to forage. See what you can find.”
Anne swatted Jakob’s arm. “C’mon. Time for Anne’s survival school.”
“We’re going...alone?” Jakob asked.
Anne squinted at the boy. He seemed more skittish now, outside of the truck, but certainly more than the previous night in the church. She supposed it was because he’d nearly been killed. He’ll get used to that, she decided, and waved him to follow her. “Your dad’s out here, right? Probably keeping an eye on things.”
“I suppose,” Jakob said, rooted in place until Anne moved into a stand of trees. Then he hurried to catch up.
Not afraid enough to leave me on my own, Anne noted, feeling glad that she now had a foraging companion. She never let her mother see, but these little foraging trips, alone in the wilderness, terrified her. It wasn’t the predators. She could outwit most anything in the wild, hiding her small body with ease. She simply feared that she’d find a bloodied and emptied camp when she returned. At least now, with Jakob, if she found her mother dead or missing, she wouldn’t be alone. It was a horrible way to think, she knew, but not unrealistic. She’d seen friends eaten. Had listened as they were plucked from their hiding spots and torn apart. The wild tended to take people away from her. Before finding Jakob and Peter, their group had been whittled down to just she and her mother—who she thought survived by the strength of her convictions, to right the wrong she’d helped perpetrate.
So Anne took Jakob along, knowing that if her mother died, she’d still have him, and if she died...it wouldn’t be alone. Jakob didn’t need to know that, and she hoped it wouldn’t happen, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his presence would provide if death finally claimed her.
“Yes!” Anne scurried over a patch of soy, heading for the base of a tree. She began plucking small green plants growing in the moss that covered the lower bark.
Jakob crouched beside her. “What is it?”
She held up one of the small, three leafed plants. “Clovers. Duh.”
“Clovers... Are they for luck?”
“First, four leaf clovers are for luck,” Anne said. “Second, all clovers, three or four leaf, are edible and non-ExoGenetic.” She scooted to the side. “Help me collect them.”
They worked in silence, plucking the small plants at the roots, stuffing them into a cloth bag that Anne pulled from her pocket. When there wasn’t a single clover left, Anne moved on, checking the bases of all the trees. Where there was moss, there was often other edible things. Jakob split away from her, searching on his own. He was only ten feet away, but Anne kept an eye on him, making sure they didn’t get too far apart.
“What about this?” Jakob plucked something from the ground. He turned around, holding it up victoriously as Anne came to see what he’d found. “Mushrooms are—”
She swatted the long stemmed, white topped mushroom from his hands, shattering it like it was made of glass.
“The hell!” Jakob grumbled. “We used to have mushrooms like that all the time.”
“Did you also have diarrhea, nausea and stomach pain resulting in a coma? Wait, no, you didn’t, because you’re still alive.” She pointed at the mushroom’s remains. “That’s a Destroying Angel. It would kill you.”
Jakob deflated. “Oh.”
“Just...only pick what I tell you to, okay?” Before he could reply, a bright patch of yellow caught her attention. She gasped and hurried toward the glow. When Jakob caught up to her, he was breathless, but more from panic than running, she thought.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Dandelions.” She pulled one from the ground, carefully pushing her hands down, freeing the roots from the moss in which it grew. She held the plant up for Jakob to see, then popped the whole thing in her mouth and chewed. “They’re good. You can eat the whole thing.”
Noting his disgusted face, she searched the area and was pleased to find a few more edible bits of vegetation clinging to life at the fringe of the world’s genetically aggressive crops. She pulled a small sampling of the plants from nearby trees, combined them in her hand and held it out for Jakob to see.
He looked dubious. “What is it?”
“Clovers, dandelion, chive and a Chanterelles mushroom. None of it will kill you. Or even make you sick.” She carefully placed bits of chive atop the flat, golden mushroom head, placed a few cloves on top and then wrapped it all up in a dandelion stem, the bright flower looking like an ornate bow on top of a present, which in Anne’s mind, wasn’t far from the truth.
She placed the small package in Jakob’s hand. “Eat it.”
He looked down at the slowly unraveling vegetation. “It won’t kill me?”
“It’s one of the last things on Earth that won’t,” she said.
He let out a long breath, then put the whole thing in his mouth. His nose scrunched up as he chewed through the dandelion stem, but then he looked surprised, and pleased. “Not bad.”
“Right?” She pulled another dandelion and put it in her bag. “Now we just need to gather enough for four people.”
Jakob frowned. Looked at the sky. Dusk and all its heinous possibilities was nearly upon them. “We better get to it then.”
The two worked in near silence, gathering small plants under Anne’s direction. Jakob paid attention to everything she said, which made her happy, and he willingly tried everything she pointed out, even the stuff that tasted gross. Within twenty minutes, they had enough for a decent-sized salad. It wouldn’t be filling anyone’s belly, but would provide some nutrition, and the pleasure of eating something real.
As they snuck back to camp, Anne told Jakob how to hide, how to detect predators—with his ears, with his nose, with his eyes. “If you’re going to survive,” she told him. “You’re going to have to learn from the best.”
