I stare indifferently at the dead cadets at the top of the ridge. Their blood creates a small stream that drains toward the cliffside where I fell.Good riddance.I dismiss the fact that they were only trying to survive like we are.
Cameron was right; the Under Trials make you cold to the horrors around you. The things we’ll do just to take another breath are tragic.
I don’t want to die. I want to be free.
We limp together, and after five minutes we reach the green light. Three other squads are standing in their own separategroups. Only two or three of them are standing in each team, the remaining squadmates are dead and have been carried here.
I blow out a relieved breath when I spot Bree, Damian, and Bryce. They look just as relieved to see us.
“I swear to God you two are fucking immortal,” Damian mutters as he gives me a huge bear hug and clasps his hand on my back. Bree smiles sweetly at me and takes her turn, embracing me after I peel Damian off.
Cameron sets his face back to stone and keeps his arms firmly crossed, holding appearances, I figure.
Bryce nods at both of us. “Not many people fall off a mountain and are able to walk back up it.” He sounds genuinely happy that we’re here. I cast a glance at Cameron and see that he still looks full of doubt when it comes to our poison-loving comrade.
“You make it sound like it was easy,” I say flatly as I look over who the other survivors are.
Everyone has their masks pulled down and are chatting freely, ignoring the dead members at their feet like they were nothing.Would I be the same way if I hadn’t befriended them?I would like to think that I wouldn’t be. The three of them have grown on me, and Cameron is literally an extension of me at this point.
Two large men speak in low whispers and only look our way when they notice me watching. Wraith and Arnold. Why am I not surprised that those two, out of everyone, made it into the third trial? They’re entirely covered in dried blood, and all their comrades are dead. I recognize the giant lying still on the ground; he was fighting Cameron before I was sent tumbling down the hill. The end of a combat handle is barely visible at the bottom of his jaw.
I’d wince at the sight, but I’m too impressed to let it affect me.
“I can’t believe they’re going to be in the third inning,” Bree jokes. I wonder if she played baseball in her life before this. She certainly has the calloused hands for it.
“I figured they’d be endgame,” Bryce retorts, shifting on his feet and rubbing debris from his glasses with the lining of his sleeve.
Cameron snorts. “What gave them away? Their efforts to keep their squadmates safe?” His tone is thick with sarcasm.
I take the moment for what it is, the five of us being the only full squad to make it to the end of the trial. That has to count for something, doesn’t it? It makes my chest swell with pride. Maybe being in the Dark Forces and on a squad won’t be so bad. In a weird way, it feels more like home than my house ever did.
The sound of a Black Hawk drills through the sky toward us. The beacon point is an elevated platform of stone and has plenty of space for it to land. We wait patiently as it descends. I’m shocked that Wraith doesn’t try anything, but he’s probably just as exhausted as we are after a few days out in the forest.
Adams steps out of the helicopter and gives us all a good once-over.We look like shit. We know. Get us the fuck out of here.I credit my grumpy attitude to the wound in my calf and all the aching parts of my body from the fall. I’m already dreading looking at myself in the mirror when we get back, but the hot shower will be well worth it.
“Congratulations, Cadets, you’ve made it to the final trial,” Adams says with a sinister grin as he continues to eye us. There are probably a million insane thoughts flittering through that man’s head right now. Does he come up with the trials, or are they predetermined? He certainly has me questioning it. “Come on then, let’s get back to the bunker.”
A few of the other squads look down at their dead teammates at their feet.
“Leave them, we’ll dispose of them,” the drill sergeant shouts over the helicopter blades.
The ride back to the bunker takes a quarter of the time it took to get here. The scent of iron fills the small space, even with all the airflow that the open door allows in. I stare down at my red hands and wonder how many people I’ll wash away in the next hour. I feel nothing.
As Cam said, it was me or them.
29
EMERY
Everyone isin the showers and yet it feels so empty now. Only thirteen of us remain.
The water pooling around the drains is bright red. My pink hair is even stained more of a blush than pastel from all the blood. I squeeze more shampoo into my hand and scrub my hair viciously with my uninjured side.
Cameron has one hand pressed against the wall as he lets his head hang in the stream of water. His pale hair has blotches of red throughout as well. My eyes trace his form, following the trail of tattoos that guide down from his neck and into his torso and arms. His muscles are still flexed, slowly relaxing under the heat. His shoulder blade wound must’ve torn a bit during the trial; it oozes a dark current of blood down his back and over his ribs.
He senses my gaze and slowly looks my direction. His injured eye is closed and has stopped bleeding for the most part. His other is hooded, weary, and heavy with thought. His gaze drifts to my body, scouring over the bruises and cuts. The only wound his eyes linger on for a while is my throbbing calf. I need to stitch it, but wanted to thoroughly clean it first. An infection is the last thing I want.
“I’m alright,” I reassure him as I do a final rinse. The stains in my hair are still evident, but it’s better than it was. I shut off the shower and wrap a towel around myself. Dots of red quickly bleed through the fabric and draw a scowl across my face.
