Firstlife Page 11

  I pump my arms faster, taking the lead, leaping over the next bomb and dragging Bow with me. When we reach the bottom of the incline, heading toward a densely populated forest, I stop looking for explosives and start praying I accidentally trip one. A burnt body is a warm body, and right now the cold feels like a thousand needles pricking at my skin. Shudders begin to rack me, one after the other, barely a pause between. My teeth chatter. Snot trickles from my nose and, like my tears, freezes.

  "What's in the pack?" Too much to hope for a battery-operated heat lamp? At this point, I wouldn't say no to fetters.

  "Essentials" is all she says. The temperature hasn't affected her in the least. She isn't shivering. Her teeth aren't chattering. Her eyes and nose are free of tears and snot, and there's no hint of blue on her lips. How is that possible?

  We reach a bank of tall, thin boulders. In the center, two lean against each other, forming an upside-down V--creating a doorway. There's an enter-at-your-own-peril vibe. Where are we?

  I release Bow and slow down. "Got to take...a minute to rest. Not sure...how much...farther..."

  "No, no. We can't stop," she says. "When I left the asylum, every guard inside was gearing up to come after us. And there were a lot of 'em! An entire army was training in the underground levels."

  An entire army to elude? Zero!

  Can't risk capture. I draw from a reservoir of strength I didn't know I possessed and soldier on, tripping past the rocks. Icicles are extended like swords and cut at my face, but it doesn't matter. Even the needle-prick sensation is fading, my skin numbing.

  "Do you...know where..." My foot catches on a fallen branch and I tumble, landing in the snow and dirt face-first. Bow helps me stand, and I realize the "branch" is actually a leg. A human leg.

  Hank, the kid Killian punched his first day at the asylum, is sprawled on his back. He's motionless, his eyes glassed over with a sheen of ice. His skin is the color of the morning sky I've missed so much, and there are crystals protruding from the end of his nose.

  Bow crouches to place her hand over his heart, not to feel for a beat, I don't think, but to...mourn a lost life? "Light Brings Sight," she whispers to him. "May the Everlife reward you for your kindnesses during your Firstlife."

  Her words humble me. Life is precious to her and yet, fifteen minutes ago, I ended one.

  My guilt returns.

  Her gaze brims with sadness as it meets mine. "He's in the Everlife now. Let's keep you out of it." She straightens and draws me deeper into the forest.

  Where did Hank go? Troika? Myriad? Many Ends?

  Bow turns a corner. She seems to have a destination in mind, and I'm glad. My thoughts grow hazier by the second, and my eyelids are heavy. Fatigue settles in my bones.

  "Keep up," she commands. "We're a two-man team. Do your part."

  Right. My part. But every step adds another pound to my feet until they are too heavy to move, and all I want to do is... "Nap," I say. At least, I think I say it. I can no longer feel my lips.

  "No! No sleeping." She winds her arm around my shoulders to hold me up. I expect the heat of her body, even as little of it as there is, to warm me, but...no. There's only cold, cold and more cold. "Just a little bit farther."

  My head lolls forward, my chin hitting my sternum. I manage another step, then another, counting as I go. One, two, three...all the way to one hundred and fourteen, before I begin to fall...fall...

  "No!" she shouts. "Snap out of it, Ten. Stay awake."

  Sorry, I try to say. There's an explosion of black inside my head, and it's lights-out for me.

  *

  The ground shakes, waking me with a jolt. I jerk upright and gasp out, "Four!"

  The sound of my voice startles me. So does the number. Four?

  The number of directions I can go. North, east, south and west.

  Four elements. Earth, water, fire and wind.

  And in my song: Five times four times three, and that is where he'll be.

  A bead of sweat trickles down my temple. I'm sweating? Last thing I remember, I was morphing into a Popsicle. I wipe at my brow, the action setting off a domino effect, which ends with a terrible ache in my temples.

  Grimacing, I scan my surroundings. I'm not sure what I expect to see. I only know this isn't it: a cave smaller than my cell at the institution. In front of me, a fire blazes, throwing golden rays of light over rocky walls that are splattered with...dried blood? Paint? Bow's backpack rests at my feet.

