“Then let’s not waste another second,” I say, and walk to the door.
We move out, the eight of us—Bishop, El-Saffani, Bawden, Visca, Aramovsky, Gaston and me. I’m trying to do the smart thing, but the truth is I’m acting on a hunch. The bracelet might be a weapon, might let us take the Garden and hold it against monsters or any other threat.
Hunch or no hunch, I’ve made my decision.
And if I’m wrong, I know it will be the last decision I get to make.
THIRTY
We run uphill.
There are many footprints in the dust. The biggest ones are Aramovsky’s, the medium-sized ones are from O’Malley and Yong and Spingate.
The smallest ones are from me and Bello.
I see the same bones, the same burn marks on the walls, the same open archway doors. Through those open doors, I see coffins. I know corpses lie inside them.
There are new footprints as well, along the corridor’s edges. Those are from El-Saffani. The twins are once again out in front of us, ready to be the first to face any danger.
El-Saffani is shirtless, as is Bishop. All the circle-stars—Bawden included—wear only pants. They have covered their faces, chests, arms and hands with caked gray dust. The twins had beautiful, caramel-colored skin. Bawden’s was a light brown. Visca’s had that pinkish hue.
Now all five of them are the same color.
Bishop is at my right side, the thighbone clutched in his hand. Aramovsky and Gaston are behind us. Bawden and Visca bring up the rear.
We move in silence for a long time. We move fast, or at least as fast as we can with Aramovsky and Gaston. They were slow to begin with and are already tiring. They will have to keep up. We have a long way to go to reach the place where we met Bishop and his marchers.
When we first made this trip, we were walking, we didn’t know where we were going, and we moved cautiously because we didn’t know what would come next. Now the distance goes by so much faster, although there’s still plenty of time to think.
Latu told me her coffin was already open when she awoke. I haven’t had a chance to ask the others about their experience—did anyone else have to fight for their life?
“Bishop, tell me about when you woke up.”
He explains as he runs.
“We were in a cradle room. El-Saffani, me and Coyotl. The door to our room was shut.”
“How did you get out of your coffins? I mean your cradles.”
He shrugs. “They were open.”
Same as with Latu. “There was no pain? What woke you up?”
His brow furrows. It’s strange to carry on a conversation with him now: his eyes look so white in contrast with the gray paste caked on his skin.
“I think there was a little tingling sensation,” he says. “I woke up kind of slow. A little bit at a time, you know? The cradle was open, so I got out.”
Sounds like the same mild electrical shock that woke Spingate.
“And the door to your room? How did you get that open?”
“After we were awake for a little while, it opened by itself,” he says. “We walked out and started running into other groups. That’s when I got everyone organized.”
No snake-tube attacking him, or Latu or Spingate or anyone else. No needle. No pain.
So why me?
We run on in silence. It isn’t long before we leave the archways behind and see nothing but blank white walls on either side—we will be at the place where our two groups met much sooner than I anticipated.
I hear Aramovsky breathing hard behind us, hear Bawden hissing at him to pick up the pace, and I can’t help but smile.
We keep moving. I figure we’re more than halfway there when Bishop glances at me.
“Savage, you know what’s funny?”
“I think you can call me Em now, Bishop.”
He considers this, then shakes his head. “I can’t remember much, but I know what the word savage means. It fits you.”
I blush. He doesn’t mean it as an insult. Coming from him, from a circle-star, I think it’s a compliment.
Maybe it is, but not to me. I think of how I lost my temper back in the coffin room, how I pointed the spear when I yelled at Bishop and the others. Was I doing that to make things clear, or was I implying a threat against anyone who would not do what I said?
Bishop grins. His teeth seem so bright compared to his darkened skin. “Savage, you kind of lose track of things a lot, you know that?”
I nod. “Sorry.”
“So, do you want to know what’s funny or don’t you?”
“Sure,” I say. “What’s funny?”
“If we took a vote now, with the people in this group, I wonder who would win.”