Chapter 22: Loyalty and Honor

Matthew Fairchild winced at the bright light that assaulted his vision. He blinked, an undeniable smile gracing his lips as he glanced back toward his companions. “We-we made it.”

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at the child’s enthusiasm. “Well, not quite yet. We still gotta put some distance between us and this place before you can say that.”

Kurt frowned as he watched Vincent and Alice traverse the last stretch of the cliff, skidding to a stop a few feet away from him.

The blonde wasn’t looking so well.

“Making it, Alice?”

The lieutenant gave a soft hum of acknowledgment as she shuffled forward, her legs feeling as if they were weighted down by lead. It was no good. She was only slowing them down at this rate. She resisted the urge to grimace at the sticky wetness coating her side.

Stopping beneath a tree, the blonde released her companion’s hand as she leaned back against it and sat down. She tilted her head toward the sky. Sweet, beautiful sky. She had honestly feared she would never see it again. She closed her eyes. If she was going to die, at least it wouldn’t be within the walls of that vile place. She had beaten it.

“Alice?”

The blonde didn’t need her eyesight to recognize that sweet voice, the light inflection unmistakable to her ears. Oh, if only she had more time. Time to say all the things that weighed upon her heart. She wasn’t certain why, after all these years, God had chosen to send him back to her. However, she was grateful for the miracle, nonetheless. Perhaps it was so that she would have these last few moments to cherish.

I…I don’t want to go.

The sudden thought gripped the teen’s heart in a cold vice. Her eyes snapped open as she stole a glance at the questioning eyes aimed in her direction. She couldn’t be selfish. She had to send them ahead. If there was any hope for their continued survival, she would have to let them go. Let HIM go.

Beginning to feel lightheaded, the blonde closed her eyes once more. “You guys…need to go on without me. I’ll only slow you down, and you can’t afford that.”

“What?!” Vincent shouted, appalled. The girl couldn’t be serious! Leave the love of his life behind? He’d rather die!

“The hell we will!” Kurt retorted.

Alice forced her eyes open, gently placing a hand on Vincent’s shoulder as he knelt in front of her. “Th-tha-that’s an order, soldier.”

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse those orders, Lieutenant,” Vincent returned, grasping her hand. Even in her fragile state, her soft hands were filled with such warmth. Warmth he was desperate to hold onto.

“And I’m not one of your soldiers, so you can forget it,” Kurt spoke as he made his way over to them.

Any retort the lieutenant may have given left with the blurring of her vision. Vincent’s concerned expression faded into a crimson hue. He seemed so sad. The sight of it ached her heart, seeing him look so distressed. Yet no purpose lied within lamentation. With the way she felt, she imagined the entire group would collectively share his sorrow before much longer.

The sensation reminded the woman of bathing. Her mind swam deep into the warmth, and the world around her submerged itself with the plunge.

“Alice,” begged Vincent. “Please… You-you can’t… Not like this.”

Visible worry emerged on Kurt’s face. He knelt next to the blonde, his composure diminishing with the panic-stricken tone of Vincent’s voice. He pressed his index and middle fingers against her throat.

She had a pulse. All they had in return was an opportunity.

His eyes darted to Vincent. He masked his disgust as the youth plead her name again.

“We need to treat her. Now is as good a time as any.”

Jack approached them, planting his palm onto the trunk of the tree. “We need to keep moving,” he said. His eyes narrowed at the young teen. “I’m not thrilled with how this has played out, but at least we’re alive. I can’t make any guarantees we’ll remain that way. Not if we linger here.”

Vincent lifted his foot and took a bounded step forward, placing himself within a few feet from the soldier. “No one is asking for guarantees. She gets treated.”

“With what?” Jack asked, visible frustration crossed his face. “We have no medicine, nothing on hand to clean her cuts,” he declared before he knelt next to Kurt. The soldier wrapped his fingers around the corner of the woman’s shirt. He lifted straight, revealing the gash that had formed on her side. In the center of it hung a lump of skin. The sides of it were splayed like hunks of sliced meat.

Vincent’s stomach turned at the sight. Kurt’s followed similar motions of queasiness as images of the butchery he witnessed inside the cold storage flashed a little too freshly within his mind.

“And how about this?” Jack inquired; his face twisted in rage with every word spoken. “Got a sewing kit to stitch that up?”

Vincent looked away from the soldier with a mocha-colored complexion. He didn’t find his answers neatly awaiting him on the horizon. All he saw was a sun that would inevitably set before too long. Dusk would be upon them, taking away the precious, little visibility they had. Visibility they remained in dire need of for their departure.

“She’s going to die,” Jack declared.

Vincent glared hot embers at their ally. Though, with his proclamations, it remained hard to continue to see him in that light. “I won’t allow it.”

“You’re assuming that’s your call, that this is a situation you can control. It’s not. All our hours come and go. Whether you like or not, her hour has come,” Jack said. His tone and expression softened upon realizing his words were doing more harm than good to his companion. “I’m sorry, Vincent. I don’t want this either, but it won’t be long. If you care for her, if you, yourself, want to survive, adhere to her wishes.”

The teen felt the hooks sink into him. Guilt tugged on those invisible blades, making the prospect of rejection difficult. He considered the offer, the explanation provided at least sounded logical.

Truth: Vincent had little use for such logic. Not because he was a contrarian. He didn’t regard himself a fool unless it were considered foolish to have loved in the first place. No, his rejection of his lieutenant’s order was born of selfishness. A part of himself lied there bleeding with her. He couldn’t help but wonder if the sun would shine brightly overhead anymore without her in his life.

He looked to Jack with renewed resolve. He refused to find out.

“She’s just going to have to wake up and yell at me. Sorry, but I can’t obey,” he said before he cradled Alice’s head onto his lap. “It’s because I care for her that I can’t accept such a stupid order.”

