Chapter Ten — Opel

My world swirls around me like an endless whirlpool, threatening to suck me into its dizzying void. I struggle to breathe or just keep my head above the turbulent waters. Strange underwater sounds swim around me. A twist of thoughts and sensations churn inside my very core. But when I hear the shuffling of feet on wooden floors I feel elated, knowing I am not drowning.

Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is Aecker. Yet, it’s not a welcoming sight at all. He is unconscious, bleeding from various cuts on his head. His gorgeous face is painted red with blood and a long, silver blade glints near his throat. My eyes widen in shock, taking in the soul-shaking scene.

“Checkmate,” the lieutenant says, offering an evil grin.

“You!” I sneer.

My gaze pins his steel-gray eyes as I feel the wild, feral loathing coming from a place I never knew existed within me. Then again, I’ve learned a lot about fickle human emotions these last few days, some I can’t control. His disgusting grin widens, as his hands pull Aecker’s hair back in an effort to highlight his threat. The blade pushes deeper into the soft skin of Aecker’s throat, a drop of blood evident as the blade tilts.

I get myself to a sitting position. “Set him free and I will go willingly.”

While he tells me about all the vile things he has planned for me, his punishment for my running away and crippling his best fighter, I wiggle my injured foot―it seems to have miraculously healed. I am not sure where or how I find myself suddenly surrounded by ST and their commander. But most puzzling is that I have no idea how I got myself into this dangerous spot in the first place. When the lieutenant speaks again, I know I have no time to be confused.

“I don’t trust your kind one bit,” he says with twisted malice, his eyes reflecting a deep, raw cynicism I have not seen in anyone before.

“Filthy Tracker!” He spits on the floor.

“I am not a Tracker,” I say in retaliation. “What do you want with me?”

“I don’t have time for your stupidity! Look around you. Why go through all this trouble to capture you? Notice anything different about yourself lately?” He cocks his head to the side, waiting for me to respond. “Stop your pouting, it’s time you get these fantasies out of your head, 208. You are not human, and you sure as hell don’t belong with their kind. We have to get you back to HQ before you hurt civilians. But first, you and I have a few scores to settle.”

“208? Is that my name? My Tracker number in a line of many produced? I won’t―”

He cuts me off with a callous glare, shoving Aecker forward in his grasp. The blade draws even more blood.

“You have put many lives in danger. Because of you, our top agent is missing, and another is in critical condition.”

In his eyes, I can see he is holding back. His men line the ruined cottage walls, and I know he tells me all of this for their benefit. He, too, is hiding something.

“You don’t seem to be that afraid of me.” I keep my eyes glued to his.

He slaps me across the face with such force it takes my breath away, sending me back into the table behind me. Turning my head back slowly, I show him not as much as a hint of how that made me feel, of the anger and chaos swirling around inside me. But I refuse to give in to the fleeting feeling of violence making its way over my chest, and the images of his demise flash across my vision. I can feel the nothingness in my glare as I smile at him.

“You don’t get to talk. Move and I’ll slit his throat right now.”

My smile widens. “You need him, or he would be dead already.”

The man with the cold, gray eyes contorts his face. Presenting a challenge, perhaps? His bruised ego influences his calm demeanor. I watch as the blade is pushed deeper into Aecker’s soft flesh, blood trickling onto it, and drops falling to meet the rest of the spilled blood over his jacket.

I bite down on my anger.

“You are right, but not for the reasons you may think. He is your motivation. I can hurt him in so many ways... just to show you how weak this boy has made you.” He leans forward, right into my face, his sour breath warm and repulsive.

He whispers, “Now tell me where you hid it, or I will have the other two killed.” He motions with his head to look behind me. My eyes fall on Dyllian, gagged and bound. A mature woman sits by his side. They are both bleeding. The old woman is holding her arm, her clothes drenched with red tint from the oozing blood.

“Why are you even reasoning with her?” A smooth, deep voice joins the conversation.

Boots echo on the hardwood floor, an old kettle is kicked to the side. I spin out of the way as the metal smashes into a broken chair with a clunk. Before me, Aecker suddenly stirs. I hear Dyllian’s attempt to get his brother’s attention. The woman cries when she is pulled back by her injured arm.

Taking an opportunity during these distractions, I leap forward, striking the lieutenant with the palm of my hand right on the bridge of his nose. He falls back, and a scuffle breaks out amongst the other guards. But before I can get to Aecker, the lieutenant with the bitter personality lunges at me, ripping at my hair. Managing to get a hold of my bangs, he pulls me to my feet. A shrill escapes me from the sudden pain―I never imagined my hair being pulled could feel like a bunch of knifes trying to work their way out of my skull.

A gunshot sends an ear-piercing bang through the small enclosure. Everything vibrates, then falls silent.

The man with the dark hair ambles toward me. “Anyone moves and I will shoot.” He looks right at me, but adjusts his aim at Aecker’s comatose body lying beside me. My hand reaches for his, our fingers just touching.

“I don’t need any of you alive to obtain what it is I am looking for. But I don’t want the hassle of carrying bodies back to The Gate. It costs way too much to revive lives these days.” His eyes are still holding mine with each evil statement he makes.

“Lieutenant Cyrus, please escort these two to the Jeep. My fiancée will ride up front with us. The fourth one”―he points at Aecker―“pen him... I might have use for him yet. Secure the equipment, and don’t forget to mask them all.”

“Sir.” Cyrus stands ramrod straight and salutes.

More backup arrives. I try to squint through the tears, wanting to place a name with the face of the dark-haired man. Glancing down at the ring on my finger, I feel the collision of relief and angst. Relief that no one dies today, and angst for the looming words I have no idea how to acknowledge. Fiancée and 208, they hold no merit to me, only adding to the damn confusion.

