

Innocents

Lena August

© 2013 Lena August

Smashwords Edition
Table of Contents

Chapter 1

I wake up to the smell of smoke. The thick bitter scent fills my small room, threatening to gag me. One of the islands must have surpassed its capacity again. My guess is that it is Thieves. Although Thieves is one of the largest islands, The Public Safety Council, or the PSC as most people call it, always has to find ways to decrease its population. Lately they have been using fires; they are easy and inexpensive and after you light the first match, the job gets done pretty quickly. Of course, the Prisoners' Rights Association would freak if they realized the PSC was responsible for starting the fires, but on an island as dry as Thieves, it is easy to make it look like an accident and Mainlands doesn't have enough officers to spare looking into fires on an island full of criminals, no matter how many people die.

I live on Innocents, the largest and center most island which serves as the headquarters to the PSC. It also houses the children of those sent to live on the islands. Surrounding us are six smaller islands, each devoted to a different crime, Murderers, Thieves, Dealers, Addicts, Crazies, and The Violent (most of us just refer to them as TVs).

The idea for the islands came more than 75 years ago. Prisons were becoming overcrowded and escapes more common so the three governing councils of the Northern American Alliance met to discuss a solution and out of that meeting the islands were born. The plan was to create seven islands a few miles off the shore of Mainlands. Then, when someone commits a crime, instead of being sentenced to prison, they are sentenced to life on the island that corresponded with their offense. The more serious the crime, the worse life is for you. For example, those sentenced to Addicts are allowed to live in decent apartments and have enough food to make life bearable. However, those sent to Murderers don't get any help from the outside, no food shipments, no pre-made shelters, nothing to make life easier. They have to fend for themselves. We learned in school that most Murderers don't live past their thirties. However, recently, the PRA has been lobbying hard for better conditions and more aid for Murderers.

I came to Innocents twelve years ago, when I was five. My father had been supplying an anti-PSC group with weapons and the officers found out about it. I remember sitting at our kitchen table doing homework when they came to arrest him. They pounded on the door, demanding we open up. My parents were too shocked to react, so the officers kicked in the entrance. They stormed into our kitchen, guns drawn, demanding to see our hands. I will never forget the look on my father's face, one of panic and defeat. They would have sent him to Dealers, but he resisted arrest. He pulled a knife and stabbed an officer in the heart. The officer's partner then shot my father in the head. I remember watching the pool of blood grow larger and larger until it trickled over to my chair. I couldn't stand up without stepping in it. Without my father's income, my mother resorted to stealing. We lasted a couple of months until she was caught and sent to Thieves, and I was sent to grow up on Innocents.

Now I am seventeen years old and almost done with guard training, soon I will be assigned an official occupation. You see, Innocents residents are never allowed to live back on Mainlands. Instead, we are trained to work as guards, maintenance workers, and food deliverers for the other six islands. Ever since I came to Innocents, I have been training to be a guard for Murderers, the most prestigious position available. Murderers guards live on two small islands off Murderers' coast and spend the day patrolling Murderers' shore from the outside of the fence surrounding it. They are allowed luxuries the rest of us are denied such as large houses, plentiful food, and unlimited electricity. It is also a dangerous job. Riots are common occurrences, and each of them brings the potential of death or injury for the guards. My guard instructor, Saffi Mehta, used to be a Murderers guard. She was injured in a fence assault and ended up losing her right arm. Her injuries forced her to return to Innocents and work as an instructor. Despite the dangers, I always knew that this is what I wanted to do, and I'm scheduled to take my Occupational test this week, the test that will decide if I will be able to achieve that dream.

I glance over at my standard issue alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. The angry red numbers tell me that it is just past six in the morning. Sighing, I force myself out of bed; there is less than a half hour until I have to meet Saffi before school for my final day of guards training. I rummage through my closet until I find my training clothes: yoga pants and a light weight T-shirt, and dress quickly. I pull my blonde hair into a ponytail before heading to the commons area for breakfast.

At this time in the morning, the commons is practically deserted. Most training takes place after school, which doesn't start until eight, so the majority of Innocents residents are still asleep. However, Saffi claims that the three hours devoted to training in the afternoon aren't nearly enough to prepare me for what's ahead and insists that I get up early for a few extra hours of instruction. I grab a tray from the serving counter and sit down at one of the empty tables. As usual, breakfast is far from appetizing. Today it's some kind of soggy, tasteless cooked grain and a glass of nutrient water. It's gross, but I try not to complain too much.

The desertification of much of North America has caused massive food shortages nationwide and I know that I should be thankful for what I have. Even so, it's difficult to choke down. I curse as I look down at my watch, it's already 6:30 and I know that Saffi will have words for me about my lack of punctuality. I drain the last of my nutrient water and rush to the fitness center. Like the commons, I have the place to myself, only Saffi is waiting for me. She's dressed in cargo pants and grey T-shirt sporting the national emblem of the NAA: three interlocking circles with the words "order, unity, excellence" inscribed inside, her deep black hair is twisted into a practical bun. She scowls when I slide to a stop in front of her, out of breath from sprinting here from breakfast.

"I'm glad you could make it, Brie," she scolds, "I was worried that you had forgotten, or perhaps that you had something more important than preparing for your future." I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her; I'm less than two minutes late. But one of the first lessons that Saffi taught me was the importance of punctuality and this is far from my first violation of that rule. Instead, I mumble and apology and Saffi seems to accept.

