Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Dani

With one handclasped over my mouth, another banded around my waist, I twist and writhe in the guard’s arm, screaming into his palm. Hands bind my ankles, swiping the floor out from under me, bridging me between the two of them. Through the dark hallway of cellblock B, they carry me toward the exit, following closely behind Ivan and Doctor Ericsson. Once through those doors, it’s only a short walk to the Ragers.

Oh, God, the Ragers!

To be burned, stabbed, shot is one thing. But thrown into a pit where I’ll be eaten alive is unthinkable. My breaths arrive hard and fast in a panic, and with snot gathered at my nose, and tears in my eyes, I can hardly suck in enough air. A numbness crawls over me, blanketing my skin, and I can only pray it’ll remain when the Ragers claw flesh away from my bones and sink their teeth into my muscles.

Maybe it’ll be quick. Maybe they’ll rip my heart from my chest, and I’ll die in seconds.

Still, I kick and squirm in the soldiers’ grip, desperate to get away. Even if they shoot me, trying to escape, it’s better than being fed alive to the monsters.

We breach the door, to where night has settled over the camp. The low hum of growls sets my heart beating faster, and our approach sends them into a frenzy. The clamor of them slamming at the fence beats down my spine in a terrifying rhythm.

An ice cold sensation settles in my chest, when Ivan grabs a staff with a sharp point that’s propped against the fence. At the opposite end of the yard, where fewer Ragers are gathered, he opens the door of the fence, prodding an approaching Rager with the stick.

I scream into the guard’s palm, sobbing.

My body flies through the air, until my spine collides with the dirt, kicking up the dust around me. Air blasts from my lungs, and I turn to the side to catch a breath.

That’s when I notice the smaller fence, fairly easy to scale at the other side of the yard that leads to the open desert.

A growl diverts my attention toward a mangled woman limping toward me, half her face scratched away. Three more block my path toward the low fence—all males, chattering their teeth in that terrifying click-click-click.

Laughter draws my attention toward Ivan, where he stands beside his father on the camp side of the barbed fence.

I push to my knees to crawl toward them, and a larger male, whose eyeball is missing from one of his sockets, steps in front of me, twitching and jerking.

I back myself toward the building’s wall behind me, scanning it for a window that I can break. Nothing but solid concrete. The heavy tromp of feet close in on me, a tight circle surrounding me, and I tuck myself into a ball. The unified movement draws the attention of others, who also circle around me.

I’m going to be eaten alive!

Screams rip from my chest, but they sound distant, not mine. They’re foreign. So terrified and helpless.

The Ragers hover over me in a sky of frightening faces staring down at me, swiping at me with their hands that knock me in the head. My leg is lifted into the air, and I kick out to no avail, waiting for the moment when teeth sink into my flesh.

The Rager throws my leg to the ground.

A sharp burn hits my scalp, and the gravelly dirt scrapes across my spine, as one of them drags me away from the others. Without looking at me, he releases me, and walks off. The growls intensify while the circle of Ragers move as a whole, keeping me in the center of their horde.

Swatting. Smacking. Growling. Chattering their teeth.

No biting, though.

As if … they’re not interested in consuming me.

A dull thud hits my ribcage with a sharp kick, blowing the breath from my lungs, and I curl into pain. Still, nothing pierces me.

Through a gap between their twitching legs, I scramble out from beneath them, toward the low fence in the distance. A Rager approaches, chattering his teeth at me, but quickly changes direction, off my path.

Another does the same, growling and swinging his fists wildly in the air.

I dodge his punches and keep on. Not a single bite marring my skin, that I can sense.

Dashing the final steps toward the fence, I leap into the air, clutching the chain links halfway up from the ground. A hand grips my ankle, yanking me. But the moment I turn to peer down at the female Rager, she releases me and stumbles off, twitching and chattering.

The horde begins to disperse, and it’s only a matter of minutes before Ivan and Doctor Ericsson will see my bloody remains aren’t in the center of it.

With trembles wracking my body, I scale the fence, and as soon as my feet hit the dirt on the other side, I want to crumble into a pile and sob.

I can’t, though. I have to keep moving.

