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The ache from her nose and cheeks greeted her first. She lifted a trembling hand to her face and felt that it was swollen. Her nose had been broken, and she wouldn’t be able to identify which guard had done it. She suspected that it was the one she nearly blinded, but without any other evidence, there was no finding him. She sat up and leaned on one hand, overcome with grief. The house had become eerily quiet when Carolyn was taken, but now, it was a graveyard. Pictures of her children served as miniature gravestones. Their beds had become empty coffins.
She climbed to her feet slowly, letting the pain linger. She made no move to assuage it. She needed to feel it completely, bask in its immediacy. She had to commit this feeling to memory.
She fought back. That was admirable.
But she did not fight hard enough. She should have killed them.
Then you would be in prison, Jacob would have said. I would have still been taken.
“We could have run,” Willa rasped. “We could have scaled the Lasting Wall and run. We wouldn’t be pursued. We’d have to start over...but we would be together.”
Willa glanced around the room. They probably took her rifle. She’d have to get another one. She could head to Comida in a few days and retrieve her children herself. She was beginning to formulate a plan when she heard footsteps approaching from outside.
The door flew open and she readied for the worst.
Desmond Kinsler walked inside.
“Willa!” he cried out, rushing over to hug her. She allowed him to wrap his burly arms around her and hold her close. Even though it was his embrace, any connection would do.
She would not allow herself to cry in front of him though. That much, she promised.
“Where’s Jacob?” he asked, breaking away from her. He held her forearms like prison cuffs.
“They took him,” she whispered. She could feel herself slipping away. Her feelings were beginning to go numb. He had that effect on her.
“Already?” he asked. He looked behind him at the damaged door. “What happened here?”
“I shot a guard,” she muttered.
“What?!” he exclaimed. His face contorted into that of one of Musgrave’s gargoyles, full of rage and an air of superiority. “Why would you do a stupid thing like that?”
“You mean defending my child?” she said, refusing to look at him.
He gripped her arms tighter. “And what do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Working for my health? I’ve been trying to change the laws! What happened to Carolyn screwed up my head just as much as yours!”
“Did it?” she scoffed. She could feel herself coming back to life. The numbness was beginning to subside.
“What do you mean? She was my daughter too!”
“Was she?” she scowled. Her eyes met his. A spark ignited within her belly.
“Of course! I loved her! I love Jacob too.”
“Then why don’t you show it.”
“I tell them all the time.”
“All the time,” she snickered. “All the time is an hour to you? The rest of the time at home is spent either eating or sleeping.”
“Because I’m working.”
“On matters that will never change. Blood in Musgrave runs deep. Our culture can’t be changed unless it’s annihilated completely.”
“Is that your preference? Violence? Geez, Willa...what happened to the guard you shot?”
“Does it matter?”
“I need to know whether I need to get my wife a lawyer.”
Willa burst out laughing. Desmond stared at her in horror as he stepped away from her. He released his grip.
“What is wrong with you?” he asked.
“That is your first thought? How to defend me in court? Not to run off with me?”
“You committed a crime. I did not.”
“And that has always been the difference between us. Family is nothing but a title to you. A status to be won.”
“Willa,” he said softly. “That’s not true. I do love you. I realize that I have been away a lot, but when my mind is focused on something, it’s hard to break away.”
“Your focus should be us!” she said, pushing him further away. “If you concentrated on us this entire time then you wouldn’t have lost us!”
“I’ll appeal,” he said, examining her face carefully. “I’ll try to get them back.”
“More courts, more procedures,” Willa scoffed. “It will never work.”
“Hey,” Desmond frowned. “What do you mean that I lost you? You said ‘us.’ What does that mean?”
“It means what I said,” Willa said, walking past him.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to grab her wrist. She managed to dodge his attempt at the last second. Without hesitation, she ran out the door.
Let him feel what it’s like to be in that house alone, she thought. Let him feel the loss.
* * *
“THEY’RE INSIDE,” TRISTAN said. “Time to get started.”
“I’ll take point,” Willa said. “Go over to the wagons and carriages. Send them down on my signal. We’ll give Max a couple minutes to negotiate further. He may see his sister and be able to warn them about the incoming danger.”
“Let’s go,” Tristan said to Amy. They ran to their position while crouching down low. Willa backed away from the edge of the dune. When she felt that she was clear of sight, she stood up, and
Desmond followed suit.
