by Sara Grant
‘You can’t. You can’t stay and I can’t leave.’ He can’t keep risking everything for secret conversation and kisses. And it can never be more than that.
She kisses him again. It feels as if they’ve been doing this forever, as if her lips were always meant to meet his. He’s never felt a force so strong. He’s got to go. But his body is alive with the feel of her.
Beckett somehow finds the strength to walk away, but he looks back. She is standing there, mesmerized by his kiss. ‘You can never come back to the Mountain,’ he tells her. He hates to walk away, but it’s the only way to keep her safe.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Sometimes we are our biggest obstacle.’
– Just Saying 200
HARPER
Tears stream down Harper’s face but she doesn’t wipe them away. The sensation surprises her. She hasn’t cried since Beckett first found her wandering on the Mountain.
He’s racing up the Mountain away from her, away from that girl. Harper is hidden behind one of the burial mounds.
‘He kissed her,’ she says to herself, but it can’t be real. That girl haunts her dreams. These flashes from Harper’s past have become more violent and disturbing. The girl in her dreams has been replaced by the image of this girl. The memory is still cloudy but the meaning is clear. It’s a warning to stay away from her.
‘He kissed her,’ Harper says again and feels pain tighten in her gut. He’s been sneaking around behind her back and keeping secrets.
‘He kissed her.’ She saw the way he lunged for the girl and swept her in his arms. Their bodies pressed together, writhing like snakes. ‘He kissed her.’ She lets the pain bruise and harden. With one kiss, that girl has stolen everything from Harper. Beckett is her friend, her family, her love, her whole life. But he has been keeping secrets from her, and now he has this passion for someone else.
She wasn’t looking for him. She was looking for Atti. Harper hasn’t seen her since her ceremony and the lights last night. One of the Cheerleaders says he might have seen her go to the Necessary early this morning, but he’s not sure. Atti loves a game of hide-and-seek. They’ve played it since she was a little rockstar. But Harper’s checked all her hiding spots. Atti is never any good at the game. She usually springs out of her hiding place to surprise Harper. Harper’s been searching all morning.
Harper must keep looking. She wipes her face and sniffs back her sadness at Beckett’s betrayal. She’s tracked Atti to the base of the Mountain. She thought she might be hiding among the burial mounds. She likes to visit her dad’s grave and tell Harper stories about him, even though he died a few months before she was born. Atti tells the stories her mum and Finch told her. She paints him as this great hunter and loving father, but Harper knew Dill and he wasn’t. He was the same as everyone else on the Mountain. He did his assigned jobs and died a slow and painful death. But Atti needs to believe he was special.
Harper glances up the Mountain. Beckett has disappeared. Harper climbs the mound of rocks without dislodging a single one. She tries not to think about the bones that are rotting below her. She presses herself flat and looks to the spot where she saw Beckett kiss the girl. The girl is still standing there. She hasn’t spotted Harper because she’s staring up the Mountain. The girl touches her lips – the lips that kissed Beckett – and something inside Harper snaps.
Harper screams as she leaps off the pile and sprints towards the girl. Harper doesn’t know what she’ll do when she reaches her. When the girl sees Harper, she bolts. Harper hesitates before she heads across the desert. Harper hasn’t been off the Mountain since Beckett saved her. She’s always been too scared, but now she doesn’t care. Let the Terrorists come.
When she reaches the first row of buildings, the girl’s pace slows. She glances back. Harper’s close enough to see the fear in her eyes. The girl dodges behind one of the endless rows of houses. When Harper makes the same turning, the girl’s gone. Harper skids to a stop and looks down the empty spaces between the buildings. She walks to the corner of the next house and checks left and then right. The girl has disappeared. Harper screams, a sound more like a roar. It erupts out of her and she can’t contain it. Hot tears spill from her eyes.
Harper falls against the side of a house and collapses to the ground, sobbing. She will find the girl. She just needs to calm down and listen. In the hunt, the ears are as important as the eyes.
