Half Lost

  It’s hard to see in the dark.

  She shakes her head back. She’s gagged but her eyes are staring at me. Blue eyes full of fear, full of silver. White Witch eyes.

  My hands are shaking harder now, shaking with rage and fury, and the Fairborn is buzzing in my grip and I drive it into the ground and walk away.

  The Prisoner

  The fire, a rucksack, a sleeping bag: I kick them all and curse them all. I stop short of kicking a dead body but I curse it and everything else that lies on the ground in this crappy camp. By the time I’ve worked my way back to the prisoner, I don’t know if I’ve worked myself up or down but I’m still mad. I don’t know who she is but she’s not Annalise.

  The girl stares at me. Some of the fear has gone from her eyes and she tries to talk, but she’s gagged and I’m not in the mood for messing with that. I turn my back on her and find a water canister to wash my hands and clean the Fairborn. All the time I do it, I swear. The swearing helps, a little.

  I go through the camp looking for anything that may be useful: useful to me and useful to Greatorex. There’s plenty of stuff but no paperwork, plans, or orders. I put a blanket, water, food, knives, guns, and ammo into a rucksack. I also find rope, zip ties, and keys, I guess, to the prisoner’s chains. There’s a medical kit too. I don’t need one but some in the Alliance don’t heal as well or as quickly as me.

  When I try to lift the rucksack I can hardly move it. I take out four of the guns, the blanket, the medical kit; I tip out most of the water but keep the canister, all the ammo and food. There’s some clothes on the ground by one of the sleeping bags. I take a fleece and a jacket and turn back to the prisoner. She’s sitting up now. Watching me. I drop the jacket and fleece by her feet, crouch in front of her, and pull off her gag.

  “Thanks. Thanks. I thought . . . I thought they’d kill me.”

  I drop the keys at her feet and tell her, “Unlock your ankles.”

  “Yes, yes. Thanks.” She starts to do it and then stops, saying, “Can you cut off the zip tie?”

  “Unlock the chain. We’re leaving.”

  While she does that I think of something else I’ve got to do. I check all the bodies for tattoos. The Alliance first spotted that the Hunters had these months ago, just before BB. They seem to mean that the Hunters can go invisible. It’s some perverted magic that Wallend has made. And yes—all of these Hunters have tattoos. Small black circles on their chests, above their hearts.

  When I go back to the prisoner she’s standing, stomping her legs. I cut the zip tie round her wrists. Her wrists are raw. It looks like she’s only in a thin jumper. She must be freezing.

  “Thanks,” she says.

  “Do you have one of those tattoos?” I ask, pointing at the nearest Hunter’s chest.

  “No.”

  I stare at her.

  “What? You want to check?”

  I wait.

  She swears under her breath but then pulls her jumper up to her neck.

  She’s skinny, muscular, and pale. But she doesn’t have a tattoo.

  “I’m not one of them. I was trying to join the Alliance,” she says, pulling her clothes back down.

  “We need to get going. Put those on.” I point to the jacket and fleece on the ground. “Keep warm.”

  She does as I say. The jacket is massive on her.

  I take a new zip tie from the rucksack and tie it round her wrists, behind her back. Her hands are like ice.

  She doesn’t say anything at first but then turns to look at me and says really quietly, “Why are you doing this? I’m on your side. I was their prisoner.”

  “Says you.”

  She takes a step back from me and says, “OK, OK, I get that you don’t know who I am, but look at me. I can’t hurt you.”

  “Says you.”

  I wonder what Gift she has. As a final thought, I grab the rope, the gag, and the hood, and stuff them in her jacket pocket.

  “You won’t need those,” she says, her voice panicked.

  I search the camp once more. It’s getting light now, but there’s nothing new to see. I swing the rucksack on and walk back to the girl. “OK,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “That way,” I say, and shove her forward. She stumbles but then starts walking ahead of me.

  “Faster,” I tell her.

  And she speeds up. Her body is tense and I can see she’s struggling because her hands are tied. Well, that’s just too bad.

  After half an hour, she slows and I have to push her on. She says, “You’re with the Alliance, aren’t you? Is that where we’re going? I was trying to join them, but the Hunters found me.”

  “They’ll find you again if you don’t speed up.”

  “Can’t you untie my hands?”

  “I can gag you, if you think that’ll help.”

  She’s quiet then and she speeds up.

  An hour or so later she slows again and however much I urge, curse, and push her she looks done in. So we stop. I give her all the water and feed her a chocolate bar, which she bites so greedily I’m in danger of losing a finger.

  Her mouth full of chocolate, she says, “They hardly gave me anything to eat!”

  I let her rest for ten minutes then say, “Get up. We need to keep moving.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  I reckon she needs the right motivation so I try a different tactic.

  “I’m leaving. I’m going to the Alliance base. You can come with me and go at my speed or you can stay here and the Hunters will pick you up again soon enough.” And I set off.

  Sure enough, I hear her running and stumbling to keep up. I don’t go too fast, I’ve worked out her pace now, but I do circle round and check our trail in case she’s deliberately leaving any tracks or signs. But she’s not.

