Escape from Harrizel (36 page)

Curses break out, each grasping what’s
suddenly at stake. Pratt cups her hand over her mouth, running to
vomit outside the lot. I keep her in view—the last thing we need is
for someone to go missing out here. Griffin follows in Pratt’s
response, falling to his knees and regurgitating near the same
patch of skinned floor.

“
Gross
,” Clark curses under his
breath, throwing a glare my way. “You couldn’t tell us this
before?”

“You’d believe me?”

“At least we’d have a warning. An
idea
.”

“To cushion the blow?” I walk deeper into
the lot, “You need to be
angered
,” I clutch my fists, my
voice trembling at the word. It’s important they understand this.
“I don’t want to take away your
anger
.”

I scan the faces but the others seem
horrified. Frightened. Uncertain. Even if I told them what they
were walking into, they’d be just as shocked. What they need is
time to absorb it, like I had. Time to wrap their minds around it,
to soak in its reality, allowing the one true emotion to surface in
its wake—fury.

A soft, aching whimper sails toward us, and
Reid and Tucker fly in its direction, trying to locate the source
of the voice. They’re searching for only a minute when suddenly,
Griffin comes barreling out of nowhere, knocking past them.

“I wone’foget th’marows nest time…”

“Hinson?” he tries, his voice enthralled at
the word, “
Hinson
?”

“…th’marrows nest time…”

“Hinson!” he calls again, confused,
searching around frantically, trying to find her. He collides into
a tree, pressing his fingers all over the trunk. “Where are
you?”

Finally he sees it—the two lips unnaturally
separated. He stops, watching them move again, matching the sound
to their movement. Her eyes blink emphatically, but can’t see him,
staring ahead at nothing.

“Hinson?”

She stops and sniffs, her lips snapping
shut. She tries again, chomping down as a ravenous moan
escapes.

“Hinson?”

She snaps her lips again, trying to take a
bite, a voracious growl escaping.

“What happened?” he yells. “What
happened
to you?” Tears gush as he falls to his knees,
sobbing at the base of the tree. “What happened?”

“You remember her?” I ask just over his
shoulder. “You remember Hinson?”

Griffin doesn’t answer, only continues to
sob, his hands clobbering his face like giant mitts, hiding it.
We’re probably not even here to him right now and so I turn my
question to Sampson, confusion in my eyes.

“There’s a loophole, of course—always an
out. In case something went wrong. There would have to be a way to
retract what was done. In this case, your memories of her. It
appears voice recognition is the key.”

“So obvious?” Reid asks.

“Well, you’re not supposed to be out here…”
Sampson reminds him, “so…”

“But the others?” Pratt’s back at my side,
wiping her mouth clean. “Are they
all
out here?”

Before I have time to wrap my mind around
the gravity of her question, Griffin is on his feet, tugging two of
Hinson’s elbows free but getting nowhere. She’s snapping at him but
he keeps trying, tears gushing down his face. He pulls so hard that
he loses balance and falls backwards onto the skinned floor. He
scrambles up but Reid’s at him in an instant, pinning him to the
ground.

Then Griffin slams his fist into his
jaw.

It’s so sudden that no one expects it,
especially not Reid who absorbs the swing fully, rolling to the
ground at the mere impact. He’s on his feet again in seconds, as if
he’d merely fumbled—as if it’d been a simple error of balance.
Griffin tries scrambling up but Tucker, Chief and a few others
retrain him. Reid approaches, massaging his jaw.

“I’m not trying to fight you,” he exhales.
“No one is.”

Griffin tries breaking free again but Reid
signals to the Rogues. They drag him away but he cries out, nearly
escaping. He’s tackled and then pinned to the ground again. I
glance to Reid.

“Are you okay?” I mouth.

He nods.

Part of me wants to kick Griffin for hitting
Reid without cause. But the other part understands. The anger
pumping through your veins. The adrenaline. Of wanting to kill
something.
Someone
. Wanting to hurt them so they know what
you’re feeling.

Pratt asked a question before, a question
that made me queasy.

Are all the others out here too?

I already know the answer.

“Raj?” I dart from tree to tree, knowing she
can’t hear me. “Raj?”

“Fallon!” Reid calls behind me, holding a
babeeb out to light our way. “Stop!”