***

Outside, we are met by a row of cars and guards. Two of the men seem very young. I’d guess the same age as Aecker and me, if not a year or two younger. The lieutenant won’t let go of my hair. I sense that, with him, his actions toward me are deeply personal and filled with hate.

“The girl comes with me.” The man smiles, a wire-bent grin as cold and distant as the blue of his eyes spreads across his face.

“Sir…” Cyrus wants to protest, but with only one stern glare from their leader, he is put back in his place.

Nearing the Jeep, I think I recognize the man with ruffled, jet-black hair. He is different from the others somehow. His face swims before me like a dream I once had, and I suddenly feel highly cautious of him as he sits down in the front seat and waits silently until his men have fully raided the ruins of the wooden structure. He hardly seems perturbed by his soldiers as they violently ransack the fragile building.

The cottage is well hidden because of its location. Like a rock standing the test of time, it has become part of the forest, welcomed by the climbers and vines wrapped around its frame. Even some of the windows have been blackened over by tendrils of plant life. I am sure it only stands because of the shelter it has received from the surrounding area.

It is only then I notice how deep we are entombed within the bowels of this green giant. It’s colder and darker this close to the falls and surrounding rock. The air is cleaner, evident by the fact that no one is wearing their breathing mask. But then I remember what Aecker said: “Those encoded have more chance of survival in the wilds.”

I can hear Dyllian and the woman grunt as they are shoved into the back seat of the Jeep alongside one of the young guards. My eyes briefly meet the woman’s, she looks younger under the pale moonlight than she first appeared. The guard stares straight ahead, pretending that nothing affects him, but I can see right past the shielded fences he puts up to keep everyone out.

I am cuffed from behind. Just before I am shoved in the front seat, Cyrus leans in to whisper in my ear, his hand pressing my chin to his mouth so I can’t pretend not to hear. It’s not out of fear that I hold my breath, I am actually trying to get away from his repulsive odor.

“One last chance, where is it?” his teeth grind together as he whispers.

I shake my head, not sure what he’s talking about, but I am absolutely aware of the fact that the answer he needs is the only value I hold. If I tell him anything... I will die. I remember him now, his big, hairy face and gray piercing eyes. From where, though, I’m not really sure. I wonder if this is the reason I ran away from wherever I was. I don’t say anything to him and the silence mounts, unyielding and unfriendly like the cold rapids of the river. This angers him, and as the engine starts he shoves me forward, trips me with one foot, and steers my face into the Jeep’s metal frame. I grit my teeth at the pain.

Their leader shouts at him from behind the steering wheel.

“This one resists me, sir,” he tries to explain.

Unhurriedly, his head turns, and his eyes lock with mine before turning to his master. As I manage to restore my balance, I jerk my body out of his arms and throw myself into the middle seat. I can feel the blood trickling down my forehead.

“Would you mind helping a girl out here?” I motion to the dark-haired man, causing blood to drip into my eye. Yeah, I was insane for thinking he’d have any human compassion.

He looks straight past me. “Do that again and I will suspend you for an entire week, lieutenant. Get your act together.” His knuckles turn white as he turns back to grip the wheel. “If you damage my fiancée…” He chuckles. “Let’s just say, I am not half as merciful as my father.”

There is that word again. This guy's getting married to a Tracker named 208―what are they playing at?

“I hear you loud and clear, sir!” Lieutenant Cyrus sneers.

As the big, stinky brute flops onto the seat next to me, I turn to give him a mocking smile. He only grunts and slams the door as the black beast tears through the uneven ground, kicking up chunks of mud as we head out.

In the bounce of the rear-view mirror, I can make out a convoy of five other military vehicles. I wonder which one holds Dyllian and the woman. I don’t see Aecker in the back; I assume he is unconscious still. White noise fills the Jeep’s cabin, but a man’s voice I recognize comes through the static.

“Cyrus, have you secured the package?”

Cyrus speaks into his jacket’s collar. “The package has been secured, sir. Heading out to The Gate. We won’t stop until we have reached HQ. Over.”

“Understood. Falling in behind you right now. Over.”

There is more to the minimal amount of words spoken over the com device. Looking over the lieutenant’s left arm, I see the dirty blue El Camino fall in behind the convoy. I know the man is beyond angry about my escape. I was his plan for a better life for him and his kid. I also get the feeling that Cyrus is in on his own plan, and whatever it is, it will aid me in my next escape. I have no idea how I will get to the others. I need the details of what I am about to face, and knowledge of the secrets that are still buried somewhere in my mind. I wish Aecker would wake up, it would make our escape so much easier.

Before us, the convoys’ lights play against the huge forest trees, illuminating their massive figures. I can’t help but feel the fight is over. The drive is bumpy, and all I can think of is Aecker tied up in the pen on the back of the Jeep, his body taking the full brunt of each painful bump.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“Uncuff her,” the black-haired man demands.

“No, sir! For your own protection, I won’t do it.”

I stir again, wiggling to find some kind of easy way to sit out this ride.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cyrus, do something. I can’t drive like this!”

“Okay... fine, Erik.” Cyrus clears his throat. “I mean, sir!”

Cyrus unties my hands from behind my back, only to cuff them in the front. I search my memory for the name Erik, but it’s as familiar to me as my supposed Tracker name, 208.

I wring my hands together on my lap nervously, as the forest starts to thin out. We are heading into the outskirts of an old neighborhood. The flash of a sign board reads Jester. Patches of cement walls and tarred roads start peeking through the thick carpet of plant life. It’s brighter out in the open. The moon shines clearly through moving clouds. A small drizzle begins to fall, but the drops vaporize with a sizzle on the Jeep’s hood. Beside me, Erik cusses out loud.

Cyrus leans forward to inspect the hood. “Acid rain.”

