The Forsaken (24 page)

I glance up at the trees ahead and see we’re making steady progress. There’s no sign of the drones or the feelers, but I know it’s just a temporary reprieve. They’ll come for us again and again. Until no one’s left. Without Liam, I feel depressed and alone.

The ground gets slippery again, and I slow my pace. I glance down and see that I’m stepping on one of those strange plastic bags. The ones with the chemical formulas printed on them.

“These are everywhere now,” Rika says, noticing it. “Especially after a feeler attack.”

I kick it aside with my foot. I don’t want more mysteries.
Only answers.

“Stop!” Veidman calls from up ahead. The line stops moving.

“What?” someone else whispers. My body tenses up. I don’t think I can handle another attack this soon.

“We’re close to the barrier!” Veidman calls out. “Come and look.”

We walk forward and gather around him.

“We’re near the southern perimeter of the gray zone,” Veidman explains. He stares off into the forest, like he’s scanning for secret landmarks. “The barrier should be about five miles ahead.” Veidman peers up at the sky. Clouds are moving in, and gray light filters down to us through the trees. “Rain’s coming. We better get moving.”

We slowly shoulder our packs and continue the journey.

I try not to think about Liam as we hike. I know I’ll crumple in a heap at the side of the trail if I let my emotions overwhelm me. I compartmentalize my feelings, packing them away in the back of my mind until I can deal with them later. It’s a skill I learned after my parents got taken. A skill that all orphans must learn.

I just focus on the gray zone. Getting past the mysterious barrier—if we even can—will only mark the beginning of my real journey. Inside the gray zone, I plan to seek any trace of my parents. I’ll leave the safety of the group if I have to. I’m glad I didn’t tell Gadya my secret; it’s best that no one knows my real motives. That way I won’t endanger anyone except myself.

I feel a droplet on my forehead, and then another. Soon it’s raining lightly. I just keep hiking, and so do my companions.

“There it is!” Sinxen finally yells as the trees start to thin. “The barrier!” He rushes forward.

We follow him, stepping out of the trees into a clearing.

“Crap,” Rika mutters despondently. Some of the hunters, including Markus, curse and throw down their packs.

I don’t blame them. Before us looms the surreal, impenetrable barrier to the gray zone. I’m surprised by how massive it is—about sixty feet high, and at least several feet thick. It’s nearly translucent, and slightly pearly, like an oil slick. To me it looks like solidified water standing upright to form a huge monolithic wall. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

Veidman strides right up to the barrier. I watch as he reaches out a hand and presses it against the surface. The rain makes the barrier easier to see, spattering off its edges, defining its shape.

“You sure it’s safe to touch?” Sinxen calls out, sounding worried.

“Why don’t you go find out for yourself?” Gadya snaps.

I’m still watching Veidman. His hand remains on the barrier, fingers splayed. He’s pushing inward, gouging at the material.

Rika and I slowly walk closer. She squints at it through the rain. “It looks kind of like jelly or something.”

She’s right. Like quasi-transparent jelly.

I’m almost there now. My feet make sloshing sounds with every step, because the rain has already filled my boots with water. I’ve taken my jacket out and put it on. I’m miserable, exhausted, and in mourning for Liam.

I glance over at Veidman, who’s ten feet to my left. Gadya walks over to the other side of him with Markus and the remaining hunters.

I watch Veidman’s hand slowly sink into the barrier. It doesn’t seem to be causing him any pain, but it looks like it’s taking a lot of strength. He’s leaning against the surface, using the force of his body to ram his hand inside.

“It’s warm!” Rika exclaims. She’s placed her palm on it too. “I thought it’d be cold.”

I reach out and graze it with my fingertips. It’s the temperature of freshly baked bread. Oddly pliable and organic.

I push against it, and the material pushes back. It’s spongy, gelatinous. I realize it’s going to be hard to fight our way through this, but I suppose that’s why it’s an effective barrier. I rake it with my chipped fingernails, but I barely make any impact. Each indentation I create just gets filled back in by the strange substance.

