“Gabe is MG—that’s his real name,” I began to explain. “And without him I’d still be one of Herodson’s mind slaves…Herodson’s the General who’s doing the mind manipulation.”
“This is really bad. You do realize that this MG-Gabe guy is the reason you’re there, right?”
I snorted. “Yeah. We just had it out over that. It’s sort of complicated, and he didn’t really have a choice. But he’s going to do whatever he can to help me escape.”
“But you’re okay, right?” Zoe asked, sounding worried. God, I wanted to hug her.
“Yeah, I’m okay, more or less,” I said.
“That’s…good.” I could tell Zoe had more questions, but thankfully, she let them go. “So, what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”
“I just need some more time to gather intel and stuff. Otherwise, anything we do is suicide, which sort of defeats the purpose. You guys need to think about how you can use your Abilities to attack and defend, and maybe create a distraction. Without using Abilities, there’s no chance—not against these people.”
“Okay, but Jason’s not going to like this…just leaving you there,” she said, stating the obvious.
“So he’s okay?” I exhaled with relief. “I thought…when I couldn’t find him, or some of the others…I thought you’d been attacked or something.” When she said nothing, I added, “He is okay, right?”
I had the impression that she was sighing. “He’s nulling constantly, so I’m not exactly sure how he’s doing, but I think he’s better than he was.”
If he was surrounding himself with a nulling fog, it explained why I couldn’t get through to him. It also meant he’d probably lost control of his emotions, since they tended to impact his Ability. “Was he really that upset?” I asked.
“Uh…yeah. He ran off to go after you, but came back before he got himself killed. He’s calmed down some and is behaving a little more rationally now.”
“Wow…that’s just, wow. Can you, you know, let him know I’m trying to get through right now?” I asked, feeling desperate in my need to talk to him.
“It might be a while. He’s a little…out of it.” At her words, my heart seemed to pause for a few eternal seconds.
“What? Why?” I asked, clenching my fists. Something was wrong, I knew it. I could practically feel it in my bones.
“The bullet just grazed him—it’s not that big of a deal,” she explained. “Harper already stitched the wound up…and the cut on his face.”
I had to take four deep, calming breaths before I could ask, “He got shot? How?”
“We were in Cañon City, and some bad shit went down…he’ll tell you about it,” Zoe said, sounding way less freaked out than I felt. “But right now’s probably not the best time. He’s opted to dull the pain with whiskey instead of painkillers. But I promise, D, he’s okay.”
I forced myself to stay calm, to not demand that she make him let down his stupid nulling shield right that instant. “Okay…I’ll try him in the morning. Can you at least tell him I’m okay and that I…I don’t know…that I miss him.”
“Yes, of course I will. And I’ll make sure he’s sobered up to talk to you in the morning. I’m sure he’ll do it if he knows you’re trying to get through to him.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Zo…God, I miss you. I’m assuming you guys are moving camp…since you’re somewhere else right now.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Some of the others went ahead and are already setting it up…far away.”
“Okay, good. Don’t tell me where. If the General asks me, I need to be able to honestly say I don’t know…he’s got people like Ben.”
“Of course he does,” she said acerbically and then paused. “I’m really worried about you, D.”
“Honestly, I’m a little worried about me, too, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you guys risk your lives to get me out of here. Once we know more, we’ll come up with a good, safe plan,” I said, feeling the first twinges of exhaustion. “I hate to do this, but I gotta go. This is starting to wear me out. Love you, Zo.”
“Love you too. Be safe.” She paused, and then added, “And kick MG in the balls for me.”
“I’ll do my best,” I agreed before letting the connection go with an audible gasp of relief. Even with the power boost from Dr. Wesley’s neutralizer, I was pooped.
11
ZOE
MARCH 16, 1AE
I was still covered in blood. It was just after nightfall, hours after our altercation with the contingent of Colony soldiers in Cañon City. We were finally miles away and clomping along toward shelter and safety…somewhere.