"Alright Brie, since you're obviously too distracted to make it here on time, we're going to start with some meditative exercises," Saffi instructs. I groan internally, I hate meditations and Saffi knows it. I never saw how teaching myself to 'be one with my surroundings' will help be in an attack, but Saffi is a big believer in the idea "mind over body."

After a half hour of deep breathing and stretching, Saffi finally allows me to stop and assigns me to forty five minutes in the Gamer, which is an advanced virtual fight simulator that allows students to participate in a variety of dangerous situations without actually risking injury. It got nicknamed the Gamer because it bears a resemblance to old fashioned machines kids used to play video games on in my great grandparents era.

I pick up my practice knife, which contains motion sensors to track my every move and the first mission flashes on the screen: I'm a guard on Murderers' southwestern border, statistically the most dangerous one, and a tree has fallen onto the chain link fence, compromising the perimeter. Two Murderers are coming at me and my job is to contain the threat and repair the fence before a massive breakout occurs. The first Murderer comes at me and I neatly sidestep his knife, grabbing his arm and using his momentum to send him to the ground. I knock him hard in the head with the butt of my blade and he slumps down, unconscious. The second one comes at me more hesitantly and I quickly evaluate her. The virtual Murderer is petite, about an inch shorter than me, but I know not to underestimate her because of size. She could easily make up for that in speed and agility. She is also a lefty, which could complicate things. She makes her first move and we lock in combat. As we fight, I begin to recognize her fighting style. I've definitely fought her before, which means she's not just a creation of the Gamer. I smile, only one other person I know fights as well as this, Saffi. She must be set up on the second Gamer. Knowing her technique, I am able to get the upper hand until finally I knock the knife out of her hand and bring my own blade down on her throat. The character dissolves and I am free to fix the fence, completing the mission.
Chapter 2

Saffi has me complete five more missions before I am allowed to leave, working me until the very last possible second and giving me just ten minutes until school starts. I have just enough time to change out of my sweaty clothes, grab my tablet containing my school books, and make it to my first class, History with Civics Applications, before the bell rings. Today we are learning about the formation of our country, the NAA, a topic that I've heard thousands of times. I doodle idly on my tablet, my attention drifting free of the over packed classroom. The sound of my name being called brings me back to reality and I glance up to the front of the room. The teacher is looking at me expectantly and I blush at being caught daydreaming.

"Uh sorry, what was the question?" I ask.

"I was wondering if you could explain to the class the significance of the Unity Act," she replies sweetly, clearly aware that I hadn't been paying attention. Thankfully, I actually know what the Unity Act is and I fumble to put my thoughts in order.

"Um, well, before the Unity Act, The United States and Canada were two separate countries. But when the Climate Disaster of 2088 struck both governments failed in the chaos that followed. Most of the U.S coast was underwater and desertification made the southern states uninhabitable. Extreme temperatures turned northern Canada into an artic wasteland. Refugees from the affected areas were flooding into the safe zones causing pandemonium that the current governments weren't designed to handle. The Unity Act rescued us from destruction and brought back order by combining the remaining portions of the United States and Canada into one country, the Northern American Alliance and created its three governing councils: the Public Safety Council, the Public Welfare Council, and the Public Defense Council."

The teacher nods in approval, "And can you tell us how the Islands came out of this?"

I struggle to remember the exact history behind the Islands. "Well, after the NAA was formed, crime rates were still soaring and they ran out of room in the prisons so the PSC had to come up with a solution, so they decided to create the islands."

"That's right, the three councils met in the National Security Convention of 2096 to talk about the formation of the islands..." She goes on to talk about the politics behind their creation and eventually I feel that it is safe for my mind to wander again.

The rest of the day passes with tedious slowness and when the last bell finally dismisses us, my mind is numb and I want nothing better than to return to my living compartment to sleep. However, after a hurried dinner, I force myself to make my way back to the fitness center for the second half of my training. But when I trudge into the gym, it's not Saffi who is waiting for me.

"Brie!" Someone shrieks excitedly and a tall brown haired girl collides with me, pulling me into a tight hug. "I haven't seen you in forever!" she shrieks and I extract myself from her arms. It's my Sera, my best friend, and the girl I practically grew up with on Innocents. Being a year older, Sera was already assigned her official occupation last year and therefore I rarely get to see her anymore. It's only until I see her standing here in front of me that I realize just how much I've missed her.

"Sera! It's been so weird not having you here," I tell her, "Next time it better not be a year before I see you again!"

Sera shrugs apologetically, "Sorry, it's been really busy on Crazies lately. They wouldn't let me take off until today. So, I hear your test day is coming up this week," she says happily, "I'm putting my money on maintenance duty on Addicts."

I shudder; any work on Addicts are the least desirable jobs, assigned to the least talented recruits.

"You nervous?" Sera pries.

"I'd kind of be crazy not to be."

Sera rolls her eyes, "Come on, you're practically guaranteed guard duty at Murderers. I mean, by the way Saffi goes on about you, I am totally expecting you to be some kind of bad ass Ninja warrior who can take on, like, six people at once."

I shrug, "Well, the most I've ever attempted was five."

"See, you have absolutely no reason to be nervous. Take it from someone who has already taken the test, it's no big deal."

