Rise of the Scorpion Read online

  My fingertips are beginning to burn, and a massive headache is building behind my eyes, but as fragments of my abduction fall together in my mind, I know I have to stay awake if I want to stay alive. I’ll bide my time, sober up, and make these Slitters pay for taking me. They have no idea what a mistake they’ve made.

  “Mim, do you understand?” The question comes again, and I nod a silent yes.

  Jack rubs the stubble on his chin, deciding if he should believe me.

  “You can’t be serious. This girl isn’t just another Tomboy like Jonathan says. She’s got every skill he has, and she’s quick to cross the line. You know what she did to those Community boys. Do you really want her running around out here with us?”

  “Rosie said the militia troops were going to hurt her and Mim stopped it.”

  “By killing two of her own…without batting an eye…without negotiation. What kind of person does that?” Mary puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head for a better look. “I’ll tell you what kind, a very dangerous one.” She drops my head. “What makes you think she won’t do the same to us if we don’t get her to Jonathan before she’s totally awake?”

  The ringing in my ears isn’t quite as loud now, and the voices of my captors aren’t echoing like they did before. If Jack was smart, he’d listen to Mary. I stay drooped against the tree even though I feel like I can straighten up. Not even Jonathan, whoever he is, will be able to save them from what they’ve done.

  “What’s going to happen if she doesn’t make it back at all? Damn, Mary, how much did you give her?”

  “We never should have taken her.”

  “Yeah,” Jack agrees.

  “Mary, Jack, get that girl. We’re moving out,” someone snaps.

  “We could leave her,” Mary suggests.

  Jack shakes his head. “That would be too dangerous—we can’t do that.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  Jack sighs. I lift my eyes enough to meet his gaze as he thinks. “Mim,” he says, “I know you’re not as out of it as you pretend to be. I’m not stupid. I know you understand me. We didn’t come for you. We were on another errand, but when the opportunity fell in our laps we decided we’d never get a better chance to help a friend. We thought we could take you without anybody getting hurt, including you. But if we can’t trust you, and Mary has to keep using her cloth, you could…well…that would be a real shame. I don’t think your dad would ever forgive us. Jonathan has been waiting for this a long time.”

  Dad? Jonathan? Jonathan is Dad—the only Jonathan I’ve ever known. My head swims, amplifying the effect of the drugs. My stomach churns and I lean to the side, dry heaving until bile burns across my teeth.

  Dad was declared a Cert, left strapped in the culling field a lifetime ago. Jack is trying to trick me. He’s trying to win my complacence. I want to spit, but can’t as sour, yellow-green fluid drips over my chin. “Liar,” I cough up when the convulsions subside.

  “I’m not lying. You’ll see soon enough…if you make it that far.” Jack considers what to do for another moment, then nods to Mary. She covers my nose and mouth with her cloth. I turn my face, but it’s no use.

  “What a waste of time.” Mary sounds faraway. “We’d better catch the others before she comes to. It’ll be risky, putting her out again.”

  “I know, but she’ll be okay once we get her to her dad. He’ll explain everything better than we can. Help me get her—”

  A growing hum in my ears drowns out the rest of their conversation, and the world washes to black. “Liar,” I think I say, before disappearing to nowhere, without so much as a thought or a dream to keep me company.

  3

  Mim

  I open my eyes, staring into a canopy of green with intermittent flashes of sunlight finding their way through. For a moment, I’m not sure it isn’t water—shiny rocks in a silent creek, or the morning’s glint reflecting off the ripples on a lake. The pops and flashes are hypnotizing, keeping me out of time and separate from the physical world, like an aimless spirit with no place to go and no reason for being.

  Bump! My body feels heavy—more like a prison than something I command.

  Bump! Consciousness returns, bringing the terrible awareness of paralysis with it. I can’t move. I’m strapped in a litter being dragged over the uneven forest floor.

  Bump! We’re moving quickly, probably to keep up with the Ark and ahead of Community. A girl walks beside me. She’s taut and lean, but young with a face of stone. She seems familiar. The girl glances down and catches me watching her before I can close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep.

