Summer Ruins (23 page)

She lets go of Pax and runs into the trees without a backward glance.

The four of us race toward the cabin. Battered faces of kids I unveiled mere weeks ago stare up at me from the ground. A few names snag in my mind—Emily, Lisa, Brandon—but more are impossible to recall. None of them move or blink, but I swallow my horror and keep going.

More of our fledgling army scatters across sticky carpet and slump against baseboards, broken and seeping blood into this place that was once a safe haven.

The screaming that filled the air not five minutes ago has been silenced.

“We check on the Sidhe and Nat, then get out of here,” Pax whispers, his voice dead and emotionless.

“What if some of them are alive? We can’t just leave them,” Lucas hisses back.

“They aren’t here for these kids, although they will report to the Prime about them being here and that will raise questions. We can check everyone after they leave.” Deshi’s voice trembles, betraying his feigned confidence.

The scene in the cabin begins to sink in, and I can’t bite back the revulsion any longer. I retch onto the carpet until my throat burns. Shocking pictures keep flashing behind my closed eyelids; nothing will ever be okay again.

My mouth tastes horrid, but as I manage to stand up, a group of Wardens saunters in from the kitchen, laughing and shoving one another. Dark, crusted blood spatters their tan-and-black uniforms, and the sight of them infuriates me. Without thinking about it, I incinerate them all.

The walls catch fire, too, and it spreads to the curtains. Lucas bails me out, dumping water across the licking flames and saving the bodies of our friends from turning to ashes. The commotion draws the rest of the Wardens, though, and even without the eight I burned up we’re outnumbered.

Before Lucas and Deshi grab my hands, before we travel, I glimpse Nat’s limp form supported between two of his fellow Wardens. Then we’re in Danbury, but it’s only Lucas and I. I don’t know what happened to Pax and Deshi, or where they are. My best guess is that we didn’t discuss where we were going ahead of time, and all thought of different places—probably the place that makes us feel the safest.

“We have to go back, Lucas.”

“Wait.” I ignore him, closing my eyes and pushing heat through one hand, drawing his cold in through the other. “Althea,
wait
!”

“Why?” I try to sound insistent, but it chokes off in a sob.

“They’re still there. We can’t go back until the Wardens are gone.”

“But Griffin and… and Greer, what about…” My words disappear; I’m crying too hard to force them through my throat.

Lucas reaches out, and we fall against each other, collapsing onto the fresh summer grass. It should feel good, but all I can see is it covered in blood. Matted by the lives of kids who we put in harm’s way, who believed us when we said they could help make a difference. They’re dead because they trusted us, and even though they’re not the first—and I have a horrible feeling they won’t be the last—that image of them sprawled and broken and just so
defenseless
refuses to leave my mind.

The Wardens used their strength and crushed them. Slammed them into walls, smashed their bones into pieces against the floor, snapped their necks the way they killed Rita.

I should have found a way to get Brittany a message, to have them move. I thought we had time, that we could get back to protect them before the Prime made a move. Anger at Deshi sprouts like a fountain in my stomach, spilling heat through my blood. He had to have known what was happening. He should have warned them sooner, or given us more time to help before the Wardens arrived.

Lucas’s shoulders shake against mine. Even after these months of having people share my life, my instinct remains to feel as though everything that goes wrong, every decision I make or don’t, is my responsibility alone. But it’s all of our faults. I shared Brittany’s note, and what Fire said.

We all hoped we had more time.

So I lean on Lucas. I sink into his arms and let them keep the world away, and hang on to his shirt so he knows I’m here, that he’s not alone. Our tears mingle until the mixture smears my chin and dribbles down my neck, and when we pull away, we’re both cried out and feeling more like taking action than falling apart.

“Deshi said he got some of them out. And we woke up the Sidhe so they can travel. They might have gotten away.” I look to Lucas for confirmation, for any indication that this shred of hope is warranted.

“There’s no use in speculating until we get back and see for ourselves.”

It’s not exactly the faith I’m looking for, but he’s right. “How much longer should we wait?”

“I don’t know. An hour?”

“That seems like a long time. Won’t they just leave as soon as they realize we’re gone?”

