by Coralee June
He had Dominique's frown and…
He had Josiah's eyes.
Linda Stonewell gasped, and I turned to see my broken Ex-Holder crumbling from the all encompassing grief.
"How much longer do we have?" Huxley asked while looking out the door, scanning the sand for more people.
"The barrier opens in three minutes, if we cut it too close, we risk..." Kemper looked to me.
"Where are the others?" I asked. Someone called to us from outside the transport, and I shuffled to get a better look. How did they get Jules out of the lab? Did the cure work? After a few moments, Patrick leaped into the transport just before Kemper shut the door, and we jetted forward. I fell off the leather seat, into Linda's lap, and she pushed me away.
"Don't touch me, you bitch!" she screamed.
My head rocked with pain as I looked around. Where were Jules, Jacob, Cyler, Allaire and Maverick?
My wrist began to burn and my muscles twitched.
"Shit, we won't be out before the barrier kicks up. It’s going to shock her," Kemper said.
"Keep going, she can handle it. You disabled the poison function?" Huxley asked.
"I blocked the poison function, but didn’t have time to mess with the electrocution. Hux, I don't know if she can handle it. It's borderline lethal. No one has ever survived the pain."
"She can handle it," Huxley assured us. I watched their back and forth without connecting that it was me they were talking about.
"And if she can't?" Patrick asked. I felt someone grip my hand. The little boy. I looked to his wrist. There was no fetter. Was he not a Walker?
"What about Maverick and Jules?" I asked, while wading through my muddy, confused thoughts. Weren't we linked? Where were they?
I grabbed my forehead and bent over as the little boy leaned closer to me.
"If you can deal, they can. Jules probably won't even feel..." Huxley broke off his statement before finishing then began rustling with his shirt. I didn't have time to question him more, because the pain started.
When I explored the boundary, it was merely a dull ache compared to the ripping feeling my tendons experienced now. I let out a scream. It felt like someone poured lighter fluid over my skin and dropped a match in my belly. This was worse than when Cavil tortured me in his ivory room. This was lightning. Burning and striking me. This pain devoured.
I met my threshold of pain, and at the point right between freedom and excruciating anguish, there was a brief flash of a familiar smile and a bright light of comforting peace. Maybe the night had finally taken its toll on me, the pain, trauma and injuries. But in that moment, I saw Josiah. He looked like the boy from my childhood, then he was gone. The only sound I heard was Linda Stonewell's laughter at my pain as the empire went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
" Josiah!" I called out playfully as he tackled me to the ground. We'd been playing tag all afternoon while Mistress Stonewell was away at tea. He tickled me mercilessly until tears filled my eyes.
"Princesses don't cry," he giggled before running off towards the bright sunshine.
The room I woke up in was strangely decorated. It smelled of smoke, and the bed was stiff. I wiggled my toes, testing my muscle soreness, but no feeling came.
"You won't feel anything for a few more hours. I made sure to keep up the dosage so your body could recover," a gravelly voice said. I turned my neck, the movement making my brain feel heavy. My vision cleared, and a woman with long white hair came into focus. She was older, but had a youthful smile.
"I'm happy to see that you're okay. Let me get the others, they've been anxious to speak to you."
She escaped through a tent flap, and within seconds, Patrick entered. His facial hair had grown-in some, and his shirt was covered in dust .
"Oh, sweetie, you have no idea how happy I am to see those gorgeous hazel eyes of yours," he said while kneeling beside the low bed, close to me.
"What happened?" I asked. My voice was deep from tiredness.
Patrick's face turned to a mask of steel emotions as Kemper and Huxley entered the tent. I watched as they both exhaled in relief, then quickly jumped to join Patrick on the floor beside me.
"Where is Cyler? Maverick? Jacob?" I asked as tears filled my eyes. Some small part of me knew where they were. Would I ever not feel worry or sadness? Would we ever be together again?
I looked between the three of them; half of my heart was in this room, and the other half was unaccounted for. Patrick pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to me.
