“It’s late. We’d better take turns being on guard. I’ll stay up first,” Corin says. The rucksack’s on the ground, and he reaches for it, opens it carefully. Then he pulls out a large fleece and hands it to me. “No point in us both being sleep-deprived. We don’t know what tomorrow will hold.”
It’s dark when Corin wakes me some hours later. He’s got a burning torch now, and he holds it over my face. It takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light in front of me. The flames look too bright. Like they don’t belong here.
Corin hands me the torch. I take it. A thick branch, with some sort of flaming wadding attached to it. I frown. I want to ask him where he got it from, how he made it, but then I stop. Of course, there are acacia trees around us—too many. And he has his lighter. It can’t be difficult to make a torch.
I look up at the sky. Still dark, no signs of it lifting. It’s probably the very early hours.
There’s a loud snap. Like a twig. A twig underfoot.
Corin and I bolt up, turn to the left. I reach for the penknife—I’d put it in my belt before I went to sleep—and Corin’s by my side, the gun ready.
“What’s that?” My eyes narrow into the darkness, and I shift my weight a little.
I turn my head, taking in the full area. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and then I’m looking for big cats. Lions? They could live here.
Corin raises his free hand in the silence! gesture. He stares straight ahead, his gaze dark, penetrating. I inhale some of the smoke from the burning branch, feel my throat tickling, try not to cough.
I see them before he does.
It’s the mirrors that give them away, the mirrors that steal and reflect the orange flames. Six—no eight—glints. My mouth slackens, and I feel something strange inside me. A twisting sensation.
And they’re the people you wanted to be with.
I swallow hard. That was before. Not now.
Definitely not now.
I lift the knife up higher, toward them, pointing at them. I don’t know whether Corin’s seen them or not, but something stops me from saying the words. And that’s stupid. I don’t know why. I should be yelling at them, warning Corin. And Esther.
Oh Gods.
Esther.
Eight mirror eyes, so there are four of them. My heart pounds heavier. My mind whirls. Three of us, and Esther’s injured, unconscious. And—
Corin yells suddenly, and then he’s spinning around. I hear a gun go off—his gun?—as I stumble. The burning torch jerks out; it’s in control, not me.
The four Enhanced men step through the trees. The trees that are suddenly so much thicker, bigger.
For a moment I can’t think what to do. I just stand there, staring. The flames illuminate their faces, make their mirror eyes look orange and red and yellow.
“Take the gun!” Corin yells as he thrusts it into my face.
I do, but I drop the penknife, and then I’m scrabbling about among some white flowers—tiny dark gold centers, each with thirteen petals—trying to find it in all the dust as the burning torchlight chases me around. My eyes smart from the dust—dust that shouldn’t be here, because it’s wet—and I know I’m taking too long. My back is to the Enhanced, I’m leaving myself vulnerable to them. My father would be furious.
My head jerks up. They’re lunging closer, mirror eyes flashing. Oh Gods. They’re going to be on me in seconds.
There. Got it. I grab the penknife, then—
An Enhanced man smacks into me as I try to stand. I scream as I fall, dropping the torch, and fire a bullet into his abdomen just as I stab the back of his hand with the blade. He lets out a guttural cry, then blood splatters over my bare arms. I roll over, quick, heart pounding, see Corin scooping Esther up. He turns back to me, but I can’t see him properly in the dark. Can only see the Enhanced because their eyes are reflecting what little light there is back at me in sharp stings, like bullets. One. Two. Three. Four—
Lesson one: You can never outrun the Enhanced Ones. They are better, faster, and stronger than you.
“Run!” Corin shouts.
I test my weight slowly on my feet, turning again, wiping the blood from the penknife’s blade on my shorts.
One Enhanced is on the ground. The other three? There. Two are by the other trees, farther behind, and one—
I squeeze the trigger just as the fourth Enhanced man lines his shot up with Corin. But my bullet’s wide. Far too wide. Worst shot I’ve had in a long time.
But the next one isn’t.
