“Let’s not take any chances,” Nicholae said.
“Sure thing,” Julia said, and the tablet and detached cover disappeared from her hands.
“Hey!” Logan yelled.
“It was expensive, too?” Nicholae said. “I don’t want it in my camp. You can have it back when this is all over or when you decide to leave.”
“I can just leave, if I want to?”
“Yes, I’ll grant you that option. Though you wouldn’t be leaving with all of your memories.”
“Perfect.” Logan crossed his arms and glanced at me with his jaw clenched hard. He looked as though he were rethinking his decision to come here.
Bruno stepped up behind Julia to join the conversation, placing his hands on the back of her chair.
“I found them inside CB1, talking with the prisoners,” he said. “They said they were looking for you.”
“We were looking for you,” I interjected. “We thought you were still in there. So we went inside for a minute. We weren’t inside long.”
“What did they say?” Nicholae asked me, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind his head.
“They asked for help, just what you’d expect.”
“What else did they tell you?”
“What makes you think they’re with Kafka?”
“Because after all the lies, one of them finally began telling the truth.”
“The guy fused to the chair?”
“No, not him,” Nicholae said dismissively.
“If you torture someone enough, they’ll start telling you whatever you want to hear.”
Nicholae smiled. He looked like he was actually having fun. “You spoke with them for a few whole minutes and you presume you know all about them. You’re confident in that?”
“You were wrong before,” Logan said.
“I was careful,” Nicholae corrected him. “Don’t mistake the two.”
“Why did you bring them here?” I asked. “Why didn’t you leave them in the old camp?”
“Control is important,” Nicholae replied. “I want to know more. I want them under my watch. Leaving them behind could have essentially set them free—not something I can allow.”
“So what, once you’ve gotten all the information you think you’re gonna get, you’re just gonna kill them?”
He had no sense of mercy in his eyes.
“Oliver, doesn’t it feel good to have the self-assurance of your daediem?” Nicholae asked.
“What are you talking about?”
But before he could answer, the world crashed again. The ground seemed to drop a step from under our feet. I teetered and my ankle twisted and instantly gave out, spilling me to the floor. Nicholae and Julia fell from their chairs. Bruno caught himself with the wall before his massive body collapsed on top of Julia’s petite frame.
Logan screamed so terribly it hurt my ears. He was now lying on the floor with one leg impaled at an angle on a circular wooden post sticking out of the floor. His leg had fused with the post as it appeared, while he was still falling, and had ripped his leg wide open before he hit the floor. The post hadn’t broken from Logan’s leg pulling at it, but remained firmly upright. Fragments of bone stuck out from the open wound. Blood was gushing from all sides, pooling on the hardwood beneath, and flowing along the thin joints between the planks of wood.
Behind Logan, near the far wall, I noticed another wooden post protruding from the floor, and then another—and more as I continued to pivot my attention. There were at least twelve mysterious posts jutting from the floor around the room, one sticking out from the center of Nicholae’s bed.
Logan was not the only one screaming. Petrified and agonized cries for help rose from outside, along with rapid bursts of gunfire.
Oliver Remembers (iii)
“What do you see?” I called to Logan. He was now four branches ahead of me, nearing the height needed to see over the great wall surrounding Lorne Castle. We had ventured into the neighboring forest. Logan spent much of his time out here when he wasn’t stealing food from the butchers and bakers and sneaking around the castle.
“I’m almost there,” he exclaimed, reaching for another branch.
As we ascended, the branches grew thinner and increasingly bent under our weight.
“I don’t think I should go any higher,” I said.
“Don’t be a scaredy-cat.”
As soon as he finished talking, I heard a crack.
Logan shrieked, but nothing else happened. The branch he was standing on had a jagged break near the trunk, but the break only extended halfway through the branch. It sagged and moaned, but still held Logan’s weight. He slowly pushed his way up to the next branch.
“Be careful of that one,” he called down.
“I’m turning around,” I said.
“Com’on! I can almost see over the wall,” Logan whined.
I reached for the next branch, still several below the broken one. My sweaty hand slipped from the new branch and I grasped wildly to regain my balance. My hands were sweating even more now; I gripped the branch for dear life.
“You okay?” Logan asked.
“Yeah,” I simply said, my voice shaky.
I heard another crack and my gaze immediately shot up to Logan, but he was fine. The crack hadn’t come from his branches—it had come from the broken limb below him, which had now almost fully given way and swung down in an arch toward the trunk, and straight toward my head!
I clung to my branch with one arm and raised the other over my head in a poor attempt to shield it.
The branch hit the trunk in front of me, with only small offshoots scraping against my body and stuffing leaves in my face.
My legs shook uncontrollably at the near miss of the branch now hanging limply against the trunk of the tree. I didn’t know how much longer the branches would hold me up and they definitely wouldn’t allow me to climb any higher.
“Whoa, that was close,” Logan said from far above me.
“Too close,” I said. “I’m heading down.” Or at least I would be in a moment, when my legs would finally allow me to move.
“Okay, I’m coming, too.”
