I watch Avery put one arm around Miles’s shoulder and shift his support from the fountain, training the gun on Miles’s head. Avery shouts to me, “Miss Newhaven!” and I move toward him as if to give my assistance. For a fraction of a second, he lowers the gun to stretch his arm around me, but it’s all the time I need.
I reach into my back pocket, pull out my opal, and throw it toward the rock where Nome is hiding. She stands, catches it, and in one smooth movement, cradles it in her slingshot, pulls the band back, and fires. Avery screams and, dropping the gun, falls backward, tripping over the edge of the fountain into the water. He rises, flailing in the water, as blood spurts from where the gemstone is lodged deep in his eye socket. Then, just as suddenly, he collapses and falls face-first into dark water. His body pops up like a cork and he floats facedown as a cloud of red forms around his head.
54
MILES
THE AFTERMATH IS MESSY. THE CLOUDS HAVE moved away, and the moon is once again visible, casting a silvery light on the lawn. It looks like the scene of a Civil War battlefield, with dead animals and people strewn around, and wounded lying groaning in the mud. The animals that weren’t hurt have disappeared into the forest. It’s over.
Juneau’s people have captured a group of eight guards. The men stand in a circle, hands in the air, as Nome and Kenai point guns at them and wait to be told what to do.
Juneau’s expression is haunted as she turns to go to her people. No matter how she felt about Whit in the end, his death traumatized her. Her eyes are red from weeping, and she presses the heels of her palms into them and takes a deep breath. “I have to take care of things,” she says.
“I’m right here beside you,” I say and scoop up two industrial-sized flashlights that I just scrounged from the garage. Juneau runs her hands through her dripping hair, straightens her clothes, and marches over to the group of prisoners. They squint and frown in the beam of my flashlight.
“Who’s here?” she asks, and looking around the darkened battlefield, lets out a loud musical whistle.
Her clanspeople run over to join her. They’ve swapped their rustic weapons for their enemies’ guns.
“I’m going to organize getting us out of here. Is everyone okay with that?” There is a general murmur of consent.
“Elders, do you grant me authority?” Juneau calls. There is an uneasy silence, and one woman steps forward.
“Juneau, dear, during your absence we gave up all authority we once held and abdicated our right to make decisions for the clan. You’re in charge here.” She steps back, taking her place among the rest of the clan.
Juneau looks uncomfortable, but nods. “All right. Let’s start. Is anyone wounded?”
“Sterling’s shot in the leg, but she’s going to be okay. Palmer’s with her,” someone says.
“There’s a doctor in the garage taking care of Cordova,” says Juneau. “Go tell him he’ll be tending to Sterling next.” The woman nods and jogs away from the group.
Juneau points to two teenage boys that are standing by. “Homer, Tok, you do a sweep of the lawn. Pick up the weapons, even from the dead, and pile them on the front porch. We don’t want anyone regaining consciousness within reach of a machine gun.” The teenagers whisper a few words to each other and then take off in different directions.
“Elders, take one of these men down to the barracks. Have him show you where the vehicles are. Drive three of them back here.” The three elders nod and, taking one of the guards by the arm, lead him away.
Juneau faces the group of prisoners. “This is how it’s going to work. We’re giving you three vehicles. You take care of your dead and wounded. Load them into the vehicles, and then leave immediately.”
She turns to a tall, thin woman with sandy hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Esther, look after the animals. The rest of you, assist her. Animals that are dying, send them back to Gaia. If any need more care than you can give them here, load them into a truck and take them into Roswell.”
Juneau turns to one last clan member. “Lakes, come with me.” She takes the gun Lakes is holding and hands it to me. “Guard the captives with Kenai and Nome,” she orders, and then whispers, “Please,” and gives me a secretive wink.
Juneau and Lakes walk a ways away, and Juneau begins explaining something to him. After a minute, it looks like they’re arguing. Lakes is upset about whatever she’s telling him. But in the end, he seems to give in, and the two walk back to us, Juneau with her chin-up expression and Lakes looking grim.