Page 9 of Juniper Unraveling

Nothing.

The snaking black smoke slithers into my periphery, as it does whenever bad things happen, and the darkness filters in. Voices bounce inside my skull.

It’s your fault! It’s your fault! It’s your fault! It’s your fault!

He’s disappeared.

Or perhaps he’s already dead.

And it’s my fault.

Chapter 3

Dani

Abel lies across my lap, sleeping, while I stroke his hair. His body jerks with the occasional sniffle, from his having cried to the point of exhaustion. We’ve traveled for nearly two hours, and I’m grateful to focus my attention on my sleeping brother, rather than all of the frightened faces that surround me. All of us packed in a truck, bound for a place that is both a curiosity and a terror.

Arid desert heat sits like a static cloud of misery, turning the cramped space unbearable with a thick, suffocating warmth that weakens the muscles and has my head feeling light. The overwhelming stench of body odor and piss from one of the younger boys’ wet diapers crinkles my nose. Not even the wind whipping through the tarp offers much relief.

Sweat dribbles down the back of my neck, but I refuse to wipe it away, for fear I’ll touch the stubble of what was once my long hair. Instead, I use the collar of my shirt and wick the moisture from my throat. I’d love nothing more than to lie down beside Abel and close my eyes, fall prey to the beast that tugs at my eyelids for sleep, but I can’t.

I have to stay awake.

I don’t like the quiet, though. It makes me think of my mother and Sarai. And I need to stuff them into a place where I can mourn them later, because I won’t cry in front of all these men.

The mood has shifted in the last hour, calmed for the most part, aside from a few younger boys who continue to ask for their mothers, and sob when no one has the heart to tell them they’re likely dead. A somber curtain of defeat hangs on the air, sapping away whatever fight might’ve been left in us.

It’s draining, not knowing what will happen to you, if you’ll be alive in the next hour, or wishing you weren’t.

Though it physically hurts to be here without her, I’m glad for what my mother did. The thought of Abel traveling alone with all of these strangers, being shuffled along like cattle and yelled at by those monsters, is a thought that spurs another sting in my eyes, and I have to blink away the tears itching to follow.

The words of my father drift through my mind, ones he spoke a number of times during our hunts whenever I’d sob while watching an animal bleed out of a wound I inflicted.

Where survival is concerned, tears have no place. Stay focused, and stay alive.

I’d give anything to have my dad here with us. He’d have answers, a plan. I’d feel braver with him sitting beside me.

My mother says he’s always with me, but that can’t be true. He’d never allow those men to hurt my mother and sister, to shuttle my brother and I off to a place that sounds like a nightmare, far away from our home.

If he were with me, he’d probably tell me to fight them, or find a clever way to escape.

My father was an inventor before the days of the Dredge. A computer programmer, who worked for one of the biggest companies in the world at the time. An innovator. He used to tell me that I was his young prodigy, the way I picked up on things at a much faster pace than my peers. Language, reading, hunting skills. He called me his wonder-kid.

Yet, I can’t think of a single thing at the moment. My brain is so scrambled, I fear I’ll mistakenly refer to myself as a girl, when it’s clear, for whatever reason, these monsters only take men and boys.

The vehicle comes to a rolling stop, and the ruffle of movement wakes Abel, who sits up from my lap, rubbing his eye. A hiccup of a sob tells me he forgot about this nightmare while dreaming, and I pull him into my lap.

“Shh, I’m here Abel. You’re okay.” I kiss the top of his head, but pause, trying to remember if my father had been so affectionate with him. I have to make the guards think I’m a boy—that’s what mother said.

They only take boys.

Abel buries his face into my shoulder, and at his muffled cry, I stroke his back.

The door flies open with an invasion of bright light, and I shield my eyes from it, trying to see past the blinding flare. Two of the figures with masks stand at either side of the exit, each holding a gun, as they usher us out.

A combination of fear and anger creates a knot in my chest, which feels as if it might burst at any moment.

All of the men and boys file out of the vehicle, and I set Abel down, guiding him to follow. My head is desperate to formulate a plan, something clever like my father would come up with, but I can’t. When I see those monsters in their masks, and their guns, all I see is the blood pooling at my feet and my mother’s lifeless body curled into my sister’s.