by Lena August
Chapter 12
When we stop, I am gasping for breath, clutching a stitch in my side. However, I am relieved to find that the pain in my ribs has been reduced to a dull throbbing instead of the stabbing sensation I had been suffering from previously. They are healing nicely. Perhaps the next time we are attacked I will actually be of some use. I turn to look at Flynn, trying to gage his expression, but his back is towards me as he rummages in the bushes. He unearths a black bag and pulls out a shirt, tossing it to me. “It won’t be safe to wear Domus symbols after what happened,” he tells me, his voice callous.
“Where are we?” I ask carefully.
“Back on Domus land, Landon and I stashed our supplies here before coming to rescue you.” I can tell from his voice that he holds me responsible for Landon’s death. I don’t blame him.
“I never meant to run away. I was going after Kyla,” a pleading note has crept into my voice.
“Whatever,” He turns his back on me and walks away. I sink to the ground and rest my forehead on my knees. What have I done? If only I could have convinced Kyla not to go. If I had, both she and Landon would still be alive. I wipe a few stray tears from my eyes and steel my emotions, Murderers is no place to let sorrow take over. I hear the sound of running water and discover a stream nearby. I splash my face with the cool water, washing off most of the blood and dirt that had covered it.
Next, I pull on the new shirt; a plain black long sleeved one. I feel better after washing up and sit down on the river bank, letting the sound of flowing water relax me. I allow myself to sit for a few minutes before worrying about Flynn. I should really try to talk to him.
Flynn stands with his back towards me. He is holding two knives in one hand and one in the other. I watch as he sends his first knife spinning through the air, it gets a solid stick in a tree about twenty feet away. I notice that the bark on the tree is torn up; he’s been doing this for a while.
“Flynn?” I call hesitantly. He doesn’t answer, but throws the second knife, where it lands right above the first.
“I’m sorry about Landon, and I meant it when I said I never intended to run off.”
The third knife joins the others and he goes to retrieve them. I can see his anger in the way he rips the knives free of the bark. He refuses to look at me even when he assumes his previous position, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the tree. I put my hand on his shoulder and force him to turn towards me. He stiffens but does not pull away. “Flynn, I really am sorry about what happened to Landon, and I know it is my fault, you should have just left me with them.”
Flynn gives a short laugh, “Yes, I probably should have. Unfortunately I can’t change that now.” This stings a bit, hearing him agree with me, but I realize he just sacrificed his best friend for someone he barely knows.
“How long did you know Landon?” I ask.
“About five years,” he replies shortly.
“What did… I mean what happened to get him sent here?” I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but my curiosity gets the best of me.
Flynn gives me a hard look, as though debating whether or not to answer. Finally he says, “He shot his father when he was sixteen.”
“What?” I gasp, unable to stop myself.
“His father was a drunk. He came home one night completely wasted and pulled a knife on Landon’s five year old brother, so Landon shot him and got sent here.”
Suddenly I feel disgusted by the justice system. I remember reading in History class that before the Islands system was developed; one could claim he or she was acting in self-defense or in the defense of a loved one. If that was found to be true, they often escaped punishment. But now, they don’t care what your reasoning is. If you kill someone on Mainlands, they send you to the Islands. They don’t care if the guy was holding a freaking gun to your grandmother’s head; they’ll ship you off to Murderers all the same.
The fury in Flynn’s face has faded into sorrow, his brown eyes appearing almost black in the light. Now that he’s started talking, it doesn’t seem like he can stop.
“He originally joined up with the Petuo, I guess they were the first clan he met. Marek ordered a raid on a Petuo scout group that Landon was a part of. I realized he might be a good fighter so I let him live and brought him back with us. Marek was furious that I had left any survivors, but he soon recognized Landon’s worth. We’ve been friends ever since.” Flynn looks away; and I see that some of the anger has returned to his face, “I never should have let him come today. I was planning on going alone, but he insisted.” He goes quiet and I can’t bring myself to look at him, the guilt is still too strong.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “Thank you for coming to rescue me. I know how much it cost you.”
Flynn almost smiles, “I couldn’t leave you in the hands of the Volis. I know how horrible they are.”
“The Volis, so that’s the clan that kidnapped me?”