I laugh "Well, you can't have done that well on it, since you're assigned to food and maintenance duty on Crazies. I mean, that is not exactly a very sought-after position."

Sera brushes this off, "Actually, I've been helping with the clinical trials lately," she informs me, "Anyway, I figured that if this is your last week on Innocents I wanted to be here, and I intend to make the most of it.

I grin, "Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Sera's blue eyes twinkle mischievously, "You'd better believe it. But that's going to have to wait until you're done here. Saffi would eat me alive if she saw me distracting you."

I look around for the familiar face of my Guards Instructor but can't find her in the crowd that has gathered here for their lessons. "Have you seen Saffi yet?" I ask.

Sera nods, "Yeah, she's in the back. Another instructor called in sick so she's stuck teaching Newbies." Sera leads me to the back of the gym and I see Saffi surrounded by a group of young Innocents. She's demonstrating how to properly execute a drill and I marvel at how well she manages to fight one-handed. I rarely get to observe her from an outsider's prospective.

I join her group and wait until she is done with the demonstration. I have to smile at how fixated the young Innocents are on her, their eyes never leaving her blade. They remind me of myself when I first came here, eager to learn and in awe of Saffi. Saffi catches my glance, smiling as if knowing what I was thinking and then turns to her class.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet my top student, Brie Vanguard. She's going to be teaching you about different types of parries and cuts." Ten faces turn to stare at me and I give Saffi a disgruntled look. It would have been nice to have a little warning that I was teaching beginners today. Sera smirks at my expression and takes a seat at the side of the gym to watch.

I smile at the class, "Hey guys, I'm Brie and I guess I'm your instructor for today." I give Saffi another pointed glare. First, I demonstrate a series of moves and explain their fundamentals. I then have them pair up to practice. I carefully observe each group as they attempt the handful of new skills that I showed them. I stop briefly to correct a tiny strawberry blonde girl who is twirling her knife so exuberantly, I'm afraid it will go flying out of her small hand.

"Remember," I tell her, "In a real fight scenario, you'll tire quickly, so try to keep your actions controlled to save energy." The girl nods, her eyes wide. "What's your name?" I ask her.

She looks away shyly, "Jordan," she replies quietly.

"Okay Jordan, Pretend that there is a glass wall two feet in every direction of you; keep your knife within those walls as much as possible." I do a quick demonstration and Jordan looks at me in awe.

"Someday, I want to be just as good as you," she exclaims proudly.

I grin at her, "If you listen to Saffi and practice hard, I think you'll be better."

Jordan smiles giddily, "Miss Saffi says that you're going to be a guard on Murderers! Is that true?" She squeaks excitedly.

"That's the plan," I tell her, "I have to take the test first though."

Jordan stares at me with wide eyes, "You have to take a test? What happens if you fail?"

I try not to laugh, "It's not that sort of test," I assure her, "You can't pass or fail. It just tells you where you'll best fit in."

"But what if the test tells me I have to work on Crazies?" She shudders at the thought of it.

"Just work hard now and you won't have to worry about that," I tell her bracingly, "Besides, one of my best friends works on Crazies and she insists that it isn't nearly as bad as they say it is." Jordan still looks worried, but she returns to her practice with renewed purpose.

By the end of their training period most of the students have gotten the hang of the basics and I dismiss them with a feeling of pride. Maybe someday when I'm too old to be a Murderers' Guard, I'll come back to teach. It would be nice knowing that I'm still helping to defend the NAA by training the next generation of guards.

It's only 7:30, so I still have a half hour left of training, and since the Gamer is in use, I spar with some of the advanced students for the rest of my session. Saffi has me take on several of them at a time and even outnumbered, I manage to defeat them without a problem. As I finish my last duel I look around the fitness center reminiscently. Since tomorrow is Friday, and we don't have lessons on Fridays, this may be the last time I'm in here for a while, being that I am taking my Occupational Test on Saturday. Saffi comes up to me and gives me a half hug,

"I'm going to miss teaching you, Kid," she says. I smile at the use of her old nickname for me. Since Saffi only teaches the advanced pupils, when I was assigned to her at the age of eleven, I was her youngest student and for the longest time she never learned my name, insisting on calling me Kid.

"I'll miss you too, Saffi," I tell her, and it's true. Ever since I came to Innocents, Saffi has been the closest thing I've had to a parent.

"I probably won't see you before you take your test, so good luck. I know you're going to shine," she says, and I'm amused to hear that she sounds a little choked up.

"Good bye, Saffi," I say, "And thanks for everything." She gives me another hug before heading out the door.

I meet Sera outside the fitness center and together we make our way to the living compartments. Since Sera now lives in the workers quarters on Crazies, she has to stay in the visitor's dorm on Innocents. We say our good nights and I head to my building. I shower, washing off all the sweat from training, and change into a comfortable pair of shorts and an old T-shirt. My fifth floor room is hot and stuffy and I'm tempted to open my window. However, the smoke from Thieves is still much too thick so I lie on top of my covers and fall asleep.
Chapter 3

When I wake up the next morning, the smoke is even heavier than yesterday, leaving a foul taste in my mouth every time I inhale. I roll out of bed, still half asleep. If Sera wasn't here I would have slept later, but I don't want to keep her waiting so I make my way to the cafeteria still in my pajamas.