“I know.” He shakes his head. “If only we were on track with our mission,” he grunts sarcastically.

“Yes, sir. Still, it is earlier than expected.”

“This can only mean production has commenced earlier than normal this year. My father grows inpatient.”

“Understood, sir.”

As we draw closer to the abandoned town, panic spreads over my chest in thick waves of warm poison, leaving the inside of my mouth dry and bitter. The pen on the back of the Jeep has no roof―it’s just a metal cage―and Aecker is being burned by the acid rain the longer we stay out in the open. Every drop that falls blisters my flesh, as if I were the one out in the open pen. I don’t want to imagine it peeling back the skin on Aecker’s beautiful body. I’ve heard Dyllian talk to his brother about it, how dangerous it is for the scavenger hunters. This is why he hates it when Aecker ventures close to the outer edges of The Gate.

The deeper we forge into the forgotten neighborhood, the more visible the devastating effects of acid rain. Buildings, cars, old lamp posts―all are the color of raw red dirt, the sky’s poison has eaten right through the outer metal layers. Wires jut out like severed veins from office buildings. Plant life no longer exists. All that is visible is dirt, concrete and fused metal structures. My heart pounds faster thinking of Aecker.

We navigate through a number of streets, the wind whipping up rusty dirt over the windshield as a rumble tears through the sky. The convoy speeds up. In the rear-view mirror, I keep my eye on the blue El Camino. It’s speeding up—I know my time is now.

A crash of thunder and a blast of light hits the ground before us. Erik suddenly jerks the wheel, missing the bolt of lightning by an inch as yet another bursts on the opposite side. I am tossed back and forth in my seat as we dodge and fight our way through a forest of electricity. The ground shakes violently, and with each strike the ringing in my ears increases. The next bolt is too close, the aftershock zinging through the car’s metal frame. As the Jeep swings to escape another deadly fire rod, I slide across the seat and fall into Erik’s lap, purposefully. He pushes me off violently and I fall to the other side, right into Cyrus’ lap this time. I make it as hard for him as possible to recoil when I reach for his weapon, pressing down on his injured leg.

“Watch it!” He scowls, highly offended.

The rain is manic now, matching my ferocity. His revolver slips easily into my grip. He shouts, but our driver is occupied by the jungle of deadly bolts exploding around us he desperately tries to navigate his way through. Raising my cuffed hands, my fingers know the surface of a weapon all too well, and I shoot at the windshield. But it only cracks. The bullet’s neatly lodged in the center of the shattered glass web. I release another shot, but am knocked from the side and the bullet disappears into the vehicle’s dark cabin.

“What’s going on, Cyrus?” Erik yells.

I lean forward, sliding the gun in my boot, just as Cyrus grabs me.

“I’ve been shot!” he grunts.

“That’s twice today! You are becoming a liability.”

The impatience between these two is astounding. Before Cyrus has a chance to answer, I swing my arms toward the steering wheel and pull as hard as I can. We hit the carcass of an old broken down car, its metal frame eaten by the acid rain. I brace myself for the worst as the Jeep rolls a few times. The splintered shield shatters further, right to the very edges of its frame. The side windows crack and slowly bleed to black, no doubt the coloring of a protective mechanism. The windshield then blackens out as the cracks spread across the glass, like a spider’s cocoon keeping his prey locked within reach. Metal screeches against stone as the Jeep performs its final flip onto the roof and scrapes over the wet, tarred surface causing sparks. I grab for the gun again, shoot at the windshield a third time, but the bullet only lodges itself into the thick glass next to the other. The glass is assault-proof, apparently.

Throwing myself onto my back, I kick the glass where the bullets have weakened it. Cyrus grabs for me, but my elbow connects with his face. He recoils for a second, giving me the time I need to kick one last time. The window comes loose at the corner. I’m fighting Cyrus’ hands and strikes as I battle to be free. I have to get out! Using my fingers to pull the sheet of broken glass away from the frame, I abruptly stop when I hear car doors slamming.

I turn the gun on Lieutenant Cyrus. Erik lies squashed between the dash and the seat, completely unconscious.

Through a blood soaked face, Cyrus grunts at me. “You won’t get ten feet from here after you take your shot.”

“That’s where you come in.” I keep the gun on him and kick the shield over and over again until the glass peels away from the rubber edges, and pops out to land on the ground. Almost instantly, I get a whiff of the acrid smell as it eats away the tires.

“Go!” I hold the gun right to his face.

He lunges for the gun, and receives a bullet in his shoulder.

“Bitch!” he yells out in agony.

“My name is Opel.”

“You don’t have a name, you idiot. You are not human!”

“Keep your mouth shut and get out, before I shoot the other arm.”

He grins. “You have already shot me twice, and sent two bullets into the window. You forget that’s my gun, sweetheart, and I know exactly how many bullets rest in that chamber.”

“So now you know I have two more shots left; one to kill you with, and the other I’ll keep as a spare for whoever tries to stop me.”

“You are outnumbered.”

“And you are outsmarted. Now go!” I motion to the vacant window.

He crawls through the opening and I follow with difficulty, struggling to remain alive whilst cuffed. Before my foot leaves the vehicle, Erik grabs my boot. “Please, don’t go.” His eyes are soft blue orbs filled with a strange sight―that of pleading for help.

I frown and pull free, watching him once again collapse.

The lieutenant stands in waiting, cringing as the rain drips down his back and causes the flesh to rot. Shaking, he swears as the acid creates new wounds. Multiple bolts of lightning crackle all around, and the hairs on my body rise as the electric charge builds up around us. At first the rain doesn’t sting and I begin to think that the words and warnings were just talk to scare me, to prevent me from trying an escape. But they don’t know me at all. I’d rather risk my own life than become a servant of theirs. Then I feel it, the slight tingle, and then the itch. It grows into a violent sting, like scorching wires cutting right into my skin.

