"So, wait," Sam chokes. "We've been racing around all of Mor Island looking for the Edda. As of yesterday, Amelia's threatening to nuke the place if she doesn't get it right now. And it turns out Morag's had it all along?"
"Is that..." My voice sounds much more timid than I'd like, but I can't help it. "Is that really the Edda?"
She nods at the bag in Tom's hand. "Take a look."
Tom opens the bag, pulling out a book with a white leather cover bound in rubies. He flips through the pages, his chest rising as he inhales sharply at the Old Norse that he can understand bits and pieces of. He doesn't know much, not as much as Jody, but he knows enough to know if this is what we think it might be. "This is real. I'll keep it safe, Morag."
She seems satisfied with that.
"Oh, crap," Sam says, and ice floods my veins. "Morag, I don't know how, but you might be right about the skincoats hearing your thoughts. There are three of them converging on the grain store right now by the three paths that lead off that corner of the island."
"We'll scramble down the headland, tell Amelia we have the Edda," Tom says, his tone firm. We quickly leave the silo, racing down the stairs and out the door. "They might have skincoats, but she's got armed soldiers."
"Will she call off the nuclear attack?" Morag asks.
"Not until she has the Edda," I answer.
Sam lets out a fearful noise. "Oh, one of them spotted you. Five, you lead the way. Run!"
I take point as told, grabbing my pistol from its holster and glancing around as I run, trying to find any sort of gray amongst the green grass and blue sky. No more playing nice. No more waiting. We may be running, but I won't hesitate to put a bullet through any of these skincoats.
They'd rather see humanity die than let us use the Edda to save the world, all because it would mean some kind of change for their island.
Why are they doing this now? The Edda has been missing from their island for hundreds of years, just now having been brought back. Did they not want to leave the island to search for it? Why only care about it now that it's been returned for them to steal? That doesn't seem very much like a group clinging to tradition if they weren't willing to even search for what is one of their most significant books relating to tradition.
My blood feels like it's boiling under my skin in anger. A part of it is due to my inner thoughts, although a lot of it has to do with the fact that I haven't seen a single skincoat coming after us as we run. I don't doubt Sam—no, of course, I don't. It makes perfect sense that they'd be after us now, especially if what Morag said about them being able to see through other people's eyes as well as their own in the group.
But they're insanely good at hiding. A part of me wonders if they were only seen those few times because they wanted to be seen. After all, we didn't see them until after Jones had died. And with how fast-acting they seem to be, I highly doubt they simply banded together after Jones was taken care of.
No, they've been working behind the scenes this entire time, although they must not have been as good as they like to believe when it came to finding people since they never could find Jones. They must have known about some of this and stayed hidden, waiting to come out at just the right moment.
My irritation at them only burns brighter.
"I've raised Amelia," Sam says after a few minutes, much to my relief. "She's sending a boat from the Undaunted to meet you. You need to keep along the cliff path you're almost on. She'll meet you at the far beach."
"The skincoats will try to stop us." Morag's voice shakes. "They're everywhere."
Tom's brows pucker in thought. "I don't suppose you made any copies of the Edda? Just in case we don't make it to the beach?"
Disappointingly, she shakes her head. "I know you don't believe me, but it wouldnae have been a good idea to think about the Edda even a little bit. Lachlan was right. The skincoats know what people are thinking on this island. Once you've had the dreams of the redness, of the skincoats, you're part of it, too. He always drank glacial meltwater. Said that kept the dreams at bay."
He hums. "Sounds typical of him. How long have you had the Edda?"
"Lachlan pushed it through my door with a note right before the zombies invaded the island."
"When he realized he was dying," Sam breathes out, and she nods.
"Aye. The note said to keep the Edda away from the skincoats." She gasps at the sound of a gunshot, cracking through the air so loudly it's almost painful.
I whip my gaze around, my grip on my pistol tightening. My knuckles are white as I search. I see nothing.
