Blood Awakens

by Jessaca Willis

  “Who are you?” He asked lightly, though his suspicions were still rampant. Using children as bait for an ambush was not unheard of these days.

  “I’m…M-my name is Adelaide Mills…sir,” she stammered, curled on her back with her legs and arms bent like an immobilized bug.

  “And why are you here, Adelaide?”

  “Well…Sean,” she began to answer.

  Both Mara and Sean shared a side look of concern. The girl had been eavesdropping for quite some time if she knew Sean by name.

  “I live here.”

  Meeka tutted. “You poor thing.”

  Instantly, Sean too felt his heart crumple for the child. He saw it then, the sincere hollowness in her eyes. Thinking of everything she’d seen, what she’d had to endure to survive, it was enough to make him lower his defenses.

  Maybe their arrival hadn’t been for nothing.

  Sean took a step, but when the girl flinched, he knelt down where he stood instead. With exaggerated slowness, he reached for the canteen in his pack and extended it out to her.

  She examined every one of them first before finally turning her attention to the water and snagging it from his grasp. She gulped it greedily and Sean was relieved at the small sign of trust.

  “So, what happened out there?” Carson asked when she came up for a breath of air.

  “Carson! You’re the worst, you know that?” Ryka scolded. “She’s just a child—”

  “I’m not a child,” Adelaide snapped, jumping to her feet and straightening her back. “I’m thirteen, that makes me a teenager.”

  “She meant no offence,” Sean said, two hands held up for mercy. “My friend here is right though. He shouldn’t have asked. We should get you somewhere safe…” he allowed himself to trail off when he noticed how firmly the girl was holding his gaze. It didn’t feel dangerous, more like an intellectual prowess. Like she was deciphering his soul.

  Finally, she said flatly, “You came to save us, but you were too late.”

  Sean noticed Mara tensing. “You couldn’t possibly know that,” she accused, leaping between Sean and the girl, who willingly backed away from Mara’s proximity.

  “Of course, she knows,” Sean let a breath escape him, a spark of laughter with it. Suddenly he understood. “She’s a listener.”

  “A listener?” Mara asked, looking more cautious than she did intrigued. “She can read minds?”

  Adelaide shook her head. With her hands tangled together at her midriff, she let her gaze drift to anything but to the people in front of her and corrected, “It’s more like I can hear thoughts.”

  Rolling her eyes, Mara addressed Sean. “I don’t trust this.”

  He balked. “Trust what?”

  “This girl, what she’s saying,” she grabbed his shoulder and spun him away from Adelaide for privacy. Really, it was a futile attempt in the presence of a listener. “For all we know she’s a decoy or a spy. She could be the very person responsible for all of this.”

  Forehead creased, Sean tilted his head. “She’s not. Trust me. Blood guides did this, and she’s not one of them.”

  Mara didn’t have to ask how he knew, she was well aware that he could smell what kind of Awakened someone was based off the scent of their blood alone. Instead, she said, “If she’s innocent, then how did she survive? These blood guides, they killed everyone except her. Why would they let her live?”

  The thought made him wince. If he allowed himself to admit it, it was considerably suspicious. The people who murdered the members of Surviving & Thriving did so malevolently, without a hint of remorse. As much as he’d like to think that adding a child to the kill list would be unacceptable, it didn’t seem to be in their character to care.

  When the two of them turned around to question Adelaide further, a cloud loomed over her. Neither of them had to say a word, she must’ve already heard it in their minds.

  “I was supposed to be apprenticing with the blacksmith today, Eman.” When Adelaide spoke, recalling the events that had transpired not hours prior, her voice was so devoid of emotion it was chilling. “My mom thought it was time for me to learn a trade, so the townspeople would find me more useful and focus less on…how I made them uncomfortable.”