The trees light up at my cry, some mumbling
while others chomp down as I pass. Pratt throws her hands over her
ears just as Reid catches up with me. He grabs my elbow, yanking me
back toward him. “Wait! You can’t even see where you’re going.”

“But she—”

“You’re not going to find—”

“They’re lovely, Marshall,” Raj’s soft voice
joins the others, “you shouldn’t have.”

I stop. “Raj?”

Reid holds out the babeeb, the shadows
vanishing as Raj’s mutated form comes into view. She grows more
autonomous than Hinson, her jaw, neck and shoulder free. But the
skin on her torso and forehead meld into the bark, strapping her to
it. Her arms are lost; but both knees, calves and thighs
protrude.

“Raj?” My heart is thumping wildly. “Raj?
Can you hear me?”

Her vacant eyes stare out, seeing nothing.
“I hate digging. You’d think they’d notice if we skipped?”

“Raj?”

“Thank you…” her pale lips pull back into a
grin. “They’re lovely, Marshall. You shouldn’t have…”

“Please Raj…” I put myself in her eye line.
She stops talking and sniffs, chomping down, trying to bite me. An
ungodly sound emits from her snapping jaw as she tries ripping
herself free.

“Get back!” Reid yanks me toward him.

Raj snarls again, biting down over and over,
trying to tear her skin restraints free. A deep moan escapes as she
hisses.

“What is this?” I turn to Sampson. “What
happened?”

He’s grouped with the others behind me, all
standing rigid. Tucker and the rest of the Rogues approach, except
the few still keeping Griffin pinned down.

I gesture to Raj over my shoulder. “Is there
a way to undo this?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“So we can’t help her?” Pratt asks, joining
my side. “None of them?”

“I’m afraid not,” Sampson sighs. “I wish
there was something to be done for them but at this point… I’m
afraid it’s too late.”

“How is this possible?” Reid asks. “Do you
know what happened to them?”

“Ah…” Sampson gulps, “there’s much to be
discussed. Much to inform you about. Especially you, Fallon,” he
turns to me directly, “with my sincerest apologizes. In my recent
understanding of events, you were partially right in your
assumption.”

“About what?”

“Their state of existence.”

I narrow my eyes. “How do you know?”

“I’ve confirmed it with Blovid.”

It takes me a minute to recognize the name.
Sampson used it once before when telling me a long story. That’s
right… Blovid had something to do with the massacre on Harrizel.
What had he said about him again?

“How am I
partially
right?”

Sampson takes a breath, glancing around the
faces and then, to the mutated lot. To Raj, just feet away, melted
into the tree, her own skin restraining her to it. “Perhaps this
isn’t the best place to talk?”

“Camp?”

Sampson nods, locking eyes with Reid who’s
quick to dismiss the Rogues. They start back the way we came,
everyone filing away silently. I glance back at Raj. How can I
leave her like this? Out here, mutilated, unable to escape?

“Come on,” Reid tugs.

We head back to Camp in near silence, except
for a few unsettling coughs and a quiet, but endless bellowing from
Griffin. Once we reach the trunk, I make for Sampson, narrowing my
eyes. “You said I’m partially right?
How
?”

“Yes. I’ve confirmed with Blovid…” Sampson
takes a moment, “…they’re attempts at reanimation.”

I’m about to say something but shut my mouth
immediately. There’s only one word I can form. “Reanimation?”

Sampson said it yesterday, right before
going into his trance. The word unnerved me then, but I put it
away, burying it beneath his momentary mental flight and the worry
of telling everyone what I saw. But now, as Sampson says it again,
the word, eerie and evil at its core, springs up once more, setting
a chill over me.

“To create an army, we believe.”

“An army?” Reid glances to me, then back to
Sampson again. “For what?”

“Sympse,” Vix places a hand on his arm, her
velvety voice alarmed.“You’re not saying it is true?”

She seems to understand and judging by the
horror marring her face, it’s not good. Sampson nods, glancing
around at all of us, everyone in the compacted burrow, inhaling a
deep breath.

“The Dofinikes…” he begins, his words shaky,
“…are at war with each other. The human massacre years ago was only
the beginning of the split. Those who wanted the genocide completed
went mad, secretly seeking ways to strike back at the ones who
ordered the cease-fire.”