"Hey Brie, you're finally awake," one of my other friends, Livi, calls as I enter the commons areas. Since Livi is only sixteen, we never have any classes together so I only get to see her on weekends. But even so, we have grown close since Sera left.

"It's not even 10 o'clock," I protest. Livi just shrugs her shoulders.

"Well, I've been up since five," She wrinkles her nose, "I don't see how you can sleep with all this smoke in the air."

I laugh, "Yeah, I see Thieves is having a little problem with fires lately."

Her smile fades a bit, and I understand, I have long since gotten used to the idea of the PSC causing "accidents" to lower the population when an island gets overcrowded, but Livi is sensitive about that kind of thing. She also hasn't had as much time to get used to the barbaric ways of the Islands. Livi came here only two years ago, making her older than most of the other residents were upon their arrival to Innocents.

This, along with her sensitive, rule abiding nature and clumsiness make her a target for insults. I protect her whenever I can. Luckily, Sera chooses this instant to enter the commons, covering the awkward moment. She catches sight of us and crosses the room to sit at our table. Sera beams when she sees Livi and springs on her, nearly bringing her to the ground. But Sera steadies her at the last moment, "Oh my God, Liv. I've really, really missed you!"

"Sera! I didn't even know you were here!" Livi gushes and Sera gives me an exaggerated glare, obviously wondering why I hadn't told her.

"Hey," I protest, "This is the first time I've seen Livi since you arrived. I didn't get around to mentioning it."

Sera waves me off. "Excuses," she mutters and I have to laugh.

"How long are you here for?" Livi demands

"Just until tomorrow," replies Sera, "I came to wish Brie good luck for her Occupational Test."

Livi looks down at her food unhappily and I know what's wrong. Once I leave, Livi will be left alone. She doesn't have many other friends. Sera notices this too and immediately breaks the silence, "Well, I thought that since this is one of Brie's last full days here we could spend it at the coast."

This sounds good to me, but Livi looks nervous.

"The guards will kill us if we're caught down there, it's off limits."

"Aw, relax, Liv," Sera says pulling Livi toward the door by the arm, "It's not like were criminals. And anyway, no one enforces that rule. People are always at the beach. Hey, were not going to defect to Mainlands or anything. It's just a swim."

Livi doesn't look completely reassured, but she allows Sera to drag her out the door. She trips as she walks past a group of girls sitting at a table and one of them snickers at her. I glare in their direction before hurrying to catch up with Sera and Livi.

"See, it's a perfect day for a swim," Sera says gleefully as we step outside.

I have to admit that she's right. Apart from the thick, black smoke coming from Thieves, it is a gorgeous late summer day, just right for spending in the water.

It's a ten minute walk from our living space to the coast, and Sera keeps us entertained with stories about her work. I listen at first, but then allow my attention to wander. If all goes well, in a few days' time I will be settled in my new house near Murderers. The prospect fills me with nervous anticipation. I can't wait to start my job.

Sera was right, I am the best trainee for it. Saffi has even admitted to me that I may be one of the best students she has ever trained. She also warned me that if I get on the wrong side of the fence, I won't be much of a match for the inhabitants of Murderers. But I don't intend on going over the fence. Guards stay on one side, Murderers on the other. That is the way it works. You start to have problems when the Murderers attempt to get on our side. That's what caused Saffi to lose her arm.

I am aroused from my daydreams by a cruel, scornful voice.

"Hey, no way. The newbie is actually breaking a rule?"

We have arrived at the coast, where a tall red-headed boy that I don't recognize and a group of his friends are already gathered. I grind my teeth, trying to keep my temper under control. Even though Livi has already been here for two years, the crueler Innocents still insist on calling her "newbie" on account of her difficulty adjusting to Innocents life. The red head walks up to Livi, getting in her face.

"You know, Newbie, it's against the rules to come down here. I'm surprised you even had the nerve to do it. All the times I've seen you, you've been stumbling around making sure you obey every rule possible. It's a bit pathetic really. But you'd better run away quick. You wouldn't want me reporting you."

My temper gets the better of me and I shove the boy away from Livi, "It's just as illegal for you to be here, and I really doubt the guards would punish us and not you." I snap angrily.

"Careful, Brie," Sera warns quietly. But I ignore her and glare at the boy.

The red head's eyes harden as he turns toward me, as if he's not used to being threatened, but his tone remains mocking.

"Ah, but you see, we're an exception. I doubt the guards would dare to do anything to us." His friends laugh as though they are sharing some kind of inside joke. "But, now that you're here, you might as well join us," he says scornfully. He slings his arm around Livi's shoulder and says in a carrying whisper "I'm sure I could find something to do with you."

I pull Livi out of the boy's grasp pushing him away hard enough to make him stumble back a few steps. He curses and then grabs my arm forcing me to face him.

"You better be careful watch yourself, bitch. I'll warn you that you don't want to pick a fight with me."

I force myself not to break eye contact. "Screw you," I say and I shake my arm from his grasp and push him out of the way. His eyes flash with rage, and I feel a strong sense of satisfaction. But as I turn around to head back, he lunges at me, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me back. Caught off guard, I fall heavily to the ground. Livi screams as the red head kicks me hard in the side.

