Page 61 of The Godhead Complex
She grilled the boy standing in front of her, needing the total truth about Annie. “Was she with a group of people when you met her or not?” Deep down in the middle of her bones she knew that her mom was dead, but within the center of her heart remained the smallest bit of hope.
“I . . . I don’t . . . know . . .” The young man’s eyes darted to the two others in the room, the old geezer and the sick lady, but Ximena had heard disappointing news from adults her entire life. She wanted to hear this from the boy.
“Youdoknow.” It couldn’t be more obvious that he was lying. Weakness. The immune’s blood might have been strong, but the rest of his body was weak. His eyes were tired, wounded, like whatever he’d seen wasn’t something he ever wanted to say out loud. There was no way he’d killed Annie. Ximena put the knife back in her pocket. She softened. “What’s your name?”
“About time someone asked. I’m Isaac. And that’s Frypan, and this is Ms. Cowan.”
“Isaac.” Ximena slowed down her words, “I need to know where they are. The people who were with Annie Kletter. Can you tell me that?”
He nodded, almost looking relieved.
“They’re on our island back home,” he said softly, and Ximena allowed herself the slightest sense of relief. Of course her mom and Mariana wouldn’t want to come home from the island, with so much to study and learn from the immunes. Absent-minded Annie didn’t leave them behind—theychoseto stay.
Ximena looked back to the old man, named Frypan of all things. He had a strange look in his eyes. “What? What is it?” she asked. The Cowan woman coughed. They all avoided Ximena’s stare as if they knew howdifferentshe was. A uniqueness that her mother calledspecial, but Ximena felt differently. Every time she met someone outside her village and they learned the truth about her, they ignored her, stayed away from her. “Did my mom tell you about me?”
“What is your name, dear?” The sick lady asked, and Ximena realized she hadn’t told them yet. Not that it mattered; they’d never see each other again after today.
“Ximena.”
“What a beautiful name.” Ms. Cowan coughed. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but . . .”
“The boat, when it came in . . .” Isaac continued, and Ximena froze. Anything that started with an apology and needed two people to explain wasn’t good. She gazed into each of their weak, tired eyes. The old man returned a look of sincere sympathy, as if he’d seen all the worst things the world had to offer during his long life, and that he was sorry for it all.
She shook her head, wanting to deny it.
The omen of the dead, blackened jackrabbits.
Her premonitions.
Despite already knowing the truth, she couldn’t stop shaking her head.
Frypan stepped forward and put his hand gently on her elbow. “They didn’t suffer.” He said it in a way only someone who’d lost a loved one could. Or many loved ones.
Ximena started to cry before she heard the how and the why of it all.Her mom was gone.She wiped at her eyes, promising her Abuela that she would find the truth. She owed it to her whole village, and it all started with these islanders. “Get in the pods. One each.” She motioned with the keys in her hand.
“We’re really sorry,” Isaac said.
But could he possibly know what it felt like to lose a parent? To not get to say goodbye? She doubted it. “Get in the pod,” she ordered, refusing to look him in the eye.
Trees. Mountains. Rocky cliffs.
Air almost as chilled as the water crashing ashore.
Alaska.
TheMaze Cutteranchored inside a small bay with a rough bump that jolted Sadina. Trish helped her gather their stuff; Miyoko and Dominic got the rest. “Should we bring the other palm mats too?” Miyoko asked.
Minho snapped his answer. “Nope. Only what you need to survive. Bags, food, weapons.”
Sadina tuckedThe Book of Newtinto her satchel. “We don’t need weapons.”
As if her very words triggered the entire changing of the world, the skies darkened. Above them, approaching from the wooded horizon inland, were six Bergs. Bergs!Sixof them. Then the sound caught up, shaking the air and the land, rocking the boat. It had all happened so fast.
“What’s happening?!” Miyoko shouted, directed at Minho, dropping the palm mats she’d been defying orders to bring.
“Shit!” was the Orphan’s reply. He grabbed his armory bag. “Orange!” He motioned something to his longtime companion, a sign language that Sadina didn’t understand.
“Do you know who that is, son?” Roxy asked. “Last time we saw those things, it wasn’t good.”