Kurt frowned at the display. Instead of voicing his displeasure, he kept his mind focused on solutions. There was a time and place for contending with Vincent. Fighting him when they advocated for the same outcome seemed a waste of precious time. Time that ticked away with every word spoken. With minutes now even appearing to be a fleeting commodity.

“We could use her hair in lieu of thread,” Kurt declared. Wasn’t the craziest thing he could try. It was fine and long enough to serve the function it would need to for stitching. “You sure you don’t have anything on hand?”

Jack narrowed his brow. He at least gave the question its due consideration.

“A paper clip, a safety pin? I’ll take anything, Jack. Come on.”

The soldier’s eyes widened as the solution clicked into place. He raised the hem of his pant leg. Attached to it was a safety pin.

Leo had shown Kurt something like that once with one of his pairs of dress pants. The commander claimed it worked wonders in quelling static build up. He imagined Jack kept it there for a similar purpose.

“Good, and do you have a knife?”

Much to the teen’s relief, the soldier unveiled a pocketknife from the right side of his pants.

And he said we didn’t have a sewing kit, Kurt thought with a triumphant smile. Little did that man know he was a portable cabinet for crafts, or at the very least a boon for impromptu medical care with a budget comprised of lint and, dare he say, miracles.

Matthew bit his lip, choosing that moment to grasp onto the shocked soldier’s hand. “Do-don’t worry,” he sniffed, quickly wiping his tears as he tried desperately to believe his own words. He had to be strong. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if he were to be considered weak. After all, weakness is what got you left behind…or killed. He shook his head before continuing in a much more confident voice. “She won’t die. She can’t.”

Jack’s brow furrowed as he glanced down at the child clinging desperately to his sleeve. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached over to pat the boy’s head with his other hand. “Well, I’m afraid no one is immortal, Matthew.”

“She is,” the boy immediately protested. “They call her Golden Phoenix, right? Phoenixes are immortal, so she can’t die.”

“Matthew-”

“She can’t die! She can’t!”

Kurt’s hands started to shake as he carefully gripped a strand of his sister’s hair. Here goes nothing. Selecting a single strand, he cut it away. Yes! The teen was unable to keep the smile from his face as he gazed at the clean cut with pride. No frays. This was going to work!

He took the safety pin in his left hand and undid the clasp to reveal a fine, pointed tip. With a twist, Kurt broke the clasp.

How he wished he had a proper needle and thread. He’d patched people up before; not like this, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

It’s just your sister’s life. No pressure, he thought. His eyes scanned his companions for any sign of encouragement. At least they looked as frightened as he did.

The teen aimed the point of the pin into proper positioning with the strand of hair he held, inserting it through the stripped flesh. He pinched the skin as he fed his makeshift thread and pin through her side.

Red stained the teen’s fingers as he began his work. Pin and thread jabbed in and looped out, closing gashed skin with every repetitive motion. For a neophyte, he felt the job didn’t look half bad for something improvised on such short notice. Even if the patching had been crudely done, the others couldn’t object; not unless they were privy to a clinic that awaited them in the wilderness staffed with a team of benevolent souls that wouldn’t report them. His efforts would have to be enough.

Pockets of crimson peeked out of the threaded side. The gash was sutured as well as they could manage with what little material they had on hand. Alice would be in pain. Excruciatingly so. It wouldn’t be solely from his amateur patchwork.

She had broken ribs. He was certain of that from the way she’d walked. Prior to fainting, when the woman was lucid and awake, a harsh reaction paraded on her face in naked display with every breath she dared to take. Every laborious breath.

There was little he could do for her. Time and a pack of ice would be the only things that could help with fractured ribs. They had precious, little time and no ice. No water, come to think of it.

Kurt raised his head. Concerned faces looked back at him. A hint of relief lurked among the multitude of expressions that met his eyes, though nothing resembling peace was found. Until they made it out of this mess, he didn’t expect any of them would.

The kitchen slave, Matthew, raised the back of his hand to Kurt’s face, wiping away the tears that had stained his cheeks. He accepted a hug from the boy, eager to cling onto anything that wouldn’t have him crumble into bits and pieces before everyone. In truth, he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying this whole time.

And they still had so much further to go.

****

If General Vladsco were pressed to describe the sight before him, he would’ve said a tornado ripped through the prison. Bodies were strewn about the courtyard. The soldiers had already begun to burn them.

The putrid stench was a familiar companion to him. It reminded the aged general of when Moscow fell so long ago. When the last, real civilization that had resisted the tyranny of religious fanatics crumbled in the wake of endless war. Russia, the most glorious nation in Europe, burned into the ashes of history as nothing more than another memory, a relic of better days.

He’d seen the damage done to his coliseum. The dome above the arena had been shattered. The shards of glass littering the floor glimmered underfoot like a million miniature stars beneath the light of the full moon.

His precious lions had been shot dead. One of the majestic creatures had been burned beyond all recognition. No doubt the work of Golden Phoenix.

Vladsco brought his handkerchief to his lip, wiping it. He remembered seeing a lion when he was a small child: Moskovsky Zoopark. The majestic beast he laid his unworthy eyes upon humbled him. With a mighty chest and a beautiful mane, he remembered trembling before it. Not out of fear. Out of anger. The impudence of man to cage such a powerful creature. Put it on display like some sort of perverse trophy. Such a predator deserved freedom.

He didn’t understand how things were back then, not with the same clarity he possessed now. Powerful creatures deserved preservation. Why relegate their existence to pictures and books? In a way, it was one of the only things he had managed to reclaim from the days of old.

The Order saw little point in zoos. Preservation was the last thing they thought of when hammering together their new world. The demise of the lions may have signaled the end of their species. Such a pitiful way to go, the general thought. He feared he was the only man alive that would truly mourn the significance of what happened underneath the very roof he once considered a sanctuary of sorts.

Sanctity’s a romantic notion. It never existed. Not with these charlatans.

