I raised the knife and prepared to plunge it into Svetty's chest, my fingers gripping the handle.

”No!”

His scream did little to faze me. The burning sensation intensified in my arm, curling and wrapping around my shoulder. Shifting my gaze forward, I noticed Mr. Karin stumbling towards me. Blood seeped out from under my sleeve and dripped down my shaking hand. Svetty's panicked whimpers were more muffled, far away. With a weak grunt, Mr. Karin dropped to his knees on the carpet, breathing heavily. His palm pressed against the side of the crib.

"No," he breathlessly repeated. "Please."

I gestured at the crowbar and the gun lying on the floor with my elbow. “Hand them to me.”

Mr. Karin hesitated, glancing at Svetty.

"I said, hand them over."

He winced in pain, but managed to toss both items across towards where we both stood. With my left bare foot, I kicked them behind me. As he struggled to stand, he held his palm out to me, his blue eyes scanning me up and down. Svetty remained very still. Her eyes were halfway open.

“Alright,” Mr. Karin shakily said. “You’ve…you’ve got what you wanted. Now let her go.”

When I positioned the tip of the blade against Svetty's neck, he seemed to hold his breath.

"Please. Don't do this."

"You release the boy to me," I whispered.

He faintly nodded. “I give you my word.”

"Then I have nothing to say to you."

Mr. Karin was struggling to breathe for air. He weakly nodded, appearing too worn out to glance towards Svetty's direction. Without looking her in the face, I roughly shoved her away to the ground. She released a heavy gasp and collapsed sideways on her stomach, sobbing heavily, crawling on her hands and knees in a feeble attempt to get away from me. One of her shoes had come off. I did not look at her. Mr. Karin continued to remain hunched over, staring at me.

I placed the knife under my waistband. When my right hand wrapped around the handgun, I reloaded it, the clicking sound filling the air. As Mr. Karin slowly looked up at me, his wet face filled with despair, my index finger settled around the trigger, like a snake burying itself in its nest. For a moment, we stared at each other. His mouth was trapped open in a silent howl, one that could not be heard by the wind. My chest was hot.

"May Plod live forever," I slowly said.

The blast went off, but I barely heard it. His brains and skull fragments splattered across the wall, landing on the moon shaped clock. A dark puddle of blood rapidly spread across the carpet, where his lifeless form landed with a thud. His blue eyes stared towards the ceiling, and the golden bullet shell rolled next to his outstretched palm. Svetty's strangled screams filled the air as she cowered in the corner behind the rocking chair. Her uncontrollable shrieks did not reach my ears--they sounded very quiet, very faint, like the wind.

I let the smoking, empty gun slip out of my hand and land on the mostly red carpet. As my shadow gradually approached the crib, the little boy was rubbing his wet eyes; his nose bright red. He was sniffling and shivering a great deal, but he tilted his head to look up at me with his good eye, his clouded one unfocused. Slowly, with both hands, I scooped him up in the crook of my arm. He smelled like baby shampoo and vanilla, and his little fingertips gripped onto the wrinkles of my bloody, torn uniform jacket. Having never held a child before, I was astonished how small he was--his thick curly hair reminding me of his mother. An overwhelming sensation came over me.

Yanking the star printed blanket off the crib, I wrapped it around him, sort of like a cocoon, to keep him warm and shield his face from the corpse that laid in the middle of the room. I snatched the backpack filled with clothing and diapers, slinging it across my back. Svetty remained in the corner, and she released a high pitched scream once she saw me briefly pause to look at her. I no longer needed to be in the same room as her, let alone breathe the same air.

I threw the crowbar against the wall. It landed on the ground with a loud clatter.

The woman flinched and tightly hugged herself. Slowly, she raised her head out of her hands, her face covered in tears. Stepping over Mr. Karin, I made my way to the bedroom door, my throat tightening, preparing myself for whoever awaited me outside. Adjusting the boy in my left arm, I gripped the railing with my bloody right hand. Svetty’s faint sobs echoed in the house, the walls.

