A Broken Time

by Anna Oney

  “I want to come home,” the girl whimpered, grasping Fawn’s wrist. “Please . . . let me come home.”

  The pavement shifted beneath her eight-year-old self, moving the way curtains do when they are spread apart. A piercing light shot through the opening as the young girl sank below, disappearing behind the veil.

  A fizz fizz fizzzzz followed by muffled voices came from down the road. Fawn snatched Juniper’s reins and guided the horse down the slope, immersing them in the woods. Thirty-two yards or so from Lacing Switch road, Fawn stood beside Juniper behind a group of close-knit pine trees. Fawn tied Juniper’s reins to the tangled vines behind the widest tree.

  Three soldiers clothed in the same white camouflaged uniforms halted at the place she and Juniper had just fled. The bottom halves of the soldiers’ faces were covered with a thin, white material. One man pointed at the ground toward Juniper and Fawn’s prints in the snow. The middle soldier jabbed the barrel of his rifle downslope. The third man, who had a small build, shakily gripped his automatic rifle. The largest of the three raised a gloved hand to his shoulder and spoke into a walkie-talkie.

  Fizz fizz fizzzzz

  “We have something,” he said. “Suspect may’ve escaped during our attack on group two. Over.”

  Group two, Fawn thought, drawing an arrow from its quiver. Laken’s group?

  Fizz fizz fizzzzz

  “Be careful, Corporal,” a woman responded over the radio. “These savages can be brutal. Over.”

  Fizz fizz fizzzzz

  “Yes ma’am,” he replied. “Investigating now. Over.”

  The three soldiers inched their way down the slope with their rifles raised. Fawn darted from cover, taking six fleeting, light-footed steps toward the next group of trees. Any movement she made was masked by their heavy steps crunching through the snow. She repeated this strategy four more times until she crouched behind a tree about thirteen feet from the largest soldier.

  She nocked an arrow, pulling the trigger back to her anchor point. Inhaling through her nose, she guided the arrowhead around the tree, her eyes fixated on the largest soldier. She exhaled, releasing the arrow into his chest. A rattled gasp exploded from the largest soldier’s mouth as he raised a trembling hand to his chest and sank to his knees, falling face-first into the snow. She drew another arrow, releasing it into the middle soldier’s throat before his smaller comrade could think what to do.

  The last man standing stared at his dead comrades’ blood staining the snow. His hands shook as they clutched the automatic rifle cradled in his arms.

  “Drop it,” she said, stepping from cover. “And get on your knees.”

  The man didn’t hesitate to follow her commands. As his knees made a solid crunch in the snow, he pulled the cover from the lower half of his face.

  “Please, Fawn,” Vance said, holding up his trembling hands.

  Her mind drifted to the day outside of Back Wood, after the NWA had dropped the Red Rain on her community. She’d overheard the soldiers questioning Vance about who had jumped him. He hadn’t given her away. He’d held a hand to the side of his bleeding scalp, saying he couldn’t remember.

  “I left you for dead inside that Humvee back home,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell them it was me?”

  “I figured that was the least I could do, seeing as how I played a part in Back Wood’s eradication.”

  “Yes,” she replied, lowering her bow. “But you didn’t want to. Not really.”

  A wave of relief washed over Vance’s tense expression.

  “No,” he said, shifting on his knees. “I didn’t.”

  “What happened to groups one and two?”

  “The NWA ambushed group two thirty or so miles down the road. Group one,” he said and paused, swiping his forehead across his shoulder. “They jumped them in the woods. They left the dead where they fell. They’ve combined the survivors of both groups. Blythe’s been captured as well.”

  She shook off the emotion brought on by hearing Blythe’s name, and rolled her shoulders back.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You have any idea where they are keeping him?”

  “Brody and a couple of soldiers are in route to Stagecoach with Blythe now. Same thing will happen to your people when they are ready to travel.”

  “What’ll happen to them there?”

  “Crane will try to persuade your comrades to join her forces,” he said, his voice unsteady. “The ones who refuse will be executed.”

  “What about Blythe?”

  Biting his lower lip, Vance looked to the ground and shook his head.