“Maybe.” Lucas tugs on an ear, the hot breeze popping sweat out on his forehead. He wipes it away. “Do you believe Deshi? That he’s on our side now?”

I start to shrug but end up nodding instead. “Both my mother and Brittany believed he’d do the right thing when the time came. He’s been spending a lot of time at the cabin, even though he didn’t have any reason to. I think it’s changed him the way it changed us. Seeing the world.”

“Or maybe he’s been spying on them the whole time.” Lucas wipes his forehead again, and dark stains ring the collar and underarms of his shirt. “It’s so hot.”

“Yeah.” Part of me can’t believe I’m sitting in Danbury in June and not reacting. The rest of me can’t reconcile this beautiful day with the disaster scene in Deadwood. I pick at the skin around my nails, sucking the blood away when it beads up. “I don’t think so, Lucas. You saw his face at the Harvest Site. Deshi was freaking out.”

“You’re right. I just want this to be someone’s fault besides ours.”

“Me, too. But Deshi is ours now.” A thought straightens my spine and gives me a brief focus on something besides my grief. “What if they’ve suspected him ever since he saved us in the Underground Core?”

Lucas stands up, pacing back and forth. “The Prime listened because it makes weird sense to keep us alive just in case, but you’re right. It doesn’t mean he didn’t wonder if logic only hid a change of heart.”

“So they may have kept him in the dark about getting through Nat’s wall until it was too late.”

It makes me feel better to think that Deshi’s not to blame for our friends’ deaths. But it doesn’t erase the horror. We sit in silence for another twenty minutes, and I lay back in the warm grass, trying to soak it up so I can remember what it feels like to be comfortable outdoors.

When I can’t convince my limbs to stay still another moment, I pop to my feet and pull Lucas up at my side. Without speaking we agree to return, and when we get back to Deadwood, it’s silent enough to live up to its name.

Deshi exits the front door of the cabin and spots us, then motions Lucas and I forward. “They’re gone. Probably not for good, so we should hurry.”

The scene hasn’t changed, no matter how hard I wish that it had. Lucas and I bend next to the eight or so bodies scattered across the lawn and on the front porch, checking for a pulse even though Pax and Deshi probably did, too. Some of them have so much blood pooled beneath their heads or spilling out of their torsos that common sense says they’re gone.

Only a few more of their names come to me, a fact that heightens my upset. I recognize Kim and Dan, and one who I think is called Jim. The body of a boy named Lamar, whose back is ripped up by slugs, covers two girls as though he tried to shield them.

They should all be remembered. They died for a cause almost no one knows exists; they’re not going to die nameless, too. Surely we can construct a list with the help of the survivors.

“We have to make sure they’re remembered for this. For being part of the fight.”

Lucas reaches out, pressing a strong hand against the small of my back and makes it possible to stay standing another minute. “We will, Althea. When this is over and everyone knows the truth, everyone who fought and died is going to be a hero.”

We learned about heroes in the books we’ve filched, but reading about the horrible events they overcame to earn that status doesn’t approach the real-life costs staring me in the face.

I nod, moving forward again while strength and conviction fill my heart. This will not be for nothing. We are going to put up such a fight that the Others aren’t going to know what hit them. They’re going to pay for what happened here.

Inside appears even worse than how it lives in my memory. In the bedroom where we left Nat and Greer we find nothing but a mess—covers thrown off the bed, pictures and glass scattered on the floor, useless lamps upended—and a familiar pile of withered flowers on the carpet.

“The other bedroom’s the same. The Sidhe are gone,” Pax reports, looking pale and sick beneath his olive skin.

“I saw the Wardens with Nat. Do we know whether Greer and Griffin were taken or if they got away?” I ask the question even though none of us has the answer. I guess I’m hoping they found a clue somewhere that can answer it.

Deshi shakes his head. “We didn’t see the Sidhe with them, but they could have still been back here when we left.”

“Plus, from what we know of Greer, if they were taking Nat I doubt she’d run away,” Lucas muses.

He’s right, except that maybe it wasn’t up to her. Or perhaps I want to believe she’s okay so badly I force it to make sense in my head.

“Griffin was never injured, and he knew what was happening when we sealed him off. If he woke up first, he might have gotten Greer out of here before she had time to react,” I suggest, wanting to believe it but scared I’m only lying to myself.

