"Tom, Jody, Five, I've got you on cams. How did everyone sleep?"
Jody sighs, the dark circles under her eyes giving me her answer before her words do. "Really rough."
"The dreams again," Tom sighs. It's not a question.
"Yeah. This time, I was underwater. The waves were red, and I was walking along the bottom of the ocean." Her face gets a greenish tint as if she might get sick just talking about it. "My hands were rotting."
"And you know that your face had rotted away, and when you tried to scream, your jaw fell off." Sam shuddered. "Yeah, I was there too, last night."
"I was underground, buried alive." Tom looks at me. "You were with me, Five. Two of you."
I nod, my face scrunching up. "Yeah. It was me and Catherine."
"She kept screaming at you in French as you were trying to dig me out."
I nod. "I don't know why she was doing that. Panic maybe? She knows I don't know French."
That makes his eyes widen. "You... don't know what she was saying?"
I blink. I forget that Tom and Janine are multi-lingual, sometimes. "Do you?"
He hesitates. "She was screaming for you to get me out. Said letting me die was what would bring down your own death. I thought that was why you kept digging at the rocks even when your fingers broke off."
I look down at my hands. "I didn't feel it. Couldn't see the blood either. Everything was red."
Catherine doesn't get future visions. So why would she say that?
I swallow and push that thought away as another comes. "That was the first-the first dream I've had like that. Is it always red?"
Tom's face is grim. "Yes. Everything's always red."
"And, just to be clear, it feels like everyone on Mor is with us in the dreams, right?" Sam asks. "Like we know all these people because we see them every night in the red world."
"Yeah," Jody sighs, and Tom gives the same answer. It leaves my head sinking into my stomach.
"Great. Well, either the fungus has reached some particular level in our blood to make this happen, or... or we're all imagining it because we know there's fungus in our blood. Even Amelia's had them, apparently. Good to know we're all in this horror together."
"Is this how your dreams have always been, Five?" Jody asks, as if the horrible thought has struck her. "You were made with an off-brand version of the fungus in your blood for the... what did you call it? The hivemind?"
I shrug. "The dreams started when I was fifteen. When the hivemind was supposed to be triggered and then went wrong because not all of us in the project were alive. I have had dreams of my... others' pasts, sometimes even future events. Sometimes I see my own future events. I can't work out how that's the fungus, though. Maybe a gift from God because of the troubling way I was made?" My voice wavers as I say that. "But yeah. I've had dreams of them. When people... talk about their past, sometimes my mind latches onto them, and I see it through their eyes as if we're connected. I feel what they feel... I've seen through the eyes of saints and monsters."
I pause, wondering if I've said too much. It's odd, something I've worked so hard to keep a secret for so long now just out in the open. Still, I don't want to make her feel bad for me, not like this.
"It's not always... horrifying like these dreams. I've never... I saw myself get bitten long before it happened, felt myself dying. But even it wasn't like this." I feel an overwhelming need to change the subject. "Sam, we're on the right track to the laird's house, right?"
"Hm? Oh! Y-yeah. Yeah. You are. Finding out what he's up to is our best chance of stopping this endless nightmare. He's just told Janine he's away this afternoon, so if you hurry, you'll be able to search his house. Go!"
We pick up the pace, my legs feeling stiff even though we've been running for about ten minutes now. After days of going over our notes, we crossed out a few people we knew were sure couldn't be a skincoat, although it left quite a few people still on that list. I hate seeing all the names of people who helped us over the past several weeks we've been here, knowing that their kindness could all be a lie, a hoax to win us over only to stab us in the back.
How many people have done that to us? Lured us into a false sense of security only to turn around and nearly destroy us later on? How many wolves in sheep's clothing have we faced?
We've won each time, no matter how hard the betrayal stung. There were losses. Battles were sometimes lost or forfeited because we knew at the time if we kept going, we couldn't win. Strategy, tactics, codes, and meticulously thought out plans all went into this. They still sometimes resulted in a loss, but we always won the war.
Van Ark, Moonchild, Sigrid, Ian, The Last Riders—all died and fell. We stopped them all. It may have cost us greatly, but we still managed to make it out in the end.
I desperately cling to the hope that we can do it again.
"Look. They're lighting bonfires all over the island," Jody says, eyeing the fire burning along the cliffside. "I always liked that bit in Lord of the Rings."
"In Lord of the Rings, the bonfires summoned help, not death," Tom reminds her. I notice he winces when he rolls his right shoulder, and I debate asking if he's alright.
