I spot Finn two feet away, pushing up to his knees and he’s got a fist clenched at his side, lifting it up and up.
Then, I grasp that I’m about to have a one-on-one battle, within a battle, within a war and yet, I’m left with a sense of gut-wrenching treachery, mystified as to why Finn is doing this. I want him to stop so I can ask him. Why is he attacking me? Why is he betraying me?
My bottom lip quivers.
I hurt.
Tormented in my heart and physically in my chest.
My arms go up to block his swinging hammer of a fist but I’m too late. He drives his knuckles into my temple and the thud is sickening inside my head.
Yes, I’m a nearly invincible Kinder, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be hurt…and this hurts like hell. I see black, then a flash of dazzling rainbow colors as I scream for him to stop, trying to get away. I need a second to think, to process, then I can fight back.
He doesn’t give me time.
Time.
While everything around us moves as if it’s nearly frozen, time is the only thing I need, but it’s the only thing I can’t have.
Finn grabs me, rough, strong hands digging into my arms as he slings me onto my back and uses his knees to pin my shoulders to the ground.
“Stop!” I scream. “What’re you doing?”
He’s breathing heavy. His grin is smug and self-satisfied. He says, “Winning the war before it starts,” as he pulls a silver flask, about the size of a playing card, from a pants pocket. “Open your mouth.” He unscrews the cap.
I scream, telling him to get off me, as I wiggle and squirm underneath the weight of his body, trying to break free. I swing my legs up and try to wrap them around his head. When I fail, he punches me again and I grow dizzier than before.
Finn uses my momentary disadvantage to jam the flask’s opening into my mouth.
Gagging, coughing, I swallow some and then spit what remains in his face.
He uses a sleeve to clean his cheeks and chin, tosses the flask to the side, and as he’s pushing himself up and away from me, he says, “You probably swallowed enough.” Then, he wipes his hands as if he’s congratulating himself on a job well done.
I jump to my feet and get myself into a fighting stance. I’m too dizzy and woozy to rush him.
I’ve felt anger before, but never a level of rage as strong as this, coupled with bewilderment and a ragged, raw sense of betrayal. I growl, “What was that?” as I feel my legs wobble underneath me. How time hasn’t resumed it’s normal pace, I don’t know, because I certainly haven’t been focusing on controlling it.
It has to be Finn. He hid that ability from me. Of course he did, just like everything else.
The traitor.
The Judas.
“What was that?” I say it louder, angrier.
“Officially, it’s called AKS-127. Anti-Kinder Serum, and from what I’ve been told, they got it right on the one hundred and twenty-seventh try.”
“What’s that mean? What’s a… What’s a serum?”
He smiles.
I bellow, as loud as I possibly can, “What did you do to me? Why?!”
Before he can answer, the first Tunguska bomb detonates and the ground shakes slowly beneath our feet. It’s a weird sensation, listening to the eruption try to claw its way through the minimal, nearly motionless passage of time.
The serum… It’s… My legs… I can barely feel…
Finn says, “If you can run, pawn, you probably should.”
The word “traitor” falls from my lips and he laughs. “I trusted you.”
“I guess you learned your lesson, didn’t you? I’ll tell you what… I’ll give you thirty seconds to save yourself. You can’t help them anymore. You want to stay out of chains, you run. You want to live to see tomorrow, go.” He holds out his hands, palms up, and tilts his head to the side. “Your choice. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven.”
The second bomb detonates. Finn ducks and laughs.
I hear the noise of the explosion warbling and waffling as the earth subtly shakes again, the vibrations crawling underneath my boots.
I... I should stay and fight him. I have to try.
But can I?
I lift an arm and try to make a fist, but already I can feel the difference in my body. It’s an absence, like I was whole and now I’m not. I feel empty, cold, as if he reached inside my heart and removed my soul.
I am vacant. I am drifting through a void. I am hollow.
I no longer feel the strength of the Kinders coursing through my veins.
I am lost.
We, the PRV, have lost.
I have been deceived and I can do nothing about it.
The serum has stolen more than my heritage, the gift—or curse—that Ellery had given me. It has stolen the only thing I had left: hope.
My legs move, pulling me backward and away from Finn. I retreat between two of the tanks, my bottom lip uncontrollably shaking now, but I won’t cry. I’m holding on as hard as I can.
I will not cry.
Finn says, “Twenty-four. Twenty-three. Go, Caroline! Don’t make me change my mind. This war isn’t for you anymore. Twenty-two.”
I take one last look at the boy who thought himself man enough to take everything from me. I don’t know how, or when, or where, but I’ll show him what a mistake he’s made.
Revenge.
My legs feel like they’re running, but I can’t be sure. The further I move away from Finn and the burning tanks, the longer the poison slithers throughout my body, the muddier my mind becomes. I’m not thinking clearly. Not at all. It’s like trying to open my eyes underneath the murky river water back home where I could only see a foot in front of me. Right now, it’s as if I can only think a foot ahead.
My mind is blank. I flounder and flail through the hovering raindrops. They gently caress my skin and then scamper down my cheek once they touch.
