Through the Windshield Glass (29 page)

Kinga was taken
aback, but as always, she quickly recovered, "Alecsander, Perdita, and
Aida," she said forcefully, "Use their new names! You do not know the
power you wield in using a given name."

"What
difference does it make now?" I asked, "We think it can be an asset,
why not use any advantage we can get?"

"You don't
understand," Kinga said.

"Then
enlighten me," I almost screamed.

"It's
unimportant," Kinga replied vaguely. For the first time she wouldn't meet
my eyes and it gave me courage to move on.

"Are you
so disappointed with yourself that you have to keep creating new aliases to
start over? Because to me it seems like the only reason people aren't allowed
to be themselves here is because the woman they're following is too afraid of
her own past!”

The words were
out and I knew there was no way to take them back. I didn't want to either, I
was done being afraid of Kinga, I was done waiting for permission to speak
against her, and I was done not speaking my mind.

"I am not
afraid of my past," Kinga insisted quietly, "Others are, that's
why--"

"Sure,
sure, others are afraid of their past, but so are you! You don't want to
remember being a slave so you leaped at the opportunity for a new identity. You
had probably already forgotten most of your old life and Daman saw that as an
asset. Your fear gave our enemy his biggest weapon!"

Kinga's jaw
dropped, Katelyn gasped and dropped the bandages she had been about to wrap
around the blunt end of Kinga's arm, Michael poked his head in and the sounds
of work outside ceased.

My voice had
risen to dangerous levels, had we been inside it would have echoed for ages.
Instead, it permeated the thin walls of the tent, knocked the wood of the
trees, and stunned anyone within earshot.

"Alecsander
is simply the name my husband wishes to go by," Kinga said. I noticed her
swiftly blink away tears and a twinge of guilt almost made me apologize, but I
resisted, "Names are not weapons, they are tools to make a better life
than the ones we lived."

"Yes,"
I said indignantly, "Because my life as Ira the Watchful is so much better
than it was when I was Alice Patterson!"

"You
ungratefu--" Kinga broke off and screamed in violent agony. Michael moved
fully into the tent and knocked me aside.

"Fight it,
Kinga!" Michael shouted, "It's a choice, you can fight it!"

"I
can't!" Kinga screamed, "It's in me, we didn't stop it soon enough!”

Kinga grabbed a
handful of Michael's shirt with her remaining hand and brought her face level
with his. I gasped when I realized her eyes were completely black, "He's
taking me, I will not
　
be
the cause of more deaths! I will not!”

A deafening
bang sounded, Kinga flew backwards, for half a second her body was frozen in
the air, her mouth opened wide in torment. One eye looked normal, the other was
still black. Finally, she landed back on the ground. Her stomach was ripped
open, but she was still bleeding red mixed with poisonous black.

"You were
right, Alice," Kinga gasped, "I was afraid."

Kinga looked at
Michael, mouthed 'thank you', and fell silent for the last time. Michael
dropped the shotgun he had used to end Kinga’s life and left the tent.

Quietly,
Katelyn took a blanket from the bedroll she was sitting on and draped it over
Kinga's once strong, now emaciated body. I stayed long enough to make sure
Katelyn was all right I ran out after Michael. I knew where he would be.

Chapter Forty

I looked up
into the tree and I could just make out the sole of Michael's boot in the
foliage. As silently as I could, I climbed. As I neared him I made sure to make
some noise so I wouldn't frighten him into falling.

"Did you
love her?" I asked from ten feet below him.

Michael laughed
harshly, "No," he said, "There was a time--, but no, not
anymore.”

“You watched
that same thing happen to Daman didn’t you?” Thankfully, I didn’t have to
clarify what I had meant.

“I wish I had
known that he chose to die, and chose to change, I would've killed him and none
of this would have ever happened."

Despite his
efforts to keep it hidden, I knew Michael had been crying before I had reached
him, "I don't think you would have, he was your brother."

