by Natale Ghent
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.
She fiddled with her glass. “That’s because I’ve never been here before.”
He smirked. “That’s a surprise. You don’t look like a Guide.”
An elvish-type character stepped up to the bar, ordered a drink and returned to the crowd.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Your EP—it’s different.”
She contemplated the blue liquid in her glass, hiding the fact that she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. He leaned closer.
“Your energetic print, in case you were wondering.”
Skylark threw back her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Smacking her glass down on the counter, she ordered another. He took this as an invitation and claimed the seat next to her, ordering two more drinks. She stole a glimpse of him. Was his energetic body bleeding around his human form? Or were her eyes playing tricks on her? She looked at her glass. It was empty again. And there was another drink waiting. How many had she had?
He held his hand out. “My name’s Kenji.”
She stared at his hand for a moment, then shook it. She still couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes. “Skylark.”
“Seriously?” He held her hand, his energy pulsing up her arm. “Pleased to meet you, Skylark.”
“Hey, what are you doing?” She pulled away. “Keep your vibrations to yourself.”
“It isn’t usual to see your kind in here,” he said. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like you before.”
She pressed her scarred arm against her side. “Is that right?”
He leaned closer. She could feel the energy snapping off him.
“So … why are you here?” he asked.
She turned at last to engage him and was surprised to see her reflection in his glasses. She’d almost forgotten she’d changed herself. “I don’t even know where here is,” she said.
He smiled. She planted her elbow on the bar, resting her head in her hand. She felt deliciously relaxed.
“You have very nice teeth.”
He laughed. She let her guard down.
“What’s it like being a Guide?”
He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his drink. “Complicated. Like people.”
“Is that why you all look so different?”
“Nah. Guides just like to have fun. Actually, Guides are kinda weird … As a matter of fact, people are weird.”
“I like people,” Skylark said. “They’re interesting. Spectrals all look the same except for their colour … and their totems. They’re so … boring.”
“What about you? You don’t look like a Spectral.”
She avoided the question. The blue liquid was making her feel bold. “Do you always get to hang out and have fun?”
“Pleasure is our principle,” Kenji said. “The soul’s purpose is to be happy.”
Skylark scoffed. “I don’t believe that.”
“Why not?”
She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Because I don’t feel happy. Ever since I got here it’s been nothing but rules.”
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
She dismissed him with a wave. “I wish I were a Guide.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. Guides aren’t really good for much. Nobody listens to them. Nobody sees them. And when they do make an effort and appear, people spend half the time convincing themselves that what they saw was nothing out of the ordinary. Why do you think they’re all here drinking and hanging out?”
“Well, you seem to fit right in.”
He burst out laughing. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.”
She smiled. It was so good to talk to someone.
He placed his drink on the bar. “I think you should come meet some of my friends.”
“Really?” She’d answered a little too eagerly. So uncool. She straightened her face. “Where are your friends? And why should I meet them?”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get outta here. You can see for yourself.”
HUNTED
The shadows of the trees stirred, and the Company men appeared, their grey suits illuminated in the gathering light. “Run!” Poe said. He took Caddy’s hand, pulling her forward as she ran to keep up with him.
In the distance, several stars on the horizon quavered. They grew brighter, multiplied and broke into a convoy of headlights. In the opposite direction, another set of lights appeared. Caddy pointed to the road.
“Someone’s coming!”
When they reached the house, Poe dropped her hand, dashed down the stairs and crashed the cellar door open. There were shouts, cries of terror. The Dreamers poured from the building like mice unearthed by a fox in the snow. The first truck arrived, careening up the lane in a cloud of dust. Caddy stood paralyzed, the Dreamers racing past her. The girl from earlier ran up and grabbed her hand.
“The bus is here,” she said. “Across the field—run!”
Caddy spun on her heels and the two girls ran. The soil in the field was heavy and deep. Their legs jarred in ruts and their feet caught on clumps of dirt.
The trucks roared to a stop by the house. The Company men swarmed out, knives glinting. They singled out the weaker people, culling them from the group as they went.
“Don’t look back,” the girl said.
Caddy turned and saw the flash of a blade. A woman screamed and fell, tackled to the ground. The Company man’s knife gleamed and arced, swung and struck, and the woman’s blood sprayed in a crimson plume against the morning sky.
“Keep going!” the girl yelled.
They passed the man who’d taken Caddy’s bowl in the cellar. He reached for her, their eyes locking for a lightning count before his face twisted and he stumbled, the air punching from his lungs. A Company man caught him and went to work. Caddy screamed as another grabbed her jacket, pulling her off her feet and tearing her away from the girl. The girl bolted to the right. The Company man rushed in, knife raised. Caddy covered her face. There was a guttural shout and the man fell beside her. She rolled out of the way and saw Poe, kicking the man repeatedly in the face and chest. “Get up!” he told her. “Run for the bus!”