One of his orderlies approached him. A bald man with black skin and a bushy mustache. He seemed hesitant to speak.

“How many?” the general asked, the rage in his tone concealed only by his need for cooperation. He wanted answers, not blood. There would be plenty of time to indulge such pleasures later.

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

The soldier must’ve been new. Most men remained aware Vladsco had never been one to tolerate false pretenses. Manners were a must, but truth mattered more to him.

The general acknowledged the corporal’s request.

“Forty-five of our men. Two hundred thirty-seven Unnaturals.”

Vladsco glared daggers into the man. The soldier must’ve expected that, given the way he flinched at the general’s expression.

Everything he’d worked so hard to achieve was crumbling around him. The old world he missed, the new one he'd adapted to in his desperation to survive: All of it was being stolen from him.

The population of the prison had been approximately seven hundred Touched, according to the last tally that had been calculated. Fort Brein housed eighty-seven soldiers. In his absence, he’d lost half of his men.

He should’ve shot Golden Phoenix on sight. His desire to preserve such a wonder had stayed his hand, and he was paying dearly for it. Normally, he could rationalize. Think through problems with poise. He didn’t have a clue what to do.

The capital was a lost cause. Though he relished the sight of the emperor being torn asunder by the infuriated mob, he’d burned his bridges there. He’d been reckless in his desire to see retribution. He even provided shelter to the one responsible. It wouldn’t take much in the way of detective work to figure out his role in Shiro’s demise.

Vladsco took a deep breath. Though his worries didn’t leave with the ensuing exhalation, it helped ease his mind. Right now, he needed to formulate a plan. He was still in control.

Take Charlotte, the emperor’s daughter: He guided the young woman’s anger to a more constructive use. She eliminated an obstacle for him. He ensured her safety, relocating the woman within the warm confines of a cabin in Rose Point. The town was comprised of good, Christian people; a merciful contrast to the unwashed hordes burning the capital.

If he could singlehandedly bring down the head of the state so easily, imagine what he could do to get out of this situation.

“Sir?” the soldier asked.

He regarded the man with a smile. “We have a lot of work to do. But first, you’ll do me a small courtesy.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Bring me the ones responsible for this fiasco.”

The man swallowed. “The prisoners involved are unaccounted for, Sir. We believe they escaped the prison.”

“Not them,” Vladsco clarified. “Though I do expect you to dispatch a party to go and kill them by any means necessary.”

He received a nod from the soldier; the man’s mind looked to be racing in several different directions.

“I want the ones who sanctioned this event without my authorization.”

The corporal signaled to a group of soldiers. The uniformed men dragged three people in their custody. Vladsco wasn’t surprised to see Cain among them. Simpering like a wounded animal. If he weren’t devoid of dignity, he would’ve suffered in silence. Any tears he shed were a waste to the memory of the fine people he allowed to perish on his watch.

All three men were forced onto their knees. The guards behind them trained their rifles on their captives, barrels pointed at the backs of their heads.

His eyes lingered to the animal handler; a heavyset fellow dressed in a garish shirt decorated in fauna. He looked prepared for vacation. “I suppose you’re out of a job, huh?”

“I can explain,” the man sputtered.

Vladsco gave the signal, two fingers swiftly raised before they fell. The soldier stationed behind him fired. The man fell to the floor, dead, with the fluids in his head going with him.

Footsteps clicked along the floor. The tip of the general’s boots directed themselves towards the second man; a solider by the name of Carter. Vladsco could smell his type a mile away: Nothing more than a useful idiot eager to please with empty praise. The type of shallowness befitting of a politician rather than a man decorated in uniform.

He gave the signal, and the man joined the animal handler in his vacation from living. Words needn’t be spared for such trash.

Cain looked up at him with a pleading look in his remaining eye. The other organ had been decimated. An open sore filled with blood rested in its place.

“They did this,” his son whimpered. “Vincent. Alice. They all-”

The general clutched the boy’s throat with a gloved hand. Curled fingers gagged his words. Vladsco brought his face down to the boy. He wouldn’t waste his breath. There was no point in asking him what he did. The destruction of the arena, the lost prisoners, the senseless carnage…it all spoke for itself in the end.

Blood vessels emerged in Cain’s other eye. Color left his face with the deprivation of oxygen.

When the general felt certain the boy lingered close enough to the edge, he unleashed his grip. Cain fell to his feet, greedily sucking in air. Air that was too good for the likes of him.

“I should pluck out your other eye and feed it to you.”

Cain remained preoccupied with sucking in air, writhing along the ground like a wounded dog.

“Where is Vincent, 010? Where is my Golden Phoenix?”

The boy looked up at him. Hatred shone prominently within his remaining eye. “They escaped, Father. Isn’t that obvious?”

Even now, in his desperate situation, he felt confident enough that Vladsco wouldn’t kill him. Here he lied on the ground before him, and he still couldn’t resist giving him lip.

The general closed his eyes. He’d lost almost everything; the only reminder of his past came in the form of this spiteful creature lying before him. How it would’ve pained Lydia to see the way her son turned out. The boy was his failing, one he couldn’t bear the reminder of anymore.

“You’ve had it easy up till now. Doing whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. All in the company of men that despise your very being.”

Cain looked away from him. Not that shame was going to stop the general. Not anymore.

“You’re no different than the ones you’ve tormented. Unnatural. Touched,” a smile pursed Vladsco’s lips. “Death here would be too good for you. You wouldn’t be humbled by it.”

The general looked over the railing, hiding his expression from his son. His forced countenance replaced with a frown. “You want to act like an animal, you get to live like one. Go follow the footsteps of the ones you tormented. Leave.”

“What are you-” Cain’s eyes widened with stark realization. The ice beneath him was melting and the fall had become inevitable.

