Tobias?
“Hattie!” Coop barks, and she comes to a standstill. Those large doe eyes of hers look slightly terrified by his tone. “When you came to me that first night, you said you wanted to help find your family.”
She takes an uneasy step toward us. “That’s what they wanted me to say.”
“Who are ‘they,’ Hattie?” I ask, trying to maintain the fine line of trust with her. “Is it Wesley?”
Her eyes widen as if she sees where this is going.
“You don’t believe me. You think I’m here to hurt you. I would never do that Laken. You have to believe me. Flynn and you—you’re my only friends.”
“A few weeks back,” I start, “you morphed into a monster in the dining hall. As far as I know, Celestra can’t do that.” I don’t finish, and let her surmise what she will.
“There was a Fem with me that morning. He said he liked to have fun with you.” She holds out her hand, and I take it. We shouldn’t speak. They might hear.
I give a brief nod. Tell me, Hattie. Who’s doing this? Are they trying to throw me off?
I can’t go back there. Her face fills with fear, and for a second I think she’s going to bolt. I shouldn’t say anything else.
Then don’t tell me. I tighten my grip over her. Show me their faces.
Here are your enemies, Laken. An image of Jones pops up with his tie notched just above his sweater. Edinger stains the landscape of her mind, seated at his desk—across from him sits Cooper. He leans over and shakes Edinger’s hand, and my blood runs cold. My body goes numb from the visual. Her mind goes blank, and it’s done.
Wesley wasn’t a part of the show.
I glance over at the boy who so efficiently stole my heart. Cooper?
Which one put you up to this? I pull Hattie in as if I were about to give her a hug.
Figure it out, Laken. I’m not going back into that hellhole just because you can’t do the math.
The rustle of branches emits from the south.
“They’re here!” She pulls me along as we trek deeper into the armpit of these unhallowed woods until we come upon a clearing. “Flynn?” Her voice quivers as she calls his name.
A stench fills the air. One by one the shadows around us come to life, and bodies fill in the landscape.
I suck in a quick breath.
“There’s enough of them to outfit a small city,” I whisper to Coop.
Too bad they’re not human. Every single one of them is a Spectator.
I latch onto Cooper for dear life.
We’re surrounded—far too outnumbered to ever win this war.
If this isn’t a trap, I don’t know what is.
Cooper
Spectators hold a peculiar stench. They make rotting fish and sour milk smell about as pleasant and welcome as apple pie.
The shadows move in around us. Bodies, in numbers too high to count, shade the open spaces as grunts and howls take over the night.
I would have thought we could trust Hattie. I thought for sure she was leading us to Flynn as she made us believe. And now, here we are a hundred deep in a crowd of long forgotten humans who happen to crave the very thing we need to survive—brains.
I run my hand up my thigh as I reach for the meager weaponry on me. I’ve got nothing but a six-inch pocketknife and my bare hands to protect Laken. There are far too many of them to ever win this fight.
A hard grunt riles up the masses. A Spectator with jeans and an Ephemeral practice jersey makes his way to the middle with his wiry hair, his body strutting in staccato motions, his arms and legs locked in their partial rigor state. I recognize those stoned out eyes—that stupefied look.
Shit.
“Flynn!” Hattie runs over and jumps on his stiff frame causing him to stumble back a few good feet.
“Looks like she’s the real deal after all,” Laken whispers, wrapping her arms tight around my waist.
“Coop,” Flynn grunts it out with all his effort.
I head over and lay my hand over his so he can speak his mind, literally.
His flesh is cold to the touch and rubbery as a corpse, but I suppose that’s par for the course as far as Spectators go.
“What the hell happened?” I ask as the crowd narrows in on us. Laken places her hand over mine in an effort to listen in.
Dude! He grunts in his enthusiasm. I found the Tobias family. They’re ready and willing to