Flynn nods, “They are almost as powerful as the Domus. Their leader, Cadoc isn’t quite as brutal as Marek is, but his second in command, Kovan, almost is, was, I should say. You seemed to figure that out on your own.” He reaches out and gently touches the cut on my face from Kovan’s knife. The gesture surprises me greatly, and Flynn immediately lets his hand drop as though he surprised himself also. “We’ve just initiated a clan war though,” he says regretfully, “One of those hasn’t happened in years.”
“What do you mean?” I ask in shock, “I thought you guys were always attacking each other.”
Flynn gives a half shrug, “we can attack whoever we want so long as we don’t touch base camp, it’s an unwritten rule. One that we pretty much obliterated today. Once a clan attacks another’s base, you’ve just declared war on them. I can only remember a few wars; all of them were very destructive.
“So what happens now?” I inquire.
“We stick to the original plan. I get you to the fence and you get me out of it. With any luck we can avoid the worst of the war, let Marek and the rest of the Domus deal with it.” His voice sounds vaguely regretful and I wonder if he is thinking about the boy he left behind, his patrols partner, Heath.
“How long of a walk is it to the fence?” I ask mostly to break the silence.
He frowns, “usually it only takes a few days, but with your injury and also with the Domus and now the Volis after us, we’ll have to take more precautions. I’d say a little over a week if everything goes according to plan.”
I feel nervous about the prospect of spending another week on Murderers. I’ve only been here for six days and haven’t fared very well.
“So if it’s going to take us that long to cross the island, shouldn’t we get as much walking done today as we can?” I’m eager for something to do other than think about the past couple of hours.
Flynn shakes his head. “The land ahead of us will be patrolled by the Domus until morning. We have to be careful to avoid the patrols at all costs, even if it means we will only get a few hours of traveling in a day.” At that he turns back to face his target tree and I leave him with thoughts, returning to the river. I take off my socks and shoes and wade into the cool depths up to me knees. The water is so inviting that I strip down, leaving my clothes on the river bank, and submerge myself completely in the icy current. The water cools my aching muscles, leaving me feeling refreshed. I feel like I could stay here forever, but I know I am risking opening up my stomach cut to infection.
By some miracle my stitches have managed to stay intact during our escape so I should be safe from contamination, but I don’t want to push my luck so I wade back over to the shore and pull on my clothes. I sit down on the grassy bank and allow my feet to dangle in the water. I close my eyes and imagine that I am back at Innocents, sneaking down to the coast with Sera and Livi. I am so absorbed in my thoughts that I don’t notice Flynn until he sits down next to me.
I sneak a sidelong glance at him and can’t help but notice how striking he is, his hair is short
er than anyone’s I’ve seen on Murderers, and his cheekbones high. His eyes, which looked black just a little while ago, now appear golden. I remember what I had thought when he first appeared in my cell at the Volis base camp and quickly look away, embarrassed. Flynn doesn’t seem to have noticed, he’s too busy filling up his water bottle in the river. The bottle immediately invokes my curiosity. It’s green and made out of a high quality stainless steel, not the standard issue we got at Innocents, and certainly not something they would hand out to Murderers.
“Where did that water bottle come from?” I question curiously.
To my surprise, Flynn grins at me. “The guards at Murderers aren’t entirely incorruptible, you know.”
“The guards gave you that?” I give a little laugh, remembering how the guard back at the guards island had eluded to bribery.
“Sure,” Flynn replies, “They are always after information about the clans, especially Marek, and I have a wealth of that. Usually it’s good for some food or basic supplies, but sometimes I can get a knife or two out of it.”
This surprises me. Although I have no trouble believing that the Murderers guards would take bribes, it is somewhat troubling that they are willing to arm the inhabitants, especially one with as notorious of a reputation as Flynn’s. We sit by the river until it grows dark and Flynn tells me we should find cover for the night.
Flynn’s idea of “cover” is a patch of thick bushes that form a sort of canopy over our heads. Although I use Landon’s backpack as a pillow, the ground is still cold and uncomfortable. I lay awake for half the night shivering in my thin shirt. Flynn seems to have no problem falling asleep. He lays a few yards away, completely oblivious to the cold. Perhaps it’s one of the things you get used to when you live in an as unforgiving of a place as Murderers.