Pain explodes down my body and it feels as if my ribs are on fire. Before I can recover, he kicks me again. This time, I am able to roll away to avoid the worst of it, but the blow still knocks the wind out of me. I see him winding up for a third kick. I brace myself, and just before his foot connects with my side, I grab his leg and yank it as hard as I can. He doesn't fall, but it upsets his balance just enough to allow me to scramble to my feet. Pain shoots through my side, but I ignore it the best I can.

While he is still recovering, I punch him hard in the stomach. He responds with a blow that hits me in my weakened side. It whirls me around and I cringe with pain. I hear him coming up behind me for another attack. I don't have time to turn around so I drive my elbow up as hard as I can. Something cracks as my elbow connects with its target and I feel warm blood squirt onto my arm. The boy falls, cursing, and clutching his nose, his face is covered with blood.

He rolls out of my range and staggers to his feet. I lunge for him, but before I can reach him, I am pulled back by a pair of strong arms. I allow myself to be dragged back and a man rushes toward my attacker and forces his hands away from his nose. It is still gushing blood.

"What the hell did you do to him?" He screams at me, "How dare you attack my son, on my island!"

My insides go cold. His island? Then I recognize the man, he is the president of the PSC, and I have just broken his son's nose.
Chapter 4

I try to pry myself out of the guard's grip, but he holds my arm tightly as the President inspects the damage that I have inflicted upon his son.

"What happened, Marco?" he demands.

"What do you think happened?" His son snaps vehemently, "When I tried to tell these three that this is a restricted area and they weren't allowed, _that one_ attacked when I had my back turned."

"That's not even close to the truth!" I say hotly, the guard restraining me tightens his grip on my upper arm.

The President fixes me with an icy stare, "Shut up, girl. I wasn't talking to you!" I want desperately to argue back, but I know my situation is severe enough without making things worse for myself.

Luckily, Sera comes to my aid, "Please sir, I saw the whole thing, Brie was attacked first, she only fought to protect herself."

"And what's your name, girl?" The President asks, his voice condescending.

Sera seems to shrink under his glare, "Sera Morris, sir."

"Tell me, Sera Morris, why am I to believe the word of a girl who has already been caught out of bounds over the word of my own son?"

Sera stares at her feet, this is the first time that I have seen her at a loss for words. Livi seems to be trying her hardest to fade into the background, her eyes darting fearfully back and forth from the President to me. The President seems to know he's won this argument, "You two will be escorted back to your living compartments," he tells Sera and Livi, "It shall be noted on your record that you were found trespassing on PSC land, be thankful that the punishment isn't more severe."

"Sir, what about Brie?" Sera asks hesitantly.

"Your friend must face the consequences of her actions. The disciplinary council will decide her punishment."

I wince at this news. The disciplinary council is made up of a select number of guards instructors, and while they may be fair on most occasions, Marco's father is their boss, and I have a feeling that they will rule in whatever way he tells them to. My only consolation is that Saffi Mehta is on the council, and while I doubt she will have any real power over their decision, it comforts me that at least I will have one person on my side.

Sera and Livi give me a remorseful look as they are led away by a severe looking woman.

"Follow me!" The President snaps at the guard holding my arm. I follow obediently along and the President leads us to the building that houses the PSC's headquarters on Innocents. We go through a maze of doors and hallways until he stops at an unmarked, heavy brown door. He inserts his key into the lock and it swings open, revealing what appears to be some sort of conference room. "Wait outside," the President commands the guard. "Sit down," he orders me once we are alone. I tentatively sit down in one of the cold, plastic chairs, trying to ignore the stabbing pains coming from my side.

"Do you know who I am?" He demands, pacing back and forth in front of me.

"Yes—sir" I throw in as an attempt to sound more respectful, "You're the president of the Public Safety Council."

"That's right," he says arrogantly, "I am Garrett Rhodin, which means my job is to ensure that violent offenders are punished—sent away so as to keep them from harming others. You are now one of those people that I have devoted my life to prosecuting."

"Your _son_ is the violent offender here. My actions against him were purely in self-defense. But I believe my friend already told you that." I try to keep my tone polite and even, but I doubt I was very successful.

Garrett Rhodin narrows his eyes, "That will be up to the council to decide, you will be given time to present your side. But for now, you are going to wait here, a guard will come to escort you to the council room when the time comes."

My ribs ache, I have been sitting alone in the conference room for a little over two hours. I briefly wonder, for about the thousandth time, what is going on in the Disciplinary Hall. Unable to take the wait any longer, I stride over to the door and pound on it with my fist. "Hey, I've been waiting for hours, I want to know what's going on..." To my surprise, the door opens and I find myself face to face with the guard. "How much longer do I have to stay in here?" I demand.

The guard looks down at me, his expression bored, "I suppose you'll wait until they're ready for you."

"And will that be soon?" I ask, exasperated.

He shrugs, "Maybe, maybe not."

I roll my eyes, and am about to retreat back into my room when I see another guard coming down the hall. "Council's ready for her now," he says.

"Finally," I mutter, earning me a dirty look from both guards.

The Disciplinary Hall is a large circular room with rows of raised chairs forming a semicircle around a platform containing a tall podium. The guards show me to my seat in the front row and then sit down on either side of me, perhaps as a precaution in case I decide to make a scene.

Garrett Rhodin is waiting at the podium, and, once I am seated, begins to talk. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the council, you have heard one version of the events that transpired today. At this time, I shall allow Brie Vanguard to share her side before we come to a consensus."