  She peered up then, gauging the reactions from the group. Sean could only guess that she meant because she was a listener and could easily imagine how people, even other Awakened, would find that particular skill unsettling. People don’t like other people knowing their deepest darkest secrets and thoughts. Not that he thought they were justified in their fear, but he could relate. It was common to receive a similar reaction from others when they found out he was a blood guide.

  “But of course,” she started again, this time a hint of remorse snaking its way through every word. “I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to carry heavy metals and sweat near a furnace all day, I just wanted to…” When she shook her head, looking up to the sky, searching, a singular tear slid down her cheek. “Play. Be a kid. Be away from the people that judged me—and even the ones that didn’t.”

  She drew their eye contact again. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a listener. There’s no off button, I just hear everything. Every thought, every day.”

  Sean nodded, for he understood completely. It was like that way for him too. The sound of throbbing hearts had become a constant in this new life. It was hardest in large crowds, and even being in a community like Hope had its challenges. Luckily, as long as he wasn’t crammed in a room with twenty other people, for the most part he’d learned to drown it out. It didn’t sound like that had been an option for her.

  “It wasn’t,” she answered. “The only option I ever had was getting away from people.” Adelaide cleared her throat then and her arms floated up to opposite shoulders in an embrace. “So, I left. I was just wandering, checking out abandon cars, kicking rocks along the desert, trying not to be so bored but grateful to be away.”

  When her lip started to quiver, Sean suddenly realized where this was going. She was the only one left, she was who Carson had sensed earlier.

  “It was the screaming that called me back. I ran. I ran so fast that my legs felt numb, but when I got close enough, it was their thoughts that made me stop. I heard our friends pleading for their lives, I heard others praying for a quick death,” Adelaide’s cheeks were slick, eyes bloodshot. There was no composing herself for the next sentence she uttered. “And then I heard my mom. She just kept saying, over and over again, ‘Addy, please be safe. Addy don’t worry about me, just hide’.”

  It was like his heart had been cleaved in two, the wound of his own brother’s death always fresh and waiting to be re-opened.

  “I-I didn’t know what to do. I probably would’ve ran looking for her, but her thoughts silenced shortly after. So, I hid.”

  “Oh, Motherless world…” Meeka sighed despairingly.

  Sean looked to Mara, a silent acknowledgement that they’d gotten the answers they needed.

  “I should’ve been here,” the tears streamed like rivers now, raging and chaotic. “I should’ve saved them!”

  It was Sean who approached her, feeling something more than just obligation or sympathy. The pain of losing a loved one, that was something most people nowadays had unfortunately experienced. But there was a difference between losing someone you loved and feeling responsible for their death, realizing that, had you been where you were supposed to be, or had you been there sooner, that they might still be alive.

  Gently, he rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed under the jolt of each sob. “There was nothing you could’ve done.” It wasn’t said in the cliché way that people don’t know how else to comfort someone. He spoke the words genuinely and knew it was a sentiment that everyone grieving with guilt had to learn for themselves over time. But he also said it because he knew she could hear all the other components to it in his thoughts.

  Adelaide blinked up at him and gave a small nod.

  Sean felt his
hands hovering to his collarbone to his family heirlooms. When he saw her eyes catch on the movement, he dropped his hand in shame. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s alright. That’s why I’m here actually. I wanted to find my mom and…have something of hers.”

  He smiled, sadly, for their melancholic similarities. But his expression, however slight, diminished when he remembered the state of the people back on the main strip. Most of the bodies were hardly recognizable as human anymore, they were just discarded fragments. No child—no teenager, he corrected—needed to see that, especially not if their parents were among the bodies.

  “Just my mom,” Adelaide corrected as she wiped her cheeks dry.

  “Still,” Sean said softly. “It’s not a pleasant sight, even when they’re people you didn’t know.”

  Meeka, exercising tenderness, added. “Are you sure it’s best for you to find her? You could give us a description and we could find her and retrieve whatever it is you wanted.”

