"It's me," a voice whispered. Hazy morning light outlined a familiar, bruised face. Eli's muscles melted in relief. "Been here long?"
"Nah."
Fingers gripped his wrist and a knife was thrust inches from his eye. Eli stared at its edge and the stern, young face behind it. "This is so you know I don't completely trust you yet," the prisoner said.
"Sure, sure." Eli raised his free hand. "I understand. I'm Eli, by the way."
"I know. Everyone knows. I'm Pete," he said in a kind voice.
Though his thin brown hair was beginning to recede, the man looked young: acne scars pitted one cheek and his face was round and soft. Eli studied the swollen purple bruises around his eyes.
"I'm sorry for —"
"How'd you find us?"
Eli recounted the story quickly. Simon's arrival, Ben's death, Lily's disappearance. Tracking them through the woods. The other missing girls. Losing Frank and Jane and finding Lily dead. The map that led him north.
Pete took a steadying breath. "We know so little here. It's all speculation and rumor. But I didn't expect that..."
"I heard Simon tried to join the rebels. That true?"
"Far as I know."
"And?"
"We don't trust him. Assumed he was a spy for Olive. And then there's the small matter of him kidnapping children." Pete's jaw flexed.
"Listen," he said, "I know you want justice for your young friend, but you have to forget it. Olive won't touch Simon."
Eli clenched his fists and nodded. "I know. But why?"
"Seems as though the kidnappers work for someone else. They're outside her control."
"They?"
Pete nodded. "We think there's about five of these kidnappers. They leave for weeks and when they come back, new girls crop up."
"And they're being kept —"
"As far as we know, to pleasure Olive's men," Pete said.
Girls are always victims.
A surge of anger rattled Eli's bones. He took a deep breath and a memory punched through his fury. It was something Simon had said. That wasn't the mission.
"Who do these kidnappers work for?" Eli said.
"I don't know. This ring leader visits every few months, and you know we're not supposed to ask questions."
Eli charged at him, grabbing a fistful of Pete's shirt. "Simon stabbed Lily to death and left her in the woods."
I killed her ... I had no choice. I swear to you.
Pete wrenched himself from Eli's grasp. "I'm sorry."
The milky fog thickened, suspending Eli in a cloud, cut off from the world. Sorry wasn't enough. Lily's pale corpse lay cold and alone in a barren wilderness. Simon wouldn't pay for what he did, and the fact was a knife through Eli's heart. That Simon had vanished since Eli nearly killed him made it worse.
"How many girls are there?" Eli asked.
"No one knows."
"How do you get in?"
"You don't, not without being seen. It's locked up. Only Olive and the doctor have a key," Pete said. "There's a back door, but it's blocked by a walled passageway. That opens into the buffer zone."
"Who were you trying to rescue?"
Pete's face softened. "Her name is Rooney. She arrived three months ago."
Eli felt a spark of electricity in his veins, a swooping drop in his stomach. "Rooney?"
"What?"
"She's from a place called Elsberry, a dozen miles from here. I met her people." Eli added, sadly, "And they're not looking for her."
"I'm not surprised. Who would, with the world the way it is?" Pete shook his head. "It's the perfect crime."
Fear chilled Eli's guts.
"Rooney was the first to speak up. Brave girl." Pete shook his head. "Leaned out that window one night a few weeks ago and dropped me a note. Says the guards treat the place like a brothel. That some of the girls are even drugged until they're catatonic. She never sees the men's faces, and the other girls won't talk. She begged me to rescue her."
Eli clenched his fists against another tide of rage. Pete put a hand on his shoulder.
"This isn't just about the girls. It's about this entire town. You've seen the way she runs it — controlling the food, the water, the forced labor. People think she's benevolent, that she saved those girls, protects them." Pete squeezed Eli shoulder, his voice rising. "If they knew the truth ... That's what this demonstration is for. If they heard it from her, maybe they'd rally behind us. Olive can't fight all of us."
Crickets chirped, an owl hooted, the wind whipped through the trees and rattled branches. The fog settled as a thick gray haze, half-hiding Pete's form in cloud.
