Warchild: Pawn (The Warchild Series) (7 page)

She points at me again, more
insistently, hand shaking, toothless smile opening wider. She says, “And a girl
shall lead them.”

Captain Tanner glances at me over
his shoulder then scoffs. “Her?
Her
? Ridiculous. And here I thought you
had the gift, old woman.”

CHAPTER ● TEN

The two large soldiers warily
advance and once they’re within a couple feet of Ellery, Captain Tanner says,
“Proceed, gentlemen.”

They hesitate.

“I said
proceed
.”

One looks at the other, and they
both shrug their shoulders, silently agreeing.

They lunge.

Ellery moves like I’ve never seen
her move before. She’s fast, nimble, dodging to the side. It reminds me of the
elusive chickens we keep in the community pen. You reach, try to grab, and then
they’re gone.

There one second and then not.

The soldiers stumble and fall face
first into the mud and puddles of rainwater.

Ellery cackles with laughter as they
climb to their feet and charge at her once more.

Again, she skips to the side, tips
her head back and giggles like a little girl.

It’s fun for her, this game that’s
similar to Catch the Rabbit.

Captain Tanner shouts at the
soldiers, tells them to stop disgracing the northern army and to capture the
old woman. Again and again they try. They fail.

The rest of the infantrymen around
us begin chuckling, unable to control themselves, and then they go stone-faced
silent when Captain Tanner orders them to shut up.

I don’t. I keep laughing. He can’t
order me to stop.

It’s hard to imagine laughing in a
situation like this, captured, so close to my own death, with so many of my
friends and their families lying dead around me, but it’s a measure of relief—a
way to let go of all that I’m holding inside. It’s so unbelievably horrible
that I have to laugh, because if I break down, if I give up, it’ll definitely
be the end. The laughter gives me hope.

Captain Tanner shouts, “The rest of
you, move in! Get her!”

I count the blackcoats. There are
fifteen of them creating a circle around Ellery, slowly closing it as she ducks
and dodges and dances around the first two. Seconds later, they’re on top of
her, feet away. She doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I imagine her bending at
the knees and jumping, flying up into the sky, bringing at least one more of
the Elders’ stories to life.

It doesn’t happen.

They grab her, restrain her, holding
her still. She doesn’t fight back.

My laughter slips away.

Why doesn’t she fight back? I want
her to fight back. I want all of it to be true. I want her to sling them
together, beat them, fight her way out and escape. I want her to run from our
encampment and be free.

I struggle against the soldier
holding me, wiggling and squirming, trying to get loose from his strong arms. “Stop,”
I scream.

Hawkins steps toward the group. “I
really don’t think that’s necessary.”

Now
he’s trying to help. Now he’s
realized that he made a mistake.

Now I hate him even more. It’s too
late to make up for what he’s done.

Captain Tanner shouts for Hawkins to
remain where he is, then marches over to the circle and forces his way inside. Four
soldiers hold her, and I don’t know why it takes so many. She’s not trying to
get away. She’s standing still and smiling at
me
.

Captain Tanner slaps Ellery’s face
and then roughly grabs her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “I was hoping
this would go a bit differently. What’s your name?”

She says nothing.

He repeats, “What’s your name?”

“There’s power in a name,” Ellery
says.

He squeezes harder, shakes her head
back and forth. “Tell me!”

“It’s not mine you’ll have to worry
about. If you make it out of here alive, and you will, for now, there’s another
name you’ll remember.”

“Is that so?” Captain Tanner grins
and lets go of Ellery’s face. Grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks her head
sideways, hard, trying to hurt her. “And what name is that, you decaying old hag?”

“Caroline,” is all she says.

Before I have time to question what
she means, a loud pop of gunfire echoes throughout the valley. The four
soldiers holding Ellery let go, and she drops to the ground, holding her chest.
Behind her hands, I can see red seeping into her saturated dress. She takes one
breath, then another, and collapses.

Brandon’s gone. Grandfather’s gone. Ellery’s
gone.

When the Elders talked about how
things were before the world ended, they never mentioned how it felt when it
did, so long ago.

Now I know. It’s a deep, dark aching
that starts in your chest and then slithers down into your stomach, your
bowels. It crawls into your legs and arms, your throat and your head. You feel
empty, but you feel nothing.

This is what it’s like.

This is how it feels when your world
ends.

Captain Tanner pivots, clicks his
heels together, and marches in my direction.

I hear Finn’s voice. I’ve been so
focused on everything else, I’d forgotten that he was beside me. “What did she
mean?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I wish I did, but
her reasoning escapes me. Grandfather always said I had strength—and back in
the cabin, before he passed, he said she gave it to me for a reason—but it
makes no sense. What strength? She who? I’m no stronger than anyone else I
know. I can’t recall a moment in my life where someone gave me anything
special. We always salvaged what we needed, or traded, or shared.

I’ve been given nothing. Everything
has been taken away.

“Are you sure?”

I look at Finn, nodding. I am. I’m
sure. I’m not special.

The soldier holding me says, “Shut
up,” and squeezes harder.

Captain Tanner prances up to the two
of us. He’s happy about what he’s done. He’s murdered the last Kinder. This
fact will certainly get him a promotion in rank. People will tell stories about
him. People will talk about the man that accomplished the undoable, and all it
took was a bullet. The last, great, supposedly immortal Kinder eliminated with
a single shot. He probably thinks he’ll be a legend. He says, “Well, well,
well, Miss Caroline. That was rather anticlimactic, wasn’t it? We had reports
that the last one was hiding here, and I assumed that with her around, our task
would’ve been significantly harder.”

I try to spit in his face, but my
mouth is dry, and I do nothing more than blow flecks of spittle at him that get
lost in the rain.

