Sentinel

by Emerald Dodge

  27

  Reid’s eyes glowed soft white. I pulled out my gun. We hid in the branches of a large pine, the spicy scent surrounding us.

  I peered through the sticky needles and held my breath.

  The ground shook for several seconds, toppling most of the twenty-five Westerners where they stood in their forested encampment. A wolf streaked past us, its fangs bared.

  My team and I surged forward, ready for the kill. On the other side of the small camp, half a dozen Sentinels flooded the camp, guns drawn.

  My brain took in the scene in lurches and lulls. I didn’t hear the gunfire around me, nor did I wince at the anguished cries of the dying. Their fear and horror did not penetrate my heart.

  Instead, I felt the cool metal in my hand, enjoying its weight. I smelled my warm breath inside the neck gaiter that concealed half of my face. The frozen earth was solid and dependable under my boots. The crisp early morning breeze played with a small lock of hair that had slipped out of my bun.

  For one brief second, I asked myself if I was ready to abandon my superhero way of thinking and embrace what it meant to be a Sentinel. A tiny, Benjamin-like voice tried to rise up, but I remembered Dean’s advice to let my anger and hate become my fuel.

  I hated the camps.

  I hated the elders.

  I hated what it meant to be a superhero, a peon of the camps that had hurt us so much.

  I hated it all.

  My hate solidified in my chest. The leaden sensation did not reach my feet, which were lighter than ever before as I ran into the clearing.

  A Westerner crawled out of his fallen tent. I shot him in the head, just like I should’ve killed Patrick when he’d first beaten me.

  A second man raised his hand to me and my throat closed. I shot his hand, and then his forehead. He’d tried to choke me with his mind, as Patrick had done so many times. My finger moved of its own volition as I shot him many more times than necessary.

  Another man swiped at me with a knife as long as my hand. I blocked his attack and brought down my gun against his temple, relishing the crunch, which was similar to the sound Matthew’s shin had made when I’d stepped on it. When he dropped, I shot him in the back of the head, just like the Westerners had done to the people who were supposed to replace Benjamin and Isabel.

  A fourth Westerner shot at me from behind a large pine, missing by inches. I simply raised my gun and shot him in the forehead, ensuring that my eyes, visible above my neck gaiter, were the last things he ever saw.

  There was silence in the dark clearing.

  “Is everyone alive?” Dean asked.

  Before I could answer, a man grabbed me from behind and pulled me close to him, a knife in his hand.

  Without thinking I twisted and tossed him over my shoulder, then plunged my own knife into his neck. He twitched, then stilled.

  I kneeled next to his corpse and tried to still my ragged breathing. Matthew had pulled me close to him, too. Matthew hadn’t had a knife, but he might as well have held one to my throat while he… he…

  The Sentinels cheered. The raid was over.

  Two Sentinels ran over to me and patted me on the back, murmuring words of amazement that I had performed so well. A third Sentinel kicked the man I’d just killed, pure contempt in his eyes. It took me a second to realize that it was Gregory.

  Slowly, so slowly, my vision widened, and my sense of time came back. I wasn’t able to immediately gauge how long the attack had lasted. For all I knew, I’d been fighting for an hour, but the pre-dawn shade of blue above me hadn’t lightened. Had it only been a few minutes?

  I holstered my gun and gave my head a little shake.

  Bodies were everywhere. Westerners littered the ground, their limbs bent at unnatural angles. Many bore bloody holes in their chests and faces. One of them lacked a head. The flesh of the headless corpse smelled of cooked meat—Marco’s doing, no doubt. I stepped over a man with a significant amount of neck missing and searched for the rest of my team.

  Marco and Reid were in the center of the camp, examining a gash on Reid’s arm by the warm light of an orb in Marco’s hand. Reid dabbed at it with a cloth and winced.

  I ran up to him. “Did one of them get you?”

  Reid shook his head in disbelief. “I fell, and one of them jumped on me. Marco blasted the guy, so I’m okay.”

  “I’m fine, too,” Marco said. “I wish I’d been able to kill more.”