“Get him out now!” I shout.

When I turn to follow a limping Cyrus, I see men surrounding us, dressed in black rubber suits, but no guns. I think it’s because the rain damages the weapons, which means that my time is running out when it comes to mine. I push the weapon into his kidneys, forcing him on. “Quicker!”

We head around the tailgate. Aecker is conscious, staring at us as we bend down to unlock the barred pen. He grins, it’s a beautiful sight. He is pretty banged up, though. Red, raw gashes cover his head, his eyes are bloodshot, and bruises have swelled up across his gorgeous face. When he leans forward to grab hold of the bars, I can see the skin has started blistering from the effects of the rain. As Cyrus bends and unlocks the pen, I bring the butt of the gun down on his head and watch him fall to the ground.

Unbelievably, the brute still fights, kicking Aecker in the back of the knee as he climbs out, making him fall forward. I grab him and return the favor. This time Cyrus stays down, hands spread out before him on the soaked ground. I hold the gun to his head, but the others don’t seem to care that I threatened the life of their commanding officer. They watch from a distance before gradually edging toward us, their circle becoming tighter as they approach. The El Camino speeds our way, its lights blinding. We jump out of the way as it rides right over the lieutenant and crashes into the back of the Jeep. Parts of car fly everywhere.

“Run!” I scream.

Aecker pulls me along but is limping so badly, I have to use my shoulder to hold him steady as we make a dash to the nearest building. Lightning strikes too close and I shriek out of terror. I don’t have time to contemplate the insane burn on my skin. As the rain seeps into our clothes, the acid eats away at the material, seeking the already blistering skin beneath. My arms, shoulders and midriff are all open, perfect targets for fire rain that smells like rotten eggs and burned skin.

We head out of one building to hide behind a crumbling wall. Through one of the cracks, I look back to see black suits coming our way. I let off a warning shot, leaving me with one bullet. It seems to slow them down. But through the dark mist the headlights of the El Camino find us.

Aecker grabs me for assistance while limping along and we manage to slip through the cracks of another old building. He is unbalanced as he lets me go, trying to hold on to his knee with one hand and his breathing mask with the other. The wall crumbles under my touch when we push through bricks. Flakes of sand and stone fall at our feet. The lights keep coming, and another bolt hits close by. We continue to run.

The chaos unfolds around me as the El Camino crashes into the side of the building, dislodging pieces of what remains of the interior; plaster and roof trusses descend on us in heavy, sharp slivers. I swing out from behind the wall, facing the El Camino though a glassless window. Aecker has settled himself against a wall. The car waits, a fine mist of acid rain blankets the entire area. Water has collected in the pockets of its headlights, causing strange patterns to dance on the floor below. I can’t see his face but I know he is there, waiting for my next move. The engine revs, the loud beastly roar challenging the violent lightning. Then, a shot rings out and I retreat behind the wall again.

“What’s going on?” Aecker asks, his leg stretched out in front of him.

“That pig is still after us. I am afraid that this time he’s after our blood. I think our lives don’t matter anymore. Are you okay?”

He nods. “I’ll be fine as soon as we get away from here. We need to find my brother and Dr. P.”

“I’m not sure what car they are being held in.”

“I’m afraid my knee is gone. You’re going to have to knock it back in place.” He grimaces, hands shaking as he holds on through the pain.

His injury is extensive. My panic is back, and magnifies even more when I hear the crashing of glass come from behind the wall. At first, I think someone has shot at the driver to get to us. I feel bad for his boy, Mason, because I’ve seen what the savageness of greed these so-called soldiers have mastered. Perhaps, they all know I have the missing device, and it seems they will kill each other for it. Whatever it is, it must be priceless, seeing as no one life holds any value to them anymore.

I back up against the wall, my bound hands before me. I watch Aecker carefully, unsure of what to do. I feel bad for dragging him into this mess. He is biting down on a piece of metal bar he found scattered among the ruins. The acid rain has eaten through most of the wood, paint and cement, leaving a ribcage of an old outhouse. We are huddled under a low-riding beam. He hands me a rusted metal sheet, one side of it twisted and pitted. His leg is now propped up, his heel splayed out over bricks. Grabbing my leg, he squeezes it unimaginably hard and closes his eyes. For just a moment, the sudden silence is frightening. I try to focus on Aecker’s face, but my eyes are burning from the poisoned rain. I can only make out shapes through the shadows. Fixing my eyes on anything proves an even greater challenge while sitting inside the darkness of the empty building. I hesitate, not wanting to fail him. The headlights of the vehicles outside bounce off the rain, a kaleidoscope of color fills my eyes.

“I know. I can’t see a thing, either,” he says, squeezing my thigh. “It’s gonna be okay, it will hurt but I can’t heal if you…”

Gritting my teeth I bring down the metal sheet, my palms pressed against the flat surface, directing it straight at the knee cap. His screams echo throughout the building’s pitiful remains, penetrating the darkness, filling the empty spaces and bleeding out through its many cracks. The muscle car’s engine revs once more, roaring… waiting. I know he is about to slam right into the back of us.

“Aecker, are you okay?”

He merely nods once, slowly inhaling then exhaling through the pain.

“We have to go if we don’t want to become part of this building permanently.”

“I think I saw a way out in the back,” he says, getting to one leg. Treading lightly on the injured one, he tests his threshold for pain.

Eerily still, my curiosity gets the better of me. Against all logic, I stand straight up and peer through the scorching rain at the beaming headlights. My eyes a searing mess, but I hold my gaze, squinting and fighting the well of tears. I just need to know our position. I don’t want to be hunted but more so, I don’t want Aecker to be hunted because of me. The fire in my heart for him spreads across my chest, creating a smothering ache, one I can’t imagine being without. He’s the ache that keeps me wanting, keeps me alive and free from violent thoughts that plague my mind. Through the play of lights and rain, my vision finds a clear path. I can see the outline of the soldier, and I almost imagine his smirk as he revs the engine one last time.

