Gravity (The Taking) (28 page)

She reaches out a shaking hand, leery, but tilts it into her mouth. Once she’s ingested it, I scoop her into my arms and rush for the exit but slam to a halt. Alarms echo from the airport, while commands shout out from all sides.

We’re surrounded.

CHAPTER 29

Chaos everywhere. Guns blast from the right and left, sirens ring from the airport behind, the only sign of refuge is the forest in front of us, and half of the infected run for its shelter. I don’t hesitate, running for the woods’ edge, hoping Gretchen is with me. When I’m well into the woods, I stop, put down the girl, and scan the area for Gretchen, who reaches the woods a few seconds later.

“You have to stop doing that,” she says with annoyance.

“What? I couldn’t carry both of you. Where’s Lawrence?”

“Here,” he calls from behind Gretchen. “I tried to get them to stop. I tried everything.”

“It’s okay. Let’s sort the weapons.” I glance around at the thirty or so infected that made it into the woods, not allowing my eyes to drift to the clearing, to the dead bodies of those who didn’t make it or died before the healing serum worked. We pass around weapons to those closest to us, giving brief instructions on how to use them.

Fires continue to ring out from the clearing, but those guns can’t reach us and they can’t fire a missile into the forest, not with the airport so close. That gives me comfort. The Unity Tree is through these woods, but I have no idea how to get to it from this far away, and the healing serum won’t last long enough to get us there. The only way to get to the port is to fight, and time has to be running out before Zeus closes it. Then all of this was for nothing because we’ll all die anyway.

I creep to the forest edge to get a look at the Operatives, most of them from my training class, which means none of them is older than eighteen and most are weak fighters. They’ll have to come in here to get us. Something tells me these woods are more likely to work in our favor than theirs. Even though we’re outnumbered, we stand a good chance.

I step backward, one step, two, and—
bam
—I slam into someone, and everything in my body tells me this someone is trouble. I whip around just as he pulls his gun. I was so distracted by eyeing up the enemy that I didn’t consider they might come from behind. He tilts his head to the side and smiles before pulling the trigger. Everything slows down, the bullet zooms toward me, and then I’m on the ground in a flash, swiping the trick knife from my boot and jabbing it into his leg. He looks shocked, then his body turns rigid moments before he collapses onto the ground.

Screams ring out in all directions, madness as half the infected run through the woods, never looking back, while the rest of us scramble to find something to hide behind. Shots zoom out from all directions. I can’t tell the difference between enemy shots and ours. I dip behind a large oak, resting one hand on it while I pull out a gun from my holster, but what happens next scares me worse than anything else I’ve experienced today.

My eyes drift to my hand, which has disappeared into the tree, a tingly feeling moving from it to my arm, and then I can no longer feel my hand at all. I jerk it back, shaking it to make sure it’s really there. I need to get into the fight, but all I can do is stare at the tree and then at my hand, wanting to test it again but afraid that it won’t come back out this time or that I’ll disappear into the tree or that something inside it will pull me in. I don’t know. I knew Ancients came through the trees, but I always assumed it was more technical than this. And if we can enter any tree and end up on Loge, then everything is okay. I can call out and tell everyone just to touch a tree. But I can’t risk it. There’s so much I don’t know.

I close my eyes, say a tiny prayer, and charge from the tree, both guns raised. And it’s horrible, horrible. In the time I took behind the tree, there are Operatives everywhere in the forest, fighting, shooting—killing. I don’t know our numbers, but they can’t be good. I start for the first group I see, two Operatives barreling in on an old man who I have no clue why he stayed. I’m about to fire when the old man leaps into the air, his Ancient ability, so innate now, overcoming him. In a blur, the two Operatives are on the ground, stumbling to get back up. The man raises a hand, stopping me from helping, and I smile at him, proud, and then he’s shot in the head from behind, blood squirting across the Operatives in front of him.

