***
An hour later we stopped at a stream to refill our canteens. I was sweaty, sore, and out of breath.
Sarafina seemed dazed, her eyes unfocused as she crouched down and dipped her canteen in the water. Tracks of dried tears lined her soiled cheeks. Timmy hadn’t caught up as he’d promised. We’d heard gunshots at first, each one twisting my stomach. A few minutes had passed and there’d been more shots, and more after that, leading me to hope Timmy had remained out of reach. We pushed through the foliage in the opposite direction, each shot fueling my hope. But after fifteen minutes or so, they’d stopped altogether.
We hadn’t talked about it but I knew we all feared the worst.
The jungle was alive with noises, each one taking its toll on my senses. At one point I’d heard a branch snap and was sure we’d be caught. I’d sensed someone—or something—lurking in the shadows nearby. But he, or it, had elected not to reveal itself.
Ahmed had accepted the lead role without complaint, encouraging and helping us along the way. The entire experience since we’d left home had transformed him, and I had the sense he was drawing on survival lessons he’d learned as a child in Afghanistan. His fears were still there, of course, under the surface. I could feel them and I knew Sarafina could, too. But Ahmed didn’t allow those feelings to take over. I loved him for that.
“We have to keep moving,” he said, hooking his canteen to his belt. He took Sarafina’s hand and helped her up. She pushed to her feet, avoiding eye contact with either of us.
I reached out with my mind and wrapped her in a blanket of warmth, trying to ease her pain. Her eyes closed and she took in a long breath through her nose, then she exhaled slowly through her mouth. Finally, she turned my way and nodded.
“Thanks,” she said.
I smiled.
We were about to set off when I heard a rustle in the bushes behind us.
“No move!” a deep voice shouted.
I spun around and my mouth went dry. Three of the poppy guards had stepped into the clearing behind us, their hungry expressions like those of predators who’d just cornered their prey. They reeked of violent intentions and I had to fight to control my bladder. Men like these were why the planet had nearly been destroyed by the Grid, a judgment I’d forestalled with a personal plea that humanity could change. But could we? Hadn’t I felt a hint of those same angry urges after what I’d witnessed in the past twenty-four hours?
I recognized the dirty-faced guy in front immediately; the electric animal prod he’d used to torture Mama Bear was still hooked on his belt. The men had guns leveled in our direction, so I raised my hands in the air like I’d seen in the movies. My brother and sister did the same.
“Good chase,” the torturer said, stepping forward, his smile revealing irregular rows of decayed teeth. “No chance for you,” he added. “This my jungle.” He motioned to the two men with him and they moved to surround us. Like him, their skin and jungle clothes were weathered and filthy, and their expressions lacked even the tiniest bit of compassion. As they neared I could smell their rank body odor. The one nearest Ahmed stiffened at the sight of the pistol in my brother’s belt. He pointed the rifle at Ahmed’s head and barked something in Chinese.
The lead guy translated. “Throw gun or die.” I had the feeling he didn’t care which choice was made.
Ahmed lowered his left hand and slowly pulled out the pistol with his fingertips while the guard tightened his grip on his rifle, the muzzle inches from my brother’s face. I tried sending thoughts at the man, willing him to lower the rifle, but his simple mind was like a brick wall. I’d need more than my thoughts to break through.
If I used the mini...
Ahmed tossed the pistol aside. In a flash of movement, the guard cracked the butt of the rifle into my brother’s skull. Ahmed folded to the ground and didn’t move. His scalp glistened with blood. I lurched forward but the guard behind me grabbed a handful of my hair and nearly lifted me off the ground. I cried out and he laughed at my puny efforts to break free.
Sarafina screeched as the torturer dropped his weapon and shoved her facedown onto the ground. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. He crouched over her and yanked the backpack off her shoulders and threw it aside. Then he spun her onto her back and straddled her waist. She screamed, kicking and beating at his chest. He issued a quick order in Chinese and the first guard rushed over and pinned her hands to the ground.
“Stop!” I shouted. I whirled to break free and felt a searing pain on my scalp when a chunk of hair was ripped out. The guard slapped me. He leaned his rifle against a tree and yanked me off my feet, gripping me under one of his bulky arms like I was a dog.
Sarafina twisted and jerked but it was no use—she was no match for the two men. The torturer unhooked the prod from his belt and set it aside. Then he slid his weight onto her hips and unbuckled her belt.
Time slowed as I realized what was happening. Sarafina’s expression was filled with terror, and she released a drawn-out scream that tightened every nerve in my body. The mini responded to my emotion and surged with energy. I tried to tap into it, sending my rage into the skulls of my sister’s attackers. But they only blinked and I knew I needed to hold the bare mini to accomplish what I must do.
The torturer unzipped Sarafina’s trousers, breathing loudly as he bore down on her wrists.
I pounded my fists against the man holding me, but he merely tightened his grip around my chest and I found it difficult to breathe. Tears filled my eyes as I craned my neck to see the torturer looping his fingers around the top of Sarafina’s pants.