I walk up to the stage, assuming that the President will allow me to have the podium. However, once I get up there, I realize that he has no intention of moving, so I am forced to stand awkwardly sideways so that I don't have my back towards him or the council.

"Ms. Vanguard, do you deny that you, along with fellow Innocents residents Sera Morris and Livi Coleman, trespassed on PSC territory, therefore entering a restricted area."

"No," I answer, trying to keep the disdain in my voice to a minimum. The council mutters amongst themselves and I cringe, knowing that I have not made a very good first impression.

"And while you were there, you violently attacked my son, Marco Rhodin, causing a broken nose among other things."

"I was only acting in self-defense," I say emphatically, "Marco was mocking my friend, Livi, and when I interfered, he became violent and attacked me."

"So that's what you say happened?" Rhodin asks skeptically.

"That's what did happen," I insist.

"Very well, ladies and gentlemen, it is time for you to make your decision. You have heard the testimony of my son, along with three of his friends who all witnessed the event and who insist that Ms. Vanguard attacked Marco without provocation, and while the power to decide her punishment rests with you, it is my belief that someone with such obvious violent tendencies such as Brie Vanguard does not belong on Innocents," he turns to face me, a small smile playing on his lips, "She is a danger to everyone here. For the protection of all Innocents inhabitants, she must be sent away. And I personally believe she belongs on The Violents."

The council murmurs uneasily, and I feel helpless. How could I be sent to TVs? Only one person has been exiled from Innocents, I would be number two. I suppose that I should be thankful that I'm actually getting a trial, it's more than people back on Mainlands get. But I have a hard time feeling lucky with Garrett Rhodin lording over the council.

I look around, hoping for someone to speak in my defense. Someone does. Saffi stands up and turns to face the rest of the council. She gives me a quick glance before speaking. I admire how calm she looks, standing up to all these people who want to rip me apart, standing up to the president of the PSC.

"I believe that sending Brie to TVs would be a waste of a good trainee. Ms. Vanguard is one of our most promising students and was scheduled to take her Occupational Test tomorrow. I know she has an ambition to become a guard for Murderers and her aptitude tests support this," she gives me a quick smile before continuing, "Currently, we have a shortage of trainees who are strong enough to go to Murderers. I do not think we can afford to exile Brie."

Once again the council talks amongst themselves. Some of them actually seem convinced, and I feel a flutter of hope. Maybe things will end up all right after all. When I catch a glimpse of the President's sadistic smile, the hope is snuffed out as quickly as it came.

Once again, he addresses the council.

"I believe Councilwomen Mehta has made a valid point. We do have a shortage of recruits to send to Murderers. And it so happens that we are in need of a leader for the food expedition we are sending there tomorrow. It seems that Ms. Vanguard would be perfect to fill that spot."

I feel like I have been punched hard in the stomach, all the air has left my lungs, leaving me gasping. An expedition to Murderers is worse than being exiled to TVs. Ever since the Prisoners' Rights Association started calling for more humane treatment of the prisoners, Innocents have been sending out food expeditions once a month, only three people have ever come back. I'm still in shock when they vote to approve my death.

Saffi volunteers to walk me back to my room and a guard follows closely behind. We walk in silence most of the way. Only when we reach my hallway does she speak. "I know you are already counting yourself as dead, but you have a chance to survive. They will give you weapons so you will be able to defend yourself. You'll meet with the Murderers guards before they leave you; make sure you listen to everything they say. They know best how to survive and any information will be helpful." We reach my room, "You can't give up before you try, do you understand?"

I don't trust myself to talk so I just nod. Before I can disappear into my room she adds, "You are the most talented student I've ever had the opportunity to teach, if anyone can survive this, I know you can."

Tears spring to my eyes and I quickly close the door. I collapse onto my bed and sob into my pillow. I let the sobs exhaust me into sleep.

At nine in the morning, the guard stationed outside my room pounds on my door to wake me up. I'm still in my clothes from yesterday. Marco's blood has stained my shirt and still covers my arm. I'm a mess; hopefully they will allow me to shower before sending me to my doom. I try to sit up, but as soon as I do, my ribs explode with pain, causing me to cry out. I ease myself to a sitting position and lift up my shirt to observe the damage. The skin is a rainbow of colors ranging from deep blue to yellow. I touch it gingerly and wince. Forget about fighting, I will have difficulty just walking. The guard bangs on the door again impatiently. I limp over to my dresser and change out of my bloody clothes before opening my door. The guard glares at me. "Your team is waiting in the entrance hall. As leader of the expedition, it won't look good if you are late."

I do my best to maintain eye contact. "Can't I at least have a shower first?" I plead.

The guard's angry glare fades into a somewhat resigned look as he sees the blood smeared on my arm. "I'll give you five minutes."

I hurry down the hall to the communal bathroom. I am secretly hoping to see Sera, Livi, or any one of my friends. But the hallway is empty. I shower as quickly as I can and then make my way down to the entrance hall. Four people are already waiting, their expressions a mixture of impatience and anxiety. I observe each one. There are two girls and two boys, none of them I recognize. The oldest looks like he could be in his twenties; the youngest couldn't be older than fourteen. She is short and slender with blonde hair and reminds me strongly of Livi. They are so alike in appearance; she could be Livi's sister. Her expression is absolutely terrified. I take my place among them and we head outside.

