Page 149 of Juniper Unraveling

I open my eyes to the diminishing light of dusk.

Peering over Rhys’s shoulder, I catch sight of one of the soldiers scrambling toward the exit. I recognize him as a friend of Albert’s who lived in the Villas.

“Wait! Wait for me!” His shouts hardly carry over the sound of grinding metal. “Please!”

Thick steel walls slide together, locking him inside. I can hear his faint screams echo from the other side, as if he’s calling from the very depths of hell.

With my arms around his neck, I hold Rhys, trembling against him. All around us, Ragers and alphas pace and scramble about, but never breach the halo of safety that Rhys has swathed me inside.

Legion soldiers ignore us for the bigger threat, as they open fire from the guard towers and their vehicles lined at the perimeter of the building. Some race past us, caught up in the melee, and shoot at the impenetrable steel doors in a futile effort to save their trapped friends inside.

For the first time, I don’t know whose side I’m on.

The sound of gunfire reminds me of the stories Papa used to tell, of military forces trying to gain some control after the Dredge first hit. Through smoke and flashes of bullets flying, Rhys stumbles along, shooting the occasional alpha that crosses our path.

Across the open yard, he carries me toward the fence I once scaled to freedom years ago. “You climb over first,” he says, setting me down, and twists to face the oncoming alphas.

They hiss and lurch forward, no doubt after me, as I hop over the top of the fence and land on the other side. Rhys follows behind me.

The alphas scramble after us, at least two-dozen of them scaling the fence.

Hand-in-hand, we dash across the desert sand.

Fire burns in my lungs as I try to keep up the pace, the growls from behind urging me faster through the darkness gradually settling around us.

As a thunderous crash shatters inside my head, the earth shakes beneath my feet, knocking me off balance. I spin around to see flames and smoke where the alphas should be advancing on us. Through fire and debris, a few of them keep charging, one sporting a half-torn limb.

We sprint a short distance, and the sounds of gunfire strangle my breaths as I gasp, and I glance back to see alphas tumbling to the ground with the blasts.

A flash of blinding headlights accompanies the blare of a horn, and we halt in our tracks, shielding our eyes from the brightness.

At a green Calico truck idling before us, panic rips through my chest, a steady beat of urgency.

The growls behind us grow louder, while the few stray alphas close in.

“’The fuck you waiting for, a red carpet?” Tripp shouts from inside the truck, and the next breath bursts from my lungs on a hysterical laugh.

We round the vehicle, toward the back, and Rhys throws back the tarp, exposing strange faces crowded inside. Men. Women. Children. Their uniforms and skeletal frames are a dead giveaway that they’re Calico’s survivors.

Rhys lifts me into the back of the truck, and as soon as I’ve helped pull him inside, the truck lurches forward, kicking up clouds of dust around the alphas left behind.

With his hands gripping either side of my face, Rhys stares down at me. The corner of his lips kick up to a slight smile before he presses them to mine. “We made it. We’re safe, Wren.”

I grip his wrists, and with tears in my eyes, I smile, nodding. “Safe.”

Chapter 43

With a flaming torch in hand, I glance back toward where Rhys stands behind me, and at his nod, I toss it onto the trail of gasoline ahead we’ve laid down. A ring of fire circles the base of the small building and slithers through the opened door, where all the files sit stacked in boxes on the floor.

Every file of those who passed through Calico.

The orange monster swallows the boxes and scattered papers that detail every procedure, every horrific experiment, sending a cloud of ash into the air, purging our species’ darkest moments.

I reach out and collect the vestiges in my palm.

Some would say it’s a tragedy to erase the evidence.

But the evidence will never be erased as long as there are those to tell the stories of the innocent and carry on their memories.