Cameron nods. “Yeah, self-serviced just like in the Under.” He reaches back in an attempt to pull it out, but I catch his hand.
“Leave it. The blade is the only thing keeping it from bleeding uncontrollably. I’ll remove it properly when we get to the bunker.” I bring his hand down to his side.
He considers me before reluctantly nodding. “Just don’t turn me into one of your stories. Icanreach the knife if I need to.” I hear the smirk in his voice and breathe out a relieved sigh. I guess he’s okay if he’s making jokes like this.
Wraith struts over with a cocky grin. “Damn, I was aiming for you, runt.” He pretends his hand is a gun and fires it at me.
“Fuck you,” I snap.
He raises his hands innocently and grins. “Calm down. Save that energy for the second trial.” Wraith clasps Bree on the shoulder. She shoves him off and glares. “Whatever, you’re all dead bitches anyway, so learn to have some fun while you can.” He walks away back to his group. There’s still a handful of them left, which doesn’t exactly make me confident for the remaining trials.
Damian finally finds us and hugs Bree. “Thank God. I couldn’t find you in there, and I thought the worst had happened.” He scours her body from head to toe to make sure she’s not hurt. His eyes catch on her thigh. Her black pants are almost completely soaked through, but she’s already tied someone else’s belt around it as a tourniquet. “Shit. We need to get back inside and tend to this. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Bree.” His lips tremble, and I think he might cry.
Bree waves him off. “It’s fine. I’m okay, and it’s not like the drill sergeant will hurry things along just for my sake.” Damian nods thoughtfully, but takes a knee with his back facing her.
“Hop on,” he mutters. She smiles and winks at me before wrapping her arms over his neck. I watch him carry her ahead of us, talking quietly and sharing what each other missed during their separation.
Cameron glances down at me with a scowl that doesn’t match the softness in his gaze. “I willnevercarry you, so don’t get your hopes up. If you fall in the field, you’re dead,” he says gruffly. I only smile to myself and nod. Cameron’s eyes linger on the two of them as they speak sweetly to one another.
I hope he wants them to survive this as much as I do.
18
EMERY
Everyone reconvenesin the valley where the countdown took place. The bodies have been moved, as is evident by the thick blood trails streaking the snow that lead down into the bunker. The carnage of what happened here still remains—bodies or no bodies.
My nostrils flare at the metallic sting in the air. It’s fresh from the snow, preserved with the cold.
Drill Sergeant Adams stands where he did the day prior, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes are so callous and indifferent to the harrowing fact that there are only half of us left. He congratulates those of us who made it as we wearily walk by, following the soldiers’ orders to head into the underground barracks.
Many of the cadets who’ve made it are bleeding in one way or another. A group of three can hardly walk; their boots are frozen and ice covers halfway up their pant legs.They must’ve crossed the stream like the other two did.I’m glad we didn’t enter the icy grave. Who’s to say how long they’ll last in whatever trial waits for us next.
Bree and Damian are walking a few people ahead of us. She glances back once or twice, curiosity glinting in her eyes. Iwonder if she’s considering teaming up with us. I wouldn’t be opposed to working with her and Damian, though I’m too tired to think too much about it at the moment.
We’re marched down a long hallway that descends gradually until I’m sure we’re twenty feet below the surface. My lungs fill with the warm air, and comfort seeps into my bones as we pass by the barracks. It’s identical to the Under—every bed placement, the layout of the room, and the communal bathroom in the back. Everything down to the flickering luminescent lights that I’ve already grown accustomed to.
Cameron and I head to the infirmary, where there are already a handful of people who are trying to patch themselves up and aren’t succeeding. I’m not sure what disgusts me more, the savagery of the trials, or the way the friendships and alliances have been severed, leaving the wounded to fend for themselves.
Cameron must see my desire to offer help because he mutters, “Tend to them first, I’ll wait. I’m not in pain.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, letting my eyes search for the worst wounded first. Cameron grins and nods as he leans against the wall.
I’m able to quickly help those that need it the most. It only takes a matter of fifteen minutes, but it feels like an hour has passed before I get the last person patched and sent to the barracks to rest.
Cameron finally pushes off the wall and sits down on the edge of the table.
“Thanks for waiting,” I mumble wearily, grabbing a roll of gauze and disinfectant. Sutures are already prepped in the tray.
Cameron sets his hand on my shoulder, urging my eyes up to his.
“You’re a kind person,” he murmurs.
I force my eyes away and walk behind him to remove the knife. “I’m here for a reason, remember? I’m not a saint,” Iremind him. His vest is just an inch away from the puncture, so I’m able to get by with just cutting the fabric of his undershirt.
“Besides the fact that you’re a monster like me, you at least show kindness to others when they need it. It’s more than I can credit to anyone else down here,” he says softly. My hands pause at his words before I resume cutting his shirt and prepping the wound. I grab the disinfectant in one hand and fist the hilt of the blade in the other. He claims that he can’t feel the pain, but it doesn’t make this any less distressing for me knowing what his body is going through.
“Ready?” I ask anyway.
