Three (Article 5 #3)(23)

“Becca—have you seen her?” Sean’s hair spiked in all different directions, as though he’d been pulling on it.

I stepped out from beneath the boughs into the alley between the rows of trees, dread balling in my stomach. Rebecca had been sleeping here just minutes ago, but in my distraction she’d managed to disappear. From the look on Sean’s face I didn’t have to ask what he was thinking; I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a bad feeling from her stunt on the bridge.

“She can’t be too far,” Chase said. “She was just here a few minutes ago.” It comforted me that he’d been watching her as well.

Sean threw back his head and groaned.

We split up, each taking a different direction through the grove. Behind me, I could still hear the others in our group, but the deeper I headed into the trees, the more muffled their voices became. Soon, there was no more than the cry of the birds and the crunching of the twigs and fallen leaves beneath my feet.

“Rebecca?”

A sudden movement to my left startled me. I twisted, shoes slipping on a piece of black, rotten fruit, and I caught my balance on a low-hanging branch. When I looked again, there was nothing but the gray-brown base of the tree, and a metal crutch leaning against it.

“Rebecca?” My words were muffled by the thick cover. I grabbed the single brace, searching for any sign of her.

A noise from behind had me spinning around, and I found myself looking at a boy whose face was streaked with mud and half hidden behind a wild brown nest of hair. His clothing was odd: he wore no shirt or shoes, and around his hips hung a pleated skirt that stopped just above his bony knees. He wasn’t one of the survivors; I had no idea where he’d come from.

“Hello,” I said.

He didn’t respond. He stared at me, eyes too round, as though he was forcing them open as wide as he could.

“How old are you?” It was a stupid question, and I wasn’t sure why I asked.

He held out his hands, making the number seven. My brows pulled together. I would have pegged him at twelve, at least.

“Where is your family?” I asked.

His eyes roamed lower, to Rebecca’s silver brace, still in my grip. I stood it up immediately, realizing it probably looked like I was preparing to swing it at him.

“It’s my friend’s. Have you seen her?” I touched my hair. “She has blond, yellow hair. She’s about my height.”

He turned, and began to run.

“Hey!” I took off after him, deeper into the trees. He was sure-footed in this terrain and gained ground quickly. Finally, I stopped, frustration boiling inside of me. There had been a flicker of recognition in his face when I’d asked about Rebecca, I hadn’t made that up.

A branch broke behind me and I turned, a short yelp of surprise bursting from my throat as two more boys—shirtless and smeared with mud like the other one—threw something at me. Trying to block whatever it was, I released the crutch and within seconds my arms and torso were ensnared. When I jerked back, they yanked forward, and I collapsed in a heap.

They’d caught me in a net like I was some kind of animal. It twisted around my legs; the harder I struggled, the tighter the string cut into my neck and face.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked. “Let me go!”

The two boys gathered the end of the net over their shoulders, turned away, and proceeded to drag me over the bumpy ground. The smell of rot and wet soil filled my nostrils as I flipped and my face came in contact with the earth. Through squinting eyes I looked up and saw the boy I’d been chasing keeping pace beside us. He grinned at me with yellow, crooked teeth. I swung to try to kick him, but only managed to flip myself over again.

“Help!” I shouted. “Help!”

The two boys pulling me stopped. They were older, maybe thirteen, and emaciated. Their ribs rose from the skin, leaving a hollow well where their bellies belonged. They both wore the same stained beige pants, shredded at the ends, and much too tight. An assortment of feathers were tied in their hair.

The boy on the right wheeled back and kicked me in the side. My arms were latched above me by the net; I couldn’t even protect myself. The air whooshed out of my lungs and I gasped for breath.

“Shuddup,” he said.

They didn’t take me far. Soon I heard other voices: Rebecca’s strident order to be let go and another boy telling her not to move.

I was released in front of my old roommate, who was seated with her legs stacked on their sides in a narrow clearing between two rows of trees. Her face was tight with fury. I forced myself up, but only managed to rest on my elbows as the net had now bound my arms behind my back. A second later, someone was tossed over the top of me, and the air was once again smashed from my body.

“Sean!” Rebecca cried. He rolled off, rubbing the side of his head, where a thin trickle of blood smeared down his temple.

“Little bastards,” he grumbled. There were now three more of them. Eight, counting those who had been here with Rebecca.

Behind us, an argument was ensuing, and I rolled over to my other side to see Chase surrounded by five more wild boys, all pointing handmade spears in his direction. The look on his face was a mixture of confusion and irritation. When he saw me, his eyes darkened, and a snarl drew back his lips. He attempted to get close, but one of the boys kicked him behind the knees, and with a grunt he fell forward.