The Wounded

Chapter One

I’m collapsing into a dream. Folding in on myself over and over until I’m nothing but a pinch of paper.

I know I’m not where I’m supposed to be.

The arms holding me are the wrong arms—wiry and warm. But it is unwelcome warmth.

The slosh of mud lapping around boots was my first reminder. I screwed my eyes tightly shut, trying to keep it out as it rapped loudly on my aching head. My boots swung limply back and forth past the trees. My trees. I let the smell of wet fronds and bent pine needles swirl around me, grateful I was at least back in the forest. I imagined myself cradled in a bough: Leaves swept across my face, branches held their slender limbs across the tree’s mouth-like hollows and whispered, ‘shh’.

Shh! She’s waking up.

Movement ceased, ejecting me from my dream. Smooth fingers grazed my face. The wrong fingers. I opened my eyes warily. It was unfamiliar, yet not, like half of me wanted to nestle into his chest and the other half knew not to.

As I let the light in, the exposure cleaning up and drawing the fuzzy shadows into sharper images, the first thing I saw was my own eyes staring back at me. I closed mine slowly, hoping the view would change like a slide clicking over. But when I reopened them, I still saw my eyes in a man’s face. A worn face, which once you rubbed back the lines and pulled up the skin, was a face that looked just as I remembered. A ghost. I shouted out and sprung from his arms, landing in the mud and splattering everyone’s concerned faces.

You, was all my feeble head could come up with as I stumbled woozily for several seconds, pointing my shaky finger accusingly at the tall, dark man in front of me. As I connected the random pathways that brought me here, threads of sense drifted in front of my eyes, but I couldn’t quite pull them together. The daughter in me was stubbornly fighting against the truth.

I ran my hands through my hair and grasped at the strands, pulling them together into a thick rope in my fist. I shivered, the air wet and sludgy around me. My aching head took in the darkness creeping away as morning peeled back, slow and heavy like the night didn’t want to give in.

He approached me gently, hands held out in front of him like he expected me to climb back into them. I shook my head, feeling nauseous and upended. When he made a sudden move towards me, I startled like a deer. He pulled back, looking hurt. He would never harm me, but I was afraid of what he might say. I leaned airily, putting my hand out to steady myself, but connected with nothing. Rash was quickly at my side, and I held onto his arm to stabilize myself physically and mentally.

Rash. I had Rash. My heart pumped faster, and my blood warmed as I felt the real fleshiness of him.

I looked down at my feet, twisting my ankles and burying them in the mud. How long? I asked the ground, little bubbles popping around my sinking boots. I felt childish, like I was eight years old again.

You’ve been out for a few hours… Careen said, her face creased with relief.

No, I said, my index finger up in her misunderstanding face. My mouth quivered with held back sobs. I raised my eyes to meet this stranger and half-yelled, half blubbered, How long?

His eyes drooped in the corners, his mouth building up to what was going to come out. Since before you were born, he said, his smooth voice grating, like someone was raking sandpaper across my ears. So, always. He had been a Spider, always.

I nodded, resignedly. Some part of me, some tiny shard that had been sitting in my chest for years, slowly loosened and came out of my mouth with a huge sigh. Yeah, I thought so, I said, as my shoulders pulled in around me. If I could curl into a ball, maybe I could shut this out. Roll away.

He tentatively approached me, stalking me like I was a wounded bird with a small plea in his eyes, I tried… I’m sorry… Then it sounded like… Something, something, something. I couldn’t listen.

I put one hand up to stop him, the other cradling my aching head. I just… I can’t… I shook my head slowly like it was caught in a thick web and walked away from him, leaning heavily on Rash. Careen stood there, blinking her big, blue eyes, the light starting to curl around her feet.

A morning like any other, except this morning I would like to have clamped down and shoved back in the ground.

My father was alive. He stood in front me, unwavering like a solid ghost. I should have been happy to see him. But after everything I had been through, all I could think was, you deserted me. And what do you want from me?

The world slanted. I walked almost sideways, and Rash leaned me rather roughly against a tree before I tipped to completely horizontal.

I put my hand to his face, his skin so cool, so ready to pull into a grin. He traced under my eye with his thumb and said, You know, that shiner makes you look dangerous and sexy.

I snorted, the unfamiliar rumbling of laughter working its way through my body. I smacked his head to the side with the force of a feather. Shut up!

He grinned, and my heart swelled like sunlight was trying to push out of it, painfully. Seriously. It makes your wrong eye stand out less, he said with a wink. I rolled my eyes, wondering which eye he thought was the wrong one.