"He ended
my life!" Michael shouted. Birds fled from the top of the tree and a
squirrel froze a few feet above us, "He pulled me back down into that
hole, I might still be alive if it weren't for him I could've gone back
home."

"Would it
have been home without your brother?" I asked quietly.

Michael looked
down at me with a peculiar stare, "What do you mean?"

"After
James got married and moved away my house didn't feel like home anymore. I
never thought I'd really lose him like this, but now I know if he had died
first I would have never been the same again," I said. I found it strange
that I didn’t feel like crying about it anymore.

I knew Michael
still wanted to be alone, but I was afraid if I left him for too long his mood
would go from depressed to self-destructive, so I scaled the last ten feet and
stood on the branch he was sitting on. I hugged the trunk of the tree with one
hand and smoothed a loose hair of my ponytail back down.

Michael was
covered in Kinga's blood. The black poison had burned holes through his gray
jacket and the red had stained it in a dazzling pattern. His face was speckled
mostly with red, but a few spots of black had hit him there too, leaving behind
small, angry, circular burns.

"Scoot
over," I said to Michael. He did, the branch was wide and sturdy enough
for both of us to sit on comfortably. I turned sideways, straddling the limb
and asked Michael for his jacket. He complied with a blank look on his face. He
was staring into the foliage of a neighboring tree and didn't seem to be aware
of me at all.

I turned the
jacket inside out and spat on a corner a few times until it was wet enough to
scrub with. I grabbed Michael's jaw, turned his head towards me, and began
dabbing at the blood on his face. He winced a little when I touched the burns,
but that was the only show of feeling that I got from him.

"Sorry,"
I said every time I brushed a burn. I finished with his face and moved to his
neck. His black shirt was untouched, at least by demon blood, so I didn't
bother to check for any mess there.

I moved to his
hands which were worse than his face. Most of the blood was congealed already.
I swallowed bile several times while I wiped his hands clean and whispered
'sorry' dozens of times as I did so.

When I finished
I dropped the jacket onto a lower bough and we sat in silence as the sun began
to set. Stars burst through the sheer film of day and blanketed the world in
night.

"We should
go back to camp," I whispered, "Everyone will be wondering where we
are, we have to bury Kinga, and I think it's my turn to cook."

I stood and
offered my hand to Michael to help him up. When he was standing he was
incredibly close to me, barely three inches away from my nose.

"We should
hurry," I breathed. I made to move down the tree, but Michael stopped me.
Our noses were barely an inch apart now. I could feel his breath on my mouth,
but it wasn't the same as Daman's.

There was
nothing menacing in the way Michael was looking at me, he was hardly looking at
me at all, more like through me. He was looking into my eyes, there was still
sadness there, but something else too, a look I couldn't quite place. Michael
closed the gap between our mouths.

My eyes closed
of their own volition and I was violently aware of how amazing it felt to be
kissed for real, by someone I trusted, by someone I was falling for and not
being forced into for a game.

The kiss was
tender, Michael's fingers curled against my chin and as he pulled away he
brushed a hair behind my ear.

"It's my
turn to cook," I breathed. As soon as Michael had pulled away I realized
how dangerous it had been to let him do that. I couldn't let it happen again.

"Don't you
dare die," Michael replied.

"It's my
turn to cook," I said again, more insistently this time. Michael looked
confused.

"Is that
all you can say? Was it that bad?" Michael was trying to be charming, but
I couldn't let him prevail on me.

"What do
you think happens to the people who don't choose to leave here?" I asked.
I had to change the subject or risk letting myself reach for Michael again.

I searched
Michael's face and tried to ignore how the setting sun cast a red glow over his
cheeks and distressed every beautiful line of his face. I fought back the urge
to run from the tree like a frightened animal and waited for Michael's
reaction.

"I don't
know. Maybe they go to the same place, maybe they start over, or maybe they
have to wait for someone to help them. I try not to think about it,"
Michael admitted. He was looking at my mouth again. I pulled my lips in and
looked away at the sunset.