The adrenaline surges through my veins as I hobble away, favoring my non-aching leg. Dry heat scorches my throat, and I race in darkness, toward nothing. I’ve no idea where I am. No idea where to go. A few hundred yards away from the fence, the growls behind me quieten, allowing me a moment to catch my breath, and Doctor Falkenrath’s words from earlier filter into the chaos.

The Juniper tree.

He said to keep the sun on my right shoulder, but there is no sun. There won’t be for another six, or so, hours.

The moon is high in the sky tonight, and full enough to offer the dark silhouettes of mountains in the distance. I could run for those, but the guards would surely search for me there.

To the right, is line of steel posts and razor wire that house trucks—I recognize them as the trucks used to raid the hives. The ones that brought us here. I scurry across the dirt toward them.

Those toward the front seem to face the opening inside the camp, where I’m guessing there’s a gate within the compound that allows them free access to the vehicles. There’s a gap between the razors attached to each strand of fence wire and the ground that’s wide enough for my body, if I don’t breathe. I lie down on my belly, resting my cheek against the dirt, and slide beneath the wires. A burn slides across my calf, and I clamp my eyes shut, silently taking in the sting of the cut, until I’m on the other side.

Voices reach my ears. Shouting. Scuffling of boots. The guards.

I scuttle the rest of the way beneath the fence and scramble under one of the trucks closest to the fence, tucking myself in the center of the undercarriage.

Vehicles fire up.

“There was nothing left of her! That’s impossible!” Ivan’s voice thunders along my nerves, and I have to screw my eyes shut, focusing on my silence. “Search every fucking inch of this desert! In the mountains! She couldn’t have gotten far.”

With trembles vibrating through my body, I lie still. I don’t move until the hush of quiet settles around me again.

And when there’s no other sound but my shaky breaths, I weep.

* * *

Dawn filters in,and I lift my head to the first faint beams that creep over the eastern mountains. East. Which means I’m to head north. On the few times my father took me hunting, I managed a small bit of navigation, in the event we were separated, or I was to walk home by myself. My father never shied away from the fact that any one of us could be taken, plucked right out of this life without warning, which might be the only explanation I have for wanting to survive.

My belly grumbles with hunger, and thirst leaves a raspy scratch at the back of my throat that I can’t seem to itch. Not a single drop of saliva in my mouth to coat it.

The trucks from the night before haven’t returned, and there’s a good possibility they might come upon me out here in the open desert. As anxious as I am to leave this place, I can’t just go. Not until I know it’s safe.

Or relatively so.

“You could hide inside one of the trucks.” The voice arrives beside me, and I let out a squeal before slapping a hand to my mouth.

Raymond lies on his belly to the left of me, looking out over the desert, as I had a moment ago. “There’s one leaving to deliver files and pick up supplies. Every morning.”

“What are you doing here?” I whisper through clenched teeth.

“They head north,” he goes on, ignoring me. “Perhaps ten miles from here. Which means you’d have to walk about another five after that.”

“How do you know this?”

“Studied it.”

My faces bunches to a frown, and I snap my head back toward the front of the gate, catching sight of the guard’s boots, where he’s been on duty most of the night. “How did you get past the guards? Or the Ragers? How are you here?”

“I know how to get around.”

I shake my head, burying my face in my palms. “No. I’m starving. I’m exhausted. I’m thirsty. You’re not real. You’re not really here.”

“True. But, then, I was never really here to begin.”

In the heat of the rising desert sun, my blood turns ice cold. “What?”

“I’m a hallucination, Dani. Yours, specifically.”

“You’re not real.”

“Nope. Hey, you mind if I light up?” He reaches down to his pocket, nabbing a pack of cigarettes.

“I’m crazy, then?”

“Kinda silly to ask me, don’t ya think?”

“How … would I know you? To hallucinate you.”

“I was one of the first files you read in Doctor Falkenrath’s lab, a while back. Probably don’t even remember it. I passed through the morgue before you arrived in this place. The experiments they performed on me made you sick. Probably not as much as my autopsy photos. You couldn’t sleep after seeing those.”

“Then, you’re a ghost?”

“No. Every word coming out of my mouth comes from here.” He points to my temple. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Oh, my God. I should just let them take me now. Run straight into the arms of the guard.”