I released a shaky breath. Silently, I made my down the dark steps, listening them creak and shift under my weight. My son's heartbeats were steady against my own. Once the warm air and the smell of gasoline hit my face, did I finally glance down at the star printed blanket. He had fallen asleep---worn out from crying---his eyes closed, the side of his face against my chest. After tucking the material more securely around his bare legs and feet to keep him warm, did I duck and take off running behind the house, away from the sound of machine gun fire and tanks rolling.

* * * * * * *

My face was coated in sweat, and my blood crusted jacket was glued to my skin. Every step I took sent a shooting pain to my abdomen, where the majority of my bleeding was coming from. Several times, once I reached the woods, I had to bend over and catch my breath, dizziness settling over vision. Leaning from branch to branch, I stumbled weakly through the dirt, holding on as tightly to the little guy as possible. My arms ached and burned, but not once did he awaken from his slumber. My lungs screamed for air, and an indescribable thirst rested on my tongue.

It seemed like years before the scent of salt water burned my nostrils and the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky. Seagulls cried out in the air. The familiar shape of tents and huts met my eye, and as I descended down the slope of a beach, trying to balance myself, a couple of terrified children playing on the shoreline screamed and took off running. It only dawned on me that I was wearing the Red Mamba uniform, and as a few men took of rushing towards me with their rifles aimed and pointed at my head, I managed to shout out in the sticky, dense air.

"No, please, no! Don't shoot! It's me!"

My left foot caught against a rock, and I collapsed to my knees, managing to hold on tightly to him. I began waving my right arm frantically back and forth, while gently bouncing him in my left. It didn't take long before William and a few other men appeared over the distance, followed by Rufus. Struggling to stand up in the sand, I started to make my way over to them. The boy began to stir, his sleepy eyes peeking out to me from the blanket.

”Hey, little guy,” I whispered to him.

He rested his head against my chest.

The ocean crashed against the rocks as I stated to clamber over the rocks, fighting the aching pain in my arms and legs. Blood dripped down, staining my pant leg and the dried grass. When I finally reached the top, Rufus, including the others, had their weapons out, but lowered them once I appeared over the top. The sky had begun to turn pink and orange, and, with my legs giving out, I sank to my knees, breathing heavily, and supporting my grip on the boy. With what remaining strength in my arms, I began to bounce the child, holding on as tightly as I could to him, letting the motion lull him to sleep. I tried not to look at the fresh blood stains on the army jacket I had stolen from a dead man; the rising light from the early morning hours making them appear more startling than before.

Under a nearby tree, I caught a glimpse of a blonde haired girl, peering behind the trunk as the men gathered in front of me. Her bucket of seashells were halfway full, and she crouched low on the grass on her muddy, scratched knees, straining to hear as much as possible.

William's face was red. "What is the meaning of this?”

Rufus held out a hand, as if to silence him.

Slowly, I looked up at them, my hair blowing in the wind. The very last thing I wanted to was to depart from the boy, but I knew that the Red Mambas were mostly only a few miles away from here. And if I did not go from this place soon, they would leave nothing here standing behind. Not one thing.

Rufus took a few steps forward; speechless for a moment, before finally finding his voice. "What the hell are you doing with that baby? Whose child is this?"

"Please," I weakly said. Quickly, I slipped the backpack off my shoulder, letting it fall onto the ground with a thump. "He needs food.”

”Answer my question,” he sharply replied, studying my blood soaked clothing. “You were gone all night. You were in Portia, were you not? And I figure that this is not the first time you have violated our agreement.” In frustration, he threw his hands over his head. “Why were you there?”

”I…”

“Why were you there?”

My muscles stiffened up. His eyes were bloodshot. But I could not tell him. I could not tell him, for he would immediately drive us both away. And I knew that there was going back once he reached that point.

William smugly grinned and folded his arms.

“You can’t stay here,” Rufus said. “You have to go.” Panicked, he raised his hands over his head. “They’ll be swarms of platoons down here in only a few mere hours. And I don’t care what you decide to say to me or not.” He struggled to breathe. “They’ll outnumber our men by the thousands. They’ll destroy every last thing standing, if you do not leave.”

”I understand.”

”Then why don’t you bloody act like it?” He suddenly turned and faced me. “What is this, a sick game of some sort? One of your alcohol fueled plans?”

