The dog realized that the big man wanted him to run away.
But where would the dog go?
“Wolf hurt dog,” the big man said and the dog noticed he had wet eyes, like when people were sad. The big man motioned toward the woods. “Go.”
The dog tilted his head at the big man. The big man threw the thing that had been on the dog’s nose at him, but it did not hurt when it hit him on the side. The dog wagged his tail.
“Go, dog!” The big man whispered loudly this time. He pulled his gun out and shot it once into the air.
The sudden sound startled the dog, but he was used to guns so he was not scared. All the people had guns. Even the person who was not a person had a gun.
Wait.
That made the dog think of something.
The person who was not a person!
Suddenly, the dog knew where he could go. His two favorite people loved the person who was not a person. The person who was not a person was very smart. The person who was not a person was on the same side of the fence as the dog.
The dog could find the person who was not a person!
The person who was not a person would definitely be able to help his favorite people!
He knew where to find the person who was not a person!
The dog wagged his tail at the big man, turned, and ran off into the woods.
The dog did not see it, but behind him, the big man smiled and waved as the dog disappeared into the jungle.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beryl stumbled as Oly used her gun to push her forward.
“Watch it, clumsy.” Oly pushed Beryl again. “If I think you’re trying to pull something, I won’t hesitate to use this.”
Beryl felt the barrel of the gun dig into her back. Beryl looked up and took her next step more carefully, even though it was difficult to walk with her hands tied behind her back and the gun constantly poking her. Next to Beryl, one of the other Civitians had his gun to the back of Vlad and was marching him along, though it didn’t seem to Beryl that the other Civitian was taking as much pleasure in the task as Oly.
Ahead of them, their Bird sat where they had left it only 48 hours earlier. However, next to it now sat a second Bird. The second one belonged to the Civitians. Beryl guessed it had landed overnight or early this morning, though she had not heard it. The gold surface of the Bird belonging to the Civitians’ shone in the first light of the morning sun just as brightly as their own, but its design was slightly different. Not hugely different, but noticeably so for anyone paying attention. Most prominently, its nose was slightly more pointed than their own, and its wings tapered more slowly to their ends.
As they got closer to the two Birds, Beryl realized they were heading toward their own ship, not that of the Civitians. It made sense; if they were going to go after Heming, Fawn, and Iris, the slightly different ship of the Civitians would be a dead giveaway as to who it was.
“We’re using our Bird?” Vlad asked. He must have realized what Beryl had about where they were headed.
No one answered Vlad, despite the fact that they were now accompanied by not just the four Civitians who had been there yesterday, but all of them from Ivy. Except one. Beryl had no idea where the other man she had sat next to at their dinner had gone, but he was not with him.
Walking toward the Birds, Beryl saw a spot of dark soil that looked something other than natural. As they walked around the dark area—and the Civitians definitely led them around it, rather than walking through it—Beryl caught a whiff of something both familiar and not familiar. It was almost metallic. The smell was pungent enough for Beryl to taste it on her tongue.
She suddenly realized exactly what it was.
Blood.
Maybe there was a reason there was one fewer person with the Civitians. Beryl shot Vlad a quick glance, in time to see his nose scrunched up. Then he looked at her, and she knew he knew as well.
Neither of them thought the missing Civitian was still alive.
Beryl tried not to think about how easily someone who could kill a companion would kill her, and focused on the Birds ahead of them. The Civitians led them toward their own, and as the group approached the Bird, its back ramp opened.
Beryl couldn’t see the group of Civitians behind her, but she could hear them quietly start talking amongst themselves. Something that had just happened seemed to be unexpected.
“Shut up,” Wolf said from behind Beryl. Just hearing his voice sent a tremble of anger through her body, even if the comment was not directed at her. It was a good thing there was a gun at her back, because she didn’t think just being tied up would have stopped her from attempting to kill him if she was given the choice. The threat of her own death—and that her own death would thwart her ability to get revenge for killing her dog, not to mention the potential that something would happen to her friends and her father—was enough to keep her in line.
For now.
The group behind them quieted, Beryl and Vlad led the way up the back ramp of the Bird. Beryl caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of the ship, and saw that no one would have doubted she had been crying all night.
At least physically she felt good. She would have expected to wake up feeling awful after the beating she had taken the evening before, but when she woke up from the small, fitful sleep she had gotten, it had felt like nothing had happened. Even a rib she suspected was broken the night before felt normal.
If the change in Beryl was surprising, the change in Vlad was shocking. There was still some blood caked on his face and in his hair, but beneath it, Beryl could see his wounds were entirely healed, like nothing had happened at all. Earlier that morning, what was left of the broken teeth in his mouth had fallen out, and Vlad swore to Beryl that he could feel new teeth pushing up from below them.
Beryl had been doubtful, but seeing their lack of lingering injuries, she had started to doubt her doubt.
“Where do you want us to sit?” Vlad asked, looking at the seats lining the back of the Bird as they climbed into its passenger compartment.