“Blovid,” I say. “He was the Dofinike leader
who ordered it to stop?”

Sampson nods.

“And what?” Clark sneers. “They’re still
trying to get him back?”

“In so many words… ” Sampson glances around
at us. “Reuzkimpart wanted the genocide complete.
Still
does. It is my understanding—along with Blovid’s—that Reuzkimpart
wants to create an army, an army capable of reanimation after
death. An army… even Blovid is unable to defeat.”

“I don’t get it,” Clark shakes his head, “if
Reuzkimpart wants us dead, then why reanimate us?”

“He
does
want you dead. But he wants
you to kill
yourselves
. You saw what they did,” Sampson
gestures to the hovel’s wooden door, “what they tried. This
reanimation would be for the sole purpose of tearing down other
humans. You’d be destroying yourselves. It’d be…” he searches for a
way to better explain it, “like unleashing a hoard of zombies on
earth.”

Silence sits in the air like a soluble mist.
No one wants to say it. No one wants to even think it, let alone
admit to its reality. We’re an endless supply of easily discarded
tools to create an impenetrable army to ensure our own demise.

“You’d eradicate yourselves without them
ever having to lift a finger. And,” he sighs, “by the look of Raj,
they’re getting closer.”

“Well what do we do? How do we stop it?”
Clark asks.

“They’ve started war,” Chief says, more
curses and questions flying through the room.

“He’s going to keep going until it works,
right? Until he gets his army?” I look to Sampson who nods. “Then
we
have
to retaliate.”

“Yes, but
how
?” Clark whines.

“We find the memories. We use them as
currency to buy our supporters. We
mobilize
,” I lock eyes
with Reid and Tucker. “When the timing is right, attack. What we
found tonight doesn’t change anything. Sampson,” I turn to him,
“you said a three to five day window. Any clue when that might come
up?”

“As a matter of fact, Blovid has given me
the green light for eleven days from now. He’s been made aware of a
Vermix meeting at that time…”

“Vermix?” I ask.

“Means
true to Dellapalania,
” Sampson
exhales sadly. “It’s what we’re taught—that Dellapalania should
always be put first. It is
not
a belief in the Way or
honoring the Three Worlds and Three Gifts.”

“So,” I’m still trying to put this all
together, to make sense of all the new terms and events, “Arizals
and Vermix are…”

“Enemies, at least as of the massacre…”
Sampson explains, “and it’s only getting worse. Blovid has informed
me of a Vermix meeting in eleven days and supposedly, it’s to
discuss progress on this very project. They’ll unite to discuss
their secret weapon—the undefeatable army being built here on
Harrizel.”

“
Us
.” Pratt confirms.

“The meeting—as I’m to understand—is
supposed to last for ten days, at which point Beshib will return
with more Vermix and by then, it’ll be too late,” Sampson glances
around. “They want more testing done, more
desirable
results. They’re getting closer but Reuzkimpart is impatient,”
Sampson locks eyes with Reid, then me. “This is when we have to
move.”

Reid soaks in the words like Tucker and the
Rogue Commanders next to him, lost in their own quick analysis of
what’s been revealed. Are they scheming their own plans to victory?
What have they come up with?

I look to Sampson. “Eleven days?”

“It’s our best shot.”

“And the Kings?” Jace poses, a quick glance
at Chief before he crosses his arms. “They’re still as real a
threat as the Dofinikes.”

“The Vermix,” Reid corrects.

“Right,” he nods. “They’ll need to be dealt
with. If there’s any hope to take the Castle.”

“So we deal with them first,” Able says.

“Yeah,” Clark sighs with annoyance, “but
how
? Got any ideas on this one?” he directs the question to
me.

“Not this second,” I glower, “but we’ll come
up with something.”

“Like?”

“Maybe using you as bait to draw them out
here,” I smirk before turning to Reid. “How many are we talking
again?”

“Looking at about fifty Kings.”

“And their Clients? Scouts? Would they pose
a threat?”

He shrugs, “Depends. Most Clients are too
scared to leave or change sides. If the Kings were removed
completely, I don’t see them as much trouble.”

“And the Scouts?”