Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (4 page)

“Then what do you want to do?” he asks.

“I want to leave here and return to my people, my
real
people,” I tell him. “Being married to Toussaint is like living life in prison. Please, only you can help set me free from those binds.”

The healer frowns, clearly conflicted. I expect him to deny me, to leave me locked in this room while he retrieves Toussaint. When my husband learns of my plans to fake my death and escape from him, there’s no telling how badly he will beat me. Maybe being saved by the two tribeswomen will end up more of a curse, maybe not going with them will lead to worse suffering than death, maybe they knew that would happen all along once I denied going with them…

Or maybe I will no longer allow myself to be controlled by anyone, not even the man standing in front of me now. I feel every muscle in my body tense, strength coursing through me, ready to lash out in order to keep my secret.

“What about your children?” he asks.

It’s like a punch to the gut. Of course I’ve considered this sacrifice but hearing someone else say the words makes my heart ache.

“Mr. Clark will take care of them, as Toussaint said,” I tell him. “But if I’m still alive, my husband won’t let
any
of us have a future. That’s why I must be dead.”

The healer grimaces but nods. I hope he realizes how awful of a scoundrel Toussaint truly is. He tries to step around me to reach the door but I shuffle over, blocking the way, ready to attack if necessary. The healer sighs.

“I was entrusted with your life. Now you must entrust me with your death,” he says.

I nod and step aside, hoping I’m not making a serious mistake. The healer leaves the room and I pace back and forth like a trapped animal. The two mystery women were able to sneak into and out of the fort but their anonymity and magical powers made that possible. I’m too well-known within these walls to escape unnoticed. I certainly feel strong enough to fight my way out but word would eventually reach Toussaint and I’m afraid what he’ll do to our kids to make me pay.

When the door opens again, the healer is not alone.

“Please wait out here for a moment,” he tells the men with him.

“Thought you said you needed help carrying the body,” says a gruff voice I recognize as one of Toussaint’s drinking buddies – there’s not a shortage of them here.

“In a moment, I must prep the body in a respectful manner first,” the healer says.

“Since when we gotta be respectful to some Indian girl,” the man says.

“Since
now
,” the healer says.

He slips into the room and shuts the door on the others. He drags a long wooden board behind him and looks at me with annoyance.

“If you’re going to be dead, can you at least
play
dead?” he hisses at me. “If those men saw you walking around, it would be hard to convince them that you past on. It’s a good thing they’re already drunk and not seeing straight.”

He lays the flat board on the floor and tells me to climb on it. I lay flat, my body too large to fit on it completely. But there’s no time to find a better way to move me. I can tell the healer is very nervous about doing this and I can’t risk him changing his mind. He drapes a white sheet over me.

“Don’t move a muscle,” he whispers. “And try not to breathe so deep. I won’t be able to explain why a dead person is making the sheet move up and down.”

I tense my abdominal muscles and try to take short, shallow breaths. Without another word, the healer opens the door.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he tells the men, whose heavy boots
thump
on the wooden floor with every step.

They lift both ends of the board and the unexpected movement nearly causes me to slide off. I can just imagine what it would look like if I tumbled over and moved my arms to break the fall. I try to remain as still as possible but I might be too tensed up – a dead body probably does
some
moving around when being carried. Who knew that pretending to be dead would prove so difficult?

Having lived at the fort for several years, I know every inch of the place. The dead are usually cremated outside the fort walls but these men are taking a very long time to make the trip. It’s smart that the healer commissioned several drunks to carry me because they might miss clues that I’m still alive; it’s
not
so great that they plod slowly when I’m already a nervous wreck.

But I focus on my breathing, short inhales through my mouth, short exhales out of my nose. I’m sure I’d be sweating but it’s the middle of December and the weather is always frigid in this part of the country. Shivering too much would be tough for even the drunks to miss but the coldness has little effect on me right now. Apparently my newfound strength affects me in more ways than one.

“Stop right there!” a high-pitched voice calls out, the words slurred together. A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the weather. “She finally died and you did not think to tell me?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you made it clear you no longer wished to see her,” the healer says.

“How
dare
you assume to know what I do or do not want!” Toussaint snaps at him.

