Creators(15)

“Anyone else?” Stephanie screamed.

The rest of Al’s men dropped their guns and held their shaking hands into the air. My father lifted his gun and rested it on his shoulder, sauntering over with half his mouth turned up into a grin.

“I let you say your words, but I’m done now. The next time you open your mouth and say anything against me, I’ll jam this rifle down your throat.”

“Go to hell,” Al spat.

“Look around.” Without another word, my father stepped over Al and headed toward the community. “We’re already there.”





Chapter 6


“I need more bandages, sheets, anything to help soak up this blood,” Sharon yelled, nearly knocking me over as she ran toward the community’s makeshift infirmary. Despite being ready to give birth at any moment, she moved with a quickness that defied logic. But, then again, she had always put others before herself.

My father’s soldiers ungraciously dragged Al and his wounded men into the gates of the community by their arms. When the other members saw us enter, their guards following behind us with bowed heads, our men holding their guns, they scurried back into their rooms, rushing what children they had left far away from us.

The community had always feared invasion by the council’s chosen ones; they never thought they would have to fear their fellow naturals.

My father had told me that this was the way it needed to be done—the way he could protect us all. I knew the community would have a hard time accepting that. Especially considering he had shot one of their leaders…but they really didn’t have a choice.

While my father went to work setting up a perimeter, replacing the community’s watchmen with his own trusted guards, I ran as quickly as I could behind Sharon, dragging my little sister with me.

“Please, Tess, I’m tired. I can’t run so fast,” Louisa said.

I shut out her pleas. There would be time for her to complain and moan later, but now we needed to search for the truth. That was all that mattered in the end. Inside the walls of the community, I could almost understand my father’s frenzy, his willingness to do whatever it took to protect his own. I would do just about anything to find the answers I needed for my sister. Was she going to die? The only person who could even possibly tell me was off tending to the wounds of three men my father was responsible for shooting.

When I busted into the small infirmary, my hair sticking to my forehead with sweat, the sight of blood nearly made me throw up. Towel after towel lay abandoned on the floor as Al and his men cried out, cursing my father. Sharon and two others, a man and woman I vaguely recognized from my time in the community, were exchanging a lightning-quick series of medical terms I didn’t understand.

“You won’t take my leg, Sharon. I’d rather die. You hear me?” Al screamed, his face beet red from exertion.

“The wounds aren’t too deep with these two, but I’m afraid…” The woman’s voice trailed off, her face grim as she stared down at Al.

Sharon gave the woman a curt nod, hustling to a drawer and yanking it open. I recognized the needle and thread from my own experience getting stitched up. Sharon threw it to the woman.

“Lazarus? I need you to go find Eric and Lockwood. We’re going to need help holding Al down.” Sharon panted, running a trembling hand through her hair.

I swallowed, forcing down whatever food was left in my stomach. I had seen a lot of blood and death in my life, but something about watching Al pray and beg not to have his leg cut off caused my very being to shake. Under the monster was a man, and for some reason, that made this all the more frightening.

My sister urgently tugged on my hand, but I wouldn’t leave. If I had learned one thing in the past couple months it was that life was unpredictable, wild—the bitch of fate itself. This was where my sister needed to be, and I wouldn’t move from this space until I attempted to make sense of a world that seemed increasingly senseless.

I just couldn’t.

Sharon turned back to the drawer and pulled out a saw. At the sight of it, my sister gasped and grabbed my hand. “I…I can’t. I can’t—” A frantic, high-pitched squeak issued from her lips and she fell to the floor.

It was only then that Sharon saw me. Her eyes traveled to where my sister lay on the floor, stirring slightly. Her eyes fluttered as I gently shook her back to consciousness. Sharon placed her hand over her abdomen. “Oh, Tess,” she whispered.

Her voice didn’t sound helpful. It only sounded sad.

I gasped for breath, suddenly finding it near impossible to breathe. “You…you have to help her. Check her,” I begged. I didn’t care about the men behind her that were also calling for Sharon’s attention.