The Dead-Tossed Waves (18 page)

The Souler woman still stands in front of me calling out orders. Someone hands the boy a sharp knife and I wonder if this is a kind of archaic sacrifice we weren’t told about in school, a symbol of defeating death by killing it in an elaborate ceremony.

The boy stands and stares at the Mudo so long that a few of the Soulers shift and raise their heads. But then he lifts the blade and the moonlight flashes off the design etched into the metal before he draws it along his own skin.

I shudder and gasp. Blood streaks down the boy’s arm, the Mudo surrounding him writhing at the scent of it. He clenches his fist, red drops falling from his knuckles. He lets the knife slide from his hand and fall to the stage.

And then he steps forward into the Mudo’s waiting arms.

I feel the scream building inside me, tearing along my veins. Pain radiates from my bottom lip as I bite into it to keep silent, my chest heaving as I try to swallow.

The Mudo lunges, grabs the boy and pulls him toward her. He willingly obliges, stepping closer to her snapping mouth. The Mudo’s teeth rip into the boy’s flesh along his neck but he doesn’t pull back. I watch as he tries to keep his mouth locked shut but he can’t and a tear glides down his face as his body crumples in pain.

The Soulers around him vibrate with excitement, some rising to their feet as the Mudo bites and bites and bites until the boy finally stumbles back.

The two men force the Mudo to the ground and someone slips a mallet into the boy’s hands as he drops to his knees next to her. Even from here I can see that he’s in shock. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his arms shaking. He struggles to lift the mallet and bring it down against the Mudo’s jaw. He can’t put much force behind the swing but the weight of the mallet head does its job and I hear the crack of teeth and bone.

Even that doesn’t stop her moaning, but now bits of teeth fly from her mouth as she works her jaw and the boy wipes his face on the sleeve of his now blood-drenched tunic. He sways back, placing his hands out to brace himself, but his arms have no strength and he collapses.

The woman who’d been standing in front of me runs down the hill and jumps onto the stage, falling onto her knees next to him. She pulls the boy into her lap, his blood seeping around them both.

She takes a collar and slips it around the boy’s neck. Then she folds him in her arms, squeezing him in a desperate embrace. Her voice is soft but I can still hear it on the wind up the hill. “You’ll live forever now,” she says, her face wet with tears.

I can’t believe what I’ve just watched, even as the sounds and images cycle through me. My body and mind revolt and I scramble away from the shadow of the arch. I’m not careful enough with my movement and just as the boy’s head snaps up, his jaw working and a moan rumbling from his lips, I drop my knife and it clatters to the ground.

My heart seizing with fear, I glance at the Soulers—wondering what they’d do if they found me here spying on them, if I’d also be sacrificed. But no one runs toward me or calls out. All their attention is focused on the boy who’s just turned. They struggle to attach a leash to his collar as he reaches and stumbles for the living around him.

I’m letting out a breath of relief and am picking up my knife when I notice that one of the Soulers isn’t facing the boy. Instead his eyes are trained directly on my hiding place. It’s Elias, and for a split second I think maybe he hasn’t seen me or that even if he has, he’ll let me go. But he breaks away from the others and walks quickly through the tall grasses in the overgrown aisles.

I turn and run, bolting from my hiding place and plunging into the ruins. I don’t bother looking back but I can already hear the footfalls of him coming after me.

I have a head start but Elias is stronger than I am. I race through the ruins, not paying attention to which way I’m going, just keeping the rise of the amusement park to my right so that I know I’m headed to the ocean. Sometimes I hear his footsteps behind me, slamming against the ground as he chases after me. “Gabry, wait!” he calls, and hearing his voice makes me run faster, harder.

All I can see is the boy, the way he let the Mudo bite and infect him. It’s unforgivable that they let him make such an awful choice. That Elias just stood there and watched. He was a child!

Elias catches me as I reach the seawall, his hand grabbing my foot as I launch myself over. I kick out and feel my heel connect. I need to run, I need to get away. I need to get back to the lighthouse and crawl into my bed and figure out what I saw tonight.

I struggle over the wall and fall to the sand, stumbling when I hit the ground. I hear the thump of him landing next to me and before I can stand he rolls on top of me.

His body presses mine into one of the dunes and we both wheeze, our chests competing for space as we gasp for air. I’m nothing but blind panic. Then my body explodes. As if this is the end, as if I’m drowning and this is my last chance to break free to the surface. I thrash against him, kicking my legs and beating at him with my arms.

I try to scream and this time Elias clamps his hand over my mouth. I try to bite him, feel my teeth sinking into his fingers, but he only winces and tightens his grip until I relax my jaw.

His body’s heavy on mine, crushing me. I feel his lips against my ear. “It’s okay,” he says.

“It’s all right, Gabrielle,” he repeats, as if I’ll believe him if only he keeps saying it.

The scent of him so close invades my body, his skin slick against my own. I pause, holding my breath.

“You’re safe,” he adds.

I want to believe him. I want to trust him as I did last night. I want to let him keep me safe and make it better. But I can’t. Not anymore. Not now that I know who he is. Not after what I just saw.

I turn under him until his face hovers over mine. The moon reflects off the edge of the dune nearby, casting shadows under his cheeks and curving along his jaw.

I stop struggling for just a moment and he eases his hand from my mouth. I lick my lips and can taste the remnants of his sweat. “You’re a Souler,” I say. “You’re one of them. You let them—” I can’t even finish the sentence because bile rises in my throat at what they did to that little boy.

I can’t believe that the hands holding me now, the body that stood by as that boy willingly infected himself, belong to the same person who comforted me so easily this afternoon. Who was able to make me feel so safe.

“It’s not that simple,” he says, his eyes exploring my own as if he’s hurt by my accusation.