  “They’ll make an example out of him,” he said, raising his chin. “The same way they did his father.”

  She envisioned Blythe’s face twisted in pain.

  I always knew.

  “I can’t let that happen.”

  “Nothing can be done for your people or for Blythe,” he said. “Surely you knew. You knew this was a battle you couldn’t win.”

  “There are forces backing me that you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, situating her bow over her back. “It’s nearly nightfall. Where are y’all camped?”

  “Close to where we ambushed group two. The dead were too many. The ground is littered with them.”

  “What’re my chances of infiltrating the camp?”

  “Slim to none,” he replied, coming to his feet. He stepped closer to Fawn, offering her his hand. “But with my help,” he said and nodded, “you’ll have better odds.”

  They shook on it, and then relieved Vance’s deceased comrades of their weaponry and stowed their bodies out of sight. Vance walked beside Fawn and Juniper through the woods. Their plan was to kill as many soldiers as necessary to free Fawn’s people.

  Once they came within half a mile of the NWA’s camp, Fawn tied Juniper’s reins to a low branch. She and Vance crept through the woods until they reached a good vantage point on top of a slope. They crouched behind a fallen tree. She turned off the safety of her stolen automatic rifle, which was also equipped with a built-in sound suppressor, and propped its barrel on the trunk. She peered through the scope. Some members of both she and Laken’s groups were surrounded by armed soldiers.

  The pain-stricken faces of Griffin, Fenton, and Laken caught her attention immediately. Fenton and Laken’s hands had been bound behind their backs, as had those of the two dozen others who sat around them. Griffin rocked slowly back and forth, cradling his arm that had been broken. Crimson blotches stained the snow around Fenton’s hip, suggesting he’d been wounded. A wound had bled through Laken’s clothing, around her left shoulder.

  Fawn’s breath caught in her chest as a little girl with blonde, braided pigtails, in a coral, knee-length dress appeared out of nowhere. A few seconds later, a white pit bull with a red collar appeared beside the girl.

  Vance’s eyes widened, and then he blinked in disbelief.

  “That girl, she-she wasn’t there before,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “What’s a barefoot little girl doing out in the snow? And in a dress?”

  “Joy,” Fawn whispered, resting a finger on the trigger guard. “Stella.”

  Stella’s tail steadily fanned the snow as Joy spoke up.

  “Excuse me, sirs,” she said, clapping her hands. “If you’ll look this way.”

  The soldiers who had their backs toward Joy and Stella slowly turned around. Four men at the far left scanned the area behind Joy, including the slope where Fawn and Vance hid. They ducked their heads behind the tree. Fawn held a finger to her lips, signaling Vance to keep quiet.

  “Little girl,” one of the soldiers said. Fawn imagined him raising his rifle. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Behind the veil,” Joy replied.

  “Veil,” the soldier repeated. “What veil?”

  The uproar of laughter at Joy’s expense caused Fawn to wince. The boisterous laughter was followed by multiple crunches in the snow. Fawn envisioned the soldiers stepping closer to Joy. Anxiety willed her
to sneak a peek over the tree trunk. It had been Joy and Stella who stepped forward. Fawn noticed three soldiers slowly backing away, while peering to the left and right. Something about Joy and Stella had unnerved them.

  Fawn’s lips curled into a smile.

  Y’all are right to be scared.

  “Should we start shooting?” Vance whispered beside Fawn. “The girl is defenseless.”

  “No,” she replied. “Your comrades. They are the defenseless ones.”

  “Per Father’s request,” Joy continued, breaking through the soldiers’ laughter. “I am to give y’all a choice.”

  “Oh?” another soldier said, cocking his head as he aimed his rifle. “Where’s your father now?”

  Joy scanned the treetops surrounding the campsite. She spun around in a circle and raised her arms, looking to the pale blue sky.

  “Everywhere,” Joy finally replied and sighed. “The army of The Faultless stand with me. You’re surrounded by Reapers just itching to deliver your souls to judgment.”

  A silence spread throughout the camp. Vance clenched his jaw and leaned forward, resting a hand on the tree trunk.

  “Is she serious?” he asked, turning toward Fawn.