"Cyler wanted me to give you this, Ash." I let out a harsh cry as I grabbed it. I lay in bed, holding the paper over my head as I unfolded it. My arms felt like noodles, and twice my hands fell to my chest, as if too weak to hold them up. I cursed my body. Kemper gently took the paper from my hands before reading the note aloud to me.
Babe,
A better man wouldn't tell you this in a note, but I've never been good. Maybe that’s why I fell so hard for you—to the world I was an imposter. A shitty leader in a forgotten province. But I saw my potential in your gaze, and I think I'll miss that most.
I've never been a good brother. Never been a good son. One day, if I'm lucky enough to see your smile again, I'll tell you about it. But I couldn't leave Jules in Ethros. She was too sick to move, and I had to do this one thing for her. I know that if anyone understands, it’s you. I'm so sorry, Babe.
Fuck, I wanted to love you forever. Maybe I'm a fool, but I already knew how I wanted to propose to you. I would have gladly gotten down on one knee in the treehouse my father built, then given you a lifetime of love. And I'm so sorry I can't do that for you now. Everything feels so uncertain, but one thing is for sure. You're going to be okay. I feel it in my gut. And it’s the only solace I have when I think about the future I gave up when deciding to stay.
Maverick says we'll get out of this. He's convinced he'll save Jules and find our way back to you. But I'm not so optimistic. So I'm writing this to let you know that our connection will always tether my heart to yours. Please honor me by living your life. Love deeply, Babe. You deserve it.
-Cyler
I let out a slow exhale as I realized what this meant. "They're gone? Did Jacob or Maverick say anything?" I asked as the tears freely flowed down my cheeks. How could this happen?
"Jacob was with me, we got separated," Patrick answered. He grabbed my hand and squeezed, but there was a delay in my brain being able to feel it.
"Where are we? What is wrong with my body? I can't feel anything."
"We're in the deadlands. You were in a lot of pain. The woman here said she could help you..." Huxley explained.
"The deadlands?" I asked incredulously. That meant we were at least three days from Ethros. Three days from Cyler, Maverick, Jules and Jacob. There was still a numb pain in my head, something dull but dark. It wanted out. It wanted to make its presence known.
"Sweetie," Kemper began while looking between Hux and Patrick. "Do you remember what else happened?" For a moment I just gave them a blank stare, unsure of what to think or say. There was something important on the tip of my tongue. Something I knew would break me .
"Josiah," I finally cried out. His name was like a damn breaking. The numb barriers I built up while asleep broke, and all that was left was pain.
“I was prepared for his death, I wasn’t prepared for him to die saving me,” I sobbed. “He really did love me.”
Kemper grabbed my hand and squeezed, but the supportive gesture was hollow because my body couldn’t quite feel it.
“Linda?” I asked.
Huxley shuddered. Never before had I seen him so...bothered. “That woman is a right piece of work. One of the Scavengers put a sedative in her soup last night so we could all have a fucking break. How did you ever live with her?!”
Linda was mourning her son and lover. I didn’t want to imagine the sort of chaos she had been causing while I was recovering.
Just then, I thought about
the last time I saw them all, just before Cavil’s party. “Tell me, Kemper. Were you always planning on leaving Cyler and Mav behind? When we left, did you know it would be the last time I saw them?”
Kemper avoided my gaze as more tears tumbled out of my eyes.
It was Huxley who responded.
“Yeah. And you can hate us later. But you’re okay, and that’s all that matters.” Huxley’s words were straightforward and unashamed. He was completely calm in the decision they made.
I opened my mouth to fight. They allowed me to leave without saying goodbye. It hurt to know that I wasn’t allowed to choose my own fate. I would have stayed.
I was livid. These men chose for me, and all that was left of my relationship with Cyler, Maverick, and even Jules was a letter laced with regret. Before I could voice the frustrations building up within me, a timid voice broke the tension, "Is she awake?"
I turned to look at the little boy entering my room. He looked like the Josiah I knew, but it wasn't him. It was the boy from the transport.