“You will live the rest of your life in hiding,” the general coldly answered. “Struggling for food, darting in and out of towns like a mouse scurrying under shadows and holes. You’ll see just what it’s like having to live in fear like the people you’ve spent your days tormenting.”

Cain pleaded to him. “Pl-please. Don’t.”

“After you leave, I’ll ring in a bulletin letting every town in a hundred-mile radius know about you. They’ll hunt you down. As far as what they’ll do to you, I imagine your mind can form a more colorful picture than what I can describe.”

Another bit of blubbering came from the miserable form on the floor. “I’ll die.”

“Then die,” came the general’s cold response as his men picked the teen up. They carted his protesting son off, his cries falling on deaf ears.

He had nothing left to lose now.

****

Pain. Tremors shot through the girl’s side in spasms, the searing pain a stark contrast to the chill seeping into the edges of her limbs. The fog of slumber still heavily weighing in her mind, she only briefly considered why she would be cold.

Next, came the noises. So far away at first before gaining clarity. Voices?

Another tremor shot through her side, a feeling not all that different from what a paper would likely feel as it were being ripped in two.

She awakened; a scream, unbidden, escaped her lungs.

“Shh,” a soft voice to her immediate right cooed. A finger gently brushed her lips. “You’re safe now.”

If being safe entailed a stabbing pain tearing through her side, she shuddered to imagine what being in peril would resemble.

She faced the figure offering comfort. Golden eyes gleamed in the light of a nearby fire, its own presence announced by the crackling of sticks that the flames eagerly fed upon in their avarice.

Wait!

Several facts immediately became apparent. Evening had given way to night. They were stationed outside, vulnerable to the elements. Most importantly, smoke emanated from the fire, providing a trail that could lead their enemies straight to their location.

Alice jerked forward from her position. A ripping sensation tore through her side from the sudden momentum. The teen next to her looked at her in mute horror. She trembled as he placed his hands on her, pressing her body back onto the ground.

“H-hey, you can’t be doing that.”

“Vincent…the fire,” she said, struggling to make the utterance she did amid the ocean of tears welling within her eyes.

He placed his finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s alright. Jack is on watch right now. Nothing has happened.”

Yet, she thought.

“I…er…we had to keep you warm,” Vincent said with a reassuring smile. He ran a finger along the bridge of his nose, removing a clump of dirt that had taken occupancy there. “We can’t have you going into shock.”

Something shifted to the left of the fire. She recognized the troubled-looking figure’s sour expression immediately.

“Or breaking your stitches,” Kurt remarked. The boy’s frown deepened as he studied her. “Which I’ll wager you just did with that little maneuver.”

Stitches?

The woman’s eyes drifted to her jumpsuit. Tolerating the pain, she willed herself to lift the corner of the polyester shirt. Her eyes widened as they took notice of the source of her misery.

Kurt had been right, not that the technician needed to hear such affirmations. A segment of thread jutted out with parted skin dangling against it. The wound appeared vibrant in its redness. Fresh fluid leaked from the opening, much to the woman’s displeasure.

“Alice,” Vincent whispered.

Kurt brushed past the flabbergasted youth, uninterested in his concern. He reached into his pocket. The light of the fire revealed the handle to a penknife. With a flick of his finger onto the stud, the blade extended from its folded position. The boy took his other hand and clasped a strand of hair between his fingers before he cut it from her head.

At least now Alice knew the origins of the material used to suture her wound.

The boy grumbled as he fished deeply into his other pocket. A needle emerged in between his fingers. She did not care, let alone want, to know where he’d procured something like that during their exodus from the prison.

He began to work. Vincent held tightly onto her shoulders while Kurt jabbed the small pin around the disturbed flesh. The dam holding back her tears gave way from the pricks. A sharp jab, followed by the pull of skin. Another jab, this one far harsher in its thrust, with precision reduced to an afterthought in the motion.

Patching her up was a quick and dirty job, one her self-appointed doctor took no pleasure in carrying out when his only reward came in the form of her sobs.

God, why didn’t they let her die in the arms of sleep’s gentle embrace? Why didn’t they listen to her? Here she lied, quivering on the ground, reduced to nothing more than an emotional wreck. What use could she be to her companions when every breath she dared take resulted in molten hell rampaging deep inside her bones?

Vincent wiped her tears, whispering words of encouragement as he did so. They were the expected platitudes. It’ll be okay. I’ve got you. Hang in there. The encouragement all droned on the same to her. The only thing she could think of was the pain.

Her respite came only when Kurt drew the wound to a close with a final tug. He examined his handiwork with a frown pulling against the corners of his lips. Doubt crossed his features, a far cry from the admiration she’d hoped to see reflected in his stare. Then again, it took everything in her not to look at the crude stitchwork and toss aside her own disgust with the result.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

From the way she felt from the experience, an apology would’ve been preferable.

“Get her closer to the fire,” Kurt instructed Vincent. “Besides, I think you’ve had enough quality-time with her.”

Quality-time? Since when was huddling against an unconscious person’s form considered such a thing? She couldn’t make sense of it. Especially considering the subject of the embrace, namely herself, had one foot firmly planted in a grave.

“She needs the company,” Vincent said. The finality in the young man’s tone made it clear he held no interest in debating the matter.

Kurt’s face twisted in disgust, like he’d chomped down on a lemon. “Do I need to spell it out for you, Vincent? Get. Off. My. Sister.”

Amber eyes smoldered with irritation.

Alice shared the teen’s frustration. Kurt made the situation sound like Vincent had mounted himself on her, humping her brains out, based on his word choice. If it weren’t for the pain that would have followed, she might’ve considered laughing at the absurdity of the scenario.

Kurt’s eyes flashed to the knife he held. The wheels in his head began to turn when he brought his gaze to Vincent. Something malevolent flashed there. Something unsettling.