Feet flying, Caddy trained her eyes on the road. The first Dreamers had reached the fence. They sprang over the wire and helped those behind them. Several jumped onto the bus. A woman took up position at the front doors, another at the back. Caddy hit the fence, falling against it. It dipped wildly, nearly throwing her to the ground. Two men grabbed her and hoisted her up and over by her arms. She touched down and was pushed toward the bus. More hands lifted her onto the vehicle. She tumbled in, collapsing into the first free seat she found. The driver revved the engine.
The last of the Dreamers—a man and two women—cleared the fence, Company men on their heels. The bus driver hollered and the emergency doors slammed shut. The two women clambered through the front door. Reaching for the stairs, the man tripped and the Company men fell on him like dogs. Their knives danced as the bus pulled away, the man’s cries filling the air. No one looked back. No one witnessed the slaughter. The Dreamers stared straight ahead as though nothing was happening, their bodies jostling with the movements of the bus. Caddy covered her ears, blocking out the screams. She couldn’t fathom the fate of the man and the others left in the field. Was Poe one of them? Or the girl? She hadn’t seen either of them get on the bus.
Whipping around in her seat, Caddy searched for their faces. With great relief, she found the girl sitting halfway down the bus, head lowered. Poe was at the back, distant, absorbed. The bus swayed, dipping dangerously close to the ditch. It righted itself and lurched forward, the driver turning off the headlights as they roared down the road. Caddy grabbed the seat in front of her, her shoulders bumping those of the woman next to her. Moments later, the Company trucks could be seen, leaving the lane in a reckless
convoy. The bus accelerated, bucking and rocking over the gravel. They took a hard turn onto a side road and then another, the driver hitting the gas once they rounded the corner.
Someone on the bus was moaning. A man stood, steadied himself, and walked along the aisle, searching for the source. There was shuffling and lowered voices, and the moans eventually stopped. Caddy checked the road. The trucks were no longer behind them. Had they outrun the Company men? She caught a glimpse of her sneakers. Red marks stained the fabric. Was that blood? Her hands started to shake, worse than ever, and the puncture wounds were open again and raw. What would Poe think of her now? She couldn’t even save herself, let alone anyone else. Had he really meant what he’d said when he told her that she had given him hope? She hardly knew him. How could she trust a word he said? One thing was certain: if it hadn’t been for him, she’d be dead in the field with the others.
Caddy dropped her hands in her lap and stared vacantly ahead like the rest, too horrified even to cry. Was this how her father had met his end? She couldn’t bear to think about it, couldn’t stand the idea of him dying in such an awful way. She chased the images of the knives and the blood from her mind, the shouting and screaming. They returned, relentless.
The bus bumped and rolled along the road. Eventually, the fields gave way to trees, the land slowly revealing itself with the rising sun. The driver relaxed, slowing to a less dangerous speed. Were they out of harm’s way? A couple of people opened windows, letting the air in. It felt cool and sweet. Caddy looked at the woman beside her. She was asleep, mouth open, her head bobbling against the window with the movement of the bus. She was thin—fifty, maybe—her grey hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. How could she possibly sleep? So many of the Dreamers were sleeping. Poe wasn’t, though. He was looking out the window. Caddy wanted to go to him and thank him. She wanted to sit beside him and stay close because that’s the only way she would feel safe.
The bus ground its gears, pulling into a narrow lane. They rumbled through the trees to a small clearing in the woods and stopped. The Dreamers sat up and looked around. Eyes ringed with exhaustion, the driver stood and cleared his throat.
“This is where you disembark.” He pointed to a man at the front. “He’ll take you to the new location.”
Caddy left the bus and lingered on the edge of the group, doing a head count while she waited for Poe. There were twenty-eight people remaining, including herself. Sixteen men and twelve women. They must have lost at least a dozen in the field.
As soon as Poe appeared she moved next to him. She didn’t want to lose sight of him again. The man in charge raised his hand to make an announcement.
“We have a long hike ahead of us,” he said, and without further discussion, walked into the woods.
The Dreamers followed obediently, snaking in a line through the trees. The forest was cool and moist. The soil was spongy with green moss. Caddy swatted at the mosquitoes that whined in undulating clouds. Several deer flies orbited her head. She was so hungry. She pressed her hand against her stomach to stop the noise.
“There will be food when we get there,” Poe said.
It was a relief to hear his voice. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“No. Only the leader knows.”
“Is he always the leader?”
“We take turns. That way no one is a direct target. We keep knowledge to a minimum to prevent disclosure.”
“You mean, in case we get caught?” she said.
“Yes.”
Caddy thought about this. “The people back at the field … they weren’t asked any questions. They were just … killed.”
“We can’t take any chances.”
The line suddenly stopped. Someone had fallen. They waited while the woman was helped to her feet.
“Have you seen many people die?” Caddy asked.
Poe clenched his jaw. “This was my first experience,” he confessed.
