by Chris Babu
“Pull!” Charlie yelled.
They groaned and grunted. The tree tilted further.
Charlie screamed and dropped the rope before grabbing his lower back. “Holy shkat! Oh man, my back. Ohh.”
Eugene and Sid rested their hands on their knees, watching him with concern. “You all right, bud?” Eugene asked.
Charlie bent over with one hand on his knee and the other on the crook of his back. “Yeah, I’m great,” he squeaked. “Feels like my spine burst out of my butt and curled up and stabbed me in the back. Other than that…”
“I think Sid and I can wrap this up. Why don’t you go rest?”
“No,” Charlie said. “One more humongous pull—I think we got it. I’ve only got one more tug in the tank. Let’s do it.”
They gripped the rope, Charlie’s face twisted in anguish.
“On the count of three,” Eugene said. “One, two, three!”
They pulled with everything they had. With snapping sounds, the tree started falling.
“Go!” Sidney shouted as they scattered.
The tree fell slowly at first, then rocketed down, slamming down onto the distant shore with a crackling boom. It bounced a few times before settling. The roots formed a disc of soil around the bottom of the tree, like the base of a tipped-over wine glass.
“Woohoo!” Eugene clapped. He pumped his fist at Drayden. “That’s all you, Dray!”
Drayden returned a thumbs-up. Despite the sun and warm air, he was still chilled from the river, which was odd. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding, but the wound was open and the cheek bruised. It hurt. Now, in addition to the cut on his throat from Lindrick, he had another potential infection to worry about.
Some of the tree’s branches dipped into the river, straining and bending under the force of the rushing water. Otherwise, their bridge looked pretty solid.
“We gotta move.” Eugene yanked off the rope and wound it up. “I’ll go last. Don’t get all fancy and walk. Too many branches, too easy to slip. Scoot across on your butt.”
“I’ll start.” Sidney mounted the tree as if it were a horse and scooted out over the water.
Drayden draped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You okay?”
He stood hunched over, grimacing. “Yeah, I’ll be all right.” He carefully climbed on after Sidney.
Catrice regarded Drayden with sorrowful eyes and followed Charlie.
“You’re up, chief,” Eugene said.
The others moved at a snail’s pace, with Sidney in front, dictating their speed. Scooting inches at a time, they were deliberate around branches, which demanded some gymnastics to negotiate.
“Aww shkatnuts!” Charlie shook his hand in the air. “Watch out for the sap!”
Drayden mounted the tree at the base—the bark angular, rough, and choppy. It scraped the insides of his legs each time he advanced. After a few feet, he was above water and he paused to watch it race by, so powerful and violent. He resumed and a moment later his hand landed in a patch of slimy, sticky sap.
The sweet smell of pine wafted through the air.
He recalled the wilderness training from the scientists, in which Sam had mentioned some of the extraordinary properties of sap, also called resin or pitch. One of them was to treat wounds. It had antiseptic, antibacterial, and astringent properties. It could stop bleeding and could even treat skin rashes.
Drayden scooped some on his finger and slopped it onto the cut on his cheek, which burned as he rubbed it in. He slipped some more beneath the bandage covering his throat wound.
Mature sap would cake into an amber glob, which had myriad other uses, from medicinal to starting a fire. After several more feet, he saw some. It was as close as Mother Nature came to supplying you with a tool kit in the wild. The pieces were gummy, and Drayden picked off as much as he could, dropping it into his pocket.
He was more than halfway there. While scurrying across wasn’t difficult, passing each branch was a tad unnerving, particularly for someone clumsy. In some cases, he could swing his leg over, but others required him to stand up. If he slipped and fell into the water now, there would be no saving him. He’d be dead. More than anything he was exhausted and freezing. Ever since he’d fallen in the water.
Sidney and Charlie had successfully crossed, and Catrice was close. Eugene was right behind him.
As Drayden reached the end, Sidney snagged his arm and guided him off the tree top.
