Page 148 of Serpent In White

While I make my way, strolling the trail that brings me through their housing, rows and rows of trailers, I contemplate this whole thing. ThisplaceI find myself in…

I can’t deny that running away from reality feels good. I would never say I don’t understand these people’s desire to leave society behind. I mean, the terribleness I’ve experienced alone makes me want to hide from life, all the damn time.

I’ve only ever lived in the States, but it’s not exactly as fabulous as us Americans try to make it seem, or some other countries think it is. They glorify the USA as the best damn place on Earth, but beneath the surface of our shiny, apple pie-scentedland of the freeis a dark, seedy underbelly; a prism of evils unlike anything God probably ever imagined when He, or She, created the earth.

Mankind in general has turned this planet into something disgusting, but America really takes the cake as far as cruelty, dissonance, and a blatant disregard for the conscience we so actively try to convince others we have in spades. Maybe it’s just because this is where I live, but I’ve had many friends from other countries, and for everything I love about America there seems to be three things I can’t even believe I actually live amongst.

But all of that said, even though I totally get the idea behind wanting to flee the bullshit and take up refuge here in a place that’s sustained as well—almost miraculously so—as the Expanse, I can’t help but see through their rose-colored glasses.

Call me a negative Nancy, but I’m actually just a realist. I don’t think Utopia’s exist, and I feel like if I lived here, I would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s about a half-hour walk from the lake to the mountain. Once you get past housing and all the scattered locations for things like school and manufacture, you reach the crop fields. Rather than going left in their direction, I stick to the trail on the right, leading me closer to the mountain.

At its base is a different field, which is heavily guarded by their patrolmen. Abdiel told me they’re called theTribe, which is good to know, since they’re the dudes who have been following me and watching my every move since the moment I emerged from the mountain with him. I guess their job is to protect this place, which begs the question…from what?

If it’s really as harmonious a commune as they all make it seem, then what’s the need for all the secrecy? The masked dudes on ATVs with machine guns strapped to their backs.A bit excessive for a place that doesn’t even use money, no?

My bet would be on the field before me. Abdiel told me it’s called theField of Influence, and that different things are grown there. From the smell, I know they must be growing cannabis, but that can’t be it. With that level of security, it’s like they’re sprouting nuclear weapons from the soil.

I want some answers. Not because I plan on leaving and going to the press or some dumb shit. I don’t care about anything like that. I just want to know for my own peace of mind. I want to know why these people are so hardcore dedicated to Darian. Why they treat him like a literal King, and what his brother’s role is in all this.

I’m…curious.

And yes, I know curiosity killed the cat, but maybe that bitch was a simple house cat. I’d like to think of myself as more of a ferocious feline. A jungle cat, disguised as someone mousey and small.

Shaking it away, I cringe at the thought. IwishI had that sort of confidence. That’s the person I was supposed to be until that scumbag ripped it all away.

Swallowing my unease, I wander over to the entrance of the field, a trail that will take me to the lab, based on how Abdiel and I came up here yesterday. Only I don’t get very far.

“Where you think you’re going, stray?” One of the guards mumbles from behind his bandana. All I can see are dark eyes, narrowed at me as if I’m the enemy.

It’s pretty alarming. But I force myself to straighten.

“I wanted to see Drake,” I insist.

Both of the guys are quiet for a moment before they burst into two equally loud, booming bouts of laughter.

“Look at this girl,” one of them sighs. “Thinking she can just waltz in here and demand to see The Alchemist. Who the fuck do you think you are, little one?”

“Yea, who do you think you are?” His friend repeats, and now they’re both glaring at me, sliding their guns forward from where they’re hanging, strapped to their shoulders.

Gulp. “I think I’m a guest on your beautiful land.” I step forward, shaking like a leaf and trying my hardest to hide it. “Says the Head Priest.”

“He doesn’t want you here,” one of them growls.

“No one does,” adds the other.

My fingers are trembling, the quivers of my nerves trailing all throughout my extremities. I want to keep arguing, but I’m afraid if I speak again, my voice will tremor.

I’m just about to turn around and bolt, when a deep voice calls from somewhere behind them. “Let her in.”

The two guards straighten, obviously recognizing the voice without having to turn around and see who said it. I recognize it too, though I’m facing him.

There he is, with his charcoal black hair, longer on top, hanging down almost into his eyes. Equally dark brows resting above two orbs of swirling light and dark… the eyes of a serpent.

The guards back up and say nothing, simply nodding to the trail. Inhaling deep, I stumble around them, toward the tall figure. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, glaring down at me as I approach. He’s got a good foot on me, so he really has to angle his chin downward to make eye contact. And I have to pivot my face upward to look at him.

He certainly has a menacing look to him, and he’s quiet, inquisitive, which is probably scarier than someone loud and in your face.