  “You made it,” she says. “Jonathan will be happy. Jack put me in charge of you, and it isn’t fun. It’s hard getting water into someone who can’t raise a finger. So please don’t make Mary put you out again, what a pain. I want to be up front popping oxies, but I’m stuck babysitting the sleeping dangerball girl instead.”

  My toes are burning and my fingertips ache. The litter tilts toward the girl as it’s pulled over a rock, righting itself with a thud that sends uncomfortable tingles shooting through my body. My wrists and ankles are bound, and my mouth is dry as bone. I try to swallow, but lack the moisture to trip my throat.

  The girl looks down on me and sniffs. “Hold up, hold up, Jack. I need to water Sleeping Pain in the Butt.”

  “It’s not time to stop, Rosie, we have a couple more hours and we’re done for the day,” Jack replies.

  “But she’s awake.”

  I’m dragged a few more feet before the litter is propped on something, so I’m tilted up and not flat on my back. Rosie leans in with a waterskin as the faces of Jack and Mary appear over her shoulder. She rests the nozzle on my front teeth and pours its contents over my numb tongue, nearly drowning me in a gulp of water. I choke and cough to clear my windpipe. Rosie turns my head to the side to help. “The first sip is always the hardest,” she says as I recover. “Let’s try this again.” She lifts the waterskin to my mouth, but this time my throat is wet enough to do its job. I drink.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Mary says, but I keep going and Rosie keeps letting me. “I said that’s enough,” Mary snaps and grabs the waterskin away. “She’ll get sick if she gets too much too fast. The Ark is ready to rest, so we’re stopping soon anyway. When we do, get some soup in her and if she holds that down, try some meat.”

  Rosie nods as Jack and Mary disappear. The drugs are wicking from my body, leaving a pounding headache and waves of nausea as they go. Cobwebs retreat like hot threads being pulled through my skull, but at least I can feel my feet. I look up at the girl and wonder about her familiar face. The litter starts moving again.

  “You’re Rosie?” I strain to get the words out.

  The girl looks down and smiles for the first time. I’m astonished how upturned lips transform her face. “I am,” she answers, “and you’re Mim.”

  “You’re older than your mother let me believe.”

  “Mary isn’t my mother.”

  “Oh.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Do we know each other?”

  “Almost. Jonathan took me to see you play dangerball a couple of times, and I tried to track you through the woods once. You cut me lose from a tree, but I don’t like to talk about that.”

  “Me either,” I hear myself say.

  “I hope we can be friends.” Her smile grows a touch brighter and her eyes glimmer, making her look sweeter and more innocent than before.

  “Me too,” I answer without meaning it. I force a partial smile, turn my head, and drift off to the first honest sleep in days. Unremembered dreams play chase through my brain, and when I finally open my eyes again, I’m dead.

  4

  Mim

  I must be dead, because my father’s face hovers over me. When I open my eyes he smiles. I’m in a makeshift lean-to with the smell of fire and cooking meat all around. My stomach pangs at the aroma, but I’m so relieved to feel again, I don’t mind being hungry. A remnant
numb remains in my limbs, but it’s faint, and if I had to get up and walk or hold a knife, I think I could. There are no Slitters, no drugs, no girl, just my dad in the soft shadows above me, watching as I sleep—the way he used to before he was killed. I’m safe, wherever we are, I’m safe with my father. I may still be a little groggy, but this isn’t a dream…which means it has to be heaven. A slow tear runs from the corner of my eye into my ear. Dad dries it away.

  “Hello, sweetheart, I sure have missed you.”

  The sound of his voice stirs feelings I’ve kept safe for too long. I choke, but words don’t come before a mix of grief and joy swirl in to overwhelm me. I sob, waiting for unsorted emotions to run their course. He pulls me into his arms, holding me as I cry into his shoulder.

  “Shhh,” he whispers, “you’ll dehydrate again.” A tiny laugh ripples among my tears. “That’s better,” Dad says, “you had me worried.”