A bullet flies past me, just barely missing my side. The bullet would have gone through my heart if I'd been only a step to the right.
"Sam, do you have a visual?" Tom asks tensely.
"Ugh, no, can't see them. Keep your heads down and run as fast as you can."
Despite his words, I keep my gaze upwards, constantly looking for a flash of gray, even if it's just for a second. Because that's at least something. I may be able to fire.
My thinking is irrational, I realize as another bullet whizzes by. This time it nearly wings Morag. She gives a terrified little squeak, chestnut-colored eyes going wide with terror.
They know this island better than I do. Better than I ever will. I'll never be able to find and shoot them from where they are. If they get close enough that I can shoot, they'll be close enough to hit us lethally.
Although, this skincoat seems to have a less than impressive aim. I wouldn't think they'd want to miss us, but no bullets have hit, not even to give us flesh wounds.
After ascertaining this, I place my pistol back into its holster on my hip, my thoughts grating as we run along the cliff path. The rocks are sharp, jagged, and uneven, and the path itself is just wide enough for us to run at a steady pace. Looking down at my feet, I can see the beach below and the ocean that crashes against the cliffside.
My heartbeat quickens in my chest.
It beats even faster when the path, wet from mist that sprays up from the ocean waves crashing into the cliffs, becomes slippery the farther we go down. Each step is pure agony, my mind screaming to stop looking down, but I cannot tear my gaze away.
My lungs burn, and there's salt on my tongue, in my eyes. I'm not yet fearful enough to the point of tears, but I know my already pale skin has lost all its color.
Looking down, I spot bits below where sand and rock collect, creating mini shorelines. I think falling onto those little spots would be just as bad as falling into the ocean below. I can only imagine the damage it would cause.
"I see the shooter!" Sam shouts, and my eyes widen. "On your tail, chasing you down the cliff path!"
I start to turn, grabbing my pistol again and gripping it tightly with both hands, trying to see if I can find them.
"Eyes ahead!" Tom barks, and I flinch at his harshness. To my dismay, I see that he's right in his order. I'm at the front, and with Tom and Morag both being taller than me—Morag by a little, Tom by a lot—I have no way of being able to aim at the skincoat and having a chance at landing a hit.
Not to mention my eyes must stay on my feet to avoid tripping over a rock that could send me spiraling down the cliffside.
"The path's slipperier than a greased muffin tray!" Morag screeches. "If we slip, we'll fall right into the sea."
I roll my eyes. Thanks, Captain Obvious.
"That could be advantageous," Tom replies. "It's too risky for them to shoot at us because if our bodies fall into the sea, the Edda will be destroyed. We must keep moving!"
Morag shouts, and I feel a sudden tug downward on my shoulder that nearly causes my knees to buckle. I stumble, one hand letting go of my gun as the other flies out to create balance. Morag's rushed apology comes a second later, a second before her hand leaves my shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I almost fell." Her voice trembles. "My feet aren't as nimble as they were in my youth. After the argument, I chased Lachlan over slick rocks in the cave network under the island. I wanted to stop him from doing anything stupid, but when I caught up with him, he wasn't alone."
My eyes widen just before the ground disappears. For a long, agonizing moment, I don't know whether I'm falling into Morag's memory or off the cliff path. I gasp, waiting for my feet to either hit solid ground, accompanied by dizziness, or feel the cold, painful ocean that will drag me under.
I praise God that it's the former.
My feet hit the ground running, the cave floors slick and wet just as Morag described them. I don't know how long it's been after the argument, but that doesn't matter. I just need to get through this memory.
"Lachlan!" I shout, and Morag's voice echoes through the caves as I reach the tall man. It's the second time I'm seeing this past version of him, but this tall, skinny man is so different from the mountain of one the real me meets fourteen years later. "Oh, thank God you're okay! I thought-"
My words come to a screeching halt when I see someone lying face down on the ground. I think, through the cave's darkness only illuminated by my and Jones' flashlights, there is something wet in the chocolate brown hair.
Blood.
