Chapter 8

Two more hours until they reached the Maze Cutter and everyone could rest. Minho didn't know for sure that they'd find the ship in the next couple of hours, but the feeling grew in his gut. Orphans didn't have much, but they had instincts. Like flying the Berg. Like meeting Roxy and not killing her despite everything he'd been taught.

"Careful," he said to Orange. The ground they walked changed from small stones to sharp-edged rocks that stuck up at all angles. It seemed like the trail could turn into a big cliff looking over the ocean at any moment. He could smell it, hear it. "We're almost there. Two hours or so."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Orange walked just ahead of Minho. He knew her competitiveness wouldn't allow him to spot the ship before her. "Sorry. I like to be first. Blame the Grief Bearers."

"I get it." He slowed down and looked behind him, waited for the islanders and Roxy to catch up. Orange was the only one he trusted to go ahead of the group and not get herself killed or lost. He'd once seen her kill three rabid wolves that came at her from the woods without warning. Everyone thought she was a goner.

"Hey." Orange dropped back. "Before they catch up . . ."

Minho didn't hear Dominic's obnoxious singing, so they had at least a few minutes. "Yeah?"

"You're lying, right?" She placed the tip of her boot on the edge of a jagged rock as if to trace the blade of a knife.

Minho shook his head. "No. What're you talking about?"

"About helping the Godhead? You're going to Alaska to end them, right?" Orange's eyes might as well have been question marks.

Minho's teeth clenched with the pressure of betrayal. He forgot about that lie, and he couldn't tell his fellow Orphan the truth. He had to let her believe that he lied to the islanders and not her.

"I promised I'd get them to Alaska," he replied vaguely. Never mind that his goal was to join the Godhead, not destroy them as they'd been conditioned from birth. Orange would probably kill him quicker than she'd dispatched those wolves if she found out. "After that, we can figure out a plan."

"Hmm. I figured you'd have a plan. Just checking." She sounded suspicious, but oh well, he thought. She looked up to the trees and pointed at a sparrow landing on its nest with food in its beak. Back in the Remnant Nation she would've used that momma bird and baby for target practice. Was she trying to send a message? Returning her attention to Minho, she asked, "You ever wonder about your mom? Who birthed us?"

"Not really." It was the second lie he'd spoken in the last ten minutes. Not only did he think about his past family sometimes, he thought about them all the time. In the periphery of his mind. The Grief Bearers had drilled into them that they were orphans. You have no family. You have no friends. You have no name. Only Enemies. And by constantly telling him that he had no family, Minho knew he'd had one. He imagined them all the time.

"Animals were meant to raise their own. We weren't created in a lab, manufactured to grow up and protect their walls, right? Someone birthed us." She glanced back over her shoulder as if she didn't really think he was listening.

Minho thought about the birds again. If they were bigger, like pigeons or doves, he would've shot them for dinner but they were barely worth a bite of meat. "Birthed us, yeah, then they were thrown into the Flare pits. Great thing to talk about." That's what they'd been told, anyway. But of course, rumors always tiptoed their way around the Orphan barracks.

"But did you ever wonder, what if your parents aren't dead?" A quirky smile spread across Orange's face as if she knew something he didn't.

"No. I never wondered that." He placed the thought up there right along with Orange believing in some kind of massively organized Crank Army. It was silly, naive. Unfounded. Thankfully, the roar of the ocean had grown louder and the salt in the air had intensified, meaning this conversation could be over soon.

"Hear me out," she continued. "What if the Grief Bearer who raised you was your dad? What if they wore those hooded cloaks to hide how much we look like them?"

Minho had the slightest notion that someone on the planet might be related to him. Especially Griever Glane. Orange was full of wild ideas. "Well, if he was . . . he's dead now."

Roxy came into view with Miyoko, soon followed by the rest of the group. Minho started walking again, alongside Orange, and their movement caused the bird to fly away. "What made you think up this, anyway?" he asked.