When dawn finally comes, I am stiff and miserable. My muscles protest when I stand up and my fingers are numb from the cold. I rub my hands together and work some life back into my frozen toes. Flynn is already up and seems amused by my pain. He tosses me a bag of dried fruit, which, in my sleep befuddled state, I fail to catch. That makes Flynn laugh and I feel blood rushes to my face. I was never much of a morning person to begin with, but after spending the night out in the open, I am a wreck. I retrieve the dried fruit and begin to eat as Flynn fills me in with the day’s plans. Apparently we will have an hour’s walk until we reach the point where we will cross into Volis territory. From there, we should be able to walk for a good four hours before risking meeting a patrol. Flynn is obviously avoiding the patrols for my sake, and I am thankful for that. I am not sure if I could take any more bloodshed.
After I finish eating, we begin the day’s long trek. I start out strong, keeping pace with Flynn well enough. But after a few hours I begin to trail back, my ribs aching again, and Flynn repeatedly has to stop and wait for me. My foot catches a loose stone and I stumble forward a few steps, jarring my ribs. I manage to stifle my gasp of pain, but Flynn notices me wince.”
“We can stop here for a few minutes.” He sets his pack down on the ground.
“I’m fine, I can keep going,” I try to protest, but Flynn shakes his head.
“If you keep going like this you are going to damage your ribs even more and we can’t risk that.”
I see his logic so I take a seat on a fallen log; Flynn takes his place next to me. I notice he is staring at the sky with some concern. I glance up; dark clouds are rolling in quickly, and I can hear the distant rumbling of thunder. Flynn allows me to rest for a few more minutes, keeping his eyes on the sky.
“We should get going,” he says, finally, “I don’t like the look of those clouds, and getting caught in a storm out here can be deadly.” He offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. Our pace quickens as lightening dances across the sky and the crack of thunder resonates above us. Rain begins to fall, blurring my vision. The temperature is falling by the minute and despite the exertion of the walk, I start to shiver. Thunder crashes again, this time sounding much closer, followed by a strange thump like something heavy hitting the ground. Flynn stiffens and glances behind him.
“Brie, run! Now!” He shouts at me, his voice is tight with fear. I glance behind me and see the cause of his panic. A strange object has fallen to the ground behind us, creating a small crater.
“What is that?” I ask, freaked out by its sudden appearance. But one look at Flynn’s panicked expression tells me that this isn’t the time for questions and I start sprinting as hard as I can. We’ve only been running for about thirty seconds before a massive explosion rips through the forest. The force of it enough to knock me off my feet. The explosion sends down a rain of fire, igniting the dead brush and soon a deadly wall of flames is heading towards us.
Flynn puts his hand on my back forcing me forward and I run. Flynn stays a couple yards ahead of me and I watch his feet, stepping where he steps to avoid tripping. I am obviously slowing him down, but he stays with me. Smoke burns my eyes and the heat of the flames steals the air from my lungs. I allow myself to think just ten more feet until you can stop. The thought gives me strength even though there is no time to rest. Flynn turns sharply to the left. Where ever his destination is, if do not arrive soon, the fire will consume us. I am slowing down and even Flynn is gasping for breath. I have almost given up when I see our target. A wide river crosses our path a hundred yards ahead of us, broad enough to stop the fire’s progress. Using my reserve strength, I make a last sprint and reach the bank of the river. We splash into the lifesaving water and swim to the other side. I collapse on the opposite bank coughing. Flynn splashes his face, rinsing out his eyes, and takes several gulps of water. This seems like a good idea so I copy him. The water cools my burning throat and eyes. The storm has relented, but the rain has started falling harder, helping to wash away the smell of smoke. I no longer have to wonder what the strange object that caused the fire was; it was obviously the same thing that caused the fire on Thieves all those days ago: an invention of the PSC created to kill off residents and make room for new ones.
“They always send them during a storm,” Flynn says, confirming my theory. I guess that way they can make it seem like a lightning strike. “I’ve seen them before, but this was the closest I’ve even been to one.” He continues.
“How often do they send them?” I ask, almost afraid to know the answer. I can’t imagine living with that fear every time a storm comes.
Flynn shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “A couple times a year.” And I shake my head in dismay, life on Murderers is even worse than I could envision. How could anyone survive as long as Flynn has?
I would be content to stay here for the rest of the day, but Flynn stands up. “There is a chance that the fire may still make it past the river so I want to put some distance between us and it before we stop for the night. Though we can go a bit slower this time.” He gives me a smile that makes my heart flutter and I shoulder my pack and follow him away from the river.
