Warchild: Pawn (The Warchild Series) (16 page)

He failed. His armies were
obliterated.

The Peaceful Change Movement was no
more, and things were never the same. The government kept control of what
little they had, which wasn’t much, and we became a divided nation.

Finn finishes his story and waits
for my reaction.

It’s so much to take in, so unlike
anything I’ve ever heard about our history, yet the only question I can come up
with, the only one that’s at the forefront of my mind is, “Ellery was a
traitor?”

CHAPTER ● TWENTY-ONE

It’s such a strange feeling when
someone tells you a fact that changes everything you’ve believed your whole
life. Imagine walking outside, looking up at the sky, and having someone prove
to you that the sky isn’t blue.

That’s what it feels like when Finn
explains the history of the Kinders to me and tells me what he knows of
Ellery’s story.

“But,” I say, “you don’t have any
actual proof of this, do you?”

“All the history books say it’s
true. Then there are the old men sitting around telling us what their
grandfathers told them, all the way back to the Old War. Who knows how much has
been distorted with the stories being passed from person to person for a couple
hundred years.”

“What do they say happened?”

Finn shakes his head and readjusts
the pack’s straps on his shoulders. “Not much, really, except that maybe she
was in love with the president at the time.”

“No. Really?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but they
say she did it for love. One woman’s love brought down a revolution and
crippled an entire nation.”

“Do you think it would’ve been any
better if Carter Rash had won his war?”

“It was a bigger world back then. I
don’t know if he could’ve made enough of a difference, you know? If there was a
new person sitting in the White Home, no matter who he was, he wouldn’t be able
to control the weather.”

“But maybe he could’ve made a
difference in other ways.”

We continue to ramble on about the
past and what could’ve been, but I feel like we both know that we’re avoiding
an important conversation. If that nurse really had infected Finn with the
serum, and he’d become a Kinder, and Ellery had turned me into one as well, then
what was to become of us?

We were the last two Kinders. We
weren’t given a choice. We were created.

The retreating horde is moving at a
good clip ahead of us, and we fall further behind. I was feeling isolated
before, but now that I have a better idea of what’s actually happening to me, I
have this overwhelming sense of being even more of an outsider, an orphan. I
want to reach over and take Finn’s hand, because at least we’re together. At
least I have someone to cling to. Being a leader doesn’t mean you don’t need a
shoulder to cry on now and then.

Finn takes a drink from his water
container and hands me the bottle; he asks if I want some. I shake my head. After
hearing the horrible stories about the contamination, I’m not that thirsty. It
took a hundred years for the pollution to dissipate naturally, and I’ve never
had any issues before, but I can’t shake the idea of my insides rotting.

It’ll be dark soon, and I need to spread
the word to make camp for the night. We’ll need to collect water, do a
headcount, and post sentries. Fires need to be built. Game hunted. Injuries
tended to. It takes a lot to keep your people happy, and part of me wonders if
Daniel Allen or Carter Rash, either one, had any clue about what they were
getting themselves into.

However, before I go, I have a
couple of last questions for Finn.

I tug his arm and tell him to stop
for a moment.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Why fifteen? Why that birthday?”

“The history teachers said that was
the minimum age for volunteers—some genetic thing…science stuff that I didn’t
understand.”

“Are we the only two?”

“I think so.”

“You think?”

He looks around like he’s uncertain,
then nods. “I mean, yeah, I know.”

“But how?
How
do you know?”

“Just a feeling. Maybe that’s one of
my special powers or something, but it’s almost like I can sense it. That’s how
I found you, remember? I sensed you. You’re here, right here, and I can feel
this pull between us.”

“Then why did you act so surprised
to see me doing all that stuff, if you knew?”

“You had to figure it out for
yourself. If I’d said something to you about it, you would’ve laughed me out of
the forest. I found you, and I waited. You’re the only one.” He points out into
the woods, north, south, east, and west, then adds, “I don’t feel it coming
from anywhere else. You’re my beacon, Caroline.”

I feel lighter in my stomach when he
says this, and it’s a warm reaction I don’t recognize, not immediately anyway,
because it’s been so long since it’s happened—not since before Brandon died in
the woods.

Finn takes my hand. It’s comforting.

“I have to go,” I say. “I need to
have James stop the march for the night before it gets too dark.”

He smiles. “Duty calls, fearless
leader.”

I chuckle and slap his shoulder. “Find
me later. We’ll eat, and you can tell me more stories about your powers.”

“Okay,” he says. “It’s probably not
that exciting.”

We catch up to the stragglers at the
rear, and I leave Finn to tell them we’ll be making camp soon.

Rather than trying to weave my way
through the crowd, I skip out to the outer edges and pick up my pace, marching
with my head down and legs pumping to catch up to James. My feet ache, my legs
ache, my back is throbbing from the pain, yet I feel lighter, happier, and
relieved that I won’t be doing this on my own. We may be isolated as the only
two Kinders remaining, but at least we have each other.

Even with my head down, I can sense
the others staring at me. Words are carried across the raindrops and misty
breeze where they worm their way into my ear and inside my head. “
There she
is. I hope she doesn’t kill us
.”

I whip my head around to the man
marching next to me. “What did you say?”

He recoils and holds his hands up. I
see the dirt that smears his palms as he shakes in fear. His mouth moves
rapidly, but no words come out. He’s shaking his head and finally manages to
utter, “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

It’s then that I realize that I had
heard his thoughts. Not his words.

He’s thinking, “
Don’t kill me,
don’t kill me, please, don’t kill me
.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” I say
aloud. “I’m here to help you, idiot.”

