Chapter 11

She kept the fire going that night and let Old Man Frypan rest on the rock closest to the flames. When it was just the two of them left, awake in the middle of the night, Sadina could finally ask some of the questions she felt too silly bringing up during the day. "If Newt wasn't immune, what makes his family blood so important? Why not Thomas, or Chuck, or . . . you?" She snapped a thin piece of firewood and tossed it onto the flames.

"That's a good question." He stretched his back and looked up at the stars. "Newt was always special. The kind of special you didn't need to look at nobody's blood to see."

"They chose everyone they studied back then for a reason, right?"

"They had their reasons." The ancient man rubbed the back of his neck. "We're all our own curse and we're all our own cure. I don't pretend to understand science, but if you ask me, humans are a lot like these trees . . ." He looked to the woods and then pointed to the cut branches in Sadina's hand. "Trees have a root system that goes down deep into the earth as wide and vast as their branches above the earth. Often, the roots branch out to weave into other trees. Deeper and more complex than the palms on our island back home."

Sadina looked around. She had never thought about roots being intertwined underground. "Ah. There's too many of them planted here so they fight for their space underground?" She was proud, thinking she'd figured out Frypan's latest parable, that being overcrowded meant there wasn't enough room for everyone to grow as tall and strong as they might if they had more space.

"No, it's quite the opposite."

Sadina felt deflated a little, then proposed the opposite idea. "So . . . the more trees around, the stronger and better they'll grow?"

He gave a single nod. "Exactly. See, out here, the more trees that grow together, the better they protect each other from the wind or a big storm. And forests with different types of trees grow better than a forest of just one species." He pointed across the woods behind them as if to count the variety. Other than the times on the island when storms had blown through hard enough to uproot a couple of palm trees, Sadina hadn't thought much about species of trees or their roots. It wasn't her thing. She almost felt bad stacking the cut firewood onto the flames but the colder nights required more warmth. Plus, the fire kept the riff-raff away, as Dominic said. Ever since his bee sting or ant bite, he'd gotten a little soft to the elements.

"How'd you learn so much about plants?" Sadina asked, but as soon as the question left her mouth she knew. She shook her head. "The Glade."

"Yep. There were a lot of trees in the Glade." Frypan nodded and the fire popped. "And from watching the trees we could see that when one got cut or sick, it healed itself. But it wasn't truly healing itself. The other trees connected underground to send nutrients to the one in need. The root systems are complicated."

Sadina watched Old Man Frypan speak. She was in awe of how much he knew about so many things. Living in the Maze must have been awful—truly awful—but she appreciated him sharing what he had learned there with her.

"Why didn't we learn about this in school?"

He let out a sigh with just a hint of a laugh. She liked that, even if it was because she asked a dumb question. "Island school is for island life. Not enough variety of topics to expand your horizons."

"Only in the Glade." She examined the forest and imagined all those trees connected underground, sharing nutrients with each other as if they held hands through their roots. This made her think of Trish. Maybe she just wanted connection, to fix the parts of her that needed healing. Not every person, or tree, had a love like that—Sadina was lucky. She studied Frypan, who didn't seem tired at all. "You know what, you're the smartest person I know." Sadina smiled.

"Well, that doesn't say too much with the characters around here," he joked. "Nah. A lot of brains in these people. I've just had more life experience being my age." He handed Sadina another block of wood.

"My mom is educated. But she's also very stubborn. And her stubbornness gets in the way sometimes." Sadina still thought about that night when they left the amphitheater and poisoned everyone on the island to escape. Why couldn't they just tell them the truth, that it was Sadina's choice to leave and to donate her blood for whatever higher purpose? She loved her mom, but if Sadina were on the town congress she'd have done things much differently. It felt like only damage could result from how they'd left things on the island, like the flames that grew in front of her.

"Smart people tend to be stubborn," Frypan agreed. "They know what they know and they don't want to know what you think you know." He chuckled. "But that's why I think the trees can teach us a thing or two. Nature doesn't need science. Nature does what it does. It's people who need science to understand nature."

She thought that people needed science to understand nature. If her blood was something special that Kletter had searched the whole world for, then maybe she didn't need to understand all the hows and whys of it. Maybe she just needed to trust in nature and let nature do what it was going to do. Could it be that simple?

Jackie, Trish, and Miyoko helped carry armfuls of palm leaves and branches aboard the ship. If they'd learned anything from their first adventure on the boat it was this: Jackie did not have the stomach for ocean travel and they could have used something to work the boredom out of their days. Miyoko had the idea to braid and weave palm leaves into mats, blankets, hats, and bowls. Or for Jackie: a puke bucket. Not like they planned to show up in Alaska looking like a bunch of islanders wearing palm hats, but something about the idea of weaving while sailing put Sadina at ease. At the very least, it might keep her hands busy to distract from her anxiety.