  "Bow?" My voice echoes, but there's no return greeting.

  She left, clearly, but she didn't take the backpack with her. Why? Where could she have gone? How much time has passed since I fainted?

  The entire cave shakes again as I dig inside the pack. Another battle between the realms taking place nearby? "Essentials" consists of a digital notepad, a necklace with Troika's symbol, a tank top and pair of jean shorts, a pair of combat boots too big for my feet, six cans of buffalo wings probably taken from the staff lounge and a bottle of vodka.

  Mostly useless!

  But can I really get mad? Those cans... I'm so hungry, absolutely starved. I open and devour the contents of one. Only one, and only for strength. I resist the temptation to eat the other five. So freaking good! Bow needs nourishment, too. Dang it, where is she?

  I switch on the pad, hoping to find a note or something to point me in the right direction. I'm not disappointed. In strong, bold calligraphy, I see:

  Ten,

  You naughty snoop. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist taking a peek. Good for you. Knowledge pays. Eat, write the world's most depressing poem, count rocks or whatever it is you like to do, but stay in the cave. If other inmates are out there, I'll find them and bring them "home." Don't worry. I've got Troika on my side!

  Light Brings Sight!

  Instead of signing her name, she's drawn a picture of a man holding a bow and arrow. An archer.

  Her name is Bow, I once said to Killian.

  Bow, he replied. An archer uses a bow and arrow. How adorable.

  And then, when I lay on the floor of Vans's torture chamber, Killian and Bow had argued, and Killian had called her Archer.

  I shake my head to dislodge the confusing memories. Can Bow find and save any of the other inmates without aid? Well, human aid. Maybe, but not likely. Not only must she face the elements and the guards, she must convince the kids to trust her.

  So. Yeah. I have a poem for her.

  I am alone.

  Never will I believe

  You care for me

  The truth is

  Having faith in you is foolish

  I don't think

  My well-being is your first priority

  I know

  We'll protect each other

  Is just silly. I believe

  Remaining on my own

  Is the smartest course of action

  Staying with you

  Is the fastest way to Firstdeath

  Walking--no, running--away from you

  Won't be easy, but I'm willing to do it

  And I know that

  We're better off together

  Is a lie. For I'm certain of this:

  I am alone.

  Two sides. The read down, and the read up. The negative and the positive. For once, I'm leaning toward positive. Bow needs me. There's always strength in numbers.

  I use the scalpel to cut the tank top into multiple strips of cloth, then wrap the strips around my feet and exchange my regulation sandals for the boots. I return the scalpel to my pocket, then double-check to ensure it's there. As my only weapon, it's priceless.

  Okay. All right. I push to wobbly legs, blood rushing out of my head, making me light-headed, even dizzy. I wobble as I make my way to the opening of the cave. Before she left, Bow set up a drape of leaves and twigs to seal me inside, and she did a very good job; I have to fight my way free.

  Morning sunlight greets me, and oh, wow, it's gorgeous--but it means I slept the night away. A first since my i
ncarceration.

  Unfortunately, the air is so cold none of the ice has melted from the terrain, and my muscles instantly protest, knotting up. At least there aren't any guards around or booted footprints in the snow.

  "Bow!" I shout. If I draw unwanted attention, I draw unwanted attention. The faster I find her, the better. "Bow!"

  Eerie quiet taunts me, broken only by the occasional whistle of wind.

  "Bow!" As I make my way forward, a storm erupts in my chest. The thunder of my heartbeat, followed by a downpour of acid, scalding everything in its path. What if something's happened to her? I'm certain the guards aren't our only worries. Any surviving inmates could have ambushed her, thinking to loot her belongings. Or worse. An animal could have mauled her.

  A twig snaps. I stiffen. "Bow?" This time, her name is little more than a whisper.

  A brute of a man steps from the foliage--along with two of his friends. They are Big, Bigger and Biggest, and they are covered in grime. I can overlook the grime. Each man has something I desperately want: a coat.

  I hope they speak English. I hope they're friendly. But I don't count on either.

  Still, I try to barter. "You hungry? I'm willing to trade a can of chicken for a coat." More than fair.

