Chapter 15
The men didn't know what hit them. Wendy took one out with an elbow to the head. A moment later, the second man collapsed into the mud at the edge of the water with a squelch. She dragged the two men over next to Kev and Cal.
The boots came loose with the snap of a latch. It took her a moment to get the man's feet out, and she began to sweat with every second of delay.
As if fate were laughing at her, Wendy’s laces tangled in twelve different places. She sat down in the mud and finished the process, cursing under her breath and looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was behind these two.
She shoved her own footwear into her pack and stood. The repulsors were too big, but she should still be able to use them.
According to Arie, the controls were mostly inside: curl your toes to go up, lean to go in the direction you want, and tap your toes together to go down. Wendy got comfortable with her balance before she took a breath and curled all of her toes.
A gentle but reverberating thrum pulsed through Wendy, and she rose six inches off of the ground. The weight of her pack pulled her back, and she started to lean. Every muscle in her body tensed as she fought to keep her balance. She tapped her toes twice, and came crashing back down to the ground, hitting hard and sprawling into the mud.
“Great,” she said to herself. The sounds around her had gone quiet. Was that because of her, or something else?
One of the men groaned.
Curl toes to rise, lean to go in a certain direction. Lean more for increased speed. Since she didn't have another option at this point, she got to her feet and tried again. The tops of the boots tightened around her calf muscles, and Wendy felt herself stabilize.
The ground fell away. Once she was a foot up, she uncurled her toes and leaned forward. The movement was slight, but it worked. The boots started in the direction she had indicated.
A grin split her face. Once the sun came up, she would get her bearings and then make her way to the rendezvous point.
She veered out over the stream, and found the boots worked just as well there as on land. It didn't take long for her feet and legs to cramp up. Her arms kept pin-wheeling despite her increased stability and she veered back and forth enough that her dad would have accused her of being drunk. But she kept going. Forward. Away from Mike and his Skinnies and the people she had almost called her friends.
The clouds parted, revealing the stars above and providing Wendy just enough light to see. After at least an hour, she spotted the silhouette of a large ridge line, and headed that way. The air remained cold and crisp, the world around her felt alive. She felt alive.
Each human-shaped shadow she passed made her believe Pelton was lurking nearby, trying to catch her off-guard. A fish jumping made her think of Kenzie, who loved to get away for the afternoon and fish. Their dad had often taken them both, before their mom got sick.
Wendy sighed. She didn't care what Mike had said, her people were smarter than that. Someone had to have gotten away. Someone was still alive.
The stream started down a steeper hill. Wendy needed high ground, so she abandoned the stream and made her way through the woods.
This proved to be much more challenging than staying over the water. The trees made visibility all but impossible, and there wasn't a clear path to follow. A quarter of an hour later, the boots sputtered.
Out of charge.
Wendy lowered herself to the ground just as they whined to a halt.
Should she stop here? The ridge line was still a few miles off, but she might be able to get there before sunrise. Wendy swapped out boots and started to hike.
A few early-morning- or late-night animals swished through the underbrush. None of them took more than a passing notice of the human.
Wendy reached the base of the ridge line and started to climb. Her leg muscles groaned in protest, but Wendy reveled in the pain. It meant she was not only alive, but alive and well.
The hike up this slope slowed Wendy down more than she would have liked, but she coerced her body to keep going. When she reached the top, enough light had risen to caress the eastern horizon.
A memory—not of the tunnels—surfaced. Something Wendy hadn’t thought about in years. A few months before her mom had died, Wendy’s dad had taken her and Kenzie up to the top of a nearby mountain peak he called Howling Wolf. She had only been eleven years old at the time, and could barely carry her own gear for the night, but she'd done it.
They had arrived well after dark, and both girls had curled up in their sleeping bags and immediately dropped off. Their dad had shaken them awake a few hours later to watch the sunrise.
Wendy only remembered living in the Den, so she was used to nature and the wonders it held, but this had been different.
A line of high, puffy clouds spotted the otherwise clear sky. Rays from the sun hit the clouds first, resulting in a striking array of orange and pink that reached from horizon to horizon. The peak they stood on towered above the rest. Wendy had been sure that they were on top of the world—they could even see the start of the dangerous plains.
Wendy had said as much to her dad. He had laughed, and then told the girls about the world before the Starvation. This was a tiny part of it. A mostly safe part. They were working to make things right again, but it would take time. He had said the responsibility to rebuild would fall to the girls someday. Wendy hadn’t understood what that meant until now.
A breeze came through the forest, rustling the branches and making the whole world below move. Wendy sat where she wouldn’t be easily seen, pulled out the roll and cured meat Cal had stuffed into the pack and ate it as the sun rose.
Today the sky was crystal clear. The rays of light reached up from the east like a crown, before fanning out and touching everything.
A new day. A new beginning.
The light tipped the tops of the trees like frosting, and then moved down. Wendy sat with her face to the sun, soaking in the energy and warmth. She stayed that way for a long time, eyes closed and breathing deep.
