by Shade Owens
I nearly bumped into Trim when I stepped out into open space. She stood stiff with her arms on her waist and her muscular back leaning backward.
“Looks like they’re at it again,” she said.
The moment I peered over her shoulder, I wished I hadn’t. I turned away quickly, but the image kept flashing in my mind, almost like a painful pulsation. It was a woman lying in the dirt, her body positioned in the shape of a crucifix—her arms were spread out on either side of her, and her head hung loose to the side, her tongue sticking out. Her head had been shaved, leaving only patches of hair and a bloody scalp. I didn’t recognize her face, and because she was naked, there was no way of telling whether she was one of ours or a Norther.
Gashes and cuts covered her body, and right down the middle of her abdomen was a slit so wide it looked as though she’d been gutted, as though there was nothing left inside. These cuts, though… I’d seen these marks on a Norther before.
But it didn’t matter who the woman was.
I shook my head and words came spilling out. “This isn’t the first time…”
Rocket, whose face was so distorted she looked like a Mrs. Potato Head left in the hands of a two-year-old child, rubbed her forehead and started pacing. “What’re you talking about, Brone?”
Coin knew what I was talking about.
“The crocodile,” Coin said. “Marie…”
Trim slowly turned around, and it was hard to tell if she felt any emotion at all. Her eyebrows were flat and her lips remained the way they always did—in a straight line. How was she always so calm, so matter-of-fact about everything?
“In Redwood,” Coin continued. “The crocodile that attacked Fisher… We found it again. Well, Franklin did—”
“They don’t know Franklin, Coin. Get to the point,” I said.
“When we found the crocodile again, it had been gutted,” Coin said. “And Marie…” and then her eyes glazed over. I knew what she was picturing: her friend who’d been slit open and left to die with her intestines all over the jungle floor.
“Then we found another woman,” I cut in. “One of Coin’s friends.” I looked at Coin, but she turned away. “She’d been cut open and gutted.”
Trim’s eyebrows slowly came together; whether out of rage or thought, it was impossible to tell. Everyone watched her, waiting for her to guide us in the right direction. But I couldn’t wait—couldn’t stand around and watch her try to make a decision when I knew precisely what had to be done.
“We have to hurry,” I said.
Trim’s dark eyes rolled up at me, but not in a menacing way—she was receptive, prepared to listen to what I had to say.
I plucked an arrow out of my quiver and set it into my bow. “I think Redwood’s in dead center of Ogre territory.”
CHAPTER 6
“It’s right through here,” Coin said, brushing her fingertip over an engraving she’d earlier carved in a tree.
I was surprised to know that Coin had been assigned the task of Builder in the Village when she had outstanding hunting skills. She knew how to track, follow, and blend effortlessly into the jungle. The only downside was her poor vision, but Hunters needed other abilities that were as crucial as sight. Had I been in charge of the group, I’d have asked Murk that Coin join our crew.
“Who’s there?” someone shouted.
I stepped through a wall of giant, silk-textured leaves to find Johnson at the edge of Redwood, her knees bent, holding a spear over her head. Her eyes were wild above her freckled cheeks and her thick eyebrows came close together. She was ready to attack, her teeth bared like a dog hovering over a fresh carcass, but it was obvious the way she kept shifting and repositioning her spear that she’d never fought before.
I slipped my arrow back into my quiver and raised a hand to my face. “It’s me.”
Her big eyes shot behind me as Trim, Rocket, and Coin stepped forward, rustling through the jungle’s vegetation. She regripped her spear and bit down on her bottom lip, obviously confused by Trim and Rocket’s presence, but at last, she must have realized who they were.
“You’re the Hunters,” she said, lowering her spear.
Trim didn’t respond, but instead, nodded and stepped into Redwood craning her neck back to take in the view. She looked mesmerized, like a kid seeing a snowman for the first time. It made sense—she’d most likely never traveled this far. It was astonishing to think that the Village and the Working Grounds were only a fraction of a massive piece of land. But something else caught her attention—her best friend.
