Page 67 of The Infinite Glade
She shook her head. He knew it was a dumb question.
“Where are we going?” Miyoko asked. Erros skipped handing her anything to carry and instead gave the next box to Ximena.
“The cliffs,” Cian said confidently. Isaac and Jackie both looked at Old Man Frypan, and he shrugged.
“Then what?” Jackie asked.
“Wait for the Senate to greet us.” Shockingly, he seemed annoyed by Jackie just like everything else. But there were still a lot of unanswered questions and hers had been a good one.
Isaac thought about Sadina’s mom and the Senate back home. How they never agreed at all on how to handle Kletter and what she’d wanted. It was the first issue he’d witnessed that divided the Senate so much.
“Frypan,” Isaac said as he shifted the box in his hands, “how come you never joined the Senate back home?”
“Yeah, you’re the smartest person we know and everyone respects you,” Jackie added.
Frypan smiled. “Aw shuck, I don’t know about all that, now.”
“It’s true,” Miyoko agreed with a smile. “And you obviously very well know it. But what are we doing right now? There’s no one here.” She scanned the secluded land around the crimson lake, rocky and flat all the way to the cliffs. “Didn’t you say we were meeting someone?”
Cian looked at Isaac disappointedly, as if he were actually supposed to have filled her in on things, somewhere between finding Kletter’s logbook and finding Trish’s body.
“They’re supposedly underground,” Isaac mumbled to Miyoko. The whole thing still seemed totally absurd and fantastical to him. “They were part of the original plans of WICKED, or before WICKED, something. I don’t really know how to explain it. Mainly because I don’t know what the hell is going on, either.”
“My family, well . . .” Frypan looked at Jackie, “people whomightbe my family, are around here somewhere. Supposedly, like Isaac said.”
“They’re here, don’t worry.” Erros continued to organize supplies and button up the Berg. “And if not, then not much matters anymore, anyway. Maybe one of us should stay and watch the equipment.”
“Bullshit, you’re just scared.” Cian smacked his brother playfully before lifting the air container and shoving it into Erros’ chest. “Come on, then.” He began to lead the way around the lake, heading toward the tall cliffs of granite. “No one’s going to find us here.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” someone muttered.
Isaac didn’t catch who.
Orange’s singing stopped all at once, as if it had never even happened. There were no lingering echoes. Death had to be playing tricks on him. Guilt and regret must have also overwhelmed his moments of peace because he was pretty sure the shadowy figure in front of him had just said his name was Kit. But it couldn’t be. Impossible.
“Kit?” Minho coughed out. “Am I dead?”
“Roll on to your side and I’ll cut your combat ties.”
Only soldiers called them that.Minho rolled over and coughed some more until his arms fell freely to his side. “Kit . . .” He lifted his head. “Orange?” His vision was blurry but it looked like only the fire remained. No soldiers—none standing, anyway. Piles of them scattered the ground, however. What on earth had happened?
“Oh, you’re worse than I thought.” Orange. It was Orange! Best death-faker in history. Her voice came through clearly until she turned around to speak to someone else. “Gather what we can. Quick.”
“Orange . . .” Minho had so much he wanted to say, but he could barely say her name. He rubbed his shoulder and somehow got himself to his knees, pain ripping through his every inch. “Kit . . . ?” He shook his head and tried to wipe the gasoline and blood out of his eyes, but he couldn’t lift his arm well enough. His shoulder had broken in at least one place, maybe two. “What . . . ?”
“Just relax,” Orange said. “Turns out a lot more Orphans were on our side than the Grief Bearers. Didn’t take much to finally turn them. So relax. We have some time till others come into the Maze to find us.” Minho heard the clicking and stacking of weapons as Orange shuffled around to pick off the dead soldiers. Seemed likedidn’t take muchhadn’t been the most accurate of descriptions. A major understatement, in fact.
He coughed for the millionth time, his lungs fighting for their next breath. “What happened?” All he remembered was feeling like he was back on theMaze Cutter, in the open ocean, with Orange singing him to sleep. And then silence. “Did I black out . . . what happened?”
“Traitors got tortured, that’s what happened.” Orange clacked rounds of bullets into a gun. “And this kid was about to be next on their torture buffet for whatever he did.” She snapped and clicked another weapon. “Whatdidyou do, kid?”
“It’sKit, not kid,” the boy said, lifting the straps of weapons on to his shoulders.
Minho coughed until he laughed. “Kit, you really remember me? I stopped your beating in Hell, you were . . . you were . . .” He struggled to find the words after so many boots to his brain.
“Almost as beaten up as you are right now,” Kit said, nodding his head. “Of course I remember you. I’ll never forget. Good to see you, brother. It’s an honor to know your name, now.”
Minho, overwhelmed with emotions, could only say three words. “Orange . . . Kit’s alive.” He tried to stand but fell back into the wall of the Maze. Orange helped him situate his legs and feet under himself.
