Chapter 27
R aven took him to the bridge.
Nick always remembered the old wooden bridge, which spanned a narrow ribbon of stream, as being the entrance to “Westbrook proper,” as his grandfather routinely explained it.
Earlier, before all of this madness descended on them, he and Amiya had struggled to find their way back to it.
Raven guided him through the woods and to the crossing easily; within fifteen minutes, the wooden structure was within sight.
“You really know your way around out here,” he said.
“I don’t have a choice,” she said. “I have to stay ahead of the helpers and the Overseer. I use the trees to mark my way.”
She pointed out miniature carvings on the tree trunks. He had seen those marks before and hadn’t paid them much attention, figuring they had been created by animals pecking at the wood.
“Smart,” he said. “So you’ve got your own navigation system.”
“Sort of.” She shrugged. “Came from necessity, I guess.”
“Once we cross that bridge, I can get help for us,” he said. “I can get back to my grandpa’s house, get to my truck, and go to the police. We can put an end to everything here: this plantation, the Overseer, the helpers . . . you’ll be free.”
“I won’t be able to leave,” she said. “But maybe you can get help for us, like you said.”
As they closed in on the bridge, his spirits soared. He increased his pace from a brisk walk to a jog, shoes scraping across the dirt lane. He should have been exhausted after the day’s struggles, but hope had given him newfound energy.
Raven tried to keep up but soon fell behind him.
“Come on!” he said, urging her along. “We’re almost there!”
He reached the bridge, the wood creaking under his weight. Slowing, he turned to find Raven had drawn to a stop. She eyed the crossing warily, avoided setting her feet on the wood, and wouldn’t touch the railing either.
Nick was halfway across. “Raven, let’s go. It’s okay.”
“I wanted to show you this.” She glanced at him, fear brimming in her eyes. She peeled back a lock of hair, giving him a full view of the mark branded on her face. “Watch.”
“Come on, don’t be ridiculous—” he started to say, and then he lost his words.
Wincing, Raven had placed one foot on the bridge, and the “W” on her face was glowing. It reminded Nick of the heat conducting tubes of a toaster oven when the power had been switched on: the mark, a ruddy orange, steadily grew brighter, and brighter.
Can’t be seeing this. It’s not really happening . . .
“See?” Raven stared at Nick, tears running down her cheeks. She put one hand on the railing, and the glowing suddenly increased in intensity, and Nick saw smoke tendrils rising from her face. She screamed at him. “See!”
“Stop it!” Nick broke his paralysis and pushed her away from the bridge. Raven staggered, dropped to her knees. She covered her face, trembling.
“Let me . . . let me take a look, please,” he said gently. He knelt next to her. “Please.”
Sniffling, she took away her hands. The mark had lost its unearthly glow, but it looked raw and sore, as if recently applied by the branding iron, and he caught a faint, sickening smell of seared flesh.
She gave him a baleful look. “You believe me now?”
“Raven, I’m a scientist,” he said. “But what I just saw . . . I don’t have a scientific explanation for it. Spontaneous human combustion triggered by touching something—nothing like this has ever been recorded.”
“Help me get away from here,” she said. She wiped tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “Help all of us.”
He drew in deep breaths. If what she had told him about the power of the mark was real, as he had witnessed with his own eyes .
. . he could not contemplate the implications of such a thing at the moment.
He knew only that he needed to help her, and Amiya, and everyone else being held there against their will.
He looked skyward. He estimated that it was edging toward late afternoon. Perhaps a couple of hours left until sunset.
“You wait here,” he said. “I’ll be back for you—for all of you.”