  It sounded like a reasonable solution to Sean, but Adelaide shook her head mildly. “I need to say goodbye.”

  Despite his better judgement, Sean nodded. “Alright, we’ll all come with you then.”

  Adelaide led the way to a house on the other side of the street, second one from the end. As she had predicted, they found her mom inside, or at least what was left of her. Sean tried not to focus on her flayed skin and burst heart, but rather on the young girl crossing through her home for the last time.

  He wasn’t sure if she could hear anyone’s thoughts then considering, but he found himself thinking, I’m so sorry, Adelaide.

  She turned to give him a faint, broken smile that couldn’t reach the pupils of her eyes, before bending over to retrieve a bracelet from her mom’s erupted arm.

  A ceremony of sorts followed, as Adelaide lit a candle for her mom and said a Sanjari prayer and covered her with a sheer, pink and yellow scarf. The rest of the bodies were ruefully left to the wild animals for cleanup.

  There wasn’t much else to be done for Surviving & Thriving. Another sanctuary lost to fear and hate.

  While the others gathered unused supplies, Sean worked on a sign. Using a thick, brownish paste he created from smashed rocks, dried flowers, and the remnants of water from his canteen, he finger-painted a message in the event that others like Adelaide had survived and were seeking harbor.

  United we are strong, together we will overcome.

  Rest in peace Surviving & Thriving friends, you will be missed, but never forgotten.

  Sincerely,

  Sean Turner

  Head Sentient of Hope

  Find us in California if you want to be a part of our peaceful future.

  When the sign was complete, Sean allowed a stream of tears to be shed.

  He’d failed them, every last one of them. Over the course of a month, they’d sent numerous cries for help, but he’d ignored them all. Just like he had ignored Samson’s pleas for help, for action. From the beginning, Sean had taken leadership to prevent things like this from happening. But he’d become compliant, hyperfocused on his own remedial problems at Hope.

  Sean slumped onto a log. When he heard footsteps nearing, he rubbed the tears away and turned to face the young girl. Like his, her eyes were also not dry. She took a seat next to him.

  “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  His heart bled for her, for all the loss she’d endured. And it had been his fault. “You’re more than welcomed to come with us,” he offered. “There’s plenty of space at Hope, and we’d love to have you.”

  “How big is it?”

  Sean shrugged. “By now, we must have at least six hundred people living there. Mara would probably know the exact numbers. Hey, Mara!” he swiveled to get her attention from a nearby stall, but Adelaide’s sigh re-focused him.

  “That sounds too big for me, too many people to listen to.”

  It dawned on him then that he should’ve said something sooner about the benefits of being a member of Hope. Finally, something that could possibly bring some light to a dark day. “That’s the thing, we take in people like you all the time. Empaths, listeners, others who can’t control their powers yet, or ever.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded with enthusiasm. “I’m not great at explaining it, but we have things that can help, so that you can turn it off sometimes.”

  Adelaide beamed up at him weakly and agreed to at least check it out for herself.

  When the others were finished, the two of them stood from the log to head back to the utorian.

  As they left the premise of Surviving & Thriving, Adelaide tugged on his arm until he bent over to ear-level. “You didn’t fail every person here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Santiago

  “We’re not far now,” Graciela huffed while leaning harder into Santiago to support his stance. “Maybe a couple hours. We can either keep going or rest now and continue tomorrow. It is getting dark.”

  Getting dark? If Santiago had the energy, he would’ve barked a short laugh. It had been dark for over an hour already, but they’d been hopeful they’d reach the Texan sanctuary before the end of the night.

  He hated to admit it, but his health was deteriorating at an alarming rate and prevented them from maintaining a decent pace. He knew Graciela could hear him wheezing with every step. Dystrophy rendered his muscles nearly useless, despite his memory of the endurance they’d once known. It was becoming more of a struggle to stay awake each day, but he pushed himself as hard as he could.