"Because if they lied to us about one thing, who's to say they didn't lie about more?" She was right, nothing outside of Remnant Nation had turned out quite like he'd expected. Minho looked around at the vast openness of nature, the trees, the animals, the sky, the clouds. Peaceful. Their whole lives they'd been warned about the the outside, but the only real threat since leaving the Remnant Nation was from the Remnant Nation. They'd seen few Cranks in the wild, and the most dangerous thing about the islanders were Dominic's various unsavory habits.

"You think you have parents that are still alive?" Minho asked.

"Me? No. Ever seen anyone with hair like this? Me neither." She walked over rocks that grew bigger and bigger. "But Skinny and I used to joke that maybe we were related because we both had the same birthmark."

"Really? Let me see."

She showed him the thin smear of ropy, white skin on the outside of her elbow. "His was exactly the same, but maybe it's just a scar from some lovely childhood torture. Like the ropes."

Minho remembered. The Grief Bearers hung them by the arms until they were all pins and needles, almost numb. Then they'd lower them, hand over a gun, order them to shoot at targets, which faced each other in a zigzag pattern, only feet apart. Missing a target meant hitting another Orphan.

Minho examined the birthmark again. "Doesn't really look like a scar. Maybe you were born with it."

"Well, whatever. I like to think it matched because we were family somehow."

He saw a familiar look in her eyes. That feeling of trying to replace the complete abandonment that came with being an Orphan. "Maybe you were." The problem was, the abandonment had no name, had no face, only had a feeling. And that feeling was present in everything. Minho instinctively checked his own elbow, but no birthmark or scar.

Time to move on, he thought.

Luckily Orange did just that. "So after we find the boat we'll hunt for supplies. A week's worth for ten people is—"

"Seven." Minho rubbed at his elbow. "There's only going to be seven."

"What's that supposed to mean?" As soon as she asked, Minho realized that he did trust Orange or he wouldn"t have said anything. Maybe he could trust her with his secret after all.

He looked behind them to make sure no one could hear. "Cowan and Isaac need to stay behind." He whispered even though the rest of the pack was a good bit behind them.

Orange didn't seem to care all that much. "What about the third person, you said seven?"

He shrugged. "I just have a feeling someone else will choose them over Alaska when they find out."

"Find out what?" Her curiosity finally appeared ignited. "You have to tell me."

"Swear on Skinny's life you won't spill it."

"I swear on his soul."

Minho took wider steps as the path changed again. The rocks along the trail were smoothing out. They had to be close and were just turning a corner of jutting land loaded with palm trees. "Cowan's sick. Isaac's going to take her to the Villa."

And then there it was, all at once. The ocean. Vast and blue and sparkling. Endless. Forever. The most stunning thing he'd ever witnessed. Without thinking he'd stopped walking and could only stare.

"Holy ship." Orange said.

She pointed ahead at an inlet on the coast below them. A ship, alright. As big as a Berg, floating on the water as if it had always and only known peace. Remnants of missing letters along the side made it clear:

The Maze Cutter.

He felt as if he was looking upon the Maze itself.

A ship as solid as any Grief Walker. Ugly, but solid. Ready for use.

Maybe even a vehicle fit for a God.

The mood of the group shifted once they found the boat. Miyoko couldn't stop smiling, Dominic sang louder than usual, and Roxy and crew were downright celebrating.

But not Isaac. He didn't have anything to celebrate. Finding the Maze Cutter felt so final. Once everyone boarded the ship, he might never see them again. An anxiety churned deep inside his stomach that wouldn't settle. Seeing the Maze Cutter again, he couldn"t shake the memory of Kletter arriving on the island with eight dead bodies rotting on the deck of the ship. Was Minho different? He had an arsenal of weapons, after all. The people who went to the island with Kletter were once on her side, too. Of course, they only had her word for it. And now Minho's.