“Typical, but expected. I can’t
blame you—I’ve been in your situation before, you see—but, that was also very
unladylike.”

“Do you think I care?”

“She seemed to have a keen interest
in
you
, my dear. You. A child. What was it she said? ‘And a girl shall
lead them.’ If she meant leading your people to their demise, then I suppose
she was right.” Captain Tanner looks around at all of the members of my
encampment on the ground, some face down, some staring at the sky. “Do you know
why we’re here?”

“Slaves.” Even the word tastes dirty
on my tongue.

“Bright girl. Either you have a gift
you don’t know about, or someone told you,” he says, studying Finn. “But it
doesn’t matter. Quite a waste, because all of these cold bodies would’ve served
well as workers. My men are hungry for blood, though, so I allowed them this
much.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I’m a teacher, actually. History. Girls
and boys your age. They don’t want to learn. They’re too interested in kissing
each other and fighting about who’s pretty and who’s not. The one thing I’d
love for them to learn is that history repeats itself. Are you familiar with
the Bible, Miss Caroline?”

I stare at him, unmoving. I’m
familiar with it, but not much. Grandfather had one, once, but he traded it
when I was younger for a pair of pants when I outgrew my old ones.

“There’s a passage in the Bible that
says, ‘Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.’ Couldn’t be
further from the truth, honestly. The repetition of history shows that the weak
bend to the strong, and I can assure you, your PRV will bow at our feet,
regardless of what that old woman thought about
you
. She was right about
one thing and wrong about another…we’ve brought the end with us, but tomorrow I
won’t remember your name or that you even existed. Private Conners, Private
Ogden, help them find out whether or not the Bible tells the truth.”

Captain Tanner whirls and commands
five soldiers to raid our homes, to take whatever they can find that’s usable,
then he orders the rest into the forest, to track down the runners and capture
them, to not waste any more good workers.

Finn and I are yanked around and
paraded through The Center. I don’t know where they’re taking us or why they
don’t simply get it over with right here.

We only make it a few feet before I
hear something whistling toward us. It doesn’t take long to recognize the hiss
of flying arrows.

Conners and Ogden are hit. They yelp
and grunt in pain.

They fall and let go. We’re free.

I recognize the gray shafts and
orange feathers of the arrows protruding from Conners and Ogden. They’re used
for hunting. The orange makes them easier to find if a shot sails wide in the
middle of the forest. I’ve seen them before, caught in bushes, poking out from
underneath a bed of leaves, and I know who uses them.

Republicons.

I hear the hiss of more arrows
speeding through the air, flying by our heads. I grab Finn’s arm and pull him
down with me, ducking under the assault. All around us, DAV soldiers are madly
firing into the surrounding forest. They don’t know what they’re aiming at,
they can’t see anything, and I can’t either. The arrows seem to appear from
nowhere and everywhere at once. They find their marks. Soldiers trip and fall,
flailing their arms, screaming. Some shoot wildly into the sky on their way
down.

Hawkins gets hit and drops. Clutching
his shoulder, holding the base of the arrow that penetrated deeply into it. He
whimpers, and I feel no compassion.

One by one, the DAV soldiers are eliminated.

All but Captain Tanner, who runs
like a coward, bent low, dodging the incoming volley, running in a crazy,
angular pattern. He disappears between two shacks, and for a moment, I consider
going after him, but he’s still armed, and now that I’m safe, I don’t want to
risk my life to end his. Not now. If this war continues, and I know it will,
I’ll find him one day. My revenge can wait.

The arrows stop. I cautiously stand
up, and Finn follows me. He’s holding his hands over his head as if he’s
expecting more to come flying at us, as if he thinks the soft flesh of his
hands will stop an arrowhead.

Republicons rescued us, and the idea
is such an incomprehensible one that I’m having difficulty understanding why. They’re
selfish, evil, ruthless, and the fact that they risked themselves to save two
children leaves me dumbfounded.

I stand by Finn’s side, surveying
the hills around our encampment, trying to spot them amongst the trees. I call
out, “Where are you?” and get no response.

We wait. Maybe a minute, maybe two.

I’m not sure of their intent. I
don’t want to run because I don’t know
where
to run. I’ve been afraid of
them for so long that the possibility of them genuinely saving us is the
farthest thing from my mind.

When a Republicon man walks out of
the woods, Finn takes my arm and leads me backward. “Who are they?” he asks,
and I forget that he doesn’t know about them, not unless he’s encountered these
vicious vagrants while he’s been sneaking through our woods. Maybe he’s seen
them, but he doesn’t know how dangerous they are.

“Republicons,” I whisper. “Thieves,
raiders...bad people.”

“Great. First the soldiers and now
these guys.”

The Republicon walking toward us is
the biggest man I’ve ever seen. Taller than Grandfather and heavier than
Hawkins. Not fat. Massive. He’s wearing ragged, dirty clothes. His long, dark
hair is pulled back to the base of his skull and tied there. The beard clinging
to his face is as big as a bush and sprinkled with gray. Intense blue eyes, but
they seem kind. Concerned.

He’s holding a bow in one hand and
lifts the other, palm down, patting the air. “I won’t hurt you,” he says.

I don’t want to believe him.

“Is that all of them?”

I tell him yes and hold my ground. When
he’s close, maybe ten feet away, I tell him to stop and stay where he is, and
surprisingly, he listens. A breeze rushes past us, and I smell his unwashed
stench, a mixture of old sweat and dirt.

“I know you,” he says. “I’ve seen
you in the woods before.”

“You have?”

“You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

“But you’re Republicons,” I say. “Why’d
you save us?”

He looks around at the empty shacks
and all the fallen members of our encampment. He shakes his head and sadly says,
“This land…it’s our home, too.”