I look at Veidman. His fingers have formed a fist, and he’s got his hand most of the way inside now. “Ouch,” he suddenly mutters through clenched teeth. “Too much pressure.” He starts sliding his hand back out, but he’s stuck, as though the barrier is made of vertical quicksand. “Someone help me.”

Sinxen and another hunter rush over and help him pull his arm out. The whole thing happens incredibly slowly, and everyone pauses to watch. Eventually, Veidman reclaims his hand. It’s bone white, all the blood having been forced out of it.

“My fingers are numb,” he says, swinging his arm back and forth to get the circulation to return. We’re all looking at him for guidance, but none is forthcoming.

“Move aside!” I suddenly hear Gadya yell. I look back over at her. She has walked off a little bit and is standing twenty paces behind us in the tree line. She raises her bow and arrow, about to fire at the barrier.

Veidman holds up a hand. “Gadya, stop! We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Although Veidman is clearly the leader, and I’ve never seen anyone disobey him, Gadya’s now playing by her own set of rules. “I’m a warrior!” she calls back wildly. “This is what I do!”

Before Veidman can stop her, she pulls back the arrow and lets it fly with a twang of the bow. It zooms through the air so fast, I barely see it. Then it slams into the surface of the barrier.

When it hits, it creates a ripple effect. Circles of shimmering liquid reverberate outward from the point of impact. But it’s a remarkably languorous ripple, like time is slowed down inside the barrier. I see the arrow’s tip sliding through the liquid, decelerating rapidly with every millisecond.

And then it stops partway through, trapped.

We all stare at the arrow suspended in the strange substance. It made it only about a foot before getting stuck. A few colorful feathers stick out and mock us, like some kind of exotic flower.

“You won’t be getting
that
arrow back,” Sinxen remarks.

But Gadya’s already got another one ready, and it looks like she’s about to try again.

This time Veidman won’t let her. “Hold your fire!” he snaps. “That’s an order.”

She hesitates.

“We need to conserve our arrows,” he explains. “Besides, they’re not going to work. We need another way.”

“Can we dig under it?” I ask.

Everyone looks at me, except Gadya, who’s pretending I no longer exist.

“Not enough time,” Veidman says. “Plus, we don’t have shovels. And I’m guessing it goes deep enough underground that we couldn’t get through, anyway.”

“What about going over it?” Markus asks.

“Won’t work either.” Veidman is staring at the barrier. “We can’t climb up that high. We’d get stuck on top.”

I wonder to myself,
What the hell is this barrier made of? And
who would build such a wall?

Then I think that there must really be something worth hiding behind it—just like David said. But how will I ever find the section where the drones cross over? And the messages on the rocks inside? Will I really have the courage to leave the group if I need to?

I take a few steps back, trying to survey a larger section of the barrier. How do the drones get through this thing and into the gray zone so easily?

“Let’s walk around it,” Veidman instructs. “See if we can find a place where it gets thinner.”

I trudge after Veidman with a heavy heart. Not only is Liam gone, but his death was in vain. We’re not going to be able to get past this barrier.

I can’t imagine the trek back. I wonder if our village will still be standing, or if it has already been reduced to rubble by drones, and annexed by the Monk.

“Quick!” a voice suddenly screams out. “Over here!”

I freeze.

It’s the surviving builder, whom I don’t know too well. He keeps screaming hysterically. “Oh God, I found someone! It’s a boy! And he’s stuck inside the wall. . . .”

RECKONING

WE CATCH UP A
moment later. The rain has started coming down harder now. Cold drops pound the top of my head, and rivulets run down my cheeks and the back of my neck. I wipe rain from my eyes, struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing.

A skinny boy in black robes hangs before us, several feet off the ground. He’s partially engulfed by the wall like a bug in an old paperweight.

“Keep your distance!” Veidman cautions.