“Up front,” Wolf said. Beryl and Vlad headed toward the two forward-most passenger. “No, up front, up front. Pilot seat and shotgun.”
Vlad looked at Beryl. He looked as confused by this as she felt. Apparently the look was not lost on the Civitians, either.
“Interesting,” Wolf said. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” Vlad asked.
“We couldn’t get into the Bird without you. Ellis suspects we wouldn’t be able to fly it, either. Your Iris has done something to this Bird to keep us out and prevent us from flying it.” As Wolf spoke, Vlad looked at Beryl and raised an eyebrow.
This was news to both of them.
“Hold up,” Wolf said before Beryl and Vlad could sit down. “You obviously can’t fly this thing with your hands tied up.”
“And what makes you think we’re going to fly this anywhere for you?” Vlad asked.
In response, Oly moved her gun from Beryl’s back to her head. “Because we all know you aren’t going to let us kill Beryl when there is still a chance to save her and all the rest of your friends.”
“I have a question,” Beryl said as Wolf moved to cut the ties off of Vlad. She had just thought of a problem for them. And, having had Oly pointing the gun at her for a significant part of the last few minutes, she was not feeling terribly threatened by its presence at the back of her head. “There isn’t any reason for us to trust that you won’t kill us as soon as we take you to where everyone else is. Why not just refuse to fly the Bird there, and at least give them the chance to find my dad?”
“Gold star for you, Beryl Roberts,” Wolf said. “There really isn’t any reason for us not to kill you. I’m sort of counting on you wanting to live as long as possible, with the hope that you’ll come up with some magical way to save your friends or get revenge for us killing your dog, even if that’s basically an impossibility at this point.”
Ber
yl knew he was right. With Heming injured, there was little chance the Civitians wouldn’t find Heming, Fawn, and Iris, if for no other reason than to eliminate their competition to find Whit. If Beryl could stay alive, she might have a chance to save them. Or, at the very least, she could give all of them—or some of them—a chance to stay alive and find her father.
And maybe, as part of all of it, she could get revenge for Camp.
Suddenly, Beryl had a thought that might buy them even more time. But she didn’t need to reveal that yet. She had no doubt there would be a time when revealing the information could keep them alive.
“There’s also the fact that we’re probably still your best bet to find Whit,” Vlad said as one of the Civitians cut the ties off of his hands.
“Perhaps. Though if we killed all of you, we wouldn’t have anyone else around looking for him. We would, essentially, have all the time in the world to find him.”
“Until someone else showed up here,” Beryl said. Oly pushed her toward the shotgun seat. Some of the Civitians started talking amongst themselves again. Beryl didn’t know what she had said that had led to the commotion, but something had clearly set them off.
“Shut up!” Wolf yelled at them, silencing everyone. Whatever Beryl had said had worried the Civitians. She just wished she knew why. “Now, get in your seats. I want to get out of here and find the rest of them.”
The group complied. Oly took the seat behind Beryl, the gun still pointed at her, though at least Oly was now far enough away that she couldn’t actually stick the weapon into Beryl. Vlad settled into the driver’s seat, with Wolf performing the same function behind Vlad as Oly did for Beryl.
Vlad pressed the start button and the ship’s engines fired on. At the same time, the ship’s speakers turned on, the familiar tones of Jimmy Buffett filling the ship.
“What the hell is this music?” Oly asked. “This is horrible. Turn it off.”
Vlad hit some switches on the Bird’s dash, which only served to increase the volume of the music. “Sorry, I can’t do anything about it,” he said, which Beryl knew was a lie. “Iris has it programmed to continually play, because she knows it’s my favorite.”
Beryl smiled.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t mind having to listen to Vlad’s crappy music.
*
Heming’s hammock swayed in the slight morning breeze. The night before, they had struggled to get him in it, with his broken ankle. Now, he didn’t want to get out of it. The sun had been up for quite a while, but Heming kept his eyes shut. He was not an early riser, though sleeping outside and the early rising sun were making it difficult to be anything but an early riser.
Heming listened to the birds and insects around him in the jungle, happy to hear them if it meant that there weren’t any other potentially deadly creatures around. Neither Iris nor Fawn seemed to be awake, though Heming could hear something smaller than a person near his hammock.
Heming wondered whether he should open his eyes and see what could be making the noise, but the idea that it might be something he didn’t want to see kept his eyes closed.
If he ignored it, perhaps it would go away.
Instead, Heming heard whatever was in the clearing come up to his hammock.
He sure hoped it wasn’t something that could kill him.
The animal sniffed around beneath him, then Heming felt its warm breath as it sniffed his hand, then his head.
And then whatever it was licked him.
Heming opened his eyes.
Standing next to his hammock stood Camp.
“What in the world?” Heming sat up in his hammock. The dog wagged its tail at him and Heming stroked his head. Fawn still slept in her hammock as it moved slightly in the breeze, as did Iris. Iris didn’t need to sleep, but she did go into some sort of sleep mode when away from a power source, to preserve her energy.
Heming got out of the hammock and walked over to Iris, waking her and then Fawn. Camp happily trotted behind him, greeting Iris and Fawn in turn.