The closer they got to boarding the ship, the more intense Sadina's nerves got, because despite Minho's drive to find the Godhead, he actually knew very little about who made up that trio. Every time she asked him, he just repeated the same thing, The Godhead is not what you think it is. Whatever that meant. She didn't have enough thoughts about what made up the Godhead to even have an opinion about what it was or what it wasn't—that's why she asked. Letti and Timon had seemingly known just as much about the Godhead as Minho—absolutely nothing.

WHOOMP . . . the horn of the Maze Cutter blew louder than any noise Sadina had ever heard a man, animal, or machine make. Except maybe the Grief Walker. The vibration of sound shook her bones as it reverberated within the ship's deck.

"Dominic!" Miyoko turned to look for him, but he stood right behind her, a little dazed, himself.

"Wasn't me!" he protested.

"Sorry everyone . . ." Minho poked his head out of the Captain's room. "I'm just adjusting everything to get all the knobs and whistles figured out."

Miyoko glared at him. "Yeah. Take your time. And make a note, that one you just hit was the horn." Dominic laughed.

"Thanks." Minho looked around at those on the deck and the disassembled camp on the beach below. "Everyone ready to go soon?"

Sadina carried her last sack of belongings down into the cabin. "I'm ready." She handed her sack to Trish. It was the original pack she'd brought from the island plus a few items she'd collected along the way. Rocks that were sparkly, a stick she used to poke the fire every night, and the special piece of wrapped metal Isaac helped her create on the temporary forge.

"You're ready?" Trish asked as she set Sadina's pack beside her own on the cot.

"I'm not ready ready, but that's the last of my stuff." She wasn't looking forward to the seasickness and the cold nights out on the ocean without a fire to keep them warm. She knew the road—or the waters—ahead were bumpy. They went back up to the deck.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Dominic patted Minho on the back. "Captain."

"Where's Isaac?" Sadina asked. She didn't see him in the cabin or on the deck. She looked over the railing and found him still on the beach with his pack standing next to Sadina's mom and Old Man Frypan. "Isaac, same sleeping spots as before! You're downwind of Dom. Sorry." She waited for a laugh but he only looked to Sadina's mom as if it were up to her what he should do.

"Can everyone come here for a moment?" her mom asked. Trish followed Sadina off the boat.

"Stricter rulers for the trip," Trish whispered, but Sadina had no idea what her mom was doing. Some kind of proper bon voyage send-off or prayer on land? One by one Jackie, Dominic, Miyoko, Orange, Roxy, and then finally Minho—a little peeved—walked off the ship and joined them on the beach.

"What?" Sadina asked her mom. Everyone had gathered now but she still wasn't saying anything. Something was off. She looked at Isaac. Was he sweating?

"We need to talk about the trip."

Minho adjusted the gun strap around his shoulder, and for the first time Sadina felt nervousness coated in fear, not anxiety. Something was definitely about to happen. Sadina looked to her mom for support but she appeared more tired and defeated than when Wilhelm and Alverez died.

But she finally stepped forward and stood straighter. "I have an announcement. I wanted to wait to share until we were all . . . ready."

"What are you talking about?" Sadina snapped at her mother, like only a daughter could. Her mom's stance and body language only added to the fear. "What's going on?"

"I'm so sorry, Sadina." Her mom looked at her as if she were supposed to know what that meant. Sadina turned to Isaac but he just stared at the ground. "I won't be traveling to Alaska with you all." She avoided her own daughter's eye contact.

Sadina froze, top to bottom, with a stunned sickness. Then she began to tremble with anger and hurt.

Words poured out of her. "What's the point of a vote if you're going to make your own rules as you go, Mom? We voted. Majority wins. We're going to Alaska. All of us." She tried to be verbally cutting as she spoke.

"It's not because I don't want to go, but Isaac and I have decided—"

"Isaac?" Sadina's torment shifted to her old friend. What in the hell was going on? Isaac's only response was to look at Sadina's mom as if he wanted her to give an excuse. But no excuse could settle the fire in Sadina's stomach.

"We're going to the Villa," Isaac said unapologetically, and that hurt more than the rest of it. As much as it had hurt to see his hand fly up for the Villa when they voted all those days ago. She searched for answers to make this make sense, but she couldn't. Even the way Isaac and her mom stood five or six feet away from the group seemed like an ill omen, like they had already split apart. Why didn't they show any emotion? Regret? Remorse?

She tried to use reason. "Timon and Letti said the Villa was bad. They saved our lives to get us away from the Villa!" She was yelling by the end and turned to Trish for support.

"Yeah, we all promised we'd stick together," Trish said, somewhat pathetically.

"It's our only chance," Isaac said to the ground.

"Chance at what?!" Sadina stepped forward, demanding that they tell her their full plan, and in the moment she completely forgot the others were standing there. They were all so quiet, all anticipating the same thing. Answers.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," her mom said, tears in her eyes as she pulled the scarf from her neck and revealed the nastiest, reddest rash Sadina had ever seen. She trembled with disbelief.

"Oh good God," Roxy sputtered.

"Ms. Cowan!" Miyoko cried.

Sadina felt her whole body shake as if Minho had blown the horn of the Maze Cutter again.

