The Starborn Saga (Books 1, 2, & 3) (4 page)

The brightness from the flashlight is burning over me. I hold my breath to keep as silent as possible, though it will do no good once the guard decides to lift the tarp. 

The guard does a quick scan of the bed with his flashlight and turns it off. “You’re right,” he says. “Duffy, let him through.”

“Yep.”

I can’t believe my luck as I let out a silent victory cheer. 

“Connor, you need to get back on time from now on.”

“I just want to find him, you know?”

“I know you do. Everyone knows you do. But you still have to follow the rules. The protection we provide only works if the people of the colonies abide by them.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Connor says. “I appreciate the advice, Frank.” Connor opens the truck door, slips inside and turns over the ignition. 

“It’s not advice, Connor. It’s the rules. You follow them, we leave you alone.”

“If you guys left me alone I’d have no one to talk to.”

Nothing more is said as Connor drives forward, and I assume through the colony gate. We drive along at a slow pace for several minutes until he finally brings the truck to a stop and cuts off the engine. My first instinct is to jump out of the bed, but I still don’t know if eyes are watching us. Connor opens the cab door and slams it shut. 

“Stay down,” he says, standing next to the bed. “People are coming up.”

“Guards?” I ask.

“No, but it’s not the best idea for people to know you’re here. Word will get out, and well, you know what’ll happen.”

I say nothing as Connor steps away from the truck, probably to keep some distance between me and the others who are approaching. 

“Little late aren’t you?” one of the voices calls out. 

“Sorry about that. Guess I drove out a little too far.”

“Find anything?”

“Nothing, you?”

“Nope.”

“I know how much it means to you to find him,” another voice says. 

“Well, we’ve got three more days until Screven guards declare him dead,” one of them says. “Three days is plenty of time.”

“Them,” Connor says. 

“What?”

“You said declare
him
dead. Aaron went with three other people. We’re not just looking for
him
.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Forget it,” Connor says. “I’m just tired.”

There are a few moments of silence. The heat under this tarp is becoming unbearable. My breath and sweat creates an uncomfortable condensation that does nothing to cool me in the heat. Though I’m curious to hear more about what’s going on, my body is ready for them to shut up and go away. 

“I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

The shuffling of slow-moving feet and a few farewells indicate that I might be in the clear, and finally Connor lifts the tarp. The outside feels like an air conditioner as the cooler atmosphere hits my skin.

“nnoth="2emClose call,” Connor says.

“You’re a smooth talker,” I tell him. 

“Sometimes you have to be to mess with these people. Come on. I’ll sneak you over to my place.”

I take his hand as he helps me out of the bed of the truck. Again, my leg throbs and I almost cry out, but I’m able to keep it in. 

The truck has been parked at the top of one of the hills under a wooden shed. Looking around I can see a lot of small huts and shacks. Most of the homes are stacked on top of each other like apartments. I suppose having a place with twenty thousand people requires close living spaces, especially to provide room for all the gardens scattered about. 

“How do we get to your place without being seen?”

“Most people are in for the night,” he tells me. “Just walk with confidence, don’t limp too much and nobody will think anything about you while it’s dark out.”

I let go of his hand and walk beside him, trying to cover up my limp as best I can. My ankle doesn’t hurt like it did earlier, so that’s good. It’s my cut. Looking down, it seems that it has been reopened. Connor was right. It needs stitches.

Noticing the worried look I have, Connor says, “I’ll change the bandage when we get back.”

“Can you sew?”

“No, but I can stitch,” he says with a wink.

“Good. I could do it, but I think I’d be a little distracted with the pain and blood and all that.”

“You’re living in the wrong world to be afraid of pain and blood.”

“I’m not afraid,” I say defensively. “I’m just saying I don’t know if I can concentrate on sewing up my leg.”

I stop talking and we walk for a few minutes until we reach a small hut buried among shrubs and trees. 

“This is home,” Connor says. 

When I look up, I see a thick, wooden pole with spokes sticking out of it, leading to a wooden box maybe fifty feet above the roof of the house. 

