"Shit," I whispered. Relief that he hadn't hit the ground was short-lived as the realization he was way too exposed sunk in. "We have to help him." I glanced over and saw Icarus scanning the area, like he was looking for solutions that weren't materializing. The hand I could see was reaching back as if to remove something from his pocket.
"Don't. Move." I didn't actually hear the words come from his mouth. It was more a combination of lip reading and my own mind telling me the same message. My mind and Icarus had nothing to worry about because I was frozen in fear. Over the years, I'd seen Troika officers laughing over footage of bats ripping apart animals. I knew they were designed to inflict ultimate pain and a slow, torturous death.
But before Icarus could do whatever he had planned, Dare decided he had taken too long to act. She leapt down from her own branch. Just when it looked like she was going to land on the same branch as Rabbit, her hand slipped. She plummeted toward the ground and landed in a heap. In the next moment, the swarm of bats reached the tree.
My heart tried to claw its way out of my chest. I moved to leap down, but Icarus's shout stopped me.
"Do you want to die, too?"
"Of course not, but I can't just sit here and watch them get killed." I couldn't keep the accusation out of my voice. The judgment over his own assumed lack of interest in saving his team. Before he could answer or defend himself I started crawling out of my perch.
"Damn it!"
The high-pitched noises made my eardrums feel like they would burst any second. The thorns and branches bit into my hands. And behind me, Icarus launched creative curses after my retreating form. I focused on trying to reach Dare before the bats decided to attack. By the time my feet touched the ground, the kid was screaming for help. I didn't pause to see if Icarus followed me. I just launched myself toward Dare's too-still body.
The bats were circling the tree. I had to duck and roll to avoid the wide ribbon of claws and metal fangs.
"Six!" Rabbit called. "Help her!"
I nodded curtly, not making eye contact in case he'd see my fear. A few more running steps and I slid onto my side to land next to Dare. I curled my body around her, ducking my head over her shoulder to look into her face. Her eyes were closed and a nasty red wound pulsed on her scalp. A blood-smeared rock nearby told me she'd had the roughest possible landing.
The wings circling us kicked up a cyclone of wind. Small rocks, dry grass stalks and dirt got into my eyes, my mouth. I shied away from the stinging projectiles, but Dare didn't move. I wedged two fingers against her neck. The quadruple beat of her six-chambered vampire heart was dull but blessedly present.
Alive--for now.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Icarus climbing Rabbit's tree. Squinting, I cursed the coward for not helping me. Even if Dare regained consciousness and could fight, the two of us versus a swarm of blood-thirsty bats was no contest.
Why were they sitting there for so long? Were they toying with us? I felt my own thumping heartbeat and decided they were toying with us. Blood was best served warm, after all, and nothing warmed a human's blood like fear.
My eyes were scanning the immediate area for a weapon when the air shifted. Hard to tell what exactly. A lessening, I guess. I licked at my dry lips and tried to keep my legs from twitching despite the overwhelming urge to run. I curled tighter around Dare's body, hoping the position would afford us both some protection. And then, from what seemed a far distance, the sound of a concussion--almost like a bottle rocket--cut through the other noise, muted but distinctive. The noise sounded, the thump-thump-thump of my heart in my ears, the maddening flap of thousands of wings. And, finally, the entire swarm of bats took off like tiny bullets through the blue sky.
I didn't move for a long time. I'm not sure for how long, but it was well after the vibrations had quieted and the wind had died down and the sudden silence pressed in from all sides. Eventually, the undergrowth rustled and the sounds of breathing reached me. Jerking around from surprise, I turned to see Icarus's solemn face peering down at me.
He didn't offer a comforting touch of the arm or a polite inquiry about my well-being. Instead, he simply said, "Time to move."
"Wh--why did they leave so quickly?"
He held up a small device. I recognized it as the item I'd seen him pull from his pocket earlier. "Sonic charge."
He knelt down beside me and checked Dare's vitals. Using a dirty hand, he slapped at her cheeks and poured a little of our precious water supply on her lips. Eventually, she sputtered and came to cursing.
"What the fuck happened?" she demanded.
Icarus smiled down at her. It was the first time I'd seen the expression on his face and was shocked to find it utterly transformed his looks. The scars were less noticeable and it was hard not to think this Icarus was maybe a little likable. But then I remembered how he'd hung back while Dare lay so vulnerable on the ground. "You tried to be a hero," he said. "And almost got yourself killed." His expression didn't change despite the reprimand inherent in his words.
She gasped and tried to sit up. "The kid?"
Icarus and I pressed her back. Behind us, Rabbit called out. "I'm okay."