Eugene hopped off moments later. “Let’s not waste any time. We gotta move out.”
“Wait!” Drayden blurted. “Any chance you can toss that tree into the river? You know, so the Guardians can’t follow us.”
“Hmm.” Eugene appeared to consider it. “It’s probably way too heavy.”
“I realize I’m not much help,” Drayden said, “and Charlie is out of commission, but can you give it a shot, Eugene?” He nudged Sidney. “Can you help him?”
The two stood on opposite sides of the treetop. “On three, Sid. If we can lift it, go toward me. One, two, three.” He grunted and pursed his lips.
The tree didn’t budge.
Eugene straightened and arched his back. “Nope. Not even close. C’mon guys, let’s go.” He jerked his rifle out and led the way down Route 6. The others followed, except Drayden.
Sidney turned back, cocking her head. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” He was pondering something. Whenever Eugene strained himself, he glowed red and his neck tendons bulged out. That didn’t happen this time.
He didn’t really try to move the tree.
He was faking it.
CHAPTER 21
It was dusk, the blue hour, in Bourne, Massachusetts.
The group hiked beside the narrow canal they should have sailed through before their final stretch in the Atlantic Ocean. Route 6, which ran alongside it, neared its conclusion, where they would turn north on Route 3.
“This is Sagamore,” Drayden said, referencing his map. “It’s part of Bourne. We’re finally done with Route 6. Roughly fifty miles to Boston. We should set up camp.”
Charlie flung a pebble into the canal. “I’m gonna sleep like a baby who’s milk-drunk.”
“Let’s head off the road,” Eugene said, “just in case we’re being followed.”
You made sure that was possible, didn’t you, Eugene?
Drayden wished he knew what the Guardians were up to.
It was all forest here, with no buildings in sight. They walked fifty feet or so into the bramble until they found a modest clearing. Everyone collapsed to the ground.
The only other time Drayden had been this tired was during the Initiation. His throat was sore, exacerbated by his coughing. “I don’t think anyone has energy to try and find food,” he said. “Let’s eat what we have. How about a slice of bread and a pear? Leaves us with some food for tomorrow.”
“What about Eugene?” Catrice asked.
He hung his head low. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“You’ve done most of the heavy lifting,” Sidney said. “Everyone tear off a piece of their bread for him. Here, you can have my last apple.” She handed it to him.
“Thanks, everybody.”
Drayden ripped off a piece of the crust for Eugene. He wasn’t giving the money part to the guy possibly stealing his girlfriend and secretly assisting the Guardians.
Catrice tore off half her slice, handed it to Eugene, and plunked down beside him.
After eating, Drayden coughed again—a barking cough. His chest felt like it did when he swallowed too much water in the school’s pool. They called it being “waterlogged.” He continued to feel chilled, and the temperature was plummeting.
Charlie poked him. “You okay, bud?”
“Yeah. I think I may have caught a cold falling in that river.”
“I
’ll swap your cold for my back pain,” Charlie said.
Drayden pulled out his paperclip and battery. “I guess we’re all a little banged up. I’m freezing too; I want a fire.”
Sidney piled up some sticks and leaves, the brush dry and cracked from the scorcher of a day.
Drayden performed his sorcery and the kindling ignited. He dropped the paperclip and battery into his pocket, too exhausted to put them back in his pack.
Sidney gathered whatever leaves she could find, scattering them over the forest floor. “Even though it’s not a bed, it’ll be more comfortable than lying on the hard ground.”
“Thanks, Sid,” Charlie said. “My back thanks you as well.”
After peeing in the bushes, Drayden positioned his backpack to use as a pillow and laid down. He couldn’t help but wonder where Catrice would sleep; if she’d finally make the big leap and stay with Eugene.
Nevertheless, she stretched out next to him, her head on her backpack. She wrapped her arms through his without saying a word and closed her eyes.
Sidney craned her neck and made eye contact with Drayden, shaking her head.