  A few hours later, she drops behind again. After a few minutes, I lose sight of her. I stop and wait but she doesn’t appear.

  Shit.

  Do I go back?

  I go back.

  She’s not that far behind, kneeling on the ground. She looks up at me when I approach, tears running down her cheeks, and says, “I’m too tired.”

  “Tough. We need to keep going.”

  She tries to get to her feet but her knees buckle and with her hands tied she can’t balance.

  Shit!

  I go to her and haul her up. She’s as light as a feather.

  “There’s a small stream up ahead. We can get water and rest there.” I cut her zip tie and tell her, “Anything. Any trouble, any . . . anything and I slit your throat.”

  She nods lots and says, “Thank you.”

  I’ve no idea how far it is to the stream. I know I passed two on the way and followed the course of one for a short distance. So off we go again, slow but now she’s on her feet she’s OK.

  Eventually we reach the stream. The water flows slowly but it’s clean. I fill the canister and watch the girl glug the water down. I find another chocolate bar and give it to her.

  She eats this one more slowly. When she’s finished it she says, “I’m Donna.”

  “Hi, Donna. I’m Freddie.”

  She actually smiles a little at that. I guess she knows I’m no Freddie, but does she know who I really am?

  I get to my feet, saying, “Time to go, Donna.”

  “I thought we were staying here for the night.”

  “It’s not dark for a few hours. We keep going.”

  * * *

  As it gets dark, I tell Donna, “This is a good spot. We’ll camp here.”

  She doesn’t reply but folds up on herself and sits on the ground. We’ve walked a long way but nothing to what Hunters can cover in a day. I’m sure Donna’s fit enough but she does look really thin and weak.

  It’s
cold and she needs to save her energy for walking, not for keeping warm, so I make a fire and cook a couple of the dehydrated meals I took from the Hunters. She eats both. I’m not sure about tying her wrists again but I do. She doesn’t even complain, just lies down and falls asleep. I put some more wood on the fire and go to check if we’re being followed.

  I run back the way we came, stopping frequently to listen for movement or for the hiss of mobile phones. I go fast in the dark. I can’t see that well, but I can sense my way. I run halfway back to the Hunter camp but I hear and see nothing. If it was a trap, what would I do if I was Jessica, my half-sister, leader of the Hunters, when I found out it hadn’t worked?

  When she hears about that camp, Jessica will know I can kill eight Hunters on my own. So she’s going to want to follow us with more than eight. She’ll know we’ll go to an Alliance camp so she’ll want a lot more than eight. It might take her a while, a day maybe, to get enough Hunters in the right area. We’ve not left very obvious tracks, but they’re Hunters—they’ll work it out. We’ve probably got a day’s start on them, a day and a half with luck. But that’s not much. I’ve got to get Donna to Camp Three and then Greatorex will have to either be ready for a fight or move. Greatorex will want to move.

  I get back while it’s still dark and start the fire again. Donna’s asleep. The forest is quiet. I lie down and close my eyes. I really need an hour or two of sleep.

  * * *

  I’m in a forest with Annalise. She’s running ahead of me and I’m chasing her, but it’s a game. She’s laughing and dodging and at first I’m pretending I can’t catch her but then when I do try to grab her she’s too quick and I’m snatching at air and she’s laughing again, laughing at me. And I get madder and try harder to grab her but she skips out of my reach and smiles and laughs and I get madder and I’m so angry and I have the Fairborn in my hand and I’m cursing her and still she laughs and then she stops and stands in front of me and says, “You’re my prince. You saved me.” But I’m so angry I stab her and slash her and the Fairborn cuts her and my arm is aching with the effort I put into it.

  * * *

  I wake up and open my eyes. It’s early morning. My arm is stiff and sore.

  I turn my head and see Donna is watching me.

  “Bad dream?” she asks.

  “Is there any other kind?”

  She gives a quick smile and looks down and very quietly says, “No.”

  * * *

  We set off. Donna seems stronger today. I guess she can’t have slept much if she was a terrified prisoner of the Hunters. But whatever she is—wannabe freedom fighter, spy, or just some sad teenage White Witch with parents who’ve joined up with Soul—I really don’t care. Greatorex can work it out.

  We make good progress all day, keeping up a steady pace, stopping frequently but only for a few minutes at a time. At one stop I give Donna the last chocolate bar and she takes it, breaks it in half, and offers me half back.

  I tell her, “You have it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not being nice. I’m being practical. We won’t be eating until tonight and you need the calories.”

  She does one of her little smiles and says, “OK.”

  Then she says, “The Hunters who caught me were horrible . . . scary. They put the hood on me and gagged me and then it was like they forgot I was there. And . . . they talked about things. They talked about how they were setting a trap for this witch called Nathan. He’s famous. He’s the son of Marcus. Half Black Witch and half White Witch. They said he’d killed lots of Hunters. But famous or not, they said, he wouldn’t stand a chance against them. Apparently two of them were some special elite. The trap was that they’d make it look like there were only four Hunters, so he’d think he had a good chance against them. But they could all go invisible and one of them had this weird Gift that makes you double up in pain and another one could blind you. So they were going to catch him and then take us both back to the Council and have us executed.” She glances at me and then looks away. “Anyway, that Nathan guy sounds really nasty but he’s working for the Alliance so I’m glad he didn’t fall for the trap and I’m really grateful that it’s you who found me and rescued me, Freddie.”

