Distant Lives//Book Two of the Separate Entities Trilogy

Chapter Seven

All was silent in the cage, save for the pounding of my racing pulse in my ear, almost perfectly synchronized with the heavy footfalls outside. No one spoke, but we didn't need to - we knew they were wights, and even the slightest peep would blow our cover. 

As we burrowed under the putrid hay covering the ground of the cage, my eyes began to adjust to the darkness and I noticed Jacob was to my direct left. I grabbed his hand, just as Emma was doing on his other side. He turned his head to face me and offered up a meager smile, squeezing my hand in silent comfort. I couldn't quite bring myself to smile back.

Outside, a wight began speaking with the Gypsy leader. "We're looking for a group of children. They were seen this morning walking along the road," the wight said in an accent I couldn't quite place - it was neither strictly German, nor strictly English. "There's a reward for whoever finds and captures them."

"We haven't seen anyone but ourselves the whole day, sir," replied the Gypsy.

The wight grunted. "Don't be fooled by their innocent looks. They're traitors. German spies. The whole lot of them. The penalty for harboring them . . ."

"We aren't harboring anyone or anything. You can see for yourself," the leader said. At his words, I felt my heart, formerly in my throat, drop to my knees.

"Don't mind if I do just that," said the wight. "Be warned, if we find any of them here, I'll personally shop of your tongue and feed it to my dog." And then the wight marched off.

"Don't. Even. Breathe," came the leader's whispered voice before he too walked away after the wight.

If I had been any less scared for my life, I might have pondered the reason why the Gypsies weren't turning us over. But I was scared - scared shitless - and there was no way I was going to spend what could very possibly be my last minutes alive worrying. I thought of a saying I'd always hated because it sounded stupid: "Don't look a gift-horse in the mouth." Hell no, I wouldn't.

Outside the cage we could hear the wights crashing their way through the Gypsies' camp, leaving no stone unturned. Boots kicking metal. Wood doors slamming against wood walls. A child's scream cut short by a harsh slap delivered by something wooden. Even if I hadn't previously witnessed the wrath of a wight, with a still-healing scar on my left arm and Millard's hastily-sealed shoulder wound to show for it, I would still think of them as barbarians for what they were doing to these people who hadn't even been convicted of anything - yet.

I felt the person to my right stir - Hugh. He crawled over to Bronwyn's unsinkable trunk and was about to open it before the strong-girl rested a hand on top of his. "What do you think you're doing?" she mouthed.

"We've got them before they get us first!" he replied, so quiet I could barely hear. Emma lifted herself slightly and practically rolled herself towards them. Jacob squeezed my hand once more before he followed her. After a few seconds of hesitation, I followed too.

"Don't be silly, Hugh. They'll shoot us to smithereens if we throw the eggs now," Emma reasoned, her voice barely even a whisper.

"Then what are we to do?" he replied, and I could see his frown despite the incessant darkness. "Lay around here until they find us?"

Then the rest of our little group was huddled around the trunk, each of us hoping to God that the wights were making enough of a ruckus outside that they wouldn't notice us.

"We'll wait until they unlock that door," began Enoch. "Then I'll throw an egg through the bars at the very back. That should distract them long enough for Bronwyn to smash the skull of whichever wight tries coming in first, which will give the rest of us time to run. We'll go to the outer edges of the camp, then turn and throw our eggs to the center campfire. Everyone in a thirty-meter radius-" he paused, puffing out his cheeks and imitating an explosion with his hands as a pshew left his mouth, finishing the sentence for him.