"Who is that?" I ask, heart thrumming in my chest. I already know the answer.
"It's the laird," Jones replies, his voice sounding distant, dazed. "He's dead."
"Oh my God. What happened?"
He gestures to the hair clumped with blood. "Hit on the back of the head."
My eyes widen. "Did you-"
"No!" He shouts, the question seeming to knock him from his stupor. "I bloody didnae." His eyes are glassy. "Not for all the difference it makes. This is it, isn't it? This is how I go down. Crazy Lachlan Jones finally cracked and killed the laird. That's what you think."
His voice sounds so raw, so pained. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him.
Almost.
"No!" I shout anyway. "Lachlan, please calm down. We've got to tell the others what happened."
"They'll never believe me." Suddenly he tenses, looking around. "They're coming. I've got to get out of these caverns."
Then he turns and bolts, his footsteps echoing against the cave walls.
"Lachlan!" I shout but then grit my teeth. "Lachlan, wait! I'm coming with you!"
•
"Lachlan, stop for just a moment, please!" I beg, my skirt bunched up in my hands and my bun sagging. "You need to tell me everything that happened. Maybe there's something you saw that'll prove you didn't kill Callum."
Jones stops and whirls around, his eyes wide, afraid. "There is. I saw them. They leaped on Callum and brained him with a rock. Moved quicker than a blink!"
I look at him quizzically while trying to catch my breath. "What? Who?"
"A skincoat!"
While I understand it and believe him, Morag doesn't, which is why the words that leave my mouth are, "What? Don't be daft. They've not been around for centuries."
"No, listen. It makes sense. The legend said they'd protect the ancient ways of the island. Callum wanted to move the King of the Rocks from Mor, but now he's dead. Guess who's going to inherit the lairdship? Robert Reid and his wind farms. The ceremony's safe! And so are the puffins." He lets out a bitter laugh. "I can't say I'm sorry the bastard's dead."
I glare at him. "Don't ever say that again. Now you need to tell everyone exactly what you saw."
"Why? Even you don't believe me."
"No, but when I found you, you were just standing there looking at poor Callum. If you'd been the one to... you'd have run off, not stuck around. And you've no blood on you. There would have at least been some spattered on your clothes or skin if you'd done it." I shine my flashlight over him. He's clean. "I'll tell them that."
He shakes his head. "No, you won't."
"I promise I will. I don't know for sure that you're innocent, but you deserve a fair trial, and if that means I have to testify-"
"No, I mean I won't let you."
I gape at him. "What?"
"They're going to blame me. If it's skincoats, they act as one. If you get in the way of that, they'll turn on you. They'll say there was something between us."
"Lachlan!" I shout, face twisting. I can hear the offense in Morag's voice. "I changed your nappies!"
"Morag, there's another way out of the caves over there." He points ahead, his gaze serious. "Go before they see you with me."
"Lachlan..."
"I said get away!"
I see something in the distance, a glimpse of gray moving upon gray rock. I feel Morag's fear as her heart plummets in her stomach. My voice comes out in a terrified whisper.
"The skincoats have risen again."
"Run," He urges. "Run before they see you with me. Go!"
I listen, turning on my heel and running as fast as I can. I hear Jones shouting as I get farther and farther away.
"Come and get me, you bastards!"
I'm falling again, the slippery floor of the caves becoming the slippery path of the cliffs. I have to place my hand on the side of the cliff for balance. The world is spinning, and I taste blood in my mouth.
"They never found out I saw him with the body," Morag says. "That's why they've not come for me until now. I've wondered ever since if he wanted to know there was one person on the island who was not a skincoat, that he wanted me here keeping watch, an ally for him in need."
"Does it..." Sam hesitates. "Does it make you feel any better that he wasn't found guilty?"
"A little. There was no proof, but people found a way to punish him all the same. Froze him out until he had no choice but to leave. That's why I took the job on Niomh, but I had to come back only six years later when the apocalypse started. I never knew who was beneath those skincoats. They'd done such a terrible thing to Callum and to Lachlan. So I started to suspect everyone. It drove me half crazy."