  The one in the middle licks his lips--and I'd bet it's not at the thought of dining on chicken.

  Self-preservation instincts scream, Run!

  I'm about to do just that when a violent gust of wind nearly sweeps me off my feet. Worse--or better--Bigger's coat blows open, and I catch a glimpse of chopped pink hair. Bow! She's clutched against his beefy chest, unmoving, and my heart shudders with fear.

  Judging by the leer the men throw my way, I can guess what they want from two lone girls, and it's not witty conversation. I know the odds of defeating them suck. Three brutes against one wily scrapper. At least six hundred pounds of muscle against one hundred and five pounds of me.

  "Did you hurt her?" My words are gritted.

  Biggest grins, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth. "We capture escapees for doctor." His accent is thick and Russian. "We take back to asylum...but not before we have fun."

  Now Vans's hidden door makes a whole lot of sense.

  "Come nicely, girl." Big. "We have fun with you, too."

  "No harm." Bigger. "Unless you misbehave."

  No harm, my ass. I free the scalpel from my pocket, hiding the glint of metal behind my arm. My teeth chatter, and the goose bumps return to my skin. "Counter offer. You drop the girl and walk away, and I won't harm you."

  Bigger and Biggest guffaw as Big's eyes flare with glee. He likes a challenge. Noted.

  Big moves toward me, and I realize I'm not the only one hiding a weapon. There's a wicked-looking dagger clutched in his hand, but I hold my ground...hold...

  There's no other way to save Bow.

  The closer he gets to me, the more his excitement grows. Literally.

  He swings at me, aiming for my shoulder. If his punch lands, it won't be a deathblow, but it'll make me scream.

  Now! I duck, avoiding impact, and slam my scalpel deep into his femoral artery. I may not remember everything from my human anatomy class, but I do remember the smallest nick to the femoral can be fatal.

  He bellows in pain, blood spurting from his leg. As he crumples to his knees, I try to roll out of the way, but he manages to tangle his fingers through my hair and yank me to my back.

  His friends step toward us. He holds up his free hand--the one with the dagger--stopping them. Then he gives me a cold smile...and strikes.

  This time he's serious, and he's mad. His target? My heart.

  I suddenly see the merits of Troika's way of thinking: being led by emotions can do more harm than good.

  I raise my arm to block the blow, and the blade slices through my wrist, coming out the other side. Pain consumes me in a brutal flash, stars glittering behind my eyes, dizziness overwhelming my mind. I fight to remain conscious. If I pass out, I die.

  The color in Big's cheeks is draining fast. He teeters back and forth, close to passing out, too. But first, he wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes. No! I swing the scalpel at his throat, but he bats my arm away, nearly dislodging my already bruised shoulder.

  Come on! As I buck and flail against his hold, he only tightens his grip. The stars behind my eyes are replaced by spiderwebs of black. This can't be it. This can't be the end. Here one second, poof, gone the next. I didn't survive Vans's torture just to be strangled on a mountain.

  "You want my help, lass?"

  I recognize that gravel-and-smoke voice, that seductive Irish accent. Killian is here! In an instant, joy consumes my fear.

  "Lass?"

  I can't speak, can only nod.

  It's enough. He says, "You'll want ta let her go, lad. Consider this your one and only opportunity to walk away. After this, you won't even be crawling."

  I can make out his silhouette. He's tall, but he's not as tall as the brutes. With three against one, he could get seriously hurt. Or worse! I don't want him hurt.

  "You leave before too late, boy," says one of the brutes.

  "Wrong answer."

  Suddenly I'm free, Big ripped away from me. Gasping for breath, I scramble to my feet, ready to fend off Big before he's able to pin me again, but I find him on the ground, his eyes closed, a pool of blood forming around him.

  Killian is focused on the remaining brutes. Whatever he did to Big scares the other two greatly.

  Bigger drops Bow to the ground. "She yours. Take, take."

  A small gasp leaves the girl. She blinks open her eyes as she struggles to sit up. One second...two...she proves unsuccessful, as if her body has turned to stone.

  "Malfunction," she manages to grit out.