By the time I register the gun in his hand, he’s already fired a shot. That, coupled with the click of mine as it misfires, lets me know that the situation is real bad. I turn to see Aecker finding his way around a brick pillar. I can’t reach him in time, my scream too late, so I do the only thing I can to save us both. I take the bullet in the back. As it hits, it rips the breath from my lungs and the first thing I feel is relief, then anger and regret as I fall down in the wet soot before me.

Aecker screams for someone named God to help us, pulling me toward him.

“Can you stand? Are you okay?” he begs for answers.

I nod, but I am not okay. It hurts so much, I want to give in to it. His strength urges me to carry on, and not a moment too soon. Because in that split second, following a loud crash, the car hurtles right through the weakened brick wall. I turn to see the El Camino covered in crumbled lumps of cement, sand and crushed stone, the upheaval coating the air with a stifling white dust.

The right side of my back feels like a poisonous blade is being turned in my flesh the moment I move. The pain is deafening as much as it is blinding. Then the numbness kicks in like a tidal wave―it takes me over, completely carrying me away in its awfully menacing wake. I can’t hear, see, or think of anything else but to get away from the crux of the painful surf, to move before the deadly curl and bend threatens to crush down on me. I don’t want to drown in its smothering doom. It becomes me so totally that somehow I find myself on my feet, riding the crest of the wave forward and beyond.

Together we find our way out of the building through a maze of warehouses. By the time we leave the Forgotten Lands, the sun has risen. Once we escape from the fog and poisonous clouds hovering above us it is unbearably bright, as if thorns are clawing at my sight.

Our eyes sting and swim under a blanket of tears, the acidic rain has made it into every crease on our faces. Searching blindly, we find large, organic objects that guide us out of the outer city and further away from The Gate. As soon as plant life welcomes us, we feel safer for a moment and find comfort in the silence away from everything that threatens us. No sounds of screaming, firing guns, roaring engines, oncoming cars, or the rush of my adrenalin assaults my ears.

Crawling through thick mud and dense bushes, we finally collapse inside the crescent of an old drain pipe. It’s dank and stinks in the jungle-like surroundings. Litter and filth surrounds us, and a stagnant pond’s water permeates the air with a dense stench. We wash our eyes out with dirty water, which stings but subsides quickly. However, the cooling effect of the dark mud we apply works wonders.

All around us, bugs flutter and sing their protest of suddenly being disturbed. I inhale a long, deep breath, knowing as soon as I let go of the crushing air trapped inside my lungs, the bullet will pierce right through my frame. As I exhale, the discomfort is immediate, ripping through my gut, holding me prisoner in its merciless claws.

“Let me see,” Aecker requests.

“Get these off.” I hold my cuffed hands out.

Aecker rubs mud over my wrists. “Can you squeeze them out?” His voice is muffled behind the breathing mask.

“I can’t move.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. It might hurt, so… sorry, okay?”

“Whatever, just get them off.” I lean my head back against the cement pipe.

“I have to dislocate your thumbs, nothing else is works,” he says, after a few unsuccessful and futile attempts.

I bite down on the strap of my shirt, and scream as my thumbs are mutilated and pushed through the cuffs. Aecker quickly pulls each of them back into their sockets, and takes my hands in his. I whimper softly into his shoulder.

“I am sorry.”

I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I lean forward, wishing I could pass out from the pain, because the more I move, even attempt to breathe, the worse the pain becomes and ripples through my body.

“I can’t see a damn thing in here,” he whispers. “We need to move, and if they set the dogs on us it’s the end of the road―you are bleeding all over the place.”

“What about Dyllian?”

“I will have to go back for him. Right now, we have to get you cleaned up. I might know someone who can help us. But first we have to mask the scent of your blood.” His hands are shaking, flakes of raw skin coming loose every time he moves. He starts pulling his shirt off.

“Aecker wait.” He doesn’t hear me, or ignores me totally.

“Let me help you with yours, but I am afraid the undergarment has to go, too, it is totally soaked―”

“Aecker, stop!” I interrupt.

He pulls back through the shadows, the light illuminating his features as he moves forward, a shocked look on his face. His eyes speak of repentance, all because he seems to think it is his fault I am injured. But I know somehow that fault lies with us both. He should have left me to die, and I should have left his bunker the minute I woke in his world.

My lungs seem to be burning from inhaling the toxic air for too long. My voice sounds shakier than the shaking raking over my body. “It is true, isn’t it?”

His eyes are wide and pleading. His look speaks the truth of what I am about to profess.

“I am a Tracker. I know this now.” A thick lump of pain lodges in my throat. “But there is something else…” I trail off in order to swallow, trying to get the words past a parched mouth and a searing esophagus. My fingers tremble as the adrenalin takes hold again, the tips burning against split skin as I touch my lips. “I know why everyone is after me. Cyrus and the man in the El Camino; they think I have something… something of value. They threatened to kill for whatever it is I have hidden.” I hang my head in my hands. “I just can’t remember. If only I could remember maybe they’d leave us alone. I am so sorry, Aecker. I need to remember.”

“Hey.” His gentle voice breaks through the loud ringing in my head, stilling the crazy beat of my heart pumping in my ears. “We will figure it out, I promise.” He takes my hand, gingerly holding it in his. His eyes search mine and he nods. He means what he says. With Aecker there are no hidden intentions.

I watch as he dips his shirt in the filthy water, wrings it out and repeats. He stands up and searches for something in the long grass.

My body is shivering from the pain.