  “Free these people now,” Joy said. “Or meet your Maker.”

  The soldier nearest to Joy fired his weapon multiple times at her chest. The whole of nature’s fury seemed to be released by Joy’s piercing scream. The trees surrounding them shook violently with the wind. The ground trembled beneath Fawn’s knees. Snow had risen three feet from the ground before crashing back down.

  Unphased by the gunfire, Joy slowly looked up from the ground. The only part of her that had been affected by the spray of bullets was her hair — her braids had blown behind her shoulders. One snap of her finger caused the soldier that had shot at her to fold into himself. A block of torn flesh mixed with splintered bone and shredded muscle left his comrades stunned.

  Fear set in, and fear was a sickness that spread through the brain, disintegrating a person’s ability to make decisions. Joy’s actions had limited the soldiers’ choices to two. Half of them laid down their weapons and sank to their knees. The other half opened fire on Joy and Stella, prompting Fawn and Vance to duck their heads.

  Once the shots had ceased, Fawn peeked over the trunk. Stella sprinted out ahead, running circles around each soldier who had a rifle raised. Every soldier that hadn’t surrendered swirled violently in a vortex Stella had created for each of them. One flick of Joy’s wrist sent the men’s twisted, mangled bodies flying several feet. Fawn peered through the scope of her rifle. The men on their knees stared at the snow, which was now stained with splatters of their comrades’ blood.

  Joy stepped forward, and with that one step, more than one hundred people of all ages and ethnicities appeared behind her. Joshua’s auburn waves, pulled back into a low ponytail, stood out to Fawn. Her son turned his head slightly and waved at her over his shoulder.

  “You know him?” Vance asked, shifting on his knees in the snow.

  “Joshua,” she said, coming to her feet. “He’s my son.”

  The soldiers cowered before the army of The Faultless, covering the backs of their heads with their hands.

  “I wish they hadn’t done that,” Joy said, addressing the soldiers. “I really do.”

  The soldier nearest to Joy tentatively raised his jaw to meet her gaze.

  “Who are you?” the man whimpered. Joy squatted before him, tipping her head to the side.

  “We’re the unborn children whose parents saw us as an inconvenience. The children born before our time. And the children who took fleeting breaths before being called home to meet our Father.”

  “What do you want from us?” the man shakily asked.

  “You must be hard of hearing,” she said. “I said to let these people go or meet your Maker. Since you’ve laid down your weapon, I assume you’ve surrendered.”

  The man nodded and cut his eyes to the snow. Joy stood up, looking from one soldier to the next.

  “Am I right in assuming the same for the rest of you?” she asked.

  “Y-yes,” most of them replied.

  Fawn heard a couple of them end their yes’s with ma’am, reminding her of Blythe and the day they’d first met inside her tepee. Joy turned and faced the slope where Fawn stood, and Vance crouched behind the fallen tree.

  “Fawn, if you’ll join us,” Joy said, waving a welcoming hand. “Bring Vance along, too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Fawn retrieved Juniper from the tree before joining Joy at the bottom of the slope. Joy’s lighthearted tone of voice, which Fawn had gotten used to, had vanished. It had been replaced by a dutiful, no-nonsense tone, laced with urgency.

  “There are some tasks one must do alone,” Joy said, looking Fawn sternly in the eye. “The Soothsayers have spoken. It is you who must set Blythe free. This is a part of your tale that has been written.”

  “How much time do I have?” Fawn asked, pressing her automatic rifle to her chest.

  “Not long,” she said, placing a hand on Fawn’s forearm.

  Fawn replayed the moment in her mind when Grandpa Tom had appeared outside of Back Wood’s walls. He’d frozen the soldiers within her community so she could help Marie, Fenton, Basiel, Dean, and Harland escape.

  “What about Grandpa Tom?” she asked. “He was able to help me back home.”

  “Borrowed Time has no place in this fight. I wasn’t kidding about doing this on your own,” Joy replied, gently squeezing Fawn’s arm before letting it go. “There’s no more time to borrow. You must go now.”

  Fawn slung the automatic rifle over her back alongside her bow and quiver full of arrows. She took a deep breath and mounted Juniper, exhaling. She pulled the picture of Gran from her pocket and handed it to Joy.

