I spotted a magnolia tree, its broad, waxy leaves reflecting the moonlight, and I thought of the one I’d sat under so many afternoons for my after-lunch cigarette. The branches were low enough to swing myself upward and thick enough to hold me. After a few slips, I managed to get a foothold in the crotch of two branches and drag the rest of my body up with it. Slowly, painfully, I climbed until I was about twenty feet off the ground. The Rabids gathered at the tree’s base, pawing and scratching at the bark in their own attempts to climb while making god-awful noises. I wasn’t taking any chances this time. I reloaded my gun and took aim.
I’d dropped three or four of them before the others finally realized that coming after me was a losing game. Groaning and grunting, they backed away and lumbered off, disappearing into the night, but I didn’t trust that they were gone, merely waiting, which meant that I was stuck there until morning unless I wanted to risk coming down and having them swarm my ass all over again. Besides that, my leg was killing me and I needed to rest my body even if I couldn’t fall asleep. I wedged myself into the fork of the tree and leaned back against its sturdy trunk.
“I’m coming for you, Kitten,” I said into the quiet night while praying to the moon, my one constant companion during my many troubled nights and my ally in this god-forsaken venture. “Please,pleasebe okay.”
* * *
That night,I dreamt we were at the seashore, just Kitten and I, as I’d finally fulfilled my promise to take him to see the ocean. He was scared by the waves, powerful enough to pull him under, but I promised I’d be there right beside him, so he waded into the surf, tentative but brave, and I held his hand as the water churned and boiled around him. He laughed. The boy had a beautiful laugh. It carried across the water and warmed me up from the inside. I watched the sunlight play upon his curls, bathing him in its warmth so that his skin had a lush, golden glow.
And then suddenly, the sky turned black. Clouds gathered, the wind grew teeth and bit at our bare skin, the sea spray burned our eyes, and the waves grew tall as giants. I tried to hold onto him, but his fingers slipped through mine as the churning water swept him away. The last thing I saw was his mouth wide open in a silent scream.
I startled awake, trying to balance myself so that I didn’t fall. Machete, gun, knives, leg, in that order. I was still up in the tree. The canopy was quiet, the sky was gray, which meant dawn was approaching. The forest was sheathed in a velvet cloak that should have been comforting. The moon was nowhere to be found.
Moving like an old man with my aching muscles and sore joints, I climbed down from the tree gingerly until I was on solid ground again. I pissed in the dirt and avoided looking at the bodies I’d slain last night, while mentally mapping how I’d gotten here. I needed to find the trail. I needed to find Kitten.
Quickly and without fanfare, I severed the dead Rabids’ spinal cords to make sure they would not resurrect, but I didn’t have time to burn their bodies. It had been 24 hours since Kitten had been presumably kidnapped, and there was no telling what that maniac might have done to him.
I didn’t want to imagine it.
I tried checking in with my crew and Larry to see if there’d been any sign of Kitten, but I was too far out of range to reach them. I turned off the radios to preserve their batteries. I was truly alone out here now.
The nightmare haunted me as I strode through the forest, going as fast as my battered body would allow. It seemed like a bad omen, as did the child Rabid from the night before clutching its teddy bear in one hand. Everyone was precious to someone, and Kitten… he was my one special thing, the boy who made this fucked-up life worth enduring, the one person who got me out of my own miserable head and forced me to appreciate the good that was left in the world. I couldn’t let my own pessimism dissuade me from my mission. Kitten was out there somewhere and I was going to find him.
Or die trying.
TWENTY
KITTEN
Mornings were usuallymy favorite time of day, when I’d wake to the sun and find myself tangled in Cipher’s arms.
Not today though.
I’d spent a restless night holed up in the bottom of the rotted trunk, waiting until there was enough light to keep the Rabids away before pawing my way out. I was dirty all over from the mud I’d smeared over my skin to mask my scent and shivering from the cold morning, but I’d worry about all of that later.
For now, there was only one threat I was worried about, and he appeared to be nowhere in sight. Hopefully Jeremiah was still camped out in his bulletproof Humvee sleeping soundly, allowing me some precious time to get away.
My feet were full of splinters and thorns, but I ignored the pain and crept as quietly as I could through the forest. I needed to get as far away as possible. East was Promised Land, but if I headed in that direction, Jeremiah would most certainly find me. I knew from studying Cipher’s maps that there was a highway to the west. If I could get to the highway, maybe I could signal for help. Cipher would tell me that I shouldn’t trust the military or strangers, but I trusted them a whole lot more than Jeremiah.
But where would I go then? Promised Land wasn’t safe for me anymore, not for my friends either. But as long as they didn’t know Brother Larry’s role in it, they might be okay, which meant that if I were to go back, they’d know what had happened. Cipher would be furious. He’d want revenge. And what if Jeremiah caught me along the way?
No, I’d head to Atlanta instead, find my brother, and somehow get word to the others that I was okay. Or maybe not. Possibly, they could continue living in Promised Land, unaware. Part of me didn’t want to ruin the illusion of safety, not if I knew they’d still be okay.
But Cipher would want to know the truth.
I could worry about all of that later. I needed to focus first on getting somewhere safe. Heading west, I kept the rising sun at my back, slowly but quietly picking my way through the forest so as not to leave any traces for Jeremiah to track me. I ignored the burning thirst in my throat and my hollow belly. I could survive, just as Cipher and the other Assholes had taught me.
And then I heard it.
Laughter.
Hislaughter.
A deep cackle that rose in intensity and pitch as it went on. I turned slowly to find my captor standing thirty feet away with a rifle aimed in my direction. It happened in slow motion, the movement of his trigger finger, followed by a sharp stabbing pain in my thigh. A tranq dart. I tried to yank it out, my hand moving to grip the vial, but I was too late. My vision blurred as my legs dropped out from under me. Blinking sluggishly at the sky, I remembered the picnic where Cipher and I had stared at the clouds and marveled over the happiness we had found. We’d been so hopeful then, and so in love.
A cold shadow fell over me as Jeremiah’s cruel sneer came into view.
“Gotcha.”
