The Land Teams would find them soon. But a full tank could get them to the Bayou, so they waited and wondered, scared by every crack or twig or gust of wind.
“It was a trick, huh. That picture of my grandma—” Lark said.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You think she’s alive? That everything she said was a lie, but that was true?” Lark snorted. “Explain to me why everyone pretended she died?”
“Maybe that’s what she wanted…maybe your parents lied to you…maybe stop asking questions you can’t answer and that I certainly can’t answer. I don’t know your life.”
“I’m just talking out loud.”
“A bad habit if you ask me,” Octavia said and leaned her head back. She grumbled and then looked over at Lark, looking guilty. “I don’t know why your parents never told you the truth. My father raised me on the truth because I couldn’t live sheltered…never had the choice. We had a lot to fight outside your walls…”
“Why?” Lark asked. “Why’d your family do it?”
“We believed,” Octavia replied. “Your parents asked for protection…they were traumatized…and the Fathers met them where they were at. They never expected them to understand why only that they would abide by the oaths…”
“My parents…” Lark said, finding the time to think. She thought of the fires growing fast and orange in the night. And she wondered if she’d ever see them again. “They broke the oath.”
“Yes,” Octavia answered with a pained expression. “And it cost them,” she added. “She convinced me, too.” The Child of the Lake kicked her toe at the unconscious intruder. “She was a convincing liar…an important trait for a spy. And she had all the right answers. She knew the stories…the passwords…”
“Passwords are easy to fake. They’re just words…” Lark said and Octavia glanced up, and Lark could see the question in her glance. She quickly walked her statement back. “You told me that.”
Octavia realized Lark’s slip hid a secret between them. She sniffed and stared, not letting Lark wiggle away from the moment.
“So, who gave you my family’s code then?” she asked.
Lark, feeling like the worst spy, hung her head. “My father. From your father. He said they had to save the girl…she was from Ethan.”
“My guess,” Octavia said, glossing over the news of Lark’s falsehood with an air of expectation. “Is Ethan’s girl is long gone…and knowing what we know now…I’m sure my siblings are safe with the Fathers. Go figure.” She took a breath. “I don’t like not knowing who the bad guys are,” Octavia said with a sigh.
“I think we can be pretty sure about this one,” Lark said and pointed to Sally.
Octavia shook her head. “You can’t be sure of shit,” the girl drawled. “I thought I told you that already.”
The fuel clicked off. The plane was ready to fly again.
Octavia lifted Sally into the pilot seat of the Cessna and tied her hands to the wheel. Back in her bag, she produced smelling salts and ran them under the girl’s nose. She whipped awake, confused and disoriented. She tried to pull her hands free, but Octavia’s knots stayed firm. Octavia readied the gun back on Sally and narrowed her glance.
“Refueled. Now get us where we wanted to go,” she instructed.
“I won’t,” Sally said and she rolled her head. “I’m traceable. Wherever I go, they will follow. I still have my tracking chip…it was Ethan’s girl who tore it out of her own flesh.”
“Tell me where it is,” Octavia said and shifted forward. “Now.” She leveled the gun.
“My lower shoulder.”
Octavia handed the gun back to Lark and reached over to spin the girl toward her. In an instant, she jammed a small knife into Sally’s shoulder and opened up a ragged line down her side. “Get over here, Lark,” the Child of the Lake said after a few seconds of a struggle. “Put the gun down on the floor and then get in here. I think I can see her implant…but I’m going to need you to get your fingers in there to grab it.”
Lark was squeamish but she didn’t hesitate. She put the gun down and crawled over and noticed a shiny piece of plastic no bigger than a pencil’s eraser. She used her index finger to push it out of the girl’s skin. Once the plastic was out, Octavia slapped a bandage on the wound and taped it shut, not bothering to give it a stitch.
“Toss that to the ground outside and get the gun,” Octavia instructed and Lark opened up the door and let the strange thing drop to the ground. She turned to Sally while Lark grabbed the firearm off the floor. “Is that what you wanted Sally? A little bit of freedom? Now. Fly the plane.”
“Where?”
“The Bayou.”
“I’ll die.”
“Sally, Sally,” Octavia said and reached back to take her gun from Lark. She pushed the metal against her temple.
“Don’t call me that,” the girl said and trembled. “I’m Mittie. That’s my name. The name my mom gave me. And if I die, I die with that.”
“Mittie,” Octavia repeated. “Get this plane into the air.”
“You removed the chip…you don’t understand. My life expectancy isn’t long now. Four hours, at most. Once I’m off-line, I’m dead. We’re infected.”
Lark swallowed. “Contagious?”
“No, infected so we can be contained.”
“I can take you somewhere where they can save you,” Octavia said.
“Impossible.”
“Nope.”
“The Bayou,” Mittie repeated. “You can try.”
“Fly us there.”
“I will try.”
“Take-off. Then autopilot. Rest and we’ll wake you up to land.”
Mittie smiled weakly. Blood trickled down her shoulder and from the side of her mouth. The next time she tried to smile, her white teeth were smeared with red.
If Mittie was hesitant about taking off, she didn’t show it.