“W-w-what?”

“Forget it. Get ready to make camp. Spread
the word. We’re stopping soon.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will. Of course.”

I scramble to get away before I can
hear anything else. I don’t like that part. I want it to stop. The speed, the
strength, the physical abilities…I can see how those would benefit me, but
being able to hear someone’s thoughts can only lead to more trouble.

When I reach the front, I find James
leading the procession with Teresa. They’re walking side by side, pushing
themselves forward with walking sticks as tall as they are. They’re laughing,
which is something I don’t expect. I thought for certain he would’ve left her
tied to a tree somewhere, miles back, and, instead, they seem to be enjoying
themselves.

She spots me and waves.

James turns. “Ho, Caroline! The glorious
leader has returned.”

“Why’re you talking like that?” I
ask.

He continues with the strange tone in
his voice. “Young Teresa here tells me that people of a certain influence in
the north—those with something called money, I believe—they speak with a very
dignified tone.” He laughs, coughs, and winks at me. “I’m not sure what
dignified means, but it sounds fun.”

“It’s not, really,” Teresa adds. “They’re
horrible people.” She says horrible in such a way that sends them both into
fits of giggles. James, the giant, burly brute is holding his ribs and doubling
over.

I nod, feeling left out of the fun,
and tell him that we’ll need to make camp soon.

He wipes his eyes with a sleeve,
puts his hands on his hips, and surveys the area. “Looks good here. Nice cover
under the trees. Thick canopy to keep the rain back.”

I point out a couple of places high
on the ridges above us. “Perfect lookout spots up there, too. Let’s do it. Why
don’t you start spreading word back through the crowd?”

Teresa steps forward with a bright
grin and an eagerness that surprises me. “I’ll go. Let me help.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“One second,” James says, his hand
on her shoulder. He takes a deep breath, rears back and bellows, “Halt!” so
loudly that it echoes throughout the valley. “Now go,” he says to her. “Tell
them I’m serious.”

Once Teresa disappears amongst the
masses, I say to James, “Do you trust her now?”

“God, no, but she’s fun. Reminds me
of my daughter, minus the lack of trust.”

“You have a daughter?”

The smile disappears from his face. “Had.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

“It was a long time ago,” he says
with finality, turning back toward the slowing mob.

We stand in silence for a few
awkward moments watching the battered crowd of PRV citizens as they fall to
their knees and lean up against trees. With each passing day, we’ve added more
and more to our numbers, and the closer we get to Warrenville, the better shape
some of them seem to be in. Down here, they’re closer to the supply chain, and
if they need something, it’s easier to make a trek back to the capitol. They
don’t need to go on fruitless scavenging missions just to find an old piece of
leather to patch a boot. I’m sure that if they have something to trade, it’s
not an inconceivable concept for them to get medicines and clothing.

James and I ask some of the fresher
citizens, who’ve only been on the march for a couple of days, if they’ll head
toward the rear and help out those who’ve been struggling since the first day. Thankfully,
they oblige, and it only takes us about an hour to get everyone stopped and
ready to settle in for the night.

Campfires burn under makeshift
shelters to prevent the rain from dampening their heat and the citizens’
spirits.

A young man, who looks to be in his
early twenties, sits next to a woman three times his age. She shudders and
shakes so badly, I can hear her teeth clattering together. He turns a skinned
rabbit on a spit, pulls a bite-sized hunk of the cooking meat free from the
bone, then hands it to her. She has the strength to lift it to her mouth, but
not much more. It breaks my heart.

I kneel beside them both. “I’m
Caroline,” I say. I wait to see if I can hear the fear in his mind. I don’t.

I smile and relax when he answers,
“I’m Dale, and this is my grandmother, Cherise.”

“I haven’t seen you before. How long
have you been with us?”

“Since the day of the sniper. We
joined you that morning, and then…this happened.” Dale lifts his grandmother’s
left sleeve and shows me a blackened, grotesque blotch around a wound on her
upper arm. “She’s not doing so well. How much further to the capitol?”

I wince, hissing between my teeth,
and rock back on my heels. “Not much further, but we have some healers with us.
Why haven’t you asked for help?” I’d seen wounds like that before, back in my
village, when others had accidentally fallen in the forest or cut themselves
with a dull, rusty knife. “She’ll lose that arm if we don’t do something.”

“She didn’t want to slow us down. She
was terrified we’d get left behind.”

“Better than dying,” I answer,
getting to my feet. “Wait right here. I’m going to find someone for you.”

I step around their campfire and
head deeper into the throng of resting bodies. There’s laughter and a guitar
playing while someone sings a song. Moods are high, and it’s good. They know we
don’t have much further.

On one hand, I feel horrible because
I’ve led them to believe that salvation is close. I’ve allowed myself to do
what I promised I wouldn’t; I’ve given them real hope when that may be the very
thing that’s their undoing. I want to have hope myself. I want this escape to
the capitol to be worth it. I don’t know that it will.

On the other, it feels good to be
doing something tangible at the moment. I’m looking for a healer to help a
wounded woman. This is something I can control. The outcome, the resolution, is
easy and obvious because there are two steps involved and no more. One, find a
healer and two, show him where Dale and Cherise are sitting.

I’m so focused on my search that, at
first, I don’t notice the silence falling over the crowd as I pass by. The
awestruck quiet trails behind me like muscle shredding as an arrow passes
through flesh.

I ignore it. There’s nothing I can
do. I find Tom Barner, the healer we picked up three days ago, resting against
a tree. He’s packing shredded tobacco into a pipe.

I open my mouth to speak, and then I
hear the terrified scream.