World After

Page 18

I watch him get farther from me. He never even knew I was near.
He disappears into the darkness like a fading dream.
I stare at the sky where he vanished for longer than I probably should.
Chpater 31
THE SCORPIONS hesitate before the first ones leave the ground. I assume they’re flying after Raffe, but I’m not entirely sure. There’s a certain reluctance to the way they take off. Almost half of them stay on the ground, looking at each other, unsure.
These have to be the worst minions ever. Whatever was bred into them, courage wasn’t on the list. No wonder Beliel had to fight off Raffe for so long before the scorpions arrived.
Eventually, all the ones who can take off do. Half a dozen are left bleeding and dead on the splintered dock, while a few writhe and hiss in pain beside them. They don’t look like they’re capable of much harm any more, but I keep a close eye on them, just in case.
Mom lets out a deep sigh beside me. Clara, though, still seems to be frozen in fear. She’s probably going through some post-traumatic stress issues right now after seeing so many scorpions.
It’s time for us to get out of here. Somewhere safe for the night where we can cook up some crazy scheme to rescue Paige. But even I can’t stir up much enthusiasm for nutty schemes right now.
I am just a girl. I am no match for these monsters. They may have looked weak compared to Raffe, and I may have felt like an equal in some ways during my journey with him, but after seeing what I just saw, reality sinks in.
It would be suicide to sneak onto Alcatraz Island. It’s crawling with these monsters and there’s no way of getting back out.
Despite my erratic behavior, both Mom and Clara still depend on me to decide the timing of our exit out of here. We’re in the shadows and should have a decent shot of making it out unnoticed.
I listen for enemies and monsters. All I hear are the terrified sobs of the people locked in the container. The sounds are muffled now, probably to avoid attention, but the captives can’t seem to stop themselves.
The container lights up with the intermittent flashes of the work lamp lying on the ground. Behind the rollup gate, the prisoners crowd together, giving me an impression of despair and grime every time the light flashes.
I get ready to sprint from the pile of crates we’re hiding behind. But I can’t seem to leave. My eyes keep drifting over to the people locked in the container.
In theory, it would be a no-brainer to run over and let them out. It would only take a couple of minutes to free a bunch of people from whatever horrors await them.
If I had the key.
Beliel hung it on one of the lamps but now, I’m not sure which of the two lamps he used. If it was on the one he threw at Raffe, it could take an hour to find it.
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the sights and sounds of the prisoners. I need to concentrate on Paige and Mom. I can’t just be distracted by everybody who needs help, because we all need help now. Desperately.
I glance at Mom and see the terror on her face. She’s moving her lips silently and rocking back and forth. These are real monsters straight out of her nightmares. Clara is looking even worse, if that’s possible.
I need to get up and get us out of here. I need to take care of my own people.
A heartbroken, terrified sob reaches across the pier and grabs me.
I try to ignore it.
But I can’t.
That could have been Paige before those angel monsters got to her. It’s almost certainly someone else’s sister, daughter, or mom. And wouldn’t it have been a wonder if someone out there could have helped Paige the way I could help these people?
Ugh. Why can’t I shut down that stupid thought?
Yeah, all right already.
I get up from my crouch. Worry and fear intensify in my mother’s face when she sees me eyeing the path to the prisoners. I don’t have to worry about her following me. Sometimes, being paranoid really does save your life.
There’s certainly no chance Clara will follow me. She has excellent reasons to be petrified of the scorpions. But along with the fear, there’s something in her eyes I didn’t expect.
Pride.
She expects me to rescue them. She still thinks I’m a stupid hero. A part of her would be disappointed if I just walk away.
That almost makes me abandon the whole idea.
But, of course, I don’t.
I dash out from the relative safety of the darker shadows.
Chpater 32
THE INJURED scorpions notice me right away. My heart practically stops when they turn and hiss at me.
I can almost feel the excruciating pain of the sting, the panic of losing control of my body while still conscious. The thought of having to go through that again makes me run so hard I think I might pass out.
In my freaked-out state, I don’t pay enough attention to my footing and I slip on blood.
I catch myself from falling by doing an awkward dance of hand and sword balancing.
Focus.
Do not let the scorpions hurt you twice just because you’re freaking over the possibility.
I shove everything—fear, hope, thoughts—into the vault in my head and slam the door shut before they explode back out. It’s getting trickier to open that vault door.
The only thing in the world now is my path to the prisoners’ container. I rub the sole of my shoe on the ground to wipe off the blood.
