Evolution (8 page)

I keep scrambling up the hillside. “Dean!”

A couple yards ahead, I nearly trip over his body. He's lying in some underbrush. His eyes are closed and his skin shines with sweat. When I check for a pulse in his wrist, it's barely there at all.

I drop to my knees beside him and shake him. “Dean, wake up.”

He doesn't respond, no matter how many times I shake him and say his name. More of the vapor must've entered his system than mine, or the poison affected him more than it affected me.

I look around helplessly. If the raiders are searching the forest, I can't stay here in case they come back. Dean should stay safe in the underbrush while I go see if there are others alive. But I can't risk getting closer to the hovercraft until I know for sure the raiders aren't still there. I need a better vantage point.

On my feet again, I quickly pick out the tallest tree in the vicinity. I pull myself up onto the lowest branch. The bark is coated with moss that's wet from the rain and slippery to stand on. I make sure I have a firm grip on the branch above me before I climb higher.

I'd forgotten how wonderful it feels to climb up in high places. I used to escape to the tops of buildings all the time when I was growing up in the work camp on the other side of the Surface. It wasn't a true escape, not really, but it was something that was mine. Officials couldn't bother me as easily if I was up high. The only danger was falling, and I wouldn't let that happen.

It doesn't take long to reach a branch that gives me a view of the hilltop. Pushing the leaves aside, I can see smoke rising from the hovercraft wreckage. It's maybe fifty yards away.

Two of the raiders have landed in the crash site. Three more circle overhead like monstrous krails.

An alien stalks into view through the smoke. It's walking on two legs, but it's much taller and leaner than any human I've ever seen. It carries a weapon, a huge black gun similar to our missile launchers. There's a strange, translucent quality to the alien's skin—or maybe what I'm seeing is armor.

I hadn't given much thought to what the Mardenites would look like, but I never would've imagined a creature like this. So alien, yet there's something strangely familiar about it—not just the fact it's walking on two legs. There's something else. Something I can't place.

The alien turns away and disappears into the smoke before I can make out more of its features. Anyway, it's too far away.

One of the raiders lifts off the ground. The second follows, and the third. The raiders still up in the air lead the others to the north, and I watch the swarm grow smaller and smaller until it's lost in the moonlit clouds.

I hurry down from the tree. Maybe I should feel relieved the Mardenites are gone, but I don't, and I won't until I find more survivors. There's a tight wad of fear in my chest, a worry that I might be the only person left.

I refuse to believe it until I've scoured the crash site and checked every part of the forest.

I go back to Dean in his hiding spot and find him stirring, swimming back into consciousness. “What happened?” he asks.

“The poison gas knocked you out. How do you feel?”

“Horrible,” he says, groaning. He tries to sit up and I help him. He's sweating so much, I can feel it through his glove. But he has enough strength to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I say. “A lot better than you.”

“Good. I had a feeling you would be.”

I'm not quite sure what he means. But I brush the comment aside. “The raiders took off. I'm going back to the crash site to look for survivors.”

“I'm coming with you,” Dean says, struggling to his feet. He looks like he might pass out again. All he's going to do is slow me down.

“You should stay here and rest. I'll come back for you.”

“No, I have orders and I'm following them,” Dean says, grabbing his pulse rifle from the grass. He cocks it so it's ready to fire. “Lead the way.”

I can see there's no arguing with him, so I don't bother trying. I turn in the direction of the hilltop and Dean follows, wincing with every step.

 

9

The smoky battlefield is silent when we reach it. There're no signs of raiders among the clouds drifting across the starry sky. The Mardenites won the attack and fled the scene.

Rain drizzles on the grass, hissing as it lands on a few spots where flames still lick the debris. My boots squelch in the mud as I hurry through the smoke, scouring the hill for any sign of survivors. But the only people I find are three dead soldiers. Corpses with flame-eaten clothes.

There were more than three soldiers in the battle. Where did the rest go?