"I can help you," Eli said. "I'm close to her. Tell me what to do."
"Kill her," Pete's soft voice hissed. "Everything will fall apart."
The message was hidden within Pete's tone of voice and his probing eyes, burning through the fog. You're the bad guy — you should do it. A stone dropped in his stomach.
"I can't..."
"Why? What's the problem?"
"I ain't alone with her, ever. Guards watch her bedroom door."
But these were mere obstacles and excuses, and Eli knew it. He could kill her.
Pete let out a frustrated breath. "Well, that's how you can help."
"I understand." Eli knew all too well that violence worked, but he had another reason to refuse: he pitied Olive. She was living in a dead world, play-acting a life that didn't exist anymore. She was sick, lost, pathetic. "But killing Olive—"
"What do we have here?" a voice boomed behind them.
Eli spun around. A tall, wide figure strolled out of the shadows. Eli spied the lines of a crossbow and an arrow pointing at his face. Hard eyes flashed at Pete.
"Don't!" Eli sprinted to stand in front of Pete, raising his arms. "Just listen —"
The crossbow flicked to the left. A sound like a whip cracking split the air. The arrow whistled by Eli's ear and thwacked behind him. Eli turned around.
Pete lay on the ground, veiled by the fog, sputtering, the arrow's fletching jutting from his chest.
The guard loaded another arrow. "I knew you were no good."
Eli whipped around. He saw a whiskered face, low eyebrows, brown hair. Then he lunged himself at the thick body. His shoulder rammed into the man's chest and they hit the ground with a hard thud. The crossbow flew from the guard's hands.
Eli straddled him, pinned his arms. Pummeled his kidney, his gut, his jaw. A fist thrust up from the ground and smacked Eli's ear, making his head ring. Another punch sunk into his gut and Eli gasped for breath.
The guard clutched Eli's middle with his legs and jerked him to ground. Eli landed on his back. Then the guard was over him. His fist crunched Eli's cheek. Eli shot up his arm and caught the guard's hand, thumping his other fist into the guard's temple. He tumbled to the ground and lay there dazed, belly up.
Dim sunlight dully traced the edge of a knife, sheathed at the guard's hip. Eli slid it out and wrapped his fingers around the hilt. The guard woke and clenched a fist, ready to strike Eli from the ground. Eli was quicker. He shoved the point into the man's lung. He screamed silently. Eli laid a hand over his mouth, removed the blade, and sliced the blade into his neck.
The man grunted, twitched, and then quieted.
The sun, now fully risen beyond the wall, cast meager light on the foggy scene: the blood pooling beneath the guard's body, the arrow sticking out of Pete's chest, the crossbow lying forgotten on the ground. Eli searched the dark and listened, but heard and saw nothing.
A scream ripped through Eli's throat and he ground his teeth to silence it, squeezing his eyes shut until he saw stars. He wanted to announce to those now waking up that he'd killed another man. To beg someone to punish him for it. The fantasy soothed him. He opened his eyes and there was the oak, its branch stretching to the wall. To freedom.
The blood on his hands gleamed black in the early morning light. He needed to leave this place and walk back to Olive's and look surprised when th
e bodies were found. Olive needed to believe that Pete and this guard killed each other. Eli found a patch of grass and wiped off his hands. He rose from the ground, placed the dagger near Pete's body. He told the dead men he was sorry and left the carnage to be discovered.
A shrill voice screeched through the air like a tornado. He thought it was a Parasite at first, then realized the sound was coming from inside the walls. The voice screamed again, the sound like ice water in his veins.
It was coming from the guest house.
Eli sprinted from his hiding place, through the birch trees and toward a row of buildings, their black outlines smudged by fog. Eli slipped between them and onto the road. He turned left and the road sank into a thin, yellow-tinted haze. Spectral shapes appeared around him, angry voices spouting from phantom mouths, all of them following the disembodied voice screaming from the depths of the fog.
Eli wove between the others as the girl screeched again. Her voice sharpened and words took form.