  I pull back, wipe the water from my eyes, and run my wrist under my nose to take the snot away. Dad looks older than I remember. “Is Mom here?” I ask.

  My father’s smile dims. “Mim, your mother is gone.”

  I’m disappointed, wiping my nose again. I keep only the vaguest memories of my mother, but Dad says she loved me down to the bone. I’m eager to see her. “When’s she coming back?”

  “Mim, don’t you remember?”

  I’m so happy to see my father and I can’t wait to see Mom. Did I ever call her mom or did we only get to mommy? Dad presses his cheek to my forehead. His skin is cool against mine. He lowers me to my back and pulls the blanket to my chin. “When is she coming home?”

  “Sweetheart, your mother has been dead a long, long time.”

  “I know, Dad,” I say, fading to the brink of slumber.

  “Mary, Rosie, I need you!” Dad echoes in some faraway tunnel.

  Mary, Rosie? This isn’t heaven…I’m not dead…at least not yet. My eyes lull back into my brain as tears for a mother I barely remember, pool and slip away. Worried voices float around me. I drop off and dream of Mom.

  Days of fever, intermittent consciousness, and force-fed soup go by. We may have traveled a few of them, but when I finally wake for real, I feel more like myself than I have since the Grand Championship. There’s an emptiness in my chest and a weakness throughout my body, but I manage to roll over anyway. Rosie walks in and catches me trying to sit up. She stares at me, and I stop moving to stare back.

  “What’s wrong,” I say, “never seen a dead girl get up to pee?” I struggle, to get my elbows behind me and prop to a slight incline. The effort takes all my energy. I’m exhausted and irritated.

  Rosie remains silent, arms at her side, waterskin in hand. She must have been coming to water me when she caught me awake. “Well, are you going to stand there and gawk all day or give me a drink?” She tosses the waterskin. It lands on my stomach and slides to the ground. “Thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes. I lack the strength and coordination to lift the nozzle to my mouth in my current position, so I lower to my side and drink from there. It’s awkward, but I’m thirsty. I suck the water until it’s gone and lie back with a sigh.

  “Do you want more?” Rosie asks.

  I push to my elbows again. “I’ll take one to go,” I say.

  She furrows her brow, not getting the joke. “I’ll fetch another waterskin.”

  “Take this one. It’s empty.”

  Rosie regards me a moment and shakes her head. “Johnathan said not to get too close when you wake up, said he’s not sure what kind of mood you’ll be in, said you’ll pretend to be worse off than you really are.”

  It’s weird, almost surreal, hearing this girl talk about Dad like he’s still alive. “Where is my dad…I mean Johnathan?”

  “He’s clearing oxies. We’ve stopped, but we’re not safe yet.” She sees I don’t understand and answers the question before I ask it. “When we go someplace new, the Ark air turns the animals crazy, so we have to clear them away, drive them back Outside. Most avoid the Ark, get out of the way if they can…don’t want to be in here with us any more than we want them to be, but if the Ark is fast, it’ll catch them anyway, and we have to get rid of them.”

  “Huh, so that’s why we don’t get too many Outside animals tearing through Community, you Slitters kill them off.”

  There’s a faint pucker in her face at the word Slitter. “Nobody kills them. We never use bows or spears, only dipped darts. Sometimes we tip them with one of Mary’s sedatives, but not usually. Johnathan says that’s only for special cases.”

  “Dipped darts?”

  “Mary puts something on them…makes them pop like a wasp. One time I—”

  “Raging beasts versus pin pricks? You expect me to believe that works?”

  “Yeah, and it’s so much fun!” She beams, raising momentarily to her toes for emphasis. “It really makes the critters jump. Johnathan says a wounded animal will fight all the way to the death. If you don’t kill an oxie straight out, you’ve got a problem you might not live to tell about. It’s not good enough not to be dumb, you have to be smart.”

  It’s strange to hear my father’s words on Rosie’s lips.