I
know
that tone of voice, I know it means he’s consumed far too much moonshine in the time since he left my room.
This
is the Toussaint who’s most cruel, the Toussaint who’s made my life unbearable since I was a little girl.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was having her taken outside to be burned along with the trapper mauled by that pack of wolves yesterday,” the healer says. “Would you like to come along and help me with the fire, say a proper goodbye to her?”

My pulse races and I’m certain my heart pounds hard enough to make the sheet flutter over my chest. The sheet is suddenly ripped off me and I immediately close my eyes. I’ve seen dead bodies before and many times their eyes are open and blank – I hope Toussaint doesn’t question why mine are closed.

I can’t see him but I
feel
him linger over me. The strong smell of booze on his breath makes me want to cringe but I keep my face relaxed and still, concentrate on the short breaths. I worry that he can tell but it’s not long before he speaks the last two words I’ll ever hear from his dreadful voice.

“Good riddance.”

The smell of moonshine fades and my heartbeat steadies. The sheet is draped back over my body and the men walk the last few minutes outside of the fort, where they carelessly drop the board. I can’t hold back a tiny
grunt
but luckily neither of them hear.

“Should we get the fire started?” asks one of the men.

“I will take care of that, you two head back inside,” the healer says. “Considering how much you drank today, I’m not sure it’s safe for either of you two to be near an open flame. I don’t want to get rid of more bodies.”

The two drunks chuckle and I hear the
crunch
of footsteps in snow as they walk away.

“Don’t come out yet,” the healer whispers. “At least let me get the fire going first in case anyone else comes out.”

The wait seems to last forever. Energy feels like it emanates from my very pores. I remain still beneath the sheet but my desire to get far away from here – far away from the only life I’ve ever known – builds as fast as the crackling fire building beside me. Finally the healer removes the sheet and I see the massive blaze of a bonfire and a sky full of stars above.

“Anybody looking won’t be able to see you now,” he says.
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s freezing and there’s not much around. I don’t see how you will survive the night.”

I smile. “If there’s one thing I’m certain, it’s that I’ll survive.”

He nods and hands me a dark traveling cloak. I’m still not cold but I wrap it around myself anyway. The healer wishes me luck and I turn away from the fort, never to look back again. I take a deep breath of refreshing night air; the smell of freedom is delicious.

I head south and begin to run, picking up more speed with every step. The world is soon a blur around me yet I don’t become short of breath, my legs don’t burn, my heart doesn’t pound. I run faster and farther than I ever have before.

I run.

“Get ready to run!” Celeste yells, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The present suddenly rushes back to me. The blaring sirens are so loud and close behind that I wonder how I wasn’t jarred from my memories earlier. And no longer are
just
a few police cars chasing us; it looks like half of the Mount Pocono P.D. is hot on our tail.

“Run? Run where? Where can we possibly hide?” I ask. I see nothing in these surroundings woods different than where we could’ve run at any other point in this chase. “I know you said we shouldn’t stop to tell the police what happened but don’t you think we’re out of options?”

“We’re
way
beyond the point of dealing with them,” Celeste says. “We can’t let them know how important Cassie is.”

“How important
is
she?”

She ignores my question. “And we can’t let the kidnapper get farther away.”

“We already
are
too far away. I don’t feel the slightest tingling anymore, do you?” I ask.

“Not yet, but driving the van isn’t letting us cover enough ground, especially with the cops so close,” Celeste says. “That’s why it’s time to get out.”

“
Where
are we going to – ”

She cuts the wheel, nearly sideswiping a police car trying to flank us. A big dirt parking lot suddenly opens up in the middle of the woods, where a dozen cars are parked. An elderly couple taking pictures nearly becomes road pizza but Celeste somehow avoids them. With a dozen police cars storming the lot behind us, Celeste slams on the brakes and the old van begins to fishtail. It seems like we’re out of control as I jostle around in my seat but we jerk to a stop. Celeste jumps out of the van like this is how she meant to park. She grabs her old bow and slings it over her shoulder.

“Are you coming?” she asks impatiently, snapping me out of my shock.

“Stay in your vehicle or we
will
open fire!” the police order over their loudspeaker.