"Hello," I greeted while wiping my tears. "What's your name?" I asked while trying to force my voice to sound sweet. Snot rolled down my face, and I assumed that the young boy would be scared off by my splotchy face.
"Payne," he replied. "Momma said you'd take care of me."
My eyebrows shot up as I looked around at the guys. They each avoided my gaze. "And who is your Momma, Payne?" I asked. The blond boy jutted out his lip before sucking in a breath, as if forcing his emotions down. I wondered if it was something he did regularly.
“He’s Dominique’s boy,” Patrick explained.
Payne ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick that reminded me of…
Josiah.
Payne was Josiah’s half brother.
He walked closer to me, and there was a casual playfulness about his walk that reminded me of Lackley.
“We went to the signal station, and she told me to stay with that man,” Payne said while pointing at Kemper. “She said the lady with crazy hair like a lion was nice. I promised to stay with you, like a big boy. Then she went to go get you, but she never came back. Do you know where my momma is?”
I looked to Kemper who lightly shook his head. “She cut the lights. She saved you,” he whispered as Payne distractedly climbed up into bed and settled beside me.
It was strange seeing how comfortable he was with a complete stranger. Was he so starved for love that he’d take it wherever he could? I could identify with that.
I stroked Payne’s hair, the blond locks so similar to Josiah’s that my heart broke.
“I told her I wasn’t leaving without you,” Kemper mumbled.
We all sat there for a moment, digesting everything that had happened. Cyler, Maverick, Jacob, and a dying Jules were stuck in Ethros. Dominique saved me, to save her son. We were in the deadlands, with no way to communicate with them. And Cavil was a madman likely to now take complete control of the empire .
“Are you going to save Momma?” Payne finally asked. I looked down and saw his lip tremble. I knew better than to make promises I couldn’t keep. The reality of our situation was too intense for a simple yes or no.
“I’ll try.”
Revenge of the Walker
Chapter One
"We can't keep doing this, Ashleigh," Huxley said with a groan. I trailed my eyes down his muscular chest as sweat dripped down his abs. "It's not fair to the others. You can't ignore them all day then spend your nights with me."
There was a small part of me that felt guilty, but I focused on the pain of my sore muscles, dulling my thoughts. I knew that sneaking off to work out my frustrations with Hux wasn't a permanent fix. But there was something freeing about giving in to my anger, if only for a couple hours. My nights with him helped me forget the sadness I felt whenever I thought about Cyler, Maverick, and Jacob. This was the only reprieve I had.
Tonight, at the camp meeting, a team of scouts informed us that Dormas was now completely overrun with Ethros troops. Dormas was the last bit of hope I'd been clinging to. It was my piece of paradise, now tainted by Cavil's reign. Was nothing sacred?
My arms shook with exhaustion and adrenaline. Six hours of fighting with Huxley wasn't enough to calm my nerves. I felt murderous. Channeling my anger into Huxley was the only thing keeping me sane. So, if I had to be selfish about our nights together—so be it.
"Are you going to keep talking? Or are you going to fight?" I challenged, keeping my voice even despite the exhaustion I felt.
I raised my fists up to a ready position, my curled hand blocking my jaw but giving me a clear view of Hux. It took a while to get used to the fighter's stance. Two weeks to get the shape of my fist down. Three weeks to remember to protect my face. Four weeks to build up my strength so my punches actually meant something.
It did, however, only take a day to learn how to kick Huxley in the balls. That lesson was almost instinctual.
I stared at Huxley's expression, expecting to see his plump lip quirk up like it usually did when I got like this. He liked to see the fight in me. He liked to push my buttons and make me work for the hit. It made my pulse thump to see his bright eyes hooded with desire as I landed punch after punch. But tonight, he gave me a grimace.
"When you first asked me to help you, I thought it meant that you were finally working through your grief—"
"Don't say grief. Grief is for people who’ve lost something. They're not lost," I choked out with a jab that connected with his side. He didn't flinch, though I wanted to shake my fist out. Technically, I was grieving. Losing Josiah had affected me in ways I still couldn't come to terms with. I'd expected it, almost. I'd prepared myself for his loss.
