“Check.”
“And we know that Carter’s radio room is all the way at the other end of the grounds.”
“Check.”
“Sooooooo…” Sara’s voice trailed off.
Fi watched her two-month-old son drool on her friend’s shoulder and she couldn’t suppress a grin. He was totally out. Whenever she watched him sleep, she wished she could remember what it felt like to sleep like that. Of course, it would be nice if he’d sleep longer than four or five hours at a time, but at least when he did sleep, he slept hard. “So,” she said, focusing, “we have some good information. It seems like we can possibly separate both Carter and the settlers from the majority of the Angels.”
“I hate freaking calling them that. It makes me want to puke.” Sara stuck her tongue out and gagged.
“I know,” Fi agreed. “Should we just call them Lobos ourselves?”
“Definitely. I vote yes on proposition ‘call it like it is.’”
“It’s a deal, Sar. Lobos for life.”
“Don’t you mean ‘Lobos for death?’” Her whisper was fierce.
“True,” Fi smiled grimly. “If we can just take out the ones at the east end by his cabin. How many were there?”
“Five. Plus the eight on the cliff.”
“You mean the ones with our AKs?”
“Yeah, taking them out will be crucial. Plus the other ninety-three Lobos.” Sara pressed her hands to her temples. “Now the question is, how do we get this information back to our people? With all those guards on the cliffs, it’s going to be hard to send a message in a bottle like we’d thought.”
“Yeah, that’s a problem.”
“And we have to stall Carter too.”
“One problem at a time, Sara. One problem at a time.
My Blood is My Truth
------------ Carter ------------
“My blood is my truth,” Carter intoned, reveling in yet another Baptism Day. They always cheered him up. Something about all that soul-baring ritual and blood, the way that people fell apart and let him rebuild them. It was warming to know they were in the palm of his hand, he thought, enjoying the pun.
The younger of the two sisters, Sara, stood on the milk crate above the gathered, her newly bobbed ebony hair shining in the shaft of light from the skylights above. Dr. Rossi raised his scalpel and it glinted. Carter caught a flinch in his peripheral vision, but it wasn’t from Sara, it was from Marie, seated in the circle of onlookers at Sara’s feet. The corners of her eyes pinched as the scalpel bit into her sister’s flesh, the red blood bubbling up pure and hot.
Not that he was surprised. No matter the Truther’s enthusiasm for this ritual, no one liked to see it happen to their loved ones. That was the beauty of it, he thought, once you put someone through something like that…something that barbaric, well, it stood to reason that they would believe that much more, didn’t it?
And it also stood to reason that once someone had gone through that, they’d insist that the others do it as well. For a moment his eyes flicked to Silas, standing against the far wall with his arms folded over his chest, his weapon slung behind him.
“My blood is my truth.” Sara’s voice was calm as she repeated Carter’s words.
With the exception of tiny beads of sweat at her brow, he wouldn’t have believed that a man was slicing into her hand right at this very moment. That was surprising. He’d never seen anyone come through the ritual like this, still as stone, quiet as a lake at dawn, without a ripple to suggest pain or sorrow…or anything. It almost made him fear her, for a moment.
But no, he thought, shaking it off, she was just trying to prove herself. That must be it. That was why she’d said all that silly stuff in her confessions about smoking pot once and kissing boys. Though he had to admit, the gasps she’d elicited had been so amusing that he’d bitten the inside of his cheeks raw to keep from laughing.
What a strange crew he’d assembled. The Angels gasped in delight, happy to hear something with even a tinge of scandal, while the Truthers gasped in shock, so prim and proper that they’d forgotten the pre-Famine world, a world where nudity had been a commodity and a little backseat groping wouldn’t even have registered in the societal consciousness. How he’d managed to pull those two poles together into a united effort was a mystery, even to him.
And yet, perhaps every yin needed its yang in this world. Like the sisters. His gaze dropped once more to Marie, grimacing and bouncing her tiny son in her lap. Even though they came from the same family and upbringing, Marie was soft and kind and quiet, whereas Sara…she was quiet, but it wasn’t the reassuring kind of quiet. He met Sara’s eyes, staring into those still, dark orbs, her blood pooling in her hand. She was the perfect addition to his island of misfit toys.
