Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Neutralized?” Rae explodes. “What does that mean?”

She wraps her arms around her sister’s waist, trying to wrestle her away from the guard. The croc-person calmly snaps a pair of windcuffs on Lola, as though Rae isn’t there.

“I think it means Xander’s going to kill them,” Eduardo says, looking warily at the krabong that a guard points at his face.

“Not. Helpful,” Rae snaps as Lola twists around to face her older sister, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t want to die, Rae!” she screams. “Don’t let me die!”

With a gentleness I’ve never seen, Rae wipes away her tears. “I know, sissy. I know.”

“You’re not dying,” I say, setting my jaw, my teeth. I’m as determined as I’ve ever been. “Not if we have anything to do about it.”

Although I didn’t intend them to be, my words serve as a battle cry. Those of us that are free begin to attack, all at once. I launch myself at the croc-person restraining Sylvie and sink my teeth into their shoulder. The guard yelps as my teeth cut through the uniform, and satisfaction rushes through me, even though I know I’ll have to brush my teeth and rinse out my mouth a thousand times later.

Khun Anita shoves her frail body in between the guard and her grandson, Rae kicks out furiously at any and all employees, and Eduardo starts picking up croc-people and tossing them aside. He can’t get to his brother inside the net, though. For every guard he disposes of, two more get in his face. Bodin attempts his own rescue and jumps into the group of three guards who surround Preston, and even Mama gets in on the action, wrapping her scarf around a crocodile snout and pulling with all of her might.

The battle lasts two, maybe three minutes. We are simply outnumbered and outmatched. The guards try to hold back; I can tell. But I still receive blows over my eye and in my stomach. Pain ricochets through me, and I ride the wave until it abates. The remaining tingles tell me it’s going to bruise, but I’ve always been able to bear physical hurt more than emotional discomfort.

All twelve castaways are now restrained, some by cuffs, some by arms bent behind backs. Blood drips down Bodin’s face, and Rae snarls as a guard yanks her arm a little too hard. Khun Anita and Mama, too, are similarly subdued, but at least I can’t see any obvious injuries. Eduardo’s on the ground, surrounded by three guards. No one touches me, though.

A guard stands over me, his muscles tense. “No sudden moves, little girl. I won’t touch you unless I have to. Three’s orders.”

Too stunned to question his words, I pull my knees to my chest, keeping as still as possible.

Three shakes his head and sighs. “No one said anything about death,” he says. “Please don’t struggle.”

“Why else are you taking us, if not to kill us?” Preston bellows, yanking his hands uselessly in their cuffs.

“You will not be harmed,” Three says in his slow, gravelly way. “But you will be held in such a way that you pose no harm to yourselves—or anyone else.”

Rae breaks free of the croc-person holding her arm and advances on Three, coming up to his snout. Each of the croc-people takes a step closer to their apparent leader, krabongs at the ready. Three waves them off, although the muscles in his neck are tight with tension.

“You mean imprisoned,” Rae spits out. “You’re going to lock them up in a cage like an animal. Don’t tiptoe around the truth. We already know that you’re monsters. You don’t even have a human face that you can hide behind.”

“Rae—” I struggle to my feet, but she’s not finished.

“You’re pathetic,” she screeches in Three’s face. “You have no power of your own. You only do what Xander tells you to do. What a waste of a human life. Oh wait—you’re not human anymore, are you? Hell, you don’t even have to wait for your next life. Your crocodile face tells us everything we need to know about your soul: it’s ugly and wretched and reptilian.”

“Leave him alone,” I say to Rae. She stumbles a couple steps away from Three, whose fingers have begun to tremble on the krabong. “It’s not his fault. He’s just following directions.”

Rae whirls on me. “Oh, so you’re defending monsters now?” She shakes her head bitterly. “Color me not surprised. You’re not losing anyone. Your mother’s standing right next to you.”

“I’m not defending him.” And I’m not. Because of Three, Mateo is thrashing in a net, his tail getting more and more tangled in the rope. Sylvie and Elizabeth are holding each other, as though they’re about to free-fall through the sky with no bungee cord. And Kit’s sitting on the dirt ground, his face buried in his knees, while Khun Anita kneels by his side, a comforting hand on his back. A guard stands behind each of them.

All of my friends, threatened by the true monster behind this scenario: Xander.

But Rae’s lost interest in my allegiances. She faces Three once more, her demeanor changing from harsh to conciliatory.

“My sister’s got bulletwood flowers dropping from her mouth,” Rae tells him. “She’s as gentle as the morning dew. She’s not a danger to anyone. Take me instead.”

“I can’t,” Three says regretfully. “Your power hasn’t surfaced.”

“But mine has.” A new voice enters the conversation.

We all turn to Khun Anita, who gets to her feet slowly, brushing the dirt off her wrinkled sari, her thick black hair cascading down her back.

“They won’t negotiate with you,” I say. “Any attempt to trade will fail.”

With my eyes, I plead, Don’t tell them your secret. Stay here with us, where you’ll be safe.

“I’m not interested in a trade.” Khun Anita’s head is held high; her eyes are solid steel. “My grandson is fourteen years old. He cannot be without a guardian. He cannot be without me.”

Kit lifts his head. “Nani, no. You don’t need to sacrifice for me.”

Khun Anita smiles beatifically. “What do you think I’ve been doing all of my life, boy?”