While the others hunted and gathered for the long journey ahead, Isaac set up a secret forge deep off the coast of the beach with scraps of wood, concrete, and metal he found. He needed to prepare for the worst and have something that resembled a knife if he needed it. More than that, it was the break he needed. The therapy.

He pounded metal on metal, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, hoping the noise didn't echo all the way to the beach. He hammered the hot steel three strikes at a time to mimic a birdsong.

"Oh look, it's the future Captain Sparks," Sadina said as she pulled tree branches away to clear a path. "What are you doing?"

Busted.

"Making a knife." He didn't look up. He couldn't.

"Minho and Orange have plenty of weapons, and grew up using them. I think if anything happens we'll be—"

"It's just in case." He banged the metal harder. He didn't want to tell her. Not here. Not now. Not ever. That her mom was sicker by the day and that it was up to him alone to save her or it'd be up to him to kill her.

"I guess it's good to get some smithing practice before you get back to the island. The real Captain Sparks might finally promote you." She smiled with innocence, with the ease of someone whose life had never been turned upside down. Thinking of going back to the island was like imagining his parents and sister alive again. It was a stretch to even create the images in his mind, they were too far away. And soon, Sadina and the memory of her would be just as far away.

"You think we'll ever be home again?" He tried not to sound hopeless, but who knew if Minho and the group wouldn't settle into a new home once they got to Alaska.

"Yeah, I do. It's our home." She said it without question, but Isaac wasn't convinced. If a family could be taken away, then a home just as easily could cease to exist. "I know things are different. I know when we go back, nothing will be like it used to be." She moved closer and finally reflected the amount of heaviness that Isaac felt. "Trish has been a little extra since we got kidnapped." She let out a fake laugh that she only did when things were the furthest from funny.

He couldn't return it. "Well, from what Jackie said, Trish almost didn't make it through that. Cried every day and every night, it was all they could do to keep her from dying of dehydration after all that crying." He looked over at Sadina but she wasn't changed by this information, so he added, "You know people can die of a broken heart." Sadina rolled her eyes. "She loves you."

Now, a sigh. "I know. She just loves me in a very heavy way right now. I can't even get up at night without her coming to check on me. Plus, since we got back with everyone I haven't had much time to talk to you." She nudged him.

She was right, they hadn't talked much since he saw the rash on Ms. Cowan's neck because Isaac couldn't lie to his best friend. He did his best to create natural distance between them, and Trish's overprotectiveness lately helped the effort.

Isaac forced a smile. "It's alright. We're always going to be close even if we're not right next to each other." Sadina nodded but that wasn't enough for him. "Promise?" he asked.

She recited the motto they'd had since childhood. "From the sea to the sky, I promise."

He hadn't thought about the saying in years. "From the sea to the sky."

Isaac went back to pounding on the metal to flatten the knife he'd made, and with Sadina looking on, it was almost like they were back home and she might start begging him to cut out of work early for the day to go for a swim.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Sadina asked and Isaac's stomach dropped. How could she trust him with a secret and he not return the favor?

"Of course." He wished he hadn't promised Ms. Cowan to keep quiet until the day they boarded the ship. Should he tell Sadina? It wasn't his whole secret to tell, but Isaac felt so much guilt about keeping this from his best friend.

"I'm a little scared about what happens when we get to Alaska. What if they want to separate me from you guys? Trish can't take that." She fumbled with a rock in her hand, and Isaac had to wipe his face to hide the springing emotions. Her question wasn't a "what if" to Isaac—it was guaranteed to happen. She was about to get separated from her mom and her longtime friend before they even left for Alaska.

"You're strong enough to get through anything. And Trish might surprise you, too. Just hang in there." He hammered back away at the knife.

"When you're done with that, can you help me make something too?" Sadina held up a piece of metal wire in her hands. "Found it on the beach."

"Sure thing. What do you want to make?" He leaned over the makeshift forge. He only wanted to make her happy and hoped she didn't hate him forever when it came time to leave.

