Chapter 4

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The clock in my visor read August 13, 2:07 pm when I woke. Next to it, a sun symbol told me there were six hours until sunset. I hadn’t kept track of how long I slept, but most of my superficial wounds healed. My soul would take time.

  The priest’s soul and mine hadn’t fully merged and tore along the edges like stitches ripped apart during the fights. As long as I pulled the gap tight, I could still use his ability, but there’d be pain until our souls blended. I rushed to finish before the scabs entered the cavern, and it was only my second time combining souls.

  After finding a brook that flowed into the marsh, I washed the gore from my body and clothing. I wasn’t clean, but not filthy by current world standards. When we were kids, Lia and I swam in a little brook behind our first house during the summer. Mom would spray us with the hose and yell at us for swimming in a filthy brook.

  I don’t think she cared, but she had to pretend at least. After all, everyone knew brooks were dirty. But what would she think now? Now that brooks were cleaner than everything else, would she still pretend to be angry? It was a stupid thought, but I missed my mom’s hose.

  With my hygiene needs settled, I went back to my makeshift home and weaved the tears in my soul. It was slow work, and sharp pains pinged through my jaw from biting a branch to stifle yells, but by the time the helmet alerted me to a new signature, I had finished.

  Standing on top of the rise, gun in hand and wearing a bicycle helmet, was a man following the trail left behind by my fight the night before.

  I placed the helmet on my head, grabbed my metal club, and peeked over the log. Going by essence, he wasn’t strong, but I had underestimated the others, and he was higher on the ridge than me.

  The fallen tree provided enough cover for me to creep out of my hole, but no matter how I approached, he would hear me. Running towards him up a hill was foolish, so I crouched low and moved until he was just out of sight, then quietly climbed.

  Once I reached the middle of the ridge, I turned in his direction and stalked him for close to 20 minutes. He hadn’t traveled far, cautiously following the tracks from the night before, until I stepped on a branch less than 100 yards away.

  He turned and fired. The wild shot had little chance of hitting me. I didn’t know a lot about guns, but grandpa told me the longer they were, the more accurate. The man was using a handgun.

  We ran towards each other, him firing and me using trees for cover until we were less than 50 feet away. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and held my club tight. Unless he ran out of bullets, I didn’t think I’d reach him without getting shot. I didn’t want to drag out the battle. After counting to three and building up my courage, I jumped out from behind the tree and stormed in his direction.

  Bullets whizzed past me, with two striking my vest like a hammer to my chest, and a final one hitting my leg. I stumbled from the shot, but I was too close for it to matter. My head slammed into his chest, and we rolled downhill until a boulder cushioned our fall.

  He grabbed the back of my vest and lifted me from the ground, but once I was on my feet, I spun around and kneed him to the groin.

  “You bitch.”

  There were no coincidences in this world. That’s what grandpa told me, and I was finally starting to believe him. I didn’t recognize his face, but only one person had that voice.

  He stumbled back from the knee shot, and I slammed the club down onto his arm. There wasn’t any blood from the strike, but the way his arm dropped to his side and the sound of his scream told me everything I needed to know. He fell to his knees, cradling his arm, and I kicked him in the face.

  I kicked his head until I was sure I knocked him out, then fell to the ground. After taking a minute to catch my breath, I rolled him on his stomach and tied his hands.

  Satisfied, I removed his bicycle helmet and ate an energy bar.

  Nobody cared that Andy’s feet trailed behind his head like he pushed through the wind when he walked, and his lip-smacking across the cafeteria never stopped girls from approaching. Andy was that attractive. But the moment he spoke, the thought of being anything more than friends disappeared. I had a deeper voice before middle school.

  That Andy, who bragged about modeling when he graduated, died.

  Now, his unnaturally pale skin peeled and flaked like a snake, and his black veins created a web-like pattern. Andy stunk like city sewage. Blood and pus leaked from his fingertips. And the thick glossy hair I was jealous of vanished. Andy survived the fifth breach, but he’d transform into a mindless scab with the next.

  After giving him an hour to rest, I dragged his body to a tree stump and dumped water on his face, slapping him for good measure.

  “It’s been a while, Andy, you’re not looking too good.”

  He didn’t look surprised to see me, but he couldn’t talk while coughing up blood. Somewhere during our fall, he punctured one of his lungs. I hated the idea, but I placed my hand on his chest and forced a sliver of my soul out. Even though it burned, I maintained a straight face.

  I couldn’t heal a person’s body without damaging their soul or mine. Although I worked in field hospitals, I wasn’t a real medic. A real medic could excite essence particles in a person, manipulate them to speed new growth, and remove any genetic mistakes. Medics spent years training their control and studying the human body. I ripped essence from the soul and patched the injury manually.

  My stomach hardened, and my body trembled from the strain, but I healed his lung enough to breathe normally, and he thanked me by spitting a mouthful of blood on my face.

  I fought the urge to knee his head—healing him hurt, and I didn’t want to do it again.

  “That wasn’t nice, Andy. After I saved you and all.” I dumped water on my face to remove the blood, but the stink remained.

  “Not nice? You filthy whore. You saved me from what you did.” Andy’s face twisted like he wanted to spit again, but he held back and smiled instead. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you nice once you’re in the stables like the rest.”

