The Deadly Nightshade (20 page)

Chapter 37

As the weeks pass, I actually begin to enjoy hunting and patrol duty. With my new title I have the authority to plan and schedule our patrols, command my fellow group members, and—most importantly—make my own decisions. Of course, Nate still remains the head of the group and his word still outweighs mine, but he treats me as more of an equal than his second in command. Just like Reina predicted, I feel my new leadership role suits me.

But although my days in Sweetbriar have become more bearable, my nights have become less so. Every evening I enter the house with dinner for Connor and me, exhausted from work, and every evening I am greeted the same way: with stories about his day that always seem to center around Savannah. He rambles on and on for hours at a time about how she laughed at a joke of his or how well she works with the kids or how interesting and insightful one of the lessons she taught was. I soon become grateful for the long winter nights that darken the room not long after I get home and allow me an excuse to tell him to shut him up so I can get some well-needed rest.

As my group sets out on patrol one afternoon, I can’t help but realize I
am
bothered by Connor’s newfound interest in his coworker, despite what I told him. If he begins to like her,
really
like her, and she too falls for him, he’ll have a reason to stay in Sweetbriar. I can only hope his leg heals faster than their affection for each other grows.

Sheppard stirs me from my thoughts with a nudge of the elbow. “You alright, kid? You don’t seem like your usual self today. Something bothering you?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little tired, that’s all.” It isn’t exactly a lie. I
am
tired—tired of being here in Sweetbriar, tired of waiting for Connor’s leg to get better, tired of listening to his damn stories every night in the place of real conversation.

“You sure? You just look a bit distracted is all.”

Although I’ve been sure to remain aware of my surroundings since we left camp, I can’t help but feel Sheppard is right. This is neither the time nor the place to think about Connor and Savannah. This is the real world, and I need to remain on my guard.

“I’m fine, really,” I insist.

“Alright,” he says, “I won’t press. I don’t really know if you’re the talk-about-what’s-bothering-you type, but I’m always here for you if you need me, kid.”

I am unable to stop myself from smirking. This man always knows just what to say—or what not to say. There should be more Elijah Sheppards in this world. Then maybe it wouldn’t have decomposed into the steaming pile of shit it is today.

As usual, Nate purposely guides us away from the place where we left the three bodies, although I’m sure they’re long gone; wolves or some other animals have probably carried them away by now. Although nobody says a word, the tension in the air is almost palpable as we skirt the area, and it’s obvious that everyone is remembering the close call we had here. But in a few minutes we have left the place behind and five pairs of shoulders have slackened in relief.

We are almost at the third leg of the perimeter when Nate stops dead in his tracks and gestures for us to do the same. He points to something in the distance clearly visible among the thick brambles: a man’s figure standing tall and still. Although his face is blackened with mud—for camouflage, perhaps—he remains out in the open, staring at us. There is no gun in his hands, although a large knife hangs from his hip. As we all stand there, staring back at him, I slowly reach for my katanas, and in the corner of my eye I catch Sophia readying her bow. A moment passes. No one moves. Then, the man takes off running.

“Hey!” Nate calls after him. He takes half a step forward and then freezes, looking from the man to us with a face etched with worry.

“What do we do? Should we go after him?” Claire cries.

We all look to Nate for direction, but he just stands there, staring blankly after the fleeing man, his jaw tightly clenched and his chest heaving. The indecision in his brown eyes is visible, and in that moment I know he is not going to make up his mind in time. Although I am his second in command, and although I am supposed to wait for his order before I can issue my own, I use his hesitation as an excuse to take charge, shouting, “Follow him!”

The five of us take off running. Although we have no idea who this man is or whether he is dangerous, he is still on Sweetbriar territory, and he has still seen us. Whether he be a gang member or a harmless lone survivor, pursuit and capture are vital. As we start to gain on him, Nate yells repeatedly for him to stop, assuring him we won’t hurt him, but he keeps moving. Not that I can really blame the guy; I would have the same reaction if our places were reversed.

As hard as we push, as quickly as our legs move, we never close the gap between him and us. His lead is too great, and although I am fast, I am not fast enough; two months in captivity have left me sluggish. The distance between us grows and grows until he is completely out of sight. I bring the group to a halt.

As Claire, Sophia, Sheppard, and I come to a stop, Nate blows by us, ignoring my shouts telling him not to bother. It’s futile and he knows it just as well as I do, but he runs like a man with something to prove, and I don’t have the energy to go after him. He stumbles back to us a few minutes later, empty-handed, gasping for air, and staring dejectedly down at his feet, as if blaming them for not carrying him fast enough.

“What do we do now?” asks Sophia, still panting.

“He’s long gone by now. We chased him about as far outside of our territory as possible. I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about, but let’s finish up and get back to Reina so we can report it,” says Nate.

As we trek back toward Sweetbriar, my mind is overwhelmed by the idea that our man probably wasn’t just some harmless wanderer who happened to stumble upon us. After all, Sophia told me they never ran into anyone out here before Connor and me, so what are the chances of us coming across people twice in the same few weeks? And the way he stood there in the open, vulnerable, makes me think he
wanted
us to see him—he
wanted
us to know he was there. One word, one name pulses in my head, swims through my mind, latches itself to my brain, and spreads its black poison until it is all I can think:
Roman.

We return to Sweetbriar once we have checked the rest of the perimeter, and for the first time I am glad to be behind its stone walls and iron gate. After dismissing the rest of the group, Nate and I head to Reina’s house to report the incident.

