Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
FOREST
Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. All around me, littering the path behind and the road ahead.
And then there’s Tucker lying in the snow, a pool of blood all around him.
I holster the gun in my belt and drop to my knees in front of him.
The bitter cold does its best to alleviate the pain, but doesn’t do nearly enough.
I’m terrified how bad it’s going to hurt when the adrenaline stops pumping.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he grunts in pain, his lips chattering. “I stabbed you. How are you here?”
“Yeah, we’re going to have a long talk about that stunt you pulled.” I grab him beneath both armpits and help guide him to his feet. “We need to get you back to the manor.”
“I’m not going back.” He groans, holding a hand over the wound on his side. “There’s nothing to go back to.”
I force a laugh through the pain. “I’m not giving you a choice.”
He digs his heels into the snow, jolting me in place. A hand falls over my cheek, a soft caress. His eyes water. The word goodbye is written all over his face. He rips the gun from the holster and shoves me backward to the ground. He cocks the gun and holds it against the side of his head.
Closes his eyes.
“Tucker,” I scream, but the words don’t come fast enough.
Click.
His eyes bolt open, his chest heaving. I can practically see his heart pounding through his chest. He squeezes the trigger again.
Click.
“Tucker, stop.” I limp toward him and reach out to steal the gun, but he knocks me away. I lose my balance, landing on my side in the snow. I instantly try to crawl forward. “Please, Tuck,” I cry through the screams, straining the back of my throat. “Stop!”
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I raise my gaze to meet his. Steeled, closed-off, and sealed shut. They flash open, tears pooling at the corners. His hand trembles as he spins the chamber outward, five bullets falling out. Every single one was a misfire.
I scramble to my feet, putting as much pressure on my left leg as I can. All the while I try to do the math in my head. The probability of five misfires happening in a row is beyond a billion to one. Most likely, it’s much higher than that.
“An act of God,” I whisper in disbelief. “You’re not meant to die out here.”
“Shut up,” he screams, tossing the gun to the side. He slowly balls his hand into a fist, not formed to throw a punch but rather to grab at his emotions. His lips quiver, snot erupting from his nose as he breaks. “I hate you so much,” he cries. “I have nothing.”
Withdrawals make people do terrible things. What they say often cuts much deeper. For thirty years, he’s been drugged. He doesn’t know anything else. I know this, and his words still slice right through my already fragile heart.
“You have me,” I say as gently as I can. “Maybe that’s not a lot, but it’s something. I know what you’re going through because I’ve been through this before.”
Sure, there’s not really a comparison. I chose to leave this place. It’s what I wanted for myself. Everything has been ripped away from him in a violent manner. I never wanted to believe the Wilds. There was never an alternative for him.
I inch towards him, slow enough not to spook him but fast enough that I don’t give him enough time to run. He’s faster than I am, especially considering my current state. He could run off into the wilderness, never to be found. That’s not happening on my watch because I’ve lost everything too.
Everything but him.
He stands frozen in place, his head carried by the breeze, bobbing like a ship lost at sea.
His eyes don’t move, focused somewhere between here and the moon.
I take him into my arms, smooth a hand through his hair, and pull his head over my shoulder.
At this point, he’s a fucking zombie. Alive, but not really.
He sniffles first and then sobs quietly.
“I don’t know who I am outside of this.”
I hold him a little tighter. “I can’t wait to see who that person is.”
His grip tightens, holding onto the warmth of my body for dear life. I’m just as afraid as he is that if he lets go, he’ll never latch on again. So, I held him a little longer.
The wind blows through his hair, tussling it and carrying the snow from it. And then it stills, a quiet falling upon the sanctuary. In the silence, the trees seem to whisper to me a new song I’ve never heard before.
Sun breaks over the mountain, casting the promise of hope upon all it touches
Sirens wail in the distance, a sign of more cavalry soon to come. Red and blue lights echo off the trees, the snow, and the slick road. Dozens of patrol cars and ambulances block off the highway.
A police helicopter circles overhead, while a med flight heads north towards civilization.
Sitting on the ledge at the back of an ambulance, I watch as survivors are loaded onto a bus.
What will become of them? For some, the Wilds is the only life they’ve ever known.
For others, they gave up everything to integrate into the village.
Uncertainty hangs over us all like the mightiest of storms that used to cast shadows on the mountain.
Down the way, the vultures await. The media is crowded behind ropes, desperate for the story.
Cameras are fixed on the survivors with no fucks given about the privacy of the victims. That’s what they are.
Victims. Victims of my father’s lies. Victims of a religion that’s not real.
Victims of a cruel world they had the misfortune of crossing paths with.
Tucker hobbles away from a pair of detectives he’s been talking with for the better part of a half hour. There’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and hanging over his body. He holds his hand over the bandaged wound on his side as he approaches.
I know I’m going to regret asking him this, but I ask it anyway. “What were they talking to you about?”
“I told them I stabbed you in the leg with an arrow.”
I close my eyes and pray he’s joking, but when I open them again, it’s clear he is not joking at all. I grit my teeth and scold him quietly, “Why the hell would you tell them that? You couldn’t blame your demented brother?”
He shrugs as if he hadn’t just confessed to a crime.
“Something tells me you’re going to be taking another visit to that elementary school soon.” God knows how many crimes he committed on that mountain. “And by elementary school, I mean prison.”
He arches a curious brow? “Prison?”
“It’s a jail, but much worse.” I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Nevermind. Something tells me you’d fit in quite nicely there.”
He turns and jumps backward onto the back of the ambulance, taking a seat beside me. He guides my head to his shoulder and runs his hand over my back. “I’m kidding. I know what a prison is and I didn’t tell them I’m the one responsible for your leg.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
A raven lands on the guardrail beside us. I swear it makes eye contact with me, but it’s been a long night and I can’t be certain of anything. Anything other than this feeling inside of me.
This feeling of hope, of better days.
This feeling of freedom.
This feeling of whatever the fuck it is that I’m feeling now.
Love, and feeling loved.
Going back to the Wilds was the worst decision of my life.
It was the best.