The boat that brings us to Murderers' southwestern guard island is a run-down pontoon boat; one guard will be accompanying us there. The trip will take us about an hour. We sit in silence the entire way, trying to avoid eye contact with one another. As leader of the expedition, I try and appear calm and composed, but my heart is racing, and last night's tears are threatening to return. I refuse to show weakness in front of the others so I feign interest in a loose thread on my seat and struggle to keep my emotions under control. I coil the thread tightly around my finger, cutting of the circulation. The pain helps me stay grounded.

The boat shudders to a stop and I look up. We've arrived at the guard island where we will stay the night before being set loose. Two guards come up to meet us. Both look worn down, one has a scar from his right brow to the opposite cheek. Our guard laughs when he sees him.

"Thomas!" he shouts, clapping the guard on the shoulder, "You look worse and worse every time I see you. What, you didn't think your face was ugly enough already so you had to add the scar?"

The guard, Thomas, chuckles and runs his fingers across the jagged cut, "Yeah, you like it? Courtesy of one of the Volis. The little shit managed to get over the fence. I got him in the end, but not before he gave me this."

The guards turn their attention to the five of us. "I don't envy you guys, especially after what happened to the last group they sent in." He exchanges a dark look with his partner which leaves me wondering about their demise.

"Yeah, we prefer to stay on this side of the fence, you survive longer that way. But I don't suppose you were given much of a choice." He gives a short bark of laughter, "Better follow us, you have a lot to learn if you want any chance of survival."

Thomas addresses our guard again, "You sticking around, Palmer? Or are you running off to the safety of Innocents, as I remember, you never were up for a risk."

"I'm expected back at Innocents, the President's going to want to know that the drop off went all right"

"Ah yes," Thomas says, shooting my companions and I a quick glance, "I heard about that...incident... Well, you don't want to keep him waiting then. If I remember correctly, the President is not a patient man."

Palmer waves to the guards, gives us a sarcastic smile, and then heads back toward Innocents. I watch the boat until I realize the others are already walking away. I jog to catch up. The guards lead us to a large brick house; it reminds me of something I would see in the suburbs back on Mainlands, like the type I used to walk past every day on my way to school. Cool air hits me when I enter and I can hear the faint hum of an air conditioning unit, a luxury we never had on Innocents. We follow Thomas and the other guard into another room. It contains a long table and at least twenty chairs.

The guards motion for us to sit down and I take a seat next to a tall dark haired girl. Kyla, I think I heard someone call her. Thomas sits at the head of the table, but the other guard remains standing and speaks to us.

"I think you all know why you were chosen for this mission. Somehow in the last few weeks you've screwed up pretty badly and are now considered expendable to the PSC. They don't expect you to come out alive, and frankly, neither do I."

He stares around the table, making eye contact with each one of us, his gaze is emotionless. "But if you want to have any chance at all of getting out of there, you better make sure you listen up now. First of all, you have to know that you are not just facing a bunch of weak, underfed savages, struggling to survive. Many of them have banded together, forming clans. And they have grown strong. Let me tell you this, _they will not hesitate to kill you_ , and if you get attacked, then God help you. Our sources tell us that there are currently seven clans out there."

"What sources?" one of the boys sitting across from me interrupts.

The guard gives him a sardonic smile, "I'll just say that not everyone who comes up to the fence is bent on killing us, and some do have valuable information to offer for the right...price..."

I wonder what he is implying, but before I can ponder it too much, he continues.

"Anyway, you should be grateful that we have this information, because with it, you have a better chance of surviving. Tomorrow we will drop you off at the northwestern shore of the island. It will be a bit of a longer walk to the drop off area but..."

It's Kyla who interrupts this time, "What do you mean "drop off area" why can't we just set the food down on the other side of the fence and get out as quickly as we can?"

The guard stares at her as if she is stupid, "Because," he continues, "we don't want all that food in the wrong hands. Do you have any idea how bad it would be if all the supplies ended up in the hands of one of the more powerful clans?" The idea clearly scares him, "but as I was saying, you will have a little bit farther to walk, but hopefully it will mean you can avoid traveling through any Domus territory."

Kyla speaks again, "Domus? Why, who are they and what is so bad about them?"

The guard just laughs, "Have any of you heard of Marek Holden?"

We shake our heads.

"Yeah, well, I don't suppose they like talking about him much on Innocents. See, he lived on Innocents for quite some time. He was a very talented student. Then, when he was eighteen, he stabbed his guards instructor, got sent to Murderers. No one expected him to last very long."

He gives another short laugh, "Well, that was about twenty five years ago. Now he leads the most powerful clan there is. And our sources tell us he's raised himself a vicious little guard dog to fight his fights for him." The guard shrugs, "Apparently he's just as dangerous as Marek, if not more so. I've never seen him, but if what they say is true, you don't want to cross him. Not that you want to meet anyone on Murderers of course."

"So how will we know where to drop off the food?" One of the boys asks.

"You won't know the exact location," the guard explains, "but if you walk at a decent pace, it should be safe to drop it off in about a day and a half."

I feel shocked and utterly defeated. That means we will have to spend three days on Murderers, best case scenario. I try not to think about the odds of surviving that long. I look around at the faces of my teammates, their expressions reflect the fear that I feel.

The guard's voice brings my attention back to him.