When he returns, he wipes my wound clean with his shirt. At his first touch, I scream in pain. Taking his time, he gently pulls the straps of my black undergarment away from the wound. I’m not ashamed of my body, and quite frankly it’s the least of my worries right now. He works as gently and as quickly as he can to clean the wound, his white vest is now a dark gray from the filthy water, mixed with the copper red from my blood. His jacket is at his feet, dirty and wet, acid holes along the sleeves. His muscles move under his tanned skin like a wave. I can see each one weave into the next, the curve of his perfectly shaped body highlighted by slanting rays from the rising sun. His movements are smooth and easy. His body is still covered in bruises; dark, black and blue all over his back and shoulders. Some are from the storm, others are new, like the two parallel rows of stitches that rake up his arm and across his neck.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Oh”―he looks down, softly touching it―“Cougar.” He smiles and pushes on my flesh.

I bite down on my hand as he places some mucky plant over the wound, taking a sharp breath at the pain and then relaxing as it cools down the area around it.

“Thinking back to when I met you the first time, you didn’t have the ability to feel pain the way you do now.”

I remain silent because I can’t believe he withheld this from me. I wait a moment longer to hear his reasoning.

“At first, I thought you were one of those high society girls they keep away from the public. Once you became accustomed to human interaction, we used to sit and talk for hours down in the tunnels… listening to the noises of the inner city dome. How life outside of Cupola and The Gate obliviously carried on around us. You never told me where you came from, so I never asked. I thought you were probably an orphan brought up in a military camp by the way you acted sometimes. When you left every night, I was always afraid I’d never see you again.

I cringe for a moment as he tries to undo my bra. “I’m sorry, but we have to remove it or I won’t be able to get the blood out.”

I just stare at him in shock.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be naked. Here, you can have my jacket.

I nod as he lifts my arm. Again, I am screaming as my shoulder moves so he can slide the strap off. My bent legs cover up most of my chest for the time being.

“I am sorry,” he whispers, slipping the strap from my hand, his other hand resting on my injured shoulder, trying to minimize the movement.

I bite down on my lips, keeping my eyes closed. Tears stream down my face. I turn so he doesn’t notice the angst and pain of a damaged girl.

“Do you want to know how we met?” He tries to distract me.

I don’t answer him. I am trying my best to swallow my tears. Showing my vulnerability is not something I like.

“I used to go into the forest to feed a herd of fawns after most of the does and bucks had been taken down by the hunters around our area. One day, when I got back from my feeding, I thought one had followed me to Cupola. I quickly climbed up a tree thinking he’d lose my trail, but to my surprise it was a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl who followed. Her eyes were big and full of wonder. At first, I admit, I wanted to shoot you. If you had found my secret hideout, I was sure you’d find Cupola. I let you mosey off, even followed you. But I didn’t think you were much of a threat if you never even noticed you were being tailed. I am a good hunter, and one who can beat a Tracker at its own game, which is unheard of.” His smile is gentle as he works on cleaning the rest of my body. “To my surprise, I found you in the meadow the very next day, feeding a doe. I noticed you didn’t need to wear a mask to breathe during the stormy season, and I was highly intrigued by your encoding. Your appearance was like nothing of our time. You looked like someone from before The Clearing; unmarked, clean and perfect. Impossible, right?”

His voice is so smooth it calms me. If I ever imagined how a Tracker and its target met face-to-face, never would I have imagined such a scene. His velvet tone is so composed, I find myself totally lost in the marvelous scene in the pasture he has drawn for me with his words. He describes autumn leaves the color of distant stars, vibrating and shimmering in their own world. Of trees so big and bursting with such vitality, I would think they were a being. It is hard to imagine it after witnessing such deep scars inflicted upon the planet.

“I used to rush out every day, lie to everyone just so I could watch you. With each new day you spent with the animals, you grew more aware of your surroundings. To me, you were not the Tracker kind we had heard of. To a Tracker there is no life, only death. Nothing around them exists. Your appreciation of your surroundings was not the making of a beast.” He sighs deeply, pulling the other strap off my arm. I cringe at the movement, and take a deep breath as he stands to dip it in the water. He places his wet shirt over my head. “Our first encounter,” he smiles as he turns to face me, “was a little strange.”

He slides in behind me, folding his legs around my waist. He then uses my undergarments to wipe dirt from my seeping wound. It is cold, stings as it touches my skin, working around the moss he used to cover the bullet hole in my back. He gently slips my arms into the shirt. “When you noticed me watching you, you attempted to hurt me, but I don’t think you were trying your best.” I can hear the grin in his voice.

I gasp as my mind fills with a spectrum of oranges, yellows, reds and browns, weaving into each other to become one living, breathing thing. The larger trees are dark green―evergreens with branches so thick and wide they create a lush canopy over the entire meadow. Drops of dew catch the light; orbs of golden sun are captured in each tiny bubble, adorning the plant life around us. Then… it all flashes before me. His face is far up ahead of me, and I follow the river of his caress and let it carry me to the present. It flashes to the moment of our collision.

“I remember,” I say. “You kissed me.”

He chuckles. “It was the only way to calm you down so you would stop trying to pretend to want to kill me.”

“Liar,” I snigger.

“Which part? The killing part?” he sniggers back.

“The other thing. I know what you were thinking when you kissed me.”

“So you do remember?”

“Maybe I remember you enjoying it way too much to have been thinking about the killing part. And honestly, who in their right mind defuses a Tracker with seduction?”

“Ha-ha-ha.” His laugh is infectious.

I laugh, too, although I am not sure why. “Why are we laughing again?”

“That was your design, not mine. But I never knew it at the time. To me you were a beautiful, rare creature.”

“Pervert.” I smirk.

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” He brags, beaming, but then goes silent for a second. “You know I’m kidding, right?”