I don’t know where I’m going. I’m moving on instinct. I have a sensation of danger nearby, but I can no longer remember what it is.
Something breaks free within me—this sense of self-preservation—and I’m able to force my legs to move faster, and I go, go, go in the direction of whatever is in front of me.
Is it safe out there?
I don’t know.
Where is there?
Chapter 20
While I dream, it feels like I’m drifting through the ethereal world for days. I’m in a quiet forest, but the falling leaves, thousands of them, are the color of blood. When I step along the forest floor, red squishes up between my bare toes. The earth is soaked with it.
Red. Red everywhere.
But at the same time, it’s peaceful. I hear music.
It feels like this is what happens after the end.
I’m alone.
Am I dead?
I have no one to ask.
I drift and I drift, walking aimlessly as if I’m looking for something, or someone, but I don’t know what or whom. I’m burdened by a subtle sense of urgency but I can’t remember why.
I arrive at a clearing in the forest. This place—it seems familiar.
Yes, I know where I am.
This is where my encampment used to be. There are no signs of life. No signs that a group of people once lived here, no remnants of structures, and certainly nothing that would make me call this place home again.
It’s nothing but an empty field, void of everything that used to be a part of me, and again, blood squishes up between my toes as I step through the tall grass.
Boom, boom, ba-boom.
The drums. Those horrible, horrible drums.
War is coming.
Or is it already here?
I can’t think clearly.
I’ve had dreams before where I couldn’t run like I wanted to. Running on solid earth felt like I was trying to gain speed under water.
That’s what my mind feels like now. I’m thinking through mud—the heavy silt in a riverbed.
/> What’s happened to me?
Why am I here?
Boom, boom, ba-boom. Boom, boom, ba-boom.
I look to the north, in the direction of Rafael’s Ridge, and I can sense the fear crawling across my skin. It has hundreds of tiny legs, scrabbling along, fighting for a way inside me. I shiver and I shake, trying to get it away.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. I scream, jump, and spin around. There’s no one there, but the gripping sensation remains. Each fingertip presses into muscle, squeezing, nudging me. I twirl around and still no one.
It happens again. Something is pulling me from behind. Tugging at me gently like a finger in a belt loop; a small child trying to get my attention. I’m pulled away, the dream world turning a hazy gray, drifting, drifting and then blackness.
I open my eyes. Awake. I’m aching in every spot in my body.
A voice. Hazy.
“Caroline?” it says. “Caroline, wake up.”
“Huh? Wha…” It’s light out, barely. Dawn, maybe. My eyes have yet to clear, but I can see the light gray of cloudy skies above me, poking through the forest canopy.
“Caroline, what happened?”
Another shake of my shoulder and I startle upward, eyes clearing, when I see a familiar face. A large head, giant bushy beard, and the jet-black, wild hair of a roving Republicon.
“James!”
He smiles as I throw my arms around him, squeezing his neck. Standing in a half-circle around us is Marla, Squirrel, Big Blake and Little Blake, and some of the others. He pulls away, puts his hands on my cheeks and asks, “Are you okay?”
I can’t stop crying. I’m so happy to see him. Everyone else, too. “No. Or, maybe. I think so. I’m hurting everywhere and I… I don’t know how I got here. Why’re you here?”
James stands and pulls me up with him, gingerly, cradling my arms as I try to regain my balance on weakened legs. “We never left,” he says. “We couldn’t abandon you.”
Squirrel says, “Yeah, we wanted to help.” His tone is harsh, almost accusing.
Marla adds, “You got us free from those blackcoats. You’re part of the reason we’re alive.” She sounds the same. Almost angry.
It’s then that I notice James is bleeding from a wound on his neck. Marla has a gash above her right eye. Big Blake’s clothes are tattered and bloody. The others look weary and exhausted. “What happened?”
James shakes his head. His eyes soften. “It’s not good, Caroline. We tried to help. We stayed behind to fight for you if it came to that, but they, um… They were too strong.” His voice cracks with the last sentence. “Your people never stood a chance with you gone.”
It comes rushing back to me. Rushing through stopped time to plant the Tunguska bombs. Finn tackling me, forcing that liquid into my mouth.
Finn mocking me. Finn betraying me.
And then, I ran.
I don’t know how I got here. I remember running across the battlefield and then, nothing but thick, soupy darkness.
I abandoned my people. Even if Finn poisoned me and stole my abilities as a Kinder, I should’ve stayed. I should’ve fought.
“Are they—” I ask, but I can’t get the words out. The lump in my throat won’t allow the rest of them to escape.
“Maybe a thousand dead. Probably more. They kept maybe a hundred behind—the ones who tried to fight—they’re being forced to bury the dead on the field. We escaped before the blackcoats could notice and put us in chains too, but the rest of your capital… All the citizens are on the march.”
“Oh, no.” I can’t stop my lip from quivering. What happened to my parents? Did they make it? Are they in chains? Are they digging graves or lying in one under mounds of dirt?
“Caroline,” James says, brushing the hair back from my forehead. “Were you scared? It’s okay if you were. We all get scared, especially when there are guns and tanks and—”
“I’m not a coward,” I interrupt, grinding my teeth. “I’m not a Kinder anymore. I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t know how I got here.”