I slid down and rested in the mud, the water seeping into my trousers. Rash squatted beside me. So, that’s your dad, huh?

I put my head in my hands, trying to wish away some of the complicated feelings I was having. Yep, wrong eyes and all.

Chapter Two

We waited as long as we could but with time pressing down on us, Pietre to find, and the constant threat of wolves, I could only let the trees cradle me for so long. I had to roughly staple myself back together so we could get home.

Still clutching Rash like I was scared he would disappear, I let him drag me back to the others.

The light filtered through the trees, heavy with mist, making the air dance with every disturbance. It was close to morning but the clouds hugged the ground, refusing to untwist their grip and return to the sky. Pelos, Lenos, my father, or whoever he was, stood with Careen, mist swirling around their knees like grasping spirits, both their faces lit up by the glow of the reader. I cocked my brow at him. I swear he used to be taller.

He turned, took a step towards me, and paused. Are you hungry, Rosa? My name sounded bizarre coming from his dark lips. But my stomach reminded me we hadn’t eaten in over a day by clenching and gurgling. I nodded. He smiled at me, dipping his hand into his backpack.

Careen said you left your supplies with the other Survivor, er, Pietre? Here, take some of these. He held out a zip lock bag, the muffins inside popping with canned raspberries. It was an old specialty of his, and the memory struck me like I was being twanged like a rubber band. I accepted the food. It was delicious and just how I remembered. I played with the wrapper, folding it into a tiny triangle. He was watching me, watching my old habits resurface, making himself recall things, too. I shoved the paper in my pocket.

He offered a canteen of water and I grabbed it, washing down the sad muffin stuck in my throat. Careen tells me you escaped from the breeding program, he said, his words staccato-clipped, his face animated. What was it like? Did you meet Este?

I gulped and glared at Careen. She recoiled, confused.

It was a nightmare, I said, trying to match his clipped tone. And, no. I didn’t meet Este. I rolled my eyes.

Oh. No matter. Such a brilliant woman. Just imagine what she could accomplish if she used her skills for good, he said, tapping the air. Then, as if twisting to reveal another side of his personality, his tone changed to smooth and lulling. Was there a child?

Rash took a step back from me, giving us a small amount of privacy, which I didn’t want, scratching his leg nervously. Careen also hung back, both of them observing this odd reunion. Watching the two of us interact in this awkward manner was like watching two strangers who had met maybe once, someplace, but couldn’t quite remember where or when.

Something pulled at me from inside. Cage bars shot up in front of my eyes. I hugged my arms around my chest. There was a child. I mean, there is, I said.

Rash’s eyes widened as he started to comprehend what I’d just said.

Pelo’s face relaxed into an easy smile. I’m a grandfather, he said proudly, mostly to himself.

I hugged myself tighter, trying to hold myself back from launching at him. Grandfather. The word infuriated me. He had no claim over my child, no right to a relationship with him. I put my hand to my head, feeling a radiating headache from where I’d clipped it on my mother’s table. She had much more right to claim grand-parentage than he did. I stared at him, willing him to change into her, wishing it so hard I thought I might collapse in a soaking mess of tears in front of everyone. My failure squashed me under its weight, robbing me of energy and breath.

I took a step towards him, not sure what I wanted to do.

He leaned back, tapped his chin, and spread his arms wide. Well, this is wonderful! It has begun. The breakdown of the system. And you’re part of it, Rosa. We are part of it! he said excitedly. He didn’t say, oh you poor thing, that must have been hard for you. Or even how did you manage to escape? My impressions of him started to form around the thin frame I’d already constructed from the day he left me. His priority was the cause, the rebellion. I was a side project, which failed.

As if reading my mind, he threw in as an aside, Well done. It must be difficult, raising a child on your own. I cringed at the odd congratulation. I didn’t deserve it.

I heard Careen suck in a breath ready to blurt, Oh, she’s not…

I cut her off and stared at her lips, pinning them together with my mind. "I’m not doing too badly, am I, Careen?" I nodded my head, begging her to keep quiet and nod along with me. I couldn’t deal with the questions that would come from bringing Joseph into the conversation.

The next few hours went by in a blur of Pelo peppering Careen with probing questions about the Survivors. I’d decided on Pelo because he didn’t feel like my father, but calling him by his new name seemed wrong as well. He knew more than me about the coming plans, but he wanted specifics: the colors, the shapes, the tastes. He seemed to demand full sensory explanation, and it was amusing watching Careen try and beat him back with her short answers.