What the hell was Catrice’s deal? Maybe it was what Eugene had said, that she indeed liked him, but was scared she would be hurt. Or she was having trouble deciding between him and Eugene, who had revealed himself to be a bit more brutal—more “Guardian”—in the past day.
Plus, nobody else had caught Eugene’s deceit, and Drayden hadn’t told anyone. It was possible he’d misconstrued the whole episode about Eugene pretending to lift the tree. Because otherwise, the guy had displayed an insane amount of loyalty to the privates. He’d risked his life multiple times to save them. Still, that was all part of Drayden’s problem with him. He was too damn perfect, as if it were an act, playing a part. He was always strong, generous, sensitive, compassionate, and smart.
Regardless of whether they could fully trust Eugene, they couldn’t complete the journey without him. Tomorrow he would let Charlie in on his little secret, and they would keep a close eye on him.
Drayden’s sinuses had become hot and stuffy, adding to his list of unfortunate symptoms. He wished his mother were here to take care of him. She’d religiously tended to him when he fell ill, like the time he became deathly sick from an infected cut. Even as he grew older and independent, he found nothing more comforting than his mother caring for him when he was under the weather. She’d dutifully put her children first, especially Drayden, her neediest kid.
That was, until she didn’t. If she were here, he could also ask her what the hell she’d been thinking, having that affair. Suddenly putting her own needs ahead of her children’s, getting herself exiled in the process. She would never be there again to take care of him when he got sick, because she’d been too busy thinking about herself.
Drayden groaned. His post-nasal drip irritated his throat, making it difficult to breathe. He turned on his side, facing Catrice. Why did she have to make things so difficult? They’d been on cloud nine together after the Initiation. As angry, disappointed, and embarrassed as he was now, he still liked her…which pissed him off.
Being close to her face, every contour perfectly structured, reminded him how lucky he was to have landed her in the first place. She was exquisite. On that basis alone, she was way out of his league. She was not out of Eugene’s league on looks, however. Drayden felt he needed to continue proving why he was worth
her time.
He kissed her forehead. Still a tiny spark.
Phlegm.
That was Drayden’s first thought when he awoke and hacked up a thick green glob of the stuff. He felt awful. Sore throat, dull headache, congested chest, and he was freezing. He gulped water from his bottle, cringing when he swallowed.
The others roused. The morning air was cool, with a slight breeze.
Charlie moaned as he sat up. “Did anyone accidentally stab me in the back overnight?”
“I’m so hungry,” Sidney mumbled.
Eugene yawned. “We should try fishing again this morning. We’re pretty close to the ocean.”
Drayden pulled his maps from his pants’ pocket. “This Scusset Beach is about a mile away. We could get lucky and—”
Gunshots rang out.
“Get down!” Eugene screamed.
Bullets whizzed by, splintering trees.
Everyone lay flat on their stomachs. Eugene arched up and pumped deafening rounds from his rifle, each discharge booming.
Catrice curled into a ball, covering her ears.
“Where are they?” Charlie lay on his back, Glock in hand.
Eugene craned his neck and squinted. A flurry of bullets flew over his head and he flattened. “Somebody’s straight ahead.”
Charlie rose to his knees and squeezed out a dozen rapid-fire shots in that direction, a staccato series of pops.
“Get down, Charlie!” Drayden shouted.
He noticed movement, then a camouflaged man darted from one tree to another on their right.
“Over there!” Drayden shoved the maps into his pocket. With a quivering hand, he aimed his pistol and fired five shots.
Something sailed through the air and landed in the middle of their group.
A grenade.
“Eugene!” Catrice shrieked.
In one motion, he snatched it up and backhand tossed it into the woods, curling into a ball. “Cover!”
An earth-shattering explosion showered them in dirt.
Sidney, her face flushed crimson and filthy, propped up on her elbows. She aimed her rifle in the direction of the grenade-thrower. “I can see your foot, you flunk,” she mumbled before firing one shot.
