“Those Reds weren’t exactly being careful.” He grabs my arm to pull my head down as a branch in front of us starts to shake. But it’s just some kind of animal, scurrying away from us up through the trees. Howl takes a quiet breath. “And they weren’t wearing masks either, so I hope that means we’re out of the danger zone for the gas cloud. I think they were probably just scouting, scaring away anyone left. Not clear-cutting.”
I nod, flinching as two birds take off from the tree next to us. We inch along through the forest until we come to a sunlit clearing, sudden brightness blinding me, the panic of suddenly not being able to see like a hand around my throat. But when the spots clear from my vision, it’s worse.
“Howl . . . what does this mean?”
Deep scars sit fresh in the bright green of new grass, scuffed footprints everywhere. Howl kneels on the ground, brow furrowed. He picks up two fist-size rocks and hands them to me. “It means June put up a fight.”
The rocks are covered in blood.
CHAPTER 15
HOWL DOESN’T BOTHER WITH CAUTION anymore, easily following the drag marks carved into the dirt. It only takes a few minutes before Howl slows to a walk and drops to the ground, peering through the scrub. I’m glad it isn’t a question of whether or not we help June, but how. Even if I hadn’t promised Liming to take care of his daughter, I wouldn’t leave her to the Reds, though it could mean more bullets coming our way, more blood on the rocks.
It’s nice to know Howl feels the same.
I drop next to him, catching my breath. He leans in close to me, whispering, “Do you know how to fire a gun?”
“We don’t have a gun.”
He pulls a handgun from his jacket and hands it to me, the magazine coming next. “Here’s another unspoken truth uncovered for you. Can you shoot it?”
I narrow my eyes but save my questions for later as I fit the magazine into place. My parents both liked to shoot with the Reds for fun, but I haven’t touched a gun since they were alive. No threat, bribe, or pleading would convince any Red to let me within ten feet of any firearms unless they were pointed at me. I was a fair shot when I was younger, but I’ve never pointed a gun at another person. Guns are for people who aren’t concerned with killing, and I believe my family quota for destroying human life has been used up.
Howl pulls a round, green ball from his coat. Black buttons protrude from each end and a finely etched silver design runs from top to bottom. Two pairs of waxy-looking cones come out next. “Here, put these in your ears. They’ll block out most of the sound.”
“Is that a grenade? It could hurt June too.”
“It’s a glorified firecracker. It could knock over the tent, but mostly it’ll just make enough noise to distract them. You get June. If things get hairy, use the gun.”
We creep up to the campsite; just a camouflaged tent with two packs lying on the ground outside. June’s cracked leather boots peek out from the open tent flap.
Howl inches into the clearing, grenade in hand. Pressing one of the black buttons, the ball breaks in half along the silver lines and he pitches the two pieces toward the tent, diving back behind the tree where I sit, wrapping his arms around me and pressing me into the rough bark.
The ground pitches and rocks around us, sprawling both of us to the ground. A blast of hot air screams past us, ruffling the trees and bushes, a few branches crashing down around us. The roaring sound in my ears dampens the shouts coming from the tent.
Howl rockets into the clearing, crashing into one of the Reds who is trying to extract himself from a tangle of fallen tent poles. I don’t pause to watch, pulling the earplugs out as I pick my way through the trees to the back side of the fallen tent. A man’s hand sticks through the ripped canvas, blood trickling down and dripping from his fingers. My heart stops. Howl said the grenade wouldn’t hurt June, but if this man was bleeding . . . I dart in and pull back the covering. The man stares up at me blankly, as if he can’t tell if he’s alive or not. A metal-framed pack lies on top of him, probably what knocked him over when the tent fell. There’s no sign of June.
I point the gun at the Red, feeling a little awkward about it. “She’s not here, Howl.”
The Red that Howl attacked is on the ground, Howl’s foot planted between his shoulder blades. He looks up from tearing strips of canvas from the tent to tie his hands. “Wasn’t she in the tent with that guy?”
The man stuck inside the canvas grimaces and pushes the pack off him, starting to sit up.
“Don’t move, please. I don’t want to shoot you,” I say. Not even in the arm, which is the best I can do as far as aiming the weapon at him. “Are you all right?”
Howl steps in to tie his hands, looking at me oddly. “My, aren’t you polite. This guy would have shot you without blinking five minutes ago. And he has probably beaten June to a bloody pulp.”
“Just because he’s forgotten that he’s human doesn’t mean I have.” The gun is steadier now, though still pointing at his arm. I don’t think I could miss with only feet between us. “Where is our friend? Tell me.”
The soldier shrugs, wiping blood from his cheek. He must not realize that the blood is coming from his hand and all efforts to wipe it from his face are just making it worse. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole southern garrison is here in five minutes. You two are as good as dead.”
Howl shrugs one shoulder. “So I guess it won’t matter if we just kill you now. One dead Red closer to breaking the City down.” He looks at me, waiting.
There is no way I am just going to shoot this man, but he doesn’t have to know that. I cock the gun, the loud click ominous in the quiet around us.
“Fine by me.” The soldier closes his eyes and starts to hum the City anthem. Thank you, Yuan Zhiwei. Inspiring this man to die for nothing.
I turn to look at Howl, unsure, but he is running toward me. And then there’s nothing.
CHAPTER 16
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES, all I can see is dirt. It’s brownish purple, peppered with little rocks that dig into my cheek. I slowly move my head, trying to figure out what happened. The gun is across the clearing instead of in my hand, and Howl is crouching a few yards off, arms up over his head. Why is he doing that? I wonder, my vision blurring around the edges. Oh. Because there’s another Red.
The soldier pushes June in front of him, arm wrapped around her throat, gun thrust into her messy hair. He must have heard us and dragged June away from the tent while Howl was assessing my marksmanship skills. Far enough away, the blast didn’t knock him over.
The leather of his jerkin is coated with mud, a grayish, dirt-streaked undershirt peeking through a few tears in the leather. His back is to me. Perfect.
The world swirling all around me, I drunkenly roll into a crouch, creeping toward the edge of the clearing, trying to force my eyes to focus on the heap of branches that fell when Howl threw the grenade. When I turn back toward the Red, Howl is on the ground, inching toward the two tied behind him.
“Untie them both. Now.” The growling voice sounds too loud, as though the man can’t quite hear after the explosion.
Howl makes a sudden move toward the soldiers, but the Red’s gravelly bark cuts him off short. “You do that again and she dies!”
I stagger onto my feet, ignoring a sudden need to vomit. The Red, fist full of June’s snarled hair, raises her up to her feet. “I’m going to count to three. If those ties aren’t cut . . .”
His deep voice grates against my ears, sending chills down to my toes. But he doesn’t look around to see me swing the heavy branch into the side of his head, knocking him out.
I drop the branch and try to catch June as she crumples to the ground beneath the Red. Blood streams down her face from a broken nose and a few shallow cuts on one cheek. Her green eyes are open and scared, one bruised black.
Howl grabs one arm and I take the other, and together we drag June toward the edge of the clearing. She lets her feet trail behind us, either too shocked or too injured to help.
Suddenly I wonder why we are running away from these men. They have supplies. Bandages and food. The ground pitches under my feet and I sink down, grateful to have a moment to think this through. But when I turn to ask Howl, I’m alone.