"Something for Trish." She also had a small piece of wood. It only made him wish he'd created something for her to remember him by.

"Sadina . . ." He needed to tell her. He had nothing to give but the truth. That her mom was sick. That he wouldn't be getting on the ship to Alaska.

"What? You're looking at me like you have some deep dark confession to make." She laughed nervously but then got quiet. "Look, if you're going to tell me you've always been in love with me or some weird sappy shit—"

"No. Nothing like that. I don't think I'm your type, anyway." He rolled his eyes but Sadina started to laugh again, and he realized he couldn't be the one to tell her. Not now. "I just want you to know that I really would go from the sea to the sky for you."

"I know." She gave him a questioning smile.

He wanted her to understand. "If we ever get separated, I'll find a way back to you and everyone else."

"Isaac! Stop being so weird, we're not going to get separated." She snatched the hammer out of his hand, almost burning hers in the process.

"You're right," he lied.

With the ranks of the Evolutionary Guard to protect her, Alexandra confidently walked in front of the crowd that had gathered for Sunday Maze Mass. The air was icy on her arms and face, despite the sunny skies above. She folded the mustard-yellow wool cloak around her arms, holding tight to the disguise she'd once worn to fool Mannus into doing her bidding to kill Nicholas.

It was time for a good old-fashioned uprising.

It was time for the Evolution.

"You're sure you feel up to this?" Flint questioned her strength as she walked to the stage. She'd thought by getting rid of Nicholas that she was done having people question her.

"Flint, I told you, the fainting was just a spell of grief that came over me. I'm fine." But it hadn't been from grief. She had no idea what caused her to black out. She handed Flint her cloak with a look that said don't ever question me again.

"Hello, Faithful Pilgrims!" Alexandra faced the simmering crowd and waited until all had eyes on her. The group before her included those who were silently devout, praying in basements, all the way to the extremists who performed rituals and Hollowings. She looked for Mannus' horns which typically stood out in the crowd, but there was no sign of him. She needed to speak with him, make sure he'd kept his word and that the arrangement between them was still private. She didn't trust any of the Pilgrims, much less one who'd killed a member of the Godhead. "Faithful Pilgrims, I bring sad news today, but first I bring you news of hope." She placed both her hands over her heart as if to brace the people of Alaska for Nicholas' loss.

A crazed Pilgrim, almost naked, with jittery eyes as wide as two soap dishes, screamed at her. "The lights are solar flares! We're doomed!" Those around him faltered in their faith, murmured agreement. She hated how easily the fear of simple things could affect their simple minds. She had almost no patience for this, for the uneducated. She counted the digits in her head while the crowd calmed again.

"No, the lights are our hope." She waved her hands before her, slowly, like the movement of the Aurora Borealis. She turned on the melodrama. "The colors in the sky represent the colors within us. Our light within is coming back, and just like the skies above have evolved, it's time for us, too to Evolve." Murmurs again rumbled through the Pilgrims, and Alexa wondered if they even knew what the term "evolved" meant. Society had been stuck in survival mode for so long that she doubted many of them had an ounce of hope left for the future, any hope that life could ever be anything more than what it was right then. But it needed to be.

"My Pilgrims, we are at a crossroads in civilization and it is our job to choose faith. It is our choice to change history. And it is our responsibility to stand strong." She again allowed space within her speech for the crowd to react and they did. She spotted a set of horns moving through the crowd, and as she made eye contact with Mannus, he tapped the side of one of his horns. She had all but forgotten her promise to remove those damnable things from his head.

"What is the news?!" The crowd chanted for her to go on.

"The news is of hope and our ending peril. The hope that we will soon become greater and more than we ever imagined possible in the past. We will become not only resistant to the Flare but Evolve with gifts that will allow each and every one of you to become a God within your own right."

