The Deepest Red (47 page)

The white mask continues to glower over me- his black velvet cloak swaying with a sudden step in my direction. With all my might, I push back against the metal bars wishing to escape the gloved hand reaching for me. I cringe as it nears my face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ben speaks up, drawing the cloaked man’s scrutiny. “Remember Nicholas?” The black gloved hand retreats allowing me to find my voice.

“Let us go!” I exclaim, transferring all of my fear into anger. “If you don’t let us go I will kill every last one of you.”

I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s a mixture of defiance, determination and pure terror. The new soldier smirks at my remarks then straightens when he notices the blue cloaked man watching him. Ben ignores my outburst and addresses our visitors.

“She hasn’t been awake for long,” he comments with tension radiating underneath his skin.

“Why is she still handcuffed and crusted with blood? She could’ve been washed while she slept.” The voice projecting unrelentingly from beneath the white mask chills my very core. Ben pales where he stands.

“Didn’t I tell you to clean her up?” I sit, frozen mirroring Ben’s rigidness.

“I’m sorry ma’am but she can’t be trusted. The thought of washing her while she slept didn’t occur to me,” Ben admits, his face that of a repentant man. “Forgive me. Three days without sleep….” he struggles with his words before continuing. “I’ve been sloppy.” Ben rubs at his eyes hard, showing a glimpse into his weariness.

I remain still venturing to wrap my mind around this new information. It’s a woman, not the man I always thought it would be. All of the crows have been men so far. I think back, picturing them. I’ve only seen two of their faces, the old man who attacked me and Nicholas. The other masked figures that were gathered earlier could’ve been women. I can’t be sure. I stare at the black cloaked figure looking for any other distinct tells. She has none.
Damn the crow mask and hood!

The masked woman nods her head and says, “You’re right. I won’t kill you today. I’ve asked a little too much of my men this past week.” Her cloak sways slightly as Ben relaxes a fraction at her words. “Just remember when I release you from your duty today that next time there won’t be any mercy.” She pauses allowing the full weight of her words to settle. “Understand?” Ben nods allowing exhaustion to finally take over his features. “Good.” She remarks almost chipper. “Thomas, please escort our Captain to his tent.”

The skinny man opens the tent’s flaps one last time as Ben rushes through, never looking back. Thomas with a hurried hast follows and vanishes into the dark stormy night.

“Now then, Cliff you may go as well,” she says, dismissing the other soldier.

He startles, “But I can’t protect you-”

The woman lifts a heavy draped hand silencing him.

“I have nothing to fear. Now go.”

Cliff stands unsure for a moment before walking toward the entrance.

“I’ll be right outside,” he says, vanishing into the darkness.

The velvet blue cloaked figure stands like a statue in the corner not having moved since entering. He reminds me of a watchful bird, one who never makes a wasteful or unnecessary movement.

“Jamie, please,” the woman’s voice beckons from across the room. After a moment’s hesitation, the watchful bird concedes.

“You should reconsider,” a gritty damaged voice remarks hoarsely from beneath the crow mask.

I have to listen hard in order to understand what is being said. The voice is so mutilated and muffed from the mask that I find myself wondering what could have happened to cause such a trauma. I chastise myself with a brutal reality, this is the enemy, they killed my friends. I don’t care what type of pain may have been inflicted on them. I just want out of this tent with Jay, to find Lonnie alive. I just want to go home and protect my father. An image of Connor flashes in my head causing an unbelievable desire for survival to flow through me.

The woman removes her worn gloves revealing ivory skin. She then reaches for the crow mask with her bare hands and begins to unfasten the leather material. I hear the sound of latches and brace myself for what is coming. She bows her head allowing the mask to fall away from her face. I shift, nervous to view into the dark heavily draped hood. The shadows keep her well hidden until she lifts her head. The unlatched cloak falls to the floor and my breath catches. The first thing I notice within the dimness is her beautiful hair. The color is deep red, the same color as mine. Her face sharing the same crooked smile and button nose. She approaches cautiously as if I’m a wild animal.

“Millie, don’t be afraid. No one is going to hurt you,” she says, reassuringly.

I don’t know what expression she identifies on my face but she halts a foot away from my reach. The way she holds herself is strong and capable as if she has faced down an army and claimed victory. Her features are too sharp and stern to be called beautiful but yet her presence is drawing.

I realize I’m shaking and my cheeks are wet. I don’t remember crying.

“You’re-” I choke to say the words but they catch on my tongue. I recognize the silver cross hanging from her thin neck. I close my eyes, a sharp pain cutting through my heart. The face before me is that of my mother’s but it isn’t my mother’s. It’s of that her killer’s, my aunt.

In the moment of realization, my mother dies all over again. The depth of the despair and the comprehension of me most likely killing my aunt to escape is overwhelming. Revenge or not, when she dies a large piece of my heart will go with her. I sob.

“Millie.”

My name is whispered softly, lovingly even. I keep my eyes closed one last second pretending her voice is not Katlin’s but the musical tone of my mother’s.

“Oh my sweet-” she cooes until cut off by the mutilated voice.

“Don’t touch her!” He shouts, demandingly. “How many times does everyone need to be reminded?” He lowers his mangled voice. “I’ve seen her fight. I know what she can do.”

My aunt’s furious voice raises above the rain still pounding outside.

“She’s family! Do you hear me!” Her voice is alarming and laced with a blood-curdling menace. When she looks back at me I catch a glimpse of the insanity my great grandmother also had- the insanity that must be generic. “You wouldn’t hurt me?” she asks, switching her voice back into a kinder tone.

The rate at which her expressions change is chilling. I shake my head dumbfounded. Katlin reaches up smoothing the escaping hairs of her braided red locks. She then kicks her cloak to the edge of the tent savagely letting out a frustrated sound.

