“I—I don’t know.” I rub my head. “I think the coyotes dragged me.”
The man frowns and scratches at his beard again, making this scratchy sound like sandpaper, and it makes me want to shudder. He continues to stare at me, his eyes boring into me as if trying to read my soul to judge the truth of my words. “Ah, yeah. I can see that. Yer lucky, you are. I stopped one of them from eatin’ yer face off.” He smiles, showing off several gaps where his teeth should have been. “Ye’d better get goin’ though. It ain’t safe here, neither.” He nods a head at the lake. “That ain’t the only thing waiting to peel the flesh from yer bones.”
My heart beats furiously, skipping a beat here and there. I don’t know what he means by that, and I’m not sure I want to.
Obviously, he’s decided I’m not a threat and is allowing me to leave. I’m willing to take it without asking questions as long as that means I get to leave here alive and intact.
I start backing up, then stop. “Can I have my gun back?”
He frowns. “Now what would yeh think I was stupid enough to hand ye back yer gun fer?”
“I didn’t say you were stupid,” I say.
“Nah, but if yeh think I’m jes goin’ to be givin’ you yer gun back, yeh must think it.”
I shake my head, trying to tell him I just want the gun to hunt for food, but he narrows his eyes at me.
“What’cha doin’ out here all alone fer, boy? Didn’t your mammy tell yeh the Outlands is no place for tots and green horns?”
Deciding I don’t need the gun after all, I bob my head quickly. “Never mind. Keep the gun.” I start backing away again.
His wide face wrinkles further when I do. “I wouldn’t do that, boy. I’d be stoppin’ now.”
I do. Immediately.
“Yeh aren’t out here alone, are yeh? Yer with someone else. Aren’t ya?”
I hesitate only a moment before shaking my head. Evie and Asher are somewhere out here, I hope, but it’s anybody’s guess where. “No. I’m by myself.”
He grins, showing those dark spaces again, but it isn’t a happy look. It’s mean. I’ve only seen that look on one other person’s face—Mother. It makes my veins drip with icy fear.
“Now, why would yeh do that?”
“What?” I slide another foot backward.
“Lie to me.” He shakes his head, then pulls a gun from his back. My gun, actually. I recognize the large dent in the wood stock. “Hands on your head.” He gestures with the gun when I don’t comply. “Come now, don’t be stupid.”
I lift my hands and lace my fingers together behind my head. Plan after stupid, horrible plan bounces through my mind. None of them would work. They would all leave me with a nice-sized hole in my body.
I’m pretty sure that’s going to happen anyway.
Something squawks and he jumps. He turns, looking to see what’s made the sound, and I decide it’s now or never. I pounce on him. I hope the surprise will help me avoid that hole.
It sort of works. I do manage to get my hands on the barrel of the gun, but he manages to keep a grip on it even as we fall to the ground.
That squawk happens again and this time there’s a voice not far from my head. “Fred? You there? Did you find the source of the alarm?”
It’s a radio. It’s sticking out of the sand a few feet away, next to some kind of pack and a large gun. The gun is just lying in the sand, held up by a mini-tripod. I’ve never seen one like this before. Between that, the mention of the alarm, and his weird uniform, I figure Fred is a guard and he’s protecting something. Not that I really care. I’m more concerned with not dying. But as we roll, I realize it might just be easier to go for that other gun after all.
We continue to tussle with the shotgun, but he throws a punch with his meaty fist that connects directly with my temple. Stars explode into my eyes and my ears ring. He rips the gun out of my hands, but I jump backward, immediately falling to the ground and rolling toward the other gun.
A shot rings out. The burst of sand just inches from my head tells me he’s shooting to kill. I grab the gun and spring to my feet, bringing it to my shoulder and aiming at his midsection.
“Stop!” I gasp out. “Don’t come any closer.” This is a bigass gun and it’s going to hurt like hell to fire it. Might even break my shoulder, but a broken shoulder is better than dead.