I nodded,
"Bridgette will kill me if I don't get down there to cook," I said.
Michael's mouth twitched as though he wanted to say something, but he let me
go.

I scampered
down the tree without even bothering to look down and make sure I was balancing
on stable branches. I just had to get away from Michael, I had to escape, I
couldn't have him distracting me from what I knew I had to do.

"Alice,
why are you going so fast? Bridgette will understand," Michael called
down. I was already on the ground and racing towards camp.

As soon as
Bridgette saw me she handed me a wooden spoon and pointed at the pot hanging
over the fire she'd already started.

All I had to do
was stir the stew Bridgette and Scarlett had thrown together from our remaining
food, but it was a welcome distraction. Especially when Michael finally joined
us, I kept my head down and pretended to be very intent on making sure every
vegetable went around the pot an equal number of times.

After dinner
there wasn't much I could do to avoid Michael completely. We had decided to
bury Kinga's body and there was no way Michael was missing that and there was
no viable excuse I could come up with to stay behind.

Roman, Arthur,
and Roan had already dug the grave before dinner; all the boys had to do was
lower the body, covered in blankets, into the hole.

Leigh had
insisted we use blankets instead of a spare tent so that Kinga would stay warm.
Kinga's body looked more like a butterfly's cocoon than the death clothes of
such a strong woman. I was glad for that though, I didn't want to see anymore
carnage and it was easier to bury a cocoon than a human being.

Few words were
said until it came to Leigh. She stood tearfully holding Maria's hand and when
she began speaking even Roman had to blink ferociously to hold back the tears.

"Kinga was
the first friend I made here. She was like a new mom to me, she told me my
mother and brother might be here and she would help me look. We found my mom,
but she wasn't the same anymore. She was calling herself a different name, and
she refused to believe I was her daughter. It was easy to forgive her though, I
knew how sad she was before she died, she was just a little lost and she had
forgotten how to smile. I tried to teach her again, but she yelled at me. I
knew my mommy had changed for good and that someone else would have to help
her. Kinga held me while I cried that night, that's when she gave me the name
Aida. She said I could forget everything that had happened to me and become a
new person just like she did."

Max grunted
uncomfortably and dragged her entire forearm across her face as Leigh
continued.

"Kinga
told me her whole story that night, even parts that happened to her before she
left Earth. That was the only time I ever saw her cry. She didn’t want to do
anything but forget. That's what she did; she forgot her smile too though. I
tried to remind her, but she didn't want to remember just yet. She was close, I
hope now, wherever she is, she'll find something to smile about.”

We all thought
we were finally in the clear and that we had made it through Leigh’s eulogy.
Then:

“And Michael,
she'd hate you for feeling guilty."

We all laughed
through fast flowing tears at that last part because of how true it was. Leigh
stooped down, picked up a handful of dirt and scattered it in the grave. Each
of us followed suit, but Leigh wasn't done yet. She pulled Maria's ear down to
her mouth and whispered words into Maria's ear for her to repeat.

"Kina--ver--nice.
Sad--but--stron. Happer-- now." Maria said.

Roman, Arthur,
and Roan stayed behind to fill the grave while the rest of us packed things
away and got ready for bed.

As I was about
to follow Leigh into my tent I looked back to see Michael staring into the
fire.

After a short
internal battle, I decided to say something comforting, "Leigh's right,
you know. Kinga wouldn't want you to feel guilty."

"How is
Leigh so perfectly forgiving and happy?" Michael asked.

"I don't
know," I answered honestly, "I don't think she had much other choice
in her situation. She had to decide to be positive, or let it destroy her.”

Michael nodded,
"Good night, Alice.”

I pretended not
to hear and slipped inside the tent without another word. I fell asleep, lips
abuzz with unsaid words and the remnants of something so dangerous I didn’t
even want to think about it.

Chapter Forty-one

Leigh cried
herself to sleep, but it still didn't take her long to get there and Maria was
asleep long before anyone else. I envied her ability to slumber while I was
fighting so much turmoil it didn't seem like I'd be able to sleep peacefully
again.