Page 1 of The Infinite Glade
PROLOGUE
Voice of the Sea
Annie Kletter steered her battered ship through a harsh and unforgiving ocean. An ocean that seemed endless and angry, the devilish sun constantly glinting off its peaks and troughs and slopes, each and every one a piercing of her sight. Of all things, an octopus clung to the hull of theMaze Cutteras waves pummeled the starboard side. Kletter had sympathy for the creature. She, too, had tried to escape her home.
This trip was her last chance.
Find the Immunes.
Find the missing pieces. Finally free every last person from the depths of the Flare, that century-old virus that had wreaked havoc across the decades. Madness and death. Death, death, death, so much death. And the virus was changing. Always changing.
“You’ve got to steerintothe waves!” Kletter’s first mate, Juan, shouted only inches away from her face. Sea spray mixed with his words.
“Haz algo!” the rest of the crew cried.
Kletter gripped the captain’s wheel harder. She didn’t need their constant opinions and shouts.
A dark storm hovered to the west, approaching quickly, the force of its winds already a great disturbance upon the vast water. Storms in the open ocean were unforgiving, but not as unforgiving as the Villagers. They were watching her every move. Every failure. She only needed them along for the ride to help convince the Immunes of the importance of their mission. The Villagers’ desperation for a Cure might be the tipping point, to ensure the elders of the island to give consent, to send their most prized possessions back with her to the Villa.Tell them of the Village where no babies have been born for decades, and they’ll send you their own children happily.
What an easy thing to say, to speculate, to sound philosophical.
But the truth burned Kletter from the inside out.
The truth of everything ate away at her, as unforgiving as this bastard of a sea.
Another squall of waves crashed upon theMaze Cutter; the Village crew had trouble staying on their feet. Kletter’s legs were tired, so tired, beyond fatigued from the constantly rocking ship, her arms exhausted from steering into the calm spots of the ocean while increasing speed of the throttle. The storm was picking up its pace and ferocity. Soon, the sun would be swallowed by clouds.
Yes, she steered the ship.
The captain.
But she wasn’t the onein control.
She never had been and she knew it very well.
No use running from the storm anymore. Kletter finally hit the waves head-on and went toward the darkness, into the beast. Things got worse—gales and roar and spray, constant braying from her companions—and then things got better. The storm wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d thought. The winds calmed and theMaze Cuttereased back into the natural, soothing, up-and-down rhythms of the ocean instead of being swept away. Kletter’s knees steadied under her with more strength as she put the boat in idle, gathering herself. But as soon as the rocking of the boat stilled, the crew grew even more irritated. They’d been low on food for days. Kletter walked over to calm them down: “Tranquilos.”
“You keep saying that, but the days go by and we’re not seeing any island,” a woman named Edita said. Kletter had spent years traveling back and forth from the Villa studying Edita and her daughter Ximena. They were a complete anomaly.
Another crew woman stepped forward holding her belly as if she were pregnant, but no one from their village would ever be pregnant again. “What about us? You’ve given us hardly any rice these past two days. Tenemos hambre.”
“La comida,” Kletter said, and pointed to the octopus. “We’ll be there soon.”
“She’s lying.” Edita challenged Kletter in a way that only someone who’s DNA challenged genetic codes could. Kletter preferred Edita behind a glass pod with her voice muted.
Kletter’s joints were weak, her ankles in pain from standing at the captain’s wheel for so long, but she stepped forward with confidence. The worst of the darkest clouds were moving on, a sign perhaps. “You’ll survive.” It wasn’t a question or an option. Theyhadto make it to the Immunes.
“She’s lying,” Edita shouted back to the others. “This isn’t surviving!”
“You’ll be fine!” Kletter raised her voice, walking over to Edita. “We’llgetto the Immunes!” With one swift motion Kletter lifted her knife, reached over the railing of the boat, and stabbed the poor little octopus clinging to the hull. It wiggled and writhed. Kletter stabbed it again and again until its tentacles loosened and went limp. “There . . . dinner.” Kletter flung the sea creature at Edita’s feet.
“I couldn’t see it until today . . .” Edita lacked any emotion as she spoke to the others, “I have no visions past this boat.” The woman lowered her voice but kept speaking. Kletter’s shoulders tensed. She absolutely hated it when the Villagers claimed these visions. In the decade or so Annie Kletter had been visiting the Villagers, studying them, testing them, none ever knew the real reasons behind it all. Or why she wanted to help them in the first place. If Edita had any sort of ability, she would have envisionedthat, surely.
Visions. Nonsense.
“You’re all going to be fine. You’ll see.” Visions were a part of the Villager’s faith but only until that faith turned to fear. Kletter motioned to Juan. “Let’s divvy some more rice to go with the octopus, eh?”
Juan nodded and let go of the captain’s wheel. “How much?” he asked. “There isn’t . . .”
