The Deathless Trilogy

1.33. Run Away

Metal and concrete fly through the hot air around me, and my skin feels like it's burning. I am thrown into one of the bushes, and the branches scratch open my raw skin. I let out a pained groan, breathing in the smell of burning hair and smoke. Dirt from the hollowed earth covers me. My vision blurs, so I close my eyes to stop it, but that only makes the world spin around me.

Dad. I have to make sure he's okay.

I fight through the pain and stand. A fiery hole has taken the bunker's place in the earth, and Gunther's tank still waits ahead of us. Thank goodness we were able to pass it before the bunker exploded, otherwise we would have been welded to its side.

Dad is on the soft grass a few feet from me. I scan the area quickly for anyone watching us from the tank or the woods, and seeing that no one is, I limp to his side. "Dad," I say, shaking him. "Dad, wake up." His eyes flutter open, but they are still vacant. He must still be knocked out.

I hear movement from inside the tank, as I assume Gunther and his soldiers are probably herding the knocked out survivors away from the door. This is my chance to save one of us. I have to get Dad to safety.

We are a few weeks' hike, maybe less, from our old house in Pennsylvania. Once Dad comes to, he'll be able to take care of himself. He'll know where to go.

I guess this is Dad's hike to DC this year. The Prowlers took him here, now all he needs to do is get back.

I shove General Sato's gun in his hands. "Run, Dad. Run home. Run to Mom. Go north. Do you understand?"

He nods, and I help him to stand. "Tiger Lily?" he says. The sounds from the tank get louder.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I am so proud of you," he says blankly, still knocked out.

My heart could burst. That's all I need before sending him off. "I love you, Dad. Now go north, up highway 95 like always. Run as fast as you can."

He does exactly as I tell him to, and I watch him run away from me. He is proud of me. He may have criticized me for not hunting, but our good times far outweighed the bad. There was the time that—despite his masculine façade—he braided me a dandelion flower crown for my thirteenth birthday. He told me I was Queen of all the teens, and I rolled my eyes at him before deciding to wear the crown all day. Then there was the time he taught me how to carve wood and create pieces of artwork, but the lesson devolved into me watching him transform branches into sculptures. I was mesmerized by what he could create with just a knife, a branch, and his hands. I remember thinking how strange it was that he could use a knife so brutally when killing an animal, but turn around and use the same knife so delicately when creating a sculpture out of wood.

I can't help but think that, like his sculptures and flower crowns, he also used great delicacy in transforming me into the person I am, the person who may have just saved all of those lives from the bunker. The person who just saved his.

With me to deal with, Gunther won't have any desire to gather a search party for Dad. I hardly think he will realize he's gone, but me, the person who thwarted his plan... he'll notice if I run.

The sounds from inside the tank become louder, as someone shouts for everyone to step aside, so I prepare to create a distraction. I run back to where I was thrown, fall into the bushes, and begin to moan in pain. At first it's fake, but the more I allow myself to feel it, the more I actually realize how hurt I am.

I hear the door open, so I moan even louder until Gunther and one of his soldiers are standing over me. "She just refuses to die, doesn't she?" the soldier, a Captain by the looks of his uniform, asks. He looks familiar. How do I know him?

Gunther examines me, wiping the dirt from my face. "Bring her onto the tank, and get her to the infirmary. Let Crowley know when he's conscious."

The Captain reaches into the bush to grab me, and, cradling me in his burly arms, moves me to face Gunther. Another soldier comes toward us and injects me with something.

Gunther squints to examine me. "The sedative won't work on this one," he says. "She's special." He turns to walk away, but not before giving the Captain a whispered order.

"Welcome aboard, Isla," the Captain says, smiling and adjusting his grip on my body. He draws his arm back, his hand balled into a fist, and slams it into my face.

And now, finally, I'm knocked out.