That is, if I can actually shoot the damn thing. It’s heavy, and I don’t even know if it’s loaded. But, maybe, I’ll be able to convince him to leave me alone long enough that he won’t know I’ve never used something like this.
He lifts his hands in the air as he pushes himself to his feet, but there’s a smirk on his face. “Yeh don’t have the guts, boy.” He spits on the ground and my eyes take in the bloody spittle that flecks the sand.
“Fred,” the radio squawks again. “You okay?… Did you find out what set off that alarm?… Fred?”
I smile, just a small stretching of my lips. “Try me.” I tighten my finger on the trigger. Given the size of the gun, it’s surprisingly easy to press the trigger.
The smirk falls off his face. “Now, boy, yeh don’t need to do that.”
“Fred?… If you don’t answer me, I’m sending someone out there.…”
That seems to bolster him, though. “Even if yeh shoot me, yeh won’t get away with it. They’ll find yeh.” Then he lunges at me, and even though I’d expected him to try something, it startles me and I press the trigger. The gun goes off and knocks me onto my ass.
As I fall, I hear three distinct shots before I hit the ground, knocking the air from my lungs.
I was right. The gun hurts like hell.
I leap back to my feet, wincing as pain rips through my shoulder. I don’t raise the gun. Even if I could, there’s no need to. Fred is rolling down the hill. At first he’s in one piece, with three large holes in his abdomen. But then, to my horror and disgust, as he continues to roll, the skin between the holes tear and he splits into two parts.
The friction must have been too much for those thin strings of flesh. I shudder when what was inside his body comes out and tangles around him before he splashes into the water with a hiss.
Both parts sink quickly and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Actually, I know I’m going to be sick. I collapse onto my knees and try hurling into the sand, but nothing comes up. I’m stuck just kneeling there, gagging, until the retching stops.
What the hell kind of gun was that? I’ve never seen bullets that could tear someone completely in half like that.
The radio squawks again and my heart kicks. I have to get out of here.
With a lurch, I shove to my feet, then throw the gun and radio into the water. A quick search of Fred’s bag produces some much needed food and supplies. I toss the whole bag over my shoulder, grab my own gun, and run. Dizzy, with a fuzzy mind, and still a little green around the gills, I don’t even know what direction I’m running in. I’ll figure it out later. I just run.
As fast and as far as I can.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Once upon a time, there was a queen who lived in an underwater kingdom. The queen was beautiful, but cruel. And although she had many subjects, they were only loyal to her out of fear. The queen did not know love, and she kept her daughter, the princess, locked away for fear that the princess would someday discover love and leave the queen and the underwater kingdom.
—EXCERPT FROM SURFACE FAIRY TALE
Evie
I wake with a scream trapped in my throat as the tatters of the nightmare drift away. The room is still dark, but I reach for Gavin. I just want him to hold me. To tell me it’s all right. That they’re not real. That he’s real, that he’s here. But he’s not. He’ll never be here.
For a good ten minutes, I stare at the ceiling, then sigh and sit up, letting my legs dangle off the side before placing my foot on the floor. But there’s something squishy, and warm, underneath it. I squeal and jump back onto the bed. Whatever it is pops up and lunges at me
, making me fall off the bed on the opposite side and onto my back end on the floor with a thump. It looms above me, looking down at me from its perch on the bed. It’s too dark to make out what it is, but I’m suddenly sure it’s the monsters from my dreams coming to get me.
I scramble back until I’m crouched with my back up against the wall. As it slowly comes nearer me, I hear that click in my head. Everything focuses, just like before.
So I can see the monster better, I reach out and grab a handful of cloth and yank it to me. The fabric rips, fueling my desire to hurt whatever this creature is and prevent it from hurting me. But even then, it’s too dark to really see anything but a pair of wide blue eyes staring into mine. And, only because they look frightened, I decide not to kill it right now.