I want to turn my face so I can see his, but my entire shoulder feels like one huge open wound when I move.

Ice cold fingers abruptly clamp around my mouth before I’m able to comment. His face rests on mine, and his body is pushed right up against me. Holding a finger to his lips, he signals for me to remain still. It is then that I realize how awfully silent the valley has fallen. Caught in the breeze is the scent of a wet animal.

Aecker stands quickly. My eyes widen in fear as I look up at him, wondering why his eyes are pinned on the dense mist as it swirls around us. Aecker bends down to lift me up. The hairs on my forearms prickle as they stand on end. I can almost feel it coming. This could be anything; a hunting dog, a wild animal, or even a Sniffer Hound sent by ST.

With no time to burn the clothes soaked with my blood, Aecker chucks them into the dirty water below. Throwing his jacket on, he gently maneuvers my injured shoulder into the remainder of his shirt, pulling my arms through the sleeve. We begin to climb over the remains of the concrete pipe. For a moment, we walk straight ahead and find ourselves dragging through the thickest of muddy water. As the sludge is displaced, I see the remnants of a shiny, blue tiled fountain beneath. I remember we used to study pictures of a few chosen locations in order to identify certain areas when scouting. Specific memories are coming back to me fast and clear.

Now, we walk through what they call the Swamp Lands. It used to be a string of luxury water parks of sorts, built over natural springs. Luckily, the mud holds plenty of liquid and falls closed behind our trail, leaving the minute sign that we were here in the oily scum layer. A dog barks once, alerting our hunters that he has found our trail.

I look back and my eyes catch something moving beyond the fog. A dark shadow edges closer, forming the outline of a large canine. Head down, snout to the ground, tail wagging, it is definitely onto us. We move quickly up the mossy embankment and over marshy grasslands. The fog burns away over the parking lot’s fractured tar. There is not a cloud in the sky, it literally shimmers with morning stars.

***

The contrasting surroundings are striking, bursting with stark white light that bounces off the bleached high-rise walls of an old, wealthy neighborhood. Every building is whitewashed from the extreme weather phenomenon in the area. It reminds one that in a single breath the landscape can change. You could be walking through the Woodlands listening to the moans of parting branches as the wind rakes through with gentle wisps, and the very next step forward you could find yourself stuck in a graveyard desert of some old housing district. That is how it looks now, cement houses bright and piercing under the early morning sky, yet only a foot away the green, dark Marshlands hide the forgotten world.

Nothing but the toothpick-thin walls have survived in this area. Everything is covered in a fine layer of the driest sand that catches all the light from the rising sun. A memory plays at my mind, a similar place, but this is not quite the same; here, there are no tags of gangs on the walls. No smoky fires are paling the sky and easing the glare. Suddenly, it dawns on me why there are no signs of life out this far into the Banished Lands, storm season has turned this into a tornado valley. Lucky for us, the seasons have shifted.

I raise an arm to protect my eyes from the glare coming off the tombstone-like houses. From a distance, it resembles a skeletal hand with bony fingers reaching for the sky, seeking an escape from its horrid fate.

Beyond the valley of the abandoned neighborhood, the sun starts to make its way into the sky. Orange bleeds into velvet blue then jet black as it meets the milky streak of distant stars. It’s been so long since we’ve seen such a spectacular sunrise. We can’t help but be captured by its beauty.

Aecker takes my hand in his and squeezes it twice, a gesture that can mean a hundred different affectionate things. To me, it means I am glad we have this moment together. Aecker and I remain silent taking in the dawn. I am so glad we can share this, in spite of all the unfortunate events. Everything led to this one moment I will never forget, a moment no one can ever take from us. It’s overwhelming, and I feel the need to say something, to release the extreme burst of joy filling my chest.

Instead, I say the stupidest thing I possibly can. “It’s not safe out here when the sun has risen.”

“I know,” he whispers.

His eyes focus on movement beyond the huge crack in the earth. We can’t hear the dog anymore, so we continue in the same direction. In some places, the cracks are so wide we have to jump over them, causing my shoulder to ignite with pain. My body is working hard at healing, beads of sweat form quickly under the shirt, and it’s not long before my hairline is soaked. We edge around the deep gash in the tar. And then, out of nowhere, comes the bark.

One quick signal is all it takes. Aecker halts, pushing me behind him. He motions for me to look straight ahead. He thinks something is beyond the wall before us. Aecker then points to the left as a dog emerges, tall and skinny, its slim legs moving gracefully over the crumpled debris.

Hardly making a sound, the dog runs right for us. I feel myself stiffen, waiting for the onslaught, but instead Aecker whistles and pats his leg.

“Ryder, come here girl,” he sings.

Relieved it’s not a Sniffer Hound, I release a captured breath, happy that Aecker seems overpowered with joy. His eyes crease with his wide grin, and for that one moment everything seems so wholesome. But the feeling is evanescent in my chest. A tall figure soon emerges from the edge of the clearing, the arm with the machete appears first, the weapon sparkling in the glare as he grabs onto the broken window’s frame. I have to lift an arm over my eyes to see as the sun rises and intensifies on the bright, white walls. It becomes painful to look at anything. A leg comes up and over the ledge. I recognize the brown leather boots immediately, if the skull painted on its side is anything to go by. Involuntarily, I take a huge step back. It’s Noah.

Aecker’s arm reaches out and tucks me in behind him. As he stands, he pats the dog on the head and looks straight at Noah as he advances toward us with big, heavy steps―a sour gait in the way he moves.

Aecker doesn’t seem surprised to see him, and I suddenly realize it’s Noah’s dog not Aecker’s, when the canine barks a few times, telling his master that he is pleased he has found us.

Noah praises his dog. “Good girl, Ryder.” His conceited face offers a sickening smirk. “Where is Dyllian?” he asks.