"Yeah," He sighs. "The skincoats are still behind you. Try to pick up the pace if you can."
Another wave of dizziness hits me, and I do the opposite of picking up the pace. My hand leaves the cliffside, but my feet still stumble with my steps. I become painfully aware of how easy it would be to tumble over the edge. I curse how this story, and more importantly, me seeing Morag's memories, had to happen now.
Minutes pass, but I'm still not going fast enough. Even though my fingers are digging so hard into my palms I think I may draw blood, it's not enough to push away the reeling sensation that consumes my mind.
Then I feel warmth on my cupid's bow, my lip.
Shit.
"I think you guys need to get ahead of me. I'm slowing you down," I say, pushing myself against the cliff wall so Morag can run past me. Thankfully she doesn't argue, but Tom sees the trail of blood coming from my nose, and his blue eyes go big.
He grabs my shoulders and shoves me forward, fingers gripping so tightly I know there will be bruises. He doesn't have to say it. Doesn't even have to hint at it. He knows. Of course, he knows. Maybe not everything, but he knows this is vision-related or memory-related. I'll have to tell him later once we're safe. Neither he nor Sam will take no for an answer regarding this.
Morag's breathing is heavy, and her voice fearful. "The skincoats are gaining on us."
"Yeah." Sam sucks in a sharp, nervous breath. "I spot four of them now instead of three. Amelia's marines are almost at the beach. They'll defend you. You just have to reach them first."
The older woman nearly lets out a sob of relief when she sees the stone-carved stairs down to the beach. "We're almost there."
Rock shifts under my feet. "Watch your step. The ground's unstable."
Rock shifts more. It's violent this time, and I inhale so fast it hurts, salty air stinging down my throat.
"What was that?" Morag asks.
"The cliff path!" Sam shouts. "It's-it's collapsing behind you!"
Tom looks over his shoulder, his fingers digging even harder into my skin. "All these people on it must have triggered a rockslide."
"You're so close to the stairs. Just keep running!" Sam urges. "The rockslide has split up the skincoats chasing you. Three got cut off, but one's still on your tail."
"The path is giving away beneath our feet. We're not going to make it to the stairs!" Morag cries, and I grit my teeth, pushing my legs to move so Tom can let go of me.
"Don't say that. Just run!"
I can feel the rock giving away, the feeling of being nearly weightless sending fear shooting from my stomach up to my chest. It feels like a knife slicing through me—painful, sharp, and quick. Gravity grabs at my ankles like invisible hands, but I keep moving.
I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, the sound roaring like a drum as I gasp for air. My lungs are screaming, my legs aching. I can see the stairs. They're so close yet so far away.
Come on. Come on. Keep moving.
The rock cracks and breaks, some falling into the sea, causing water to fly up and spray the side of my face. The saltwater stings, the droplets running down my skin like a clawed hand, waiting to take us down.
Soon the rock falling slams into the beach, where sand absorbs the shock with a dull thud. The sound, as muted as it is, is enough to remind me of the sudden, painful stop that will meet us if we fall.
Keep running. Keep running.
More blood drips from my nose, and I sputter when the crimson seeps past my parted lips, burning like acid on my tongue. It's strong and coppery, mixing with the salt in the air in a way that makes my stomach curl. I resist the urge to retch where I am, forcing my feet to keep moving.
The stairs are closer now, closer still. Only about ten feet away.
The way ahead crumbles before we can reach it, leaving a wide gap.
Dread stabs through me, causing a pained little croak to leave my mouth. "There's threads of-of red fungus among the stones!"
"The fungus is growing up the rock," Tom pants. "It's not possible. Is it helping them? Morag, you have to jump. Jump! We'll follow you!"
Morag doesn't hesitate, jumping and her feet touching the steps. She immediately takes a step back and holds out her hand to me. "Jump, Five! I've got you!"
