Chapter 38 #2
"It's a chef thing, I think," I mumble, a small smile tugging at my lips, imagining Marta trying to take down the two burly boys, which feels about right.
Thinking of Marta makes me think of the chef on the base, and that makes my mind land on Berkley…
which cause me to suck in a sharp breath, fresh pain lancing through my chest.
"I'm assuming everything... didn't go as planned on your way out?
" Willow asks, gently. My eyes sting, and all I can do is shake my head.
Luckily, Deacon comes in and saves me from having to explain it all.
He tells everyone the simple version of what happened, and they listen.
Willow comes over beside me, snuggling up to off me comfort.
At some point Briggs makes a small fire, and everyone hunkers down to sleep for the night.
I must drift off because suddenly I'm back in that hallway, staring at Berkley's empty eyes.
My own eyes fly open. I get up as quietly as I can, slipping from my spot in between Linden and Willow.
I don't know why, but I feel like if I don't move my body, I'll be pulled underneath these feelings.
Like I can walk away from the dread, and guilt, and grief I'm feeling somehow.
I decide a perimeter check is a good idea, anyway; I pull one handgun from my bag and tuck it in my tack holster, just in case.
I look back, and everyone's sleeping. In hindsight, we should've set up a watch, but we were confident we'd be OK for the few hours of sleep we all needed before heading out in the morning to what will be a gruelling trek.
I walk around the brick building, pulling up my scarf, the dust swirling in lazy twirls that glitter faintly in the penetrating moonlight. It's almost peaceful. You'd never know I'm still covered in the blood of my friend.
I peek into one of the smaller buildings.
It has no roof and only two walls standing, and I wonder briefly if it had been someone's home.
If a little community had thrived here once, before the government decided everything was theirs.
I continue on, when I hear something. It's faint—the wind muffles it—but it's there. Voices.
On instinct I pull out my gun, walking towards the noise as quietly as possible, willing my feet to only hit soft earth instead of rubble, that's when I see it.
The large looming figure leaning beside one wall.
I'd know that frame anywhere. I can't make out how many there are.
The remaining wall shields the others. I should turn back, warn our group, but anger takes hold of my muscles, and I lurch forward until I'm standing right behind him.
In one swift motion; I click the safety off, and cock the gun aiming straight for the back of his head.
"Well, hello there, little menace," Tane drawls.
With trembling hands I widen my stance, and push the gun harder against the back of Tane's skull.
"What are you doing here?" I grind out through clenched teeth.
"We're here to talk," he says carefully. "You made quite the mess before you left. Care to explain cadet?"
Something about his tone sets me further on edge. In my peripheral, I see Vera standing alert with her hand on her weapon beside Lachlan, who looks as amused as he always does. I lean forward.
"Oh, my friend's death is a joke to you, is it? Fucking hilarious." I hate the crack that sounds in my voice, the obvious pain there.
Tane turns slowly, lifting his hands in the air in a show of submission, and I let him. The gun slides along his head, without losing contact, until the barrel sits between his brows. Our eyes meet, and I'm surprised by the empathy written across his features.
"Nothing is funny about that, Berkley was a good man."
My nose pinches, momentarily pained by the softness in his voice, before I hold my grip firm again.
This is the man who willingly does the Council's bidding, who has to know of their corruption, and yet participates, who's content to live in a world like that.
I hold onto the anger, the agonizing rage that sits festering near the surface now.
"I'm going to ask you one more time, before I start firing—why are you here?" I snarl at him. Vera inches closer, but she doesn't pull out her weapon.
"Maple, why don't you put the gun down, and we'll explain everything," Lachlan offers, but I can't rip my eyes away from Tane.
"We're here to help," Tane says, and I catch movement from behind Vera right before Tarius and Deacon leap over a partially disintegrated concrete wall.
Vera, being the predator that she is senses them, and turns faster than my eyes can register—quickly pulling her gun from her hip, and pointing it directly at Deacon's face. There's a scuffle to my left as Tarius is flipped over, his arms behind his back now held firmly by Lachlan.
"Enough! Put your weapons away," a woman yells, stalking out from the shadows. We all turn as she steps into the moonlight. I'm stunned as I see a familiar figure standing before me.
"Hollis?"
For reasons I can't comprehend, everyone listens to her. Lachlan steps away from Tarius, who stands up sulking, rubbing his arms. Vera straightens, lowering her weapon from a bewildered Deacon, and my arm sags, the gun along with it.
"What is going on?" I demand, baffled.
She looks the same, and yet somehow infinitely different. She's still beautiful with her chestnut hair slicked back in a bun. But her delicate features seem sharper, her blue eyes sparkling with something I never noticed at the diner. She wears combat clothing, no apron in sight.
She completely ignores me, walking straight towards Deacon; and for a moment it seems she's going to embrace him, kiss him even.
"I've been wanting to do this for a very long time," she mumbles, before cocking her arm back, and punching him in the face.