  “Give this to Uncle Griffin for me,” she said, peering toward her uncle, Fenton, and Laken. “It’ll lift his spirits. You’ll take care of the others?”

  “Father has granted your people passage behind the veil until the fight is done. They’ll be healed and have their memories wiped afterward. We’ll be going after the platoon that is seeking Davlyn and Dean’s group shortly.” Joy jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at Vance, who was tending to the wounded. “Vance will accompany us. This will be his chance to prove his loyalty. He’s already said he’s eager to redeem himself.”

  Fawn nodded and took hold of Juniper’s reins.

  “Vance,” Joy said, lowering her voice. “He doesn’t know it yet, but the Soothsayers say he’s destined to become the NWA’s new leader. A task that, no doubt, he’ll dread taking on.”

  “No doubt,” Fawn replied, chuckling lightly.

  “Before you go,” Joy said, looking Fawn up and down. “That outfit won’t do. You’ll need to stay under the NWA’s radar.”

  Joy pinched the bottom of Fawn’s skirt and flicked the heel of her boot. Gradually, Fawn’s boots, brown skirt, and off-white, long-sleeved blouse transformed into a hooded white uniform, matching the NWA’s winter suits.

  “Thanks,” Fawn whispered in awe, taking in her warm new attire. And Reesa,” she said, scanning the trees before returning her gaze to Joy’s. “What about her and Wakiza’s tribesmen?”

  Joy patted Fawn’s thigh.

  “In time,” she replied, smiling up at Fawn. “You’ll see.”

  Fawn pressed her calves to Juniper’s sides to start moving. An overwhelming sense of duty weighed her down as Juniper trotted forward. She alone had the task of freeing Blythe from the NWA’s clutches.

  ***

  Fawn rode Juniper through the night. They’d been blessed with a full moon to shine a dim light on their path through the woods. Every so often, a stray branch would brush or smack Fawn’s cheek, jolting her fully awake. By dawn, they had passed the halfway mark to Stagecoach. Since she’d been stripped of time, Fawn couldn’t fully appreciate the glorious sunrise that silhouetted and broke through the trees.

  Overexerting
Juniper was Fawn’s greatest concern. Both of them were exhausted. She had no choice but to push herself and Juniper harder than she ever had before. Blythe’s life depended on her. Midday, they came across a section of the woods where the sun had a clear view of the ground. The snow had melted, leaving a soggy patch of ground for Juniper to gobble down some matted grass. She cut Juniper’s lunch short, quickly resuming their journey to Stagecoach.

  They rode through the day without rest, until they were two and a half miles outside of Stagecoach. An ache in Fawn’s stomach surfaced. Again, she would have to make herself as small as possible. She’d have to leave Juniper behind. None of the soldiers rode horses. The NWA’s means of travel were their ATVs and Humvees. Fawn would look suspicious riding up to Stagecoach’s entrance on Juniper’s back, even in uniform.

  Fawn swung her leg over Juniper’s back and slid to the ground. Gliding her fingers down Juniper’s neck, Fawn came face-to-face with her dearest friend. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she realized this could be their last exchange. She was headed into enemy territory. The chances of she and Blythe both walking out of Stagecoach alive were slim. It’d take a miracle.

  She took hold of Juniper’s reins and led her to the oak tree two strides ahead of them. Once there, she pressed her forehead above Juniper’s snout, running her palms down the sides of Juniper’s face. She took a deep breath as she began choking up and exhaled.

  “This could’ve been it,” she whispered, brushing her cheek against Juniper’s hide. “Our last ride. Whatever happens,” she said, scratching behind Juniper’s ear. “I want you to know, girl. I’m at my happiest when I’m with you.”

  On her tiptoes, Fawn reached up and pecked the diamond adorning Juniper’s forehead. Her hands trembled as she loosely tied the reins to the lowest limb of the oak tree. If Fawn didn’t return, Juniper would at least be able to free herself from the branch with four good tugs.

  “I love you.”

  Juniper bumped her snout against Fawn’s shoulder as her mistress turned away.