  “But no matter how crazy an animal is, no matter how big or how fierce, it will always run from a swarm of bees. It can’t help it. So we load our blow guns with stingers, and pop oxies until they skedaddle back over the Edge. That’s where they want to be anyway.” She sighs and looks down at her feet. “I wish I was out there now, but Jonathan says there’s too many, plus I’m supposed to keep an eye on you…but when you’re up to it, maybe we can go together. You’ll love it.”

  I’m tired and can’t keep myself propped any longer. I lie back. “My dad, all this time, living with Slitters,” I puff. “How long have you known Jonathan?” Rosie doesn’t answer. I tilt up to see why. The friendly girl who wanted to take me darting oxies has turned to stone, trying to measure her response. “I asked you—”

  “I heard,” Rosie interrupts, “but you need to watch your mouth and stop using that word. We are Utugi, not Slitters. That’s just some vile name Community people use for their betters.”

  Her petulance flies on me, but I can barely move and I’m in no position to argue. If she’s been around my father, Rosie is probably more capable than an eleven-year-old has the right to be, and I’m not ready to tangle.

  “About five years,” she answers. “Jonathan is the one who came for me after my mother was culled. Rescued me from a spinster’s tent one night and brought me here to be with Mom.”

  “Your mom? You just said she was culled.”

  “She was. Jack cut her loose after the Ark pushed off, and she was here waiting on me. We were supposed to colonize, but Mom never got well enough, so Cassandra let us stay. My mother died a few years back, so Jonathan helps look after me…a little. If I’m useful enough, I might get to stay, but that’s up to Cassandra, and she doesn’t like people hanging around too long. She says staying here is the same as dying and that’s not our destiny…of course she’s been here longer than dirt, herself.” Rosie takes a deep breath. “This last move was a big one, and if the scouts find another island, I’m afraid she’ll make me go.”

  Rosie is spinning stories, making assumptions, and saying a lot of things that don’t make sense. I decide to press, and catch her in a lie. I push back to my elbows.

  “You’re saying a Slitter pulled your mother off a culling post, from Outside, and brought her here?” It’s an accusation—a statement of disbelief, accented with the word Slitter. It’s not really a question. Rosie gets the message.

  “I said it was Jack,” she sneers. “For someone who lives in a big place with a lot of people, you sure are stupid. You think you’re so smart, but you don’t know squat. I’ll get your water.” Rosie disappears around the corner of the lean-to, and I lie back down.

  Jonathan, Jack, Mary, and Rosie take turns looking in on me over the next several days. I hear mention of Cassandra, but never lay eyes on the mysterious w
oman. I think Mary and Jack are together, but they try not to let it show. I’m not sure if that’s for my benefit or someone else’s.

  Jonathan is mostly as I remember, only different…harder, and he has a new little girl to train in the woods. She’s annoying as crap. I eat every bite of meat and every slice of fruit they bring me. Sometimes it’s work getting it all down, but I need my strength and refusing food isn’t going to help. Another day or two passes before I’m well enough to stand. I decide to have a look around.

  “Whoa, whoa, are you sure you want to do that?” Johnathan asks when he catches me steadying myself against the lean-to.

  There was a time I missed my father so much, but over the last few days I’ve grown sullen in his company and terribly homesick for Will. I stumble and Johnathan reaches to help. I brush him away.

  “I got it.” I start to move past but can’t hold my tongue. “You were dead,” I growl.

  “I can explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. What’s done is done, and I don’t care about your excuses. You left me. You should have come back.”

  I push by and step outside to a village of tents that’s a fraction the size of Community. Rosie is playing tag with two boys, women are tending fires, and Jack is helping Mary cook something in a big pot. These aren’t the warriors I expected, they’re a ragged lot going about regular chores like anyone else. It’s a pathetic scene, yet oddly familiar…like one of the poorer groups in Community…except…peaceful…no…hopeful…somehow. Slitter numbers equal our own, so this must be an outpost. They’re keeping me here so I won’t see more than I should.

  “Is this an outpost?” I ask, as Johnathan comes to my side.

  “No.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “This is everybody.”

  I survey the camp and shake my head. “There can’t be more than a hundred people here.”

  “One hundred and thirty-seven, but with any luck, we’ll plant most of them in the next few weeks.”