“That’s the crow’s nest,” Connor says. “We built it so we can see over the entire colony. With a good set of binoculars you can see a greyskin herd from miles away.”

“We?” I ask.

“Me and my brother.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a brother. Is he here?”

“No, he doesn’t live with me anymore,” Connor says as he opens the door. When we walk through the opening, Connor turns and uses his lighter to start up a few lanterns that illuminate the room fully. There is a set of stairs that lead upward and a few doors that I assume are other rooms or bathrooms. The living area has a couch pushed up against the wall, and the other side of the room leads to the kitchen area.

It’s a lot like my home in Springhill: it’s simple and only what is necessary. It’s more like a very tiny house than a lone shack, and it’s not attached to other buildings like so many places around it. What this one lacks, however, is my grandma’s touch. She always likes to decorate a place as much as possible to give it a real homey feel. I’ve never really cared that much about it, but it gives her something to do and keeps her mind occupied. Our home always felt comfortable and welcoming. Unlike this place.

“Let me take a look at your cut,” he says as I plop down on the couch. 

He goes into the kitchen and pulls out a much larger medical kit than the one in the truck. 

“You have no shortage of those, I see.”

“One can never be too careful,” he says. 

He kneels in front of me and holds my leg gently, then begins to unwrap thekino unwra bloody bandages. It still hurts. 

He shakes his head. “I know this will sound awkward, but you’re going to need to take off your pants,” he says.

I feel my cheeks burn bright. For some reason I can’t stop blushing in front of this guy. “What?”

He can’t help but laugh at my reaction, but I’m not laughing. “Sorry,” he says. “I just need to wrap up your leg properly.” He reaches over to the side of the couch and hands me a large blanket. “Here you go. Just cover up with this. I’m going to wash my hands and I’ll be back in a second to stitch you up.” 

I don’t say anything as he leaves the room into the bathroom. I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed. I guess it’s because I’ve never been in a position like this, or maybe it’s because I know nothing about Connor. But at least he left the room. 

Somehow I manage to take my knife strap and jeans off without brushing against the cut. I set the pants on the edge of the couch, wishing they weren’t so torn up and bloodied. It’s not like I brought an extra pair. 

Knowing an unfamiliar man is about to touch me when I’m not wearing pants, I cover every inch of my body up to my neck, leaving only my injured leg exposed. It’s almost unbearably hot under the blanket, but I don’t want him to get any ideas.

He cracks open the door in the bathroom and calls out. “You ready for me?”

“Yes,” I say, feeling silly. He comes out with clean hands and kneels in front of me again. He pours peroxide on my cut and I can’t help but wince, but it actually doesn’t hurt as bad as I expected. He pulls out his lighter, sterilizes the needle, and then threads it. He looks up at me and asks if I’m ready. Biting my lip, I nod. 

The pain is terrible. It feels like he’s stabbing me with a knife instead of a tiny needle, but I do my best to hold my composure.

“So, you have family in Springhill?” he asks me, probably to distract me. 

“A brother and a grandmother.”

He nods. “I never got to meet my grandmother.”

“What about you? Just you and your brother?”

“Well, just me for now.”

The next stitch brings a sudden, sharp pain, worse than the others. I almost scream, but all I let out are heavy breaths.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m no doctor.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “So, what do you mean that it’s just you for now? Is he gone?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Been gone for four days.”

It hits me. The person he had been searching for was his brother. 

“Aaron, right? You said you were looking for someone named Aaron? He’s your brother?”

“That’s right,” he said, focusing on my stitches. By this point, I hardly notice them. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say. 

“Sorry about what? He’s not dead. Not yet. We’ve got three more days to find him until the Screven guards make that official.”

“So, you’ll go out again tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’d stay out all night if they would let me. I’ve pushed Krindle’s buttons too much to pull something like that, though. He’d have me locked in the Vault for a week if I stayed out looking for Aaron days at a time.”

“So, they really do take control of everything don’t they?”

“That they do. It’ll be something to think about while you’re on your way to Screven.”