It was too bad that he wouldn’t live to see the fruits of all these labors, he thought, almost somberly, as he reached for his worn Bible. He’d enjoy seeing his influence spread across the world, like Jesus. He frowned. Or maybe more like L. Ron Hubbard. Unless that guy actually believed any of the crap he wrote, he thought. Regardless, he wouldn’t see the outcomes of all these machinations: the rituals, the sermons, the “Movement.” Because the clock was ticking on him too.
One day he would have his revenge, full and complete, like a last meal to a dying prisoner. It would heal him, sealing up all his holes and cracks, the savage, charred wreckage of a man annihilated. He would take the Liars down, one by one, and then when he was done, when he was as stuffed as a human being could be on eyes and teeth stolen back, he would finally walk back to edge of that cliff, and this time he’d just keep walking.
------------ Fi --------------
Fi’s heart was pounding so hard that it felt like her sternum would crack, but Sara didn’t even flinch. She pressed her bleeding palm to the stained, leather-bound Bible offered by Carter. Yech, Fi thought. Not only was this ritual insane, it was unsanitary.
“Now it’s Marie’s turn.”
Carter gestured as Sara stepped down to the sound of quiet applause. Dr. Rossi began wrapping her hand. Fi took a deep breath and handed Luke to Nona before stepping up onto the crate. She squinted in the light before turning back to face the crowd. As her vision adjusted, her hands grew clammy.
The place was filled to the brim with Truthers. They perched prissily on benches and chairs, dotting every table, shelf, and inch of floor space. Their bobbed heads gave the impression of mushrooms littering a forest floor. They’d all done this, she thought. Just like Silas said. They’d all bled. The cover of Carter’s Bible was black with their “Truth.”
She swallowed hard, forging ahead. “I’ve been vain,” she began, “that’s why I already wear my hair short.” Her fingers fluttered toward her raven curls. There were murmurs of approval. Good. She and Sara had thought that one would go over well when they planned their confessions. “I’ve also been guilty of pursuing Science.” At this, there were gasps. “Yes,” she said, making her voice small. “When I was a child in school I loved Science, and I told my parents that one day I wanted to study genetics.”
Another round of gasps. Yeah, she thought. Heaven forbid. She worked her way through her other handful of confessions: trying Moonshine (one thing she hadn’t actually done), marrying a Christian of another denomination (sort of true), and finally…
“I didn’t appreciate my parents enough when I had them.” To her surprise, hot tears filled her eyes. Memories rushed through her in a torrent: her mother’s loving groans at her jokes, her father’s astronomy lessons, the way her parents danced in the living room to the oldest of old songs. She choked. “…I didn’t appreciate them enough and now they’re gone.”
She looked out over the crowd as the tears streamed down her cheeks and saw the glimmer of tears reflected in many eyes. Carter stepped up with a smile that Fi supposed was meant to be reassuring, but somehow came off predatory, like the crocodile sizing up the unsuspecting gazelle.
“As you know,” he explained, “Marie�
�s blood ritual is scheduled for a later date. I think she’s shared her true confessions with us today. What say you, Truthers?”
The room erupted in a roar of “Ayes,” and Fi was suddenly surrounded by a swarm of Truthers, all wanting to touch her, to shake her hand, to hug her. It was madness. From her perch on the milk crate, she stood above the swirl like a boulder in an eddy. And like the boulder, she was made of stone, still and unyielding. It hurt to give them this…this one true feeling that broke her heart. It was something she’d come up with when she and Sara were brainstorming, but she hadn’t thought it would make her cry. Not in front of them.
Nona stepped in with Luke, helping her down from the crate. “That was beautiful, Marie,” she said, wiping at her eyes as she handed back Luke.
This was why, Fi thought, clutching her son to her chest. Yes, she’d given away a real part of her heart. But she’d had to. She had to make it real. She had to make them pity her. She had to make them love her.
Sara pushed to her side and wrapped her arms around both Fi and Luke. “Amazing, ‘Marie,’” she whispered. “You did great.”