“You need to get this child into hiding,” I replied, chills tuning down my spine. “You can’t let anyone see him. They’ve…they’ve been conducting tests on him. Experiments. What for, I’m not sure, but he can’t be near any city until I sort this out. I’m begging you, you can’t let this—”

William scoffed. “He’s been drinking.”

“No,” I yelled, ignoring the crack in my voice. “Just listen to me. Please, you have to believe what I’m saying.”

Rufus rubbed his forehead. “I don’t have the time or patience for this. I’ve already told you. Take the boy back. And leave this camp.”

“I…I—”

”Do you not understand what you have done?!” he exploded. His face was beet red. ”I deliberately told you to stay put. How difficult is that to follow? We are directly on the outskirts of the city. They will come this way and strip it to the ground. Not only have you endangered the lives of those around us, but Khonie whom we are bringing from the camps. You have blood on your hands.”

I lowered my head.

Rufus turned his head to one of his men. “Steven. I need you to send as many people as you can around the borders of the camp. Nobody is to come in or out unless I say so. Keep a lookout, please. I will join you and the others in a moment.” He clenched his jaw. “As you can see, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. He gave me a dirty look, before rushing out and climbing or the the rocks. Once he was gone, Rufus glared at me.

”I won’t ask you to leave again. Go.”

“I must speak to the Khonie villagers down at the coral reefs,” I quietly said. “I’m going to help them relocate.” My hands shook. “Im going to aid them when the armies come.”

”Bold of you to start the flames, and then offer to extinguish them,” William snapped.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Rufus said. His face was red. “You leave those people alone. This has gone far enough. It’s over. I cannot have you on the premises anymore. It’s too much of a threat to us. And who does the child belong to?” he demanded.

William threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Perfect, another mouth to feed.”

A look of panic settled in Rufus’ eyes once he noticed I was particularly covered in blood. I buried my face against the sleeping child’s head, fighting back the water rising in my eyes. I knew I had very little time left; that I did not know when I would see him again. He was all I had left in the world---and he needed me as much as I needed him. But to have him fall into the same vicious cycle as I? To have him sent back to Jova and gone for good; I would rather be hung, shot in the head. Or set ablaze. Either would be better.

I silently asked Honda to forgive me.

”Answer the question,” William demanded. “What’s wrong with you, anways?”

I said nothing.

”You need to immediately take this boy back to his parents,” Rufus said, lowering his gaze and turning his head away from my blood stained uniform. “Whatever it is that you did, or that you are hiding from me, you don’t have to tell me. You need to go back to where you came from and turn yourself in to the authorities. Then, maybe for the first time in over a decade, Khonies and civilians can live separately, but in harmony. That’s the way it was meant to be. We always had peace—and we will have it once you’ve decided to settle down somewhere.”

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, his words crushing me. I hoped he didn’t mean the last two sentences—which confirmed my worst fears about myself, my purpose, my existence. He had always seemed the type to think before he spoke. But I saw nothing but relentless, pure anger in his eyes. I had put his family in danger. I had put everyone here in danger.

I had destroyed what few bridges I had left.

“What is there not to understand? I won’t have you bringing this madness over here,” he sternly replied. “This is beyond unacceptable. We have children and families with us, Adlai. I’ve given you one chance after another, and if you no longer wish to stay here with us, that is fine.” He adjusted his jacket. “Do as you wish. You are an adult. You are capable of your own decisions. But there are a set of boundaries here, and you have violated them.”

"You need to hide him immediately and get him to a safe place," I said, glaring at him from my blurry vision. I tried to not dwell too long on his fiery, burning words. "You need to keep him out of sight from anyone, until I am able to come back to him. Please. He can't stay with me at the moment."

”Come back to him?”

”Y-yes….I—”

”Why would I return a child to his abductor, to the very one who stole him from his family?” He took a couple of steps forward. “Why would I do that, huh? Tell me why.”

My face burned. “You drove me to mine. I’d figure you’ve had a bit of experience.”

Rufus remained silent, a bit taken back, before his eyes narrowed. I glared at him. At that moment, he looked as if he was getting ready to sock me in the face. A hint of guilt appeared in his blue eyes, but only for a moment, before he turned away from me.