We’re not likely to be pursued, Pelo said, his smile cartoonish, Most of the soldiers, save a skeleton force, have been sent to search of your settlement. They left a week ago. So they have a bit of a head start on us. I wondered why he smiled at this. The idea that Woodland soldiers were on their way to my home still filled me with absolute terror, but I had to hope that, as with everything, the Survivors were prepared for this outcome.

Careen flipped her hair and a thin lipped almost-smile spread across her face. They don’t have Spinners though. Her voice was distant as her eyes searching the terrain in front of her. We’ll catch up. She was barely listening to the animated stick insect beside her. Her thoughts were with Pietre.

Pelo clasped his hands together in eagerness, hungry for information. Spinners?

I laughed as Careen tried to explain what a Spinner looked and felt like.

Their voices faded out as I stared at Rash like he might be an apparition. I could almost see his shape wobbling and wavering in front of me.

Every now and then, he’d crack a joke, he would smile, and he would support me as much as he could as I tried to overcome my concussion, but I could tell this was overwhelming for him.

My struggles came from deeper inside. I was trying to put two men together in my head. The man I’d looked up at, whose every move, every word, had been mesmerizing to me. Back then, everything he’d said had to be The Truth. His voice was brimming with promises, his enthusiasm, catching. Looking at him now, through older eyes, he was exactly the same… but completely different. Because I was different. He was like an excitable toddler in a grown man’s body, his reactions to everything naïve and over the top.

We pulled through the woods, mud splattered up to our knees, our boots twice as heavy with all the caked-on dirt. We scanned back and forth, looking for signs of wolves or soldiers. It was unnervingly quiet. We had only the food Pelo had scraped off his kitchen counter, muffins and a few oranges. The forest only offered dried remnants of berries left by other animals. As we dragged on, every branch and slippery log started to look the same. Had we turned around? Was that the damned red arrow leading us back to Pau?

I was filthy and miserable. The loss of my mother and my new sister bobbed in and out of my head like a tainted tea bag. I’d blown it. At least I knew they would be safe from Paulo. My only consolation was Rash, trudging along, keeping up easily, dragging me by my jacket sleeve.

So, a kid? he asked, his dark eyebrows rising in surprise.

I nodded. His name’s Orry.

I let my mind wander from Orry to Joseph, wondering what they were doing right now. Was he missing me? I missed him so much I couldn’t breathe. When I closed my eyes, his memory wrapped around me like golden tethers. I thought of our night together, and I thought I might crack open right there. I put my arm across my chest, feeling the pain physically wound me.

A hand patted my shoulder awkwardly. That bad, huh? What? Does the little terror scream all night and crap all day?

I pressed my fingers to my lips, letting the memory of Joseph’s kiss lag there. Rosa?

What? No. Well, sometimes, but mostly he’s perfect. My beautiful boy, how did I leave without saying goodbye?

Rash lowered his head, shaking it minutely. "Who would’ve thought it? Miss I’m never having a kid, happy with a bouncing baby boy."

I smiled sadly. It wasn’t that simple. It’s taken me a long time to get to this point. Joseph helped, I whispered.

We pushed through low-lying branches, some showing signs of life, persistent, hardened buds that would soon sprout blossoms. I let one spring back and slap Rash in the chest. He coughed dramatically. Ahem. Joseph?

I wasn’t sure how to say it, how to make Rash understand the tunnels I had pushed through to get here, the darkness Joseph dragged me out of, and what was on the other side. Love.

I jerked Rash to me and whispered close to his ear, my voice breaking a little as I said, I fell in love, ok? It’s complicated. He’s Orry’s father. Umm, not that we had… umm, not then anyway. I was confessing way too much here, my words jumping over one another in a jumble. You know him. He was at the Classes; he came from Pau like me. He rescued me, from so many things.

Recognition followed by amusement flickered over Rash’s face. You and beautiful blond man had a baby? Rash laughed. Nice one, Soar. He knocked my shoulder and I flew forward, scratching my arm on some barbed, black rocks. I glared up at him, but when I saw his true and somewhat congratulatory smile, my face softened. I didn’t have to manufacture words for Rash. I didn’t have to give him part of the truth and hide the rest. He was my friend, and he accepted every part of me.

The realization came coupled with a bleeding graze on my hand, drawing my eyes back to the black rocks. I followed the way they scattered and built, collecting stature as they went. I smiled slowly. The beginnings of the black, craggy cliffs were to my right. We were close.