Harper takes a deep breath and then another. She closes her eyes and erases the image of Beckett kissing that girl. She focuses on the blackness behind her eyes. She listens for the girl and the approach of Terrorists. Finch has recounted how their scaly bodies rustle like dried leaves, and how they growl and hiss. Harper’s body is contracted and ready for battle.
She hears voices. Male voices. Her eyes spring open.
‘What was that?’
‘I think it was some sort of animal.’
‘I think we should go.’
‘What if it’s waiting for us?’
It’s difficult to determine where the voices are coming from. She crawls to the front of the house and looks around. All the doors stand open. The windows have jagged teeth of glass. Cheerleaders might have searched these, or they may have been gutted from the Time Before.
‘Are you sure Greta came this way?’ one voice says.
There’s mumbling and then another voice. ‘Let’s just go back. There’s nothing good here.’
‘But what was that noise?’ There are at least three separate voices and they aren’t far away.
Up ahead there are the burnt-out remains of the machines that took people from place to place. Harper stays low and slips inside one of them, hoping to get a better look at the source of the voices. She rubs her hands in the charred remains and wipes the ash on her face and in her hair. She colours herself in black camouflage, still listening and watching.
She hears a bang to her left. She rises so only her eyes peek out of the blackened frame. Four boys are pounding down the front steps of a house. They are knocking into one another and laughing. Their bodies appear to be perfectly formed like the girl’s, like Harper’s. They are also too big and bulky to be from Forreal.
The boys are heading straight for her. She sinks down and pulls herself into a tight ball. Their voices get louder.
‘Where is Greta? I thought you said she came this way, Tink.’
‘She’s gone to the mountain again, hasn’t she?’
Greta. Is that the girl’s name?
‘Da sent her to investigate the mountain, stupid.’
‘She told you what she’s doing, didn’t she?’
‘You’d better tell us.’
There’s shuffling and sounds that must be the boys hitting one another, not hard but shoving enough to make one of them stumble.
‘Stop it.’
‘Talk.’
They are so close. Harper clenches her fists to stop her hands from shaking.
‘She’s supposed to find out about the people who live on that mountain.’
‘She told us she didn’t find anything. She’s such a liar.’
Harper’s breath is coming faster and faster. The more she tries to calm herself, the harder it is to breathe.
‘Maybe we should go check it out.’
‘She said those people might be dangerous. They guard the mountain.’
They stop right beside Harper. One leans on her hiding spot and jostles her.
‘Maybe they have more food.’
‘We can’t go up there. Da and Greta would kill us.’
‘Greta is going to report back to Da and then they will decide what to do about the mountain people.’
Harper understands. Greta’s a spy. She’s using Beckett.
‘You need to grow up and think for yourself and not always follow Greta.’
Harper looks up just as one of them is shoved towards her. The brittle, burned metal breaks under his weight and he is on top of her.
He screams a high-pitched squeal
when he sees her. She springs to her feet and kicks him with all her might.
‘What the—’
But Harper doesn’t let the guy finish. Before they have time to react, she punches him square in the jaw, kicks another in the chest, and swings around and shoves another one to the ground.
The fourth one comes at Harper, but a swift kick between his legs makes him crumple to the ground. Harper raises her fists, begging one of them to make a move.
‘What is it?’ asks the one still flailing inside the metal frame.
Harper pumps her fists in the air and screams, ‘Stay away from the Mountain!’ Her voice is gravelly from the crying and running and screaming.
Harper runs, laughing at the black, lithe creature she’s become. She doesn’t look back because she knows they won’t follow her. Their fear will keep them rooted to the spot. She hopes they deliver her message to Greta and the others who want to take the Mountain.