“Like I’d tell you.” Aecker’s reply is biting.

“I thought he’d be with you. This complicates things for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Aecker replies, his tone cold and distant.

Noah’s smugness seems to grow by the second. He cocks his head in my direction as I come around to stand beside Aecker. His dark eyes don’t meet mine once. He won’t give me that kind of respect.

“I see you still haven’t taken out the trash,” he sneers. A sardonic edge tints each word with hard, heated hatred. He has to scream to be heard over his breathing mask.

“Just because we are blood relatives doesn’t mean I won’t smack your teeth out. You won’t need those any longer, anyway. Meat is hard to come by these days, especially now that you have lost your best hunter,” Aecker retorts.

“I only speak the truth. She doesn’t quite fit in anywhere, does she? She’s not human and completely useless to the ST since you got hold of her. Look at her,” he jeers, malice dripping from each rotten word. “An injured shell. Not even the pretty exterior holds any value anymore.”

“I can still take you out,” I snap.

Noah takes a step forward, reaches for the dog and pulls her behind him. He smiles wickedly, amused at his own private thoughts. “You are a flaw. All he wants from you is to fix you for his own personal, perverted pleasures. Your flaw has now becomes his. There’s a price on your heads for such imprudence.”

“Ex-cu-se me!” I shriek, dragging it out.

Aecker clenches his fist, and each word he spits is like venom. “I will kill you for that comment.”

“All you are worth, pretty boy… cousin, is your father’s dying legacy. And you know who killed the New World Order, your very own father’s dreams of a better life for his kids.”

Aecker takes a gulp of air, waiting for the answer Noah is about to give. I am sure he can’t believe what he is about to say. I admire his tenacity, his restraint. He won’t waste Noah in front of me.

“You.” Noah pushes Aecker on the chest. “We had such high hopes for you, cousin. But you’ve gone and made yourself an outlaw because of your dirty, little indiscretion. Or should I say betrayal?”

Aecker takes a step forward. “I want you out of my face, Noah. I don’t want to be associated with spineless traitors.”

The way he says traitors with so much contempt, has me on edge. I feel for the gun in the jacket pocket, wondering if I should waste the last bullet on Noah.

“You are the traitor, cousin.” He pushes Aecker on the chest once again, but this time with more force.

Aecker rocks on his feet.

“Sleeping with the enemy. Because of this, your family no longer holds Cupola. Your messy secret has rotted away the fine line that tethered your inheritance to the village. Orders are to kill you and your brother. But the Tracker comes with me.”

“You are my family, Noah.”

“Lucky for me, someone in The Following favors my abilities above yours.”

Aecker stares at Noah casually, squinting as he studies his kin. “You are hiding something. What do you want from me? Why have you not killed me yet?” He stares at the machete resting at Noah’s side. “You are not threatening me, Noah. I think you are warning me. You are in too deep with The Following and want me to save you as always, isn’t it so?”

The next moment, Noah swings but Aecker anticipates his move, using his arm to intercept the blow. His other arm swings low, crashing into Noah’s ribs. Noah moans as the force of Aecker’s driving knuckles pushes the air from his lungs.

I step back as the machete comes slicing through the air, screaming for Aecker to duck. Turning on his heel, he kicks out, taking the full force of the slicing blade against the rubber of his soles. I have only seen such defensive precision from encoded soldiers.

Aecker moves with swift accuracy. He could just as well have been trained by a Tracker. Or… my blood turns cold. A chill runs through my chest and draws blood from my face. Has he been encoded without his knowledge?

***

Noah screams again as his hand flails outward, trying to release just one more punch. “Okay, okay! Just go, Aecker!” he moans.

“Are you giving up?” Aecker yells.

“I can’t take the heat anymore.”

Beside me, Ryder’s head lifts up, her eyes performing a slow roll in my direction. After the first thirty minutes of the boys going at each other, we couldn’t stand the heat or the glare anymore and took to the shadows down the very hill Aecker and I had escaped from. We can’t see much from our position―the ground is mostly sunken in and all of the nutritious topsoil has been washed or blown away, leaving dry, hard ground behind. A recently fallen tree stump forms a canopy over the lip of a fallen wall, creating some shadow. I feel too lazy to stand up and go take a look at what damage the boys have inflicted upon each other.

The sky reflects a peach haze off the blade of the machete. Once it was flung from Noah’s clutches, I snatched it up and threw it down the embankment. It now lies by my feet, silently reflecting the clouds above. The sky bleeds in an ombre of oranges. Flat clouds ripple in the sky, mimicking the surface of a lake. I close my eyes and feel as if I’m falling upward and into the surface of the placid sky lake. The clouds are feather soft and cold on my skin, cooling down every inch of me. I feel the air trickle between my toes, my sore feet now free of thick socks and boots. The coolness washes over my burning legs, probably sunburned right through my pants as they lay stretched out before me, away from the shadow of the canopy.

I also feel the heat right through the tree stump wall I’m resting my back on. It even soothes the pain in my shoulder for a while. But as I keep drifting up and through the clouds, the wispy air numbs the pain. Inhaling clean air, I fill my lungs with the numbing effect. It spreads out through my veins and claims me.

“Opel!”

I hear my name.

Then, I hear Noah’s voice but, oddly, it’s light and friendly. “You named her?”

“Opel, look at me.” Aecker touches my face, but I can’t feel him so clearly under the crisp, cool sheet of wonderful clouds. His fingers fall away as the placid sky lake carries me to the river.

“Open your eyes!” he calls again.

My eyelids feel heavy. I manage to peel my lids apart and the first thing I see are Aecker’s gorgeous lips. My stare reaches his and I think I smile, if my face played along that is. I am not quite sure.

“Stay with me,” he pleads.

“Soon,” I say, and slip back into the fall.