The Extinction Trials(67)

“Remind me again,” Alister said, “what number indicates friendliness? What’s the friendly number?”

A sound caught Owen’s attention—a rustling deeper in the woods. Was it from the camp?

He refocused on the conversation, where Will was talking. “We must establish a working vocabulary.”

“Nonsense...” Alister’s voice faded as Owen turned and took a step toward camp.

Fog drifted through the trees like it had on the island. The sound came again, the crunch of a limb.

The group was arguing now.

A crash of metal and plastic breaking shattered the conversation. Owen spun around and found Alister stomping on the radio. “It’s done! We’re not responding. We’re going now. End of discussion.”

“Alister, you fool!” Cara cried. “How could you—”

Blair’s scream ripped through the forest like a knife through Owen’s heart.

“HELP!!”

His body moved before thoughts formed. He ran in long strides, bounding toward her through the trees, jumping logs and dodging limbs.

“Get away!” Blair yelled.

For a moment, he considered calling out, but decided against it—that would only give him away. That would be a disadvantage if he needed to fight.

At the camp site, Owen slid to a halt. There were two figures with hoods on. One was lifting a duffel bag up, the other was holding Blair down, who was pushing back. Both wore the same black sweater Owen had on.

They were Extinction Trials participants.

Owen held his hands up. “Stop.”

The figure with the duffel bag turned and sprinted into the forest. The one holding Blair released her and darted away.

Owen chased after them, mentally wondering if he should simply let them go. But he couldn’t. They had the only food the team had.

Behind him, he heard Maya’s voice speaking softly to Blair. “Are you okay? Where did they go?”

Owen was closing on the figure, and when he was in striking distance, he lunged, burying his shoulder in their back, wrapping his arms around the torso. To his shock, the sweater kept collapsing until he was hugging a body that was unnaturally skinny, nearly inhuman.

He collapsed to the ground on top of the figure, feeling as though his body were crushing them.

Owen jerked the hood off, revealing a man’s face with a gray beard and sunken, wild eyes. His cheeks were gaunt, as though he was on the verge of starving to death.

He tried to break free, but Owen held the man tight. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The man cast about with his hands as though he were drowning, looking for anything to gain purchase—or perhaps a rock or stick to strike back with.

Owen studied the face. He knew this man. He had seen him once in his life before. In the hospital, during the Fall.

Parrish.

The man was older now and clearly in poor health.

Owen opened his mouth to speak, but Parrish used his momentary shock to reach out across the ground again, grab a rock, and smash it into Owen’s head.

The world spun and went dark.





Chapter Fifty-Three





Maya raced through the forest toward Blair’s screams. The trees and brush slowed her, but Owen blazed right through them.

He was used to running through dangerous environments—and enduring pain as he went. His body had clearly adapted to it long ago.

Soon, he pulled so far ahead, Maya couldn’t even see him.

When she reached the camp, Blair was standing, clutching a duffel bag, tears streaming down her face.

Maya wrapped the younger girl in her arms. “Are you okay? Where did they go?

“I’m fine,” Blair said, her voice shaking. “There were two of them. They took one of the duffel bags of food.”

“Where’s Owen?”

Blair pointed into the woods. “He chased them.”

Without another word, Maya rushed into the woods, listening for sounds of movement, ducking and swatting at the limbs as she went. She considered calling out, but her instincts screamed for her to remain silent.

To her left, she heard someone rolling through the leaves, then voices speaking, the words too quiet for her to make out.

It was Owen.

She changed course and charged ahead, heart pounding, legs aching from the exertion, nerves overtaking her.

She stopped at the sight of Owen. He was lying still on the ground, blood running from the side of his face.

“Cara!” she screamed into the fog-filled woods, not caring who heard or who came. She would fight them if she had to.

She dropped to her knees, reached out and felt Owen’s neck. His heartbeat was strong. He was alive.

She bent close to him, her lips close to his ear.

“Owen,” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

She sat up and tilted her head back, and she was about to yell again when Cara’s voice cut through the fog. “Maya!”

“Over here!”

Cara arrived a moment later. She dropped to her knees and methodically checked Owen over. From the medkit, she drew out a small tablet and broke it at his nose. He inhaled sharply and writhed, but Cara had a firm hand on his head.

“Easy.”

His eyes opened slowly. They were watery and vacant looking.

“What happened?” Maya asked.