Page 23 of The Infinite Glade
“Yes, they do. Everyone deserves to know the truth, and it feels good to get it all out.” Erros spit a fish bone into the fire. The man seemed to have a bottomless stomach. “I don’t know. What does it matter?” He held his hands up to his older brother. “Nothing matters anymore.”
“Just tell us why you destroyed WICKED,” Jackie demanded. “What that even means.”
Isaac posed a question. “I thought the Villa was part of WICKED? The Villa wants to find a Cure, right?” He felt stupid asking about the Villa, but if Cian and Erros thought they destroyed WICKED in order to destroy the Cure, then they were plain wrong. Who knew how many Villas were out there, little variations of WICKED, all trying to find a Cure. Ximena shot Isaac a look as she hugged the backpack that held the supposed Cure in her lap.Crap. Maybe he’d said too much.
“The Villa is to WICKED now as WICKED was to the Post Flare Coalition back then,” Cian said, but Isaac didn’t really understand what that meant so he looked to Old Man Frypan to elaborate.
“Do you understand what they’re saying?” Jackie whispered to Isaac.
“A little?” Isaac whispered back.
Frypan tossed his own fish bones into the fire; the fat left on the bones sizzled in the night. Frypan usually saved bones—any kind of bones—for a broth.
“Frypan, you alright?” Isaac asked.
“The Post Flare Coalition did their best. They could have donebetter, but it’s not like theycausedthe sun flares themselves.” Frypan’s eyes seemed to stare into the very past. “The worst thing man ever created was the Flare virus and?—”
“And the second worst thing man ever created was WICKED.” Cian actually laughed, making Isaac cringe.
“No. You’re wrong there,” Frypan argued. “WICKED hadgoodintentions, no matter the terrible things they did to us.” He gripped his walking stick and stood up as fast as any old man could stand. “Look, we thank you for the meal, it’s much appreciated, but we’re not going to sit here and listen to these lies.”
He walked past Isaac, Jackie, and Ximena.Damn.Sitting around the fire had kept Isaac’s mind from racing with questions about Sadina and the others not being safe with the Godhead. He didn’t want to leave, and not just because his leg hurt and he didn’t want to walk yet. And he wanted to hear whatever Cian and Erros had to say. Even if theywerespewing lies, he wanted to know what theythoughtthey’d destroyed and what Kletter’s real mission had been. Even if it all was based on false hopes or information, it was the reason Kletter took everyone off the island.
“Wait . . .” Isaac called after Frypan but the old man had already left the light of the fire. Isaac looked at Jackie, but she quickly shrugged and turned away in a rush to join him.
Isaac begrudgingly limped in the direction they headed, into the dark where the Hollower came from. “C’mon, Ximena . . .” He tried to put as little weight as possible on his right leg, but it hurt like hell.
Cian waved a hand at Isaac. “Fine. Believe whatever you want to believe.”
“Wiping your memories and torturing you in that Maze wasgood?” Erros shouted loudly after Frypan. “Separating you from your family wasgood?”
Jackie turned around and shouted back, “They sacrificed a few to save the many. At the heart of their mission—they were good!”
Questioning WICKED meant questioning Isaac’s entire life, especially the entire reason for his existence, his parents and grandparents. Of course it was extremely complicated, but the islanders had been taught from the time they could run in the sand a certain phrase.
WICKED is good.WICKED is good. WICKED is good.
“STOP!” Ximena screamed as if she knew what Isaac was thinking. But her voice came from way back by the fire.
“Ximena?” Isaac turned back around to the flickers of Cian’s fire, and Ximena’s shadow stood the same height as a sitting Erros, the outline of a crossbow at her shoulders. The crossbow itself was practically half the size of Ximena but she held it up high. “We know you’re hiding something. Tell us the truth, now.” The point of the arrow was only inches from the man’s head. “Or I’ll shoot your little brother right in the neck. The same artery where you shot that no-good coyote.”
“Cian . . .” Erros said in a surprising panicky voice.
“Frypan!” Isaac called ahead. “We need to go back!”
Like it or not, they needed to go back.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Righteous Anger
The sun was setting, its golden glow spreading across the water.
Minho steered theMaze Cutteraway from the coast and out as far away from the city and the eyes of the Remnant Nation as he could. In less than an hour they’d be under a blanket of darkness and free from the eyes of all enemies, and safe from the war. These Alaskan mountains, the trees, even the water of the ocean—it was all so different from the flat, barren landscape of the Remnant Nation and its fortress. He wondered how the Nation of soldiers would find out that their Great Master was dead. Maybe they’d never know. After all, no one ever saw his face and they were far from the Golden Room of Grief.
“It’s a short trip.” Alexandra startled him from behind. “We’ll get there before dark.” She smiled. Where he’d come from, Minho had rarely seen cheeks raised, teeth gleaming. But he still knew Alexandra’s smile was fake.
He would take every opportunity he had to call the phony Goddess out. “Short trip, huh? It would be even shorter with a Berg.” He spoke each word as if it were a bullet coming out of a gun—rapid, separate shots.