“You too,” Fi murmured, kissing Sara’s cheek. “How’s your hand?”
“Stings like a mothershucker.” This was the barest of whispers. She glanced to her left and then coughed and pulled away. “But I think we may have stolen someone else’s thunder.” There was a new lilt in her voice, a teasing sing-song. Confused, Fi followed her gaze to the Rooney twins, who were glaring at them, their faces the same shade of furious crimson, their arms folded across their flat chests just exactly the same, right over left. “Tweedledee and Tweedledum seem awfully pissed.”
Fi clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. Poor Mary and Megan. They were both standing to the side as Truthers literally pushed each other to get to Sara and Fi. “We’re just the flavor of the month, Sar,” she giggled. All the while, she and Sara were repeating “Thank you” and “Truth be with you,” to those congratulating them.
Carter jumped onto the crate. “Easy, Truthers! Everyone will get a chance to meet Sara and Marie. Now it’s time for us all to get back to our duties,” he added.
There was a disappointed groan, but the crowd finally began to thin. One of the Lobos who Fi knew worked in the watchtowers pushed forward. He was short and squat with a pockmarked face and haphazard teeth.
“Congratulations,” he said, his tone more sneer than salutation. “By the way, Sara…” He cocked an eyebrow. “…that was some interesting stuff you shared.”
“Back off, Mouth.” Silas appeared, steering him away by the elbow. “Get back to your post.”
Surprised, Fi thanked him before she even thought about it.
“Don’t thank me, Marie,” Silas scowled. “Far as I’m concerned, you still ain’t one of us.”
Reckless
------------- Fi ------------
Fi hovered over the tangle of blankets that made up her shared bed with Sara. Her friend’s light snores assured her that she was deep asleep. Holding her breath, she worked the Mountain Dew bottle from Sara’s fingers. When she woke, she’d be livid, Fi knew. But she couldn’t help herself. Even though she’d agreed to let Sara take the risk of this mission, she just couldn’t. Maybe it was the lifeline to Asher that drew her. Maybe it was because she still felt like she was in charge, even though Sara was there to protect Luke…and her.
When they’d discussed it earlier that evening, Sara had been adamant. “You can’t! Asher would kill you…if you didn’t get caught and killed first.”
She was right. Fi knew that. But still she’d argued that a fussy baby made the best excuse for a late-night outing. In the end, Fi had feigned acquiescence and assured Sara that she would let her deliver the message in a bottle. It was the only way that she could get Sara to relax enough to sleep.
“Be right back,” she murmured as she slipped out the door. The moment she stepped outside, the adrenaline hit her, rushing through her limbs like an old friend. She shivered and adjusted Luke’s carrier. Fortunately, he was as dead asleep as Sara, or the whole thing would be for nothing.
The night air was so frigid that she could feel her breath crystallize on her scarf the moment it left her lips. The thought of the colonists huddled together for warmth in their prison made her sick. Her rage bubbled up, swirling to join the adrenaline in her blood’s most familiar cocktail. It steeled her.
She walked with care as her eyes adjusted. Weak moonlight sifted over the land like dust, glimmering along edges: an inch of boulder here, a yard of clearing there. She made her way west, skirting the Lobos guarding the cliff on her way to her planned drop point. Every cracking twig made her stop, her breath wheezing through gritted teeth. Still, the only sounds were the rushing river and a few lonely night birds. She picked her way to the cliff’s edge, glancing upstream. Nothing stirred. At her chest, Luke snored lightly. Perfect.
She drew the soda bottle from Luke’s sling and opened it. She crouched carefully and gathered pebbles from the broken rock along the cliff. Her fingers ached with the cold as she tried to thread the pebbles into the bottle. A few slipped from her fingertips, clattering and bouncing down the cliff face. Crap, she thought, her head swiveling. Just go!
She tried again and this time a handful of the pebbles slid into the bottle and nestled against her rolled up message. She hoped it was enough to make sure it would get downstream. Her hands shook harder, imagining what would happen if the Lobos saw the bottle first. She resealed it, stepped back, and chucked it with all her might over the river.