She held up her hands to the sky as she took a breath but the crowd didn't cheer, they only rumbled in confusion at this. Impossibly, she'd overestimated them once again. Surely they'd understand what she said next. "But the sad news I bring to you today hurts my heart to announce." She cleared her throat and lowered her head for dramatic effect. "Our God Nicholas was brutally murdered by those who opposed his plans regarding the Evolution." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Murdered!?" Gasps arose from the crowd.

Pilgrims moaned in mourning and turned to each other for support.

"Yes. It is true. Our dear Nicholas died defending his vision for this land. For each of you to have the privilege of living a Godly life." She paused and rubbed her temples. The loud buzzing in her ears started again as if she couldn't speak of Nicholas' death without her body having a visceral response.

"Who murdered him?" a loud scratchy voice asked and Alexandra looked up to see Mannus, the murderer, asking her. She squinted at him and shook her head before addressing the crowd.

"We're looking into who could have committed such a hideous, blasphemous, violent crime."

"The Hollowings must be increased!" a tattooed Pilgrim shouted. "Two a day!"

Alexandra turned to Flint for crowd control but he was useless. "No! The Hollowings must stop at once. Nicholas asked this of us and it is the one thing we can do to honor his memory, to be more Godlike in his absence." She reached for the mustard-yellow cloak from Flint. The Pilgrims clamored too many phrases for her to hear all at once, and calming them was much harder than she'd anticipated. The disbelief draped over the crowd's faces, and this was the outburst of emotion that she needed in order to manipulate their reactions for her plans. She let them erupt and share each other's pain a little longer. The more she let the outrage and fear simmer, the easier it would be to steer them into her intentions.

The fear that annoyed her so much could be used to her advantage, now. "Dearest Pilgrims, you must understand the full truth." Her eyes met Mannus' in the crowd and she quickly looked away; she would not be sharing that truth. "You must realize that this horrible news comes about because Nicholas had discovered a Cure, an immunity to the Flare." The crowd became quiet just as she had hoped. It was as if her eardrums had ceased to function all at once. Perhaps they weren't too far out of her control after all.

"A Cure? Finally? Could it be true?" a woman in the front row asked gently as she reached out to the Goddess. Alexandra took her hand and squeezed it as she answered with a giving smile.

"Yes." She needed to cement their shock. "What he discovered is a preventative that keeps you healthy from the world's deadliest virus, but also will boost your DNA to be smarter, stronger, and more gifted in all areas of your life."

Nicholas had indeed discovered a way to be immune to the Flare but she'd never tell them the rest of it, that the same variant which kept them resistant could also cure the half-Cranks to be whole again. She didn't want Alaska to turn into a refuge for Cranks. They'd likely be more dead inside than Mikhail and cause more Hollowings. Alexandra knew the majority of people might agree with her, that they'd be hesitant to let half-Cranks back into society. Those abominations of the world, no matter the internal ratio, belonged on the outskirts of every town and in the Flare pits of Crank Palace.

"When can we get this Cure?" the same woman in the front row asked.

"In due time. Patience is necessary, dear Pilgrims. But soon we will eradicate every strain of the Flare and each of you will Evolve to the infinite potential of the human race. Capabilities that until this moment, only members of the Godhead have possessed." The time was right. She made a show of unfolding the cloak and she swung it wide around her shoulders before securing it at the neck.

"You all will become Gods and Goddesses, if you accept the Cure. Some will oppose this advancement in medicine, but let me be the first to tell you that those who oppose the Evolution are as evil as the Flare itself." The crowd cheered at her fanfare just as she knew they would. "Those who oppose the Evolution are themselves responsible for the death of the God Nicholas." The crowd booed along with her. "The Cure is on the horizon. It is the dawning of a new day, and Alaska will be both home of the Maze and now home of the Cure."