Vincent gently rested Alice’s head on the ground before he stood. He stormed over to the shorter youth, smacking the weapon out of his hand. He whispered something to him, words too faint to register for Alice’s ears. She didn’t care what sentiments he shared. This whole mess had escalated in the worst way.

Before she could negotiate a solution, a voice spoke from the distance.

“What is going on here?”

She shifted her position, much to the protest of her ribs. Alice caught sight of the man that had betrayed his own faction to save them, his face rife with concern. His interests had previously been focused on outside threats. The greatest danger to the group, however, seemed to reside within.

Kurt muttered under his breath, much to the soldier’s chagrin.

“I’ve risked everything for you people,” Jack said, making no effort to conceal his outrage. His expression darkened with each step toward them. “I can’t go back.”

“You don’t understand,” said Kurt in desperation.

“I understand, if I go back, they’ll kill me. And I didn’t throw away my future to have you turn on each other. You people are jeopardizing the minuscule chance I have left.“

“It’s not like that.”

He struck the teen across the face, sending him to the ground. Kurt looked up at him in a stupor, disbelieving of the fact the man had laid hands on him.

“Bull-fuckin’-shit. You were pointing a knife at your own ally. God only knows what would’ve happened if I hadn’t come back when I did.”

Kurt lowered his head to the ground. The truth behind his words beat him down harder than any physical blow he’d received.

Jack turned to Alice with an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry. What I said wasn’t Christianly.”

“But it’s true,” she said as she trained her cold stare on her companion. “We already have people hunting us. From the way things are going here, we’re going to beat them to that whole killing bit.”

“Alice-”

“Don’t you ‘Alice’ me, Kurt. You’re out of control.”

Kurt glanced at the group. Matthew had long since awakened from his slumber, huddled by the fire as he looked at the teen with revulsion. Shame averted his gaze away from the rest of the group.

Jack sat next to Alice, resting the end of his rifle on the ground. “You’re in bad shape.”

Truer words never spoken, the lieutenant thought.

His forehead creased as he looked upon her with a pitiful countenance. “With as much blood as you’ve lost, you very well could go into shock at any moment. We run into any trouble, it’s curtains for you.”

“I know that.”

Jack’s eyes darted to Vincent. His face softened. “Continue to keep her warm. I normally wouldn’t ask that of you, given you’ve held her all day, but something tells me you’re precisely where you wish to be,” he said. He brushed a hand through his hair before he regarded the lieutenant with a kind smile. “With her.”

Alice felt her heart skip a beat well before the boy caressed her head back onto his shoulder. Fortunately for her, he was unable to see her face do an impression of a tomato. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

For a moment, the serenity that came in tandem with the silence made her almost forget her pain. The scent of earth-kissed skin reached her nose.

She didn’t want to sleep, but she found the temptation too inviting to resist as dreams took hold of her. Her heart slowed, and it wasn’t long before she fell unconscious once more in the tender arms of her subordinate. Her Vincent.

****

Wakefulness came warmly, almost overwhelmingly so, as the sweet melody of chirping birds greeted the young woman’s ears.

So warm…

Sapphire eyes fluttered open. Despite the dull ache in her side, the blonde couldn’t seem to keep the tranquil smile from her lips as she beheld the peacefully slumbering face mere inches from her own.

Wait, what?!

The girl felt her heart leap into her throat as she turned her head, stealing a glance around their camp.

So far, it seemed that she was the only one to have awakened. Matthew rested a few feet away, curled into a ball next to what remained of their fire.

She turned back to stare into the boyish face. His breath, in cooperation with her own sense of embarrassment, heated her cheeks. Full lips sat pursed together. His facial structure narrow and complemented with a prominent jaw. He could’ve pursued a career as a male model if he’d really wanted to do so. Yet he’d been more interested in pursuing her.

Sapphire eyes drifted to his lips. That first taste had been so brief, but oh, how the softness had overwhelmed her.

Her heart pounded. She glanced back to the slumbering crowd. Reassured that life would not stir into their eyes, she decided to do something admittedly selfish.

Alice took her thumb and brushed it across his cheekbone. Inches, difficult as they were to conquer, found themselves traversed as she made her move towards the male. Her eyes began to narrow, preparing to close them in anticipation of the stolen kiss she planned to seize with a robber’s delight.

Amber eyes fluttered to life. A sound squeaked in her throat as she froze into place. She was fortunate he hadn’t jerked his head forward, given the gash on her forehead. She would’ve found it preferable if he hadn’t been such a light sleeper.

“G-good morning, Alice,” he said in a voice that could have stripped her panties off her in its suave timidity. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

She simultaneously could and could not say the same thing about him. Instead, she nodded.

“A-are you, um…feeling alright?”

“I’m f-fine.”

“You look like you’re running a fever,” he said. He pressed a hand to her forehead, eyes observing her in keen interest. “Warm, that’s for sure.”

She definitely felt that way. Though to say the feeling emerged from any type of illness was inaccurate.

He cocked his head, running his finger along his face. Black residue stained the appendage, which only deepened the red she felt burning inside her cheeks.

Dear God.

She’d forgotten about her hands when she generated all that fire from the previous day. Now he had the evidence of her less-than-pure intentions smattered all over him.

Vincent eyeballed the smudge for but a scant moment. Bemusement crossed his fine features before he gave her a grin. The kind of subtle tug of the lips that said, “I know.”

One of the members of their party rolled over, the sudden sound banished the emergent smile previously affixed to the young man’s face. He raised to his feet, extending her a hand as a courtesy.

The agitation stinging Alice’s side demanded a slow rise. She obeyed at her body’s behest. The last thing she desired was to have her butcher of a brother start stabbing at her again in his efforts to mend the stitches.

Her leg trembled in the face of the slow speed she moved. She winced as she felt the appendage buckle beneath her.

Grass stains and ripped stitches did not await her. Instead, her descent transformed into an ascent as the world around her flipped. She found herself perched in the arms of her cadet. He looked upon her startled form with a coy smile.