She was listening for the splash when a branch snapped behind her. She leapt behind a tree and reached for the tab on her skirt, her free hand clutching at Luke. Please don’t make a sound, she prayed. Please, Luke. Please, not now! Despite her silent begging, Luke stirred…and then sneezed.
“Marie!” Silas’ form melted from the darkness. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
Her heart leapt into her throat. Not Silas… The inky night did nothing to hide the wink of moonlight off Silas’ ever-present AK-47. Her free arm tightened around Luke, but all she could truly feel was the fabric tab pinched between her fingertips. She scrambled to remember her cover story. “Uh…it’s Luke. He um…he wouldn’t settle, and I didn’t want to wake Nona’s whole family. She’s done enough for us already, sir.”
“Sir? Well, aren’t you the polite little mouse.” Silas circled her, his teeth gleaming as his lips curled. “Yeeeeeeeesssss. A polite little mouse….”
Every fiber of her being was tuned to the guns…his…hers. She was dying to rip her skirt away and draw, but she was frozen. She couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t risk Luke. But something is definitely wrong with Silas, she thought, torn. He’s acting weird and we’re all alone. I can’t risk that either! Her fingers clenched and flexed with indecision. Luke stirred again and whined. She backed away from Silas. “Sir, please. You’re scaring him.”
“Am I?” Silas’ leer widened. “Are you sure he’s the one that’s scared?”
Fi grabbed the tab.
“Waaaaaaaaahhhh!” Luke’s wail ripped the night air and Silas leapt back. Seizing the opportunity, Fi fled back toward Nona’s.
“I’m watching you, little mouse!” Silas called. His laughter chased her through the forest, snapping at her heels.
On the second turn in the path, she tripped and nearly fell into Sara, who caught her. “Run, Sara!” She grabbed Sara’s hand and dragged her, still pumping her legs, putting Silas’ words behind her as fast as she could.
“What happened, Fi?”
“Just run!”
The two pelted through the dark to Nona’s. Fi shushed Luke frantically as they slipped into their room. She collapsed to the floor and started to sob silently, rocking her fussing son in her tight embrace. What was she doing? What if Silas had raised the alarm? Or worse, what if he’d attacked? What if she hadn’t been able to reach her .22? The terrible questions piled up in her
chest like stones, squeezing the air from every corner of her body. Each breath grew harder to draw, the air whistling through her tight throat.
Sara grabbed her face. “Fi, calm down!” she whispered. “It’s ok. We’re safe! Please, you have to breathe!”
“No, no, Sara,” she gasped. “I can’t…do this! What…am I doing? What…if something…happens to Luke? I can’t! Why…am I doing this?” Her whispers came between gulps of air as she struggled to gain control. Sara was right. They were safe. And she had to be quiet for them to stay that way! She sucked deep breaths and fought back her tears.
“Jesus, Fi. I should wring your freaking neck for sneaking out on me like that.” Sara collapsed beside her. “Asher was right. You’re reckless.”
Fi sniffed, still working to take deep breaths. “What? When did he say that?”
“You mean besides all the time?”
Fi managed a wan smile.
“He pulled me aside the night before we went undercover. I remember being surprised because he always says you’re reckless. But you are reckless. So am I. It’s part of our bond.”
“Sisters in stupidity,” Fi muttered.
“C’mon, if anyone can understand it’s me. Ash was just worried that you were feeling especially stressed now with Kiara kidnapped. He said he didn’t know what you would do, but that I had to watch you like a hawk because you weren’t going to stop yourself.”
“Shit,” Fi sighed. “That’s pretty…real of him.” Now that the panic was leaving her, the familiar exhaustion was taking its place. Her legs felt like they were made of air, they were so weak.
Sara slid her arm around Fi’s shoulder. “Look, it turned out ok this time, right? You gave Silas the cover story…fussy baby wakes household…”
Fi nodded to the now content Luke at her breast. “Yeah, but do you think he bought it? I don’t like the way he always seems suspicious of us. I was sure I blew it.”
Emergence (Eden's Root Trilogy Book 3) Page 20
