12. Sawyer
SAWYER
Time creeps into the night as I make my way through the thick forest, the temperature gradually diving, the light of the full moon dimmed by a fat cloud—drenched in dark gray.
The humid air teases the oncoming rain which will make it harder to see the traps littering the ground, but even worse, harder to hear.
I listen intently for voices, the snap of twigs, the shuffle of brush, but so far, five thousand seventy-five steps into the trees, there’s been no sign of anyone. No sign of the mines, no sign of a cluster of Keepers guarding them, no sign really of anything but traps.
I walk another three hundred eighty-four steps, scanning the flashlight’s beam along the ground in search of rope or metal, piled leaves, unusual depressions, unnatural disturbances in the Earth. Every quarter mile, the traps seem to grow more dense, so I must be getting closer to the money, but…
“Fuck,” I hiss, slowing to a stop while shining the flashlight around at nothing.
Over two miles in, climbing quickly toward three…
I had to have veered off course.
“Son of a bitch.” Clicking off the flashlight, I look into the distance all around, searching for even a flicker of lamplight.
Nothing.
Except…
I look to my left, eyes squinting into the distance not to see, but to hear. There’s a faint noise. Very faint, but high pitched. Human.
Crying. A high-pitched wail that becomes clearer when I close my eyes, crane my ear toward the sound.
Is that a … baby?
I blink my eyes open.
A baby… Three miles deep into the woods littered with animal traps, in forty degree temperature, with clouds threatening rain.
Am I hallucinating?
A nervous tremble slips into my laugh, something unsettled buried beneath. My arms jerk as something slithers up the cliff of my shoulder blades, and I squeeze my back to fight the sensation.
Ridiculous.
I’m not my mother.
I did not inherit her fucking disease.
Shaking my head, I click the flashlight and continue forward, memorizing a fallen tree so I can switch directions without getting lost. I count my steps away from the crying, but the quieter the noise gets, the harder it is to push forward.
I’m tired… I’m just tired…
But is that a real fucking baby?
I stop again, the flashlight turning into a strobe light as I tap it against my knee. It’s weak, but I can still hear the cry. A minute passes without the wails ceasing, no indication that someone is trying to soothe the infant.
Looking ahead, I shine the flashlight over the landscape but don’t take another step. I don’t think I can.
“Goddamn it.” I turn toward the sound and start that way, spotting more traps with every passing minute. The forest becomes a minefield to navigate, the flashlight pointed at the ground as I move with caution, tossing leaves up with a stick and side-stepping every covered patch of earth.
I don’t know how far I walk before realizing I haven’t been counting steps. Anxiety creeps into my lungs, filling the tiny gaps, making it harder to take in air.
I keep moving.
As the wail grows louder, there’s no question it’s coming from a baby. If it’s a hallucination, it’s a vivid one, and the possibility is almost more frightening than finding an actual infant in the middle of a forest. Goosebumps spread over my arms with a chill that rolls through me.
I pick up my pace, weaving around dangerous ground I don’t even stop to catalogue. When the noise sounds like it’s right in front of me, I jerk the flashlight over the area, searching for an adult who isn’t there.
Moving the beam to the forest floor, the naked infant screams in the light, its little arms and legs flailing.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, dropping the flashlight as I run to the helpless little guy.
I yank off my hoodie before bending to scoop him up, wrapping his freezing body in the material. Hugging him close to my body, I bounce—awkwardly, pure instinct fueling the movement. To my utter relief, it helps. Wails soften to whimpers.
A quick sweep shows the ground bare. No mother caught in a trap. No father in sight.
“Hi, Sawyer.”
I jolt so hard, the baby resumes his cries, and I hug him tight to my chest while turning to face Zephyr. The abandoned flashlight barely illuminates her silhouette, but I’d recognize that dainty voice anywhere. Endearing during normal circumstances, but now? Creepy. Frightening.
A blood red scarf hugs her neck, half covering her chin as she smiles—light, friendly, toothless. No concern for the crying infant in my arms.
What the fuck are you doing? I want to scream.
Instead, I nod at the baby.
“He was out here all alone. He’s freezing.”
She flicks her gaze at the child, giving it a moment’s attention. Dismissing it just as quickly. “What are you doing out here?”
The lack of surprise is even more alarming than the lack of concern.
“I was…” My lungs seem to freeze over. Every breath feels cold, too cold to form the right excuse, to even think of the right excuse.
I shift the baby in my arms, holding him higher.
“I mean, does it matter? There’s a baby freezing to death.
We need to get him to Aurelius.” I go to step around her but halt when Zephyr puts her hand on my arm.
“Here, let me see.” She holds out her arms for the baby—seemingly soothed, for now. It feels wrong to move him, like he’ll break or burst, but my experience with babies is less than minimal, so…
I hand him over.
Without so much as a sigh, Zephyr unwraps my hoodie and hands it to me.
“What are you doing?” I flinch from the cloth. When a beat passes without me taking it, she drops it in a pile of leaves. Then lays the baby on the ground. He starts wailing as soon as his back touches cold earth.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“He doesn’t belong to us, Sawyer… Our society only has room for those who bring us value. That’s how we stay strong.”
“What?” My voice is barely above a whisper, confusion and horror battling for dominance.
She picks my hoodie back up and tries to hand it to me a second time, but again, I refuse.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
She lowers the hoodie and sighs. “We have an unbalanced proportion of males who initiate into our society. If we kept all offspring, we would have a gender gap that would complicate mating ceremonies. Only one man and one woman share offspring.”
What? I almost ask again—an impulse, audible disbelief. But I don’t because finally, I understand. And it’s worse than I imagined.
“Are you saying you leave the baby boys out here to die?”
“Their fate is Mother Earth’s decision, not ours. If she chooses to use their bodies to create new life, it’s an honor. We celebrate their sacrifice. We don’t grieve it.”
What…
What?
What the fuck?
I blink, my lungs tight with words I don’t say. Stomach clenching into a fist, I search the ground for bones, evidence of twisted fucking logic I hope is a lie. A practical joke from an awkward, lonely woman.
Nothing obvious catches my sight, but… That means little.
They’re there. This isn’t a game.
“Here.” Zephyr holds out my hoodie one more time. “You look cold.” Her lips stretch into a caring, encouraging smile, her ears seemingly numb to the baby’s cries. Scary. Scarier than a petite, powerless woman should be capable of.
I snatch the hoodie from her outstretched hand and crouch to bundle the baby—the cult’s newest victim. Not their first. Not their last.
Leaving him—even temporarily—is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
Zephyr watches but says nothing. Standing, I gesture where I came. “We should get back then.”
She nods and sweeps her hand in a lead the way gesture. “Sure… After you.”
The walk back chills me deeper than the cold ever could. Zephyr chatters about rituals and nonsense I’d normally catalog without thinking, but I let her voice drift into the trees and focus instead on counting steps.
I’m going to need to know how to get back here.