Lark saw the Land Teams men first, rushing toward their plane with their guns drawn. A few fired shots at the wings, but even tied to the wheel, Mittie still brought the plane up to speed and sailed over their would-be captors.
Once securely in the air, the three girls cheered and hugged tenderly, avoiding each other’s exposed wounds.
Sally, Mittie, the runaway, the spy—Lark didn’t know how to feel toward the girl; but it was clear her life was slipping from her.
After fifteen minutes of silence, Mittie spoke first. “Why did you care about saving me?” she asked.
Octavia’s eyes were closed and she shrugged. “Dammit, you didn’t figure it out yet? I can’t fly a plane.”
Lark didn’t know what to expect in the Bayou. When she tried to think about what might come next, her head hurt and she had trouble breathing. It was panic. The hours and days ran together and she didn’t even know how long ago it was that she crawled on the floor and heard Ethan’s name for the first time.
After safely landing the plane into the shallow murkiness of the Bayou, they disembarked into the mud and waited, unsure what was going to happen next. That was the extent of the instructions from Ethan’s girl, as told by the girl Mittie tortured, cutting off toes and fingers before moving on to her face.
“What now?” Lark asked.
“We wait,” Octavia said. Her eyes scanned the watery horizon.
And not more than five minutes later, a speedboat arrived from the distance. They watched its steady approach and when it rolled to a stop, the girls stepped forward. They were dirty and bloody and streaked with soot and grime.
Lark could tell twins were at the wheel.
“Get on,” one of the drivers said and motioned to grab Mittie first. She stumbled into the boat and curled up straight on the floor, shaking.
Lark turned to let Octavia go next. Neither twin seemed concerned about their physical state or her gun. As Octavia skidded on to the boat she pointed to Lark and made eye contact with their drivers.
“This is Lark,” she said and at the sound of her name
their rescuers paused. They looked up at Octavia who nodded, only once.
“Lark,” one of them breathed. The other smiled. “She looks like Lucy, huh.”
“Yeah. She looks like Mom.”
Lark caught an audible gasp from escaping and turned to Octavia, unsure if she wanted to get on the boat and face this part of her life.
“We’re your uncles…Malcolm,” the speaker pointed to himself.
“Monroe,” the other one nodded as he crouched to take care of Mittie. “We need to get her to Ainsley. She may not even have five minutes left…”
Without any other introductions, the boys sat her down and the boat sliced across the water, zipping around exposed pieces of old buildings and other abandoned ships. Debris and memories of a former life clouded up everything in sight, and up ahead Lark saw one glistening tower above all the others and it called to her. With water lapping its sides, the twins anchored the boat to permanent but makeshift dock on one side of the building.
Once on the dock, Monroe took the hook and a rope and harnessed himself and Mittie together. Then he scaled the side of the building with one hand, moving her effortlessly up and into the glassed skyscraper above her.
Malcolm turned to Lark and stretched out his arms. “You ever climbed up a building before?” he asked in a familiar teasing.
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Well, today is going to be a day of many firsts, I think.”
“An understatement,” Lark replied as she grabbed on to her uncle’s neck and hooked herself on to his harness. She buried her eyes and cleared her mind of all thought as the perfect stranger carried her up and up and into her grandmother’s shiny tower.
A grandmother she thought had died.
With uncles she never knew existed.
Up, up, above the water she glided further into the sky. She closed her eyes and wondered if her dreams of life outside the Colony ever looked like this. She didn’t want to admit it, but sometimes she thought the world kept moving on outside their Colony, and she was the only person kept from the truth.
Only now she understood that the truth was much bigger than she’d imagined.
When Malcolm swung them into the landing, the eruption of cheering and excitement carried through the entire place. She heard her name chanted in a clear rhythm and she spun, disoriented.
“Don’t hog her,” a voice called from behind and she turned toward a matronly figure standing and waiting to take a look at her. “Lark. My little Lark.”
Lark’s eyes filled with tears. She swept forward in the momentum and moved closer to the familiar, but unfamiliar, face in front of her. She was alive.
“Grandma?” But before anyone could answer she was swept up in a warm hug and lifted off the ground in a large swoop. She buried her face into her grandma’s neck, inhaling the scent of her and reeling. “You’re alive.”
“They told you I was dead?” Maxine laughed full-throttle as if it was the funniest thing. Lark wasn’t sure she understood the humor. “Maybe that was easier. No. I made a choice, Larkspur…not to hide. I was done hiding. To fight.”
“Fight the monsters?” Lark asked wide-eyed. She heard a few snickers at her mention of monsters, but she didn’t know what else to call them—she’d been told nothing, and now she faced a daunting new reality.
“Oh, yes, my darling.” Maxine kissed Lark on the forehead, eyes glistening. “And I know we’re gonna win.”
END OF BOOK FOUR
Next in the Virulent Chronicles
Book Five in the Virulent Chronicles:
The Bermuda Project
Coming in September
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Also by Shelbi Wescott
In addition to the Virulent Chronicles, Shelbi also writes the Ivy Falls Mysteries.
After Life
The Zodiac House
About the Author
Shelbi Wescott lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband (who is also a writer), her two children, her hound dog, and her one-eyed cat.
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