by White, Gwynn
Sara dropped her hands and shook them out at her sides, focusing on the bridge. She stepped up to the edge, took a breath, then crossed quickly, taking long strides. She made it across without any haunting creaks.
Emmit grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the ledge.
Sprinkles leaned on a front paw, testing the bridge. One of the beams broke and he jumped back, spinning around as he landed free of the bridge.
"Oh no," Emmit said. "Is he too heavy?"
"Might be," Sara said.
Sprinkles backed away from the bridge.
Emmit wondered if his friend was giving up.
Then the wolverine broke into a low sprint. A few strides over the bridge, something creaked. Sprinkles leapt. Emmit watched in awe, then realized Sprinkles wasn't going to clear it. Oh no. "Grab the bridge!"
They grabbed the end of the bridge and yanked backwards, away from the cliff edge. A warm thermal spat dust into his eyes, forcing him to squint and lose track of Sprinkles's trajectory.
The wolverine landed on one of the horizontal sticks as it came down. The impact jerked Emmit's shoulder almost out of its socket, but he and Sara held on grimly. Sprinkles leapt again, the wood snapping as he did so, and landed on the ledge beside Emmit, safe.
Emmit's fingers ached, and he let go of his hold the bridge. It was only when Sara gasped as she let go that he realized his mistake. The bridge folded and slipped off the ledge, disappearing over the edge so quickly it was as if it had never been.
"Oh no." Emmit looked up at Sara. Dad, I—we—dropped the bridge. Is this the only way?
"I'll let them know. Cullen's resourceful."
Sprinkles led them toward the low space beneath the rock.
Emmit jogged over and ducked under, passing through to the other side. Sara shuffled under the rock behind him.
On the other side was a clear area of flat rock. To the right, it became dirt and jungle, while to the left was a high, sheer cliff face.
The familiar chirp of his blue bird sounded from a branch over an opening they could use to reenter the jungle.
The bird took wing and swooped into the forest. Sprinkles galloped after, and Emmit and Sara ran after the pair.
The terrain was flat, and the tall frames of trees, combined with less undergrowth, made this section seem adolescent compared to the prior jungle.
Emmit wondered how much his dad could be trusted to ensure that his mother didn't die, and he considered stopping to go back and wait. As he glanced back, considering a retreat, Sara took his hand and pulled him forward.
"Come on. They'll be fine."
Her words calmed him in the hope that she was right. They had a mission, and his mom and Cullen were both capable adults. If he could make it this far, they could too.
They ran on long enough for Emmit's leg muscles to tighten and his body to demand a respite. He finally gave in to the cramp in his side and slowed to rest against a thin tree. Arm up on the trunk, he wiped his sweaty forehead, breathing deeply.
Sara held her side where the mara's bolt had hit her.
"Are you okay?" Emmit asked.
She grunted, and moved her jacket to look at the bandage they'd put on. A stain of red and brown blood filled the center of the bandage. "It needs stitches, but will be fine for now."
Sweat beaded off her jaw and dampened her hair, but otherwise, she looked ready to go again. She spat, and wiped her face on her sleeve. "How 'bout you?"
He straightened up, rubbing at the cramp.
"Drink some water." She handed him her pouch, the cap already off.
He didn't want to take his pack off—well, he did, the weight was torture on his shoulders, but the relief of taking it off would only make putting it back on much worse. He accepted her drink.
"We'll be there soon. I'll get a refill then." She forced a smile.
For a second, Emmit hated her. Didn't she remember seeing Adi's dead body? How she'd nearly been killed by a mara? "How can you smile?" He handed back the pouch, and was glad when she took it quickly.
She examined him for a second before she took swig, then capped it. As she twisted it shut, she said, "I'm sorry about Adi. There's no way to make his loss less significant. But we're so close to achieving what many of us have dreamed about our whole lives. I've never been closer to avenging my brother and what his drafting did to my parents."
He didn't need telepathy to see her sorrow. "Right. Do you think he could still be alive?"