“Run!” Corin’s still shouting. He’s pushing through branches now, suddenly farther away than I thought. He’s disappearing, with Esther.
“Surrender yourselves, poor creatures,” one of the men says.
Rahn’s third survival lesson flashes into my mind. They deserve to die. Each and every one of them.
I turn on the Enhanced man, gun ready. Two cartridges gone, four left. I squeeze the trigger, and—
Nothing happens.
I try the gun again. I curse. It’s empty. How? It shouldn’t be. There should be four cartridges left.
I throw it down. The penknife, it’s all I’ve got.
They’re getting nearer, their lips twisting into strange smiles as their hands reach toward me. Can’t see their guns now.
A streak of lightning flashes across the sky. The movement burns through me, and I turn. Sweat drips from my hands. I’m starting to lose grip on the penknife.
“Sev, run!” Corin’s voice is strained. It wraps around me, and I turn, and—
There are more of them. More Enhanced Ones. More than four. They’re racing toward Corin and Esther.
“Run!”
I run.
Flames suddenly snake along next to me, keeping up as they burn through the ground. Heat smothers my legs. My khaki shorts are too hot.
The Enhanced are right behind me. I can hear them—pounding footsteps, heavy breathing.
I gulp in too much air—too much sooty black air. It clogs my lungs, weighs me down. Makes my arms shake. And the knife—the penknife’s gone.
“Which way do we go?” Corin’s voice is distant. I twist my head, trying to see him and Esther… Trying to see….
He’s not here.
“Corin!” I scream.
I turn my head, quick. Behind, the flames are high, pulling up into the sky, trying to ignite the stars. The whole forest is on fire now. Smoke spreads along the ground, engulfing shrubs and trunks. Many leucaenas, going up in smoke. A bitter taste fills my mouth as I recognize the burning white flower balls of a leucaena species my father liked—white leadtrees, that’s what he called them. And the acacias—no, there are no acacias here now.
A bitter taste fills my mouth. My head jerks up to the sky. Darkness. Inky, black darkness in a ring of fire. Inky, black darkness that hides a shape.
The bison.
The sign of the Dream Land.
This isn’t real.
Not yet.
My father’s words burn through me. Whenever the bison speaks to you, you pay attention. You’ve been chosen as a Seer for a reason. The future speaks to you. You must not ignore it.
I swallow hard. My shoulders curl, I look back at the bison. He’s getting stronger, standing out better from the dark sky now. His eyes are brighter, and I think of the time when he spoke to me, told me that I’m the key to the survival of one race—and that Raleigh will always be after me.
Because I’m the key. I’m the Seventh One—spirits told me that.
You’re special, you’re the seventh child of the light—so easily identifiable to us, but also to them. Be careful, Seventh One, for we’ll help you. But others will want you. Others will destroy you. For there is no mistaking that you are the one. Your parents knew…they made it easy…easy for us to know… Easy for others to know… Be careful, Seventh One. Stay Untamed, and be careful.
The ring of fire around me gets taller.
A scream cuts through the
flames.
A man’s scream.
My heart goes cold. Power floods my legs, and I charge at the wall of fire.
Run, Seven. Go east. Find them, and go east. Whatever you do, go east.
I jolt awake.
“What is it?”
Corin’s turned to me in an instant, before I can even get a bearing on my surroundings. His eyes hover over me. It’s not as dark as it was in the Seeing dream. It’s nearing morning; the first glows of the coming sun are peeking through, lightening the sky. Corin didn’t wake me up after a few hours, as planned.
“The Dream Land. Got to move now.” I sound breathless, as if I really have just been running. “The Enhanced are coming.”
I jump up, and all my joints ache. I’m stiff. Too stiff. I curse, then turn to the trees where I saw the Enhanced Ones appear. I stare at the wooded area, tension pulling through my body. Can’t see anyone there now. And the trunks are different: they’re farther apart from each other than in the Seeing dream, and maybe thicker too.
But I know how the Dream Land works. Little details aren’t right, and they’re the clues that it’s a warning.
I look back at Corin, see his pupils dilate.