It's been four days since he got hurt in that rockslide. No serious injuries, according to Paula, but the nanites took advantage of even non-life-threatening injuries and made him bedbound until now. I know she cleared him to go out since he's still doing better than Janine and is having a good day—something she used to have but no longer does.
But still, he's weaker than usual, not as fast. I think I could beat him at sparring in this state without having my ass handed to me the first five rounds.
That scares me.
"Morag said they're part of the naming festival," Sam explains, bringing my thoughts back to the present. "It's like a prolog to King of the Rocks. A week before it, the islanders light fires, then gather at the hills near Crater Beach to choose who's going to be the next king at the full ceremony. Morag's making her spiced ginger ale as normal. She doesn't want to stand out."
Jody rolls her eyes, almost in annoyance. "Obviously they're still doing the festival even though... even though we're all going to die horribly."
Sam hums in reply. "I don't think some of them really know what they're doing anymore."
Tom nods in agreement. "I saw Mr. Burton, the cheesemaker, chopping his furniture up for the bonfire. I tried to ask him what he was doing. He just said it was wanted by the skincoats."
"Everyone's doing what they think they must to survive," I reply.
"That's what people do. Do you have any idea what Amelia's planning?"
"Um, no," Sam answers. "Well, she wouldn't tell me, obviously. I'd just tell everyone. I know the island's quarantined, but that's just sensible, right?"
"If you were Amelia, what would you do? No sense in going back to the mainland. We'd only infect everyone there. Even Amelia doesn't want to be a zombie prime minister. But we know there's silver mud here that inhibits the V-Type fungus. That little bit that Paula was looking into, she had Nicole ingest it to see what happens. Since the nanites in Jane and me were already causing damage, she was afraid the silver mud would make things worse for us, so Nicole volunteered herself. Said it made her feel awful, but her blood work showed that the little bit she ingested actually killed off some of the fungus.
"With that in mind, and with how rare the silver mud is and how much we would probably need to kill off the fungus in our bodies... If I were Amelia, I would be preparing to blow the island to pieces to get as much of it as possible."
Jody's jaw drops. "With us on it? With every one on it?"
Tom's face is grim as he nods. "Only as a last resort. She doesn't waste resources needlessly. But this is a last resort situation."
"Right. Good. Great." Sam laughs sarcastically. "That's super!"
"But she'd stop if she got the Edda back, wouldn't she?" I ask. "We know it has the answers to stop the red fungus rising."
"That's what I'm hoping," Tom nods. "If we just get it back, this madness could be over. And the laird... we all talked about it. He's a good candidate for the leader of the skincoats. Jones accused the laird of luring him here and killing the decoy the first night on the beach; the laird had access to the cave of death-marked faces; he inherited his title from a brother the skincoats murdered; he killed Jones. We have to take this opportunity to search his manor."
I can see it up ahead. That big stone house with turrets and a stone wall has never looked so daunting, so bone-chilling.
"We'll enter through the gardens," Jody says. "We've only got until the festival ends to search it. Let's pick up the pace."
It takes us about ten minutes to reach the rock wall and another five to scramble up and over it. Ivy clings to my hands when I drop down. I wipe myself off and help Jody get a couple leaves out of her hair and off her bowstring that, along with a bag of arrows, are strapped to her back. It's been a few weeks since she's brought it to help, but such a weapon blends in more with the festival, if we happen to have to go there any time.
I doubt we will. Searching the house will take a while, given its size. The time is going by fast, the afternoon all but gone as the pre-festival gets into full swing.
We start towards the house. I can hear the stream—the same stream Janine drank from, thinking this water was safe after working so hard to get her away from the infection on Dearg.
"Okay, so you're approaching the manor from the south," Sam says. "The kitchen should be your best way in. You-"
"Five, do you smell that?" Tom asks, going stock still. Alarm rises in my chest, and I sniff the air.
I go entirely white.
"Oh, no," Jody says in horror. "Sam, there's a powerful smell of celery."
"The fungal accelerator." Tom whips his gaze towards the direction of the greenhouse filled with ferns. The smell gets stronger the closer we get. The tall man picks up a rock and throws it at the glass door, shattering it.
So much for being inconspicuous.
He heads inside, and we follow, feet crunching under broken glass. After a few minutes of searching, Jody gasps when she spots a planting tray with silver powder sprinkled on it, along with a few traces of red.