  I closed my eyes and let his taunt roll off me. I had seen hopeless eyes, glazed and uncaring. The survivors of the fifth breach that gave up hope were still afraid of dying, but they wouldn’t fight against death. The captured women were different. Their eyes begged for someone to kill them.

  The scabs didn’t throw me with the other women when they caught me; it was the only reason I escaped.

  “Should I thank you for your kindness, Andy?” The scabs didn’t throw me in for one reason. Andy knew about my ability.

  “Kindness? Ha! You’re lucky you had me, or you’d have ended up just like that slut of a sister—”

  Before he could finish, I buried my foot into his chest and dug my toe into his clavicle. Andy had a thing for Lia, but the feelings weren’t mutual.

  “Watch yourself, Andy. You might still survive this.” I pushed my foot into his chest and counted to ten in my head before releasing him. “Play nice, and I’ll heal you, maybe clean some of that filth from your soul. If you don’t…”

  I let the thought float in the air. Threats and promises. I had no stomach to torture someone for information; I didn’t think it would work, anyway.

  “Stop posing. Say what you want.”

  I sat across from him on the ground and stuck the knife into the dirt. “Why are you chasing me? Who sent you?”

  Andy turned his head like I was crazy and chuckled at my question. “You’re wondering why I’m chasing you? Do you really care? Mike didn’t send me for his ex if that’s what you were hoping for. Those nights of warming his bed are over.”

  Blood flew onto his chest as he cackled. He wasn’t entirely wrong. A part of me hoped Andy was still in contact with Mike, but his answer confirmed he wasn’t.

  “We never broke up, you know? Mike never broke up with me. Can’t be an ex when we’re still together.”

  “Words. You meant nothing to him.” Andy snickered and rolled his eyes. “Just a dumb girl with a broken heart. Give up. He doesn’t want you.”

  Even though Mike didn’t want me, and I was only tracking him cause I wanted him dead, hearing someone say those words out loud hurt. It’s hard to throw away the past. The good has a way of making us forget the bad.

  “I’ll make it simple for you, Andy. Every time you answer a question, I’ll heal one of your injuries. Not bad, right?” I twirled the knife in my hand for show and put it back into the slot on my belt. “Tell me where Mike is, and I’ll heal your arm. Tell me who sent you, and I’ll heal your ribs. Tell me your group’s territory, and I’ll heal your lung. Tell me how to escape, and I’ll purge the corruption in your soul.”

  “Or what? You gonna stab me? You gonna take that stolen mace and slam it into my head? Better hope you don’t come across someone from The Order carrying that around.”

  I looked down at the club next to me, happy to find out what kind of weapon it was and worried about what Andy said. A priest’s weapon. I hadn’t thought about weapons, just the cross, but if I ran into a member of The Order and they recognized the weapon, they might take issue with me stealing from one of their own.

  “Let me worry about that. Answer my questions.”

  “Your questions? What’s it matter? Mike’s gone, off to some fortress in Colorado with the other frontliners. You can’t stop Alton. From Ohio to Maine, Virginia to Canada, we cover it all. You’re not going anywhere. Now heal me bitch, and I’ll tell them to go easy on you.”

  Mike going to Colorado was a problem, especially if the frontliners hunkered in fortresses. But now I had a more immediate concern.

  “Are you talking about Alton Greer? That senator who resigned after the sex ring scandal? That sleazeball?”

  Andy’s lip curled, and his nose wrinkled. “Sleazeball? Who do you think you are? Women beg to spend a night with him.”

  “So Alton Greer is in control.” The only memories I had of Alton Greer were of him being a state senator and the sex cult he founded. It sounded like he hadn’t changed. “Is he turning? What do you get for bringing me in?”

  I waited for a response, but he kept his eyes down and refused to answer. I got the picture.

  Alton, or someone close to him, must have transformed. Andy knew about my ability and offered to help. Alton must have promised Andy something in return. Probably a position or role. Andy wouldn’t risk his life only to hand me over with no gain.

  But Andy exaggerated my ability. I could purge corruption, but not endlessly. And I couldn’t stop a soul’s collapse. A corrupted soul and a collapsed soul were completely different.

  Andy was right. Their territory was enormous, and escaping wouldn’t be easy. But they couldn’t patrol that entire region, not with the number of people still alive. I’d need to avoid walking on highways. Most cars didn’t work, the gas was too old, but there’d always be some, and tiny dictators like Alton probably controlled them.

  I didn’t bother asking anything else. I didn’t like what I was going to do. Andy had been a friend once. Someone I laughed around and went to classes with, but now he was a cult follower bent on handing me to his leader. Things would only get worse if I left him alive.

  “I’m sorry, Andy.”

  Before I second-guessed myself into a terrible decision, I pulled the knife from my belt, slammed it into his throat, and cried. His legs kicked, and his body twisted, but I held him down. I pressed with all my weight and turned my face away from his until he stopped fighting. Andy, Mike’s best friend, died beneath my knife, and I cried from the dread welling up through my chest.

  There was nothing pleasurable about killing someone. Taking someone’s life left me hollow, like a part of me escaped each time. I wiped my eyes and the blade, grabbed the mace, and walked back to the brook. I never thought I’d have to kill a friend one day. Never thought I’d leave their body behind to rot. The sun was setting, but I couldn’t stay another night, I couldn’t bury Andy’s body or give him any last words.

  Yips and howls came from the distance. Too much noise and too many bodies in one area. I had brought too much attention to the region, and everything was hungry.