  I pulled down my neck gaiter. “I killed five. That was… that was intense.”

  “How are you feeling?” Marco asked. “I know you don’t like it when you have to kill people.”

  I glanced over at Dean, who was lining up the bodies on the ground. I looked back at Marco. “I’m fine. I’m going to go help Dean.”

  The leaden weight in my chest hadn’t dissipated, but I didn’t want to worry them. Perhaps if I set myself to a useful task like corpse disposal, I’d feel better.

  I hurried over to Dean and picked up a still-warm corpse with little effort. “Here, let me.” I dropped it on the ground next to the others. The man couldn’t have been older than twenty.

  The leaden weight descended into my stomach and mutated into nausea.

  “How was your first raid?” Dean asked, elbowing me. “I told all the guys about the bet.”

  “You’re an ass,” I said, laughing with feigned mirth. “A stupid one. Now everyone is going to watch you lose.” We finished lining up the bodies. “Want me to get Reid to help with burial?”

  “Oh, yeah. That saves us a lot of time,” Dean said, thoughtful. He waved at Reid, who hurried over. “Hey, Reid, we need a grave.”

  Reid’s eyes glowed again, and he clenched his fist, staring intently at the ground beneath the bodies. A pit appeared, similar to the unfortunate lion pit from before the tribunal, and the bodies descended into the ground. After he’d lowered them about six feet, he swiped the air. Dirt fell onto the bodies, leaving nothing but a small depression in the ground.

  “Lots of practice?” Dean asked, impressed.

  “Tons. Though not just Westerners. I was the guy who buried everyone back home.”

  “Your life is depressing,” Marco said. He wandered over to Gregory, who was speaking with Antonio. Gregory and Antonio paused in conversation to greet Marco, then continued their conversation.

  Marco hung around the edge, unable to engage them.

  I turned back to Dean. “Let’s go back to camp and see who won that bet.”

  Christiana hadn’t joined the raiding party, so we walked back to our temporary camp on foot, hiking up and down foothills as the sun crested in the east.

  The day was cloudless and freezing, and the prairie wind whipped around us, cutting through my clothes. I shivered and pulled my neck gaiter up over my nose. A lone songbird flittered around above us, its yellow-orange belly making it appear as though it was a tiny ball of fire. Its plumage was familiar to me, though I could not place where I’d seen it before.

  Reid and Marco flanked me, saying nothing. Every once in a while, Marco would turn to look behind us, where Gregory and Antonio were still conversing. He’d drop his head and turn away.

  After the fourth time, I put my hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

  “Antonio is a tool,” Marco growled. “Why is Gregory friends with him? I bet he’s the one saying all the nasty stuff about superheroes. He’s a bad influence.”

  Reid and I exchanged quick glances.

  “You know, I need to practice sparring,” Reid said. “We haven’t done any in a while. Wanna do that tonight?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Marco muttered.

  Reid sighed, and I shook my head sadly. “You should offer to teach Gregory some moves sometime,” I suggested. “He was at the lesson yesterday. He might be more open to learning from you if Antonio isn’t watching.”

  “Gregory doesn’t want to learn what ‘self-righteous bullies’ learn,” Marco spat. “I offered to coach him after
Reid broke your nose. He called us that. He called me that.”

  “Gregory has issues,” I said. “He’s bitter and he’s having trouble reconciling people he loves with the ideology he hates. That’s why I decided to wait for him to come to me. He needs to come to the conclusion that we’re not evil himself.”

  “But we were best friends!” Marco burst out. “There was a time when I didn’t have any secrets from him. We used to play superheroes together when we were kids. I would be Apollo and he’d be…”

  Marco let out a bitter laugh.

  “He was Sentinel, because of his super eyesight. God, I’d forgotten that until just now. Sentinel.” He kicked a rock. “The sun god and the sentinel. I guess we both got our wishes.”

  “Settle down!” Dean called, beckoning for the small raiding party to come closer.