I tighten my grip on the cloth, tearing it farther and pulling the creature after me, dragging it to the lamp in the corner. With a flick of my fingers, I switch the light on and turn to see … Asher. He’s staring at me, his eyes still wide as he watches me. His shirt is ripped practically from his shoulders, hanging by nothing but a few threads.
His tongue flickers out nervously and wets his lips before he says, “M-morning, Princess.”
I scowl and release him. His shirt pools at his waist when he falls to his knees.
“What did you think you were doing?” I demand, my voice hard and hardly recognizable.
His tongue flicks out again, but he only says, “You squealed and I was trying to see what was wrong.”
Things are starting to get blurry again and I feel exhausted. I let myself sink to the floor next to him as I recall what happened.
“I guess I must have stepped on you,” I finally say. “I stepped on something warm and squishy and it scar … startled me.” No need to admit I was scared. This is embarrassing enough. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He looks at me with an embarrassed smile. “I was too … startled.”
He rubs a hand across his chest and even through my blurry eyes, I can see the distinct lines my fingernails left across his bare skin. Five distinct scratches across his chest that stretch out in a long line from his right pec to the center of his abdomen. Blood oozes down.
I touch his chest gently and bite my lower lip, wrinkling my nose. “Oh, Mother, I’m so sorry, Asher. I … I don’t know what happened.”
He takes a shaky breath, and his eyes swim with something other than pain when he takes my hand. “It’s all right. My fault. Completely. I should’ve known better than to jump up like that.” He squeezes my hand.
“Still.” I try to pull my hand back. “That’s no excuse. I could have seriously hurt you. I don’t know what’s wro—”
He cuts me off when he places his finger over my mouth. “It’s okay. I’m not hurt. I’m just fine. Are you?” he asks. “Hurt, I mean? You fell off the bed pretty hard.”
I take a minute to get my emotions under control—it’s not like feeling guilty and angry with myself is going to change what I’ve done. Besides, hopefully, in a few hours, I’ll know exactly what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.
Gavin
I run until I collapse from exhaustion. Even lying in the dirt, my whole body shakes. My eyes are heavy, gritty and dry. They hurt almost worse than my shoulder. I tell myself I’ll only close my eyes for a second. Just to catch my breath. But when I open them again, it’s freezing, pitch dark, and there’s so much cloud cover I can’t even see the stars.
Cursing under my breath, I fight the urge to laugh, because I’m sure once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop. With my luck, the noise will tempt the coyotes back.
Coyotes. Shit.
I’ve got to get up. Have to keep moving, but I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t even know if I ran in the right direction. There’s an empty, gnawing feeling in my stomach. My head swims and I’m having difficulty concentrating. I decide that I just don’t care if the coyotes find me again. Maybe they’ll carry me somewhere useful this time.
Until morning, I huddle into myself, trying to keep warm. By some miracle the coyotes don’t find me. When the sun rises, I’m cramped and my body is reminding me how much it hates me. When I see the sun, I just stare at it.
“Damn it!” I yell and hear it echo for miles and miles—hundreds of repeats of the word, reiterating my frustration back to me.
I went the wrong way. The completely wrong effing way. I run a hand over my face, still cursing myself over and over in my head, but I push myself to my feet and begin the long trek back the way I came.
For the next several days, I hike with the sun at my back in the mornings and follow it to its horizon in the afternoons. Nights are for lie-downs and fitful sleeps, while I try to keep one ear open for carnivorous wild animals and one hand on my gun.
Every day my muscles get heavier. It requires more and more effort just to keep walking. Even my bones feel like they’re made of lead. Several times, I’m certain I hear voices. And once I even hear Evie’s laugh. I spin around looking for the source; I even backtrack a few steps looking for someone, hoping it’s Evie and Asher, only to find there’s no one there. Which only fills me with bitter disappointment and makes it even harder to keep blundering my way forward.
Finally, I stumble upon another set of footprints. Two sets. One is about my size; the other is much smaller. It can’t be them, though. They have Starshine. There’d be horse prints. Unless they ran into coyotes like I did.
