The Fortunates (Unfortunate #2) - Skyla Madi Page 0,84

of at least three hundred people running toward change. The empty fields that stretch ahead are alive with fight and desperation. It sends a thrill over the surface of my skin. I’ve let these people out of their chains and even if they die in this field, they die with wind whipping their faces and the fresh grass at their feet.

I touch Kaden’s handgun that’s tucked nicely into my waistband. I dropped my rifle fifty metres back. I had no choice but to let it go. It was too heavy to run with. Where is he? He better make it to the camp. Painful tendrils of dread burrow through my stomach.

Please.

I push forward and the ground underneath my feet begins to slope into a decline. Shortly after, running becomes easy. My muscles no longer burn and I can’t stop, even if I wanted to. The sensation ends abruptly as my speed comes to an end and the muscles in my legs beg for relief. My lungs burn like fire and I gasp for air as I force one foot in front of the other and climb the steep slope. Scattered around me, Unfortunates struggle with the hill, but they force themselves onwards, like I do. I hear sobbing; the calm air is tainted by the sounds of gunshots and wails. They’re close. They’re far away. I don’t have the courage to look and see who won’t make it. My heart won’t let me.

It feels like hours have passed by the time I reach the top and I come face to face with the Unfortunate camp. My old home. A loud clank echoes around me and the large, ten-foot concrete gate slowly opens. We stop, all of us, not knowing if the moderators on this end are friend or foe.

My heart stops beating as a moderator steps out, his gun cocked in our faces. The air is tense and silent…until he lowers his gun and waves us in. The Fortunates and Unfortunates in front of me flood in, squeezing and pushing, desperate to get away from the whizzing bullets that fly past. I stop twenty metres from the gate and finally allow myself to turn around. My stomach sinks at the sight. People shove past me, their shoulders slamming into me and knocking me off balance. Even so, I can’t look away. Smoke and fire billow from the town, dusting the inky sky in black and grey, filling the air with smells of burning and grass. Screams surround me and echo in my head. Women call for their children, men call for their wives. The world slows down as I scan the hills, looking at the fallen Fortunates and Unfortunates who are tiny specks in the distance. Moderators chase us in droves, their black uniforms looking like poison against the deep green grass and the white tunics of the Unfortunates.

“Unh!” I grunt as I’m shoved to the side.

I crash to the dry ground and tuck my hands into my chest, careful not to get them trampled.

“Anna?” A warm hand wraps around my bicep and tugs me to my feet.

John Milano slips into my line of sight and he cups my face, turning it to the side and inspecting my skin. “I’m sorry! Are you all right?”

I nod, shrugging him off. If he’s here, surely Kade isn’t too far behind him? I try to push him to the side to get a better look. The crowd racing toward us begins to thin out as their moderators remain on the opposite hill. Still, I don’t see him. My husband. Where is he?

“Did you see Kaden?” I ask, desperately.

John glances over his shoulder, his face grave and uncertain. “No. I didn’t—”

I shove past him and jog in the opposite direction. A bullet zips past me and John gasps.

“Anna!” he shouts. “You’re going to get yourself shot. We need to close the gates.”

I ignore him. Kade wouldn’t go down so easily. He’s coming. I know he is. I clench my fists on and off while John yells at me. Straggling Fortunates and Unfortunates limp past me and into the Unfortunate camp…

Until I’m the only one standing there.

People yell at me like I’m stupid, like I want to get shot, but the bullets have stopped. The moderators on the opposite hill no longer shoot and the silence stacks stones in my stomach. My lower lip trembles and my heart…well…it freezes in time, not daring to take another beat in fear of shattering into a million pieces.

“Anna…”

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