“Fisher,” she breathed and ran to Fisher’s side.
I let out a long breath, relieved to see Fisher was still alive, but she looked terrible. Her skin was blanched, almost mistakable for porcelain skin, and her dark eyes were closed at the centers of sunken blue bags.
“I’ve cleaned her wounds at least a dozen times,” Proxy said, straightening her frail figure. “Unfortunately, I do not believe this to be enough. It would appear that the infection has spread—”
“Who’s this?” Trim asked, throwing a thumb in Proxy’s direction.
I didn’t blame her for being so aggressive about it. Proxy was an acquired taste with her formal speech and brainiac comments.
“The person who’s been keeping Fisher alive,” Johnson said, crossing two thick arms over her big chest. “And who are you?”
Trim cocked an eyebrow and glanced at me. I was surprised to see Johnson come to Proxy’s defense, but I was even more shocked by her inability to recognize the leader of the Hunters. Everyone knew Trim.
“I’m Trim—” she started, but Johnson cut her short.
“I know who you are. I meant, what’s your role in all of this? You may be the leader of the Hunters, but you aren’t the leader of us.”
Franklin stepped forward now, stretching her lanky, tattooed arms and resting her hands on her hips. I glowered at her. I hated her as much as I’d once hated Hammer. At least she hadn’t destroyed Redwood during my absence. I worried her big mouth might have caused a fight. Everest was the next one to join the crowd, her fluffy white hair bouncing on her head as she limped her way over.
“Old rules don’t apply here in Redwood,” Johnson said. She was now standing face-to-face with Trim, who towered over her, but Johnson didn’t back down. Instead, she jerked her head sideways toward me. “Brone’s the leader here.”
If I hadn’t been paying attention, I’d have thought someone punched me in the gut. Me? Their leader? I almost burst out laughing.
Proxy raised a straight arm into the air. “I believe a vote is in order.”
“Shut up,” Johnson hissed.
“I vote Brone,” Proxy said. “Her intelligence is rather useful, and she is fair.”
Then Everest raised a wrinkled, veiny hand and said, “Zat’s my decision too. She saved our lives.”
Trim slowly turned toward me, and I swallowed hard. Was she going to challenge me? Trim was a beast. She’d snap me like a twig. But she didn’t do anything.
Instead, a sly smirk crept across her lips and she shrugged her muscular shoulders. “If Brone’s proved herself as a leader, then I have no objections.”
What was she doing? I didn’t want to be the leader. I wanted Trim to take charge. I didn’t want the stress of having to please everyone, of having to ensure everyone’s survival. This wasn’t a task intended for a nineteen-year-old.
Then, from behind the hammocks at the far back of Redwood came Ellie and Hammer carrying handfuls of bananas and coconuts. Hammer’s fat face stretched into a grin, and Ellie dropped her bananas.
“Lydia!” she shouted. She ran toward me and threw both arms around my shoulders.
“Ellie,” I breathed, pressing my face into the warmth of her neck. “I told you I’d be fine.”
She drew back, her chocolate-colored eyes analyzing every inch of my face. “I was worried sick.”
“All right, all right,” Johnson said, flicking a hand in the air. “Get a room
.”
But then, I remembered the woman we’d found—the mutilated body positioned in a crucifix—and I pulled out of Ellie’s hold.
“We need to leave,” I said.
“Leave?” Ellie said, and everyone started chiming in.
“Leave?”
“We’re finally getting settled.”
“Why are we leaving?”
“What’s going on?”
I raised a stiff arm into the air, and everyone went quiet. I wasn’t accustomed to receiving this much respect, but it was nice—definitely something I could get used to.
“We’re on Ogre territory,” I said, matter-of-factly.
Franklin’s eyes nearly lunged out of her head. As much as she tried to act tough all the time, she was probably the most fearful of us all when it came to Ogres. But when she caught me staring at her, she pulled her shoulders back and made her eyes go flat.