“No!” I shout, racing forward to catch him, but the Operatives are up now, facing me, ready to attack. Anger hits in my chest, and before I can think, I shoot them both in the heads. There’s no time for guilt, even though I feel it climbing from my stomach, and I know if there weren’t five others running for me right now, I would vomit. Instead I run to meet them, ready to do whatever I must, if only I could keep my vision straight or the ringing in my ears would stop. I allow my other senses to take over, feeling what they feel. They encircle me, half boys, half girls, all of them from my training class.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “I’m human, just like you. You don’t have to listen to what they’re telling you. Listen to me. You don’t have to die today. You can go home right now, and no one will know.”

“Enough,” a boy with black hair and equally black eyes says. “You disgust me. Calling yourself human. You’re a freak of nature. Stand down, everyone. She’s mine.”

I shake my head. “I warned you.” And then I’m on him, his gun flying from his grasp, punching him again and again. I don’t want to kill these people, these kids. Maybe I can just—
Bang, bang, bang!

I suck in a breath as Law comes into view to my right. How he managed that shot, I’ll never know, but what I do know is the look on his face will stay ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life. Shock, guilt. He isn’t a killer. Gretchen and I were trained for this, but not him.

“Law,” I say, racing over to him because he looks like he’ll collapse to the ground at any second.

Law’s head twitches, and then his moment of weakness is gone, replaced by resolution. “It’s fine. They’re coming.” He motions behind me as the remaining four Operatives close in.

“I’ve got this. Go find Gretchen,” I say, not pulling my eyes from the Operatives, forcing my mind not to see them for what they are but what they will do if I don’t stop them. I reach down and pull out the laser gun I took from Dad’s private stash in our training room. They see the gun; some maybe even recognize it from our first training. Two stop cold, a boy and a girl who I remember were both horrible shots. “Go!” I scream at them, and they run off, leaving the two remaining members of their team behind. Another time, I would have called them cowards, but I was ignorant then, not understanding that war is about a lot more than courage. It’s about what’s right, separate from expectation or orders.

The last two are within three yards of me when I say, “Don’t do this.” But the first one has already pulled his gun, the second reaching for hers, and I fire, zapping both in the chest. Their faces pale, their mouths drop in shock, and then their bodies fall to the ground, crunching into the leaves.

I release a breath I hadn’t realized I held and turn around to examine the situation, but what I see through the woods on the metal ceiling of the execution base is enough to send me running through the woods, screaming. Five infected and Gretchen, all kneeling down in front of four Operatives, Law a few feet away, tied up, pleading with the Ops to stop. They won’t kill him; they can’t—he’s the next president. I hear the first gunfire and an infected hits the metal ground, blood pouring over the silver. I push harder, but someone gets to me first, pulling me back.

“Shhh,” Cybil whispers. “We need to get around behind them.”

“No,” I whisper back. “I have a laser gun. I can get them from the edge.”

“You can get one, not all.”

I know she’s right, but while we sit there talking, another person is about to die. “Fine, what do you suggest?” I peer around her to the forest, my eyes widening as two, four, ten infected step out from behind trees. We did better than I thought, and some of them ran anyway, so maybe this was worth it after all.

They ease closer to hear Cybil. “Stay at the forest edge, but half of us to the right of them, half to the left. Ari, shoot one of the Ops holding Law; that way they’ll all look over, and then when we charge, they’ll be off their guard.”

I start to tell her that we need to match person to person, so shots aren’t wasted, when a cough threatens to release and I grab my chest, swallowing it back. Oh no.

“You okay?” she asks, her face wrinkled in concern.

“Yeah, fine.” I don’t have the heart to tell her my serum is wearing off, and if we don’t get going, I may be unable to move, let alone shoot. I point to each person in our group, assigning a target to each, and then nod to Cybil. “I’ll go right; you go left.”

We separate, our steps light against the forest leaves, never crunching under our weight. I reach the right side, watching the backs of the Operatives, just as one starts yelling at those kneeled in front of him to disclose who infiltrated the base. Over and over he yells. I guess they realize it had to be done by an insider. My eyes lock with Cybil, she nods, and I fire at the Op standing over Law. He falls back, and then we’re storming from the forest, shots ringing out. Gretchen stands, pulls a trick knife from her boot, and shoves it into the chest of the Op in front of her. She races for Law, cutting him from his ties, and the two of them join the fight, but there are more Operatives coming from all sides, and only ten of us left. Only ten.