”Leave this place.”

I released a shaky breath. “I’m only asking for one thing. You need to get the boy to a safe place. For only a short while. That is all I demand of you. And I will be on my way.”

William gritted his teeth. "You caused a stir up in Portia, did you not? They--"

”Shut your mouth, before I do it for you,” Rufus snapped, glancing at him.

A deep shade of pink fell on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

Rufus ignored him. "You are not answering my question. I only want the truth from you, and nothing else. Where did you get this child from? Where are his relatives? Why must we hide---"

"I know that you have had many reasons to not trust me in the past," I continued. "I know that what I ask from you is impossible." My voice shook. "But if he stays with me, he will most likely be killed or returned. And if I remain here, every single civilian and Khonie will recieve the same fate. I have been unable to keep my word."

Rufus narrowed his eyes.

I grabbed his arm. Very faintly, under my breath, I began to utter the next sentence.

”Morgan Karin is dead.”

His face grew pale, but he tried to hide his reaction at the information. “Where are the boy’s parents?”

I couldn’t get the words out.

Rufus roughly grabbed my shoulders and made me face him. “It’s a very simple question. Listen to me. You can create one excuse after another, and I do not expect you reveal everything to me at once.” He narrowed his eyes. “But this has been going on for far too long. I will not be led astray by this lie of yours. Where did you get the boy from? Where is his father and mother?”

“No matter what happens, nobody else can see him.” I struggled to look him in the eye. “Keep him out of sight, whatever you do. He doesn’t deserve this. You have to keep him out of sight until I can find a safer place for him.”

“Damn it, Adlai. What got into you for you to steal a child? Where are they?” His face was red. The questions came out in a shout, and he began to roughly shake me. “Tell me now.”

”I…I didn’t steal him.”

William’s voice shattered through the silence. "What is it that have you done to endanger all of us in one night?" A look of pure betrayal fell on his face. "I trusted you. I....we all trusted you. And now you---"

"Please,” I said. “You need to get this boy to a safe place.” Desperately, I stared up at Rufus. “There must be someone.”

He fought to keep his voice calm, but I knew he was on the verge of losing his temple. “There’s no one here to look after him. You need to take this little boy back to whoever you got him from. Now.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

"You will,” Rufus roared. “And then you will bring your ass over to Portia and clean up the mess that you started. I’ve told you a million times to keep away from their cities. I’m not picking up anything after you—not after all these weeks of you drinking and wandering off to God forsaken places. You can go to hell, for all I care.”

I studied him for while, remaining silent.

William smirked. "Ever since you have arrived, you have brought nothing but trouble and disaster." He spat on the ground. "Even when we all gave you one chance after another, you have done nothing for us but brought complete destruction. Not once, and not a single time, as I will repeat, have you ever used that curse of yours to benefit us." He pointed a finger at me. "I had told Rufus that they should've left you to rot away in the underwater caves. We've risked a man's life for this pathetic excuse of a human being."

Rufus opened his mouth, but the doctor cut him off.

"You belong in a lab," the man snarled. "You don't belong around people. You don't belong anywhere. You bring one problem after another." He faced the others. "Can't you figure it out for yourselves, fellas? He's a murderer. Look at him. He's come to us soaked in blood. His mouth is covered in filthy lies. And now, he's kidnapped someone's child and probably slaughtered their parents. He most likely murdered them in their beds."

My ears rang. Their eyes looked upon me.

"You contributed to this,” William yelled. His hands balled into fists. "You did something to the city of Portia and brought the attention of the Red Mambas, eh? You’re too cowardly to tell us what it is that you have done. And now, they're going to storm this place, kill our wives and children, because of you."

“Enough," Rufus fiercely replied—as if figured out how to untangle his tongue. “For goodness’ sake, stop talking already.”

"Enough?" William scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Enough of what, saying the truth? Someone's got to hear it. And now, we will have to evacuate this place. Cities are being destroyed. Millions of people are losing their homes because of you."