"Do you know what's going on in here?"
The mob halted, and Eli pushed past them. The guest house gradually took shape, its upper floors cast in hazy yellow sunlight, its lower hidden in fog. A girl leaned out of an upstairs window. She shouted at everyone gathered below. Eli joined them.
She pointed at a knot of guards standing watch at the front door. "They come in here every night and rape us."
The girl stared down at a sea of upturned faces. She was thin, her head topped with a shock of short black hair, her voice shrill as a hissing tea kettle.
Did you see a girl? My age. Really short hair. Big, dark eyes ... She's my best friend.
"Are you going to stand there and let it happen?"
"Go back to where you came from!" someone yelled.
"Uppity bitch," a woman muttered behind Eli.
"Poor thing in her warm bed," mocked a third. Her friend laughed.
The girl clutched the window ledge and sucked in a deep breath. Before the scream erupted from her lips, a hand clutched her arm and yanked her inside. The window was slammed shut.
In the silence, a figure sauntered into an empty space between the house and the crowd. He raised his arms.
"Are you listening now?" the man bellowed. He was older than Eli and had wispy, shoulder-length brown hair.
The crowd hushed, but an angry grumble simmered beneath the sudden calm.
"Are you going to stand there and do nothing as these girls are abused? Should they pay the price for our safety and security?" The man gestured to a row of guards standing watch between the guest house and Olive's mansion. "They can't get away with it."
Eli's attention drifted behind the guards, across the lawn, to Olive's front porch. There she stood, arms crossed and pale face turned to the scene in her yard. Few people saw her; most were staring at the window or the man preaching below it. Olive walked down the steps and her stone walkway, then across her lawn, graceful and calm. This morning, she was bundled in a soft wool coat that stretched to her knees. Her blond hair stirred slightly in the morning breeze.
"Don't be afraid," the man continued. "Join us. A few people can't defeat the tyrants who run this town, but a horde can. Do nothing and you're a tyrant, too."
Olive approached the man with her hands buried in her coat pockets. People began to notice her arrival and murmured fearfully.
"Be quiet, she's coming," whispered someone behind Eli.
"Now you're going to get it," said another.
Olive sauntered in front of the crowd, staring at each face. She stopped a few feet from the girl's supporter. He lowered his arms and gazed at his neighbors with disgusted awe, then slowly faced Olive.
"Do you see what you've become, Olive Grant?" he said calmly. "Or were you always like this?"
Olive's expression didn't change. From the depths of her coat pocket, she drew out a bulky handgun. She aimed it at the man's head. Her face was stony, expressionless, casual. The man glanced at the gun with a smile and a shrug.
"If people like you are going to rule this world, then I don't want to live in it."
"As you wish," Olive said.
Thunder split the stillness. The man fell to the asphalt with a thwack. The gunshot that killed him echoed into the sky, the only sound in the still morning. No one said a word.
Olive aimed her gun with a steady hand and placid expression at several people but didn't fire again. "Anyone have anything else to say? Very good."
She tucked the handgun back in her pocket and yelled something about the rebellion and rumors and punishment. Then she strolled back up her lawn. People began mumbling again, their voices trembling with fear.
The guards hollered orders and bodies floated away from the scene. Eli listened distantly, his gaze glued to the executed man lying in the grass. The bullet had struck him in the center of his forehead; blood trickled from the wound and ran between his open eyes. His features softened, the whiskers faded. The lines of another dead face appeared.
The ground swayed beneath Eli's feet and a cold sweat coated his skin, as if struck with fever. The face staring up at him wasn't real, but a memory, a ghost. And it had followed him all the way to Grant's Hill.
The ghost of the woman he killed three years ago.
Chapter 30
Eli stood in a corner, listening as the women were raped.
Seth and his dozen men took turns, passing thirty women around like toys, but Eli refused to join in. It took two years, but Eli finally found the line he wouldn't cross. He couldn't do that to a woman. To a young girl.
Seth called him queer and impotent and everyone laughed.