“Don’t test me Jamie,” she sneers, all the calm she had restored, now gone in an instant. “Today is a good day.”

Fresh tears flow down my cheeks.
What happen to her out in the red zone? How could she ruin our family, kill her sister?
As I gaze at Katlin, all I reveal is the pretend version of my mother I’ve created in my mind, twisted and warped. The air inside the tent is thick and hurts to breath in.

“You’re right,” Jamie confirms. “Her weapons are gone and she wouldn’t dare strike out at you.” The crow mask turns to stare at me. “If she did, she knows we would surely kill her and her friend.”

I glance back to Jay almost forgetting his presence. He is still motionless, leaning up against our metal divider but I can follow the rise and fall of his chest.

“Release her,” Katlin orders, her eyes now the picture of pity and sorrow.

The blue cloaked figure approaches and bends beside me. With a sharp tone he threatens, “If you attack her, I’ll split his throat then kill you.”

The distorted sound of his voice causes the crow’s mask to be more frightening than before. I nod, fighting the urge to rip the mask away. When I’m released from the handcuffs’ tight grasp, I rapidly rub my wrists and remain on the floor.

“Don’t bother your friend. He’s resting,” Jamie remarks as he backs away- his knife in hand.

I should be flattered I scare them so much, but I’m not. It will only make my entrapment more difficult to escape. Katlin rushes forward as soon as I force myself to stand. I’m sore and starving and stumble back when her arms wrap around me. She is thin but not fraile when I put one arm around her. I close my eyes trying to pretend she is my mother but she isn’t. I give myself one more moment of warmth before I push her away. She tumbles back in shock.

“Why would you?” she replies hurt.

The response releases a little bit of my anger now dulled by exhaustion. I feel as if I won’t be able to hold back my madness for too much longer, not while in the red zone.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” My voice lifts in astonishment. “You killed my mother, you ruined my family!” I scan the room for a weapon then notice the heaviness in my boot- Tom’s pocket knife.

“I don’t understand-” she says but I cut her off.

“How could you do that to your own sister? She loved you.”

Misbelief shadows Katlin’s eyes.

“She never loved me! She always wanted what I had. She wouldn’t just leave us alone.” My aunt begins to pace back and forth- her muddy boots ripping at the grass. “I told her to back off. She was grandma’s favorite and she couldn’t stand the fact I had something she didn’t. I was in love and he loved me back,” she rants as she tightens her fists. Pure fury and pain radiate off her but at the same time my own flares brighter.

“You’re insane, delusional,” I shout, finally breaking. “My mom and dad were happy. You and your selfishness broke them apart. The only reason my dad gave you the time of day was because you pretended to be her. He never wanted you Katlin!” I say furiously, my resentment festering bitterly in my stomach.

I scream wanting to ease my suffering. The sound of complete misery packaged along with despair and uncomparable sorrow, rings out. “You took my mother from me and I will kill you for it.”

I reach down into my boot and pull out Tom’s knife. Flipping out the blade, I lunge for her. She deflects my strike with a knife of her own I didn’t even realize she was carrying.

“Stay back, Jamie,” She warns firmly as I strike again.

When I look into her eyes, they are clear and focus. This is her life, the one she chose for herself. A life she must fight or be killed in. She blocks my kicks and punches and somewhere between the attacks a thought wiggles into my brain.
It’s like fighting myself.
Her movements are like mine, her stance, even the way she holds her weapon.

My energy begins to drain, my anger ebbing but I still half heartedly lash out.

“Millie, stop this,” she demands, disapprovingly. “All you’re doing is making yourself weak.”

I lash out again and realize during my whole attack, not once has she struck out toward me to injure. She has only evaded and blocked my every advance. I stop breathing heavy.

“I hate you,” I say, registering the truth that I can’t revenge my mother today.

“You just need a little time,” she replies.

I don’t respond. I’m too disoriented from all the events that have taken place since I left the safety of the prison’s fences, since I left Connor behind. I hold my tears back and embrace the dizziness that overcomes me. Again the darkness swallows my consciousness bringing with the haze, only more nightmares.

I awaken clutched within the sheets of a comfortable full size bed. Sitting up, I notice soft beams of light coming from a nearby window. I pull the blankets away and stumble across the room. Drawing back the drapes of my only view of the outside world, I’m amazed by what I see.

I’m two stories high with a sea of tents laid out on the lawn ahead of me- an enormous camp full of the cult members and soldiers, all  living together. I watch as a young cloaked man, with a crow mask lying at his feet, slaps the hand of another older male- obviously a soldier. They laugh as the younger one picks up a small stack of playing cards from under the other’s hand. A young child runs by them laughing and into the arms of a tall woman. I withdraw from the window suddenly lightheaded.

“Ben thinks you may have had a concussion, but he isn’t a doctor.”

I turn to find Katlin sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room. She has dressed herself back into her velvet black robes, her gloves laid neatly on the wood floor just visible from underneath her crow mask. In her hand Tom’s knife twirls.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I did,” I reply and walk wobbly back to the bed, realizing I’m clean- not a speck of dry blood on me. I’m wearing a large men’s shirt and a pair of baggy pants that sag around my waist.  “Where are my clothes?” I ask.

“Buried, hopefully,” Katlin remarks.

I give her an angry look as I sit back on the bed.

“Alright fine. They’re  being cleaned. I’ll have Thomas bring them to you. In the meantime why don’t you eat,” she says, rolling her eyes at my facial expression and motioning toward one of the nightstands.

“Where is Jay?” I ask but she ignores the question and motions more dramatically.

A plate with freshly cut carrots and squash sits by a glass of clear water. I feel her eyes on me as I reach for the food. I’m too hungry to care where or who the nourishment comes from.

“Thomas!” she yells out into the open air.