Page 38 of The Infinite Glade (The Maze Cutter #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Delirious Daze

I saac’s brain almost broke itself right then and there as he stepped out of the Berg. The air smelled like rotten meat from a rotten animal who’d lived a rotten life. Next to a lake of blood, it was all just perfectly rotten.

“What the hell?” He turned to Old Man Frypan. “Is there a war going on here, too?” More than anything, he couldn’t believe the color of the water.

“Never saw anything like that before.” Frypan climbed off the Berg’s ramp and steadied his walking stick while looking at the blood-filled crater.

Erros explained like it was no big deal. “The Lake of Promise. It’s the mark of the Sequencers. Some kind of weird mineral or whatever makes it red. Who the hell knows.” It looked like a mark of death , Isaac thought as Erros handed him a box of supplies to carry. “Can you handle this?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure if Erros was referring to the heaviness of the box or the lake filled with blood, but the weight of everything together was starting to add up.

Kletter. The dead bodies on the Maze Cutter .

Being kidnapped by Letti and Timon. Lacey, Carson, Alvarez.

Finding out about the Remnant Nation. Finding out the truth about the Godhead.

Cowan in a coma. The Griever hunting her or helping her.

Ximena’s Village. Hollowers and half-Cranks.

The sacred site of the Maze in flames. Trish .

Isaac’s arms weakened at the thought of Sadina being alive without Trish or worse— being dead with her.

He shuffled the weight of the supplies and took a deep breath. “It’s heavy but I think I got it.”

Such a criminally simple thing to say when all the things of his life filled his mind.

“Thanks. Here.” Erros handed more supplies from the Villa to his brother. “Careful. You know how precious they’ll be about these.”

“Why don’t you carry them, then?” Cian replied. The man was incessantly annoyed.

Ximena stepped off the Berg last and avoided eye contact with anyone.

Isaac waited for her to chime in with some know-it-all thing about the lake or her second-sight feelings, but she was unusually quiet.

Jackie and Miyoko couldn’t take their eyes off the red liquid.

“Is there blood in it? What’s going on?”

“Oh the color? It’s always like that.” Cian shrugged. “My doofus brother said mineral, but it’s actually algae. Sometimes it’s more pink, sometimes more red.”

Erros tried handing a box to Jackie but she was too distracted by the lake. “Relax, the algae doesn’t bite.” He held the box in front of her until she finally looked at him and took it.

Isaac at least knew a little about something for once. “We have algae on our island back home, but it turns the water green. Never red.” He took a breath and turned to Jackie. “You good?”

She shook her head. He knew it was a dumb question.

“Where are we going?” Miyoko asked. Erros skipped handing her anything to carry and instead gave the next box to Ximena.

“The cliffs,” Cian said confidently. Isaac and Jackie both looked at Old Man Frypan, and he shrugged.

“Then what?” Jackie asked.

“Wait for the Senate to greet us.” Shockingly, he seemed annoyed by Jackie just like everything else. But there were still a lot of unanswered questions and hers had been a good one.

Isaac thought about Sadina’s mom and the Senate back home. How they never agreed at all on how to handle Kletter and what she’d wanted. It was the first issue he’d witnessed that divided the Senate so much.

“Frypan,” Isaac said as he shifted the box in his hands, “how come you never joined the Senate back home?”

“Yeah, you’re the smartest person we know and everyone respects you,” Jackie added.

Frypan smiled. “Aw shuck, I don’t know about all that, now.”

“It’s true,” Miyoko agreed with a smile. “And you obviously very well know it. But what are we doing right now? There’s no one here.” She scanned the secluded land around the crimson lake, rocky and flat all the way to the cliffs. “Didn’t you say we were meeting someone?”

Cian looked at Isaac disappointedly, as if he were actually supposed to have filled her in on things, somewhere between finding Kletter’s logbook and finding Trish’s body.

“They’re supposedly underground,” Isaac mumbled to Miyoko.

The whole thing still seemed totally absurd and fantastical to him.

“They were part of the original plans of WICKED, or before WICKED, something. I don’t really know how to explain it.

Mainly because I don’t know what the hell is going on, either. ”

“My family, well . . .” Frypan looked at Jackie, “people who might be my family, are around here somewhere. Supposedly, like Isaac said.”

“They’re here, don’t worry.” Erros continued to organize supplies and button up the Berg. “And if not, then not much matters anymore, anyway. Maybe one of us should stay and watch the equipment.”

“Bullshit, you’re just scared.” Cian smacked his brother playfully before lifting the air container and shoving it into Erros’ chest. “Come on, then.” He began to lead the way around the lake, heading toward the tall cliffs of granite. “No one’s going to find us here.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” someone muttered.

