Imposter (22 page)

Will

Two days later…

A thick, meaty hand streaked with soot and blood falls on my shoulder. “Come on. We’ve done all we can. Marcus received word that they set up a new safe house right outside the city.”

I tighten my hands, similarly stained, into white-knuckled fists on the windowsill. “No. There might still be survivors trapped in there.”

Gregor sighs and stares off into the distance. “If anyone’s still in there, we can’t get to them. Better leave it to the military.”

I laugh, a bitter sound. “Those assholes?” Even though we’re almost a mile away from the Smith, I can still see smoke rising in ghostly gray trails from the rubble. Dirty, mud-streaked people probably still scavenge in the ruins, though whether they’re searching for survivors or plundering whatever treasures they can find is anyone’s guess. “They haven’t even dug themselves out yet, let alone launched any relief efforts.”

Gregor grunts in agreement. “Musta been tough to get all them bombs to go off at once.” He studies me, probably trying to figure out what I know.

“Yeah. I don’t think they saw it coming.” Mira’s scream echoes through my head as silence stretches between Gregor and me.

Finally, he pushes himself away from the window and claps me on my good shoulder. “We gotta go. The others are getting antsy.”

I shrug him off. “Of course they are. Now that the real war’s started, they just want to run to safety.”

Gregor’s face turns red. “You better watch what you say, boy. We’re not cowards. A lot of the people left behind have kids. It’s just too dangerous.” He scowls at me. “I don’t know why we’re even talking about this. With Evie and all, you shoulda been the first one ready to leave.” 

A frustrated sigh leaves my lips. “But we’re not done here.”

He bobs his sweat-streaked head. “All that smoke ain’t good for her or the baby.”

The crushing guilt eats at my conscience, but I push it aside. “Fine. Let’s go.” As we walk to the door, I give the ruins one last, lingering glance.

Gregor stares at me. “What’s wrong?”

When we reach the door, I stop, uncertain whether to proceed. “It’s my fault. She was trapped, and I just stood there and watched her die.”

Gregor’s frown deepens the folds around his mouth. “You thought she was a First, man. Nothing wrong with that. I woulda done the same thing.”

“But she wasn’t a First. She wasn’t Socrates. She was Mira.” I stare at my hands, at the dark smudges from ash, soot, and blood.
Is some of it Mira’s?
Many of the bodies are too burned to identify. The putrid aroma of charred flesh still lingers in my nose.

Gregor pushes past me to open the door. “Don’t matter now. We gotta be gone, like yesterday. Sooner or later they’re gonna notice that the Postal Museum is one of the Smith’s last standing buildings. They’re gonna ask a lot of questions, and they have a lot of guns, so I can guarantee you ain’t going to like the way they go about it.” He pauses at the door. “We’re leaving in an hour with or without you.” He hurries down the narrow, unlit service stairwell to the ground level of the building.

Alone again, I creep down a different stairway and slip outside. Darting between broken buildings and debris takes me more than twice as long as I’d expect, but I still make it to the Natural History Museum without being noticed. Once there, I pause to let the tragedy of what happened sink in, like I have every time I’ve come and searched for survivors.

The jagged remnants of walls jut from the ground like rotten teeth. Support beams lean precariously and smoke still wafts from the ruins in a couple places. We’d managed to put out most of the flames, but in some areas it was too dangerous. The area where the stage and the podium once stood still smolders. There’s no way of knowing if all the bombs went off yet, so they don’t want to risk it. They’re right. The logical part of my brain says they’re right. But if my heart was in control, I’d still be knee deep in those ruins, searching for her. Maybe if I found something, even her body, I could finally sleep.

Frustrated, I turn away and skirt the edge of the ruin as I head back toward the Postal Museum. At the edge of the destruction, I glance down as something catches my attention. It’s a yellow sash just like the one Socrates, I mean Mira, wore during her speech. Its dirt smudged and creased, and it’s frayed edges flutter in the wind, but to me it glimmers like gold. I reach down and pick it up, careful to touch only the corner so I don’t get it any filthier.

“Will!” Gregor shouts from the corner across the street, his hands cupped around his mouth. “Are you coming or not?”

I touch the edges of the sash, imagining it knotted around Mira’s waist. “No. You go on ahead of me and take Evie with you.” I stuff the thin piece of fabric into my pocket. “I’ve still got some work to do.”

Gregor shakes his head, as though he can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to stick around. “Suit yourself.” He disappears around the corner, leaving me alone in the ruins of what was once my nation’s capital.

Mira

“Hold still. We need to change your bandages.” James leans over my leg where my shredded dress is folded away from my mangled knee. “There!” He pats the clean dressing as soon as he finishes wrapping it around my leg. “Soon you’ll be running through the forests, just like you used to at Chesaning, right?”

I scowl at his lame attempt at humor. “Yes, because that’s exactly what we did at the farm.”

With a light chuckle that belies the severity of our situation, he takes the small globe of captured light I’d been holding, turns it off, and pockets it. “Don’t want to waste these,” he says, patting his pocket. “We don’t know when we will be able to replace them if they run out of power.”

I force my fingers to relax from their white-knuckled grip on the stump where I’m sitting. “I swear you’re enjoying this.”

“What? Making people better?” An innocent grin stretches across his face.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure. That’s it.” The fire crackles next to us, beckoning me to lean closer to its warmth.

He puts his hand on my good knee. “Are you certain those few cuts are your only injury? I know we haven’t had much time to talk since we fled the Smith, but I want to make sure you’re all right, at least physically.”

I take a mental inventory. Everything hurts, but I’ll live. Others hadn’t been so lucky. My hand twitches at my side but touches only air. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

“I know. I miss them, too.” James's face creases deeply in pain as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking about. “Even in the most righteous wars there is a price to pay.”