"Be angry with me, but have mercy on this child,” I whispered. "He is innocent. There is blood on my hands, and he is suffering because of me. I beg of you, please, to keep him out of sight until I return for him, and you will never see me again. He belongs to a safe place. He doesn’t need any of this.”

”We have enough people here as it is,” Rufus said. “We can’t take such responsibility on short notice upon our hands.” He slowly began to shake his head. “You need to return to a city—one that hasn’t been visited too much by the soldiers—find one of the orphanages there. He should be in good hands with them.”

”Please,” I frantically hissed. “If he stays with me, he’ll likely be killed or….”

”So is everyone here,” Rufus said, trying to hide the rage in his voice. “And you have greatly improved the chances of that occurring, that is, if you remain here and they find you. They will shoot everyone. Now, leave the premises. You kidnapped this child. And now you wish to abandon him in a place that is more dangerous than the previous one in which you took him.”’

“I…I’ll come back for him.”

A long silence passed. Rufus gazed at the boy, who was peacefully sucking his thumb, his other little hand wrapped around one of the buttons on my jacket. He stared at his face, then at my own. Slowly, from what I could pick up his furious expression, he begun to ponder my words, although reluctantly. Quietly, he held his hands out to me, uttering a curse word under his breath.

"Give him here. And get out of my sight.”

William's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious.”

"Leave," Rufus sternly said, without glancing at him. "Go somewhere else and cool off. I've had enough of your mouth, and so has everyone else here.”

The man gave me a look that sent shivers up my spine, before cursing and storming off.

Slowly, I adjusted my hands, fighting back the stinging sensation in my eyes. I wanted to hold the boy longer; to feel his heartbeat against mine, to let his tiny fingers wrap around on of my own. His presence had been a comfort to me. After taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to place him in Rufus’ outstretched arms.

"Wait!"

A girl was running, her long braids swinging down her back. Her shoes and the bottom of her dress were covered in mud. She had left her bucket by the bottom of the tree. When she reached us, she was breathless, her cheeks apple red. Rufus frowned and rose to his feet, but she hardly looked at his direction. Her eyes quickly fell upon me. As she stepped towards me, she shyly waved at me with a sunburned hand.

I slowly raised my head to look at her.

”I'm an amazing babysitter. The best in the world. Why, just last week, I watched three kids younger than me for more than half an hour."

"Mary, what did I tell you about---"

"I'm very responsible," she breathlessly said, her words crashing into each other. She spoke lightning fast, avoiding eye contact with her father. "Miss Stephanie told me so. I haven't been late a single time to a meal, and I haven't gotten in a fight for weeks."

Rufus pointed towards the huts. "Go."

The little girl hesitated, and then took a step toward me, ignoring his command, before sitting crossed legged on the grass in front of me. Her little face was solemn--I could barely look her in the eyes. My chest was burning, falling, water beading in my eyes.

"I'm a good babysitter," she repeated.

"I don't doubt that for a second,” I whispered. The boy yawned, scrunching up his face and stirring in the star printed blanket, the soft bottoms of his little bare feet pressing against my forearms and elbows. Smiling at me with his gums, he placed his fingers in his mouth, leaving a line of drool down his wrists. His damp palms reached out and touched my face, my cheekbones, before gripping at the ends of my long, disheveled hair.

My hold on him tightened.

It took everything in me to resist the urge in decide the last minute not to give him over.

"What's his name?" she timidly asked me.

I tried to give her a smile, but I knew I would fall apart in front of her, in front of everyone. I did not know, and my lack of a response would’ve increased everyone’s suspicion. But there was little to no time to explain. Her father, clearly agitated, reached out and grabbed her hand, but she pulled away, twisting her arm back in defiance.

"Does he have a mama?"

It took me a while to do so, but I managed to stand up, the star printed blanket dangling in the wind between my hands. My legs were in excruciating pain. Mary rose, almost by instinct. She kept peeking up at my arms, trying to catch a glimpse of my son's face. A large spit bubble had formed between his lips, and his eyes followed its growth. As I gently popped it with my finger, a look of surprise fell in his eyes. Releasing a high pitched squeal, he began to clap his palms.

"Yes," I softly said. "She is with him. And I."

Rufus gave me a long look.

"Would you like to hold him?" I whispered.