It’s impossible to know for sure, but I follow the prints anyway. Wherever they lead, there will probably be people on the other side, and I hope that means Rushlake, too. My thoughts are fixed firmly on finding Evie. She must be so worried about me. It’s been days with no contact, and she has no way of knowing if I made it away from those vulture-hawks. I keep her face in my mind and put one foot in front of the other, knowing each step takes me closer to seeing her in person.
I panic a little when the footsteps lead into another set of trees. The vulture-hawks prefer forested areas, but they’re diurnal. Thank God. I’ll wait them out and slip into the trees while they sleep.
As soon as the sun sets completely, I step into the woods, keeping the shotgun drawn and cocked, but nothing happens and I push through the woods as quietly as I can.
The footprints disappear in the slightly marshy underbrush of the woods. There’s not enough light, but I remember from the map that the city is just on the other side of a set of woods. So I just keep heading as straight as I can, hoping that I’m almost there. Then, as if I willed it to appear, I find myself on the other side of the trees and staring at Rushlake City.
Evie
I sit in the waiting room, my knee bouncing up and down and my heart beating almost in rhythm to it. I grasp my necklace and run my fingers over the edges of the rose. Whatever happens here at the medical facility, I know it’s going to determine everything. I just have to hope that this time these tests will tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do. And the possibility of knowing the answers scares me almost more than not knowing them.
Asher puts his hand on my knee, but he’s shaking almost as much as I am. For some reason that makes me feel slightly better. To know he’s just as nervous as I am.
The door pushes open and the doctor stands there, silhouetted by the bright lights coming from the room behind him. My mind goes entirely blank and my mouth goes dry. Like I’m back in the Outlands.
“Subject 121!” a voice calls through a set of speakers set in the walls.
That’s me. I know it’s me. I know I have to follow the person in the shadows, but I can’t make my legs move. I really want to cry and I really want my mom.
The woman next to me stands up. “Come now, Evelyn. That’s you.” She smiles down at me, but even I know it’s fake. She doesn’t want to be here either. That doesn’t help my nerves.
“Mother does not tolerate dawdlers.” She yanks me up. “You are not just any three-year-old, you are an Enforcer. And you are not off to a good start. If you wish to impre
ss Mother, you need to follow orders implicitly.”
I swallow and nod, forcing my legs to push me toward the dark person in the doorway. To the moment that changes everything.
“Evie, are you all right?” Asher asks right next to me, causing me to knock the top of my head into his chin.
He spins away, cursing, while I clutch the top of my head with both hands.
I jump up. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Fine. You?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew you were hardheaded, Evie, but I didn’t realize how hard.” He grins at me, still rubbing at his jaw.
“Evelyn Winters?” The woman at the door says, and not for the first time if her tone is anything to go by.
“Coming.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “Coming.”
Feeling faint and not a little nauseated, I walk through the door, letting it flap shut behind me. The room is completely white, and directly in the center, taking up most of the space, is this … well … I don’t know exactly what it is, but it reminds me of Snow White’s casket in the storybook I found in Gavin’s house.
The image does nothing to help my fluttering stomach and heart palpitations.
I take a step backward, away from it, bouncing into someone. I twist around to see the doctor—the same one that had spoken with me at Asher’s grandmother’s house—peering down at me.
He explains the procedure, which consists of me lying in the glass coffin—wonderful—with it closed—even better—while they watch from another room. Fantastic.
“Ready?” he asks.
I don’t answer. I only suck in a deep breath through my nose and settle myself into the tube.
The nurse places headphones over my ears, then presses a button on the side of the box. The glass draws over my head and instantly I feel claustrophobic. As if it’s not just glass crawling over my head, but thousands and thousands of liters of water.
Mother is speaking, droning on and on about etiquette and manners and my duty. Stand this way. Push your shoulders back. Head up. Make sure you smile!
Revelations (The Elysium Chronicles) Page 15