“We have a visitor,” he said. Fawn wiped the sleep out of her eyes as Iris sat up in her hammock.
“Where did you come from?” Iris asked the dog, who wagged his tail at her. “And where are Beryl and Vlad?”
“I don’t think it’s a good sign that Camp is here without Beryl and Vlad. I rarely see him leave Beryl, and when he does it’s usually to do something with Vlad.”
Heming could easily come up with a dozen ways Beryl and Vlad could have gotten separated from Camp, and none of them were good.
“Heming,” Fawn said, ignoring the conversation between Iris and Heming, “how are you standing up?”
“What?” Heming replied.
“You. You’re standing up. Last night you couldn’t even put weight on your ankle and now you’re walking around like nothing is wrong.” As Heming spoke, he looked down at his leg. It felt like nothing was wrong with his ankle, but that couldn’t be true. Yesterday, the pain in it had been nearly unbearable.
“It works,” Iris said. The look on her face suggested she was both amazed and pleased with what she was seeing.
“What works?” Heming asked.
“Nothing.” Iris shook her head, as if they could all just ignore her comment.
“No, you have to tell us. What works? There is no way I should be able to stand, let alone walk around and feel like nothing ever happened yesterday. What have you done?”
“Do you hear that?” Fawn said, interrupting Heming.
“Dammit, Fawn, I’m trying to figure out why I am able to walk here. Iris knows something about this and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“We can figure that out later.” Fawn pointed at the sky. Heming reluctantly listened, and he could hear it as well.
The sound would have been familiar to anyone who had grown up on Columbina.
It was a Bird.
It was their Bird.
Beryl and Vlad had come back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Bird covered the distance between Whit’s compound and the location where Vlad and Beryl had left everyone else in almost no time. From the air, Vlad could see that the river next to which they had camped stretched from horizon to horizon, lazily meandering through the jungle. Several wooded islands dotted the wide river within their view.
The view made two things clear to Vlad. First, they had not traveled far from the compound at all before they had lost track of Whit. And second, Vlad had no idea why they had ever thought they could find Whit by wandering around the woods looking for him. From above, finding anything in the jungle seemed an impossible task.
“It’s over there,” Beryl said, pointing to a location upstream from where the Bird hovered. Vlad saw it then, a small clearing in the woods, next to the river. He could tell, even from a distance of about half a mile where they were, that there was enough space to land the Bird there. Iris must have cleared some extra room just for that purpose, assuming that he and Beryl would be returning without any issues. Heming was certainly too injured to have done it himself.
“I see it.” Vlad turned the Bird toward the clearing. He tried not to look at Beryl, whose red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks showed what he already knew—that she had spent the night crying. With the morning and the arrival of the people responsible for what had happened to Camp, though, the fire and fight had returned to her eyes.
With that fire and fight, Vlad knew Beryl was formulating some sort of plan and a way to get them out of this mess, though he was at a loss for any idea as to what that might be.
Vlad directed the Bird to the clearing, keeping an eye out for any sign of Heming, Iris, or Fawn. As he hovered the Bird over the clearing, the only sign he could see were their hammocks hanging in the breeze, as if they had been abandoned where they hung.
It seemed to Vlad that whoever had been using those hammocks had left in a hurry.
Wolf hung over Vlad’s shoulder, looking out the front window of the Bird.
“Someone has been here. I guess we know you are at least telling us the truth about where you last left them. That’s a good thing for you, Vlad. At least, it’s a good thing if you want to stay alive.”
Vlad scanned the woods around the Bird, hoping he wouldn’t see any sign of anyone they had left the day before.
And then Vlad saw it. A flash in the woods, like light hitting a piece of glass. He knew Beryl saw it as well, though when no one else immediately said or did anything, Vlad realized they were the only two who had seen it. It was, Vlad guessed, the light of the morning sun hitting a useless phone on someone’s wrist or piece of jewelry, and flashing back at them.
Vlad didn’t have to see any of them to know that Iris, Heming, and Fawn hadn’t left the area. He suspected that the three of them had only temporarily taken shelter in the jungle area they had cleared so that the Bird could land there.
They hadn’t abandoned the hammocks quickly because they knew there was something wrong. They had abandoned them quickly to give the Bird room to land and pick them up.
This was not good.
Vlad swore in his head. The Civitians had been right to bring the Columbinian Bird here instead of their own. No one on the ground would suspect anything was amiss with this situation, and why should they? This had been the plan all along—Vlad and Beryl would return with the Bird, pick them up, and take them back to Rediviva. Maybe it had taken longer than expected, but they had no reason to think the plan had been altered.
The reflected light hit Beryl in the eyes. He saw her flinch; her bound hand even tried to move up to her eyes, an unconscious movement that showed she had forgotten she was tied up. Beryl squinted, looking as if she was trying to send some sort of mind message to whoever was unintentionally flashing them with the light to stop. The light was hard to miss, making Vlad see why people had used that sort of thing as a way to send messages long before the communications equipment they now had.
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