“It is,” I tell him. “You killed that boy. That little boy. You just stood there and let it happen.” I shake my head, still unable to believe it.

I think about Catcher alone in a ruined building, waiting for infection to overtake him. I think about how Elias knew where he was. As if he was waiting for him to turn. Wanting him to turn.

“They’re monsters,” I say, barely giving voice to my words. I don’t know if I mean the Mudo, the Soulers or both. And then I stare him directly in the eyes. “You’re a monster.”

“Let me explain,” Elias says.

“No.” His face is so close that I can feel the heat of his breath. “You made your choice,” I add.

He opens his mouth to say something more but I don’t give him the chance. I raise my knee as hard and fast as possible, catching him unaware. His eyes go wide as he sucks in his breath. He tries to grip my arm but I twist away from him easily, rolling past his grasp. I pull my knife from my hip, wrapping it tight in my fist.

“Gabry,” he rasps but I don’t turn back. I sprint down the
beach, cutting toward the water as fast as I can, careening into the waves. I glance back and see the flash of white, Elias struggling to his feet and stumbling after me.

I dive through the surf, paddling through the water as hard as possible. My breaths are ragged, my skin stinging with salt, but I push through the pain of it. When I finally reach the stone jetty my hands slip on the rocks as I try to haul myself out of the water. The pale dome of Elias’s shaved head bobs as he swims after me.

For just a moment I hesitate. I’m surrounded by darkness, the fathomless water, the infinite sky, the lightless land. Nothing exists here; nothing is real. I think about falling back to the water, letting myself sink deep, letting the air seep from my body.

And then I jump from rock to rock until I’m on the other side of the jetty and dive back into the water, pulling myself toward the lighthouse.

Elias is a stronger swimmer, his strokes more even than mine. As I drag myself from the surf, letting the waves help shove me to shore, I know that he isn’t that far behind. I push my hair out of my eyes and stagger up the beach to the lighthouse.

I pause at the door, leaning my head against it, trying to control my breathing. Water stings my eyes, the salt of tears and the ocean dripping from my chin. I feel more than hear the movement behind me and I pivot with my knife raised, expecting to find Elias.

But it’s not him. It’s another figure that limps from the shadows, dragging his bad leg through the sand.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Daniel says, stepping closer.

I
can’t stop myself from glancing past Daniel to the edge of the waves where I see Elias creeping from the water. I can’t face Elias, can’t stand the idea of being near him. But I’m afraid that if Daniel sees him he’ll find out I was outside the Barrier and I’ll get into terrible trouble.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Daniel, trying to smile and fumbling to put my knife back in the sheath at my hip. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

His grin is wide but his eyes narrow as he pulls himself closer, moving slowly. “Seems like an odd time for a swim,” he says.

From the corner of my eye I watch Elias sneak up the beach. “It’s an outgoing tide,” I say, flustered, and step toward the door of the lighthouse. Daniel trails after me. “It’s the safest time to see the stars.” I swallow as Elias draws closer, so clearly visible.

I have to get Daniel away. “What brings you all the way out here at such an hour?” I ask, trying to distract him.

Daniel tilts his head. “I just thought I’d check on you,” he says. “You seemed upset when I saw you at the Barrier last night.”

Behind Daniel, Elias stops moving, drawing himself up a little straighter. He’d be stupid to let Daniel see him and yet he’s not doing a good job of hiding. He just stands there, his hands hanging limp by his sides, staring at me. If Daniel turns around at all, even glances at the ocean, he’ll see him.

I put a hand on Daniel’s arm to keep his attention on me but he seems to take it the wrong way. He raises an eyebrow and I find myself fumbling for words.

“I’m rude to keep you standing out here in the dark,” I finally say, pushing open the door behind me. “Please come in.”

He looks at me for a moment and I feel the water trailing down my back and thighs. He smiles again as I step aside and walks into the lighthouse. I glance back at Elias. He’s still standing there, the moon lighting his profile. His brow furrowed as if he’s asking me a question I don’t understand and don’t know how to answer. I close the door, cutting us off, and lean my head back against it.

I want this night to be over. I want to be alone. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to find some sort of peace and calm within myself. I’ll keep Daniel occupied long enough that Elias will leave and then once Daniel is gone I’ll finally be by myself. I just have to make it through the next few moments.

I paste on a smile and step forward.

Daniel walks around picking up items from the various shelves and examining them while I light a few lanterns. By the time the room is lit he’s circled back to face me.

He stares at me as if waiting for something. It’s like he knows something I don’t and it unnerves me. I walk into the
kitchen to find a cloth to dry my face and arms, then stoke the fire in the stove and place a kettle on top. Daniel walks up behind me and I try not to flinch at his nearness.

He reaches out and his fingers brush the side of my waist and then he’s tugging Elias’s knife from the scabbard at my hip. The muscles along my neck jump and I have to grab the edges of the counter to keep my hands from shaking. I don’t like the feel of him being so close.

“This is interesting,” he says, twisting the blade in the air, light sliding off the patterns. I can’t tell if he’s just casually noticing or prying for information. I let the air tighten with silence before I feel compelled to respond.

“Thank you.” I squeeze past him and pull down two mugs, setting them by the stove. As casually as I can I unwrap half a loaf of bread and set it out as well, trying not to think about my mother kneading the dough, her essence everywhere.

He walks closer to me, angling the knife between us so the light bounces from the blade and into my eyes. I squint back at him.

“You know, I’ve only ever seen work like this once before,” he says. “Very unique.” He sets it on the counter next to me, his fingers brushing my own. “Of course, the one I saw was part of a pair. The pattern was such that when you held the two blades together there was an inscription:
Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death hath no power.”