Stung - By Bethany Wiggins Page 0,71

need a break,” I say, tearing my hand from her grasp.

“Whatever. But just shut up,” she growls. “The tunnels are never safe.”

Through the darkness and sludge, I guide Bowen to the damp tunnel wall. He leans against it, throwing one arm around me for support.

“Tommy, is there anything else we can give Bowen to help him?” I ask. I switch my pack around so it is in front of me but still looped to my shoulders and rummage around inside it for food and water. I open a water bottle and feel for Bowen’s hand. He takes the bottle and drinks.

“We could do another IV,” Tommy says, “but I worry about secondary infections. It’s so dirty down here, he might die of blood poisoning if we puncture his skin. I have a vitamin tablet and an energy tablet. They might help.”

“No!” Arrin blurts. “We’re almost there!”

“How much longer,” Bowen asks. His voice sounds as cold and weak as the sun in winter.

“Ten minutes tops,” Arrin says, her voice nearly a purr. “I know you’ll make it. Just … let’s go.”

I take the water bottle from Bowen and put it into the pack, then secure it on my back again. “I’m not leaving until Bowen eats a vitamin and an energy tablet,” I say.

Arrin groans. Tommy sloshes to Bowen’s side. “Open up, man. Now chew.”

I hear the tablets crunch in Bowen’s mouth. The sound eases a bit of the tension wound tight in my belly. “Now we can go,” I say. But I don’t want to go on. Something doesn’t feel right.

We all grasp hands again and continue through the slop. Holding Bowen’s hand is like holding an ice cube. Arrin’s is like fire. And every step we take, dread coils more tightly in my belly.

We haven’t been walking five minutes when the stuff squelching around my feet becomes thin liquid again, the stench less powerful.

“See? I told you we were almost there! Almost inside the wall,” Arrin says, not keeping her giddy voice down.

“When you said you knew a way into the wall through the tunnels, you also meant you know a way up to the top, right?” Tommy asks, voice suspicious. Maybe he can feel the same thing I’m feeling—unease.

“Duh. Of course there’s a way to the top. You just have to know where to go,” Arrin answers.

We take three more steps through the pitch-blackness, when I jerk to a stop. Bowen walks into me again, and Arrin’s hand slips out of mine. My heart is pounding, and despite the fact that the tunnels are already midnight black, I close my eyes, straining to hear.

“What now?” Tommy grumbles.

“I heard something ahead,” I whisper. I reach forward for Arrin, but she’s not within arm’s reach. “Arrin?” She doesn’t reply. We are stuck in darkness, trapped in silence. I hear a rustle from behind, and then a match flickers. Golden light hovers around Tommy’s hand. And reflects against a dozen pairs of eyes.

One pair of eyes isn’t as tall as the others. The short pair steps forward—Arrin, her mouth a hard line—and points at me. “That’s Fiona Tarsis. The Ten.”

“Oh no,” Bowen whispers. His hand begins trembling in mine.

Tommy curses, and I know without looking that he’s got his rifle on his shoulder, aiming at the eyes.

“Put your weapon down, militia man.” The voice comes from the shadows. “We’ve got you surrounded. If you hand over the Ten, we’ll let you go. If you try to fight, we’ll kill you before we take her. So we win no matter what. You just have to decide how badly you want to lose.”

I look around and gasp. There are people behind us, in front of us, on either side of us, even hanging in the pipes overhead. And most of them hold something that shines just like their eyes—weapons. Tommy grunts and tosses his gun to the side of the tunnel, out of the water.

“You too, Ten. Disarm. We are armed and we are many,” the voice says.

I take the small gun from my waistband and slip the rifle off the backpack, and toss them to the side of the tunnel by Tommy’s gun.

“You want to come with us now, Ten, or do you want your escort shot first?” The click-clack of a rifle being cocked echoes through the tunnel.

Without a second thought, I drop Bowen’s hand and take a step forward.

“No! Fo, wait,” Bowen pleads, taking a step toward me.

“Bowen, they’ll kill you if I don’t go with them.”

“That’s right. She’s got