Page 23 of The Infinite Glade (The Maze Cutter #3)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nations of Remnants

T he Berg launched toward the sky, roaring and creaking and shaking.

It soon flew smoothly enough, and the inside compartments were a lot cozier than the one in which they’d been handcuffed—that metal beast ultimately crashed.

Isaac and Jackie roamed around the cabin as Cian and Erros piloted.

“Sort of reminds me of my yurt back home . . .”

“Yeah, they don’t clean up after themselves either.” Jackie pointed to a scatter of animal hides and piles of weapons in the back corner.

“It’s lived in,” Isaac suggested, deflecting her subtle jab at his home.

“You trust them?” Jackie whispered. “I still think they’re bad news.”

Isaac didn’t know who or what he trusted anymore. “I trust Ximena,” he finally said, looking over his shoulder at the Spanish-speaking spitfire and Old Man Frypan by a window.

“But . . . these guys.” Jackie lowered her voice even more. “We know nothing about them other than what they told us. They could be from some other Godhead for all we know. Or Mars. Or criminals.” Jackie said the word Godhead as if chewing a piece of fish with too many bones.

Isaac shook his head. He’d seen his family die, had been kidnapped, killed Cranks, stood inches away from a Griever, and he just wanted to reunite with his friends and go back home.

He went through his mind and listed the facts he knew to be true.

“They fed us. They saved us from the Hollower. And they’re going to get us to Alaska to find the others a lot quicker than we could have without them .

. . and that’s all I care about right now. ”

Maybe they were terrible people, and maybe they were lying about all the bonkers frequency and sequence stuff. But Isaac just wanted to get back home. Means to an end and all that.

“What about her?” Jackie motioned to Ximena. “I didn’t care if she wandered off on her own, but from what we’ve learned, are you really going to let these guys just . . . take her? After they drop us off?”

Ximena was smarter than Isaac, maybe even stronger than him, too. “I think she’ll be okay.” And he meant it. He imagined there wasn’t much out there that Ximena couldn’t survive.

“Well, I think she’s hiding a whole bunch of things.”

Isaac had found himself believing or wanting to believe every single thing Ximena had said since they met her.

She was so sure of herself and pushed for the truth so hard, that he didn’t think she could possibly lie.

But of course that was some serious naivety.

He looked over at her and noticed her shoulders were slumped and her head hung down.

She no longer appeared confident in the least. “Oh . . .”

“Yeah . . .” Jackie whispered. “And what do you think will happen when Cian and Erros drop us off and find out she lied to them?” Jackie gestured to the pile of weapons. “Those look like weapons they’ve collected from other people. . . .” People who are now dead , her eyes concluded.

“Why can’t one thing—just one—be simple? Ever?” He sighed at Jackie then calmly walked over to Ximena. “You really know where the Sequencers are?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer.

Which was an answer.

Frypan might throw out a Double shuck just about then . Jackie had an I told you so look plastered on her face.

Isaac’s head spun with all he’d learned in the last twenty-four hours.

Kletter doing trials on Ximena’s Village.

Ximena being the last born of her entire town.

Sequencers and families hidden underground.

There were just too many questions that Isaac needed answers to.

And unlike Kletter—who never said more than she needed to—Cian and Erros were willing to tell them things.

Maybe Isaac shouldn’t leave Ximena alone with them, after all.

But that would mean sacrificing himself, and possibly never seeing his friends again. Any of them.

“You don’t know . . . do you?” Isaac asked to belabor the point.

“I’ll figure it out.” Ximena lifted her head before lowering it again.

“We’ve got a stew cooking here, don’t we?” Old Man Frypan said. “Let her cook.”

“But if she doesn’t know —” Jackie began but Frypan cut her off.

“She knows a hell of a lot, this young one. She’s just simmering is all.”

Ximena looked up at Frypan with sad eyes. “ Gracias . I’ll get them to take me to the Master Villa once we drop you off. There’ll be something there I can use in my favor—I know it.”

“That’s your grand plan?” Isaac’s worry increased tenfold. “Go to the Master Villa and see what you can find?”

Ximena rolled her eyes. “You should be thanking me. They didn’t want to waste their fuel on you.”

“Well, yes. Thank you for getting us to Alaska,” Jackie said, but Ximena didn’t look overly appreciative for the gratitude.