“Ogres?” she scoffed. “You expect us to buy into that?”
Trim stepped forward with a fist closed so tight, her knuckles looked like little knives. “You’d better put a filter on that trap of yours. When the leader gives an order, you obey it.”
Franklin rolled her eyes.
Was she insane? Trim could take her out with one punch.
“What’re you? Her guard dog?” she sneered.
In one swift motion, Trim grabbed Franklin by the throat. Prepared to make the blow, she raised her balled fist into the air, but Franklin didn’t budge. She stood still, her face swelling and darkening to a crimson color, a sly smile curving her lips.
“Trim,” I said, and she immediately released her grip. I didn’t want any more violence, especially not among our own. And there was no winning with Franklin. Even if Trim handed her a whooping, Franklin would eventually open her mouth again, or she’d attack when Trim wasn’t looking.
And what was going on, anyway? How on Earth did I have the ability to tell Trim what to do? To get her to stop? Trim turned around, her nostrils flared, and she stepped beside me. She leaned in, her hot breath hitting my ear.
“If you don’t teach them to respect you, they’ll walk all over you.”
“I get it,” I said, glancing up at Franklin who was still smirking. “But some people can’t be taught with violence. There are other ways.”
Trim nodded. I knew she understood—she’d banished women from the Village before. If anyone knew how to hurt a woman without violence, it was her.
“We’re leaving whether you like it or not,” I said, staring Franklin in that pointy-nosed, square-shaped face of hers. “You can either join us, or you can stay here and rot. And by rot, I mean most likely be gutted by an Ogre. Personally, I’d rather you stay here because it’s what you deserve, but I’m giving you the choice because I’m fair.”
Her narrow eyes shifted between me and everyone around me, evidently contemplating how best to approach the situation. But for the first time, she didn’t scoff or roll her eyes. She didn’t let out some snarky remark about how this Ogre thing was some fabricated story. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and nodded, looking like a kid who’d been given the option to either eat their vegetables or go to bed with an empty stomach.
I turned around, my eyes meeting Coin’s. “Can you build us some kind of gurney?”
“Gurney?” she blurted.
“A transportable bed,” Trim said. “For Fisher.”
Coin crossed her arms, and with her right hand, rubbed her jaw. “Y-yeah. Sure. I can put something together. Won’t have wheels though. We’ll have to pull her through the jungle.”
“I’ll help pull,” Hammer said, stomping her way over to us. Her belly jiggled and the flab of her arms flapped against her sides.
I was beginning to admire Hammer for her hard work. Aside from having made crocodile-skin boots and a vest for me, she’d already crafted us a handful of weapons including stone-carved arrows. Surviving Kormace Island without her was unimaginable.
“How much time do you need?” I asked, returning my attention to Coin.
She shrugged, placed two veiny black hands on her waist, and said, “Few hours, at most.”
I nodded. The sooner we left, the better were our chances of returning to the Cove unharmed. The last thing we needed was to travel at night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and unseen predators. And the last thing I wanted to do was sleep here one more night, knowing all too well it could be my last.
“Vell zat’s just great…” Everest mumbled. “I don’t know how much more my poor hips can handle.”
She limped her way to the small creek at the center of Redwood and slowly lowered herself onto a log by the campfire.
“I could help you with that,” Proxy said, pointing a straight finger in the air—something she seemed to enjoy doing every time she had a solution or an idea to offer.
“I don’t vant any of your drugs,” Everest said, sounding somewhat like Dracula.
“Well,” Proxy said, “you should know that the term drug is often utilized in a negative context when drugs are, in fact and for the most part, natural prior to being synthesized by money-grabbing organizations.”
Everest looked unimpressed. Her eyes resembled two balls of clay and she shook her head from side to side. Either she didn’t understand a single word that came out of Proxy’s mouth, or she didn’t care—it was hard to tell which, but I assumed it was the latter.
“But if you would simply allow me,” Proxy went on, “I would be happy to—”
“Yo, Lisa Simpson, let it go,” Johnson said. “White Mountain already told you no.”