“I’m starting to think you like being held by me.”

She bit the corner of her lip as the others stirred to life. Matthew awakened first, wiping the crud from his eyes before he found himself cocking his head in confusion, no doubt the result of seeing the lieutenant being carried in such a manner.

“You…you shouldn’t talk that way about your commanding officer.”

The smile widened on the youth’s features, betraying his thoughts to the contrary.

“We-well, say something. That’s an order from your commanding officer,” she said in a desperate bid to muster anything resembling authority. She sounded more like a nervous schoolgirl with a weak pair of knees and crossed legs instead of projecting the clout of a superior.

“I don’t know. I have concerns, Alice.”

She felt more squeamish. He deliberately took his time getting out his words.

“Wh-what concerns?”

“Well, what is a cadet to do when he catches his commanding officer caressing his cheek? Seem a little…” he trailed off with a devil’s smile, teasing forbidden knowledge. “…well, scandalous, if I must say so, myself.”

Jack woke up, gawking at the pair. If he carried suspicions of something going on between them, this sight only confirmed them.

“I didn’t say I had a problem with it,” Vincent continued, echoing her words in the tunnel back to her.

Alice’s heart thundered. Dangerous talk carelessly spoken threatened to make it shoot out of her chest cavity like a bullet.

“P-put me down this instant.”

He let out a cheery laugh before he gently placed her feet back onto the earth. She’d clearly created a monster; one that delighted in teasing her in all the right ways.

One that made her feel things she’d long since discarded.

No. Get ahold of yourself. You know how it’s going to end.

No matter how many times her brain echoed the thought, her racing heart refused to listen. Placing a hand briefly to her chest, she closed her eyes. Even now, she could feel its raptured melody.

Ba-bump! Ba-thump!

The blonde swallowed, attempting to collect the remainder of her nerves that hadn’t pooled into jelly at the amber-eyed angel’s feet.

Matthew beamed as he bounded over to grasp the girl by the hand. “Morning, Miss Phoenix.”

Alice couldn’t help but smile. The poor boy. She had probably given him quite the scare yesterday. Truth be told, she didn’t want to even remotely consider how many times the child had stared death in the face during his short life.

Jack was next to approach the pair, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as a knowing grin tugged at his lips. “You, uh, seem to be in rare form this morning. Glad to see you up and about.”

“Yeah, well, I think our energies are best directed toward getting us the hell outta here,” a third voice spoke, drawing the group’s attention to the dark-haired teen sitting just on the edge of their camp.

Kurt focused his gaze upon his sister. I know. I saw, his eyes said in their stern judgment.

Once again, the blonde felt her heart leap into her throat as she stared elsewhere, not eager to provoke another fight with her brother. She already knew he’d be filing the sight of her being held by Vincent away for further reference under the label: ‘Things to Loiter Over Your Sister.’ Or one entitled: ‘Even More Reasons to Hate Vincent.’

“Well,” Jack began, an apology weighing in his tone as he brushed a hand through his hair again, “I’m afraid he does have a point. The longer we linger here…”

The soldier didn’t need to finish his sentence. They had several months’ worth of material they’d lived through to imagine how sticking around ended. A few bullets to the head, and that’d be if the party hunting them felt any inclination towards mercy.

Alice’s stomach grumbled in discontent. She could practically hear Cain yelling dinner time, his sneer echoing inside her head. He hadn’t provided them a last meal. Shame too. Hunger made it hard to think when it made itself known. She hoped that was the underlying reason for her sibling’s crazed behavior from the other night. Yet a part of her doubted that food would improve his disposition. Not when fantasies of murder manifested so easily from the young man’s darkest desires.

They began to move. As they did so, one trudging step at a time, she thought back to her training. Price called it feed-training.

The game was simple. When he found himself to be in one of his moods, and such discoveries came easily, he’d sometimes pick out a handful of cadets. They’d all be dragged off to one of the holding cells in the basement of their operations center. There, they’d be deprived of food for about a day, provided a meager ration to tide them over. A single day turned into two more. No meal came until the third day. It’d be a single ration meant to be shared among them.

Starvation did terrible things to people. Captive soldiers would bleed each other to have a scrap of food. That was the goal of the psychotic game: Who was willing to do whatever it takes to survive? She’d been a participant, herself, a time or two. Nearly got killed in the process for her troubles. Same could be said for the men she’d burned that took a swing at her for snatching the ration.

You going to sit there and starve? Fine. You’ll get no pity from me.

She could hear her deceased superior harp at her from even beyond the grave. For all his imagined bellowing, a day amounted to nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s when a day turned into two. Then three. That’s when people truly lost themselves. That’s when the real problems would arise.

****

Don’t make me kill you.

Kurt Landon shot nervous glances toward the brunette male clinging to his sister. The same one that lifted her into his arms earlier that morning. On the surface, it seemed innocent enough.

Digging uncovered a message, one intended for Kurt. One that conveyed the man could do whatever he wanted. Even threaten him.

Don’t make me kill you.

Those words weren’t lightly spoken. They unnerved him, shook him to his very core.

True, it wasn’t the first time he’d ever heard them. Many threats of a similar nature were made, usually punctuated by physical blows, during his stay in the prison. They were often shouted with a hateful cadence.

Not Vincent. His inflection was different. No anger lied in his words. The tone itself sounded mournful, like Vincent was resigning himself to the idea of murdering him. He was cutting his losses. And from the cold stare he gave that chilled Kurt to the bone, it was clear he considered him one of those losses.

Kurt wasn’t entirely certain what came over him. He knew he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered thrusting the blade into the soft-spoken brunette, twisting the knife inside of him, and unveiling every dark secret. Every vile thing that made the boy’s heart tick.

Still, it’s not like he would’ve done it. Would he?