The crowd's faces lit up with hope, and joy, and something so intense that she hadn't seen from the Pilgrims in a long time. A fight in their eyes. A willingness to do more than just survive. Hysteria. Fanaticism. Exactly what she wanted. "New Petersburg will be the most powerful of all cities, the highest of all populations. No longer a place to be feared, or to be looked down upon. New Petersburg, the sight of the Maze—will rise again."

The people cheered louder and louder. She breathed it all in like fresh air.

She was their only remaining God.

Their one true Goddess.

Alexandra felt dizzy. Was this how Nicholas felt with all the power he'd once held? Her ears buzzed louder with each step she took into town. Now that she was the singular God, she wondered if her head could take the pressure. Her hands shook without reason, which she tried to hide from the Evolutionary Guard.

"Goddess Romanov!" shouted someone from the crowd chasing behind them, but the guards knew to keep anyone from getting close to her. She wouldn't be touching them on their foreheads, their noses, and then their mouths like dear Nicholas did. She'd never touch them at all. "Goddess Romanov, I've done your bidding now you do mine." The voice of the follower rang clear.

"Stand back." The Evolutionary Guard pushed the man with horns. "She'll speak again next Sunday."

But Alexandra held up her hand to stop them. "I'll speak to this one now." She motioned the Guard to give her space, "Please. Allow us privacy." She knew such a request might cause suspicion and that heads might roll if she invited this monster of a man up to her quarters for a private talk. The middle of the street, south of the square would have to do. The Guard hesitated to leave her side, as if they knew Mannus was a Godhead killer. She motioned with a little more threat for just a few feet of privacy.

"You've got a kindness owed to me, Goddess." Mannus tapped his right horn.

"Yes, I do. Thank you. It will be done." She smiled so that the Evolutionary Guard allowed her to comfort a spiritually lost Pilgrim.

"When?" Mannus forcibly demanded the when and the how of it, but the more he pushed the more she'd delay. She didn't come out from under Nicholas' reign to be bossed around by anyone ever again. She couldn't let Mannus forget who the true God was.

She held her hands in front of her, palms up to show dominance and leadership as she spoke to Mannus. "Dear Pilgrim, do you have faith?" It was something simple she'd learned about body language and casting doubt that easily controlled another. She doubted Mannus could even control his own body, let alone his mind.

"Of course." He was a simple man with simple words. Maybe she could mold him into being something more. She needed him and his closest allies on her side. They'd been a tool in her plan to get rid of Nicholas, but perhaps tools so useful should be kept close. "It will be done when my bidding is done. I have one last request." She held up a single finger.

"Our deal has already started and ended." Mannus inched closer to her and she looked back to the Guard but they were distracted by a street fight.

Alexandra took a deep breath and repeated the digits in her head. "Then I have a new proposition." If Mannus was impulsive enough to get horns sewn on his head years ago to please a woman, then his curiosity could be manipulated again. And after all, Alexandra was more than just any woman, she was a God.

"I'm listening." He lowered his tone and took a step backwards.

She held up her finger again. "You will be the first of New Petersburg to experience the full Evolution."

"The Cure?" His eyes glistened and it reminded Alexandra of the power that the Flare still had over everyone. The man in front of her was strong enough to kill a God with his bare hands, but his voice weakened to that of a child when asking about the Cure.

"Yes, the Cure is the Culmination of the Evolution. We'll remove your horns at that time, for a full transformation both inner and outer." She allowed her words to linger, dance around Mannus

"When?" he asked with a look of honor.

"As soon as humanly possible."

She smiled at her use of the word humanly. Mannus and the other horned Pilgrims were about as odd looking as the half-Cranks. Some, with tattooed faces and necks, wearing hardly any clothes, looked more like animals than people. They were still human, but they could become more human-like, to humanity's truest form. Their DNA needed to open up, to re-create all possibilities. She watched as Mannus walked away, his horns bouncing with every step. For far too long the world had veered off course. Humanity had given up on itself. But this turning point in history would be a sharp one.

As sharp as the tip of a horn.