“Nooo!” I yelled, realizing at that moment that I wanted the man dead with all my might. I kicked and my guard’s grip shifted, and suddenly his bare forearm was in front of my mouth. I bit into his flesh. He yelped and tossed me aside like a sack of potatoes. I hit the ground hard, gagging on the meat and blood in my mouth. I spit it out and rolled away as I pulled the pack from my shoulder and scrambled to unzip the top. I reached inside just as the guard’s boot connected with the pack. It went flying, my hand came out empty, and the guard stomped down on my neck and pinned my ear into the earth. The more I wiggled, the harder he pushed down. My desperate screams for help melded with my sister’s and echoed in the forest.
The torturer yanked my sister’s pants to her knees and I wailed with every ounce of my being. The torturer turned my way and issued an angry order, as if my antics were interrupting his plan. My guard responded by pulling a pistol from his holster and aiming it at my head. His eyes were empty as he cocked back the hammer and I knew he was going to pull the trigger.
Then I heard it—the rumble of heavy footfalls making the ground vibrate. There was a heavy crash of torn shrubs and snapped limbs as Mama Bear charged into the clearing at a full sprint, her two cubs racing in her wake. My guard’s eyes widened and then he was gone, thrown backward by Mama’s assault. His gun flew through the air as Mama’s claws gouged his face and chest, his blood splattering the trees. His body went limp and Mama Bear roared into his lifeless face.
The torturer and the other guard released my sister and scrambled for their weapons. The guard dove for his assault rifle just as the cubs charged him from either side, one digging his fangs into the man’s calf as the other chomped on his neck. The man’s body twitched and lurched as the bears tugged in opposite directions.
Sarafina yanked up her pants as the torturer swung the assault rifle around and aimed it at the cubs. “Die!” he shouted.
“No, you die!” Sarafina screamed. She rushed up behind him and jabbed the electric prod into the small of his back.
The torturer’s arms flew backward, the rifle went flying, and he collapsed to his knees. His face twisted in pain. But the jolt didn’t incapacitate him like the Tasers did on TV. He was hurt, but his shocked expression changed quickly to fury. He shook his head and pushed to his feet.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Sarafina jabbed him again, this
time in the crotch.
The torturer shrieked in pain and stumbled backward, his hands clutching his private parts. “You bitch,” he said, backing toward one of the fallen rifles.
Sarafina wielded the probe like a Three Musketeers foil, lunging and jabbing, steering the man away from the rifle with each jolt. But there was something wrong. He seemed to flinch less with each impact, and I realized the probe must’ve been losing some of its charge. I scampered on all fours and grabbed my backpack, reached inside and pulled out the mini.
I opened my mind to it and absorbed its energy. What I was about to do frightened me to my bones. I wasn’t familiar enough with the device to know if there were any half measures I could use, but I suspected from my contact with the Grid that the mini could be used to kill thousands, or hundreds of thousands, in the blink of an eye. I prayed I could control it to kill only one. My hands shook as I held it out before me and turned around.
Sarafina jabbed the prod into the torturer’s chest, but he reacted with little more than a brief grimace.
He lunged, slapped the prod from her grasp, and shoved her to the ground. As he turned toward his rifle, I knew I’d run out of choices. I was sinking my mind into the depths of the black pyramid when Mama Bear brushed past me. She chuffed and the cubs joined her, the trio moving toward the torturer, their paws and muzzles glistening with fresh blood. The man took a step backward, then another. He took a desperate glance at the rifle three paces away and his face turned white. He spun on his heels and ran into the trees. The three bears followed and disappeared into the darkness.
A moment later, the torturer’s scream was cut short. I slowly lowered the mini, letting out a long breath. From the rustle of leaves I could tell the bears had turned to leave. I reached out with my mind and caught a final emotion from Mama Bear.
Family.
“Oh my God,” Sarafina said, running to embrace me. “They saved us.”
“Who saved us?” Ahmed said, slowly pushing himself onto his butt. He winced as he ran his hand over his scalp.
“The bears,” Sarafina said as we rushed to his side. “They protected us.” She examined his wound. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit in the head by a bowling ball.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, taking his hand to help him to his feet. “It’s not even bleeding anymore. You’ve been beat up far worse than this on your surfboard.”
He stretched his neck from side to side. “Can’t argue with that, but I’ll still take one of those aspirins from the med kit.”
I placed the mini back in my pack while they spoke, quivering at the thought of what I’d almost done. Would it even have worked while still in its case? Could I have limited the mini’s power to the torturer, or would I have hurt my sister as well? Or all of us? I wished Dad was here. He was the only one who’d understand.
“You okay?” Ahmed said, rubbing my head.
“Uh-huh,” I said. I slung the pack onto my back. “We should go.”
A quick glance at the two mauled bodies was all it took for them to agree. They put on their packs and Ahmed grabbed one of the assault rifles. He unclipped the magazine and checked it. “Fifteen rounds,” he muttered as he rammed it back into the weapon. Then he bent over one of the bodies, removed the man’s web belt, and clipped it around his waist. Patting the two spare magazines it held, he led the way up the path.