“Then we must prepare for war,” I snap in anger.
“Ladon, we haven’t even seen the Invaders in weeks,” she says.
“You think that means they’re gone?”
“Maybe? Maybe they got what they wanted and left,” she says.
“Don’t play a fool Calista, you’re too smart for it,” I say.
“Don’t call me a fool,” she says, eyes flashing in anger.
I bite my tongue as I struggle against the surging bijass.
Run. Take them. Run. No time. Protect. Care for.
It takes all my will to hold the red haze of primal instinct at bay. It creeps in around my control, urging, as it fights for control. Her resistance taunts it, daring her to continue. I will do what I must to protect my family.
“We must make a final strike,” I say. “Now.”
I can’t stand here any longer. Since the illness it’s been harder than ever to control the bijass. Fighting with her isn’t helping. I stride to the front door.
“Don’t you leave,” she orders.
I look over my shoulder, one hand on the door.
“I love you,” I say. Then I leave.
5
Anna
I’ve lost feeling in my feet. Correction—I’ve lost feeling everywhere. My nightmare isn’t stopping. It goes on and on and on. Phillip stumbles and falls. His arms shake as he pushes himself up out of the sand.
Petras and I try to help him to his feet, but my arms are too heavy. I can’t help. I can barely keep myself up. Some of the others come and help, and it takes a massive team effort, but we get him on his feet. He’s weaving on his feet, his face blank and his eyes empty.
“Phillip,” I say.
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even blink. I snap my fingers in front of his face, but nothing. I look at Petras and Jacob who each shrug in turn. I close my eyes and shake my head, a desperate attempt to clear my thoughts. Every thought comes slow, fighting its way through the thick tar that fills my head.
“Come on, Phillip!” Petras yells. Well he raises his voice, but I wouldn’t call it a yell. A yell would take a lot more energy than any of us have left.
“Screw it,” I say and slap Phillip across the face.
He yelps, eyes blinking as his hand flies to his cheek.
“Hey! What was that?” he asks, blissfully unaware we’ve been trying to get him to pay attention for the past ten minutes.
“You spaced,” I say, ignoring the wriggle of pleasure the slap caused me.
He really hurt me when we were dating. The slap wasn’t undeserved. After all, he cheated on me.
“Oh,” he says, shaking himself. “Sorry.”
“Be sorry later,” Petras snaps. “Keep moving.”
Phillip nods and stumbles into motion. The rest of the group follows suit. Fourteen. Fourteen of over a hundred. When I glance over my shoulder, there is a fitful orange glow on the horizon, brightening the night.
Our home. Or what was our home. That’s over now, and once more the future is uncertain. I’m not the only one who keeps looking over my shoulder. Everyone is doing it.
“Why?” Maeve asks, tears streaming down her face.
Maeve looks rough, but I imagine it’s a mirror of how I look. Soot stains mar her high cheekbones. Her dark eyes glitter with unshed tears. A hot breeze tugs her auburn hair away from her face. She wipes her sleeve across her eyes.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Because somewhere, someone out there,” Morgana points to the sky above, “really hates us.”
Morgana is tall, curvy and busty. She has a strong face and sharp, intelligent eyes. She’s the settlement’s spiritualist. Often saying things like this, placing blame on some external force. She’s starry-eyed, and I’ve never liked her myself. I don’t hate her, but she has a weird vibe and makes me feel like she’s looking through me, not at me. It’s creepy.
“Thanks for that helpful input,” I snark.
I can’t put any force behind the quip. That would require me to feel something.
“Anyone have anything to eat?” Sophia asks.
Sophia is short—she barely comes up to my tits. Her face is so cute it hurts, framed by pure blonde hair and bright eyes. Her skin is flawless. She reminds me of a porcelain doll. When she smiles it warms my heart but she’s not smiling now. How could she?
“I have some meats,” Liam says, holding up a leather satchel.
The group looks to me. How I became the de facto leader is beyond me. They obviously don’t know I’m as clueless as anyone. I shrug and nod my assent. Everyone gathers around into a loose huddle as Liam digs into the bag and passes out pieces of smoked meat.
I take one myself and chew the leathery meat. It helps ease the pounding headache, a little at least. No one talks. Everyone is staring at the ground. Emptiness pulses in time with my heartbeat.
“We need to keep moving,” I say, swallowing the last of my share.
My throat is dry and raw. I work my mouth trying to force out some moisture, but it doesn’t help. I know we’re all feeling the same. We didn’t have time to prepare for a journey across the desert. No water. The fact we have food at all is a lucky break.
We’re a small mob, stumbling across the sandy dunes. I’m not even sure we’re going in the right direction. I think so. I hope so. It’s hard to focus. One moment blends with the next as my thoughts drift randomly. Sometimes I think I skip time. At least I’m not aware of it passing when I’ll suddenly realize my surroundings are completely different. Progress, right?
Random pictures flash through my thoughts. Horrible scenes of those we’ve lost. Sometimes my stomach tightens, and bile threatens my throat. If there was anything in my stomach to lose, I’m sure it would be gone. As it is, I’m only miserable.
“Fuck Gershom,” Emma yells, startling me. She shakes her fist at the sky, tears streaming down her face. “Fuck you!”
“Emma,” I say, but I don’t stop stumbling forward. My feet are on a mission and they’re not going to be stopped by minor inconveniences. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” she yells, stumbling in my direction.
She’s flushed, teeth bared, the dirt marring the dark skin of her face gives her a wild, primal look. The way her eyes flash in the moonlight would probably be scary if it could pierce past the armor of numbness that’s wrapped itself around my soul.
“I agree,” Jacob says. “Fuck him.”
Some instinct in me wants to argue yet it’s not like I care. Gershom was a liar. A false messiah. Or, colloquially, an asshole. All his Human First rhetoric turned out to be nothing more than a blatant power grab.
He preyed on our fears, insecurities, and need for hope, any hope for a future. That we would all survive this, somehow. He’s the one who preached no epis. No depending on the Zmaj, telling us that we should be in control, not them. That they were evil, more or less, and plotting our downfall.
I never bought it, at least not all of it. Yet I was as scared as anyone. How could I be anything else? We’d survived the crash of the generation ship that was the only home we had ever known. The only home we’d ever expected to see. When Calista hooked up with one of the seven-foot-tall alien dragon men it seemed wrong.