Creators(6)

Gone was her sauciness. Her fiery nature. She was a girl destroyed.

Almost.

I hoped I still had time to save her.

“Come on, they’re waiting for us,” I said, tugging on her hand.

Two steps…and all hell broke loose.

Two shots blasted into the air from a gun. Before I could reach my hand to cover her mouth, Louisa screamed. It ripped from her as if it carried her very soul with it. I jerked my sister around by the hand and ran, pulling her along with me. I pushed my legs as fast as they would go, but she flailed and stumbled behind me.

I yanked harder against her. I didn’t know where we were running to; I just knew it was time to run. These woods had already taught me that. The leaves behind us crumpled and called out to us, alerting us that someone, or something, was close behind.

Louisa begged for me to stop, but I shut out her pleas. If we stopped, we would die. She hadn’t lived inside the woods, hadn’t been outside of council protection, so she didn’t know what was possible.

An image blurred past me on the left as a man bolted ahead of us, placing himself directly in my path. I attempted to skid to a stop before running right into him. Falling forward with my sister in tow, I collided with him, and the man caught me in his arms before Louisa and I fell to the ground. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to battle for my sister. When I managed to look up, I came face-to-face with Robert.

“What is it? I heard shots,” I panted, my legs trembling so hard that my entire body shook.

Robert cupped my face with his hands. “It was your father. He shot into the air. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

I sucked in air through my nose, gulping it down, forcing it in. “What do you mean it was my father? Why would he do that? Is he crazy?”

Before Robert could answer, Louisa slumped to the floor. She was no longer screaming or crying—she just sat on the ground staring forward, her eyes wide. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly as she rocked back and forth.

I crouched down so my eyes were level with hers. “Shhh, Robert said we’re safe. Breathe. Just breathe.” I tucked a hair behind her ear.

But she didn’t reply. Didn’t blink. Her shaking hands moved to her stomach, and she rocked with greater force. Her head began to rock slowly back and forth, and her lips moved, whispering something furiously over and over. I leaned closer so I could hear what she was saying. “I believe in the council. The council will protect me. Protect me from my enemies. Protect me from myself.”

The words my mother had taught her years ago.

Louisa was still a believer.

“What the hell was he thinking?” I growled, looking up at Robert.

“I think it’s better if you see it,” he replied. He reached down and scooped his sister-in-law into his arms.

As I followed behind Robert, Louisa wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head against his shoulder.

“You both okay?” Henry asked, jogging toward us.

“No, we are—”

“Everyone and everything is just fine,” Robert cut me off. He looked back at me, warning that now was not the time. He then proceeded to move a little quicker, creating space between Henry and my sister and me.

As soon as Louisa was out of earshot, I turned to Henry. “No, we are not okay. What was he thinking? Did he feel like he needed to remind us who was in charge? He nearly scared Louisa to death.”

Henry shook his head and clenched his jaw. “He did it to call them.”

“Call who?” I asked, looking at his face, seeing it pulled tight with worry.

“Them. His people.” Henry pointed ahead of me.

I followed his finger to find a ragtag group assembled behind my father. They were dressed in clothes not much better than those worn by the Isolationists in the community, but they sure were dirtier. It had been a long time since these people had been out of the woods. Men and women of various ages, guns held tightly, looking to my father as he spoke. Their bodies held straight with attention like they were an army listening to a commander.

It just so happened their commander was my father.

This was the resistance.

Lockwood walked over to us. “Your father is getting creepier by the day,” he whispered.

“I’m assuming the package is still secure?” my father asked a man not much younger than himself. He was a beanpole of a guy, standing a good foot above my father. But the way he bowed his head and slumped his shoulders, not in some show of disrespect but more as a reaction to my father’s show of dominance, it became clear who was in charge.

“Yes, sir. Safe and secure,” he answered.

“Good. Take yourself and two others and make sure it stays that way. Without it, we have nothing.”