Kurt frowned. Of course, he would have. He didn’t recall offering much of an objection when presented with the opportunity to poison the son of a bitch. Except he couldn’t even do that right.

He looked in Alice’s direction, averting his eyes when the woman began to take notice. Why was he worried about Vincent being a harm to her when he’d come the closest to killing her himself? In a way, he may yet succeed, given the way she still coughed so harshly. At least he saw no blood from it this morning, for what little difference that fact made to his conscience.

His eyes moved back over to the boy who’d threatened him. Specifically, they followed his hands. Hands clasped onto his sister’s.

It bothered him how the poor girl never learned from her mistakes. He recalled a not-too-distant time when another man had acted that way around her. He’d brought her joy, happiness…devastation.

History was poised to repeat itself, and he couldn’t bear to watch her reduced to such a state again.

“Do you really got to hold hands with him?”

Everyone looked at him. Kurt shared their apprehension, though his centered around how his statement came out so easily, especially after the unpleasant event from the prior night.

“You sound like a jealous lover,” Alice muttered, shaking her head in disgust.

She and Vincent paused, taking a glance at each other. Both blushed at her words, having realized they, themselves, bore an uncanny resemblance to a couple.

“L-look, you don’t want her stitches to come undone. Nobody wants that. I’m just, uh…”

“Providing support,” Alice swiftly chimed in, preferring to steer the conversation away from unwanted comparisons that threatened to arise.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at the pair, eventually gravitating the intensity of his gaze toward his sister. “Like Julius did?”

“Shut your hole, Kurt,” the blonde retorted.

How could he when she seemed to find difficulty in keeping the one between her legs shut? Maybe the assault she experienced in the prison had loosened her in some ways. He wouldn’t voice such a disgusting musing, but she seemed too eager to throw herself into the arms of the one person on earth that conveniently happened to be related to the man who’d had his way with her.

“Forgive me, but I can’t help but notice all the similarities.”

“Is this Julius fellow going to provide us shelter?” Jack asked. He rested his arm against the trunk of a nearby tree. “Serve us a warm meal?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, he is-”

“Then I don’t really care to hear about him,” the soldier interrupted. “The only thing I want to hear from you is if you notice something.”

The boy started to speak when the soldier cut him off a second time.

“Something not involving those two. I don’t know what your problem is, but you better get over it and fast. Doing this right here,” he said, making a back-and-forth motion with his fingers, “is going to get us killed. Understood?”

Kurt muttered a yes.

Jack shrugged. He’d take any affirmation, no matter how begrudgingly offered, over nothing. “Then let’s keep moving.”

“In a minute,” Alice said. She looked to the group, offering them all a sheepish smile.

The soldier started to make an inquiry but refrained. No one refused the call of nature.

Kurt frowned. His thoughts lingered on having to wipe his rear with a large piece of vegetation. Jack had to stop him from unknowingly inserting poison ivy into his crack two hours earlier.

Alice vanished into the woods, foliage and trees obscuring her from the others. At least she would likely be more alert to such distinctions concerning which plants could serve as a viable substitute to toilet paper.

When Kurt ceased examining her retreating figure, he found himself taking a step back from a disapproving pair of amber eyes, their owner standing a few paces away from him.

“What?” he asked him, his voice betraying any semblance of bravery.

Vincent stared him down. The icy gaze lasted a few seconds longer before he shook his head and walked away.

Creep, Kurt thought. What was with that look?

Don’t make me kill you.

A knot tied in Kurt’s stomach as the threat echoed in his head once more. Maybe he considered carrying out his offer, now that Alice had separated herself from her companions. Kurt wanted to say he was all hot air, especially when being supervised by the others. Yet something lingered in the teen’s eyes that made him unsure of his own safety.

“What are we going to do about food?” Matthew asked. He tugged on Jack’s sleeve with his plea. “I’m hungry.”

Kurt shared the boy’s discontent, his own gut rumbled in want of a meal. Meat in a can, reprehensible as such a concoction was, would’ve been deeply appreciated.

His stomach suddenly threatened to churn at the thought of any kind of mystery meat. He could taste the bile already rising in his throat, leaving an acrid taste burning inside his mouth.

“We’re working on it, little man,” Jack said in a reassuring tone. “Stay strong.”

The kid nodded with enthusiasm.

Unlike the young boy, Kurt couldn’t say he held much in the way of an appetite. Not when dead eyes stared back at him miles away from within that freezer.

****

Jack sighed as he stopped at the base of a large pine tree, glancing back at his group of companions. As much as he loathed to admit it, the blonde was slowing them down considerably. At the rate they were going, there was no way they were going to make it to Segan by nightfall.

They had recently switched off the main path to opt for the denser route hidden away in the tree line to keep out of sight of the search drones that had begun to fly overhead since first light.

When the buzz of the machine traversed a greater distance, reduced to a faint hum whispering in the wind, the group dared to breathe an uneasy sigh of relief.

The afternoon remained unsympathetic to their plight, burning bright in its indifference to their journey. Pools of sweat dripped from the soldier’s forehead. He ran his handkerchief above his eyebrows, the perspiration from the heat soaked the bangs of his sandy-brown hair.

“Water,” he murmured.

The group watched him expectantly, as though he were getting ready to tell them the location of a reservoir he’d spied out of the corner of his eye. Instead, he regarded them with remorse, which only served to deflate their already delicate spirits.

“Do you know this area at all?” Kurt asked.

Jack didn’t mind the question. It was one of the only things the boy had said that had been neither pessimistic nor antagonistic. It was a genuine inquiry. And the moment he did nod his head, the youth’s eyes lit up, clinging on to whatever shred of hope they could muster.

“I don’t claim to know it intimately.”

Alice sighed with a sharp intake of breath. The resulting cough came and went. After a moment, the harsh sound subsided, and the woman had once again composed herself.