“Can’t do that. Baby Wren is counting on you.”

“Wonderful. My hallucination comes equipped with built-in guilt.”

The tromp against the dirt snaps my attention from Raymond, toward the gate, where three sets of boots stand in a cluster.

“All gassed up and ready.” The deep voice is unfamiliar, carrying over the rattle of the gate sliding open.

“Where are the other trucks?” a second voice asks.

“Still looking for that girl. Ain’t come back yet,” the first responds.

The boots head off to the left, stopping at either side of a truck that sits kitty-corner from my hiding spot.

“I suggest you go now.” Raymond’s voice draws my attention back to the empty space where he sat just a moment ago.

On a rush of adrenaline, perhaps a little starvation, and a haze of slight dehydration, I slide across the dirt, keeping low, and cross the gap between vehicles, toward the supply truck. Both men sit in the cab, and the engine fires up, prompting me to hurry into the back of it. Pushing back the tarp, I climb over the gate and find a place to hide behind stacked boxes.

The truck lurches forward, then comes to a stop.

“You see that girl, radio in, and we’ll let the others know.”

“Will do. Although not much hope after twenty-four hours. Ragers could’ve swiped her up and taken her back to a nest.”

“If we’re lucky!” The guard chuckles, and two thumps echo inside the back of the truck. The tarp is peeled back, and I hold my breath, ducking down to avoid the sunlight peeking in. “You’re good to go!” the guard yells, and the truck sets into motion once again, the flap shielding out the light as the guard lowers it.

I exhale a shaky breath.

Whatever happens next is yet to be seen. Perhaps they’ll find me back here. Maybe they’ll shoot me on sight. Maybe I’ll have to fight them.

For now, I’m just going to breathe.

* * *

I peerout through the tarp, at the ground whipping by behind the truck. About ten minutes have passed since we left the compound, based on the minutes I’ve counted off inside my head, which I estimate is approximately the ten-mile mark.

I’m trying to decide whether, or not, to jump.

If I’m lucky, they won’t see me in the side-view mirrors.

The longer I stand here, the more I’m thinking this wasn’t a good idea. All around is open desert, with nowhere to hide, aside from a field of creosote bushes off in the distance.

“Raymond, what were you thinking?” I cringe at the words, praying my earlier encounter with him was nothing more than dehydration and starvation—two things that still plague my body, making me thankful for the shade of the truck. I’ve already rifled through the boxes—nothing but files. Patient files that I could hardly stand looking through. I don’t even want to know what’ll happen when it all comes crashing down. When reality forces me to look at the last few months, and I’m no longer hiding behind a daily dose of new horrors.

The vehicle comes to a stop, and I scramble backward, falling into my hiding spot behind the stacked boxes. Two slams of the door. Boots thudding across the dirt. The tarp peels back, and I duck lower, ensuring that I’m out of sight. The creak of the truck’s tailgate crawls down my spine.

“Hotter than two field mice fuckin’ in a wool sock,” one of the guards says, lifting a box that he hands off to the other. He reaches for a second box, and both men disappear. I count off the seconds, my muscles thin with tension, until they return.

Eighty.

Just over a minute.

They lift two more boxes situated toward the front. Four more, and they’ll discover me back here, so I have to pay attention. Be ready.

Again, I count off the seconds.

Ninety this time.

The guard stretches his arm over the gate, for the next round of boxes and I breathe through my nose to control my heartrate. The second they disappear, I dart out of my hiding spot, standing at the gate, where I can see their backs walking toward a building about twenty yards away.

I hop off the gate to the side of the truck and hold myself flat to the wall of it, waiting for their return.

Eighty-six. Eighty-seven. Eighty-eight.

A nearby thump tells me they’ve returned.

“Hey, you see the new kid they brought into S block? Bastard took out three Legion, when they held him down to tattoo him. Docs say he’s strong for the alpha gene.”

I concentrate on the close proximity of the guard’s voice and move a few steps along the truck to distance myself.

“Don’t know why they don’t just throw all those savage fuckers into a pit and burn them. Keep lettin’ ‘em breed, and we’re gonna have a war on our hands before we know it.”