I turned to see Rabbit looking incredibly young and vulnerable as he leaned against a tree trunk like he needed its support. He forced a brave smile, but his hands were digging into the bark behind him. Then Icarus made some joke I didn't get--some sort of insider secret joke I wasn't invited to share. Rabbit laughed and Dare chuckled between wheezes.
While they talked, I checked over her limbs for broken bones. She gasped when I touched her ribs on the side she'd landed on, but I quickly realized they were bruised, not broken. Icarus met my gaze over her and raised a brow. "She'll live," I said. "But I'm worried about moving her."
He grimaced. "No choice. That diversion won't keep the bats away long. We need to double time to Book Mountain before dark."
We both glanced down at Dare, who'd been listening to the exchange. She licked her lips. "I'll be okay, I think. Just help me up,"
Together, we hefted her off the ground, ignoring the groans and hisses she couldn't keep in. Finally, after a little bit of wobbling, she managed to stand on her own. She had a goose egg on her forehead, a few bruised ribs and probably some nasty contusions down the right side of her body. I grabbed all her gear despite her protests while Rabbit found a long branch for her to lean on. When he ran back, holding it out to her like a trophy, she threw it aside. Ignoring the kid's hurt look, she raised her chin. "I can do this on my own."
With that she limped off with Rabbit trailing her with a hangdog expression. I stayed behind for a few moments. Tilting my head back, I look up at the perfectly blue sky with fat cotton wool clouds. If I squinted just right, the image totally filled my vision. For those few seconds, I could imagine I wasn't standing in the middle of a ravaged wasteland filled with vampires who wanted me dead--or worse. I could pretend that I was still young. Still five years old, laying in a field next to my mom, who pointed out clouds with interesting shapes. My eyes stung for those long ago days, back before the vampires came and mama died. I mourned for that little girl who had yet to suffer the touch of cold, dead hands.
"Six!" Dare yelled. "Move!"
Five.
Three hours later, the sun was a bloody highlight along the horizon. Overhead the happy blue sky had dissolved into the inky twilight shadows. I smelled our destination before I saw it. The closer we got, the more the putrid cloud of rot and decay coated the nose and mouth. I covered my face with my elbow. "Christ, what is that smell?" I demanded through the crook of my elbow.
By this point, we'd come over a rise and could see the source of the stench. Spread out before us were dozens of mounds of garbage that seemed to stretch for miles. A large fence surrounded the place, but it was pocked with holes and fallen sections, like the people who created the landfill had even given up on it.
Icarus motioned ahead in a wide, sweeping gesture. "Welcome to the Book Mountain."
"Book Mountain?" I said. "More like Trash Mountain."
Icarus's eyebrows twitched with annoyance. "Under all that trash is one man's greatest treasure."
"Saga?" I said, repeating the name they'd mentioned.
"Only rebels get to call him by that name," Dare said. "You will call him 'The Scribe.'"
"Do you even know what a book is?" Icarus said, his tone insulting.
I frowned at him. "Of course." Although I hadn't seen an actual book in years, I still hadn't forgotten how precious they were to my mother. Our little apartment was filled with rickety bookcases made from cinder blocks and wood. Mom used to leave paperbacks all over the house so she'd never be more than an arm's length away from one of her precious books.
The rusted metal gates were covered in pits and flakes of paint. A drunken sign hanging from the top warned trespassers to keep out.
I rolled my eyes. "That gate wouldn't keep an infant out."
A smile lifted the corner of Icarus's mouth. "Don't let it fool you. Saga has plenty of booby traps throughout this place. Keep your eyes open and be ready to duck and roll."
The gate screeched a warning but offered no other resistance. Beyond it, as far as I could see, were mountains of trash. Rusted out cadavers of automobiles, wheel-less baby carriages, old clothes waving in the breeze like flags of surrender. Hills made of plastic bottles and used diapers. Aluminum cans, cereal boxes, containers made of something Icarus called Styrofoam. After years spent in the sterile halls of the dormitories and the crisp, modern palaces of the Troika's leaders, this pit of rot and decay was a shock to the system. A morbid museum documenting the consumption habits of pre-war humans.
As we passed a tall pile of shoes, Icarus stopped and started digging. I looked down at my feet. By that time, the shoes the Chatelaine had given me were meager scraps that barely covered my feet. The places where they'd worn away were covered in weeping blisters and cuts from two days of walking. Still, I hesitated to dive in like Dare and Rabbit did the instant Icarus gave the nod. Rabbit emerged from the pile with a victorious whoop. He had a boot in each hand. The set didn't match--one was black, the other brown--but they appeared to be the same size. Without hesitation, he kicked off his threadbare sandals.