  I have to rub my face to cover my smile. “Yeah.”

  “Anyway, I know that you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. It’s understandable. But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful.”

  “Did they say if any other Hunters were nearby?”

  “No. Well, I mean they didn’t say there were or there weren’t. They talked about ‘base’ and getting information to base and things like that but I’m not sure how close it was.”

  “We need to go. Wherever it is, it’s too close.”

  We set off again. It’s early afternoon but very gloomy. The rain starts and quickly turns to sleet. The trees are protecting us from the worst of the weather but it’s muddy and wet and cold. If I didn’t have Donna with me I’d be back with Gabriel by now, but we’ll be lucky to make it by tomorrow night. And it’s impossible not to leave tracks in this mud.

  When it gets dark, I find a place to camp. The rain has petered out but everywhere is wet. The least wet and muddy place is under a large tree. We sit there and shelter for a while, but Donna starts to shiver.

  “We need wood for a fire. Come on.” I pull her to her feet.

  “I’m too tired. Can’t I wait here?”

  “No. You need to help and you need to keep moving until we get the fire going.”

  We wander off together and Donna does help, soon getting an armful. But I tell her, “Most of that’s too wet.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” she replies, looking at my empty arms. “I’ll take it back.”

  I let her go and carry on searching. The rain starts again, heavier than ever, and I realize it’s impossible. There’s no dry wood.

  I go back to the shelter of the big tree. Donna is bent over the rucksack, her arm inside it. Some of the contents are tipped out. There’s a gun by Donna’s side. I run at her, sending a flash of lightning to hit the ground close to her. She cowers down.

  “What are you doing?” I shout.

  “I was looking for food! I’m starving.”

  I’m breathing hard. She looks up at me. “I’m just hungry. This is all dehydrated stuff. I thought there might be some energy bars or chocolate or something.”

  I swear at her and grab her wrists, zip-tying them behind her back. “Don’t ever go in my stuff again.”

  I pack the rucksack back up, cleaning the mud off things as best I can. The ammo is all packed at the bottom. None of the guns are loaded. Was Donna going through looking for a loaded gun? Looking for ammo? Or was she really looking for food?

  I get the least damp wood I can find and light the fire with flames from my mouth. Donna cowers further from me. The fire is poor. I make up the dehydrated meals with lukewarm water. They’re disgusting but I eat one and feed Donna another.

  She hardly speaks, just says sorry a few times. I don’t speak to her, but tie her to a tree and head back to check for anyone following our trail. Nothing. I go back to the fire and keep watch all night. It rains on and off. When it starts to get light I make one more meal up, boiling the water as best I can. Beef stew for breakfast. I cut Donna’s zip tie off and share the food with her.

  “Thanks.” She steals a glance at me. “I won’t do anything stupid again. Sorry.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Freddie, I really—”

  “I said shut up.”

  She’s silent and I look over at her and see she’s started crying again. So I kick the fire out, pack up, and drag her to her feet and off we go again. It’s cold and damp and moving is the only thing to keep the chill out of our bones. But at least Donna keeps going at a reasonable pace and she’s not talking.

  It’s late aft
ernoon when we get back to Camp Three and a Half. There’s no sign of Gabriel and it looks like he hasn’t been here for a few days: the fire is cold and my fifty-two stones are scattered in the mud where Gabriel kicked them. He must be at Camp Three with Greatorex. He’ll wait there and hope I go to him. That’s his way of getting me to go and see Greatorex. Well, as it happens, that’s what I’m going to do anyway.

  Donna has sat down on the ground by the dead fire and I tell her, “Ten minutes and then we leave.”

  “I thought we were stopping here for the night.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Join the club.”

  “Are we nearly there yet?” She smiles a little and glances up at me, I think realizing she sounds like a little kid.

  “We’ll be at the Alliance camp soon.”

  “Really?” Donna perks up but then looks at me suspiciously. “An hour soon or a day soon?”

  “At my pace, an hour. At yours, it could be three days.”

  Her shoulders droop a little but she says, “Thanks, Freddie. For bringing me, I mean. I know you could have left me.”

  I drink some water and pass it to her, saying, “Shut up and drink.”

  She sips the water and says, “Freddie, I—”

  “Can you stop calling me fucking Freddie?”

  She smiles briefly. “Sure. It really doesn’t suit you. You’re definitely not a Freddie.” She sips the water again, then adds quietly and cautiously, “But even if you chose a better name I think I’d know who you are. You really are famous, you know. I was being honest. I’m glad I’ve met you and I am really grateful . . . Nathan.”

  “Yeah.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re famous for being the son of Marcus. Famous for being a Half Code. Famous for being bad . . . evil. Downright nasty.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “I’m trying to talk to you.” And she adds a small smile.

  “Well, I’m not into talking. But, yes, I’m mostly nasty. Sometimes I’m evil. And sometimes I do bad things. Your job is to make sure I don’t want to do them to you. So I suggest you shut up and get moving.”