  We were standing in the middle of the tiny cluster of tents we’d set up for the raid. “It’s the moment of reckoning. I’m sure all of you remember me telling you about the little bet I made with Jillian.” They hooted and hollered as Dean faced me. “All right, Battlecry, fess up. On your honor, how many did you kill?”

  The corners of my mouth twitched. “Five.”

  “One was with a knife, though,” Gregory said icily. “I saw you. The terms were that you had to shoot them, like an actual Sentinel.”

  “Okay, four then. God forbid I should use my knife to protect myself in a rear attack. Anybody with an hour of self-defense training will tell you—”

  “How many did you kill?” Graham asked Dean.

  “Five,” Dean said with a little smile. “All headshots.”

  Damn it.

  The Sentinels whooped and high-fived Dean.

  I covered my eyes for a moment, riding out the embarrassment, then shook hands with Dean. “You won, fair and square. What do I have to do?”

  Everyone watched Dean while he thought. I expected his usual smirk and an announcement of an exquisite humiliation, but instead his expression remained unusually serious.

  “You don’t have to do anything. You were right—you were attacked from behind and a knife made more sense. I wouldn’t have wanted you to risk your life for the bet, so I’m letting you off the hook.”

  There were a few disappointed groans. “Um, okay,” I said, taken aback. “If that’s what you want.”

  The grumbling Sentinels dispersed to their tents. Dean looked over his shoulder to where Gregory and Antonio were speaking. “Gregory, come here.”

  Gregory waved Antonio on and walked up to us. “Yes?”

  Dean’s expression turned stern. “I’m concerned about the attitude you’ve been showing Jillian and her team. You implied back there that we are defined by our use of firearms, but that’s never been true. We use guns because not all of us have powers, and most of the powers we have are impractical in battle. Nor do we always want to get up close to the Westerners. Actual Sentinels can appreciate the value in many forms of offense and defense. That’s why I seized the opportunity to have superheroes working with us.”

  Gregory made a face. “They’re not superheroes anymore. They’re Sentinels now.”

  Marco stepped up. “No, you know what? I’m a damned superhero, Greg. Maybe I don’t work for the camps anymore, but I’m not going to just turn my back on who I am just because I’m pissed at the elders.”

  “You can’t go back,” Gregory said through gritted teeth. “You left the camps. You’re no more of a superhero than I am. You’re just like me—camp trash that got thrown out.”

  “Enough!” Dean yelled. Gregory and Marco jumped. “Gregory, go cool off.”

  Gregory stormed away, joining Antonio and disappearing into their tent after one last furious look at us. I turned to ask Marco if he was all right, but he had already dashed into our tent. I knew to give him time before speaking to him. Reid, on the other hand, followed him into the tent.

  “That was ugly,” I said with a sigh. The wind blew again, and I shivered. “I’m going to go get some firewood. Wanna come with me?”

  “Sure,” Dean said. While we walked toward a line of trees at the edge of a nearby creek, he turned to me. “I thought Gregory would get over his resentment when he worked side by side with you guys, but there’s more going on there than I thought.” He sighed. “He’s told me so much about the fierce sister he loved. I hoped he’d see you in battle and remember that you’re the same person even though you’re a superhero now.”

  “He’s different than I remember him, but I hadn’t thought that maybe we’re different than how he remembers us. We must be so disappointing. You said so yourself.”

  We’d reached the trees. Instead of collecting firewood, Dean faced me. “No.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not. I was only teasing you to get a reaction when I said you were a disappointment. You traveled across the country and into the wilderness to find Benjamin and Isabel. That’s exactly what I expected from Battlecry.”

  There was a quiet moment as we gazed at each other, the wind blowing wisps of my hair around.

  “Dean?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you call off the bet?” I gently removed his hand from my shoulder. “You are cocky, and I know you had something in mind when you issued the challenge.”

  Dean’s brow furrowed. “I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t have wanted you to risk your life to win a bet.” All traces of his normal cavalier attitude were gone. “I’m actually surprised you didn’t.”

