Chapter Forty-Seven
When Colton called it for the night, Gemma nearly collapsed in relief.
Every muscle and bone in her body ached like she’d been the one to take the steep tumble through the floor of the cave, not Christian.
Gemma yanked off her helmet and slumped to the ground, her back hunching over as fatigue claimed her.
A little bit of light remained as Reva’s sun dipped behind the mountain peaks.
Colton handed her a packet of his pelleted food. “You need to eat.”
Instinctively, Gemma thought to refuse, but sharing a meal would be the perfect time to attempt to con him into revealing details about the Dissent’s plan for Zion.
She took the food and ate the disgusting clumps in silence while Colton’s dark eyes scrutinized her movements.
“What?” she snapped.
Colton smirked. “Just trying to figure out how you fit into these plans in the first place. You’re not exactly . . . typical Dissent material.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He huffed. “Seriously, though. If you’d actually done your job”—Gemma’s eyes rolled—“what were you supposed to do then?”
Her palms began to sweat. If she spun this conversation to her advantage, she might learn something valuable. “I don’t know. Reymond said someone would contact me.” A blatant lie, but Colton didn’t know that. At least, she didn’t think he did. “I assume you.”
“No, it definitely wouldn’t have been me. I was told not to care what happened to you after you passed your Trials.”
Ouch. Confirmation she was nothing more to Reymond than a worthless pawn.
“What were your instructions, then?”
Colton laughed. “Stars, that was the worst attempt at recon I’ve ever witnessed. I’m not telling you anything, Gemma.”
She ground her teeth, her cheeks flushing. Maybe she was only good enough to be a decoy. She obviously couldn’t do anything else.
“Set up the shelter,” Colton instructed. “The earlier we leave tomorrow, the better.”
Gemma’s nostrils flared. “You set it up.”
He snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She glared at him. “I’m done being your prisoner, and I’m done being everyone’s puppet they think they can boss about. If you want to sleep in a shelter, you set it up yourself.”
That wicked smirk spread across his face again, and a chill ran down Gemma’s spine.
“Well, I would hate to inconvenience you.” Colton rose to his feet and erected his own shelter.
Afraid his retaliation for her disobedience would be swift and brutal, Gemma never let her eyes stray from him. But he just set the small cube on the ground, pounded it with his fist, and stepped back as it expanded. And for some reason, that made her stomach twist even more.
“If you don’t mind, though,” he said, his eyes full of villainy when he looked at her, “I do think I’d prefer to sleep alone tonight.”
Gemma swallowed. “That’s fine. I have my own.”
He grinned. “No, you don’t. You didn’t notice how surprisingly light your pack was this morning?”
Gemma’s stomach hit the sand beneath her seat. She leapt up and tore open her backsack. Except for a few basic supplies, it was empty. No.
“You didn’t think I’d take extra precautions against you running off while I slept?” Colton mocked.
She glared at him. “You really are a horrible person.”
He shrugged. “I can live with it. Have fun with the ghouls.”
Ghouls? What were ghouls?
A growl carried from the shadows a short distance away, and it dawned on Gemma exactly what he meant by ghouls.
They were the red-eyed demonic creatures they’d faced their first night outside Zion.
Gemma shot a gaze over her shoulder. The sunlight was minutes away from being gone.
And Colton had never lit a fire.
“Wait!” Gemma’s heart was in her throat as she rushed into the opening of his shelter. “One of those gray block things—I need to start a fire.”
A pistol was pointed at her face the moment she stepped inside.
“I thought I told you I wanted to sleep alone,” Colton snarked. “Get out.”
“Please, I need—”
Colton shrugged. “I don’t care. You’re not a marionette, remember? Take care of yourself.”
Gemma would’ve throttled him if her legs weren’t so wobbly. He was actually going to leave her out here. In the dark. By herself. And he knew what would come for her.
Tears burning her eyes, she stepped out of the shelter’s opening and smashed on her vest’s torchlight. At least she’d have something to protect her, even if it didn’t provide protection behind or to either side of her.
She furiously wiped away a tear that betrayed her. “You promised Christian you wouldn’t hurt me!”
“I’m not. I’m in here, remember?” There was laughter in his voice.
A soft whimper slipped through her lips. If she didn’t die tonight, she would definitely kill him in the morning.
Gemma paced in front of the shelter as the last traces of sunlight disappeared. Her heart rammed against her ribs, causing an ache on the left side of her chest. What would happen when those red eyes appeared from the darkness? When the growls surrounded her on all sides?
She sucked in a deep breath, her hands shaking. She needed a plan. Somehow, there had to be a way to keep herself safe. Without any weapons—not that they worked against ghouls—and with light only shining in front of her . . .
That was it. If she could guard her back, they’d have one less direction to attack her. Gemma could lay down on the sand, and with one of her sides against the shelter, she would also be guarded from a second path of attack. It was plausible.
At least, it was the best chance she had.
Gemma took a supine position against the shelter and waited for the growling to draw closer.
Within thirty minutes of the sun fully setting, the growling began.
An unprotected human, Gemma imagined it was thinking. A feast. Her chin began to tremble.
A second growl sounded minutes later, then a third and a fourth. Gemma gripped the sides of her trousers’ legs and stared unblinkingly at the stars above.
The growls grew even closer. She let loose a shaky breath, turning her head slowly to watch the horizon for any sign of the ghouls.
Crackling noises whispered back and forth. Are they . . . talking? The hairs on the back of Gemma’s neck rose.
Her torchlight flickered out.
No, no, no, no. She swatted furiously at the device, trying to reawaken the light.
Red eyes hovered mere feet above her head, the nightmare made flesh. From what she could make out in the dark, its form was a twisted mockery of humanity, its eyes blazing with an unholy fire that forced her mind into a whirlwind of panic and despair.
Shrieking, Gemma rolled away from the shelter to put distance between herself and the ghoul. Every instinct told her to run, but it didn’t matter how far into the darkness she went. She’d never escape the relentless pursuit of the desert-dwelling demons.
A cold dread settled over her like a suffocating shroud as more red eyes appeared on both her left and right sides. Warmth dampened the area between her legs as her bladder loosened. There would be no escape from these creatures, no reprieve from the fate that awaited her.
Again, the creatures crackled at each other. Then, in sync, they pounced.
Gemma’s scream died in her throat as her hands flung forward in a pointless act of defense. A soft, purplish sheen exploded from her palms and surrounded her like a dome.
The cries of the ghouls were deafening as they bounced off the shield. Their black talons clawed at the luster surface, but even they couldn’t penetrate it. What in the blazes?
Gemma stared out from beneath the dome, her eyes widening with every passing second. How am I doing this?
She yelped in pain as images flashed across her eyes: a bright-purple ball; red stone walls; her hand reaching for the orb; freezing pain; screaming into a pool of purple liquid.
The temple.
An eruption of light swathed the campsite, and the ghouls wailed as they turned to dust in the glow.
Gemma turned her head.
Colton had thrown a bomb from just outside his shelter.