Kurt looked in her direction, the worry on his face expanding by the second. He turned back to Jack. Perspiration led a slug’s trail down his cheek as he spoke with desperation in his voice. “Do you at least know where we’re going?”

Up a shit-filled creek, he thought. And from the way he felt, Jack had suspicions they lost the proverbial paddle a mile back in the muck.

Thinking it wise not to tell the group such a negative thing, he instead told them he didn’t know. “There might be a place on ahead. I just don’t know how much further.”

“We’re lost,” Kurt declared.

Jack glared back at the teen. “I did not say that.”

“There might be a place on ahead,” Kurt mimicked. His eyes narrowed with each word. “You even said you didn’t know how much further. Not exactly inspiring confidence here.”

“You lead, then,” Jack countered. “Since you know more than I apparently do.”

The boy lowered his head. He moved it repeatedly to the left and right.

“Tell us about the place,” Alice asked. “Is Segan nice?”

Jack wiped his lip with his forefinger before he nodded his head. “Parts of it are. We’ll have a better chance there than out here. Though I…” the sergeant scratched his chin, trying to delicately broach the topic most closely related to his concerns. “…I think we need to pick up the pace.”

“Sure. Let me just pluck these damaged ribs out of my body, and I’ll be raring to go,” Alice said, attempting to evoke a laugh. They were all too weary to do so with their spirits beaten down by hunger, thirst, and oppressive weather.

The sergeant looked at her sympathetically, his eyes darting to Vincent. He imagined he’d be the first to object to anything that suggested abandoning her. Still, if they did not move any faster, broken hearts wouldn’t compare to stilled ones succumbing to the elements.

“I know I’m asking a lot here,” Jack began. “And believe me, I feel low even saying this, but if someone could lift you, we might be able to cover more ground.”

Alice hacked again, aiming into the crook of her arm. The discontent reflected on her face from the mere act of coughing emphasized how an extended period of being carried wouldn’t be a promising prospect.

“Yeah, a trip into lover boy’s arms over there,” said the less-than-thrilled technician.

The lieutenant attempted to hide the irritable countenance emerging on her face. Any resistance to such an endeavor ultimately proved to be for naught, her scowl deepening the longer she observed him. “You offering to carry me?”

Again, the prospect of responsibility repelled the young man’s eyes elsewhere into the forest. Trees demanded nothing of him, and the wildlife offered no rebuttal to his pointed comments.

Whatever keeps him quiet, Jack thought with the roll of his eyes.

Vincent lifted the girl onto his back. She grunted from the sudden ascent. He mouthed an apology to her before he looked at Jack.

“Why are you doing this?”

For a second, Jack thought he was talking about the request to have her carried.

Vincent continued, clarifying his question. “The warden gave you a lot of power. Don’t think for one moment none of us saw that.”

“I don’t-”

“Why?”

Was there a more powerful word in the English language? Why? Jack ran his handkerchief across his head again, the cloth in his hand now began to feel like a wet napkin with the most recent rub.

“Why us, Jack? Why’d you throw it all away for the likes of us?”

“Because it was the right thing to do!” the sergeant responded. He wadded the handkerchief into his coat pocket. “Because maybe I couldn’t live with myself, seeing the monsters we’d all become. Dismissing every ugly thing we did under the excuse we were doing God’s work. I couldn’t live that way. Not anymore.”

Vincent and Alice both looked at him with a soft expression, whereas Kurt’s conveyed the opposite conclusion.

“That sounds so convenient,” he said. “A crisis of conscience.”

“Once I started seeing you as people, yes. Yes, it was.”

“And it took you so long-”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“It took you so long to do the right thing. To say enough was enough. Why? Why now did you decide to see us as people?”

Jack trembled. He approached Kurt, shoving the scrawnier boy into the trunk of a tree. “I looked in a mirror, and I didn’t like what I saw. I know you don’t trust me. Hell, I really doubt you trust anyone.”

“That’s…” Kurt lowered his head.

“Everyone lives trying to achieve impossible ideals. Be a good person. Be faithful. Do the right thing. It all sounds so easy. So straightforward.”

“It is.”

Jack paused in his rant. He turned to face Alice with a look mired in confusion. He stepped away from Kurt and approached her and Vincent.

“Easy, is it? Let me tell you something about duty. I served my nation with loyalty and honor. All in the name of cleansing my soul,” he said. He closed his eyes, trembling at the words coming from his lips. “I’ve never felt closer to hell. Not the lake of fire the Bible speaks of; this one was manmade, Alice. Constructed by hands that delighted in the elimination of human beings. All because they were different.”

Alice shook her head. “Same as it ever was. Humankind has always had that nasty habit. Killing, that is. Race, sexuality, religion…pick a category. People need little reason to oppress others. In the name of God, in the name of government, it all amounts to the same thing in the end. Opportunity. Humans have always been insecure creatures.”

“I agree, but I don’t see how that proves it easy to live to impossible standards, Alice.”

“Do you know what Hell is, Jack?”

The sergeant concentrated. From what he could see, they’d just fled it.

When he didn’t vocalize a response, she answered for him. “It’s the absence of God. Skeptics, like Kurt over there, like to drone on about the absence of a creator. Shake their head at the possibility of a heaven. Yet they have little to say when Hell manifests before us.” Alice looked to her companion, a bitter smile crossing her features. “The existence of one begs the existence of the other.”

Kurt muttered under his breath, a behavior he’d grown accustomed to as of late.

“Inhumanity is Hell. And why should the opposite be so much harder to attain? Are we humans really so ugly? Kind words. Compassion. Taking a chance on others. Why should that be hard? Because you fear what other people will say?”

The sergeant didn’t have a response to her musings. All he had was a pair of aching feet, and a thirst that left him hanging on by a thread; it was the price to pay for discarded loyalty and honor.

The group fell into silence as they resumed their journey onto the forest trail, trudging slowly into the unknown.