The 5th Wave

Chapter 22

THEY ENTERED THE CLEARING, and the first thing they saw was the body of Corporal Branch, or whatever it was that called itself Corporal Branch.

"There's one over there," I heard one say.
The crunch of heavy boots in a bowlful of brittle bones. "Dead."
The cackle of a static frequency, then: "Colonel, we've got Branch and one unidentified civilian. That's a negative, sir. Branch is KIA, repeat Branch is KIA." Now he spoke to his buddy, the one standing by Crisco. "Vosch wants us back ASAP."

Crunch-crunch said the bones as he heaved himself out of the pit.

"She ditched this."

My backpack. I tried to throw it into the woods, as far away from the pit as I could. But it hit a tree and landed just inside the far edge of the clearing.

"Strange," the voice said.

"It's okay," his buddy said. "The Eye will take care of her."

The Eye?

Their voices faded. The sound of the woods at peace returned. A whisper of wind. The warble of birds. Somewhere in the brush a squirrel fussed.

Still, I didn't move. Each time the urge to run started to rise up in me, I squashed it down.

No hurry now, Cassie. They've done what they've come to do. You have to stay here till dark. Don't move!

So I didn't. I lay still inside the bed of dust and bones, covered by the ashes of their victims, the Others' bitter harvest.

And I tried not to think about it.
What I was covered in.
Then I thought, These bones were people, and these people saved my life, and then I didn't feel so creeped.

They were just people. They didn't ask to be there any more than I did. But they were there and I was there, so I lay still.

It's weird, but it was almost like I felt their arms, warm and soft, enfolding me.

I don't know how long I lay there, with the arms of dead people holding me. It felt like hours. When I finally stood up, the sunlight had aged to a golden sheen and the air had turned a little cooler. I was covered head to toe in gray ash. I must have looked like a Mayan warrior.

The Eye will take care of her.

Was he talking about the drones, an eye-in-the-sky thing? And if he was talking about the drones, then this wasn't some rogue unit scouring the countryside to waste possible carriers of the 3rd Wave so the unexposed wouldn't be infected.

That would definitely be bad.
But the alternative would be much, much worse.
I trotted over to my backpack. The deep woods called to me.

The more distance I put between myself and them, the better it was gonna be. Then I remembered my father's gift, far up the path, practically within spitting distance of the compound. Crap, why hadn't I stashed it in the ash pit?