The little girl nodded, her thin arms outstretched. Fighting back the blurriness in my vision, I handed him over. A warm smile appeared on her face, and, after supporting his head, began to gently rock him back and forth, the blanket bundled up between her hands. Lightly, she tapped his nose with her index finger, causing him to giggle. I slowly knelt down to her level, glancing down at the ground for a moment.

"You are a natural, aren't you?"

Mary looked up at me. "I'll take very good care of him, I promise." With her other hand, she made a motion across her chest. "I won't let a thing happen to him. Cross my heart. I'll make you and his mama proud."

I nodded, because that was all I could do.

"When you come back, he'll know to do all sorts of things," the little girl said enthusiastically. "I'm also a very good teacher, by the way. How to ride a bike, draw, maybe even play a little ball." She turned her golden head up to look at Rufus. "Right? He'll stay here with us for a while?"

Her father said nothing. His eyes were a bit red rimmed, and he drew her to his side, patting her shoulder. I gave them the backpack full of baby clothing I had stolen from the house. Then, I remembered the stuffed elephant I had made for him. After retrieving this item from my now former hut, I slowly handed the toy over to Mary. The little boy had begun to tug and play with the ends of her golden braids with delight as she walked away with him in her arms, softly singing to him. Before Rufus could change his mind or suggest another alternative, I left, and did not turn back.

I could not turn back.

* * * * * * *

Biting down on a ragged cloth, I dug my fingers into the wound on my left hip, deep into the darkness of a jungle. The wet sound of my flesh tearing made me want to hurl, but at last, I managed to locate the bullet and throw it on the ground, breathing heavily. Removing my blood stained jacket, I tried to wash out the deep lacerations on my back and shoulders, the water leaving a horrible stinging sensation on my flesh.

Holding out my hand, I pulled out more fluid from a nearby tree, watching its wood shrivel and die away without the very source that provided it sustenance. The blue glowing light that illuminated from my palms shine in the dark, and, as I cleaned out my wounds, I could make out a shadow in the distance. I kept my head low, continuing to rinse my torso, strands of my wet hair over my face, before slipping my filthy jacket on again and slowly buttoning it up.

I did not want to hurt them. I did not want to force the water in their flesh to yield to me. I wanted them to understand this. An icy sensation formed around my hand, but my fingers dropped. My head was muddled. I whispered, please, please, I want to help you. Let me help find your families.

Let me pick up the pieces.

A twig snapped, followed by rushing footsteps. By instinct, I began to follow them, I began to run. They seemed to sense this, being swift and quick upon their feet. I followed their shadow, tripping and stumbling over tree roots and branches, fighting spiderwebs that had come over my face. But I kept running, despite the pain shooting up and down my body.

The figure tripped and heavily landed across a small creek, water splashing in the air. Frantically slipping in the mud, they struggled to get up, and I saw their hands wrap around something. A whizzing sound rushed through the air, and a fierce pain settled directly on my flesh.

My legs slowed down.

I studied the arrow impaled in my right arm, its brightly colored feathers blowing in the wind. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw Covey’s terrified face, splattered with blood and sweat. He frantically began to reload his bow, scrambling from me, his shaking fingers wrapped around the frayed string. His eyes narrowed at me, although the look of terror in his eyes could not be denied.

My hair fell over my face. Gritting my teeth in pain, gradually, I sank to my knees; mud clinging to my bare feet. Fighting back the warbled sounds coming my mouth and biting my tongue, I gripped the arrow and began to pull upwards. Blood dripped from my arm and stained the grass, but once I managed to pull the tip out, I threw it to the ground, fighting the urge to pass out.

Concentrating, I focused on the water from the steam. A large blob rose from its surface, and as I directed it onto my skin, the sudden coolness brought relief to me. We both stared at each other. Covey still had his bow and arrow raised at me.

”I’m not going to hurt you,” I shakily said.

Slowly, he lowered his bow—my words seemed to leave him a stunned state. Once my new wound was clean, I dug into my pocket and pulled out the kitchen knife I had taken from Mr. Karin. As I cut out a generous piece of fabric from my clothing and tightly wrapped it around my arm; he had begun to stand up, water sloshing around his legs. He was shaking.