The day felt like it was never going to end. The wind was picking up, and the sun had already sunk behind the Rockies, creating a violet-and pink-hued watercolor that had faded all too quickly. I hoped we would find a sufficient camping spot soon. I was worried I might fall asleep atop Wings, and falling more than five feet to the ground wasn’t how I wanted to end my day.
Harper had cleaned and stitched up Jason’s wounds and given him a bottle of whiskey to help ease his pain somewhere near the suburbs of Cañon City. My brother’s bullet wound was superficial, but there was no denying that the gash across his face would leave a nasty scar. More than anything, he needed rest; we all did. I just hoped the next shit pile didn’t land on us before we found a safe place to stay.
After my mind-convo with Dani, we agreed we needed to keep moving—the further into the mountains and away from our old camp, the better. We rode in silence as our horses trudged across fields of tall grasses and between sparse, squat fir trees.
Jake watched me closely. I knew he wanted to talk about before, about what had happened in the abandoned shop, but I’d been trying to avoid that as much as possible. Instead, I focused on Chris as she fussed over Jason as we rode along. She checked his wounds and tried, unsuccessfully, to influence his emotional grid. He wasn’t happy about Dani’s advice to hold back, nor was he happy that he’d missed his opportunity to talk to her.
“Whoa,” Harper said, bringing his chestnut, Delilah, to a stop.
“What the hell?” Sanchez said from her seat directly behind me on Wings. I pulled the horse to a stop beside Delilah.
Cooper and Jack continued trotting along, their fluffy tails wagging back and forth through the tall grass, but everyone else halted alongside us.
I followed Harper’s line of sight and found the moonlit outlines of what looked like several buildings.
“Looks like a town,” he said. “Jake, let’s check it out. The rest of you…” He looked back at us, taking in our disheveled states: Jason drunk, Chris struggling to keep him upright, Sanchez massaging her twisted ankle, and me still a little shaky and covered in dried blood. “Um, the rest of you just stay put.”
“I can come with you guys,” Carlos said, and he nudged Arrow forward.
Harper nodded. “Let’s do it.” The three men coaxed their horses into a trot and made their way through the scattered trees. Before they reached the buildings, they dismounted, tied their horse’s reins to a couple of scraggly branches, and readied their weapons—a pistol for Jake, an assault rifle for Harper, and Chris’s shotgun for Carlos.
The three of them crept up to the side of the nearest building, a structure that appeared to be covered in wood shingles, before disappearing around a corner. I looked back at Chris, who just returned my stare, the embodiment of calm, but I could feel her anticipation. This could be really bad, or really good, I thought.
After a half hour, the horses were getting antsy, and I couldn’t sit still in my saddle—especially not with Sanchez anxiously breathing down my neck, literally. What’s taking so long?
“Should one of us go after them?” I asked.
“That would be stupid,” Jason slurred as he emptied the last of the whiskey into his mouth.
I rolled my eyes. “How are you even staying on your horse?”
Whatever Jason’s smart-ass retort was, I didn’t hear it.
I felt a sudden sense of apprehension, and my muscles tensed—but it wasn’t my own fear that made me uneasy. Someone else—someone new—was frightened.
Scanning the darkness around me, I sought out the source of the fear. The moon was low and bright, providing a decent amount of light to see. Is someone hiding in the shadows?
“What is it?” Sanchez whispered, her head darting around anxiously. “Do you feel something?”
“Shhh,” I said, trying to push everyone’s growing concern away. “Someone’s here.” I struggled to dismount, Sanchez still straddling Wings behind me.
“Zoe—” But Jason’s objection was lost in the flash of a memory belonging to a boy who felt uncertain and curious.
I saw the boy’s mom being brutally raped and then murdered by Crazies in the alleyway behind their apartment. I watched his baby sister being hauled away for only God knew what fate. All the while, the boy writhed in pain, broken and bloody on the wet pavement, watching his family die horrible deaths while he could do nothing.
The memory faded in and out, and then a man was there, a gun shoved in his back pocket and a bow and quiver strapped to his back. He killed the Crazies somehow, but the boy could barely see, his vision waning along with his consciousness.