He laughed at that, but the very fact that she was still alive made him listen. They approached the camp in silence, practicing stealth, which Anne thought Jakob needed the most help with. He even breathed loudly. But with some pointers, he became silent enough that they crept to within thirty feet of her mother and Peter. They were standing close; the way her mother used to with Eddie. They were speaking quietly, but their voices carried in the abject silence.
Anne flinched at what she heard, but when she looked at Jakob for confirmation that he had heard the same, he just looked confused.
“What?” he whispered.
Anne held a finger to her lips, but it was too late.
“C’mon out,” Ella said, sounding casual. “What did you find?”
Anne pushed herself up and walked out like she hadn’t been spying. She held up the bag of foraged plants.
Ella took it and looked inside. “Wow. You guys found a lot.”
Her praise was out of character. She’d normally just take the plants, comb through them and then divvy them up, eating in silence. Peter seemed to bring out a different side of her. A kinder side. Anne liked it, but didn’t trust it. If her mother got soft, it would be dangerous for both of them. Then again... Anne looked at Jakob and he smiled at her, munching on a dandelion. I’m getting soft, too. And if what she had heard was true, she understood why, and why remaining strong was more important than ever.
After a quiet meal of foraged salad and protein bars, the foursome crawled beneath the shelter Ella had created. The tarp, which had been rubbed with tree sap collected from some nearby pines, was laid out over the soybean crop. She’d covered the sticky surface with soil and a collection of strong smelling
plants. They’d be invisible to the eyes and noses of any predators that happened past them, as long as nothing stepped on them and no one snored.
Under the tarp, the air got humid and hot, but Anne was accustomed to these conditions. She preferred it to the wide open space or the hard surface of the church. Felt safer despite the lack of walls.
But sleep wouldn’t come. The words she’d heard, spoken by Peter, kept repeating through her head, fueling her insomnia. “Are you going to tell her I’m her father?”
Her mother hadn’t replied to the question before Jakob gave away their position, but the question itself implied her mother believed him to be her father, too. And that made no sense. None at all. But she hoped it was true. Because it meant she had a family. A brother.
A chill ran through her body and she was gripped by a sudden anxiety. If she had a family, it also meant she could lose a family, and if life had taught her anything, she knew in her heart that she would lose them.
She slowly reached out her hand, finding Jakob. He flinched, but then took her hand in his. They squeezed each other, providing comfort in the dark, eventually falling asleep.
Anne woke in the early morning hours. She couldn’t see the sky beneath the tarp, but her internal clock knew that the sun was still an hour off. She also knew her fears from the night before were well founded. Something was moving around the outside of the tarp, near her feet. She held her breath, fighting the urge to pull her legs higher. She nearly screamed when Jakob squeezed her hand. She hadn’t realized they were still holding on to each other. Don’t react, she thought, don’t move.
But then he did.
Downward.
Dragged out of the tarp.
31
Sunlight glistened through Spring’s thin green leaves, which were shifting about in the wind like they were nothing more than a layer of algae-colored water. The emerald light they cast, mixed with diamonds of orange, created a magical kaleidoscope. In the light was warmth. Safety. Familiarity.
Peter recognized the view. He’d stood here before, in the street, in front of his childhood home. He felt young again, seeing the world in more vivid colors than he remembered. But this is what it looked like, wasn’t it? This is what the world had felt like back then. The magic of it had faded with age, but he remembered it now.
Missed it.
He wept, looking up, the tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said to no one. Maybe the trees. Maybe his subconscious.
Motion tugged him from the view. He resisted, but the trees vanished in a blink, replaced by darkness. The crunch of vegetation and the swish of a plastic tarp replaced the quiet of the memory made dream. The calm he had felt fled in the face of terror and rage, the latter of the two controlling his motions.
He rolled out from under the tarp, slipping out of the intolerably humid blanket and into the clear night. He moved instinctually, having no memory of what set him off, but somehow knowing it had been Jakob’s scream that pulled him from the dream and set him moving. The boy’s voice still echoed in his ears. The shotgun in his hand came up as a shadow descended over him.
Too late.
His arm was pinned beneath a boney limb.
The weight hit his chest next, driving the air from his lungs.
He froze when the cold edge of a blade—not a claw—pressed against the skin of his throat. He waited for the attacker to drag the knife across his neck, sever the artery, drain his life. But the assault stalled. The knife pulled back.
“You’re dead,” Ella said, as she leaned back.
“Ella?” Peter’s body tensed, and he fought the urge to backhand her off of him. “What the hell?”
“A lesson better learned before it’s real.” She stood up over him. “You’re dead because you came out.”
“I heard Jakob—”
“And now you’re dead.”
“God-damn it, Ella. Where is Jakob?”
“Here,” Jakob said.
With his night adjusted eyes, Peter found Jakob sitting at the foot of the tarp looking confused. “Are you hurt?”