I didn’t believe him, so I looked up to see if he was really changing direction.
Logan stepped down to the next branch, and then to the next. When he reached where the broken branch had previously extended, he had to stretch much further than usual to reach the branch below. When he did, his feet landed hard, and that branch, too, cracked. Logan’s footing fell out from under him as the branch arched down to the trunk, and he was suddenly in a freefall, quickly plummeting toward the ground. He screamed and flailed violently, trying to catch himself on branches that he struck on the way down. His arm slapped against mine as he passed, but neither of us could grab hold of the other. I looked down just in time to see him hit the first branch, and then the ground.
He didn’t scream any longer. He lay still on his back with his eyes closed.
“Logan!” I screamed. “Logan! Say something!”
I hurried down, from branch to branch, and finally swung down to the dead-leaf covered ground. I knelt beside his still body. He looked like he was simply taking a peaceful nap in the woods, except for the cuts on his cheeks and the blood seeping from the rips in his clothing.
I grabbed his arm and shook it.
Logan remained asleep.
I looked around to see if I could find anyone nearby. The gate to the great wall of the castle would be a ten-minute run from here. And I didn’t want to leave Logan alone.
“Wake up, Logan!” I cried, tears now streaming down my cheeks. “Wake up!”
I remained beside him, continuing to shake his lifeless body, not knowing what else to do.
10
Autumn
“Nicholae, help him!” I yelled, crawling over to Logan, whose face was contorted in pain and dripping with sweat.
My friend held his hands out like he wanted to cover the wound, but too af
raid to touch it. They just hovered in midair, shaking a few inches above the jagged opening.
“I don’t know what to do!” I screamed.
Nicholae bounded to his feet and grabbed the post. When he yanked it up, the wood pulled free from the floor and slid through the hole in Logan’s leg. The bottom of the post emerged from the top of the wound, which had now closed up, blood drying all around where it had just been flowing a moment ago. Nicholae tossed the bloody post aside and knelt down to inspect Logan’s leg. The hole in his pant leg and crusty dried blood were all that remained of the damage.
“Can you move it?” he asked.
Logan was sucking in huge gulps of air, but his face slowly began to relax. “I think so,” he said, and extended and contracted it slowly.
“Good.” Nicholae was on his feet in a second. “If I find out they found us from your device, I’ll start by sticking that post right back in.”
Bruno and Julia emerged from the closet with extra bulletproof vests and equipped holster belts.
Above the outdoor screams and gunfire rose a high-pitched whimpering.
“Oh no,” I gasped.
Bruno handed me a loaded holster belt and vest, which I strapped on with surprising agility. Julia tossed Logan his.
“I hope you know how to shoot,” she said, releasing her pistol from its holster.
“I can manage,” Logan answered.
My worry focused on Desiree, but the knowledge that she was or at least had been with Mr. Gordon provided a decent amount of comfort.
“Bruno!” Nicholae yelled above the bedlam of noise outside. “Stay here and keep them safe.”
“I didn’t come all this way to hide,” I exclaimed. “I’m here to help.”
“And you can help by staying here.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You’ve been here one whole day.” Nicholae opened the door a crack and peered out. “I’m not negotiating with you. I’m telling you what to do.” He threw the door open the rest of the way and slipped out with Julia. The door slammed shut. The whimpering beyond stopped a few seconds later.
I took out my gift of a pistol to feel the weight of it in my hands. Everyone else in our original group had been given target practice to gain some proficiency with the available weapons, but not me—the weapons were aimed at me. As Desiree had said, I was the target.
“Make sure the safety’s on,” Bruno said, coming over to me. He snatched the pistol from my hands and examined it. “There you go.” He showed me the lever he’d clicked and then cocked back the slide. “You’re locked and loaded. Just release the safety when you’re ready to fire. Remember to aim away from yourself and us.”
I gave him an unamused look and took back my handgun.
Logan was huddled in the doorway of the open closet.
Bruno strolled into the bathroom, turned on the light, and came back into the main room.
“Keep an eye on the adjoining rooms like the bathroom and closet so no one sneaks in to surprise us.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer to be outside, where we have a better view of people coming?” I asked. How do you hide in a building from soldiers who can see and walk right through walls? I felt like a sitting duck. The few tinted windows around the building were small and useless, and standing by them was a great way to be grabbed and pulled through the wall.
“They’re trying to eliminate the easy targets outside right now, especially the wounded from those damn spikes,” Bruno said, gazing around the room, clutching his pistol with both hands.
“You think Kafka’s guys did that?” I asked.
“I know Kafka’s guys did that. Those spikes were obviously put in above us as booby-traps for the second cut, for an ambush.” He paused, still surveying the room, and then added, “The walls are bulletproof in case you’re wondering.”
“That’s a minor relief,” Logan said. He hadn’t moved from the closet doorway.