Eli stared at the hard tile floor and tried to block out the men's taunts, the women's screams. He was one man against a dozen in Seth's gang. If only Seth hadn't killed the men who lived in the asylum, Eli could've stopped this with their help.
But he had helped herd the men into the basement, and the women into this room. He'd helped Seth get in, knowing what would happen inside.
Seth, Eli, and the others had advanced on the asylum's walls that morning. A man stood on the front steps — tall, broad shouldered, red haired, clean shaven — and told Seth they weren't welcome. His people didn't have enough food to go around and were barely surviving themselves. Eli had never seen Seth look so frightened.
It was late fall. They smelled winter in the air and none of them could endure another season of cold and starvation. They spent that entire day being pelted by freezing rain. They had last eaten two days ago: acorn paste and a skinny rabbit between all thirteen of them. Eli was dizzy with hunger and his muscles ached from shivering.
After the courthouse, Seth promised to never let anyone else turn them away. He was a man of his word.
The red-haired man was the asylum's leader. During that long night, Eli watched the man cower in the opposite corner as three men violated his wife and daughters in the center of the room. Like Eli, this leader, his strong face now meek and frightened, stared at the floor and listened, powerless.
The men took their pleasure all night, pausing only to eat their way through the asylum's food stores. They laughed and joked and began again. The candles burned low. The women cried, trembling with cold and shock and fear. Seth stopped asking Eli to join them.
The sun rose and Seth told his exhausted men the night's fun was over. He sauntered to the center of the room and spread his arms.
"I haven't felt this satisfied and safe in months. It's far better to conquer than to toil, is it not?"
The men cheered. Seth smiled broadly.
"Sadly, one of us has missed out on the fun. Eli deserves a little release, too." Seth pointed to the leader in the corner. "You've committed the worst of all sins, Mr. Percy. You turned your back on your fellow man when he was hungry and desperate and asking politely for mercy and kindness. And that can't be forgiven."
Seth marched to the leader's wife and daughters, who cowered beneath a window. They were all raven-haired and pale, with crisp blue eyes. Seth yanked
them up onto their knees on that cold, hard tile, then lined them up like dolls, shoulder to shoulder. The girls slumped and wept, but their mother stood straight on her knees with her chin held high.
"Let's teach Mr. Percy a lesson." Seth backed away and stared at Eli with that crazed, deadly look he knew so well. "Kill them all."
Eli didn't move. He stared at the tile, at the toes of his boots, at the women's knees pressed against the floor. Seth stomped over and dug the tip of his gun into Eli's temple.
"That's an order."
Eli stared into the identical blue eyes, the girls' red with tears and the mother's boring into his face, searching for kindness and begging for mercy. Eli stared back, his face hot with shame, and then looked away.
He raised the gun. Slipped his finger behind the trigger and focused on the girl's forehead.
"This isn't who you are," the mother told him. "You're a good man. I can see it."
Seth drove his gun harder into Eli's temple.
Eli's gun exploded. The youngest daughter fell to the ground. Her sister and mother cried. In two years, Eli had heard many people cry. This sound sliced through his brain like a razor.
"This isn't who you are," the mother said again, her voice tight with tears.
Eli hesitated. Stared into the next pair of blue eyes. Seth rapped Eli on the back of the head with his gun.
He pressed the trigger again and the elder daughter fell to the ground. Her mother shrieked. The razor cut something open in Eli's brain. He wondered what he was doing, how he'd gotten there, why he'd just shot two innocent children.
Eli raised the gun again. It was so heavy he could barely lift his arm. He stared into the last pair of blue eyes. They'd lost their defiance. Only pain remained.
The gun exploded a third time.
A guttural, animal shriek filled the room — it came from Mr. Percy. Eli woke from his stupor.
He saw himself standing in the room, the gun hanging by his side. He wondered how many people he'd killed before this moment. How many orders he'd obeyed mindlessly. Hatred, hot and consuming as a wildfire, tore through him.
Seth only laughed. Eli saw the Commander's face for the first time: cold, hopeless.
A New America Trilogy (Book 1): The Human Wilderness Page 24