“Don’t look so tough when they’re strapped to a bed screaming, after their balls been chopped.” Both guards chuckle, and a loud thunk rattles my nerves.

Hands clenched in fists, I wait, listening for the boxes that slide across the gate.

At the sound of footfalls against the dirt, I take off on a dead run for the creosote. Hot sand burns the soles of my feet, but I keep on, and the moment I reach the patch, I slide onto my belly.

Seventy seconds. From behind the creosote bush, I watch them set down the boxes and return to the truck. Any movement would alert them, so although the sand is hot against my skin, I lie flat as I can and wait.

The second their backs turn to carry the final boxes, I army-crawl backward, deeper into the bushes.

Movement out of the corner of my eye sends a jolt down my spine, as a black-spotted lizard darts out from beneath the bush. I slap a hand to my mouth, and while shaky breaths through my nose keep me from screaming, I clamp my eyes shut and pray the men will soon leave.

* * *

At least an hour passes,I can no longer tell. I stopped counting seconds the moment the men sat on the back of the gate, lighting up cigarettes and tipping back silver flasks of something.

I lick my lips, so parched and dry, it’s a wonder they haven’t cracked off my face altogether. The sun beats down on my shaved head, blistering it with the sweat that beads across my skin. I’m surprised there’s any water left in me to sweat out.

Finally, the guards close the back of the tailgate, hop into the cab, and take off.

Once I can no longer see them down the dirt road, I push up from my hiding spot and cross the sand toward the warehouse. Maybe there’s water inside.

My mind longs to tease out why they would drop supplies off here, in the middle of nowhere. But I’m too exhausted. So desperate for food and water, I’m giving serious thought to going back for that lizard I saw earlier.

A heavy chain links the doors of the warehouse, held by a thick lock. I wriggle the lock, but it’s no use. The solid doors won’t budge, and it probably doesn’t matter, anyway. The only things in those boxes were files.

Glancing up, I check the position of the sun, relative to the dirt road ahead. Doctor Falkenrath said it’s a three-hour walk, with the sun at my right shoulder. From here, I estimate another hour—which isn’t impossible.

With the full force of the sun, though, it won’t be easy, either.

* * *

Fatigue settlesdeep inside my bones.

The edges ahead flicker as if they’re moving, vibrating in front me like a pool of water up ahead. I stumble along the dirt road, angling to the side with a bout of vertigo that sends me stumbling into the hot sand, and I right myself again.

“Man, it’s hot out here.”

The voice draws my gaze to the side, and I whimper at the sight of Raymond walking beside me.

“I’m … fine. I’m not … crazy. I know you’re a hallucination.”

“Does it matter out here, if you’re crazy, or not?”

“What do you want? Why do you keep showing up?”

“Would you rather be alone?”

No. Even if it makes me insane to talk to a hallucination, it’s a comfort out here.

“This is … a bit longer than you … estimated.” The heat and exhaustion leave me breathless and woozy.

He glances up toward the sun, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Have you been paying attention to the sky? You’re a little off track.”

My muscles sag under the weight of defeat and fatigue, as I peer up.

The sun has moved position over my left shoulder.

“Oh, no. Where do I go?”

“Sun’s high. Not quite noon, though. Maybe ten? You left the warehouse at about eight, right?”

“I don’t even know. I don’t care anymore. I just want to lie down and sleep.”

“You can’t lie down. Wren is counting on you.”

“I don’t even know if it’s a girl.”

“Listen to me, Dani. At noon, that sun is going to become intense. You’ve not had food, or water, in over twenty-four hours. Backtrack. You need to go south and slightly west.”

A tearless sob chokes in my throat, my shoulders so weak I can’t even stand upright. I turn around, as he says, and slam the heel of my hand to my temple to rub the ache there. My head feels heavy, throbbing with pain. “Will you stay with me?”

“For a little while,” he says and jerks his head, taking the lead in front of me. “C’mon.”

For over an hour, I stumble behind him, tripping over my feet, which seem to sink with every step, like there’s quicksand beneath me. My knees begin to buckle, the dry air so thick it burns to swallow.

“Ray … I need to rest. I’m too tired.”

“The tree is just ahead. I can see it, Dani.”