“But, Nani—”

She rumples the thick, black hair on her grandson’s head. It’s no mystery where he got that beautiful hair. “I promised your mother that I would protect you. And this is me protecting you.”

“I’m sorry,” Three says, his already thick voice thickened. He looks at Khun Anita with real sorrow in his eyes.

But I need to remember that Three is not my friend. He may have been kind to me, but he is fully and unequivocally on Xander’s side, executing his orders and hurting my friends.

“My instructions are clear,” Three continues. “We only take those who have manifested their abilities.”

“Ah, but I have,” Khun Anita replies calmly.

I try to catch her eye, but she stares straight ahead at Three, unflappable. I look around wildly, and like a homing pigeon, my gaze returns to where it always does: Mama.

She interprets the plea in my eyes and nods. “Nothing good will come out of this, friend,” Mama says to Khun Anita, her frail voice matching her frail frame. Out of all of us, she alone is no longer within five feet of a guard. No doubt they judge her threat level to be minuscule.

“I understand your maternal instinct,” Mama continues. “I feel it, too, with every breath that I take. But they’ll put you in different cells. They won’t let you anywhere near him.”

“That may be true. But you, of all people, know that I have to try.” Their eyes meet, and an unspoken understanding passes between them.

I want to shake them both. Forget motherly. Forget sacrificing yourself for other people. This is survival, damn it. And as much as I admire and respect their selflessness…I can’t bear to lose Khun Anita, too.

“I can prove to you that my ability has surfaced,” Khun Anita tells Three. “Send one of your guards into that copse. There, if they look at the young green palm, they’ll find an object that’s out of place.”

Three stares at her, at Mama, for a long moment, as though trying to peel back their brains. He then gestures to one of the croc-people, who disappears behind the dense grouping of trees.

In the silence that ensues, stress saturates the air. The guards all take fighting stances, one foot forward, the krabongs over their heads. One quick movement, and the tension could boil over.

“I’m going to hug my sister,” Rae announces.

The guard pulls Lola closer by the cuffs. “No touching.”

“She’s my sister,” Rae says, spreading her arms out wide, as though she’s about to embrace them both. “You’re taking her away. I’ll hug you both if I have to.”

The guard turns so that her back shields Lola from Rae.

“We can’t have you slipping her any weapons,” the guard says.

“What weapons?” Rae looks down at her tattooed arms and her ripped jeans. “We’re at your mercy for food and water. Where are we going to find a weapon?”

“We don’t take any chances,” the guard with his knee in Preston’s back says. His poor prisoner doesn’t speak—although he aims pitiful eyes at Rae, as though asking for a goodbye hug as well. “Two groups ago, a prisoner managed to construct an impressive spear out of a sharpened stick and a fork.”

“Is that why we have no forks on the buffet?” Kit asks weakly. “I’ve been eating my spaghetti with a spoon.” The humor falls flat, but I gotta admire the kid for trying.

We fall silent once more, and I crouch next to Kit. “You were bouncing all over the basketball court,” I say, trying not to move my lips. “Can’t you transport your soul to a krabong or something?”

“I wish.” Kit nods toward his hands. “These cuffs…”

I peer at the wind bracelets. I’d mistakenly assumed that they were the same as the ones that bound my own wrists. But these cuffs aren’t invisible. They’re…glowing. Faint zigzags of energy skim the surface of each wrist. I can’t tell if the light originates inside the cuffs or if—like the moon—the wind is reflecting another energy source. But one thing is clear: these cuffs do more than simply restrain their captive.

“I think my power’s been drained,” Kit murmurs.

I suck in a breath. He’s right. Nothing drips from Lola’s mouth. Preston’s mouth is perfectly human, and neither birds nor scents flock around Elizabeth and Sylvie. Only Mateo’s forelegs don’t appear restrained.

My knees go weak. I stand up before I can topple to the ground. Unimaginable technology. Limitless resources. We are so horribly outmatched that it’s becoming harder and harder to see a scenario where we best Xander.

“The cuffs neutralize their abilities, but they remain unharmed,” Three says, noticing my horror. He doesn’t miss much. “They will be safe, like I said,” he says to all of us, although his eyes remain on me. Why?

I lick my lips. “You said to come to you if I or the other castaways ever needed anything.” It’s a long, desperate shot, but that’s all I’ve got. “Well, I need your help now. Let my friends go.”

“I’m sorry,” Three says. “I can’t.”

“You lied to me?”

“No.” He shakes his head. He might’ve meant the action to be subtle, but with his long snout swinging back and forth, it’s anything but. “I meant what I said. I will do anything in my power to make your life easier. Unfortunately, very little is in my power.”

I move one shoulder. “So, your offer is meaningless. It has the same effect as a lie.”

Three opens his jaws, as though to dispute my conclusion, but the guard who went into the copse reappears, holding the lock of Khun Anita’s hair.

“Grandma’s right,” the croc-person says. “Her powers have surfaced. She’s coming with us.”

“What powers?” the employee holding Mateo’s net asks.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Three says abruptly. “Let’s go.”

I reach for Khun Anita, but my fingers close around air. She strides forward, her head held high. I know that she’ll continue to fight, imprisoned or not. Which means I need to be strong as well.

The croc-people lead our friends away, with three of them carrying Mateo’s crocodile body.

The few of us remaining watch morosely. Rae, Eduardo, Bodin, Mama, and myself. Out of twelve original castaways, five of us remain.

The only thing I’m sure of is that tomorrow, our number will be fewer.