My legs burn as I jump, nearly slamming into Morag's body. My ankle rolls, and I just register the pain before I turn, urging Morag to continue while I hold my hand out at Tom. The stair I'm on is already starting to crumble.
My eyes widen as a scream nearly lodges itself in my throat. Why is Tom so far away? I swear he was only a step behind me!
"Tom, hurry! Jump!" I shout.
I see it register on his face, and I start shaking my head.
"No, no! Don't you dare let yourself fall!" I scream, and Morag pulls me away as the stair I'm on collapses.
"It's too late," He tells me, still running, but knowing he can't make the jump. He's running out of path, and what little is behind him is crumbling. "Get to the bottom. Dig me and the Edda out of the rocks if you have to. Go!"
"Tom, no!" I scream, stretching as far as I can to hold my hand out to him, my fear of falling long forgotten. Morag's got a tight grip on my arm, trying to pull me away. "Tom!"
The path crumbles beneath his feet.
Tom falls.
I scream.
•
"Tom!"
My voice feels raw as I run towards his form, half-buried under the rubble of the rockslide.
He hasn't answered my calls to him on my headset. It feels like it took us an eternity to get to the bottom of this stupid cliff. I nearly fell down the cliff stairs in my haste, something Sam screamed at me before getting some kind of message that I couldn't care about.
As I look at Tom, flashes of other people appear before my eyes. I see Ellie drenched in the rain, blood covering her front as she lays on the ground. I see Nicole lying in my arms, bleeding from a horrible gash that goes from the middle of her forehead to the top of her left ear.
Oh, please. Oh, please don't be dead.
"Tom!" I scream and nearly sob with relief when I hear a pained groan in reply. His fingers twitch as he tries to push himself up, only to look over his shoulder and see the rocks have pinned down his legs.
"Tom, can you hear me?" Sam asks worriedly. "Are you alright?"
"I can hear you," He mumbles, and when I reach him, I immediately push the rocks off him. "I'm alright. Nothing's broken."
I drop to my knees, trembling hard as I look him over, trying to assess any damage. There are rips in his clothes but none on his skin. He has multiple forming bruises, and when I reach up to touch his head, I find a bump that has him hissing in pain. I can guess that was why he didn't respond to coms. He must have been knocked unconscious.
"Don't ever do that again!" I shout at him, and he blinks at me, having the audacity to frown as if I've said something wrong. "Jody will kill me if anything happens to you, especially since you're sick."
While I was upset that he had the nerve to frown at me, I become furious when he has the gall to smile. "Consider this payback from when you tried to let yourself fall from that rotting beam while we were on Niomh."
"You ended up falling down with me that time!"
"I guess you'll have to jump after me next time."
I stare at him in shock, eyes still burning with tears. "Is this how you feel every time I get hurt now that I'm mortal?"
He doesn't give me a verbal answer, but the subtle, knowing quirk of his lips has me laughing while tears fall down my face.
"No wonder you guys get so angry. This sucks."
"You think?" Sam and Tom both ask. Tom's sarcasm is laced with pain, and I quickly stand and offer him my hand, wiping away my tears.
"Can you stand?"
He nods, taking my hand and wincing. I pray to God this injury won't be made worse by the nanites, or worse, the nanites won't use this injury to their advantage in destroying his body.
"Where's the Edda?" Morag asks, and I blink, having forgotten all about the priceless book the moment Tom fell.
He reaches into his bag, and the look of terror that crosses the taller man's face makes me want to vomit. "It's gone."
"Oh no," Sam whispers painfully.
"One of the skincoats must have taken it while you were unconscious," I say, then pause. "But... if they got that close..."
I don't finish the rest of that sentence because now isn't the time. But I do finish it in my head.
If a skincoat got that close to Tom, why didn't they just kill him?
Tom was utterly defenseless. The skincoats have tried to kill me, Jody, Nicole, and Rory; Janine is marked for death in the caves. Why didn't they kill Tom?