There's a clanging sound behind me, and I spin around. But it's just Dean, pushing a piece of rubble off the body of another fallen soldier. The man I saw struck by a laser earlier. Dean feels for a pulse in his wrist, but the look in his eyes tells me there's nothing.

“I'm going to search the hovercraft,” I say.

“Be careful,” Dean says, straightening and continuing to survey the battlefield.

I turn and hurry up the boarding ramp into the cargo bay. “Beechy! Darren! Uma!”

My voice echoes in the dead hull of the ship.

There's no one in the cabin upstairs, or in the weapons locker, or in any of the smaller rooms attached to the cargo bay. The engine room would've been too full of smoke and ashes for anyone to use it as a hiding place. I'm afraid to look in there for fear of running into Fiona's body.

I check inside the infirmary and find the empty surgical table where Sandy was undergoing her operation. The IV bag on the stand next to the table is half full of blood the doctor must've been giving her to replenish what she lost.

Beechy must've carried Sandy off the ship. The question is what happened to them afterward.

Back outside, Dean meets me near the foot of the boarding ramp. “Did you find anyone?” he asks, breathless. His body is still trembling.

I shake my head. “We should check the forest.”

“Maybe we should rest first,” Dean says. “If anyone's out there, they'll still be there in a few minutes.”

“No. We have to find Beechy.” I push past him. If Dean won't help me search the forest, I'll go myself.

“Clementine, you're hurt.” There's authority in Dean's voice now, beneath his weariness. And real concern. “You need to change your bandages.”

I look down at my arm, where I was shot last night. Sure enough, the bandages are in dirty shreds from my fall in the forest. The wound has opened up again and there's blood on my safety suit.

I grind my teeth together. “Fine. Five minutes of rest and we'll go.”

“I'll get a medi-kit,” Dean says, starting up the boarding ramp.

The question I've been wanting to ask him spills out: “Why do you care if I'm hurt? Why are you helping me?”

Dean pauses halfway up the ramp. His voice is stiff when he answers: “I've told you why. Commander Charlie ordered me to make sure you're safely returned to the Core.”

“Right.” I don't hide my sarcasm. “He thinks I possess ‘extraordinary genes,' so he wants to keep me safe, even though I've done nothing but disobey him and ruin his plans. You expect me to believe that?”

“I don't know why he wants to keep you safe.” The muscles in his back are rigid, visible through his armor. “I don't question the commander's orders. I just follow them.”

“You're lying.”

“If that's what you want to believe, I don't care,” Dean says, continuing up the ramp. “I'll be back with the medi-kit.” He disappears inside the hovercraft.

I kick a piece of rubble in the grass, letting out a yell of frustration. I'm sick of all the lies. They have to stop. From now on, I'm going to demand the truth until someone gives it to me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement on the edge of the forest. I spin around, focusing on the trees. Four figures limp onto the battlefield—four more survivors from the battle with the Mardenites. Dean and I aren't the only people left alive.

I run forward, ready to shout Beechy's name—he has to be with them. But I stop in my tracks as soon as one of the figures lifts his gun and I realize he's not an Alliance rebel. He's Sam, limping along but alive as ever.

“Halt right there,” he says.

I put my hands up, so he'll know I'm not one of the Mardenites. “Don't shoot. It's me—it's Clementine.”

Sam's arm falters a little, but he doesn't lower his gun. He's close enough now that I can make out his face and the people he's with: Skylar, Darren, and a corporal whose name I don't know.

Beechy isn't with them.

“How did you get here?” Sam asks, his voice unsteady with anger. His eyes seem bloodshot in the moonlight.

A step behind him, Darren's eyes flicker between the two of us nervously. His face is shiny with fever sweat, his body shaking. The rest of them are in a similar state. Skylar has a hand pressed against her side, covering up a dark stain that looks like blood. She makes no move to calm Sam down. Her gaze drifts past me, looking around the battle site.

“I'm not alone,” I say, trying not to sound as agitated as I feel. Sam shouldn't be pointing his gun at me after everything, but he's clearly not in a normal state of mind. “I came with Lieutenant Dean. He and I escaped into the forest.”

