Page 6 of The Godhead Complex
“Don’t be an idiot.” Alexandra dismissed his fear.
“I’m scared there will be more Hollowings tonight.” Flint stood at the doorway, neither in nor out—exactly how he acted within life—teetering on the edge of faith or fear. Alexandra had no time for teetering. The Evolution was finally, after years of pause, upon them. “Nicholas should calm the people and—”
She cut Flint off, “Iwill calm the people. Tell the Pilgrims their Goddess will address them tomorrow and that if any Hollowings take place tonight, I’ll see that the sacrificers are the next to be sacrificed. Can you handle that?”
He nodded. He bowed. He left.
Alexandra ripped the cover from Nicholas’ box.
“Enjoy the view.”
CHAPTERTWO
Kindling & Kin
Achill in the air shivered her awake. She tried fixing the grass mat Trish had made her but she couldn’t get comfortable. Her family’s lineage from Sonya had never felt like a burden before; at times on the island she had felt admired and special, even protected—but none of those feelings seemed to follow her on their journey to the mainland.
Ever since the group arrived, Sadina had felt unsafe, vulnerable, like her own life was at risk of being extinguished before discovering why her family’s DNA could help.And maybe if more of her ancestral bloodline had been alive, the pressure could have been spread out among others—brothers, sisters, cousins—but Sadina was the only child, just like her parents. Sadina slowly and quietly stood up from her makeshift sleeping spot next to Trish and moved closer to the fire. She walked past her mom, Old Man Frypan, and Minho, all still snoozing. Minho slept with his boots on. Orphan soldiers did weird things.
Sadina sat cross-legged on the ground closest to the fire and rubbed her temples as she looked into the dying flames. A rustle in the trees to the left startled her. She looked back to the sleeping bodies and counted shadows, then felt beside her for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Her right hand found a rock; she held her breath and listened as the rustling grew.What was that?An animal, maybe? But how big? Minho had told stories of the animals they hunted where he came from. Animals bigger than anything they had on their island, and Isaac had told stories of the strength it took to kill the half-Cranks. Sadina wasn’t sure she could kill anything bigger than a spider; she never had a reason to before. What if she was forced to crunch the life out of something under her own weight? The disturbance grew louder and closer. Sadina looked at Minho’s boots and thought the best thing to do with the rock she’d grabbed might be to throw it at Minho and wake him up. He had guns, knives, and if things got really bad he had some kind of ancient artillery that blew up when you pulled a pin from it. Sadina tensed when a dark tall shadow, hunched over in shape emerged from the tree line. Sadina’s eyes widened to take in as many details as they could, but the dying fire made it hard to see more than the outline of a person holding something long and thin. A weapon. She was sure of it. Her heart filled with all of its special blood and beat faster and faster until she realized that her fear had gotten the best of her.
“Don’t mind me.” The whispered words floated in the air and the shadow stepped closer to her. “Just taking my hourly piss and feeding the fire.” Old Man Frypan’s image came into focus before her tired brain could identify his voice.
“Oh Shuck, you scared me.” Sadina exhaled and dropped the rock beside her.
“Nice. And I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Too anxious about Alaska.”
“Imagine my excitement.” Frypan broke a stick in two and leaned both halves on top of the dying fire. It didn’t take long for the flames to catch on, flickering to bright life.
“Sorry.” Sadina didn’t know what else to say. “I’ve heard all the Glader stories of old, but to be honest, they always felt more like history lessons and not real life until I saw that first Crank.”
“The Cranks . . .” he scoffed, “They ain’t nuthin’ to hardly worry about. Time did what they could with the Cranks, the people though. . . . They’re the ones you have to watch out for.”
Sadina pulled her knees to her chest. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean . . . how do I say this . . .” Frypan pulled up a log to sit next to her and shifted his weight in thought. “The island has been a safe place, a safe haven, for many, many years. Those born there in that safety, they don’t know the evil that existed, that still exists, in the outside world. Which is good, it’s the whole point of the safe haven—but what I mean is . . .”
“You’re talking about the people at the Villa?”
“I don’t know if the people in the Villa are good people or bad people. I just know that they don’t know us as well as we know each other. And we don’t know what motivations they might have.” Frypan’s voice was somehow stronger in a whisper. “Or the motivations of The Godhead.”
“If they really want to cure the Flare, that can only be good, right?”
“Ava Paige wanted to cure the Flare, too.” He said it with the utmost spite.
“Just like anything, I guess. Someone’s motivations can be good but their actions could be bad. Or their motivations could change . . .” Sadina looked up to the stars and tried to find the biggest one. There was no way she could fall back asleep thinking about all this now.What if the Godhead had good motivations but bad plans to execute?Just like her mom had the best of intentions by holding the vote but the act of “democracy” ruined the vibe in their group.
“Everyone from here to the great beyond has motivations, and when you meet someone—try to meet their motivations as well. See if you can figure them out.” Old Man Frypan tossed another twig into the fire. “See, Cranks don’t scare me anymore because they can’t think past their primal urges. People, though . . . people are manipulative, motivated by power, greed, and things you and I aren’t capable of.”
Sadina wished things could be black or white—the cure or no cure—she hated all this gray area where people like Ava Paige lived. “Do you think I was an idiot to vote for Alaska?”
“No.” The old man answered her almost too quickly for her to believe it.
“Am I being naive to trust the two people who kidnapped me?” She asked, hoping for a more honest answer, even as she realized how ridiculous the question was in the first place.
“I can’t tell you who to trust.” He said it gently and slowly like her grandmother Sonya spoke. The elders had a way of speaking that made the words themselves hold more weight. All their life experiences stood behind those words and made them feel heavy.