"Someone's been growing it here," She says.
"Could be the laird, right?" Sam asks.
"Highly probable," Tom replies. "But the fungus isn't here. He's taken it somewhere." He goes still again, and my worry only increases. "Sam, didn't you say there's going to be a big toast tonight? If someone's looking to use that fungus, then-"
"They could poison Morag!" Jody finishes, green eyes wide. "Or anyone, really. But the skincoats know she's their enemy. We can't take chances."
Memories of the Last Riders at the rave Janine, Peter, and I went to flash before my eyes. Memories of what happened to the Exmoore Militia follow.
No, no, we can't let that happen again.
"Five, Tom, to the beach," Jody demands. "Run!"
•
The sun's setting.
Please, I pray as we approach the beach. Please, God, let us make it on time.
"You're almost at Crater Beach. The party's underway," Sam says, and as we get closer, I'm relieved to see no red nor hear any screaming. People are there with streamers and ice cream, blissfully unaware. I bristle at the giant wicker statue on the beach that looks like a person with stag horns. Sam sounds just as disturbed. "This is all really going a bit Edwards Woodward, isn't it?"
Suddenly chocolate brown hair and eyes come into view, and I have to skid to a stop to avoid plowing right into Shona. She's not in anything I've ever seen her wear before—a white dress accented with green and red, her hair done up in an intricate bun with ribbons.
"Callista," She greets, smiling. "Always popping up where you're nae expected."
"Shona, are you okay?" Jody asks worriedly, which makes her smile falter a bit. "There haven't been skincoats, have there?"
She shakes her head. "No, but this party's just a bit of fun. Most people don't know it was only invested for tourists in the 60s. Except the seasonal bonfires. They go back a bit." She sighs. "I didn't want to come, but dad insisted everyone should do it as usual."
Up on one of the hills stands the laird. He's standing in a circle of islanders around an open barrel. I quickly tell the others, and Shona's confused look only grows at hearing the panic in my voice.
"Aye. They're about to toast the first drink of the night. After the toast, we can get all stuck into Morag's ale." Her eyes shine with excitement, not noticing the absolute terror in ours.
I almost scream when I see them raise their cups.
"We have to stop them!" I shout. Tom, Jody, and I dart up the hill before the words finish leaving my mouth.
Shona runs screaming after us.
"What are you doing?" She cries. "Why do you want them to stop?! You can't just-"
I start tuning her out after that. There's no time to explain to her what's about to happen. We don't have time.
I hear those in the circle give a cheer just as we reach the top of the hill.
"Stop!" The three of us scream, getting some of them to pause. One woman doesn't, ignoring us or maybe not thinking we're talking to her. I race forward, slapping the paper cup out of her hands before she can get it to her mouth.
"Put your drinks down!" Jody shouts. "We think the ale's been spiked!"
Laird Reid's eyebrows have shot up to his hairline, his drink halfway raised to his lips before stopping and dropping it. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Dad, they just suddenly shot up here," Shona huffs, her skirts clutched in her hands as she reaches the top of the hill. "I couldnae have stopped them."
Tom ignores her and sends the laird a dour look. "We've been in your greenhouse. We know what you've been growing in there."
His face scrunched up in evident confusion. "What does this have to do with my home composting?" Something else flashes across his eyes. "Wait. What were you doing at my house?!"
Suddenly a man with a thick beard and a large, pink scar that goes up his left arm doubles over, coughing and groaning as if in pain.
Jody grabs my hand and pulls me away from him. "I think he drank before we got here."
Shona laughs and shakes her head. "That's Mad Al Cahoon for you. Always eager for a triple. Bowel trouble again, Al?"
"I don't think that's bowel trouble," Tom says, taking a cautious step back.
Al looks up, and I choke at those fear-filled eyes. Fungus is spilling out of his mouth and his nose. There's a rip of flesh, and Al screams as more fungus bursts from his back in huge lumps. It grows from his ears and eyes, his screams drowned out as the fungus overtakes him while he's still alive. Within seconds his head becomes a mass of red.
I feel my heart being squeezed in sympathy. It must be excruciating.
"He's ingested fungus and accelerant, clearly in quantity," Tom says, stepping back again.
Jody's hand flies up to her mouth. "That poor, poor man."
He falls over, writhing around, fungus still growing from him. People have begun to scream, all of them dropping their drinks. The laird just stares, seemingly stuck to his spot in horror. I almost want to ask him why he looks so surprised, but Shona grabs his arm and desperately pulls at him. She looks terrified.