The pain was unbearable, but at least, from what I could see, the arrow had come out completely clean. I could only hope that there was no infection to arrive. But that was the very least of my worries at the moment. He stared at my bloody, ragged clothing and the discarded arrow on the ground. I remained on the ground, grimacing in pain.

An ache lingered in my chest as I watched him flee. Silently, I stood there for a while, before heading off into the bushes.

* * * * * * *

The coral reefs and the earth was barren.

Stripped from its green glory, the former land resembled an empty husk of dried, hardened soil. For miles, nothing grew except for raging flames that consumed every inch of life. My ears rung badly; I had to stop every once in a while to wait for the dizziness to subside. In a way, I felt naked almost, without nothing to hide my face away again. To my relief, there were no tire or tread tracks in the dirt, meaning only that the tanks hadn't been able to cross over past through Navu.

The waves of the dark ocean crashed against the rocks and coral reefs.

As I stumbled down a hill, trying not to further bust up my ankles on the protruding rocks, my mouth went dry at the sight of the dead crops. What once were abundant corn and wheat fields were withered, broken stalks that were easily snatched away by hot wind. The huts were still standing; although a few roofs had been rotted through the material and had fallen into great disrepair. The rotting corpses of pigs and goats attracted flies that hovered over their shrunken flesh. And the greater the voices came in the distance, the faster my heart began to beat. I had just made it across the clearing when the sound of bullets rang out.

I dropped to the ground, flat on my stomach. In the dense night air, torches were lit far away. As several holes formed in the dirt, I scrambled behind a bush, gasping. A sharp pain settled in my left arm, and I examined the wound. It was but a graze, but I could make out a shadow heading my direction. When I got to my feet, a woman with seashells in her hair had an M4 carabine pointed at my chest. Immediately, I held my hands up.

“There,” Covey yelled. “He tried to attack me. He followed me down here.”

"Drop any weapons you have," Jene snarled.

"Please,” I whispered.

"I said, drop them!”

"I don't intend to cause any harm," I quietly said. By now, a large crowd of people had gathered around the clearing, whispering and pointing. A thick layer of sweat had gathered underneath my ragged clothing, glistening on my collarbones.

The crowd was shouting, throwing stones and coconuts at me. I kept my head low, remaining on my knees, grains of sand burning the bloody mess on my arm.

Two men were pushing through the people, and my stomach went weak when I noticed George and Ki’luwani appearing in the distance. He appeared haggard, thin, dark circles under his eyes. Silently, he drew a large machete and made his way towards us through the grass. His gaze never left me, and the undeniable rage on his face made my hands shake. Wisps of his hair blew in the wind. A circle of glowing lights surrounded the clearing.

Ki’luwani stared at me. He was startled by my appearance. No longer he was a terrified boy, but a man, sprouting a red, bushy beard. Yet there was a conflicted expression on his face. He slightly frowned and moved closer to the crowd.

“How dare you come here,” George snarled. “The vermin has followed us.”

“Yes, but is that really a surprise?” Covey asked. “He’s a poison that spreads.”

Jene narrowed her eyes, finger lingering on the trigger. On hand on a torch, another on the rifle. "I will not ask you again."

Weakly, I drew my blood stained knife out of my waistband and dropping it. It fell into the soft grass below. I could see how she flinched and drew back.

The woman moved to the side as George's shadow came into view. Lines were on his face. My wound began to weep blood, staining my right sleeve. The edge of his machete gleamed in the dull yellow light, and he raised it at me, his hand firmly clenched around the handle. The roar of the crowd grew louder, their shouts higher. Saliva landed on the side of my face, by which a man took a step back, wiping his mouth.

Someone struck me from behind, and I landed on the ground. A knee was dug into my back, and I clenched my jaw as I felt the blade slice into my skin and rough hands pat me down, searching every inch of my body. Something warm and wet trickled down my back, and George shove me against a tree trunk, causing loose leaves to rain down from above. The edge of the blade dug into my neck, and I didn't breathe. I helplessly stared at his angry, hardened eyes.

”Tie him up,” he snarled. “Now.”