Innocents

  Chapter 19

  “You’re kidding right?” I demand incredulously looking at the sheer drop off below me, “We actually have to climb down that?” We had only been hiking for a couple of hours before we came to a steep cliff blocking our way. I may have navigated my way fairly well up and down the climbing walls on Innocents, but this three hundred foot drop between me and certain death is a different story. The rock is slick from the persistent mist that has been hanging over the island and from what I can see, the cliff wall is relatively smooth, providing limited foot and hand holds. There is also the small matter of not having a harness. Flynn looks at me with some humor, obviously confused about my reluctance. “There’s got to be an easier way down this thing,” I complain.

  Flynn considers this, hesitating, “This is the fastest, but we could hike a few miles down, it’s less steep there. It would cost us in time though.” I take another look at the deadly drop before me, weighing the odds of me surviving the climb down. As deadly as the cliff may be, the thought of unnecessarily adding additional hours onto the time I have left on Murderers is even less appealing. “No, I can do the cliff,” I finally tell Flynn.

  He studies me carefully, “You sure?”

  No, I think as I nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady. It’s alright, I try to reassure myself, three hundred foot cliff with deadly rocks waiting at the bottom, I’ve faced worse. The sad thing is that this is actually true.

  “Just go slowly and keep calm and you’ll be fine,” Flynn instructs. Ha, easier said than done. Flynn goes first, and I watch as he skillfully begins to navigate the precipice. His brow furrows in concentration as he slowly inches his way down. After he’s makes it a good ten feet, I start my own descent. The rocky wall is every bit as slippery as it looks, and I’m immediately regretting my decision to agree to the climb. I block out these nagging thoughts and concentrate on the task before me: not dying. I take a quick look down and see that Flynn has already made it another ten feet in the time it’s taken me to accomplish my one foot. With agonizing slowness, I finally start making progress. My short stature makes it difficult to reach for footholds and I end up going sideways just as much as down in an attempt to find an easier approach.

  By the time I am half way down, the muscles in my arms and legs are screaming in protest. Flynn has already reached the ground and is pacing at the bottom with obvious anxiety. Shows how much he believes in my mountaineering skills. After a quick break to catch my breath, I begin my downward progress again. I make it about ten more feet before my foot catches a loose rock. The rock falls free from the cliff wall, catching me by surprise, and soon I am dangling by only my hands over a hundred feet off the ground. Time seems to slow as I attempt to regain my traction, but there are no footholds within reach. I can hear Flynn calling frantically to me but my panic enveloped brain cannot comprehend his words.

  My already sore arms are burning with exertion of supporting my body, and I frantically look around, desperate for an idea. About two feet below my head is a small ledge, about six inches deep. It is too high for my legs to reach, but if I can someone get there; I may be able find a protuberance to rest my feet on. Letting go with one hand, I attempt to reach down to the shelf. No luck; my fingers are still a good foot away. I close my eyes, realizing I only have one option left. The burning in my arms has reached an unbearable level, so I let go, I hear Flynn’s distressed yell as I plummet down with sickening speed. Using the last ounce of my strength, I manage to catch the ledge with my hands, jolting myself to a sharp stop.

  My legs fumble to find a purchase on the slick rock, until finally I find a small crevice, just deep enough for my toe to slip into, supporting my weight and giving my arms a rest. I’m breathing hard and my entire body is shaking with fear and fatigue. I take a moment to recover my wits before continuing the perilous journey to the bottom.

  When my feet finally touch solid ground again, I crumple into a heap, my limbs feeling as if they are on fire. Flynn hurries over to me, his gaze brimming with panic and anguish, reflecting all of his unsaid concern.

  “I’m fine;” I say weakly, attempting to wave him off “just need a moment.” Flynn ignores my request and pulls me into a tight embrace, “That was so stupid! Why would you just let go?” he demands.

  I let out a shaky laugh, “I didn’t really have a choice.” Flynn buries his face in my hair, “I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers.

  “I’m still here,” I reassure him, as I extricate myself from his arms. I brush the dirt off of my travel worn clothes and take another deep steadying breath.

  “No more cliffs,” Flynn informs me, “Not that I would let you attempt to climb down another one anyway.” I am torn between relief that the worst is behind us, and exasperated that my mishap on the cliff has only reinforced Flynn’s notion that I am hazard prone.

  There is certain atmosphere of zeal as we walk, by tomorrow afternoon we should arrive at the gates to our freedom and leave behind this horrible island once and for all. The thought is enough to put anyone in a good mood. We make good progress for the rest of the day. The terrain stays flat and easy to navigate and thankfully we do not meet any Astut clan members. Perhaps our luck is finally looking up. I remember the old Innocents superstition about knocking on wood so you don’t jinx yourself and I casually rap my knuckles on the next tree I pass.

  The sun is sinking low in the sky, fading into a bright pink sunset and Flynn and I decide to make camp in the midst of a cluster of bushes. It’s not the most comfortable of locations, but the shrubbery keeps us shielded from view and offers some relief from the cold wind that has begun to pick up.

  “Feel like training?” Flynn asks.

  I groan, “I can barely lift my arms as it is,” I complain, “one of us nearly died on a cliff this morning remember.”

  Flynn scowls, “Like I could forget. I never should have let you climb down. It was stupid and careless of me.”