“Where is he now?” Sam demands.

“I'm right here,” Dean says behind me, his boots clunking down the boarding ramp. “Lieutenant, put your weapon down. We've lost enough people today.”

After a long moment, Sam slowly lowers his gun. I drop my hands. The look he gives me is full of pure hatred. I'm sure he can't stand the fact I survived yet another battle.

“It's good to see you,” Skylar says between coughs, as Dean steps into view beside me. “We weren't sure if anyone else got away before the raiders landed.”

I swallow hard against the bulge of fear in my throat. I have a question, but I'm worried I already know the answer. “Where is everyone else?”

“They're gone,” Darren says through a ragged breath.

“They were taken by the Mardenites,” Skylar says.

Their words slice through my chest like a knife. Taken. Captured.

“You're wrong,” I say.

They have to be.

“How do you know?” Dean asks.

“We saw the aliens drag people aboard their ships.” Skylar's voice doesn't waver, and she meets his eyes directly. I don't think she's lying.

I feel cold all over, drained of every last bit of hope. In my head, I see the Mardenite stalking across the hillside through the smoke. Had the creature just hauled Beechy's body aboard a ship? And Sandy? And Uma?

“How many were taken?”

“At least seven people,” Skylar says. “Everyone on the battlefield who was still alive. Most of them were trying to escape into the forest, but the poison gas knocked them out. We were lucky we'd already started running, or we would've been captured too.”

“We need to get off the Surface,” Sam says, his voice still cold. “We're in danger of being captured as long as we're up here.”

“We don't have a ship,” the curly-haired corporal says. He's clutching his arm to his chest like it was wounded. “The hovercraft's useless and the X-wings are gone.”

“The Pipeline isn't far—we can reach it on foot in a couple hours,” Skylar says. “There's a transmission station there. They'll have an emergency transport we can use to get to the Core. Unless someone has a better plan.” She looks around at the rest of us.

No one says anything in response, not even Sam. This was the plan Beechy had meant for me to follow before he was captured. I owe it to him to go through with it.

“It'll be light in a few hours,” Dean says, turning in the direction of the hovercraft. “We'd better get moving if we want to reach the Pipeline before dawn.”

As we start toward our ship to grab the supplies we'll need, I search the sky again for signs of the raiders that took Beechy and the other prisoners. But they're long gone, likely on their way to the battle stations floating beyond the acid shield. They're not coming back.

The guilt rips me apart inside. I did what Beechy wanted; I left him and I escaped. But if I'd stayed, maybe I could've saved him. Maybe he would've avoided capture too.

I focus on the one thing Skylar said that gives me hope: The Mardenites only captured those who were alive.

Beechy is still alive. For how long, I don't know. I don't know what the Mardenites will do to him and the other prisoners. But as long as there's a chance he and Sandy and Uma are alive, there's a chance I can find a way to rescue them once we return to the Core.

 

10

We take as many supplies from the hovercraft as we can: meal rations, water canteens, sleeping rolls, and extra ammunition stuffed into backpacks.

Darren helps me dress the bullet wound on my shoulder, and I treat his leg. The damaged tissue below his knee is starting to fester. I wipe it as best I can with the antiseptic packets in the medi-kit, but he needs stronger antibiotics or the infection's going to get worse. One more reason we need to get off the Surface as soon as possible.

With our sacks slung over our shoulders, we take one last look around the battlefield. Dean and the corporal, Cormac, moved the bodies of the dead soldiers into the hovercraft and shut the air-lock doors behind them. Normally we would've set their bodies on fire, but we didn't want to attract any more raiders to the hilltop while we're still in the area. Now all that's left of the battlefield is the silent hovercraft, the smoke trailing from the piles of rubble, and the lingering smell of the poison gas.

My stomach pinches at the sight of it. If the raiders found our group and attacked us out here in the middle of nowhere, I can only imagine how they've ravaged the city halfway across the Surface. The settlement where I grew up.