Maybe they thought he was already dead?
I want to believe that, but an even more sinister explanation crosses my mind.
Maybe they're waiting. Just like there haven't been any assassination attempts for Janine even though we know the skincoats want her dead, maybe Tom wasn't killed because they'd got it planned out for him.
I taste more blood in my mouth. I can't tell if it's from the horrific thought I just had or from more blood from my nose bleed slipping past my chapped lips to spread along my tongue.
"Can you see where they went?" Sam asks, but looking around, there is nothing but us, the rocks, and the waves.
"We've lost them," Tom sighs defeatedly. "The Edda's gone."
"Runner Five, do I have to do everything myself?"
We turn to see a familiar blonde heading our way, her hands on her hips. She takes in my face covered in blood and tears, and she sneers.
"Amelia?" Tom asks, and she taps her foot impatiently.
"I have been waiting on this freezing beach for you to bring me the Edda, and you're what? Sparring? Tom, Five, I understand you two get off on beating the hell out of each other for some reason, but you realize that you can't look at each other's pretty faces if you destroy them. Just give me the Edda so we can go home."
"We don't have it," Morag says, and her blue eyes widen.
"What? Tom, give me your headset." She snatches it from him, and I turn my volume up so he can hear without it. "Look, Sam, I've had reports from the mainland. The red fungus has stopped advancing. No idea why, and that's distressing. As Prime Minister, I will not allow more seed pods to touch the mainland. So, if I don't get the Edda now, I'm declaring the whole archipelago a lost cause, and I will bomb it to keep the fungus contained."
"If you want to contain the fungus, Amelia, you'll have to nuke yourself as well," Sam spits, to my surprise and confusion. "Listen, I've got Paula on the other line. She was just telling me... what they found. Paula, I'm going to patch you through. You'll explain it better."
Amelia frowns. "What? Paula, what are you talking about?"
"Hello, Amelia," Paula greets flatly. "I've been in touch with Dearg. I asked to see their blood samples since they're all infected with red fungus. I also have samples of Callista's blood since she and her clone, Catherine, seem to have a man-made version of the fungus in their blood, and it's slowing Catherine's infection compared to everyone else on Dearg. I compared all of their blood to mine as a control. That's when I saw it."
"Saw what? For God's sake, do you expect me to play twenty questions with you?"
"Red fungus. Trace amounts in my blood, and Callista's, like theirs."
We all go still before Amelia swallows and speaks. "It must be a mistake, your old infection throwing off the test. And Callista-"
"I know. I thought so too. So, I tested Rory, a local, and Jody and Tom. I tested everyone. We're all carrying. It's in the water here. Janine and Callista are the least infected, then Tom. We know with Catherine that whatever replica in her and Callista's blood slows progression. Maybe the fungus doesn't like the nanites for Janine and Tom. I think Tom has more red fungus because he wasn't infected with nanites until after weeks of being here, and he received a smaller dosage than Janine did.
"But for the rest of us, I think this version of the fungus has a slow incubation period. Until it reaches a certain amount, the body's immune system suppresses it. That's why the version we're used to developed a strong symbiosis with the regular zombie virus. Dead hosts are easier. But as we know, the more red fungus there is, the stronger and smarter it gets. So the more of us that are infected, the faster it spreads in our system. Dearg had years, and the people on Mor have probably been infected for a few months now, and us... Now all of us are right on the edge of turning V-Type."
I think I'm going to vomit.
Amelia looks terrified. "What exactly are you saying?"
"Everyone who's ever eaten or drunk on Mor is infected. All of us, including you, Amelia. And your troops. If any of us return to the mainland, we carry the infection with us. The Edda's still our best bet at finding a way to fight the fungus. For finding a cure. So, you're going to have to work with us to recover it, Prime Minister. Because if we can't get the Edda back from the skincoats, then we're all going down together."
A/N: The plot thickens!!! I'm guessing you weren't expecting that, huh? I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment! Have a blessed day!