  I looked down at the dead leaves on the ground. “When the man grabbed me from behind, it triggered a memory of when Matthew… of Matthew,” I said quietly. “And instinct kicked in. My instincts are to use knives.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’ll never tell someone to go against their instincts in battle. For what it’s worth, I liked watching you with the knife.” He pulled down his neck gaiter and I did the same. “But what you said about Matthew… that’s the other reason I didn’t hold you to the bet.”

  “What does Matthew have to do with any of this?” A spiky ball of fear rolled down my spine.

  Sadness settled on Dean. “If I won the bet, I was going to make you kiss me. But when you told me about Matthew, there was no way I was going to make you do it. I think you’ve had enough of that kind of thing.”

  I stood rooted to the earth. Dean wanted to make me kiss him? Why?

  That wouldn’t have been embarrassing, just silly and weird. The Sentinels would’ve laughed and whistled, and then forgotten about it. Marco and Reid wouldn’t have approved, and maybe even told Benjamin, but what could I do? A bet was a bet, and I’d lost.

  I took in Dean’s wistful expression and knew the answer to my question. “You know I’m with Benjamin.” My voice was hardly above a whisper.

  “Are you? Because all you’ve done since you’ve arrived here is fight. I know I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

  “We’re going through a rough patch, though I don’t know how we’re going to get past it.” I hated the truth.

  As I spoke, I pictured Benjamin in the chemical lab, a gun in his hand. Berenice was on the floor.

  The image swirled and changed to Benjamin’s barb in the tent, the words he’d spat at me, the request for five minutes of peace from having to “deal” with me and my stupid network of superheroes.

  I closed my eyes against the onslaught of pain but was unable to stop it. He’d rolled his eyes at me when I tried to tell him about Matthew. Matthew.

  Dean took a small step closer. “I understand. If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”

  Something in me gave way.

  Without a word, I pulled Dean close and kissed him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. His lips parted, and I felt his breath in my mouth, and the pleasant pressure of his piercings against my lips.

  He returned my passion eagerly, pressing himself close and relaxing into the moment. His hands traveled down to my waist. I moaned, wanting more.
>
  For one second, I was sitting by the campfire before the tribunal, and his hands were Benjamin’s.

  I ran my hands through Dean’s black hair, eliciting a breathy gasp from him. He unwound my bun and loosened my hair, tangling his fingers in it and causing pleasurable sensations to shoot through my body.

  I was by the fire again, kissing Benjamin passionately, enjoying how he tugged on my hair.

  Suddenly I was up against a tree, shoved against the rough bark by Dean’s comforting, masculine weight. Our hands seemed to be everywhere at once while we explored each other. The temperature underneath my fleece had risen to an uncomfortable level.

  I lifted a shaking hand to my fleece’s zipper.

  Fantasies and possibilities flitted through my mind: going to Dean’s house, tearing each other’s clothes off, the night of pleasure and relaxation, his hands on my body that I’d invited and welcomed. He’d eagerly accept my offer to be my first.

  Our liaison would crush Benjamin, even more than he’d be crushed if he knew that we were kissing. Maybe then he’d understand how I felt when he’d rolled his eyes at me.

  As I began to slowly unzip my fleece, I pulled my mouth away a fraction of an inch and inhaled, preparing to ask him the question to which he’d never say no. Dean never said no to me.

  He breathed my name.

  His voice was not Benjamin’s.

  I broke away from him, blinking rapidly and panting. “We’re getting carried away. The guys will wonder where we’ve gone. Go back to the camp and I’ll get the firewood.”

  Dean put a hand on his heaving chest, then nodded. “You’re right. I’ll see you there.” He dashed toward the camp and disappeared over the hill.

  I collapsed to my knees, letting the tears fall. They turned into sobs. I leaned back against a pine tree, crying freely.

  What was wrong with me? Why had I kissed Dean? I barely knew him. What had spurred me to cheat on my boyfriend with a man I’d met less than a week before? What had spurred me to cheat on my boyfriend, period?

  I sniffed and wiped my nose. Maybe what I’d done wasn’t so bad. I’d kissed Dean because Benjamin hadn’t been receptive to my attempt to talk about Matthew.