But what I hadn't expected was for him to die saving me. I hadn't expected the guilt. I hadn't expected to doubt everything I knew. Most of my free time was spent analyzing what happened. I had gone from falling in love with the boy I knew to hating the man he'd become, then grieving the stranger that died for me.
"You have lost something," Huxley said, interrupting my thoughts. He wasn't wrong. I’d lost Cyler, Maverick, Jacob, and Jules. Although the news reports had briefly mentioned Cyler, there was no news on Jacob. Since he and Patrick separated in Ethros, we’d been staring down the dark pit of the unknown, and it infuriated me.
"I entertained these nights together because I thought it would help, but you’re not..."
"What? I’m not what, Huxley?"
"You’re not healing." He dropped his hands to his side. I didn't want to see his defeated stance. Why did he have to make this harder than it was? I needed this.
How was I supposed to heal? There were still so many unanswered questions. Josiah’s death was devastating enough, but knowing I didn't have my guys to help me navigate my grief was just too much.
"I don't know how," I replied, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm so angry, Huxley." I pushed thoughts of Josiah from my mind. I didn't love him. But I did. I missed him. But I didn't. I hated him.
I hated him.
When I looked at all the steps that led to this point in my life, it infuriated me. Anger was the only emotion I had left, and I clung to it like it was a weapon. I was angry at Josiah. I was angry at Cyler and Maverick and Jacob. I was angry at Hux. Patrick. Kemper. This empire. And above all, I was angry with a ghost. Emperor Lackley was at the top of my list, and he wasn't even alive to feel my fury.
Spinning around, I made my way over to a tall, white tree where my canteen of water was resting at the base. Unscrewing the top, I chugged the tangy water without flinching. The tainted deadlands’ water tingled down my throat. At first, I had hated the taste of it and had to choke down even a drop. Over time, I'd gotten used to its sharp acidic flavor. It didn't even bother me to bathe in the creek anymore. The burning sensation almost felt soothing on my sore muscles now. Time changed things, I guess.
I'd stopped looking in the mirror a few weeks ago when I saw that, at the very base of my scalp, the strands of my ha
ir were turning white. I’d been here long enough for the deadlands’ water supply to bleach my coarse chestnut hair. Ingesting it was making my new growth turn white.
Five months. It'd been five months since I'd seen Cyler, Jacob, and Maverick. Five months of living in the deadlands with a Scavenger camp on the outskirts of the empire. Five months of hearing the reports filter in from the scouts.
One by one, Cavil claimed the people of Dasos. The death toll was insurmountable. His rise to power, unprecedented. Without Emperor Lackley and Josiah, there was no one powerful enough to stop him. No one brave enough to try. He had the weapons, the influence, and now the rejection cure. Lackley was an amateur in comparison.
Maverick managed to fix the rejection phenomenon—at the expense of the cure. Maverick and Allaire’s vaccine made the cure for influenza X impotent and obsolete. Everyone was now susceptible. But many considered this the lesser of two evils: most could avoid exposure to X but couldn't avoid the internal ticking time bomb of the cure. However, Cavil demanded submission in exchange for the rejection cure. Members of the Elite now donned fetters and spent their days hiding in their manors to avoid exposure to X.
Since our escape, Huxley treated me like a wounded animal. He used to stroll up to me with confidence, claiming the parts of my heart and body like they were his for the taking. It killed me to see him have so much pity in his gaze. I hated the pity. Pity was a wasted emotion, it did nothing but accentuate a person’s suffering and enable self-loathing. It's one of the reasons I enjoyed our nights sparring. Here, in the shadows of my anger, Huxley looked at me with that half smirk, half determined scowl I loved so much. But I guess I had to ruin that too. I was ruining everything lately, and they pitied me for it. Just a toxic cycle that made sinking into my emotionless state more appealing.
"Tell me why you want to fight," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a question he’d asked me many times before. They say that before you start a war, you have to know what you’re fighting for. But I was at war with myself. I swallowed, visions of an ivory room and the bloodied face of a guard filling my vision.
