The Replaced
Page 52

 Kimberly Derting

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“Why? What’s happening now?” Suddenly tic-tac-toe with my buddy didn’t sound half-bad.
Buzz Cut just thrust her chin at the other girl once more, and Natty was towed away through the gloom, toward the cafeteria.
I told myself it was fine and tried to channel my inner Billy Pilgrim—the whole And so it goes attitude. But telling myself it was fine and convincing myself were two different things, and the acids in my stomach surged with anticipation.
Although I could see fine in the dark, it would be easy to get turned around in a camp like this, where the tents were so packed together, each looking like the next. I stayed close to Buzz Cut as she slipped in and out among them.
The night air was crisp with the smell of scorched clay, and my feet crunched lightly in the sand beneath me. Above us, the night was perforated by thousands of white lights that were somehow brighter out here in the middle of the desert, probably because it was so dark.
When Buzz Cut finally stopped, somewhere near the edge of the tents, I examined the stars. From where I stood, I could almost imagine they were far-off fireflies, swarming, and emerging from the sky to warn of a taking.
The last time I’d seen the fireflies, I’d been holding Tyler’s hand and assuring him everything would be okay, while wishing with all my heart that was true. I’d give anything—anything—to undo what I’d done to him—taking him to Devil’s Hole, exposing him to my blood . . . falling in love with him in the first place. If I hadn’t done that, then he never would have been hurt at all.
And then, I wouldn’t be here right now.
“I thought maybe we were gonna have to send a search party after you.” Simon’s voice was barely a rustle, stirring the cooling night air around me.
When I spun around, he was there, watching me intently with those copper eyes of his. His arms were crossed casually over his chest as he leaned against the canvas wall behind him. “Simon,” I exhaled on a shaky laugh, breathing easier now that I knew he was alive. “You’re okay.” I still had about a million and one questions for him, but I started with “What about Willow and Jett and Thom? Have you seen them? Are they okay too?”
“I haven’t seen them, but they’re fine,” he assured me before I could ask anything else. He looked to Buzz Cut, who nodded, almost like she was confirming what he’d just told me.
But that couldn’t be right, could it?
My gaze shifted, alternating between him and Buzz Cut. “I . . . I don’t understand . . .” I faltered.
Simon’s eyes crinkled as he pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward me, his eyes appraising me as if he could see as clearly in the dark as I could.
“I told you . . . we have allies here.”
No. Uh-uh. No freakin’ way.
I’d seen the way Buzz Cut had smacked him with her gun. I mean, she’d shattered his nose. And, honestly, if looks could kill . . . Simon would’ve been lying in a ditch somewhere, not standing here grinning like he’d pulled one over on me. On everyone.
“Shut. Up.” But I was already starting to believe it, because she was just standing there, wearing that same stupid grin on her face. “But I thought . . . ,” I stammered. “Don’t you hate him?”
Simon shrugged. “An act,” he said.
“You broke his nose.” Even I had a hard time thinking an ally could do something so brutal.
The corner of her mouth slid up. “Had to make it believable.”
Simon frowned at her and rubbed his nose. “Yeah, well, it was believable, all right. Maybe next time you could take it down a notch.”
She lifted one shoulder. “We’ll see.”
And then Simon did that same chin-lift thing at her that she’d done at the girl who’d taken Natty away. “Can we have a minute, Nyla?”
Nyla.
It was weird not to think of her as Buzz Cut. To give her a name—a real name.
But it was another thing altogether to see her as an ally.
I guess you never knew about people, and where you’d find someone you could count on.
“Sure. But only a minute. I gotta get her back,” Nyla answered, glancing around vigilantly.
“I knew you had a name,” I couldn’t help mentioning under my breath before she’d sidestepped us.
She just curled her lip at me—a very Willow-like response.
Out here, beneath the stars, was about as private as you could get. We were on the edge of their desert camp, where it was dark and isolated and quiet. I breathed deeply, taking stock of the distant landscape of withered trees and rocks and an endless black sky.
“What now?” I asked when Simon came to stand beside me. His relaxed stance wasn’t at all what I expected. “Do we make a run for it?”
His voice, when he answered, was gentle. “I could stand here and look at this forever. It’s easy to think here.”
“And that’s a good thing?” I paused to examine him and he wore a bemused expression.
“Depends.”
Shrugging, I flashed him a wistful smile. “Sometimes it’s worse to think. Sometimes I feel like . . .” I stopped myself because I wasn’t sure how to finish my own thought. That even though I had nothing but time, I still couldn’t sort things out? That being here made me realize how lonely I really was?
Or that even though I missed Cat and Austin, and the way things used to be before I was returned, I’d started to miss Simon even more?