The prospect of being shot a second time today doesn’t appeal to me but I have no choice than to risk it. With or without me, Celeste takes off running down a nearby path. I grab my own bow and take off after her. I glance back to see the officers piling out of their cars but many look slow and out of shape. One even trips and falls and winds up with a face full of dirt. I turn back around just as I pass a sign that reads: BOULDER FIELD.

I’ve heard of this place but never visited it before. We pass several tourists along the short trail but they quickly move out of the way – I guess a combination of blaring police sirens and running women armed with bows makes people nervous. The path opens suddenly and for a moment I stop in my tracks and stare in awe. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how this place got its name. Nestled amongst the expanse of forest green is
literally
a field of boulders comprising all shapes and sizes. I’m sure there’s some sort of geological explanation for such a strange phenomena but it looks otherworldly to me. The field stretches for as far as the eye can see. Tiny dots move among the boulders randomly across the field; it takes me a moment to realize those dots are actually people.

And we’re about to join them. Celeste leaps atop the first boulder with the greatest of ease and glides from rock to rock, never missing a beat despite the difference in the boulders’ shapes and sizes. I follow with just as much grace, leaping up and down, side to side, maneuvering across the boulders without problem. Celeste moves with amazing natural smoothness but it’s not long before I surpass her.

“Wait one moment,” she calls out.

I stop on a dime and have to balance myself on a wedge-shaped boulder. It’s actually harder for me to stand atop these misshapen formations than to skip across them. I look back toward where I started, amazed that I’ve gone so far. The police don’t give up their pursuit but it’s almost humorous to watch them try to keep up. Many of the smaller rocks shift when they’re stepped on and it’s not long before they’re tripping or falling between the cracks. I have the utmost respect for police – and I fully understand why they’re chasing us though they make it impossible for us to find Cassie – but it’s comical to see them struggle with something that’s so easy for me.

I could probably take a nap and they
still
wouldn’t reach me.

“Why are we stopping?” I ask Celeste, who slowly turns in a circle, searching the treeline borders of the massive field.

“
That
way you think?” she asks, pointing off to the right.

I look in that direction but see nothing except a
lot
of boulders and trees in the distance.

“What am I looking for?”

“Those trees are the farthest away?” she asks. “We’d have the most room going that way?”

I glance all around. None of the trees are very close but the direction she points
is
farthest away.

“Yeah, why?”

She answers by taking out a small tube from her quiver. We’ve only lived in Pennsylvania a short time but I’m already an expert when it comes to fireworks. It seems like you can’t drive more than two minutes in the Poconos without seeing signs for some kind of Fireworks Mega-Store. Celeste lit a Sky Bloomer when we first tracked Cassie and her kidnapper but I haven’t had time to ask her why. Now she lights another one and the small explosive rockets toward the sky, its high-pitched whistling followed by an explosion of red light. It might have looked more spectacular against the night sky but is still tough to miss.

Now the police will have one more thing to charge us with.

“Let’s go,” Celeste says “But don’t run too fast, not yet. We don’t want to run out of space.”

“Space for what?” I ask.

“Our ride,” she says, starting to run.

“Our ride where?
Where
are we going?” I ask, growing increasingly frustrated as I sprint after her.

“Up,” Celeste says and gestures to the sky.

The yellow biplane suddenly flies through the area where the bright red light just exploded. It flies toward the end of Boulder Field and banks in the sky as it lowers altitude. It’s soon flying so low that it barely misses skimming treetops in the distance. The biplane’s pilot adjusts course and flies in our direction, getting lower and lower while speeding toward us. Still, the plane – and more importantly the rope ladder that gets tossed over the side – is too high and we have to run farther across the field to give the pilot room to reach us. The
whirring
engines grow louder on approach and the noise makes me nervous. Celeste still hops from boulder to boulder without a care but I stumble several times. Somehow I manage to remain upright but Celeste is so far ahead that I have to rush to catch up.

It soon becomes obvious that I haven’t run far enough. The plane flies directly overhead and while it looks huge this low, the rope ladder’s bottom rung is still fifteen feet above me. I summon all my strength and leap, soaring so high that I’d impress the greatest of basketball players. But the ladder is inches from my fingertips and I plummet back down to the field of boulders. I manage to land on my feet and keep moving forward but I have to admit that I’m disappointed – this is the first time my physical abilities have failed me.