I cupped my hand to my mouth and yelled out carelessly for Careen.

She turned, whip-like, knowing instinctively what I was shouting about. I pulled myself up and started running, leaving the men behind.

Careen grabbed my hand and we ran along the base of the cliffs, snatching looks upwards, searching for holes, signs. It suddenly felt like minutes were important, that if we didn’t sprint, somehow Pietre would be out of time.

My mind felt giddy. How long had it been since I knocked Pietre out and ran for the wall? Two days maybe? It wasn’t long, but he was injured and unconscious and… I picked up the pace, grabbing at the sun-warmed rocks and levering myself forward. We scrambled over and around, pushing out when they were too high. Pelo and Rash wound their way behind us, picking carefully over our plough marks of snapped branches and dug-up dirt.

As we headed around the biggest outcrop, I knew we were nearly there. I could feel it. I stopped abruptly for a breath and to steel myself, inadvertently yanking Careen backwards. I noticed Rash and Pelo had disappeared from sight. I stood, panting, searching for their clambering bodies, waiting, my eyes straining, my body wanting to propel forward. Where were they?

I felt a burrowing panic with every breath. Clenching my fists, I cursed myself for letting him fall behind. How could I let him go when I’d only just found him?

Careen tugged at my shirt anxiously, her eyes brimming with tears. A breeze tickled the back of my neck, and I shivered as it swept across my sweaty skin. It swirled along the ground and disturbed the bushes enough for me to see the two men shoving their way through the underbrush. I drew in a deep breath, relieved, and then spluttered.

A heavy, rotten smell knocked at our noses. The smell of death.

Chapter Three

Careen surged forward suddenly. I caught her arm, jerking her back. She turned to face me, her eyes wet, her cheeks flushed and tight. Let go of me, Rosa, she said, shaking her arms half-heartedly. She was scared. We both were. Going forward meant finding the origin of that smell.

It’s not him, I told myself.

I shook my head, feeling my stomach turning and twisting at what I was about to volunteer to do. I’d seen Joseph die in front me. It was an image that I’d never shake free of. If I could spare Careen that, I would.

I stood on my tiptoes to look Careen in the eyes and summoned my best fake courage. I’ll go first.

She managed a tiny nod, turning her back to me. Two minutes, she muttered weakly to the tree trunk she was facing, looking like the tip of a match against the pale timber. Then I’m coming after you.

Rash stumbled forward and hooked his arm in the crook of my elbow. I froze, remembering Clara. It added layers to my courage. I couldn’t lose anyone else. I didn’t care how irritating Pietre was. I let my hand fall from my hip and held on tightly to Rash’s cool hand.

We moved forward, hesitantly. I grimaced, opened my mouth to speak, and gagged at the foul air that entered. It was so dense I could almost see it wafting past my face. A sickly green color, unmistakably rotting flesh. I pictured what I might find through the trees, as the breeze seemed to tunnel the swamp-thick stench directly towards us. I disliked Pietre, but I didn’t want to find his remains sprawled across the mud, torn to pieces.

Why didn’t he just stay in the cave? I knew why… because he was a stubborn bastard.

We dragged our feet, taking our time, but then I heard Careen shout that she was coming in thirty seconds, so we plowed through the curtain of smell, our shirts pulled across our faces, which did absolutely nothing. We got to a point where the smell was so bad that the source had to be close. I pulled the shirt down and breathed in carefully, immediately doubling over and vomiting water and bile. Rash took one look at me and hurled the contents of his stomach at the base of a tree.

It didn’t make any sense. The smell was at its strongest where I stood, but I couldn’t see a body. I swallowed hard as I thought maybe the police had killed Pietre and buried him, but then surely the smell wouldn’t be this pungent. I scratched at the dirt with a stick, searching half-heartedly for evidence of a grave, when a flurry above my head caught my attention. Strands of hair waved over my nose like a small breeze had come out of nowhere, just to push more stink in my face. I ran my hands over my scalp, pulling my hair back, and then something wet splashed onto my hand.

I inspected it and had to hold my mouth with my other hand to stop from vomiting again. It was blackish green, viscous, and I have never smelled anything as putrid in all my life.

A flutter and a caw drew my eyes to the sky. There, dangling from the branches like some grotesque puppet, was the deer Careen had killed, or at least parts of it. The one she had cut up and thrown into the tree to distract the wolves. We were surrounded by a circle of decomposing chunks of animal, and its head was dangling above me. It stared at me with rotted eyes, half its stomach pouring down the trunk. A black crow pecked at its middle. I stumbled backwards into Rash’s chest, heaving. Panicking.

