Page 17 of The Godhead Complex
“I get it.” He slowed down and looked behind him, waited for the islanders and Roxy to catch up. Orange was the only one he trusted to go ahead of the group and not get herself killed or lost. He’d once seen her kill three rabid wolves that came at her from the woods without warning. Everyone thought she was a goner.
“Hey.” Orange dropped back. “Before they catch up . . .”
Minho didn’t hear Dominic’s obnoxious singing, so they had at least a few minutes. “Yeah?”
“You’re lying, right?” She placed the tip of her boot on the edge of a jagged rock as if to trace the blade of a knife.
Minho shook his head. “No. What’re you talking about?”
“About helping the Godhead? You’re going to Alaska to end them, right?” Orange’s eyes might as well have been question marks.
Minho’s teeth clenched with the pressure of betrayal. He forgot aboutthatlie, and he couldn’t tell his fellow Orphan the truth. He had to let her believe that he lied to the islanders and not her.
“I promised I’d get them to Alaska,” he replied vaguely. Never mind that his goal was tojointhe Godhead, not destroy them as they’d been conditioned from birth. Orange would probably kill him quicker than she’d dispatched those wolves if she found out. “After that, we can figure out a plan.”
“Hmm. I figured you’d have a plan. Just checking.” She sounded suspicious, but oh well, he thought. She looked up to the trees and pointed at a sparrow landing on its nest with food in its beak. Back in the Remnant Nation she would’ve used that momma bird and baby for target practice. Was she trying to send a message? Returning her attention to Minho, she asked, “You ever wonder about your mom? Who birthed us?”
“Not really.” It was the second lie he’d spoken in the last ten minutes. Not only did he think about his past family sometimes, he thought about them all the time. In the periphery of his mind. The Grief Bearers had drilled into them that they were orphans.You have no family. You have no friends. You have no name. Only Enemies.And by constantly telling him that he had no family, Minho knew he’d had one. He imagined them all the time.
“Animals were meant to raise their own. We weren’t created in a lab, manufactured to grow up and protect their walls, right? Someone birthed us.” She glanced back over her shoulder as if she didn’t really think he was listening.
Minho thought about the birds again. If they were bigger, like pigeons or doves, he would’ve shot them for dinner but they were barely worth a bite of meat. “Birthed us, yeah, then they were thrown into the Flare pits. Great thing to talk about.” That’s what they’d been told, anyway. But of course, rumors always tiptoed their way around the Orphan barracks.
“But did you ever wonder, what if your parents aren’t dead?” A quirky smile spread across Orange’s face as if she knew something he didn’t.
“No. I never wondered that.” He placed the thought up there right along with Orange believing in some kind of massively organized Crank Army. It was silly, naive. Unfounded. Thankfully, the roar of the ocean had grown louder and the salt in the air had intensified, meaning this conversation could be over soon.
“Hear me out,” she continued. “What if the Grief Bearer who raised you was your dad? What if they wore those hooded cloaks to hide how much we look like them?”
Minho had the slightest notion that someone on the planet might be related to him. Especially Griever Glane. Orange was full of wild ideas. “Well, if he was . . . he’s dead now.”
Roxy came into view with Miyoko, soon followed by the rest of the group. Minho started walking again, alongside Orange, and their movement caused the bird to fly away. “What made you think up this, anyway?” he asked.
“Because if they lied to us about one thing, who’s to say they didn’t lie about more?” She was right, nothing outside of Remnant Nation had turned out quite like he’d expected. Minho looked around at the vast openness of nature, the trees, the animals, the sky, the clouds. Peaceful. Their whole lives they’d been warned about the the outside, but the only real threat since leaving the Remnant Nation wasfromthe Remnant Nation. They’d seen few Cranks in the wild, and the most dangerous thing about the islanders were Dominic’s various unsavory habits.
“You think you have parents that are still alive?” Minho asked.
“Me? No. Ever seen anyone with hair like this? Me neither.” She walked over rocks that grew bigger and bigger. “But Skinny and I used to joke that maybe we were related because we both had the same birthmark.”
“Really? Let me see.”
She showed him the thin smear of ropy, white skin on the outside of her elbow. “His was exactly the same, but maybe it’s just a scar from some lovely childhood torture. Like the ropes.”
Minho remembered. The Grief Bearers hung them by the arms until they were all pins and needles, almost numb. Then they’d lower them, hand over a gun, order them to shoot at targets, which faced each other in a zigzag pattern, only feet apart. Missing a target meant hitting another Orphan.
Minho examined the birthmark again. “Doesn’t really look like a scar. Maybe you were born with it.”
“Well, whatever. I like to think it matched because we were family somehow.”
He saw a familiar look in her eyes. That feeling of trying to replace the complete abandonment that came with being an Orphan. “Maybe you were.” The problem was, the abandonment had no name, had no face, only had a feeling. And that feeling was present in everything. Minho instinctively checked his own elbow, but no birthmark or scar.
Time to move on, he thought.
Luckily Orange did just that. “So after we find the boat we’ll hunt for supplies. A week’s worth for ten people is—”
“Seven.” Minho rubbed at his elbow. “There’s only going to be seven.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” As soon as she asked, Minho realized that hedidtrust Orange or he wouldn't have said anything.Maybe he could trust her with his secret after all.