For all their hissing and screeching, the injured scorpions stay down. I keep an eye on them to make sure they’re not crawling toward me.
Before I walk into the circle of light, I look around to make sure there are no scorpions, angels, or winged rats headed my way. It doesn’t help that my eyes are already adjusting to the light, making the shadows that much darker.
I dive into the light like I’m jumping into water.
I feel instantly exposed.
Anyone on the pier can see me now. I run as fast as I can to the still-standing light by the metal jail. All the prisoners quiet down as if holding their collective breaths.
The key is not on the standing work light or anywhere near it.
I look back at the flashing lamp that Beliel threw on the pier. The key could have flown off anywhere.
Either I commit to looking for it in this sea of splintered planks, or I give up and make sure Mom and Clara get out of here safely.
Or, I could see if my sword can cut through metal.
It easily cut through bones during my dream training, and it’s supposed to be so special. Before I can think about it, I lift the sword and slice down.
The blade easily cuts through the lock and the gate’s metal tab.
Whoa.
Not bad.
I lift my sword for the second lock. But before I can cut it, there’s a rustling behind me.
I spin with my sword still above me, half-convinced an injured scorpion has crawled over, ready to strike.
But it’s not an injured scorpion.
It’s a healthy one.
It folds its gossamer wings as if it just landed. It stalks toward me, barefoot on its much too human-like feet. Somehow, I might feel better if they had clawed feet or something else that made them look less human.
Two more scorpion angels land behind the first one.
There’s only one more lock. I spin around and chop at it with my blade.
It comes flying off. The chain-link gate hangs open now. All they have to do is roll it up and run.
Instead, the prisoners huddle in the back, frozen in terror.
“Come on!” I slam on the side of the container to shock them into action. “Run!”
I don’t wait to see if they do. I’ve just put Mom and Clara in danger of a horrifying death. I could kick myself for not convincing them to leave without me.
The gate rattles behind my back.
The freed prisoners begin to run, scattering everywhere, their footsteps pounding on the wooden pier.
I run in the opposite direction of Mom and Clara, hoping to draw the scorpions away from them.
Then I hear my mother.
She screams a bloodcurdling screech of terror.
Chpater 33
EVERYONE SPREADS OUT, instinctively heading in different directions.
There are only a few monsters and a lot of us. There’s a good chance that some of us will get away.
I run toward a mass of shadows where a pink ice cream sign sticks out of a pile of broken planks. If I can get around it, I might be able to disappear into the jagged shadows.
But before I get there, something smacks my head and drapes over me.
I’m tangled in a net.
My first thought is to slice through it with my sword but I’m now surrounded by the people who were running behind me and there isn’t enough room. The more we thrash, the more entangled we get.
Shadows fall out of the sky. Shadows with insect wings and curling stingers.
They drop in random places. One on top of the shipping container, making a hollow boom. Several land in front of the old row of shops where half a dozen people were heading before a net came down on them too.
Five, ten, twenty. So many that it starts to sound like we’re in a hive.
We’re trapped.
Everyone is sobbing again. This time, the despair is so thick I feel like I’m drowning in it.
Even if I could cut through the netting, I couldn’t cut my way through all these scorpions. I slide my sword back into its scabbard to make it less noticeable.
The net stinks of fish. At first, I don’t think we can walk with it on us, but one of the scorpions grabs the edge of our net and pulls a drawstring. We bunch together as the edge closes around our legs.
The scorpion yanks us along in our net trap like it’s pulling a dog on a leash. Its stinger aims for us, hovering just within striking zone. Another scorpion walks beside us, making it clear by the rhythmic jabbing of its stinger that we should do what it wants.
I frantically look for Mom and Clara, hoping against all odds that I won’t see them.
But there they are, only two netted groups away from me. My mother clutches my teddy bear to her bosom like it’s her long-lost baby, while Clara clutches Mom’s arm like she’ll die if she lets go. They both look petrified.
I feel sick.
Sick from fear. Sick from anger. Sick from the stupidity of what I’ve done.
I came here for my sister and instead I’ve gotten myself recklessly caught. Worse, I’ve gotten Mom and Clara caught too. And looking at the large number of captives on the pier, I didn’t even free anyone either.
Several groups of netted humans converge as we’re herded toward the water. At first, I assume the scorpions are taking us to a new shipping container, but instead of a holding cell, they move us toward a boat.
“Brian!” A young woman under my net reaches her hand out to a guy trapped under another as our two groups get closer.
“Lisa!” the guy calls to her with desperation. They strain against the mesh and stretch their arms as far as they’ll go to try to touch each other.