The lieutenant does most of the talking. Reina remains more rigid than death as she listens, her eyes fixed on the desk in front of her and her hands folded neatly together. As I watch her, I notice a subtle change in her face—three wrinkles, just above the gap between her eyebrows. I don’t know why, but seeing them there brings me a strange sense of satisfaction.

“What do you suggest we do about this?” she asks after a long interval of silence.

“Well, for starters I think—” Nate begins, but Reina cuts him off.

“I was not speaking to you. You lost the chance to offer your opinion when you failed to make a decision and allowed that man escape. I was talking to Nightshade.” She turns to me with an expectant look in her eyes. “Well, what do you think?”

I look at Nate, whose dejected expression from earlier has returned, but his eyes refuse to meet mine. “Well,” I say, “I would suggest changing the biweekly patrols to daily ones. Even though it was just one man and we probably have nothing to worry about, it can’t hurt to be a little more cautious. I mean, better safe than dead, right?”

Reina breaks into a grin. “Brilliant—I would have said the same exact thing. I will increase patrols and warn the sentries too, just in case. I think you are right that we do not need to worry, which is why I will not mention it to the rest of the townspeople—there is no need to raise an unnecessary alarm. I trust you will let me know if you see anything else suspicious in the area.”

She dismisses us with a wave of her hand, and Nate and I walk silently down the staircase and out of the building. He wears that same dispirited expression until we are outside again, when he turns to me with a half-smile and remarks, “Looks like Reina’s found her new right hand.”

I look up at him in surprise. “What are you—? No, Nate, I’m not— I don’t want to be—”

“Relax,” he laughs, “it was just a joke. I know you’re not trying to replace me, Nightshade, and I’m glad you were there today.” He sighs. “Can I tell you something? I have a
really
hard time making spur of the moment judgment calls. Reina knows, but not many other people do. I just . . . I’m afraid of making the wrong decision. I’m afraid of messing up and getting somebody killed. I’m glad you made the call, Nightshade. Somebody had to.”

After Nate and I part ways, I head to the cafeteria and grab two dinner trays. As I walk back to the house, the black machete smacks against my thigh, a not-so-subtle reminder of why I am here in the first place. To think how different my life would be if I hadn’t kept the stupid thing, if I had left it with The Leader instead of taking it as a souvenir. I’m such a fucking idiot. If Roman had never seen that weapon he might have just gone on his way and let Connor and me be. Right now all I want is to be able to undo it all.

Connor is already lying in bed tossing his stress ball in the air when I arrive. Hearing me enter, he sits up to take his tray and immediately begins to dig in, eating like I might take his food away from him at any second. I place my rucksack on the floor and take a seat on my own cot, but I have no desire to eat. Instead, I put the tray aside and untie the machete from my hip, turning it over and over in my hands as Connor slurps his venison soup. Such a beautiful weapon. As I run my fingers along its blade, I can’t help but wonder how many people lost their lives because of this machete, and if Connor and I will be next.

In the corner of my eye I catch Connor open his mouth to blab about whatever nonsense happened at school today, but I stop him before he even begins. He stares at me for a long time, obviously sensing that something is wrong. He always does.

“I think we should leave Sweetbriar tonight when the sentries change shifts,” I say. “No one will see us if we time it right. All we’d have to do is climb one of the ladders to the top of the wall and then scale down the other side. The vines should make good enough hand- and footholds. It’ll be hard for you with your leg and all, but if we throw the crutches over first—”

Connor looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “Whoa, whoa, what the hell are you talking about? We’re not
escaping
from Sweetbriar. Have you lost your mind?”

“Roman is coming for us, Connor. If he finds this place then we’re dead.”

He places his head in his hands, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Nightshade, what are you
talking about?”

I explain to him today’s incident and what Roman’s man whispered to me before I killed him, a piece of information I had refrained from telling him before. As he listens, he doesn’t look up at me once, but just sits there shaking his head. When I finish speaking, he groans.

“This makes no sense. It’s been over two months now. Why would he still be coming after us? Why wouldn’t he have given up by now?”

“I’m under the impression you’re asking that question while assuming Roman is completely sane,” I retort. “I killed his brother, Connor. That’s not something people just forgive. I know I probably wouldn’t.”

“Look, I just think it’s a little far-fetched, you know? Alright, let’s say for a minute that Roman
is
still alive and he and whoever is left in his gang
are
on our trail. Don’t you think Sweetbriar is the safest place we could be? I mean, does it really make sense to leave?”

I look at him, unable to believe what I am hearing. I just gave him absolute, concrete evidence that Roman’s gang is coming for us and he has made a point of ignoring all of it. If he had any sense left in him he would climb that wall with me and put as much distance as possible between this place and us. But his feelings for Savannah have sucked it out of him, every last shred of it.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Connor,” I hiss, slamming the machete to the floor. “You’d really rather risk our lives than leave your girlfriend, is that it? You’re an idiot.”

Even in the waning evening light, I can see Connor flush. He stammers for a second, unable to think of a witty retort, finally managing to snap, “Savannah isn’t my girlfriend, alright? I already told you I don’t have feelings for her. You and I are staying in Sweetbriar because it’s what’s best for us. Do you really think we would last longer out there than in here with my leg the way it is?”

“I think your perception of reality would be a little different if you got your head out of her ass and started thinking about what’s important, like our survival!”

“You know what?” he snaps, grabbing the blanket beside him and pulling it over his body. “I’m not dealing with this or you right now. Goodnight, Nightshade.”

“Fine,” I hiss back, covering myself in my own blanket and lying down with my body turned away from him. He can ignore the facts all he wants, but if there’s anything I know for certain it is that Roman is going to find this place sooner or later. And when he does, I have no intention of being here.