She looked away. "If he is, I don't know that it would matter. He wouldn't be the brother I knew."
"I see. Well, I look forward to avenging him too." Emmit searched the jungle for the blue bird, and found it ten meters ahead, perched on the nose of a black stone that looked like Sprinkles, who had his head down, sniffing his feet.
What started as a small sense of irony at seeing a statue similar in size and shape to his wolverine, became eclipsed by the second portion of the statue he didn't see until he was a few steps away. Someone sat straddled on top, but hidden by branches from a nearby tree. The feet were not those of a grown man. A chill sent shivers down his arms as he saw himself encased in eroded black stone even before his hand could move the branch. His hand numbed, and the branch fell back. The branch did not hide the boy's blank eyes, which stared right down into his. The effect created a disorientation strong enough to make him reach back for help.
Sara caught him before he fell.
"Wh..." he started, but couldn't find the breath to finish.
"That's weird," Sara said, as if it were only just a little.
No big deal, Emmit thought, on the verge of hysterical laughter. "Either you've seen other statues here of people you know, or weird doesn't even begin to describe that."
"No hon, that would be a first."
The statue even had a replica of Dy poking his head out of the boy's pocket. Emmit unzipped his pocket and pulled Dy out to see. "Look at that, Dy. You're famous." To whom, he didn't know. Dy licked an eye and scanned the jungle as if he'd seen a statue of himself before. No big deal.
Branches swished gently behind them. Emmit turned to see a slightly older version of his father, more real than the man he'd seen in the net. His brown hair was dusted gray over the ears, and his eyes were puffy, with dark bags under them. His tanned face and sharp cheek bones looked skinnier—worn. Exhausted. His father frowned, and he lifted his hands. "Son," he coughed out, as tears leaked from his red-veined eyes.
Emmit collapsed, and he would have fallen had Sara not held him up.
His father closed the distance, wrapped his arms around his long-lost son, and lifted him into his embrace—the grasp of a man who wanted nothing more.
Emmit remembered giggling, a rocking to his voice as he said, "This is sooo funnnnn." He watched himself as a two- or three-year-old, turning the wheel on his old green car as his father pushed him down a slight hill in their woods, over ridges built by tree roots, toward their secret hideout. "It's sooo bumpyyy."
The dream continued as he remembered wanting to see if his frogs were there, and to eat a mango sitting on the tree stump that sat as high as his father's shoulders.
Why are we remembering this?
In the memory, his dad hefted Emmit out of his car to set him on the trunk. Emmit saw both his dad, as he smiled and retrieved the mango from his pocket, and then himself as his father handed the fruit to his son's tiny, but impossibly precious hands. He noticed his dirty cheeks and kid teeth as he bit into the mango. Emmit felt the love his father had for him in that moment, and he remembered his love for his father. That bond was unbreakable and rooted in his core.
If anyone tried to break it, he would break them.
"Boys!" his mom cried out, her voice echoing across the distance between the house and their hideout. Her voice had been so much happier back then.
Boys... Emmit followed that voice back to the present. Mom! he called out, thinking of the same voice he had at that age, when his plea requested the comfort of everything
a mother could be.
"Emmit."
It worked.
Emmit didn't know if that was him or his father, but it was probably his own thought.
"Where are you?" she asked.
He closed his eyes and sent a bird to show her.
31
A bush with thin red pricker branches did little to conceal Cullen and Ehli from the reject as his boot squished through mud not far from their faces. Ehli sucked in a tight breath, and gave away their position.
The reject snapped his attention down and lunged, arms outstretched into the tearing bush.
Cullen lifted his rifle and shot a beam through his chest, ending the man's fight as his body cracked through the branches.
Cullen grabbed Ehli's jacket and hefted her out of the bush and onto her feet, upset that he'd had to take yet another Rucien life. That was three, now. They left him no choice. They were out for blood, and Ehli was in no condition to coerce them.
The snake she'd named Phipps hissed and showed its fangs, curling farther up her arm. And not for the first time, Cullen feared the snake would bite him.