But I’m not one to give up easily. Failure ignites a fire within me and I push myself even harder, throwing caution to the wind as I race over the massive boulders. I run so quickly that my feet barely touch the rocks, barely allow me the chance to stumble. Up ahead, the biplane lowers just enough for Celeste to jump and grab hold of the ladder. She glances back at me and yells something but the plane is too loud for me to hear her words. Still, it’s not hard to figure out what she’s saying.

Hurry up!

My pulse races as quickly as my feet but I’m soon
gaining
on the plane. It’s pretty cool to be able to run
faster
than a vehicle whose ability to fly is based largely on speed. But there’s no time to be impressed with myself. Despite how much ground I’m making up on the plane, I’m also
losing
ground on Boulder Field, running out of space even though the place is expansive. I’m getting closer and closer to the ladder but the trees are
also
nearer.

The plane begins pulling up to avoid a crash and I’m certain there’s no way I’ll make it. Desperation sends a final blast of adrenaline through my veins and I suddenly leap a second time, knowing I’ll smash into a tree if I don’t reach the ladder.

I still come up short of the final rung and close my eyes, unable to watch what’s about to happen to my body. I crash through the trees but it’s not as bad as I expect –
and
the part of me that brushes through the leaves isn’t what I expect. My stomach feels the sensation of flying before the rest of my body and when I look down, I realize my eyes are still squeezed shut. I open them to see my feet now safely through the trees, my body rising higher off the ground.

I can
fly
, too?
Considering the other amazing abilities I never expected to possess, this might not be such an outrageous thought.
Until
I feel the strong pressure on my wrist and look up to see Celeste holding onto me, her grip tight as a vice. I might be faster and stronger than her but she still holds my weight without a problem, even though she only has one hand and one foot on the ladder.

“Would you stop hanging around already?” Celeste asks.

“I’m sorry, I – ”

But I stop apologizing when I see a grin on her face. Dangling hundreds of feet above the ground seems an odd time to make a joke but apparently she’s relieved that the police chase is over… at least the ground part of it. Celeste pulls me all the way up and I grab the ladder rung above the one she holds onto. I climb toward the top, giving no thought to falling and plunging to my death. Instead I’m in a rush to see who’s flying and I rush up the unsteady ladder, every rung leading me closer to solving the mystery…

By the time I reach the top, Boulder Field is just a speck on the ground below us. I climb safely into the second seating section and turn around to look at the pilot.

“Where were they headed?” the pilot asks me.

She’s a woman. Immediately I’m disappointed that the tiny chance of my father being alive is gone. The pilot has short brown hair and wears leather goggles that look like they’re from a different time period. I have a vague recollection of learning about her in school but I’m suddenly struck with a flash of memory from my past life.

Inside the cramped back quarters of a tiny silver plane… The plane shakes, everything rattles, feels like we’re falling apart… The night sky through the cockpit window… A man’s voice yells in fear but the woman pilot is much calmer even though we’re clearly going down…

The flash lasts only a second.

“I know who you are,” I call out over the loud sound of rushing wind. “You’re – ”

“She knows who she is,” Celeste interrupts as she reaches the top of the ladder.

The biplane only has two small seating areas and it’s clear the pilot needs all of her space to fly. I try to slide over but Celeste doesn’t bother attempting to squeeze in next to me. Instead, she props one foot on the lip of the cockpit, the other foot on the wing beside us, and holds onto a crossbeam connecting the two wings.

“Where were they headed?” the pilot yells back, this time asking Celeste.

Celeste scans the horizon and points just to the side.

“The last time Zannia… Sacajawea… felt anything we were heading southwest,” Celeste calls out. “Head that way and fly low.”

The pilot nods her head and turns the plane. I worry about Celeste not being strapped in more securely but she stares down at the ground hundreds of feet below, no concern for her own well-being.

“I guess someone’s getting her memory back,” the pilot says to me, a frown across her face. “Tell me if you see anything down there, if anything seems familiar.”

But as of right now, I feel no tingling and all I see far below is trees and forest. I try to stay focused on finding Cassie but it’s not long before my unlocked memory takes over my mind…