“How long’ve we got?”
I roll my shoulders as I look around. I wish he wouldn’t ask me such stupid questions. He knows it could be seconds or hours. You can never tell with the Dream Land. But usually it’s closer to the first option.
“We’ve got to go now.”
Just like that, we jump into the routine that’s been ingrained in us. Corin grabs the weapons, then hands the penknife and the rucksack to me. For a second, I think I’m going to get the gun too, but then he slides the Colt into the back of his waistband. After a moment’s thought, he digs the lighter out of his pocket, holds it out for me.
“In case they get too close and you’ve lost the knife,” he says.
I pause, then take it. This is big, I know that—for Corin to give me his cigarette lighter is massive. But now isn’t the time to talk about this milestone.
“I’ll carry Esther. You lead the way—you know which way we’re going, right?”
“East.” I pocket Corin’s gift, then readjust the weight of the rucksack on my back. That’s what the bison said, the last words of the Seeing dream: Run, Seven. Go east. Find them, and go east. Whatever you do, go east.
“East. Right.” Corin turns and looks toward the lightest part of the horizon, where the sun will appear, chasing the first rays that are already here.
I follow his gaze. I’d guess it’s about four in the morning. So Corin has let me sleep for a long time.
Corin pulls Esther up into a fireman’s lift, leaving her injured arm hanging down his back. Even in the darkness, I see the strain on his face.
“You keep a lookout,” Corin says as we start to walk, but he doesn’t need to say that. I already am.
We tread over the wooded floor, small twigs breaking. The ground’s not as damp now that the water’s seeped into cracks. Mosquitoes are out though, and other flies buzz and whine. I bat several away, keeping my eyes on the trees around us. I hold the knife at the ready, searching for any movement. Several times, I mistake small branches swaying in the wind for the Enhanced, and adrenaline surges through me.
A bird screeches overhead, and I jump. Corin curses. I look back. He’s starting to fall behind. Esther’s not stirring at all. I swallow uncomfortably.
Something cracks to the right. I freeze. Corin takes another step behind me—I hear the sound of his feet on dried leaves—then stops. I raise my hand—the one with the penknife—and the hairs on the back of my neck feel slick with sweat. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts.
I peer into the darkness. Trees. Branches. Leaves. I pick out cobwebs, slightly illuminated by the little light edging the darkness.
Can’t see anything else. I take a baby step forward, then another. Still looking, eyes going for the shadows, the dark spaces. My shoes are ridiculously noisy against the woodland floor as I move. Just another step so I can peer around a trunk.
“Is there anything there?” Corin’s voice is low, barely audible.
I scan the trees again. Up and down. Side to side, eyes flitting from one branch formation to another. Corin’s lighter presses into my thigh, feels solid. I look at the knife. A lone droplet of water glistens from it, like an eye, watching me.
“Don’t think so.”
Corin trudges forward. “Then let’s keep going.” He sounds annoyed. Or tired. Probably tired.
We keep going. The trees get thicker. My breathing gets shallower, I can’t help it. My head starts to feel foggy, like I’m not getting enough oxygen.
We step over wide cracks in the ground, Corin struggling a little more than me. It’s getting lighter now. I can clearly pick out the tree line against the sky a lot easier than before. I don’t know whether that’s reassuring or not.
Still, the sky gets brighter, lightening until the night has departed. I feel more confident in daylight. We both do. It’s only natural. Can see farther.
“You sure it was a Seeing dream?” Corin asks sometime later. “There are no Enhanced about.”
“Definitely a Seeing dream.” I look around again, as if expecting hundreds of Enhanced Ones to suddenly jump out. But they don’t. “We need to keep going. East. That’s what the bison said. We should be glad we’ve been given a lot of warning. Could be worse.”
Corin grunts, mutters something that’s just out of my earshot.
We keep going east, and the strange savannah land with its copses transforms into thicker forest as more tree species pop up. The transition is too abrupt to be natural, I’m sure. It should take days to walk from one to another, not a matter of hours. Still the work of the spirits?