“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into the knapsack at his side. He pulled out a small pistol—brand new. Willa raised her eyebrows.
“It’s for you,” Desmond whispered, placing it into her hands. He reached back in his bag and then handed her a few clips. “More protection. I heard you mention in the forest how you wished you had brought a gun.”
“Where did you get this?” she demanded.
“I stole it from one of Max’s men.”
Again, she was surprised. “That must have been terrifying for you.”
“You have no idea,” he laughed under his breath.
“We shouldn’t steal,” she said flatly.
“I know,” he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. “It’s wrong and all that, but, moral conundrums are not easily solvable out here. They might have stolen this, so is stealing from them a bad thing? Only the Ancients may know. If you feel badly about it, you can return it after we’re done.”
“No,” Willa said, gripping the gun tight.
“Well, alright then.”
“Thank you, Desmond.”
He beamed. “You acknowledged me.”
“I wouldn’t think anything of it,” she said, turning away from him.
“It’s just that you’ve hardly said my name to me directly. I began to think that you hated me.”
“Desmond,” Willa said, facing him. “This is no time for feelings.”
“Right, right,” he said with a nod. “The mission.”
She started to raise her hand towards Tristan and Amy, but then she stopped. She took a deep breath and looked at Desmond. “I am not the woman you married anymore. I’ve made sure of it. When I think of our time together, it’s like remembering childhood dreams. It’s hazy, and distant. I have no feelings when it comes to our past. However, I can’t pretend as if we do not share history. I acknowledge that you were a part of it, but that is where it will have to end. We are on this expedition now. We need to focus on that.”
“Willa,” Desmond’s face was pained. “No one is on this expedition because they are okay. You can’t tell me that our past means nothing to you, no matter how hard you try to bury it. Contrary to popular belief, soldiers feel too.”
“That may be how you feel. I don’t feel anything.”
“But—”
Willa gave the signal.
Tristan and Amy pushed the wagons and carriages down the hill one at a time. There was a dozen in all. A few of them missed the target, but the ones that hit their mark hit the walls so hard that they caved in on impact. Willa ran down the sand dune the moment the first one headed down. She managed to jump into one cart and catch a ride down as Tristan and Amy continued their task.
A few seconds before impact, Willa leapt out the cart and pulled up her gun. Keeping her focus down the barrel, she stepped out of the way of the other wagons and waited for the first of the Mercenaries to investigate the noise.
“What is going on out there?!” she heard someone yell. She put the gun down and grabbed a splintered wooden beam. The man who shouted stepped through the crude hole in the back of the house. He took one glance at Willa and nearly shouted, but she made sure he went unconscious. She threw the beam down and readied her gun. She took a second to look back at Tristan and Amy. They were heading down the hill, but it was a slow descent. They were being careful not to fall in the shifting sand. She decided to proceed.
Tristan would disapprove of some of her methods.
She didn’t plan on killing anyone, but she would if she had to. It depended on how the Mercenaries responded.
The inside was a mess, as if it was a safe house for hoarders. She had to climb over piles of machinery, books, clothes, furniture, food, dead animals and waste. The smell made her gag, and her eyes began to burn. She stayed focused though. She slowly managed through the back room and made it into the main hallway. It was a short one, but there were six rooms—three on each side—before it reached a stairway at the other end. The hall was also full of clutter and strange coagulated liquids, shoved up against cheap wallpaper and thin boards. She felt queasy looking at it.
“Shut your mouth!” she heard a man shout in the distance. “Tell me what you’ve done!”
She figured it was Max and his men. They were being detained while the Mercenaries investigated. It meant they were already alert, and most likely in position. They were going to ambush her.
Willa made the slightest of smiles and proceeded. She kicked a can of nails out the way, and a woman emerged from the first room on the left. She had an axe in her hand, and she swung at Willa with all her might. Willa ducked under the blow and elbowed the woman in the face to knock of her balance. Willa put the gun in her pants behind her, wretched the axe away from the wall and then slammed the butt of it into the woman’s face.
A man stepped out from the right with brass knuckles. Willa blocked his punch with the handle of the axe, popped him in the nose with the end of it, and then kicked him into the room.
He fell onto the floor and into a pile of rotten food. He groaned as he clutched his face yet he kept kicking at her wildly, as if she was going to fall for it. Willa shook her head and prepared to knock him out when a slight movement caught her eye.
Under the bed.