  I roll my eyes and throw a clump of dirt at him, too tired to put up much more of a fight about my self-sufficiency, “Well I survived, didn’t I? You can’t protect me against everything.” Flynn looks at me challengingly, without out warning, he tackles me to the ground, pinning my arms to my side. His hair tickles my face as he tenderly kisses me, “Maybe I can’t protect you from everything, but I’m going to try. From now on, I’m not letting you leave my side.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I murmur, grabbing his T-shirt and bringing his lips back down onto mine. Heat course through my veins as Flynn’s tongue gently pries my mouth open, caressing my lower lip. I tangle my hands in his hair, losing myself in the kiss. The snap of a twig brings us sharply back to reality, and Flynn has his knives drawn and at ready before I can even gather my wits. I quickly take out my own blade and crouch next to Flynn. My vision is limited in the now semi-darkness, but Flynn has his eyes trained on a dark object about twenty feet away, one that I assumed to be a tree, however, upon further observation I can see that it is moving towards us.

  Flynn curses quietly and turns to me, “Stay here and keep hidden,” he warns. So much for me never leaving his side. Before I can protest, he springs into action, closing the distance between him and our mysterious companion in three steps. The figure yelps and jumps back, raising his hands above his head to show that he is unarmed. “Flynn, stop! It’s me, Heath!” he cries.

  Flynn slows, lowering his knife a fraction of an inch, “Jesus Christ, Heath, what the hell are you doing here and how did you find us?”

  Heath looks warily at Flynn’s knife, “I’ve been tracking you since you left, and so has Marek. That’s what I’ve come to warn you about, Marek’s coming after you, and he’s less than a day behind me.” Flynn curses violently and I abandon my spot in the bushes to join him. Flynn shoots me a look clearly stating that I should still be hiding with the shrubbery, but I ignore it, this is too important to miss.

  “Tell me what you know,” Flynn demands and Heath sighs hea
vily.

  “You can put away your knife, Flynn. I’m here to help you.”

  Flynn remains unconvinced, “I’ll take that into consideration once I’ve heard your story. For now I’m going to assume that you’re working for Marek.” Heath grumbles a bit but doesn’t make any further protests and follows Flynn and I back to our encampment. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Flynn warns.

  “You’d think I’d have actually done something to earn your distrust with the way your acting,” Heath complains. Flynn ignores this and looks expectantly at Heath. In the fading light, I can’t make out the younger boy’s face very well, but from what I can see, he looks just as bad as we must. Scratches and dirt cover every inch of his face and his eyes are dark with lack of sleep. “Where’s Landon?” Heath asks, glancing around as though expecting to see him hiding under a bush. Flynn’s eyes harden at the mention of his friend and when he speaks, his voice reveals some of his emotion. “He’s dead. Killed by the Volis.”

  “I’m sorry,” Heath says, and he actually sounds sincere.

  Flynn nods in acknowledgement, “Now it’s time to hear your story, and I’ll warn you now that if I find out you’re betraying me, I will make you regret it.” Heath takes a deep breath and begins his tale.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting in nervous silence. Heath has informed us that Cadoc, leader of the Volis, came to Marek personally and described Flynn and Landon’s rescue mission and attack on their base camp. He threatened the Domus with clan war, but told Marek that he could prevent it by killing Flynn. As soon as Heath over heard this, he decided to run off and track us down to warn us. From what he’s learned, there is a group of at least ten Domus behind us, led by none other than Marek himself. I shudder at the thought and Flynn reaches over and threads his fingers through mine. Heath raises an eyebrow and looks quizzically at our joined hands but Flynn disregards him. He puts down his knife and exhales slowly, “You say they’re about a day behind us?”

  Heath shrugs, “Less than that probably. If I had to guess, I’d say they will be on us by midday tomorrow.”

  “Should we leave now?” I ask, trying to mask my fatigue.

  Flynn shakes his head “No, I’m not going to risk traipsing around Astut territory in the dark. Besides, we need to be well rested for tomorrow.”

  I try to hide my relief at the news, “You’re the boss,” I say in my best attempt at nonchalance.

  Flynn looks amused by this statement, “Can I hold you to that?”

  I laugh, “That depends on what you want me to do.”

  “Right now I want you to sleep.”

  “Hmm, I think I can manage that,” I reply, right now sleep sounds like the best thing in the world. I lie down allowing my eye lids to droop and within seconds I’m out completely.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed when I am woken up by the sound of low voices. I keep my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep and listen. Flynn is describing the events that transpired since we left the Volis and I can just hear his words above the howling of the wind.

  “So you actually led a raid on the Domus and survived it?” Heath’s voice is incredulous. “If I had to guess, I’d say that that was never done before. Successfully at least.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Flynn insists, “They would have killed Brie if I didn’t. And I guess Marek being gone helped my odds of survival, not that I knew it at the time.”

  “You must really care about her,” Heath says somewhat wistfully. I immediately concentrate on keeping my breathing slow and steady, waiting for Flynn to answer. When he responds, his voice is so quiet I almost miss it, “You have no idea.”

  Heath doesn’t respond and suddenly I feel a deep pity for the boy. I wonder if he has ever had anyone truly care about him. The thought fills me with sadness and also makes me realize that even if Innocents wasn’t the ideal place to grow up, it could have been a lot worse. I had friends that I loved and who loved me back, something I had always taken for granted, but now coming to Murderers, I realize how special that is.

  The two boys turn their conversation back to our journey and I tune out, allowing the sound of the wind to relax me until I drift off again.