“It’s alright, boy,” the man said in a Australian accent. “What’s your name?”
“Sam,” the boy barely breathed.
“Sam, I’m Tavis. You’ll be alright. I’ve got you now.” He gathered the boy’s limp body into his arms.
Unwilling to see another of the boy’s memories, I closed my mind to his, wherever he was. “Sam?” I ignored the others’ protests as I stepped away from Wings, focusing on the shadows around me. For some reason, I wasn’t scared. I knew he was only a boy and posed no danger to us. “Hello?” I called out again. “Sam?”
Sanchez and Chris dismounted and readied their guns.
It was eerily silent for a moment before Wings’s head shot up and I heard muffled footsteps in the grass a couple yards away.
“Who are you?” a small, distrusting voice asked. “And how do you know my name?” Sam appeared from the shadows, a drawn arrow aimed at my chest.
I raised my hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. “We won’t hurt you.” I bit the inside of my cheek for a moment, unsure how willing he was to listen. “My name is Zoe. These are my friends. That’s my brother Jason,” I said, pointing. “That’s Chris, and this is Sanchez.”
The boy stared at me for another moment. “Why are you covered in blood?” he asked, keeping his bow trained on me.
I examined my clothes, which appeared muddy in the moonlight. How can he tell it’s blood? “There was an incident in town,” I started. “We need a place to stay, to get cleaned up and rest for the night.”
The man from Sam’s memory, Tavis, stepped out from the shadows behind Sam, two rabbits hanging from a tether held between his fingers.
“Stop right there,” Sanchez warned.
Like mine had, Tavis’s hands rose in appeasement as he studied us. “Just a couple of dead rabbits,” he said in an Australian accent. After a few seconds, he lowered his hands and refocused his attention on me. “So, you got into a bit of trouble?”
“Soldiers from the Colony. They tried to kill us.” I stood silently, waiting for his reaction.
“Did you kill any of them?” Sam asked, his voice flat.
I nodded, my mind eased by their growing sense of relief.
“How do you know my name?” Sam asked again, finally lowering his bow.
I eyed the boy, considering how much to tell him. “I saw one of your memories,” I admitted.
“Zoe,” Sanchez hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”
I peered over my shoulder at her. “It’s okay…they’re okay.”
Sanchez scowled and took a deep breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Turning back to our new acquaintances, I sincerely hoped I did too.
“Where are your mates?” Tavis asked, pointing to the three horses tied up at the edge of the clearing.
“They’re checking things out,” I said. “Seeing if it’s safe to stay here.”
Sam looked back at Tavis, who gave him a nod, and the boy started to walk past us. “Come on then,” he said.
I couldn’t help but smile at the grown-up, matter-of-fact way Sam had about him.
Tavis stopped in front of me, outstretching his hand. “Tavis,” he offered, and I shook it. “It’s nice to meet people who aren’t completely crazy.” His eyes were heavy with exhaustion and gratitude, and I wondered how long it had been since he’d seen any sane, non-Colony survivors. “You heard the kid,” he said with a smile to Chris and Sanchez. “Come on.”
I glanced at Sanchez, who took a deep, steadying breath. “Shall we?” She motioned for the rest of us to follow them and headed over to gather our other three horses, while I collected Wings’s reins.
“Are we sure about this?” Jason asked. I was surprised by the lack of criticism in his voice.
I met his eyes and then Chris’s before nodding. “They’re safe, unless Chris feels something I don’t,” I said quietly.
Chris shook her head, confirming my assessment, and led her horse to follow our hosts as they approached a stable. “Sanchez,” she said as we drew closer. “Give the guys a heads-up so they don’t accidently shoot us or the boy, would you?”
“So…what is this place?” I called to Tavis.
He chuckled. “A ghost town. Welcome home.”
Unloading the last of our things, Sanchez, Harper, Carlos, Chris, and I dispersed inside an old boarding house—Sackett House, the faded, splintered sign above the door read. There were two parlor rooms we could hunker down in on the ground floor and three bedrooms upstairs. Tavis offered one of the bedrooms to Jason and Chris so he could rest comfortably and she could keep an eye on him, one to Sanchez, and the third to me.