Once the landscape had been illuminated, Wendy stood and got her bearings. Howling Wolf stood on her right. The deep gorge left by a glacier a million years ago cut its way down the front face. Which meant Wendy had to go halfway around to reach the rendezvous point.
A glance between here and there showed Wendy some landmarks she should stick to. The climb had taken a lot out of her, so she found a dense copse of trees, put the boots in a sunny spot where they would recharge and curled into a blanket. With the warm sunshine coming through the branches, Wendy fell to sleep almost immediately.
The sun was directly overhead when Wendy roused herself from the best sleep she’d had in weeks. It was time to go. It only took her a few seconds to pack her gear and eat a quick bite.
The boots’ indicator light now shone green instead of red. She put them on, and spent a good half hour studying the land below her, watching for any of Mike's people.
Nothing. She started back into the valley.
Muscles Wendy had never known she needed protested as she found a rhythm with the boots. The process soon became familiar.
With the boots, a journey which should have taken the better part of three days only took one. Moving during the day was dangerous, but Wendy decided that taking advantage of the boots while she could see and they would charge was more valuable. Besides, she was going in a direction Mike didn't expect.
She hoped.
Wendy was halfway there before she spotted any signs of human life. Animal skeletons. No one had cut them apart to preserve the meat, and there were enough of them that a simple pack of animals could not have taken them down. Something that might have been a wolf still had bits of dried skin and hair sticking to it. One of its legs had been broken in half.
Wendy approached with caution. She circled and found tracks from bare feet. A human body—now mostly rotted away—lay near the outskirts of a large trampled down area.
It had to be the Skinnies. The Skinni
es that had attacked her camp. They had trapped the animals and devoured them. Like a pack of wolves, only they had once been people.
Wendy remembered hearing her dad say the Skinnies that existed now were different than they were at first. They were more intelligent, less feral. But looking at this spot where they must have camped for the night Wendy wondered how it could be true. The very air around her felt heavy.
Wendy prowled the perimeter until she found their path in and their path out. One led toward Shelter.
Her hatred of Mike blossomed anew. She would destroy him.
Wendy hoped the human skeleton had been a Skinny, and not someone she knew. She swallowed down her fear and loathing and began moving toward the rendezvous point. Howling Wolf loomed to her right, and before she got there, the sun had settled behind it.
Wanting to approach with more caution, Wendy took the boots off a mile before she reached the hill, and stashed them under some bushes.
The path from the Den to the rendezvous site included two secret tunnels. Those who got out on the boats could get close and hike up to it, unseen by most of the surrounding area.
As Wendy ascended, a cliff kept her hidden from eyes below while trees obscured the view from above. The setting sun also helped keep her concealed. Unfortunately, it also kept her from seeing as much as she would like. Once she reached the top, she would have a better view.
Reason told her to wait until morning, but Wendy was anxious. She had to know. Who had made it out? Which way had they gone?
Dirt hissed beneath her feet, and she did her best not to make any noise as she went up.
Wendy's heart sped up in a way that had nothing to do with the climb. Her hands shook from both exhaustion and excitement. She hadn't realized how alone she felt until now. Like most of her emotions since her mother's death, she'd kept these at bay. Her heart seemed to stop as she came to the top.
The copse of trees stood just as she remembered it. The setting sun still allowed her enough light to see by. Wendy slowly approached the little grove of a dozen trees, looking for any sign someone had been there. She wasn't surprised when she didn't find tracks. It had been weeks, and the rainy season had just ended.
Wendy found herself wringing her hands as she approached the first tree. Six trees held the possibility. The group was supposed to have marked two of them to indicate which direction they had gone.
The first held nothing. No surprise there; it was a hard path. The second was also unscathed.
She rushed to the third, then the forth.
Still nothing.
They must have used the last two. With trembling hands, Wendy took the dozen or so steps to number five. She reached out and touched the pristine bark of the tree.
No mark. No sign.
“No,” Wendy said. Her voice caught in her throat. She ran to the last one. The light faded completely. Not caring that someone might see, she pulled out a lamp to check the last tree. Desperate for any sign, she went around it twice.
“It has to be here,” she said. She went back to the others, stumbling on the roots and rocks. She must have missed something.
The copse around her blurred, and Wendy's world tilted. She checked each tree again. Then again. Her heart pounded, her mouth went dry. The strength in her legs gave way, and she went to her knees. The lamp clattered to the ground illuminating the long, bright path leading back the way she had come.
No one had made it.
Mike had been right. She had been the only survivor.
He had killed everyone.
Tears came. After years of holding them back, they came. Like a dam under assault, Wendy's barriers fell. Reason and hope drowned under the crush of reality. Wendy’s heart turned to stone.
She'd betrayed the last promise she'd ever made to her mother.
Wendy had lost her family.
She was alone. Truly alone.
She buried her face in her hands and wept.