Page 57 of The Infinite Glade
“A lot of good that does us.” Isaac waited for Cian’s face to reveal something about the journal, but his face remained blank.
“It’s in Spanish,” Cian said to Erros. “Kletter and her damn linguistics.”
Erros motioned to Ximena. “You can read it.” He stepped closer to her. “You can. I’ve heard you say a few things in that language, mostly under your breath.” Ximena looked like she wanted nothing to do with any thing that had belonged to Kletter, but the look in Erros’ eyes was almost threatening. “Read it,” he said again, forcefully.
She took the small notebook and flipped through the pages as Isaac had done. He hoped Kletter wasn’t dumb enough to log details for the day she’d killed Ximena’s mom and the other crew members. Even though Ximena deserved to know what happened. But if Kletter did write about poisoning and shooting her mom, after everything Isaac had learned about Annie Kletter, he doubted her version of events could be trusted as accurate.
Erros and Cian both crowded behind Ximena’s shoulders as she tried to read the log book. Her lips moved without sound and her eyes darted as she flipped pages.
Miyoko paced in a tight space. “We need to find where the Remnant Nation took Sadina, Trish, Dom . . . everyone.”
“How would we even begin to find them?” Isaac asked. He had such mixed feelings—thrilled to know they were alive, but no closer to seeing them safe and sound. Further, perhaps.
Cian shook his head. “It doesn’t matterwherethey took them. The Remnant Nation doesn’t keep prisoners of war for very long.”
“So, they’ll let them go then?” Miyoko asked with such innocent hope that it was heartbreaking to hear.
Ximena exhaled in a way that prepared Isaac to hear yet again aboutHow the islanders were all naive.But for the first time since meeting her, Isaac had to agree. She looked up at Isaac from the notebook with knowing eyes, and a simple glance confirmed it.Ximena knew what Cian meant.
“They’ll just let them go?” Miyoko asked again.
Isaac turned to see the same look in Frypan’s eyes.He knew what Cian meant, too.But Isaac couldn’t betray his heart to say it out loud.Sadina and the others were as good as dead.He had lived through losing his entire family. But not Sadina. Please, not Sadina.
He couldn’t lose her, too.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Senado de los Secuenciadores
Orphans are born motherless. Penniless. Powerless.
The only way for an Orphan soldier to advance is to enter into the initiation of the Remnant as a Junior Grief Bearer, but even as a young soldier watching Griever Glane, Minho never wanted to be like any of them. They were seasoned losers. Weaker than even some of the youngest soldiers. Because while leaders like Griever Glane had power and handed out punishments, they grew lazy with that power.
Orphans were trained to fight. Protect the Nation. Kill the Godhead.
And it finally came time for Minho to do all three.
As the Remnant soldiers pushed him off the Berg, the relief Minho felt at realizing they weren’t going to the depths of tortured Hell in the fortress were immediately replaced by the suffocating smell of sulfur and ash. It was another smell Minho knew well, and one he tried not to think about. The smell of burning flesh.
He lifted his head and tried to see through swollen eyes. The army of Remnants had set up hundreds of fires in makeshift camps that stretched for miles. Remnant snipers stood watch on top of any buildings still standing. The Nation had already set up posts and lookouts to protect the ruins of what used to be the City of Gods, and the Orphan soldiers were all too happy to drag Minho and a barely conscious Orange in front of the Grief Bearers to present them as the traitors they were.
Minho didn’t bother twisting or kicking; the sounds of the Nation and the sheer quantity of soldiers around him well signaled his defeat. He only turned his head as best he could, past the soldiers who beat him and carried him forward, to see if they were separating him from Roxy, Dominic, and Sadina.
“Griever Ayers, Sir.” The soldiers dropped Minho on to the ground with a thud and kicked his back to flip him forward-facing to the Bearers. They also kicked the back of Orange’s knees to bend her body to a bow.
Minho looked at the Grief Bearer in front of him. He knew better than to look any Bearer in the eyes, but what were they going to do if he did—kill him?So he did. His jaw clenched as he stared deeply into Griever Ayers’ dark, soulless eyes. An anxious spirit of rebellion rose inside him the exact same way it had the day of his cliff ceremony. But today would be different.
“There aren’t any mountaintops to throw me from.” Minho squinted.
The Grief Bearer rubbed his little hands together like a man that had waited his whole life to play with fire. “We’ll shove you off the only cliff that matters.” The Bearer showed his teeth, but it wasn’t a smile. “The one in your mind.”
Griever Ayers was right. More painful than the stabbing in Minho’s chest, the Orphan admitted to himself that the cliff in his mind held the most danger. Orange had known that when she’d told him toget off that wall in his mindback on theMaze Cutter.He looked over at a lifeless Orange before realizing he shouldn’t have. A kick to the back of her head confirmed it.
The Orphan named Minho knew his life would end at the hands of the Remnants, one way or another, and he wasn’t going to waste his death. “You’ve destroyed this whole town, probably killed thousands,” Minho said as he looked past Griever Ayers, “but what’s really gotta chap your ass is the fact that the one person you came here to kill . . . you’ve barely managed to inconvenience.”
He let out what sounded like a pathetic chuckle and then a sudden burst of air as a soldier kicked the back of his head then stomped on his kidney. But he wasn’t done taunting them. Not yet. “In fact, you’ve led the Godhead to theone thingthey were looking for, what they needed to complete their ridiculous Evolution.” The Orphan let his pain and nerves escape him through another laugh, a sound the Grief Bearers hated most. Minho was pleased with himself—even the boot to his back felt damn good.
“What makes you say that?” Griever Ayers asked. “Speak, boy!”