Gadya and the hunters already have their bows out, all aimed at the same spot. I get mine out too.

The drone looks to be about my age, with long dark hair. He’s short and thin, with a little peach fuzz stubble. His head, one shoulder, and one clawed hand are sticking out of the barrier. So is part of a leg and a foot. The rest of him is fully encased inside the translucent material.

His eyes are shut and his mouth is closed in a thin, tight line. Crimson blood has crusted around the edges of his nostrils and lips, as though squeezed out of him. He’s not moving.

“Is he dead?” I whisper.

Sinxen hears and glances back. “I think so.”

We stand there in the cold rain, scrutinizing this drone, none of us eager to touch him. His exposed skin is alabaster white.

“Who do you think did this to him?” Rika finally asks.

Markus shrugs. “Maybe he did it to himself, trying to get through.”

“But the pressure . . . ,” I murmur. “Could he really make it that far? And why is he turned around, facing us?”

I’m still watching the boy’s face, thinking to myself how awful it would be to die this way. To end up a frozen corpse inside the gelatinous barrier.

Then the boy’s eyelids flicker open.

“He’s alive!” voices start yelling.

Veidman steps forward. Gadya, Markus, Sinxen, and the others follow him with their bows. The boy’s pupils roll into position, fixing us with a bleary gaze. His eyes are pale blue, and I can see the pain in them.
The loss of hope.

“What’s your name?” Veidman asks.

The boy struggles to open his mouth, licking his cracked lips. Then he tries to take a huge breath. But he just gasps instead, like a fish on dry land. I realize that his chest must be under incredible pressure. “Help,” he whispers. “Can’t breathe . . .”

“‘Can’t breathe’? That’s not a name!” Gadya taunts viciously.

His eyes swivel toward her.

“Don’t look at me, drone! I’ll cut out your eyeballs and feed ’em to a hoofer!”

“Ignore her,” Veidman interrupts. “Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

“Please . . .” The boy can barely utter more than one word at a time. I realize if it weren’t for us, he never would have been rescued.

Veidman looks around at our small group. “We need to get him out. He might be useful.”

“He’s the enemy,” Markus says. “Let him rot. If he knew anything about how to get through the barrier, he wouldn’t be stuck.” For a moment, even Veidman hesitates.

“What if this were one of you?” Rika pleads, her voice ringing out over the patter of the rain. “Not every single drone is bad. They can’t be! Some just chose the wrong path. And this drone doesn’t pose a threat to us right now. We can afford to be kind, for once.”

Is she right? I think about David. About how he saved my life, and shared secrets with me. “I think I’m with Rika,” I begin softly.

“You and Rika can go stuff your kindness!” Gadya yells, cutting me off. “The wheel doesn’t respect kindness. Look what happened to Liam! And the others! And you just don’t care.”

“The drones didn’t take Liam, a feeler did,” I say. “Maybe a feeler did this to the boy.”

“Alenna’s right,” Veidman speaks up, before Gadya can shout over me again. “We have to get some answers from this drone.”

“And if he doesn’t have any, we can always put him back in the wall,” Markus says ominously.

Veidman and the others walk forward and grab hold of the boy’s free arm and leg. Gadya hangs back with her bow, covering the group.

I try to help by walking forward, crouching down, and yanking on the drone’s foot. I wonder how long he’s been trapped in here. The parts of his body inside the barrier are as white as a sheet of paper.

Gadya sees us having trouble. “You need me to do it right,” she says in frustration, tossing down her bow and joining the fray.

Progress is slow. First we get the rest of the drone’s shoulder out. Then another portion of his leg. Then part of his neck and chest. He starts to gasp as more air finally reaches his lungs. “Please, please,” he keeps whimpering in a high-pitched voice.

“We’re almost there,” Veidman tells him. Indeed, I can feel the jelly of the barrier loosening as we keep working.

Finally, with an explosive pop, the boy is pulled free from the wall.