“You’re lying.” My chest thumps with the tears that refuse to fall. “You’re lying to me!”

“I’m not lying. Look.” He points ahead, to where I can just make out the twisted bend of a tree, hunched over itself, as if it’s been knocked to the side.

Pangs of hope blossom in my chest, and I stumble forward, falling to my knees, and push myself up, taking three more steps, before I fall again. Over and over, I fall and order myself up again, until my hand catches the bark and I hold on to the tree. Rounding it brings an opening into view, and tucked inside the trunk is a small pack.

Scrambling to my knees, I tear into the bag and find a small bottle of water. Not enough to rehydrate me entirely, but enough to stave off the faint feeling that’s threatened to pull me into blackness. A small pack of crackers also sits inside the pack. It takes mere minutes to devour them. It’s a pathetic meal, but enough that I’m no longer dizzy.

Strewn about the cracked dirt surrounding the tree are small blue berries, some purplish-red, and I lift one, studying it. The poisonous plants that my father always pointed out were silver leaf nightshade and castor bean. Nothing like these berries. I pop one into my mouth, and a tart, pine flavor explodes across my tongue.

Bitter, but satisfying enough.

I gather a handful of them into my palm, eating a few as I collect them, until my palm is full of berries.

Bent forward, I look around inside the hollow trunk of the tree. It’s deceivingly more spacious inside, and I climb in, over the small roots sticking up from the dirt, beside the pack. Breathing easier than before, I enjoy the shade while I snack on the berries, my gaze raking over the inside of the tree.

I notice a carving—a name with the date etched beneath it. I search the ground beside me and find a sharp stone, perhaps used by the owner of the name. Into the wall of the trunk beside me, I carve my own name and run my fingers over the permanent grooves in the bark, but even that seems to take effort. With the cool bed of dirt calling to me, I lie down, curled into myself, and succumb to the heavy weight of exhaustion.

* * *

Sharp spikesof pain strike my abdomen, twisting like blades deep inside my body. Arms wrapped around myself, I curl into a tight ball, squinting my eyes with each pulsing muscle contraction.

A cold sensation swells in my chest, and I open my mouth to vomit, but nothing comes up. Sweat has broken out across my skin, which has turned much more pale than before. My head feels as if I’ve been spinning too long, too fast, and all I want to do is close my eyes, but the pain won’t let me sleep.

Throb after aching throb radiates from the center of my belly and into my limbs in a never-ending assault, like a war has broken out inside of me.

The agony brings me to tears, and I open my mouth a second time, to nothing but a gag.

My body trembles, rattling that sickness inside of me, and I clamp my eyes shut, certain that I’m dying.

* * *

“What have you done?What have you done!”

The screaming draws me out of drowsy sleep, and I open my eyes to see Raymond, pacing back and forth outside the tree. The dusk creates silhouettes, but his voice is unmistakable.

“You again?” The weakness in my voice hardly carries, not that it matters. Raymond isn’t real, after all.

“You killed her! You killed Wren!”

Frowning, I push myself up to a sitting position, and flinch at a dull cramping deep inside my belly.

A pool of blood surrounds me. Not a speck. Not a splash. A pool, sapped into the dirt.

“You ate the berries. You weren’t supposed to eat the berries!” The panic in Raymond’s voice corresponds with the tightness in my muscles and the realization that he’s right.

I crawl toward the mouth of the tree, but my arms feel like noodles, so weak and useless, I tumble forward, chin knocking into the unearthed root below me.

“You’re weak, Dani. You’re going to die.” Raymond’s grim tone echoes in my ear, as my view shrinks to a pinprick.

I blink to the sounds of a growl and chattering teeth.

Kneeling just outside the tree is a Rager, dragging her hand through the dirt and licking her fingers. Feeding on my blood. A hard thump beats over top of me, juddering my muscles. A growl. Another hard thunk draws my attention upward, where something is slamming the trunk of the tree above me.

The growls intensify, and I snap my attention back to the one eating my blood. As she crawls closer, my mouth opens to a weak scream, and I will my legs to kick her away, but they won’t move at my command. A cold hand grips my ankle, tugging me out of the tree, and as much as want to fight and claw to get away, all I can do is let it take me.