Ehli's gaze searched the ground.
Cullen released his grip on her jacket, grabbed her free hand and pulled her after him. He took a path between bushes. Focus, Ehli. What just happened?
The connection they'd shared was gone. Holding her hand produced nothing, and her weak grip made him suspect someone else had her attention.
He didn't have much time to think about that as a loud shriek ripped out of the jungle behind them. A log blocking their path forced him to go left into a tight space between trees. He broke through branches, rifle up to deflect them. Wood scraped over the cheek and visor of his helmet. He had to be careful of Ehli, who didn't have a suit like his.
Three more shrieks called out acknowledgment of the first. Come on.
"This way." Ehli pulled Cullen hard left up an incline.
His legs began to ache. His body needed fuel, but ever since the first reject had surprised them, adrenaline had been a handy source of motivation.
* * *
Ehli followed the blue bird as it took flight from another branch and darted into a narrow space between trees. She jerked Cullen's hand to come with. Her son was on the other side of this jungle maze. Maras and rejects could chase them, but they would fail. Nothing would stop her from reaching and saving her son. Whatever Schaefer had planned, it wouldn't end well for him if he threatened her or her son.
Cullen let go of her hand and spun to a stop.
She glanced back to see two rejects converging on their flanks.
Cullen fired at the man on the left, blasting off a chunk of bark wide of target. As he tried adjusting his aim, Cullen's rifle got stuck in a tangle of branches, and didn't give way as he yanked it back.
The other reject, a woman with thick knots of hair like bumps on her head and a dozen bleeding scratches on her face, screamed as she charged toward Ehli.
Ehli had to let go of her connection to the bird to enter the woman's mind, but ran out of time. The woman's hands punched Ehli in the shoulders, then grabbed her and growled. Phipps loosened its grip as it uncoiled and sprang at the woman's face. The woman turned. Phipps's open-mouthed attack hit the side of her head, glancing off as she let go with one hand and swatted it into the brush behind her. A bloody gash the length of a finger marked the woman's dark flesh.
Ehli swung a boot to kick the woman in the gut, but her foot caught Ehli's before she could extend. Her fist hit Ehli in the mouth. The blow spun her head as blood spat into the tree leaves.
To her right, Cullen grunted and fell under the weight of the other reject, shrieking in its attack.
A hard knee connected with Ehli's side, then two strong hands grabbed her and yanked her off her feet.
How did I do this before?
As her world spun with greens and a haze of twilight, Ehli wondered how a human could have such a burst of strength. This fight would be over in one or two breaths if she didn't figure out how to break into the woman's mind.
A branch poked Ehli hard in the back, thick and hard enough that if it didn't crack under her weight, it might spear her. Ehli dropped a shoulder, twisted, and used the woman's weight to pull her down. Her short fall ended with a wet pop as a twig impaled an eye.
The woman coughed and gasped as her body tensed.
Ehli rolled away to see her wide remaining eye, her head stuck at an angle against the log, and the dark blood spilling out on the white bark. The woman convulsed and spat, then finally held still.
Ssssst!
Phipps shot off the ground and bit the rear of the reject holding Cullen down. The reject shot up with a wail, and the hand that he sent back to free the snake caught another nasty bite. He twisted and fell off Cullen, shaking his hand. Phipps sprang from his hand to his neck, and bit down. The howl he made then almost made Ehli feel sorry for him.
Cullen kicked the reject off his legs.
Phipps's tail danced as the reject rolled side to side, hands twitching and fingers convulsing in what looked like an attempt to grab the snake. He failed, thanks to the poison coursing through his nervous system.
Ehli didn't know if Phipps had done enough damage, but within a few seconds, the reject's hands dropped to his sides and, while spasms shook his body, his fight had ended.
Phipps released his hold and left the two holes in the reject's neck to bleed freely.
Without thinking, Ehli knelt, and Phipps slithered up her hand, coiling around his preferred resting place above her elbow.
Cullen watched, and looked up at Ehli with a coy smile. "Cool pet," he said, stretching his mouth open and his jaw as though working out an injury.