I press my lips together so tightly I can feel my pulse in them. After about another half an hour, the unease within me has grown. It was the Dream Land, wasn’t it? I look down at the penknife. My fingers slackened around it long ago. I grimace. This is strange. In all the times when I’ve had Seeing dreams before, I’m sure there wasn’t this much of a gap between the warning and the action. If I saw the Enhanced in the Dream Land, then I’d see the Enhanced pretty soon in reality.
I frown. Maybe we got away in time, missed them completely. Maybe they’re back at our clearing now. And I know I should be pleased, but I can’t help the way my knees feel weak, achy, or how my head pounds with the heavy air, as if something’s going to happen.
Still, twenty minutes later, we’ve seen no Enhanced Ones. Not even any signs of them. Every few seconds, I scan the horizon for the lights of a far-away city or town, but it’s hard to see past the looming trees, the many leucaenas all around me. The flowers of the white leadtree look smaller in real life, but the blooms are the same, and my eyes are drawn to them.
I freeze.
“They were in the Seeing dream.” I point at the leucaena flowers. My arm is stiff, and my shoulder blade protests a little, makes the rucksack feel heavier. But there’s not much in there, just some extra clothes and the acacia leaves and shoots.
“Coincidence?” Corin says. “Look, Sev, what if your vision was wrong? I don’t like going east. We’re just getting thicker into the woods. More cover, yes, but more places you can get ambushed. And more predators—snakes. I don’t think we should go in deeper.”
I pick my way over a fallen trunk that’s half-rotted. Looks like termites have made their home in it. “But the bison said to go east. We have to go east.”
We’d be stupid not to.
“Need to stop,” Corin mutters sometime later.
I turn back to see him setting Esther on the ground. We haven’t made that much progress since we last spoke; Corin was getting slower by the second. Esther’s body flops forward. Her skin isn’t a good color. Gray. Makes my stomach roll.
Corin looks at me as I near them. “Maybe you got it wrong. Or a false warning.”
I frown. Seers don’t just get their vision
s wrong. Corin should know that.
But then again, why should he? His mother wasn’t a Seer. My mother was—no, she is. She’s not dead. Just converted. Thinking about her—her current state—makes my legs feel heavier. Still, I don’t sit. I look down at Corin. He’s leaning against a thick leucaena trunk, his eyes half-shut. Looks worn out. Huge bags hang under his eyes. I study the rest of his face, note the heaviness of the sunburnt patches around his lips, the hard lines of his features, and how his scars seem more prominent. I feel a slight pull in my chest as I stare at him. A pull that I don’t quite understand.
I turn away quickly, feel heat rush to my face.
Keeping a lookout—that’s what I should be doing. My feet start to twitch as I turn. I scan, round and round, glance at Corin. His eyes are properly shut now. Alarm suddenly fills me. He can’t sleep now! What if the Enhanced come along?
I shift my weight from foot to foot. But I can’t wake him. He’s knackered—exhausted. He let me sleep all through the night—well, until I woke. I owe it to him.
My throat feels strange as I swallow. Uncomfortable. I bat several mosquitoes away from my face, my ears, then give up. There are too many. And I can’t use my energy up. I know that. I’ve been warned; something’s going to happen, despite what Corin says. So I’ve got to stay alert and ready. Have to.
Still, nothing does happen. Other than some birds calling to their mates, and a swarm of insects flying past. Corin’s still got his eyes shut, but I don’t think he’s asleep. That’s something, I suppose.
After a few minutes, I check Esther. My fingers shake as I lightly trace her wrist, then her neck for a pulse. In the end, I manage to pick up a faint beat.
“Look.” Corin’s voice makes me jump, and I turn to see him pointing to the far left. My heart races. “Dima. That’s the flower my mother was named after. Dimorphotheca Pluvialis.”
I look. My lungs fill with cold, stagnant air, and I nearly choke; the flowers, they’re the same, the same as the ones that were on the ground when I dropped the penknife in the dust in the Seeing dream. Thirteen white petals on each head, with a dark gold center.
Fragmented Page 4