She passes row after row of houses. This suddenly seems familiar to her, as if she’s been here before or somewhere very much like it. She knows she shouldn’t take the time but she peers in one of the windows. Harper can imagine what it must have looked like before the grit, sand and sun invaded. She closes her eyes and a memory comes flooding back. She sees a boy and two girls. They must be about the same age as she is now. The ache in her gut tells her these people were her family, maybe a brother and sisters, certainly people who loved her and took care of her. They are fighting with the girl who reminds Harper of the girl Beckett kissed. They are shouting and shoving and arguing about a can. That’s all. One blackened silver can with rust crusting at the lid. Harper knows there’s food inside. She can see the fight but she’s safe, hidden in a pile of rags. One of her sisters glances at her. Her eyes say Stay safe, stay hidden. She hears three bangs. She hadn’t noticed the weapon in the girl’s hands. Harper watches her brother and sisters fall to the floor, pools of blood spread and connect. The girl peels her brother’s fingers off the can.
Harper opens her eyes, but she can’t shake the image or crushing sense of loss. She runs as fast as she can.
As Harper approaches the Mountain, she sees several Cheerleaders dotting the Mountainside. It’s far too many for a normal patrol and then she remembers Atti. They must be looking for her.
Harper spots Finch’s unmistakable walk. She rushes towards him. When he sees Harper, he lets out a yell and tackles her. Harper can’t speak for dodging his fists.
‘F-F-Finch,’ she finally manages to stammer. What is he doing?
He stops with his fist drawn for another blow.
‘It’s me. It’s Harper.’
His eyes narrow, his face still contorted with rage.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Harper struggles beneath him, but he keeps her pinned there, studying her as if he doesn’t believe it’s her.
‘Harper?’
She doesn’t respond. She realizes what she must look like painted black.
‘I thought you were a Terrorist.’ He calls her the name that was just forming in her brain.
And he’s right. How has she not seen it before?
‘Why are you covered in ash?’ He relaxes and lies beside her.
She’s turned herself black, inside and out. She became a beastie the moment she lashed out at Greta and those boys.
‘Harper, what’s the matter?’ He rolls on his elbow and stares at her. Maybe he’s seeing her for the first time, maybe he understands now too.
All her visions make sense. A girl like Greta killed her family. The girl was a person, no different from a Cheerleader.
There are no Terrorists Out There – not the kind Finch describes with scales and claws and fangs. Terrorists are not the beasties they’ve been led to believe. Terrorists are better disguised and more deadly. Harper realizes she is a Terrorist. She hates and destroys. Greta and her people, they are Terrorists too. What Forreal has feared all along is a myth to protect them from the knowledge that people just like them – not beasties – did this to each other.
‘Finch.’ Harper rolls over to face him. She knows how to keep Greta off the Mountain and Beckett safe. She must lie, and once again turn people into beasties. ‘I’ve seen Terrorists.’
Chapter Fifteen
I’d read scary stories where people said crupid stuff such as (1) ‘That’s when I realized I was holding my breath’. Really? I’d never bought that anyone could forget to breathe. How many times do you think about breathing? Um, never. And (2) ‘I heard screaming and then realized it was me’. Yeah, right. When I scream, I know for damn sure it’s me.
But when the hot guy shot the gun, I did both – just not in that order.
There was one long, blood-curdling outburst that made Jamie Lee Curtis’s screams in the original Halloween and H2O sound more like my grandma’s disapproving mews when her tea gets cold. I heard the sound and realized I was screaming.
My eyelids snapped open as wet, red bits rained down on me. This all happened in nano-seconds. The guy’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, with the gun still extended in front of him, but he hadn’t been looking at me. He was focused on something behind me.
I sprang to my feet, whipped around and saw what the guy had shot. That’s when I did that thing where I realized I wasn’t breathing. I took a ginormous gulp of air and then I screamed again and again and again and again. I couldn’t stop. I wiped the red flecks from my arms, still screaming. These bloody chunks were all over me. They dotted my clothes and were lodged in my dreads. I flipped the baseball cap off and shook my head like some Rastafarian on crack. I had to get every piece off me.
The guy tucked the gun in the back of his jeans and came over and flicked away the pieces I couldn’t reach. His fingernails were rough and scratched my bare skin.