"Could be V-Type any second," Jody says before turning to Shona. "Evacuate the festival. Get everyone to town."
That seems to snap the laird out of his stupor, and he and Shona both dart off, giving out orders to those screaming in terror. Jody turns back to us.
"Five, Tom, I've got a plan. Over to that bonfire before he finishes turning. Run!"
There's not enough time to ask what she's planning. Tom and I both know that, which is why we break off into a sprint. Jody is smart, calculated. She has her panicky moments, but I remember how well she ran Abel during Janine's absence when Sigrid was still alive.
Such events feel like they took place a lifetime ago, but we know they didn't. Janine was MIA when we mailed Alice's diary to Frances about a year ago. Sigrid was alive a year ago.
So much always happens in such a short time that time itself becomes blurry.
Orange and red dance in front of my eyes, the smell of smoke and spice from the spilt ale hitting my nose. People are still screaming, terrified. My heart hurts for them. So many of these people are innocent, just wanting to enjoy a festival created as a pre-celebration to King of the Rocks. It's something they enjoy, something they care about. After barely surviving a massive zombie attack not even a month ago, and all this with Amelia threatening to blow everyone up and the skincoats coming back, I'm sure they were all looking forward to something that might bring them a smidge of happiness in such trying times.
I wonder if some of the voices carrying out shrieks of terror are faking it, pretending. No doubt the skincoats must be here. They wouldn't have just spiked the ale and left it that. They would have wanted to see this through.
I mean, we know the laird is here, and seeing what we found in his greenhouse, he's the prime subject.
But he was about to drink the ale before we stopped him. Why would he do that if he knew it was spiked?
Maybe he was faking, acting like he was going to drink it but stopping just short.
I can hear Al's muffled screams that are turning into growls. The fungus is taking its time turning him, unlike with Jasper. Maybe it was because Jasper was splashed with the accelerant instead of having ingested it. Although I would think consuming it would make it faster, not slower.
I know the regular zombie virus was different with each person. That could be the case here. I suppose I should be grateful either way. It just means we have a few more minutes before things worsen.
Those few minutes, unfortunately, are used up all too soon. Just as we reach the bonfire, Sam speaks.
"Guys, Shona's evacuating everyone towards town, but that fungus zombie thing is on its feet. It's hunched over, sprouting mounds of fungus. And it's chasing people."
Al lets out a pained cry/snarl, muffled by the fungus that engulfs its head. Tom closes his eyes and shakes his head. "That sound the V-Types make always makes my skin crawl. It's like I remember it from long ago."
"Five, do me a favor," Jody hands a couple of arrows to me and grabs her bow. "Light a couple of these arrows."
"Are you sure?" Tom asks. "Smoke from burning V-Types can be infectious."
"We know this island strain is less aggressive, and it hasn't finished turning yet. We just need to get it away from the islanders." She pauses, looking conflicted as I place the arrow's tip into the flames. "Tom, there's something I need to tell you about Janine."
"You've been meeting with her in secret to discuss taking over Abel if she goes before we can find a cure for her and me."
Her eyes widen. "How did you-"
"Here," I interrupt, passing her a burning arrow.
"Oh, thanks. Better sort out the life or death stuff first." She forces an awkward chuckle and pulls the arrow back, eyes focused as she aims. "Here goes nothing."
She releases the arrow. It whisks through the air, landing directly onto the not-quite-V-Type. The flames spread, burning red fungus and what bit of flesh and clothing is shown. Still, the creature doesn't fall.
"Sound thinking," Tom praises. "If there are enough V-Types to make them intelligent, we know they prioritize threats. And this island is riddled with red fungus."
It turns towards us, making an ugly sound that feels like a punch to the stomach. Still on fire, it starts coming for us instead of Shona and Laird Reid, who'd been trying to herd some of the frightened teenagers away and get them to calm down enough to know where to run.
"Now we have to kill it before it kills us." Jody jerks her head towards the beach, and the sound of that thing behind us has us sprinting down towards the sand and waves. Her finger points towards the enormous wicker stature. "We need to get to that quickly!"
"It's hideous," I pant, looking at the massive human body with a stag's head. It's got to be forty feet tall, counting the horns.
"I remember Morag mentioning it," Sam says. "She said the islanders made a statue to burn at the festival a few years ago, but it took so much work, they decided not to burn it so they could wheel it out every year instead."