“What?”
“Finn did it.”
“Did what?”
“He’s a traitor. He gave me this liquid and made me—made me normal again.”
“No.”
The lump in my throat recedes, replaced by boiling anger, and my words pour out in a jumbled mess. “The entire time, he’s been with the blackcoats. I was trying to get the bombs on the tanks and he stopped me, then he shoved this—this flask into my mouth and it was filled with some horrible liquid. It stole my powers and I couldn’t think straight, and he was laughing at me, told me to run. And then, I don’t… I don’t know what happened. I woke up here.”
I can see the look of relief on James’s face. “We thought you deserted.”
“I know how it looks, but it’s the truth. I can’t—my powers are gone.”
“Have you tried?”
“Well, no,” I say, glancing down at my hands, as if they have an answer to my problems. “But I feel different. Empty. The warmth that I had before is gone.”
“Try.”
I know it’s useless, but concentrate on the hands of a clock, focusing with everything I have, and nothing happens. I squat and I jump straight up. I lift inches off the ground, if that, then I land with a dull thud on the mushy forest floor.
“I told you.” I survey all the expectant faces around me, like I’m about to say or do something profound. I have nothing for them. “I have to go find my parents, dead or alive,” I say.
I step around James and nudge between Squirrel and Marla.
“Wait,” James says. “We’re coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” My shoulders lift, then fall with a defeated sigh. “It’s over. There’s nothing left to do.”
“Don’t say that.” James follows me, matches my pace, walking side by side. I look up at him. It’s only been a day since I’ve seen him last, but I’d already forgotten how tall he is. He looms above me and I have to crane my head back to see him. “We can do something.”
I snap, “Like what, James? You said it yourself, it’s over.” I hear footsteps behind us. A quick peek reveals that the rest of the Republicons are trailing along. I want to tell them to go home, wherever that is, that following me now will bring nothing but a swifter end. “I’m not a Kinder anymore. I can’t do anything. If they’re not dead, they’re in chains, and the only thing I have left in the world is my parents—if I even have that. Now, you can come help me find them and be done with it, or you can leave now and save yourselves before some blackcoat soldier has you marching north with a rope around your neck.”
James doesn’t say anything. He exhales through his nose, frustrated, but he continues to follow me.
I must have gone at least a mile into the forest before I passed out. We walk and we walk.
It’s raining, like it always does, and I can smell the musty scent of sopping wet earth and drenched leaves on the forest floor. The tree trunks are green with mossy overgrowth and drops of water drip from sagging limbs whenever we bump into them. The air feels cool on my cheeks and it reminds me of the thousands of other times I’d worked my way through the woods back home, hunting or scouting. I’m so far away from whatever that was—my life—but yet it feels so familiar.
I used to see the world as a place to explore. There would always be somewhere I wanted to go or something I wanted to see. The Elders told so many stories of magnificent places where rivers fell from great heights and structures climbed so high in the sky, you couldn’t see their tops, like a mountain hid by low-hanging clouds.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to get out of my little encampment in the northernmost point of the PRV and go see something, anything other than the same trees, the same paths, and the same rocks on our land.
Now, I want nothing more than to go back to that.
Maybe I can. I get a glimmer of an idea. If I can find Mother and Father, if they’re not dead, buried, or marching n
orth to work in the DAV factories, maybe we can wait on the army and the slaves to finish their long walk to their new home, then we can return to our old one, undetected. Once the DAV has all of the forced help they need, what reason would they ever have to come back south?
That’s it. That’s what I’ll do. As long as they’re not dead or wrapped in chains, I’ll find my parents and we’ll go recreate the life we had.
It’s all I have left. It’s all I can do.
James says, “We’re almost there.”
“I know,” I say. In the distance, I can see the clearing opening up.
“When we get to the battlefield, you might want to…”
“Might want to what?”
“I don’t know what I was going to say. It’s bad, Caroline.”
How bad could it be? I’ve seen death before. On our retreat back to the capital, I had too many die under my care.
Then, once we get past the final line of sentinel trees guarding the edge of the open space, I see what he’s talking about.
A thousand bodies, if not more, are scattered about in various twists and turns of lifeless limbs. Eyes open, staring up into the falling rain. It’s crushing, and I keep expecting them to blink as if they’re alive. All they do is stare at something overhead, like maybe they’re looking up into Heaven, trying to find the staircase leading upward.
I don’t have the words. My legs feel weak. They give, buckling at the knees, and when I fall forward with my hands on the ground, next to a body, a red, muddy goo squishes up between my fingers.
A horrible dream come to life.
Chapter 21
A fly crawls across the open eyeball of a dead soldier and the sight of it makes me sick to my stomach. As if the dead body I’m face to face with isn’t enough, the fly is too much. My guts clench and I retch, emptying what little I had in there onto the ground. I quickly push myself up and away. I back up a few steps and yelp when my foot lands on an outstretched arm.
When I risk a look, the scene gets an additional dose of weight, of realness, when I recognize the face of Ellie Tilson, the blonde runner. She’s flopped across the young soldier who’d given me the Tunguska bombs from the supply cart.
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