‘You’re OK,’ he said between my screams, which were dying down to a whimper. He circled his arms around me in an air hug and then slowly lowered them. I fell into him, sobbing uncontrollably. His body was rock solid and his grip like steel.
Until I’d seen the bloody bits and mentally reassembled them, I’d forgotten that Nevada had snakes. Rattlesnakes.
I’d shut the TV off if an image of a snake flashed on the screen. I never saw Snakes on a Plane because even the title had given me nightmares. Snakes in a confined space, slithering under seats and dangling like oxygen masks from overhead compartments. Uh, no, but thanks for asking.
I wrapped my arms around this stranger and slobbered and snotted into the crook of his neck. A moment ago he was a serial killer who was going to blow my brains out. Now he was my hero and I didn’t plan to let go of him – ever. I wanted to climb his frame and have him carry me on his hip like a mother holding a toddler. I didn’t want my feet to touch a ground that could be covered with snakes. I now knew what it meant to have your skin crawl. I felt as if I were covered in snake bits and the clan of the dead snake was collecting its posse to come after me. I imagined the scaly bodies skimming along the mountain, collecting snake comrades as they raced to finish the job their rattler friend had started. How much more was I supposed to take?
‘Icie! Icie!’
Marissa burst through the pines with Tate behind her. Seeing Marissa and Tate, I was reminded and overwhelmed again with the unknown end-of-the-world scenario I was living. As horrible as snakes were, they were only slimy little creatures which this guy had proved could be defeated with a gun.
‘Ice, are you OK? What’s wrong?’ Marissa yelled. I couldn’t answer. She jerked me free of my tall, dark, handsome rescuer. I couldn’t stop crying.
Then she did it. She did that thing that I’ve always wanted to do. She did that thing that you think is the most terrible, yet appropriate, thing to do to a hysterical person.
She slapped me. Open palm. Square on the cheek.
Horror flick cliché or not – it worked. The shock and burn of her hand switched off my tears like an abrupt cut in a movie.
‘Ice . . . are . . . you . . . O . . . K?’ she ask
ed.
I nodded and struggled to catch my breath. I was being baked by the sun and fried inside by fear.
‘Who are you?’ Marissa wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder and turned her attention to my mystery man. She scanned his body from head to toe.
‘I’m Chaske,’ he said, and then, as if he knew my brain hadn’t processed this new name, he repeated it slowly so I could take it in, pronouncing it chas-kay.
Marissa didn’t move. She must have noticed that I was covered in blood spatter, or maybe she spotted the mangled snake leftovers. ‘What did you do?’ Marissa’s tone was cold and threatening.
Chaske surveyed his kill. As he did, Marissa and I both spotted the butt of his gun tucked in the back of his jeans.
‘Listen,’ Marissa barked, her muscles flexing as she swept me behind her. ‘Leave us alone.’
‘It’s OK, Marissa,’ I said, finally able to speak. ‘He saved me.’
Marissa turned to face only me. ‘He’s got a gun,’ she whispered, as if that explained everything I needed to know.
‘If he wanted to shoot us, we’d be dead already,’ I said, regaining my normal voice.
‘Did you kill this?’ Tate nudged the snake bits with the toe of – I kid you not – his tasselled loafers.
Chaske shrugged.
I noticed a red blob on my yellow smiley face, which made it look as if smiley had been shot right between the eyes. I stripped off my shirt and wadded it into a ball. I’d forgotten about the key around my neck. I wrapped my fist around it. I didn’t want them to see it.
I twisted the chain so the fob hung down my back and the silver chain strained at my neck like a choker fit for a dominatrix. I was normally self-conscious about my body, but after everything I’d been through, I didn’t care that Chaske, Tate and probably even Marissa were staring at my electric-purple bra and the money belt cinched to my waist. I wasn’t what you’d call a girly girl, but I did like matching bra and knickers. After being called ‘granny’ all through middle school thanks to my white cotton panties in seventh-grade gym, I knew the power of Victoria’s Secret.