Page 51 of The Infinite Glade
Saving the Immunes will save the human race.
Only runners can survive the maze.
Run to save the others.
—The Book of Newt
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Shoot then Loot
Alarge makeshift prison took up most of the interior of the Nation’s Berg.
Probably what the Grief Bearers had used to chain up and haul the Crank Army.
The Remnant soldiers tossed Orange into a rusted cage inside the Berg first; her body crumpled into the corner. They carried Minho into the same cage; he stopped kicking once they let him get his feet beneath him again. One quick shove and his face met the floor of the caged unit. It smelled like piss.
“Defectors!” A soldier with ears too big for his body smashed his foot down on to Orange’s head. Minho held his breath, waiting for the same to be done to him. Instead, another soldier stepped forward—with boots as outsized as the other’s ears—and stomped on Orange’s head even harder than the last soldier. Minho cringed, stopped himself from crying out. It was as if he’d felt the pain himself.
If his hands weren’t combat-tied behind his back, he would have punched them all, no matter the consequences. Complaining would only make things worse. It killed him inside to not do anything, but he knew it was the only way he could help Orange even a little. Each of the four Orphan soldiers turned their attention to him, taking turns kicking his torso. Three targeted his ribs and when he rolled over one of them stabbed his kidney with a boot-toe. He let his body go limp to appear weak and defeated, but mostly to let part of his arm fall on top of Orange’s to check the skin of her neck to make sure it still felt warm.
Orange didn’t make a sound.
She was alive, but Minho didn’t know for how much longer. But did it matter. As a traitor, the Remnant Nation would torture them both to death either way, so what if it came quickly or took weeks? His heart pinched with every breath; he prepared himself to slowly lose the use of his lungs with more cracked ribs.
Screams from outside the Berg stole Minho’s attention.
A gunshot.
Then another.
Silence the enemy. Kill on sight.It was the Remnant Nation way.Shoot then loot.
He lifted his body off the ground just enough to vomit next to Orange. He tried to hold it in, but he couldn’t. Not after the sound of those gunshots. Close range. Execution-style. He wished he’d never met Roxy and the islanders. His stomach and his eyes stung from it all. He regretted every second of his time with them, despite the deep love he’d felt, actually having what people called a family. But he regretted it all the more so.
Because if they’d never met him, the Orphan named Minho, every last one of them would still be alive.
The Goddess hadn’t made it very far into the woods before a small group of soldiers had grabbed her, then dragged her along the bumpy, brush-strewn ground like the Pilgrim she appeared to be. Everything inside of her wanted to shout at them toget their hands off of her,didn’t they know who she was, but she kept her composure and stayed silent. She’d hide her identity until she could escape.
“This one stinks.” The soldiers pushed her in line to stand with the others. If they thought she stank, it was because they had no idea what herbs and florals a Goddess could afford.
The sound of a body-sized splash into the unforgiving waters nearby made Alexandra’s whole body weaken.
“You shot them!” Roxy cried.
The hood of Alexandra’s cloak covered her head too tightly to see who the soldiers had shot and thrown into the waters. The Goddess waited to hear Sadina,Dear Sadina,somewhere beside or behind her, but the islanders went silent except for Roxy. Not even Trish’s cries of panic or Dominic’s mouth-breathing lingered within earshot.
“Keep quiet or we’llmakeyou quiet.” The soldier turned from the waters of Alaska. What a fool to not realize what he had done. The Evolution be damned. Alexandra recited the digits and the Flaring Discipline.
Soldiers pushed her forward again, stepped on her cloak. It pained her to not correct them, to demand they treat her with respect. But even she had survival instincts and the hidden humility to act on them. She kept her eyes pointed down, lowered her head, so that her hood covered as much of her face as possible. They didn’t deserve a glimpse of the one true Goddess.
“Put them in the cage with the two defectors,” an older man said; he wore a cloak similar to Mikhail’s. No matter how many soldiers Mikhail sent, no matter how hard he’d tried to remove her from power, she remained the one and only Godhead. She would forever be the One, and shewouldusher in a new Evolution. It didn’t matter how many orphans Mikhail and the Nation had trained—she would find a way to turn them all to her side.
In time, they would all be her Pilgrims.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Piss and Ash