I see his point. But what would they be keeping us from doing? I don’t really know why anyone from my village would want to go ot mwant tout in the greyskin-infested land. I want to ask Connor why his brother and others had gone out, but I decide not to keep talking about him. It doesn’t seem like something Connor would be willing to discuss much longer. 

“There,” he finally says. 

I look down at my thigh and see a fresh row of stitches. “How many?”

“Eighteen,” he answers. 

“I’ve never had stitches before.”

“Keep traveling out of your village and I’m sure you’ll need more,” he says with a grin. He wraps my wound with a new set of gauze. When he finishes, he hands me a pillow and I keep the blanket around me. He also brings me some water and a few slices of bread. The couch is soft enough. I’m so tired that I doubt I’ll have any trouble sleeping. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” he says to me. 

“Thank you,” I tell him. “Your help means a lot.”

“Sleep tight, Mora.” 

CHAPTER THREE

I don’t wake until the sun shoots its rays through the tiny crack in the shades onto my tired eyes. I’m not sure if I even moved last night. I know I didn’t wake from my dreamless sleep until now. 

I sit up and look around the room. All is quiet. I think it’s still early, but it seems that I’m alone in the hut. I pull down the blanket and remember that I’m not wearing pants. I unwrap the gauze and see that my stitched leg looks a lot better than it did last night, but I’m not going to mess with it, so I wrap it back up.  

I reach over for my pants and find them neatly folded on the edge of the couch. Unfolding them, I see no bloodstains and there’s a patch over where Connor had cut them open. He fixed them for me in the middle of the night. I can’t help but grin at this – that a complete stranger would be so nice to me. 

I slip on the jeans quickly, but carefully so as not to aggravate my wound. Standing up, I call out Connor’s name, but I get no answer. Either he’s a sound sleeper or he’s not here. I strap my knife to my left, non-injured thigh and walk to the bathroom, able to move on my leg a little easier than last night.

Hopefully there’s running water. I turn the cold nob and am relieved to see there is plenty. I cup my hands out to catch the running liquid and splash it over my face. There’s a mirror above the sink and I can’t help but notice how tired I look even after a night of sound sleep. 

Yesterday was a nightmare. If I hadn’t woken in a strange place, I would think it had all been a dream. But here I am in Connor’s shack. I take my hair out of the ponytail and instantly change my mind as I put it right back up. I cup my hands again under the running water only this time I bring it up to my lips and drink. Nervousness creeps into my body and I have to close my eyes to keep the anxiety from turning into a physical trembling through my spine. I don’t really know why I’m so worried. This trip just hasn’t turned out like I had imagined it would. 

As I walk out of the bathroom I take a look around and make my way into the kitchen when my stomach rumbles. I didn’t have much to eat yesterday. I look through the cabinets only to be disappointed by the lack of food. There are plenty of dirty dishes in the sink and scattered across the countertops. I can’t he thglp but wonder why there are dirty dishes and no food. And there are no remnants of the bread Connor gave me the night before. I had devoured it as soon as he had left the room. Must have been the last of it.

When I look at the kitchen table I see a piece of paper. It actually has my name on it, so I sit and read it.

Mora,

Gone to a meeting. Be back in a little while. Stay in the shack. I won’t be long. 

Connor

Stay in the shack. Where else would I go? I’m not about to walk outside in the bright morning for the entire colony to see me. 

I set the note on the table and look at a dirty butter knife that had been left out for who knows how long. A smile forms at the corners of my mouth as a thought suddenly strikes me. Looking over my shoulder, I call out again.

“Connor?”

I just want to be sure. 

Satisfied, I stare at the butter knife again. This time, I want it to move. Nothing happens. I shake my head at first. I was able to move cranes yesterday, wasn’t I?

I lift up my right hand, letting it hover a few inches above the butter knife. Now it moves. At first it’s more of a shaking. Then it begins to slide across the table. I want it to float in the air. It obeys me. 

With a twirl of my fingers, the knife is held suspended in front of my face and begins to spin at whatever speed I wish. No matter how fast it goes, I never lose control of it.