Imaginer

51 - Where They Arrive at the Sanctuary

      At the mention of my injury, the woman’s eyes narrowed. “Kicked?” she repeated, her brow low and fierce. “The Guiders seem to be un-evolving with every new batch of injections.” Her eyes travelled to Jacoby, who had dried blood on his face. His nose had stopped bleeding once we’d entered the tunnel, but he pressed a hand gingerly against it at her stare.

      Leo nodded, his face no longer light, his mouth set in a straight line. “About seven, eight Guiders at Harlington Park.”

      “Seven or eight?”

      “About.”

      Mrs. Campbell sighed. “Was there anyone else with you?” she asked, directing the question at the three of us.

      “No, there wasn’t,” Beatrice answered. She glanced at us before adding carefully, “We think they might’ve been tailing us for a while.”

      “How long?”

      Jacoby said thickly, “A week and a half, maybe?”

      “All right. At least they didn’t take you.”

      I gulped. They took Sam, though.

      “So that’s it?” said Jacoby. “Is it”—he held a finger up to his nose—“concerning, that the Guiders made it this far?”

      Mrs. Campbell smiled. “We’ve had closer calls. The only thing concerning is that you three came alone, with no adults.”

      We exchanged glances.

      “Are we…Are we supposed to come with adults?”

      The lady laughed. “No, no. Children usually come with adults. I’m actually impressed you were successful.”

      I gave Jacoby’s shoulder a push and smiled at him when he glanced at me. He’d been on top of everything.

      “Well, I gotta go tend to my dogs,” said Leo. “Clean ‘em up a bit. See you guys later.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze and waved before following the trail back to his house.

      Mrs. Campbell ushered us inside and down a short set of stairs. The walls in the house were made of the same rocky material, the natural indents and holes used for storing items.

      “This way.” She pulled out three stools for us to sit on by a scrubbed round table and disappeared into another part of the room. She came back with a moist towel and handed it to Jacoby, who nodded. “What are your names?” she asked.

      “I’m Jasslyn.”

      “Jacoby.”

      “Beatrice.”

      Mrs. Campbell nodded and gestured for me to move closer to her. “We should patch up that hand first.” She went and fetched a towel, antiseptics, and gauze before cleaning my hand. It made my eyes water upon contact. My hand throbbed even after she finished dressing it.

      “Come back tomorrow so I can change these,” she said with a tap to the bandages. “Now, let’s have a better look at your ribs.” Her fingers were gentle when they pressed into the side I pointed at. All the same, I yelped as pain bloomed across my bones.

      “Could you lift your shirt a little, just so I can see it?” She glanced at Jacoby, the only boy in the room, but before she could ask him to turn around, I shook my head and told her it was all right—I wouldn’t be flashing anyone anything.