The Guardian screamed and unleashed a flurry of bullets at them.
Everyone lay as flat as they could, arms over heads, feeling the blazing wind from the bullets.
Catrice’s eyes were crazed. “Eugene, what do we do?”
“Grab your weapons. Get ready to run that way, six-o-clock!” He glanced south. “I’m gonna cover you with heavy fire. I think they’re at twelve and three-o-clock. On my mark.”
Drayden holstered his pistol and readied his rifle. He stuffed his pockets full of ammunition and took his flashlight, which was at the top of his pack.
“Someone hand me a loaded pistol,” Eugene demanded.
Drayden drew his, jammed in a fresh magazine, and passed it to Eugene. It was no use to him anyway.
Eugene slung his rifle over his shoulder, kneeling up a bit with pistols in each hand.
A hail of bullets from multiple directions pummeled them.
Eugene dropped to the ground again on his stomach. “Dammit. We gotta get out of here. It could be a trap. One of them could be waiting to the south, hoping to pick us off if we run that way.”
Charlie stuck his arm in the air and fired off a few rounds in the Guardians’ direction.
“Run, and I mean run,” Eugene said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get out.”
Drayden questioned how they could escape without being shot. It seemed impossible.
Catrice was as pale as a ghost.
“I’ll go in front,” Drayden said. “I’ll fire my rifle in the direction we’re running in case someone is back there.” What he lacked in skill he did not lack in bravery. He would not let his fear get the best of him.
“On three.” Eugene cocked both guns. “One…two…three!” He jumped up, firing steady rounds simultaneously right and straight ahead.
Drayden leapt to his feet and bolted south. He pointed his M16A4 rifle straight ahead and pumped round after round.
Bullets whizzed past and ripped into the trees around them.
He expected the searing pain of a bullet in his back or legs at any moment. Sprinting through the throbbing in his ankle, he powered straight into thorn bushes and low-hanging branches, getting scratch
ed and whacked. A little farther and they might be safe. “You guys behind me?” he shouted without checking.
A chorus of “yeah”s replied.
They reached Route 3 and turned left, heading north.
Drayden peered back. “Where’s Eugene?”
“Go, go, go!” he yelled from out of sight behind them.
Drayden didn’t slow until he was about to vomit. They must have run a half mile. He was wheezing, his breathing a strained whistle and his lungs on fire. He doubled over, on the verge of fainting.
Eugene caught up, red-faced and sweating. “Let’s go, into the woods!” He darted ahead and took a sharp right off Route 3 into the thick forest.
The privates followed. After a hundred yards or so, Eugene squatted. “Everyone get down.”
Coated in sweat and panting, they went belly down on the leafy forest floor. The heavy brush kept them out of sight.
“Quiet,” Eugene whispered.
Charlie scowled. “Those pieces of shkat.”
“Quiet, Charlie!” Eugene whisper-yelled. “We have to hide for a bit.”
Drayden’s heart was racing. The Guardians had tried to kill them. He always knew it was a possibility. Even so, he couldn’t believe it.
The group remained that way, frozen in silence, for a solid ten minutes. They waited for voices, or for the Guardians to run past. Nothing happened.
“Is everybody all right?” Eugene handed Drayden’s pistol back.
“We’re fine,” Drayden said, holstering it. “How about the Guardians?”
“I think I hit one of them in the foot,” Sidney said. “I hope it was that Duarte guy.”
“What about you?” Drayden asked Eugene. “You get any of them?”
“No.”
CHAPTER 22
Sidney was in tears. “We lost everything.”
“Almost,” Drayden said. “I still have my maps, and I was too tired to put my battery and paperclip away last night. Got my flashlight too.”
He tried to put a positive spin on it, but an already desperate situation had become dire. They had no food or water. Drayden viewed the map, struggling to navigate the crew through the woods to Route 3a. It ran parallel to Route 3, closer to the coast. It rejoined Route 3 a little further north, and lengthened their journey a tad.