  Bigger and Biggest hold up their hands, palms out, and take a step back.

  I race forward, but Killian beats me to Bow's side. He raises his arm, his own dagger glinting in the sunlight, and angrily meets my gaze. "These men are Unsigned, which makes them your brethren. Is this really what you want for your life? Do you wish to spend eternity with them?" I expect him to throw the weapon at the brutes--but he says, "Show her who you really are, Archer," before slamming the blade deep, deep into Bow's chest.

  TROIKA

  From: A_P_5/23.43.2

  To: L_N_3/19.1.1

  Subject: Ten, Ten, Ten Bow is toast. The inferior Shell malfunctioned, allowing the Unsigned to overpower me, and Killian to stab me.

  Speaking of the worst spirit in the Everlife, Killian has the girl all to himself right now--and that's the good news. She's intrigued with him, just like--never mind. I can see it in her eyes, and I know any attempt to keep the two apart will only make the intrigue stronger. How would you like me to proceed? What have I been cleared to do?

  Archer Prince

  TROIKA

  From: L_N_3/19.1.1

  To: A_P_5/23.43.2

  Subject: Your Capacity to Forgive Is Humbling You need to let go of your anger with Mr. Flynn. Miss Lockwood was right. It wounds you. And if you aren't careful, one day it will wound innocents.

  I'll send you another Shell. As generous as I am, I'll even send one from your personal collection.

  And yes, you're right. Finally! Attempting to keep Miss Lockwood away from Mr. Flynn will do more harm than good, but try to remember that Mr. Flynn is his own worst enemy. He'll destroy her intrigue all on his own. After all, pushy people get pushed, and Mr. Flynn's actions will speak for him. Let yours speak for you.

  Her grandmother has spoken with the Generals and, because Ten has admitted she needs help, you have permission to help her through any means necessary--unless, of course, the girl dismisses you. Unfortunately, we still can't stay where we aren't welcome.

  Also, watch your six...or rather, your ten.

  General Levi Nanne

  TROIKA

  From: A_P_5/23.43.2

  To: L_N_3/19.1.1

  Subject: Does Every Moment Have to Be a Teaching Moment?


  It's annoying.

  Anyway. I'm getting through to Ten, I know I am. And yet she's still drowning in a sea of doubts, unwilling to trust her own instincts. If she won't grab hold of the life raft I've thrown at her, we ARE going to lose her.

  I've grown to like her. I don't want to lose her.

  TROIKA

  From: L_N_3/19.1.1

  To: A_P_5/23.43.2

  Subject: Prepare for Another Teaching Moment I remember the day Miss Lockwood was born and the uproar it caused in the realms. She absorbed and released so much Light our monitors were blinded. You remember the day, too; you simply weren't told why such a bright light cut through our realm. Myriadians claim she glowed so brightly because she was Fused with one of their Generals. Though they also claim to love the darkness, they want our light. They always have.

  And I know, I know. Miss Lockwood isn't exactly glowing right now. Darkness shrouds her. But we don't give up, Mr. Prince. Ever. And while we have permission from the Generals to do what needs doing, Miss Lockwood's will comes first. What she accepts from you, give. What she rejects, try again another way. If she won't grab hold of your life raft, throw her a rope. If she won't grab hold of your rope, throw her a branch.

  TROIKA

  From: A_P_5/23.43.2

  To: L_N_3/19.1.1

  Subject: I Really Hope...

  I'm not this irritating to Ten.

  chapter eight

  "Fear is the enemy at your back with a knife to your throat."

  --Troika

  I'm numb with shock as much as cold. Killian--the boy who saved me from Vans and potential rapists--just stabbed Bow in the heart.

  Killian just stabbed Bow in the heart!

  Rage peeks through my numbness. Sorrow bulldozes through it.

  One blow. One life--now gone?

  After everyone Killian killed at the asylum, I should have seen this coming.

  He spits on Bow before turning to the giants.

  As I dive on top of the girl, hoping to protect her from further harm--can't be too late, just can't be--hoping there's some way I can save her--too late, already too late--the mountain men realize Killian has just relinquished his only weapon.