She quickly procured her gun and pointed it at the pair of beady eyes. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and then she saw the child. No, there was more than one. Two...three of them!
Willa’s eyes went wide.
“Help us,” one of the little girls broke down. Her cries affected the other two, and they all began to cry.
“Willa!” Tristan shouted as he managed to tackle a man behind her. They wrestled on the ground as Amy peeked into the room under Willa’s arms.
“Children?” Amy scowled. “That’s sick.”
“AMY!” Tristan shouted. “CAN YOU HELP?”
“Damn it,” Amy said under her breath. She ran over to help Tristan, but Willa was dumbstruck. She ground her teeth as the man beside the children stirred. He had gotten over the pain she had caused him, and now he was glaring at her like a wounded animal, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Willa raised her gun towards him
And shot him in the head.
* * *
WILLA CLENCHED HER fists together. The silk white gloves over her hands felt strange. The metallic blue dress she also wore wasn’t the best attire she had owned, but she had burned the rest of her fancy clothes a few days ago in a fit of rage. She reached up and patted her head. The sun hat sitting upon it wouldn’t work with the outfit. It had to go.
Frustrated, she threw the sun hat down upon the courthouse steps and strode inside, awkwardly walking upon her high heels. She stumbled once, and the shoes were cast aside too. She reached the double doors in her bare feet. She reached out and touched the handles with her white gloves. She nearly lost her grip. Goodbye gloves.
There was a time in which she enjoyed the little pleasures. The artistic flair she applied through her makeup. The sense of creating a masterpiece when she matched an outfit to the right accessories and shoes. She felt like an expert critic when she picked out the right purse, and a savvy shopper when she came home with several dresses, and she was still underbudget. That was back when she would go to parties almost every night, with or without Desmond. That was before her children were born and she was sequestered to her home. It was before they became her entire world, and the rest of life felt frivolous and dull.
The marble was cold beneath her feet, and she hadn’t been to the courthouse in a long time. She could tell that she was starting to get frustrated, and that wouldn’t be good if she was to have a meeting with a Judge. She walked past the gigantic cylindrical pillars, endless rows of conference rooms and libraries, to the far end of the hall where a clerk stood by a long oak desk. Behind the clerk were two spiraling staircases that led up to the courtrooms and the Judges’ chambers. She sighed in relief when she saw the insane looking stairs. Throwing away her high heels was a good move.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked, looking up from her notebook.
“Yes,” Willa said, folding her hands together. “I was handed a telegram, asking me to show up here and to talk to the clerk.”
“Name, please?” the clerk asked. Willa glanced at the nametag on the clerk’s finely pressed suit.
“My name is Willa Kinsler,” Willa said. “Thank you for helping me...Amanda.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Amanda said. She reached underneath the desk and pulled out a manila folder with a few colored papers inside. “Okay, this is for you. I am required to take it back when you are done looking through it. You can look over it here, or in one of our conference rooms if you need privacy.”
“Here will do,” Willa said. She patted the folder. “When am I supposed to meet with the Judge?”
“Hmm?”
“Does this folder contain what room number I’m supposed to go to? Sorry, I’m eager to have my case heard.”
“Ma’am, if there was a summons, you would have received one. This is an information exchange.”
“Okay,” Willa said. She opened the folder and began analyzing the documents. “What is this? What is this about?”
“Do you need help translating the documents?”
“I know what it says, Amanda. The message is just lost in translation. Why does it say that Jacob is being transported back to Musgrave? What happened?”
“Keep reading, Ma’am.”
Willa poured through the pages quickly, but she still could not process what she read.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?” the clerk asked.
“This says my children are dead,” Willa said, looking up at the clerk. “What kind of sick joke is this?”
“If I may,” Amanda said. She turned the papers around and examined them. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s true. Your daughter was involved in a hunting accident, and...Jacob took his life a day ago.”
“You expect me to believe this shit?!” Willa shouted.
“Ma’am,” Amanda warned. “Lower your voice.”
“NO! TAKE ME TO MY CHILDREN NOW!”
“Ma’am, they will be at the morgue in a couple days. They are in transit.”
“A hunting accident?! Carolyn? And Jacob? MY JACOB? YOU THINK HE KILLED HIMSELF!”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. I really am.”
“Get out my face,” Willa snapped, shoving Amanda’s face away.
“Security!” Amanda shouted.
Willa stormed out of the courthouse. Where was that court official? Where were the guards she fought? They had to be responsible for this.