I decided to take his lead and headed for the bathroom doorway—my post to guard. Scanning the deceptive walls around me, I soon realized why I was originally wrong. We weren’t sitting ducks. We were all on a level playing field. The soldiers outside—if they were focusing—could see in, but I could just as easily see out, beyond the walls, and view the battlefield from my bulletproof perch. We could see out (or in) from each side of the wall, but someone had to pass through to shoot.
The first of Kafka’s helmeted soldiers emerged from the far wall, weapon raised and fired at Bruno who took several shots to the chest. The bullets colliding with his vest pushed him back a few steps, but he remained standing and fired several shots into an armored chest and one into the intruder’s exposed neck. A stream of blood arched away from the intruder’s body as he fell back. He crashed into the wall and slid to the floor, ending in a slumped, awkward position—a lifeless ragdoll.
Bruno ran up and grabbed the dead man’s gun, checked its magazine, and then stuffed it in his holster as a backup.
I hadn’t found my focus to see through the walls yet. I hadn’t even seen that guy coming. I glanced into the bathroom behind me to make sure it was still empty.
“Stay alert,” Bruno said to the both of us. “Expect more visitors.”
I looked over at Logan, who had his handgun propped on his knee.
“I thought this place would be safe,” he said. “I guess nowhere is.”
I shrugged, not knowing how to respond. Had his bug led them here as well? Was Nicholae right? I wanted to believe there was another explanation. But I was dividing my focus. I needed to cease the inner dialog and focus on my sight so we didn’t continue to be surprised—well, Bruno probably wasn’t, but I was.
I stared at the far wall, away from the distraction of the dead body, and tried to clear my mind of all other thoughts and images. The wall fading away was my sole objective, and was the only thing important in that moment. If it wasn’t, then I’d never see through. An image of Desiree popped into my head, distracting my focus. A picture of her being held at gunpoint quickened my pulse and breathing. The man holding the gun to her face pulled the trigger. I closed my eyes, trying to erase the image.
It’s not real.
It’s not real.
But the image of Anna was real—her bleeding in her cell with her beautiful mirror sprinting to her aid. The life draining from her open arms in sheets of blood. I reopened my eyes to escape the haunting final image of the girl who’d said she loved me so many weeks ago.
Tears threatened the edges of my eyes and I wiped them with my free hand. I couldn’t do anything for either of them sitting here—especially blind.
I need to focus!
“You okay?” Logan called to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just trying to see through the walls.”
“You’ve gotta relax or you’ll be wasting your energy for nothing.”
“I know,” I whispered, more for myself then a response to his statement. “I know.”
I tried to block out the gunfire and screams coming from outside and tried to convince myself that the most useful thing I could do was look through the walls to see what’s happening. I stared at the wall trying to remember the look of the building across the way. I focused on the exterior walls of the next building instead of not seeing the walls confining me. Focus on what you want—and I wanted to see outside.
I set my attention on the far building and the walkway in between, and a hazy picture of it slowly began to materialize like looking through a window overtaken by frost on a cold winter morning. The image became clearer as I remained focused and patient. I couldn’t force it or the vision would be gone as soon as it appeared. I felt the fatigue already growing, but I tried my best to ignore it.
I’ve got this.
Once the frost from my imagined window to the outside faded, I began to shift my gaze to spy in all directions from my protected vantage point. Following the imaginary window into the bathroom behind me, I saw the path between buildings stretch toward
the woods surrounding the camp—and the rest of my group escaping in a cautious run toward what I guessed would be the trail to the falls. They dodged the obstacle course of posts, several with slumped bodies impaled on them. Desiree led the way, with Darius’s family in the middle, and Jeremy and Mr. Gordon bringing up the rear.
“They’re making a run for it,” I whispered to Logan.
“How’re we going to get past him?” Logan gestured to Bruno, who was currently pacing the room with steady, precise steps like a caged tiger.
I didn’t have an answer, but I wanted to chase after them. I had to see Desiree, to help keep her safe. I had failed with Anna. I couldn’t allow myself to fail again. I couldn’t live with myself if I failed again.
Two more soldiers rushed in through the wall by the bed, but Bruno was ready for both of them. Within the span of three seconds, he had both guns out and fired at both soldiers simultaneously before they had a chance to get off clean shots. And it was within those three seconds that I saw my window of escape. I jumped to my feet and sprinted into the bathroom, leaping over the tub and through the tiled wall.
The gunfire sounded like it was coming from everywhere. I stood against the wall and inched closer to the corner of the building. The pathway I was in seemed clear for the moment.
“You bastard.” Logan slapped my shoulder. “Don’t ditch me.”
I mumbled an apology and peeked around the corner of the building. One soldier was standing about twenty feet away. He unhooked his helmet and removed it.
It was Eli!
He looked on the verge of hyperventilating. He held the helmet to his side in one hand and a handgun pointed at the ground in the other. His face and neck were drenched in sweat and a trickle of blood painted his right cheek. He glanced around nervously.
I had seen him on the television standing behind Alexandria, but I didn’t want to believe that he’d really be fighting for them. I knew our relationship was always rocky because of Desiree, but I didn’t know he hated me enough to want to kill me.
Doria Falls Page 13