Isaac didn’t catch who.

Orange’s singing stopped all at once, as if it had never even happened.

There were no lingering echoes. Death had to be playing tricks on him.

Guilt and regret must have also overwhelmed his moments of peace because he was pretty sure the shadowy figure in front of him had just said his name was Kit. But it couldn’t be. Impossible.

“Kit?” Minho coughed out. “Am I dead?”

“Roll on to your side and I’ll cut your combat ties.”

Only soldiers called them that. Minho rolled over and coughed some more until his arms fell freely to his side.

“Kit . . .” He lifted his head. “Orange?” His vision was blurry but it looked like only the fire remained.

No soldiers—none standing, anyway. Piles of them scattered the ground, however. What on earth had happened?

“Oh, you’re worse than I thought.” Orange. It was Orange! Best death-faker in history. Her voice came through clearly until she turned around to speak to someone else. “Gather what we can. Quick.”

“Orange . . .” Minho had so much he wanted to say, but he could barely say her name.

He rubbed his shoulder and somehow got himself to his knees, pain ripping through his every inch.

“Kit . . . ?” He shook his head and tried to wipe the gasoline and blood out of his eyes, but he couldn’t lift his arm well enough.

His shoulder had broken in at least one place, maybe two. “What . . . ?”

“Just relax,” Orange said. “Turns out a lot more Orphans were on our side than the Grief Bearers. Didn’t take much to finally turn them.

So relax. We have some time till others come into the Maze to find us.

” Minho heard the clicking and stacking of weapons as Orange shuffled around to pick off the dead soldiers.

Seemed like didn’t take much hadn’t been the most accurate of descriptions. A major understatement, in fact.

He coughed for the millionth time, his lungs fighting for their next breath. “What happened?” All he remembered was feeling like he was back on the Maze Cutter , in the open ocean, with Orange singing him to sleep. And then silence. “Did I black out . . . what happened?”

“Traitors got tortured, that’s what happened.” Orange clacked rounds of bullets into a gun. “And this kid was about to be next on their torture buffet for whatever he did.” She snapped and clicked another weapon. “What did you do, kid?”

“It’s Kit , not kid,” the boy said, lifting the straps of weapons on to his shoulders.

Minho coughed until he laughed. “Kit, you really remember me? I stopped your beating in Hell, you were . . . you were . . .” He struggled to find the words after so many boots to his brain.

“Almost as beaten up as you are right now,” Kit said, nodding his head. “Of course I remember you. I’ll never forget. Good to see you, brother. It’s an honor to know your name, now.”

Minho, overwhelmed with emotions, could only say three words. “Orange . . . Kit’s alive.” He tried to stand but fell back into the wall of the Maze. Orange helped him situate his legs and feet under himself.

“Relax, you’re coming out of it,” she said, but Minho wasn’t going through what soldiers called the delirious daze , from being beaten to a pulp. He was alive because Kit was alive .

“Kit . . . from Hell,” Minho sputtered. “I’m . . .”

Kit beamed with an inner pride. “Yeah . . . escaping Hell is what got me arrested and brought here. I found a tunnel, stabbed some Grief Bearer in the sewer, and would have made it out if I could have killed him and worn his cloak. But that damn cloak was made out of something thicker than hog’s hide.

” Kit gently wiped Minho’s face with a rag so he could see better.

“Couldn’t get my knife all the way through.

Lucky for me, they loaded up for war and brought me along. ”

“I think you mean unlucky for you, lucky for us,” Orange replied, tightening her boots.

Minho took slow, shallow breaths and held his side, applying pressure—maybe he could snap them back into place. “The Great Master’s cloak is like that. Some sort of rubber . . . cloth . . .” He coughed. “It’s . . .”

“Take it easy, we need a plan,” Orange said. “Save your breath. I’m going to put these on you, okay?” She hung the strap of a gun around Minho’s broken shoulder; even the weight of it felt like heavy joy. From this point on, if he died—he’d die like a soldier, fighting.

“Your stab wound eventually killed the Great Master, Kit.” Minho couldn’t tell if it was laughter that escaped his lungs or just more broken-up coughs. “That man . . . I found him with the cloak you’re talking about, stabbed. He’s dead, now.”

“I killed the Great Master?” Kit’s voice cracked.

Minho nodded as best he could. “You’re the best soldier I know.” His face was too swollen to smile, but inside, Minho felt more pride and joy and love than he’d experienced in a long time. “Kit . . .” He tried to say the next phrase as loudly as he could, hoping the young soldier heard it clearly.

“I’m proud of you.”