“Just confused.” The boy rubbed his head. “Maybe a bump on the head. Something pulled me out of the tarp.”
Peter sat up, glaring at Ella. “Why? What’s the point?”
“If you had stayed hidden, you’d be alive.”
“I am alive.”
“Only because I’m not an ExoGen.”
“And you expect me to just cower under a tarp while my son is taken?”
“Anne and I are alive because of this rule. Once hidden, stay hidden. No matter what. People were taken during the night, and we survived by not moving.”
“Maybe some of those people would still be alive if you had.”
Even in the dull blue moonlight, Peter could see the disappointment in Ella’s eyes. Had she really thought he’d buy into this? That he’d agree to not chase after his son, if he was taken during the night? Hell, he’d already faced down a hunting party of Riders to get him back. That’s why she’s doing this, he thought. She would have left him there.
“We didn’t come up with this night one,” she said. “A lot of people were killed, more from chasing after those who had been taken, than had actually been taken. When a rabbit is caught, the rest don’t come out of hiding to face the pack of wolves. We’re the prey now. Sometimes we need to act like it.”
“If the choice is to hide or die beside my son, I’ll die with my son.”
Again, she looked wounded, and it took him a moment to figure out why. Anne... He hadn’t really started thinking of her as his daughter. He barely knew her. But if she really was his flesh and blood, should he die beside his son, or survive to protect the daughter he just met?
I couldn’t do it, he thought. I couldn’t abandon Jakob. No matter what.
No one was more important to him. He suspected Ella felt the same for Anne, which was why this little object lesson was skewed. “You’d lay still while Anne was taken?”
“She’d never be found,” Ella said.
“That’s a dangerous opinion,” Peter countered. “But the question is still valid. Would you let a Stalker make away with Anne while you hid beneath a tarp?”
“It’s not the same,” Ella said.
Peter climbed to his feet. “It’s exactly the same.”
Ella stepped back, the soybean plant crunching beneath her foot. She crossed her arms. “I’m not going to talk about this now.” She started moving away, retreating into the shadows.
Peter followed her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. “You don’t have a choice.”
Ella glanced down at his hand clutching her arm. “Really?”
He didn’t remove his hand. “Tell me, Ella. Explain to me how your daughter is more important than my son.”
Ella stood rigid, her normally full lips pinched together in a tight white line.
“We’ve been a lot of things to each other over the years,” he said, “but we’ve never lied to each other.”
Still nothing.
His grip tightened. Her eyes darted back down to her arm.
“You made me think my son was dead,” he said, giving voice to the energy that was being expressed through his vice grip. He loosened his grip. “Tell me, or we’re done.”
“What do you mean, ‘done?’” she asked.
“We’ll go our separate ways,” he said. “I can either trust you implicitly with the life of my son, or...I can’t. In which case, you’re on your own.”
“You would leave us?”
“It’s your choice.”
She stared at him, her eyes wavering between doubt and resolve. Finally, her shoulders sagged. “Fine. But you’re not going to like it.”
He let go of her arm. “Didn’t think I would.”
Head lowered toward the bed of tightly packed soy plants, Ella said, “She’s the best of us both.”
“Anne,” he said.
She nodded.
“
You can’t possibly expect me to favor one child over the other simply because Jakob was born from Kristin and not you. I knew you didn’t like her. God knows, she hated you. But what you’re suggesting, some kind of eugenics parental preference—”
“What?” Ella objected. “I’m not saying anything like that. Peter, you know me.”
“I’m not sure how well this time,” Peter said. They’d spent large portions of their life apart, but every time they came together, the relationship seemed to zipper right back together. He’d thought that was how things were playing out once again, but now he wasn’t so sure. The world had changed, and Ella with it, neither for the better.
A deep sadness filled Ella’s eyes, and for a moment, he saw Ella the way he remembered her on the day he had told her he was staying with Kristin.
And then, she was gone.
Long black fingers tipped with rounded, black talons slipped out of the darkness behind Ella, snapped closed around her waist and then yanked her back. The motion was fluid and unnatural, snatching Ella away in a blink. As she slipped back into the darkness, she managed to say, “Let me go, Pete,” before falling silent.
Like a clubbed animal, Peter went rigid, stunned dumb.
It was Jakob who snapped him out of his surprise. “Dad!”
Peter looked back to find his shotgun in the air, tossed by Jakob. He caught the weapon, shouted, “Stay here! Hide!” and then charged into the woods after Ella, hoping that the exchange they’d just had wouldn’t be their last. The way he’d left things with his wife was burden enough. He didn’t think he could handle losing Ella this way. Not after the things he’d said. The way he’d treated her. Like she wasn’t her. Wasn’t Ella. His Ella. If she was different now, it was because she’d been hurt—was being hurt—and that was unacceptable.
She might be different.
She might be wrong.
But she was still...what?
Her. With a capital H.
The girl who helped form the boy into a man.
And he wasn’t going to let her go, whether or not she was wrong. Not without a fight.
Hunger (The Hunger Series Book 1) Page 18