“We like to sleep by the fire,” Tavis had explained, but the look in his eyes and the feelings of sympathy and protectiveness that filled him at the thought told me there was more to the story. We didn’t argue.
After bringing in wood from a stack Tavis showed me behind the house, I started a fire in the fireplace in the larger parlor and set a pot filled with chili over the flames. I figured feeding our hosts was the least we could do, since we’d encroached on their current home. Cleaning the blood off of my face was the next logical thing to do, but I lingered by the fire, unsure if I was ready to risk running into Jake outside in my search for water.
“Are you okay, Baby Girl?” Harper asked as he dropped his duffel bag in the corner of the room between a rickety rocking chair and a small reading table with a dusty oil lamp sitting on it.
I nodded and smiled. “Sure. I was just checking out our new digs,” I lied. Lending credence to my words, I walked slowly around the room, taking my time and studying the old federal-style furniture decorating the rectangular space. The fireplace was situated in the center of the wall furthest from the door, a bookcase on either side of it. The outer side of each bookcase was flanked by a narrow, single-pane window. Even in the candle and firelight, I could tell they were trimmed with cobwebs and adorned with yellow-stained, moth-eaten lace curtains. An antique, faded pink sofa and two matching chairs hugged a petite, water-stained table. A player piano was set against a wall to the right all by itself, and beneath it was an octagonal area rug that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a Pottery Barn magazine. Right, because that fits. Everything needed to be refinished or replaced, except the rug.
Tavis entered the room, stacking another heap of wood beside the fire. He had mussed, dirty blond hair, and when he smiled at me, his eyes bright in the firelight, I could see they were a vibrant blue.
“About a week back,” he said unexpectedly, “Sam and I were on our way to the Colony—just leaving Cañon City, actually—when we watched a group of soldiers kill three blokes.” He paused for a moment, stoking the fire. “I dunno wh
y the patrol was in town or why they shot the poor bastards. Maybe the three of ‘em were trying to leave—they were running away from the uniforms—but…” He stared into the fire thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I conceded.
Tavis’s eyes found mine, and he offered a sympathetic smile. “If you want to get washed up, there’s a trough of fresh water out by the stable. That’s what Sam and I’ve been using.”
I shifted my gaze to Sam, who was watching Sanchez and Carlos intently. They were sitting on the worn wood floor, cleaning and inventorying the weapons we’d collected from the black-bands. The boy appeared to be around ten years old, with dark brown, disheveled hair that hung in his shrewd, pale eyes. Like Carlos, Sam’s expression wasn’t that of a child, but of someone much older.
Since we’d arrived, Sam’s excitement and Tavis’s sense of relief had grown stronger, and I felt a stab of guilt. I had a group of companions and a semblance of safety. I’d never really considered what surviving would be like for the people who didn’t have what I did, who were alone or without a means to protect themselves. While Sam and Tavis seemed to have adapted well enough, it wasn’t without a price. I could see their struggles in the lines on their faces and the weariness in their eyes.
“Something wrong?” Tavis asked, and I wondered how long I’d been staring at the two of them.
I shook my head, offering a slightly embarrassed smile, and went in search of something to clean myself off with. I knew there had to be something I could use in place of the one towel and washcloth I’d brought with me. I didn’t want to stain them with someone else’s blood.
“There’s linen napkins in the cupboard,” Tavis offered, pointing to a door beneath the stairs.
“Thanks,” I said before he exited out the front door. I opened the closet to find a propane lantern, along with spare propane, batteries, and flashlights. Yahtzee! Then, thinking of the cold trough water that awaited me, my excitement faded. I sighed, missing the luxury of a hot shower.
I stretched to pull a napkin down from the top shelf, just as an arm reached over my shoulder to grab one instead. I felt the heat of a body behind me. Jake. Steadying my nerves, I turned to face him.
Into The Fire (The Ending Series) Page 14
