Page 31 of The Infinite Glade (The Maze Cutter #3)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Something Much Worse
L as desgracias nunca vienen solas .
Misfortunes never come alone, something Ximena knew well but wished she didn’t have to learn from experience.
She looked out the window of the Berg and shifted her weight below her.
Within the next twelve hours, Carlos would likely arrive back at their Village in search of her, to yell at her for all of the damage she’d caused at the Villa and the risk she’d put her mother and Mariana in.
But Carlos wouldn’t find her hiding under one of Abuela’s handmade blankets, and he’d still have no idea that his wife and the future he’d planned with her were already both dead.
She cracked her knuckles thinking about how worried he’d make Abuela before she returned home, but she trusted her grandmother’s inner-knowing wouldn’t let Carlos spin her into unbearable sadness.
Ximena looked back at Isaac, leaning against the Berg in all his islander misery.
She didn’t have the luxury the islanders had to fall apart as their world crumbled.
Her whole life had been one loss after another, but she didn’t get to break down—she had to keep pushing forward, and from Ximena’s inner ears all the way down to her big toes, the skin holding her body together tingled.
She’d never had such a physical reaction to an inner-knowing or second-sight before.
Something worse was coming. Algo mucho peor.
Ximena pushed all of her fingertips together to try to calm her body, but nothing helped the feeling subside.
She wished she could have asked her Abuela about this type of knowing, an inner-knowing that brought such an intense explosion of feeling, but she couldn’t count on anyone right now.
She closed her eyes as she walked up to Cian and Erros piloting the Berg and imagined what her grandmother might say to her if she were there.
When there is pain there is death.
And where there is death there is rebirth.
She looked out the pilot’s window but could barely see the colors of the aurora.
Cloud cover from the smoke of war hung in the sky.
The next island , her inner-knowing shouted louder than she’d ever heard it.
It didn’t make any more sense than her earlier knowings, but it was the loudest knowing she’d ever felt in all her sixteen years.
“There. That one.” She pointed to a small inlet ahead, barely visible through the smoke. “That next island right there.”
“Huh?” Eros turned to her, but she didn’t want to have to explain.
“There! We have to land there. Drop them off, and I’ll take you to the Sequencers.” She folded her arms in front of her heart as it pounded louder and louder.
“It’s too dense with trees; we can’t risk the damage,” Erros said to Cian. “Remember the last time?—”
“I know, I know,” Cian said, continuing to steer over the island.
Ximena’s head pounded with her own heartbeat—it felt like if they didn’t land right there at that island, right then, that her intuition would somehow revolt from the inside out and cause her body to burst every last blood vessel.
Her inner-knowing became so cantankerous and painful that if she didn’t follow it, she feared the worst.
“It’s vital to the Sequencers that we land there. Please.” She didn’t shout, and she didn’t throw herself over the controls like poor Isaac had tried to do. She simply said it in her quiet, exhausted voice.
Cian looked over to his brother.
Erros swept the hair off his forehead. “Dammit, I actually kinda believe her.”
Ximena’s head pounded a little less.
“Fine, there’s a landing spot south of here from the looks of it. And there seems to be at least some sort of shelter on this island.” Cian pushed and pulled controls on the dashboard. “Wheels down. Prepare to land, and you all can make yourselves at home.”
Ximena gave a sigh of relief as the tightness and tingling in her body calmed.
Whatever was on that island must be important to the Sequencers somehow.
She looked over her shoulder at Frypan and Jackie consoling Isaac.
They’d be fine as long as they had each other.
She, on the other hand, had no idea what came next.
The islanders had ruined her mission to destroy the Villas one by one, and now she had to lie in order to get them to where they wanted to be, only to have them turn on her.
She put her hand on her knife, the one for which her mother embroidered an eagle on the sheath for Kletter.
A symbol of truth. Her inner-knowing became more and more frantic. But also clear.
The truth is a weapon.
The truth will remain buried.
The truth is a weapon.
Don’t let the truth stay buried.
Cian piloted closer to the island and as he circled, looking for a spot to land, Ximena couldn’t help but notice the shelter he’d mentioned looked unmistakingly marked with black-painted doors. “That’s a Villa . . . ?” Ximena asked Erros.
The two brothers squinted to see what she’d seen below as they finally initiated landing in a clearing meant for a satellite Villa.
“Could be . . .” Erros said to Cian. The others stood up, not realizing how lucky or unlucky they were about to be.
Cian untied his red scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around his head for some reason.
Ximena rested her forehead against the window of the Berg. “It is. I’m telling you.”
“Well . . .” Cian descended the Berg closer, then touched down. “We’ve never found this one before.”
He looked over at his brother and smiled.
Orphans think about death more than most.
The Orphan named Minho had always known one thing about his own death—that it wouldn’t be quick.
In a Berg transformed into a prison, Minho planned on savoring every minute of the long flight to Nebraska before they reached the fortress and its lowest level, Hell.
His lungs burned with each breath, but he knew much more pain awaited him once they landed.
He’d enjoy this temporary pain as long as he could.
“Any plans?” Dominic whispered over the engines, just enough for Minho to hear.
Minho only ever had one plan. “Fight.”
Dominic nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“What’s going to happen to us?” Sadina had too much panic in her eyes, and panic would only help to get her killed more slowly.
The Remnant Nation liked to watch prisoners suffer like animals.
Minho just shook his head to answer Sadina’s question.
He should have spent more time instructing the group, but he never imagined that in all the years the Remnant Nation trained Orphan soldiers to kill the Godhead that the Remnant Nation would actually and finally leave Nebraska and do it.
For decades upon decades, the only time an Orphan soldier left the Remnant Nation was after a cliff ceremony. And even then, they always came back.
Except Minho.
He never wanted to go back. Which made their capture and flight to the Remnant Nation even more disappointing.
The Orphan looked around at each person he had grown to care about.
Dominic . . . they’d probably torture him by starvation.
Sadina . . . she’d likely be killed first just for the crying.
Roxy . . . she didn’t deserve any of this.
Orange . . . Minho felt the most sorry for her because the Remnant soldiers would keep her barely alive, on death’s door—or as Minho called it, Hell’s floor—for weeks until she begged them to kill her.
He’d overlooked Alexandra because she was slumped so far into the corner of the cage in her oversized wool cloak, she practically disappeared into the pile of fabric.
A wave of relief washed over Minho.
He did have a plan, after all.
He had the Godhead—or someone who claimed to be the Godhead—the one thing the Remnant Nation came to Alaska to destroy.
Two thumps from the bottom of the Berg startled him out of the thought. The only noise from the bottom of a Berg when flying is the release of landing gear.
“Orange.” Minho tried to get her attention as the Berg decelerated.
“We’re not going to the fortress.” But Orange’s bruised face was still lifeless.
Minho’s heart sped up, his eyes darting to watch the soldiers as the Berg prepared to land.
Where were they headed if they weren’t going back to the Remnant Nation?
He just assumed they’d go there, be taken to the lower floor called Hell, and tortured.
“This is it? We’re landing?” Dominic looked at Minho, but the Orphan didn’t have any clue what might happen next.
Minho knew the rules in Hell. He knew step-by-step what the Grief Bearers would do once they got there, what they would say, and every way he might possibly escape.
But that would now do him no good. As the Berg landed quickly with a series of thuds, Minho could only tell the islanders and Roxy one thing.
“Don’t say a word. Not a whisper. Heads down.
” He looked at Sadina, right in her eyes to add, “and whatever happens don’t scream. That’s exactly what they want.”