“But why wouldn’t he have grabbed Nat, too?” Pax asks.

“I don’t know, but there isn’t any point in speculating.” Deshi puts an end to the conversation when he leaves the bedroom.

We follow him out and find him in the living room, bending methodically over each body and pressing two fingers against each throat, a hand in front of each mouth. In silence, the rest of us join in. I think it’s hopeless after I prod the first three and find their skin cold and rigid. Numbness, like the kind that helped me survive traveling and new families, sinks deep into my mind. As much as I hate the idea of returning to a life I have to survive instead of live, it’s familiar and helps me cope.

The last girl I check is crumpled on the faded rug between the recliner and the fireplace. It looks like she hit her head on the red brick, and dried blood surrounds an open gash on her forehead. Her hair is red, but lighter than mine, almost blond. Golden freckles smatter her pale cheeks and I put a hand on her chest to check my balance. In that moment, it devastates me that I can’t remember her name—in fact, I don’t even remember meeting her.

Then her heart throbs under my palm, weak but persistent. “You guys!”

They jump to my side, these Dissidents, these three boys like me. We all stare as the girl’s eyelids flutter and she groans. When she peers at us, her pale gaze is dim around the edges, and I squeeze her hands to keep her awake. “Hey. How do you feel?”

A hand presses my shoulder, leaning weight into me. It’s not cold, and smells like cinnamon and a spark of smoke: Pax. “Don’t fall asleep,” he tells the girl. He squats beside me, patting her leg insistently. “If you’ve hit your head hard, it’s bad to fall asleep. You might not wake up.”

That gets her attention, and she struggles harder to move. Pax and Lucas help her sit up against the recliner and she takes a few deep breaths.

“What happened?” Her voice doesn’t match her adorable exterior. It’s demanding and brash. Her light eyes fill with irritation when we don’t answer her immediately. “Hey. Everyone is dead. A bunch of Wardens attacked us. Tell me what happened. Now.”

“What’s your name?” I want to know so we can talk, but also because I never want to forget it again.

“Laura. From Des Moines, remember?”

I nod, even though I don’t. “The Prime Other found a way to track the Warden that was hidden here. We learned about it too late to get back in time, but you’re not the only survivor.”

“Who else?”

I look to Deshi, who’s the only one who might know. He blows a few strands of black hair out of his eyes, pursing his lips as though he’s thinking. “Not as many as I’d hoped. Brittany and Wolf are both safe. Jordan, Kerstin, Sophie, Phil.”

“That’s it?” Laura accuses when Deshi pauses to take a breath.

“Sheesh, calm down, Laura. I have to think. I just grabbed the kids closest to the door, and we weren’t stopping to chat. There were more. I counted eleven.”

“You’ve only said five names.” Laura’s eyes are hard, and all at once I realize why. She’s not listening for all the names. She’s listening for a
particular
name.

I scoot beside her, and when she turns to look at me, the fear scuttling across her face becomes clear. There’s nothing I can do to reassure her; instead, I press against her side, offering companionship.

Deshi continues a minute later, counting kids on his fingers. “Brittany, Jordan, Kerstin, Sophie, Phil,” he mutters again. “Alice, Ryan, Ben, Christian, Mark… and Justin. Yeah. That’s all of them.”

Laura squeaks out a sob after the last name, and I know she didn’t hear the one she’d wanted. We’ve all lost people today, and the rest of the group at the tomb is probably anxiously waiting to hear good news that’s never going to come. “Do you think you can get up?”

She nods and lets me pull her to her feet, a little wobbly but otherwise okay. Laura’s head wound starts to weep again. She presses a hand against it and winces. “My head is killing me.” Her eyes widen. “I guess that’s not the right thing to say, is it.”

We don’t answer, moving in an unspoken agreement toward the front door. It’s time to get out of here, to regroup, to make a new plan. Once on the porch, though, the sunshine clears away some of the grief and terror and guilt of the past few hours and innate survival takes over. “Pax, you and Deshi take Laura to the graveyard and tell everyone else what’s going on.”

“What are you two going to do? I think we should get as far away from here as we can, as soon as possible.” Deshi’s mouth pulls down at the corners, worry creasing into his words.