She looked at him in surprise. He spoke with such authority, she had just assumed he’d seen it before.
“I’ve never travelled with the Dreamers like this,” he said. “I waited before I made the decision to really commit. But after Meg …” His voice trailed off.
“And how do you feel now?”
“If you’re asking if I’ve changed my mind, I haven’t.”
“Even if people are being murdered right in front of you?”
“Especially then. Things have shifted for the worse. The Company is attacking with greater frequency. Now more than ever we need to stand together against the Dark.”
“I’m not sure I could ever get used to seeing people murdered,” Caddy said.
“We never get used to it.”
“Then why has no one said anything about the ones who were killed? Everyone’s acting like nothing happened. Do we even know how many people died back there?”
He spoke to her as though she was a child. “I know it’s hard to understand, Cadence, but we do what we have to. It’s important that we don’t become overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed? Why hasn’t anyone called the police?”
He laughed derisively. “The police won’t help us. They’re part of the problem. The Company infiltrated them long ago. They’re everywhere—governments, institutions—anywhere they can have the most control.”
“Why don’t the Dreamers fight back, then? Why does everyone just run away? Can’t you arm yourselves? Can’t you prepare?”
He smiled. It made her feel so naïve.
“Ours is the way of peace, Cadence. Thou shalt not kill. It is our most sacred covenant, strictly enforced. The sin of the one is the sin of the many. If we fight, if we take up arms, we’re no better than them. You can’t create peace through violence. You can’t fight the Dark with more darkness.”
It sounded so rote, like he was delivering lines. She turned it around on him. “You fought back.”
His face hardened. “I shouldn’t have done it—for so many reasons. We don’t engage them. It just gives the Dark more opportunities. And that puts everyone at risk.” Then he dropped the rhetoric, his mood softening. “It was stupid,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Caddy was taken by his honesty. She placed her hand on his arm. “If you hadn’t done it, I’d be dead in that field. I’m indebted to you.”
The line moved again. They walked in silence until she spoke.
“Are there other groups of Dreamers?”
Poe sighed. “There used to be. The Company men killed some and scattered the others. Hex has been gathering those who are left to keep us strong.”
Caddy looked at the weary group trudging through the woods. How could Poe feel anything but despair? There seemed to be endless numbers of Company men and so few Dreamers. Surely they hadn’t a chance against such odds. Why didn’t the Company shoot all the Dreamers and be done with it? “Why do the men use knives?” she asked.
“You mean, why don’t they use guns?”
“Yes.”
“Knives are quieter. Guns draw too much attention. That would put them at a disadvantage.”
It made sense. “Maybe that’s why the One-Armed Bandit uses a knife,” she said.
Poe gave her a funny look. “One-Armed Bandit?”
“It’s what the paper’s calling him—the guy who killed those people … the ones with the missing arms.”
Poe smiled to himself. Obviously she’d said something that amused him.
“There is no One-Armed Bandit, Cadence.”
“I read it in the paper …”
“It’s the Company men. They left bodies where they knew they would be found. It was a threat to anyone who would bear the mark. They know we’re recruiting so they’re trying to dissuade those who would join the Dreamers by chopping off the left arm of their victims where the mark would be. The media created the whole One-Armed Bandit thing. It’s a catchy name and I’m sure it’s selling lots of papers. They haven’t got a clue who the real perp
etrators are.”
“Oh.” She felt stupid for mentioning it.
“The threat is real,” he said. “The Company uses the paper to do their work because they know the Dreamers eschew technology to limit detection.”
It would certainly explain her father’s bizarre devotion to the newspaper. She was learning more about her own life every minute. “My father reads the paper. I thought he was being old-fashioned.”
Poe smiled again, though this time he wasn’t making fun of her. “Mine too. They read it for information. It’s one of our communication streams, a way to send hidden messages. We post fake ads. You have to know what to look for, like clues. We don’t do it very often because we don’t want the Company to figure it out. They know we read the paper and sometimes they use it to spread fear.”
“Do they always take the arms of the Dreamers they kill?”
“No one knows. They don’t normally leave the bodies.”
The idea was gruesome, either way. Caddy looked at her sneakers. The blood had dried to a dark patch. You couldn’t really tell what it was, but she would never forget how it got there. If she didn’t need her shoes she would kick them off and leave them in the woods.
The path took an upward turn, curving through the trees. She was so tired. And her legs ached. But how could she complain? Most of the Dreamers were more than twice her age and they seemed to be managing okay. She looked for the girl. She was ten people ahead, marching with her head down. Caddy wished she could speak to her. Maybe later, she thought. She was wondering if they would stop soon when the leader announced they’d reached their destination.
The log cabin squatted in a clearing among the trees. It had one small window beside a door pieced together from boards of various widths. The cabin was rustic and low, a strange mushroom, with a mossy roof and a tilted stone chimney. It looked damp and dark. Still, it had to be better than the cellar they’d occupied the night before.