I motion for my group to get the other infected back into the safety of the forest. Shots come from all directions. I shoot back, aiming at one then another, but it’s no use, more and more come from the airport, around the sides of it, everywhere.

And that’s when it hits me.

My vision blurs, everything slowing down. I spot the little girl I saved, the one I gave my last serum to, hiding by the airport. She cups her hands around her ears, her knees shaking, while slow tears course down her face as though a faucet were left on. I want to scream for her to run. I want to save her myself. But suddenly a coughing fit erupts from my mouth, blood mixed with bile. I draw a breath, no longer hearing what happens around me. An Operative fires, killing an infected. An infected shoots, killing an Operative. So much death. My eyes find the little girl’s, and we’re locked on each other, unable to look away. I see her tears, and it’s as though they’re mine—they are mine. But I can’t cry. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I draw another breath, and it’s like I can feel the poison eating my muscles, boiling my blood.

Then I hear my name shouted again and again. A female Operative, one I recognize though I can’t remember her name, hears it, too, and she lifts her gun, squaring her shoulders to fire.

“No!” A scream, a voice I recognize. The female Op falls, blood pouring from her, and then he’s in front of me, snapping in front of my face for me to see him, begging me to see him. Jackson holds my face, burying it in his, but I can’t say anything.

“Don’t die on me. Come on, stay with me. Please…” I suck in a short breath, and my knees buckle as Jackson sweeps me into his arms. “Hold on. Please just hold on,” he says, his voice rattling. He calls my name over and over, but it sounds distant, a cacophony against the peaceful chorus I hear, like birds, singing me to sleep. I try to fight off the sound, fight off the heaviness of my eyelids, but the sound is too beautiful, sleep too peaceful. My body surrenders, relishing in the birds’ melody. I smile.

And then it’s gone.

CHAPTER 30

My mind flashes in nonsensical scenes. A wrinkled woman hovering over me. Jackson beside me, holding my hand. Screams echo in the background. The woman returns, jerks my head back, and shoves something warm into my mouth that tastes and feels like cooked paper or dried leaves. I try to spit it out, but she clamps my mouth shut.

“Chew, human. Now,” she commands.

I fight against her arm, so she yanks my mouth open, pouring icy liquid in so fast I have no choice but to choke or swallow.

I swallow.

The clump of cooked goo rushes down my throat, slicing the sides as it goes. I want to puke; I’m going to puke. Then it hits my stomach, and I’m on fire. Every ounce of my body burning, burning, burning. I wonder if this is how the combustion Ancients felt, because I know any moment my insides will burst out of my skin from the pressure. Sweat collects on my forehead, running down the sides of my face, under my arms, under my knees…all over. I’m drenched on the outside, burning on the inside. Hell encapsulated.

Then as quickly as the fire found me, cold replaces the hot, freezing its way through the veins of my body until every part of me feels first relief then fear. My entire body is numb. I try to breathe, but the air sucks in and out in short bursts. Panic ensues, and inside I’m screaming, outside I can’t speak. The woman reappears above me, jerking my eyelids up from their half-open stupor.

“You see, human?” she says.

I nod.

“You feel?”

I shake my head—at least, in my mind it’s shaking—and she mumbles something before returning with a tiny ceramic cup. “Drink this; be better,” she says, forcing the cup to my mouth. I part my lips but not enough, so she pries the cup through the small opening and tilts it down. I cringe at the bitter taste. A mix of black coffee and lemon pours over my taste buds. My body jerks about, either from the concoction or the horrifying taste, I’m not sure. Then suddenly I feel perfect, neutral, and a tad high, like I’ve had a few too many drinks but not enough to be reckless.

“Yes?” she asks.

I nod, fighting against the stupid smile enveloping my face, but I can’t help it. I’ve felt so sick for so long. “More,” I manage to say.

She breaks into laughter, patting my hand. “You good now, child. Sleep.”

And I do.

I wake later—hours, minutes, I’m not sure. Someone approaches at my stirring. The woman from my dreams, perhaps, or maybe that was real.

“How are you feeling?”