"He is."
Cullen smirked. He stood and checked his rifle.
Ehli smiled, and petted the snake between its eyes. She fingered a spray of blood off him, and wiped it off on the grass. Having the snake helped her feel less vulnerable in this jungle. She searched the trees around them. "I lost the bird."
"The bird?" Cullen strained as he pressed a thumb into the collar of his suit.
"What're you doing?"
She read from his mind that he was trying to retract his helmet, fearing it broken.
"Piece of crap, Sharps," he thought, cursing the dealer who'd sold him the suit, she understood. He growled until the button released. The helmet split at his crown, whirring as the face shield lowered and the top portion separated and retracted. A third of the way down, the whir whined louder, and the retraction slowed. The smell of a burnt wire wafted over as the helmet stopped not even halfway to its destination. Cullen cursed and pounded the suit at his collar, cursing again when that did nothing. He took out his knife and angled it at his neck, at the point where he'd pressed the release button. He looked ridiculous with his face reddening, and the top of the visor shield pressing his nose up as he tried to see the knife tip.
A branch snapped somewhere not far off, and they both looked up.
Cullen sheathed his knife and gripped his rifle. "You mentioned a bird," he whispered.
Ehli telepathed memories of hearing her son, and the bird he'd sent for her.
"Gotcha. Of course."
Ehli redirected her focus from Cullen's thoughts to the source of the approaching noise, searching behind trees too thick to see beyond. Each inhale of concentration felt like breathing in fear. Whatever was walking was intelligent, and strong. If they stayed, it would be a long fight she might not survive, and they were far enough away that waiting around wasn't the smartest decision. "Let's go." She spun, pushed branch tips away from her face, and started running.
Cullen swished down the path behind her, slowing as he covered their rear.
Ehli tried maintaining her hold on the pursuing mind. She was certain it was a reject, and female, but beyond that, she couldn't breach its mental barrier. She took a step left and a bush branch stabbed her thigh. She gasped and yanked it back, rubbing at the sore muscle. As she glanced up to cha
rt the new path, she realized the reject had escaped her grip.
Cullen emerged from a tree and looked down at her thigh, concerned.
"It's fine." She started to turn, but he caught her hand and stopped her.
"Use me."
She wanted to let go to prove she didn't need help, but she couldn't deny the expansion of her awareness to the surge of life around her. From insect to bird, to the vibration of frog's gullets as they thrummed and sang louder and louder, and emerged from all around them. Like an army at her disposal, they gathered on the leaves, spread on the floor and landed on the branches hanging over her. As they assembled, she collected the various uses and defensive abilities, from poison skin to sharp beaks. The blue bird soared across her face and back around behind her.
As she left her creatures behind, she told them to spread and hunt any who followed her and Cullen.
The blue bird cut up under an orange and red branch and disappeared.
Ehli ran with the strength of knowing that those behind her were flushing out her enemies.
As she followed the bird's darting course, she noticed the female had drawn back. Assessing, and waiting for her to lead her. The bird was taking a path not known to those who followed, and Ehli was letting them take advantage with every step she took. But with each step, she sensed more rejects. She gathered more wildlife as well, but had to balance between recruiting and keeping a mental eye on the platoon that chased them.
One benefit was the birds that flew ahead of her to part branches like a curtain, showing her a clear path to the blue bird coasting ahead.
And then the stretch needed to jump over a log woke the stinging pain of her hamstring. She lost the strength needed to scale the branch jutting out from the trunk. It caught her foot, tripping her midflight, and dropped her head over feet. She twisted to avoid crushing Phipps. The impact in her shoulder sprung tears, and a reverberating pain down her spine bled into the tingling numbness in her left hand.
Cullen jumped over the log and helped her up.
She didn't want to cry, but the pain.... The connection she had on her army, and the one that no doubt smiled at her now, was gone. She looked down at her arm to see Phipps spinning off and then slithering into the brush under the trunk where he disappeared in a hole, as much a stranger as any snake should be.