I glare at him. “Another of your sayings? Save it. Right now I couldn’t care less.”

He turns his gaze back to the ragtag group of survivors surrounding the fire. “No. Just an observation from another time, that’s all.”

Before I can answer him, someone shouts, “Mira!” from across the darkened clearing.

I jump up and then wince as my injured leg almost gives out from under me. Before I can move another step, Tanner wraps me in a hard embrace, his body curving around mine. James smiles and retreats to the fire to give us some privacy.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasp.

“Sorry.” He releases me only to cup my face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re safe. When I heard that you were in there when it happened, I went crazy. You never should have been in there. We tried to get someone to pull you out, but you wouldn’t listen.” He buries his face in my neck. “My stubborn, stubborn girl. I’m sorry we had to keep you in the dark, but we thought you’d be safer that way.”

In the flickering firelight, I study my hands flecked with tiny glass cuts from the chandeliers. “Next time tell me, okay?”

Tanner cracks a smile. “You got it.” He brings my hand to his lips. “Everything will be okay, trust me.”

“Are there any other survivors?”

His eyes harden a little. I wonder if he thinks I’m asking about Will.

“Eliot.” I hurry to add. “Do you know if she’s all right? I… I know James said she and Ben didn’t make it, but”—I bite my lip—“I guess since they didn’t find her body, I hoped they were wrong.”

Tanner refuses to meet my gaze. “I don’t know, to be honest. There are still a few refugees trickling in, but with the government temporarily in shambles, it’ll be a while before they come up with a full list of the missing and the dead.”

The reality of their loss nibbles at the numbness engulfing my mind, but I still can’t face it. Not yet. Not when there’s a war to fight, like James says, or any other of the million things I have to think about that don’t hurt quite so much. The fire crackles, and the rest of the evacuees warm their hands by the flames. “What can I do to help?”

“Now you want to help?” Lewis Carroll glides out of the shadows. He wears a cruel smile, and the fire in the background gives him an eerie glow. Dressed in black, he blends in perfectly with the night, from his shoes to the hood covering his unruly hair. “Why, little Alice? You never wanted to assist us before.” He throws back his hood as he gets closer.

I stiffen, doing my best not to show my surprise at seeing him here. “That’s not true. I’ve done everything I can.” I step away from Tanner, but my knee screams in agony. I almost fall again but Tanner grabs my elbow to steady me.

“What are you doing here?”

Carroll bows, a deep, gallant movement that seems to stretch his arms out farther than they should, making him appear larger than life. “I’m here to see you, of course. I want to welcome you back into the fold.”

Once I’m firmly back on my feet, Tanner walks around me and claps the First on the back.
Do they know each other?
I gingerly test my bad leg. It hurts, but I can still attempt to escape if he tries to kill me again. Carroll catches my movement and winks. The glowing firelight captured in his gaze mesmerizes me, and all sounds from the campfire fade away. None of it exists anymore. Just Tanner, the man with the twisted smile and dancing eyes, and me.

After they release each other, Carroll approaches me. When I stumble back a step, he matches my movement. “What’s wrong, Alice? Are you afraid of me?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to show some semblance of bravery. “You did try to kill me the last time I saw you.”

He chuckles again. “A misunderstanding, I assure you. Neither of us”—he gestures at himself twice—“would
dream
of doing anything like that
now
.” The way he emphasizes the word “now” makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Tanner opens his mouth to say something, but Carroll cuts him off. “If you don’t mind, my dear boy, I’d like a word with Alice alone, please.”

Tanner shifts his attention to me. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.” Without waiting for my response, he joins the others at the campfire.

Feeling cold and very alone, I wrap my arms around my sides. Carroll sits down on a fallen log and pats the spot next to him. “Sit, please. I won’t bite, I promise.”

“I’d rather stand.”

Carroll folds his hands in his lap. “You have a spine, I see. I was worried about that.”

I rub my arms, suddenly chilled. “You’re crazy.”

“Me?” He pokes his chest. “I’m just a First who is also a slave. Two minds unfortunate enough to inhabit the same body at the same time. That is all.”

Somehow I don’t think that’s even the half of it, but the glint in his eye tells me that’s probably all I’m going to get out of him on that subject.

“Were you at the Smith when it blew up?”

He heaves a deep sigh. “No, unfortunately. I would have loved to see the old girl burn, but I was unable to witness that triumph.”

“What’s going to happen next?”

A wry grin stretches his lips. “Much of that depends on you, my dear.”

“Why? I thought I already played my part.”

“That was merely the first act. Right now we’re in a brief intermission.”

I scowl at his flippancy. “Do you find this entertaining? Is this some sort of sick game to you? People died. People I knew.” My voice chokes as Eliot’s face flashes before my eyes, and then Ben’s.

He chuckles, the sound so quiet yet somehow bouncing off the trees surrounding us. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made, little Alice.”

I glance back at the fire as a tired realization sinks in. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” Carroll’s mouth twists into a feral smile. “The greatest heroes always do.”

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Acknowledgements

When I decided to indie-publish this book, I knew I would need a lot of help. Luckily, I have been blessed with an amazing group of family and friends who not only support my writing, but also the general insanity that surrounds this writer’s life. First is my husband, who puts up with my odd hours, strange questions, and fervent obsession with fonts. I’d also like the thank my wonderful friends and family members who valiantly volunteered to be my guinea pigs and help me by reading, re-reading, and endlessly discussing this book. My editors, too, deserve a big chunk of thanks. Without you all, this book would probably be unintelligible and completely riddled with mistakes. Lastly, I would like to thank my awesome readers. If it weren’t for you and your continued support, this sequel may never have happened. I hope you enjoy it!