I make a face. It's still hideous and creepy. Even though I think such things, I don't say them aloud. Instead, I just look at Jody expectantly. "What's the plan, Four?"
She nods. "If we push the stag over onto the flaming V-Type, it'll get tangled in the wicker. The stature will burn with it stuck inside, and its spores won't be able to travel." She falters. "I hope."
I nod, taking a sharp, quick breath, smelling salt on the wind. "I'll lead it to where it needs to be. I've got the most experience outpacing V-Types." I send Tom a look. "And before you say anything about how it was when I was immortal, I'll tell you it doesn't matter because I didn't get bitten either way. When it gets under the ribcage, you and Jodes push it over. Now, go! Go!"
•
"Hey! This way, you stupid red blob!" I shout. "Come on, follow the imposter! Follow the imitator!"
It's as if the red fungus recognizes those words, realizes I'm the one saying them. The sound that comes from it makes my stomach drop, white terror flooding my veins for a quick second as I push my legs to run faster.
"Five, Tom and Jody are ready, each by a leg of the statue," Sam says, and I sigh in relief.
"Praise God! Because I think I really ticked this thing off."
I didn't think those words would do anything. I thought those words were those of the skincoats, possibly their leader. Why would a somewhat-V-Type have such a reaction?
"We've pulled away the wooden supports holding the statue up. One good shove should topple it," Tom says just as I run under the statue. The zom is right behind me.
"Now! Now!" I scream, and I hear the shift as the statue starts to collapse. I dive out of the way, sand flying from me hitting the ground and even more from the statue slamming down on top of the burning zombie. The wicker lights up almost instantly, flames engulfing it as I scramble away, holding my hand over my nose and mouth. I know Jody said it should keep the spores from releasing, but I don't want to take any chances even if I already am infected.
I keep pushing myself back until I'm sure I can breathe properly. My eyes stay trained on the zom as it tries to thrash loose, unable to do so. It's burned to nothing within a minute, and I sigh in thanks before finally standing.
"Perfect instincts, sweetheart," Tom says, smiling at Jody fondly. "That's why Janine chose you as her successor."
Jody's face crumples, her expression pained. "You guessed, right? You didn't know we'd been talking about it. You just guessed."
He raises his shoulder in a half shrug. "Paula thinks Janine has about ten days left. The serum from Dearg gave her more time, but that time's almost up. It's logical thinking. She'd want to brief you to take over and how to keep looking for a cure for me. She'd ask you not to tell anyone, especially me, for morale. It's the right decision."
Jody's eyes fill with tears. "I don't want it—to replace Janine. I've never wanted that!" Her voice goes soft, teary. "I just want to make her proud."
Tom cups her cheek, his smile soft even though there's a deep affliction in his eyes. "She's proud of you. I'm proud of you."
She smiles weakly. "You always know how to make me feel better, like I can get through anything."
"That's how I felt about my life for a long time, darling. If you're with me, I'll be alright."
"Guys, I hate to interrupt this beautiful moment, but the islanders have called an emergency townhall," Sam says, and I scowl at him. With the number of times people have had to endure our flirting, he could have at least given them another minute. "They've declared the laird will be the next King of the Rocks."
Tom squares his shoulders. "He'll be on his guard now. We won't get another chance to search his manor for the Edda."
Jody shakes her head. "But the drinks he gave out turned that poor man into a monster. He must be a skincoat, right?"
"Well, either way, they've chosen him as their leader. Some of the islanders are talking about the uh, red bloom as if it's some kind of sign. Well, apparently, there are old myths about red blessings for the king."
Tom and Jody both stiffen.
"Uh, is it me or..." Jody starts, and I look at her in confusion.
"What?" I ask, and Tom blinks at me.
"You had your first dream last night—the one with Catherine and me," He states, and I don't understand what he's getting at. "You wouldn't have had it yet."
"Had what?"
"A dream where we met a king dressed in red, and we kneeled in worship," Sam answers. "I know I've dreamed it."
"Yes, I dreamed it too," Tom says, jaw clenched as I stare in horror. "The skincoats are winning. The red is rising."
A/N: Things are getting interesting. Also what's crazy is there's only 9 more chapters left! What? Technically 9, since one chapter had to be split into two parts, although that two-parter will be posted either on the same day or one being on Friday and the other on Saturday just because I'm not making you wait a week.
Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day.