I watched Everest as she stared into the unlit fire pit. She chewed on her lips over and over, her wrinkly chin moving back and forth. I knew she’d never talk to me—never open up about her past—but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that drugs bothered her on a deep level. Maybe she’d lost a loved one to drug abuse, or maybe she had messed up her life because of addiction. I would have loved to know her story, but I didn’t ask. She’d probably tell me to go fuck myself. Everest may have been old, but she was fearless; either that or extremely depressed.
“Look,” I said, breaking the back-and-forth bickering between Johnson and Proxy, “I know it sucks. I get it. I know everyone’s stressed out. I wasn’t planning on relocating again. I thought we’d be here awhile, but it isn’t safe. Trim here, and Rocket”—I pointed at my fellow Hunters—“found a safe space off the coast.”
Rocket nodded and stepped forward, her chest puffed out with pride, obviously attempting to make herself look bigger than a thirteen-year-old girl. “There’s a lot of space, and we’re right by the water. We have an endless supply of fish, and we’re protected by a barrier”—she craned her neck back, analyzing every inch of Redwood—“unlike this place.” She then cocked an eyebrow at me and curled her lip up over her front teeth. “Honestly, this place is pretty dangerous. I mean, really dangerous. You’re wide open everywhere. You could be attacked from any direction. Brone, what were you thinkin—”
“I get it, Rocket.” I extended my arm, palm facing her. “But we didn’t have a choice. We didn’t exactly have our pick. We needed a place to camp out. We were tired and starving.”
I received a few nods of approval around me.
“Brone’s right,” Hammer said. “We wouldn’t have made it another day.”
Franklin forced a cough into a closed fist and quickly said, “You would’ve.”
Hammer’s round nostrils flared and her mouth turned into an upside-down moon, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Got something to say, you fuckin’ walkin’ stick?”
Franklin let out a loud laugh. “Walking stick. Is that supposed to be insulting?”
“Yeah,” Hammer said. “You look like a fuckin’ twig insect with your bony little arms and your big-ass head!”
I’d been about to tell Hammer to calm down, but I didn’t. Instead, I caught myself smiling. Franklin did look like a bug, though I’d never noticed until now. I’d read about walking
sticks online before—insects that literally look like a twig with tiny arms.
“Oh, real mature,” Franklin said, waving an open hand in my direction. “And you call yourself a leader? Laughing at someone who’s being called an insect? How old are you, anyway? Fifteen?”
My smile stretched into a full grin. What was happening? It wasn’t that funny. But at the same time, it was. Was it stress? Fatigue? All I could picture was Franklin standing there with big bug eyes and little insect legs flailing from side to side.
“Sorry, Frank,” I said. “But Hammer’s right. You do sort of look like a bug.”
Everyone around me laughed—a magical sound I hadn’t heard in a long time, and Franklin let out an irritated grunt before turning around like a kid throwing a tantrum.
“What’s so funny?” someone moaned.
“Fisher!” Trim shouted. She rushed down to her knees, grabbing Fisher’s hand into hers. She kissed it, then pressed the back of her hand against Fisher’s forehead.
“Trim?” Fisher asked. “Rocket? Am I hallucinating?”
Trim squeezed her hand even tighter, and for a moment, it almost looked like her eyes were watering. I’d never mention it though, and even if I did, Trim would deny it.
“No, you aren’t,” Trim said. “It’s us. We’re here. Right here. We’re getting you out of here.”
Fisher’s colorless lips formed a soft smile, and she placed Trim’s hand over her heart. “Oh God, I missed you guys so much.” But that sweet look in her eyes disappeared almost instantly, and she lay there, her eyebrows slanted and her lips drooping down.
Her dark eyes rolled up to meet Trim’s. She let out a choppy breath, then said, “Don’t waste your time, Trim. I’m dying.”
CHAPTER 7
“That gonna hold?” Johnson asked, tugging at the vine ropes around the bed-like structure Coin had finished building.