  “I’m tired,” he paused to catch his breath, inconveniently timed with his words. He fought off Graciela’s concerned look. “I’m tired of sleeping on the road. If we can make it tonight, then let’s do it.”

  With a grunt, Graciela resituated herself under Santiago’s armpit. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  Every word she spoke was like a dagger, for each one held a healthy dose of human emotion. She couldn’t help it, Santiago knew that. All this time she’d done her best to keep her feelings at bay, but Santiago knew better than most that oftentimes they just happen. Like the frustration welling up inside of him at his own helplessness, it wasn’t something that could be stopped, no matter how much Graciela insisted.

  The only thing that ever really helped was resting so that he could recover enough to not need to lean on his sister when they traversed.

  It was surprising how much light the moon and stars offered in the middle of nowhere, unencumbered by buildings or trees. Up ahead, Santiago spotted a singular leaf on the only tree between them and yet another ghost town.

  “Maybe we can take a little rest,” he said. “But just a few minutes.”

  Graciela nodded and continued toward the town.

  Knowing Graciela would use the opportunity of this break to search the small town for supplies, he pointed to the tree. “It might be good to keep me outside of town, so I’m not too close to you while you search.”

  A soured look bled through her expression, one that Santiago understood to mean she didn’t like him being so far away or so out in the open. But, in the middle of the desert, at night, something told him he’d be fine.

  “It’s too dark for anyone to see me even if I was standing out in the open. Help me to the tree. I’ll be fine.”

  So, she did.

  In a dozen steps, they reached the fractal shadow of bare branches, cast by the bold brightness of the moon. Graciela lowered him gently. Santiago let his eyes close the second he became seated, a perfectly placed knot offering support to the back of his neck as he rested it against the tree’s base.

  Within moments, he was drifting.

  As far as Santiago was concerned, his dreaming life was infinitely more enjoyable than his conscious one. It was a time when he found respite from the Awakened curse shadowing over him, the time away a gift of experiencing health and liveliness once again. Even if the pain did seep into this fantasy world, he would still prefer it to
the other.

  After all, his normal life didn’t have her in it.

  She seemed to be the leading lady of his dreams, and every night he was eager to get the chance to see what she would star in next.

  During the previous night’s broadcasting, the woman had gone for a run, leaving the village compounds he had become so acutely familiar with, finally halting atop a desert peak. Once she deemed the location secure, she reached into her bag to retrieve a pair of delicate wrappings, fitting them tightly on her feet and up her calves. It was the first time he had seen her dance, utterly uninhibited by the rest of the crumbling world.

  It was like dancing was imprinted in her genes. Her wrists had wilted, a pointed toe soaring high overhead, and she had nearly been kissing the ground. Leg outstretched, the pose lasted just long enough for her to swing into a momentous twirl, toe to knee. She’d spun once, twice, three times, before landing softly, like a tuft of cloud, onto her other foot. Contentment rippled from her core.

  Although she had been wearing a discolored brassiere and a pair of filthy, tattered pants that had draped loosely at the knees, Santiago had practically been able to see the gown her dance had been made for. A vision of red swirling on the horizon, blending with the hues of the sunset.

  Her performance had given life a new meaning.

  It was obvious to him that she found solace up there in the hills, for some reason uncomfortable with sharing this part of herself with anyone else.

  Santiago had stopped counting, but he figured that was the seventh or eighth dream he’d had where she had been involved. Oftentimes, he popped in during her moments of solitude, finding her mid melancholic song or curled up on a cot at night, silently gazing at family photos. He preferred these moments to the ones of her training other Awakened and planning the community’s defenses, partially because he felt like the time shared was more intimate, but mostly because he felt privileged to get to know the woman that she hid from everyone else.

  He was aware that in many ways these visits were a breach of privacy, and a better man would be able to forfeit these moments to her, to turn away or walk to a different edge of slumber. But he was not a better man. And he had no desire to be. Santiago could have watched her dancing for hours.