Get it down. Get it down now, I said, my voice a thin, hoarse whisper. Oh God. I turned, my stomach heaving again, but nothing came out. Rash pulled my hair back from my face and held me for a moment.

Careen came bounding towards us just as Rash poked the carcass with a stick, and it fell in a sloshy heap at the foot of the tree. Her face flooded with relief. Pelo was right behind her.

This was where we had started. This meant we had to be directly in front of the cave.

I broke off a few pine branches still heavy with needles and laid them over the deer’s torso. Pelo patted me on the back and did the same. Life given and life taken, he muttered. I rolled my eyes at him, wondering how I could be related to someone so weird.

In the light of day, free of slamming winds and snow, the cliff should have looked less imposing, more manageable. It didn’t. When I looked at it now, I thought maybe we flew up there the night we dragged an unconscious Pietre into the cave. It seemed just as likely. I grabbed Careen around the waist and pulled her close to me. She giggled. Can you believe it? I asked, my eyes tracking up and down the black mass.

No, I really can’t. It’s a lot blacker than I remember. But then it was dark, she said. Rash raised his eyebrows at her nonsensical statement. I laughed shortly, cut off by the sound of shuffling and moaning coming from the cave entrance.

Pietre’s face appeared, framed by shadow. Squinting into the light, he slid on his belly like a snake towards the edge, his face green and ghostly.

Rash expelled a complicated series of swear words before scrambling up the cliff. When he got to the top, he dragged the soldier’s weak body up to lean against the wall before Pietre fell over the precipice like a blob of snow. He looked thinner, greener, sweatier and, if it was possible, angrier. But he was alive. He drew his hand back mechanically, his purplish swollen face set in a menacing grin.

Poor Rash, the whir of the stunner warming up was not warning enough, and he was propelled into the opposite wall before anyone could do a thing.

It took us a moment to react before scratching our way up the cliff, copying Rash’s adept moves. Careen reached the top first, breathless but happy, and Pietre’s eyes softened when he saw her. They collapsed together in an awkward embrace, Careen straddling Pietre to avoid his leg.

Rash lay crumpled against the cave wall, his eyes closed, his mouth pursed in pain. I shook him, but he didn’t wake. I turned to glare at Pietre. He was trying to help you.

Pietre ignored me and returned to Careen. Did you complete the mission? he asked, kissing her in between each word.

Pelo stepped forward, and Pietre shrugged Careen off like an itchy blanket. He looked Pelo up and down, extending his hand in greeting. You’re the Spider?

Yes, Pelo answered, as he shook Pietre’s hand enthusiastically. Pietre narrowed his eyes and looked to Careen, who was now sitting cross-legged next to him, with a strange mixture of annoyance and relief creeping over her perfect features.

This is Lenos Bianca, she said. Pietre raised his eyebrow at the last name, but said nothing.

And your mother? Pietre asked, shifting his leg and turning a deeper shade of green.

I turned from Rash, color creeping into my cheeks under Pelo’s unwavering stare. She couldn’t come, Careen answered for me. I waited for the taunting to begin, but Pietre let the issue slide, for now.

Rash’s dark lashes fluttered. I grabbed a bottle of water, lifting it to his lips. He sipped and spluttered. Whoa! he said, chuckling. What a ride. I smiled and marveled at his resilience. He wiped his hands on his pants and extended his hand towards Pietre, introducing himself as a flash-fried Indian. I grinned, and Pietre scowled.

What day is it? Pietre asked, ignoring my giggles and Rash’s beaming grin.

When we told him, his eyes rolled back and he hit his forehead, hard.

So much cursing followed, even the trees were blushing.

Chapter Four

Y ou should have let me die, Pietre said through clenched teeth.

I wasn’t expecting gratitude, or much of anything, but this seemed extreme. We have one day to get to the line. Otherwise, the others will be like sitting ducks waiting for us to arrive. He pulled his broken leg up by the pants, bringing it closer to his good leg, making a pitiful squeaking noise as he dropped it down. Now you will have to leave me, or you will never get to the Spinners in time. He turned to Careen, whose lip quivered, her pale face blotched pink. Even looking as pathetic as she did, she was still stunning. Then Pietre did what I knew he would, he drew the knife from Careen’s thigh and placed it in her hand dramatically, patting it like it was a gift. She stared down at the blade, disbelieving. "I only ask that you