“You should be thanking me for going to the Master Villa to destroy whatever I can, because somewhere in their records is where Annie Kletter got the coordinates to your little island of Immunes.” She said each word with increasing ferocity.

“And who knows how long it will be before someone else even dumber than Kletter is sent out there to gather more of you.”

Her words, gather more of you , stabbed Isaac in his other calf.

His feet felt pulled from under him. He never thought their island could be at risk all over again.

Old Man Frypan cleared his throat. Jackie just shook her head.

Isaac thought Kletter’s journey had been a once-in-a-lifetime lucky shot at finding them, not a coordinated plan with actual coordinates.

His eyes stung as he thought of everyone back home. Their lives were at risk.

“You didn’t think of that, did you?” Ximena asked him, and that did it.

Made his decision for him. He would stick with Ximena and go to the Master Villa, to provide any help she might need.

But most importantly, he planned to destroy all records pertaining to their island of Immunes. Especially the coordinates.

This time, as Alexandra approached the Villa, she was free from all harm. No traps. No trip wires. No axes. And there it was, hidden in the tall pines. The Villa.

“Come,” she called behind her to the others. “It’s right here.” She couldn’t believe the smell of fires hung in the air this far out into the Alaskan islands. The Goddess looked at the skyline, a faint red glow of her city turning to ash with the aurora dancing above it.

“Careful,” Orange said. “There’s wires along the tree there—they must have alarms set or something.” She pulled on one of the wires like an idiot. “Let me go first.”

“No. Those have already been spent.” Alexandra straightened her oversized cloak and double-checked that the Book of Newt remained secure. “Come. Now.”

There was no clear path to the Villa. Create the path by walking , Nicholas used to say.

She hated that all of his quips and phrases and words of wisdom still knocked around her brain, but most of those ideas, thoughts, and beliefs weren’t even his.

He’d pretended like all the wisdom he shared was his own genius, but most of it was stolen straight out of the books he’d hoarded in his library.

He allowed Alexandra to have her innate knowledge, the knowing that came with her evolved virus and her sequencing that she could tap into from the Infinite Glade, but he forbade her from the history and books in his library.

A slow smile spread across her face and she realized all of those books, every last one of them, everything Nicholas had once owned and loved, was gone.

Up in flames. Ashes. Dust.

Alexandra had no sadness for the loss of things that were never hers.

She had the one and only thing she cared about.

“We’ll go in first, make sure everything’s clear,” Orange said, but the Goddess was accustomed to walking into rooms before her Evolutionary Guards.

“Clear?” Alexandra scoffed. “No need. It’s just three little ladies testing combinations of the Cure. If anything, you’ll startle them, I’ll go in first.” This was her city. Her Villa. Her Cure.

“But if there’s?—”

“I said, I’ll go in first .” Alexandra walked to the door on the lower level and opened it slowly.

She had arrived back to the Villa sooner than the scientists probably expected, but for good reason.

And with the Orphans and their guns, the Goddess could get the women to give her everything she wanted this time.

Everything she wanted for the Evolution and more.

“Hello . . .” she called into the empty room. Echoes replied.

Minho and Orange stepped in front of her, their guns drawn to inspect each room.

Alexandra recited the digits in her mind.

If they insisted on meeting the women first, fine.

She walked into the next room with books lining its walls.

She would soon be writing new history for all future generations.

The fire of St. Petersburg was tragic, the most destructive and stupidest thing Mikhail could have done, but the Goddess would use all his failures to her advantage.

Every last one.

After all, those lowly Pilgrims of the Maze would be dead, all the crum of the city would be wiped clean, and Alexandra could now populate the city with those who chose the Cure.

No more need to campaign and convince them to join the Evolution.

She’d be better off rebuilding from scratch, with better citizens—trusting, moldable inhabitants .

. . like the Immunes. Alexandra turned and smiled at Sadina.

“Come, they’ll want to meet you.” She pulled Sadina along with her into the next room.

Empty.

“Hello . . .” Alexandra announced herself louder. Apparently scientists went to bed as soon as the sun set. She’d wake their tired little brains and get them on their feet. “Wake up! Rise to see your Goddess!” She walked through another darkened room.

“They already know about me?” Sadina let go of Trish’s hand and clasped Alexandra’s.