"It's not the Flare. It can't be." Her mom rambled on, trying to reassure her that everything was okay, that they'd meet up again soon, but Sadina heard none of it. She knew the truth. Her mom's eyes looked hollow. Everything was far from okay.

The knife that he'd forged wasn't sharp enough to cut skin or kill a slug, but it was sharp enough to carve something into tree bark. He traced the point of the blade across a downed tree while the others gathered around Cowan and Sadina. He didn't need to witness the long goodbye and he didn't know what to say, anyway, so he just sat back.

Cowan's rash looked worse than it did two days ago. Even that morning Isaac had still held out hope that maybe it would fade. But no, it was worse. There was no other plan, now. This wasn't going to be some breakaway adventure where Cowan and Isaac just waited behind for everyone to rejoin them later. This was a rescue mission. He needed to figure out how to get Cowan to the Villa.

Minho kicked up sand with every step as he walked over to the downed shore log. "If I knew saying goodbye could take a whole day I'd have made you do this announcement yesterday." Minho sat down next to Isaac.

Isaac never felt jealous of Minho, not until this moment. There they were, around the same age, with the same goal: to go to Alaska and protect Sadina, but only one of them would be getting up off the log to do so. He hated thinking of all the things he'd miss out on, and what awaited him on his new path, and he felt empty. "She just needs some time to process." He gestured at Trish consoling Sadina by the remnants of last night's campfire. "It's not easy saying goodbye to a parent when you might never see them again." He wasn't sure if Sadina was lucky for the chance to say goodbye to her mom, a chance he'd never had, or if that made her unlucky.

"I wouldn't know," Minho said as he looked out at the ocean.

Isaac pushed his knife deeper into the log and removed chunks of bark in a specific design that would last long after he was gone. "Sorry, life doesn't always make sense." He didn't know what was worse: never having parents to miss like Minho, or Isaac having the best parents in the world and knowing exactly what he missed when they left. "If you did know, you'd understand . . ." He waited for Minho to say something cold and soldierlike, but he just looked out at the small waves as they crashed against the boat. The soft clapping sound reminded Isaac of life back on the island and how he used to watch the waves hit the rocks along the cliffs. He wasn't just missing home, he already missed everyone who reminded him of home. Dominic, Miyoko, Jackie, Old Man Frypan, and of course Trish and Sadina.

Minho picked up a stone and began sharpening his own knife. "The rock has to be porous for this to work." He looked up at Isaac and his newly forged blade. His pathetic attempt. "I don't know if it'll work with yours."

"Any other advice?" Isaac meant it sarcastically but it wasn't received that way.

Minho used quick short strokes of the rock. "Watch for Cranks. Don't trust anyone. Always assume the person you come upon is going to try to kill you. Because out here, they will."

Isaac looked down at his carving and thought about everything. He'd miss Old Man Frypan's cooking. He'd miss Roxy being snarky. He'd miss the group campfires.

"Here, take this." Minho handed his freshly sharpened knife to Isaac. "I know you're not good with guns, but you'll need something out here more than an art tool."

Isaac took the better blade. The weight of it felt like a force to be reckoned with. It sure beat the one he'd tried to hammer up on the fly. "Thanks." Isaac sat with a sense of disbelief and something like grief. Emptiness and loss watching the others. He was losing everything he'd ever known all over again, and that's its own kind of grief. "If things don't go well for you in Alaska, will you promise me something?"

"What's that?" Minho asked.

"If things turn sideways, promise you'll come back down the coast and check this spot right here for me. I'm not sure about the Villa, and if something happens to Cowan I'll be . . ."

"You'll be fine," Minho said.

"I don't know about that. We could get to the Villa and it could be empty. Or worse, it could be filled with Cranks."

Minho leaned over to see what Isaac had carved into the log. Isaac used the sharper knife to improve it. Now his message could stay marked in the tree forever. Minho motioned to the left side of his neck with one finger. "You go for this spot, here. Any man, Crank, or animal will be gone in a second."

"And what if I can't get a good go at the neck?" Isaac thought about the half-Cranks he and Jackie had faced.

Minho stood up from the log and walked around to Isaac's back, tapping spots on the lower back to the left and the right of his spine. "Then you get him here," Minho dug in with his knuckles, "or here." Kidneys. They're full of blood. You hit that spot, either side, and they'll be dead within minutes."

Even the knuckles had hurt in those two spots, so Isaac couldn't imagine getting stabbed there. He committed it all to memory. "Okay, so if things don't work out for either of us, we'll meet back here?"

"Sounds fair." Minho sat back down on the log. Although it wasn't a promise like Sadina had made Isaac, he'd take it.

"Thanks for this," he said as he tucked the knife into his pocket.

"No problem." Minho leaned over again to see Isaac's fresh carving. "Now, what the hell is this supposed to say?"

Isaac traced the deep grooves he'd made into the wood with his fingertips. He didn't expect Minho to understand the symbol of water below a sun, with an arrow pointed in both directions from the sea to the sky.

"This is my promise," he said.