"If you don't have any more questions, I suggest you take this time to rest up as much as you can. I doubt you will have much time for that during the next couple of days."

For a second his voice sounds almost sympathetic. He leads us to where we will be spending the night. It's a relatively small room, compared to the rest of the house at least. But it is still about twice the size of my living compartment back on Innocents. Five sleeping bags are already spread out. I guess last night was the last time I would ever sleep in a real bed.

Since it is only early afternoon, I can't bring myself to waste one of my last days inside sleeping, no matter how much I need the rest. I leave the room and quietly slip out of the house, hoping no one will notice me. I am not one hundred percent sure I am allowed to wander the island alone, but the temptation is too much to resist. Outside is beautiful. The thick smoke that polluted the sky back at Innocents isn't as bad here and I can actually smell the ocean. The island is green and full of trees, and to my surprise, small animals. I wonder how they got here, back on Innocents, the only animals we had were domestic, or sometimes an occasional wild bird that flew over from Mainlands. For a second, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like living here, something that I had not been allowing myself to think about.

If yesterday had not happened, all this could be mine; the fresh air, trees, big houses with air conditioning. The thought is too painful so I push it from my mind and continue on my route. Within a few minutes I arrive at the coast. This is when I get my first look at Murderers. Even from this distance, the island looks huge. It is densely forested and has a tall barbed wire topped fence separating the beach from the trees. I can just make out a guard pacing back a forth, patrolling the fence. The sight of the island brings back the memory of a different time that I sat staring at an island from a distance; the first time I saw Innocents. It feels like I've been suddenly transported back in time to the day I came to live on Innocents, the day my life changed forever. I remember sitting on the hard wooden seat of the boat that brought me from Mainlands, I was alone on deck the first time it came into view. All the rest of the new Innocents arrivals, along with our escorts were on the lower level, however, I couldn't stand the claustrophobic feeling that I got in the boat's small, confined quarters so I had escaped to the deck in order to have some breathing room. The day was perfect, sunny and cloudless, a rarity for the Pacific Northwest, and which allowed for miles of visibility. I was staring off into distance when the massive island came into view, the sight of it took my breath away. All I could do was stare at the place that was going to be my new home. I was so entranced by the island that I didn't even notice one of the escorts coming up behind me.

"It sure is something the first time you see it, isn't it?" she had said.

"It's huge," I replied, "But it's nothing like home. I don't want to live there, can't you send me back? Please?"

The escort looked at me understandingly, "And where was your home before this?"

"Portland. And it still is my home," I replied defiantly, "I promise that I'll do better than my parents if you just let me go back."

The escort had knelt down at my level, so her eyes met mine, "Brie, you have to remember that your parent's decisions were not your fault, and being sent to Innocents isn't a punishment. It's a chance to start over, free from their negative influence. The Public Safety Council has given you a new start at life, and I think that you'll come to realize that this is one of the best things that could happen to you, I promise."

The memory fades and I feel a dull pang of anger as I remember her words. I wonder what she would think if she knew that the PSC had given me a death sentence, not a new start. I attempt to push my anger aside as I take a seat on the sand, listening to the waves roll in and back out again. A faint breeze plays on my face, it smells like salt water. I allow myself to relax and lose myself in the beauty of the day.
Chapter 5

I sit here most of the day until it starts to grow dark. Then I quietly slip back into the house. Dinner that evening is a quiet, depressing affair. We all sit together, yet no one talks. We concentrate on our plates trying to force in as much food as possible. I am so nervous that I hardly taste what I am eating.

After dinner, I take a long shower, trying to let all my worries flow down the drain with the soapy water, to drown my fears. It doesn't work, so I give up and turn the water off. I towel off my hair and comb through the worst of the knots with my fingers. Then I head back to my room.

Everyone else is already lying down, sleeping, or at least pretending to. I can't imagine that any of us will get any sleep tonight. Still, we have to try, and we make a valiant effort. I estimate that it is well past midnight before someone finally speaks.

"I think it's obvious that none of us are going to be able to fall asleep, so we might as well talk to keep our minds off tomorrow." It's the dark haired boy who had interrupted the guard back at the table. "And I guess if no one else is going to fill the silence, then I will. My name is Calder...I volunteered for this mission."

I turn around in my sleeping bag to stare at him.

"Why would you volunteer for something like this?" I ask, "We've sent hundreds of people the Murderers and only three have ever come back."

Calder just shrugs, "At least I am doing something useful this way. It's better than working maintenance at Addicts all my life, which is what I was doing before I volunteered. I've been on Innocents for eleven years, since I was ten. My dad was sent to TVs after he got into a bar fight. My mom is still on Mainlands." He gives a sad laugh, "she refused to take me in, claiming I was going to be as violent as my dad. Anyway, I guess I figured that this was a chance to get away from life on Addicts, one way or another."

There is a long silence, until Kyla finally fills it. "I personally think life is better on Innocents than on Mainlands." She tosses her long brown hair out of her face, "But then again, I was raised in the Boston Projects, so I guess it doesn't take much to be better than that. Both my parents were sent to Addicts when I was twelve so I had more time out on Mainlands than most. Got a taste of what it was really like, instead of just hearing the romanticized version they teach at school. It's horrible, officers can take you in for questioning for no reason if they think you're acting suspiciously, and can keep you for however long they want. It happened to my parents several times. Sometimes I would come home from school to find the house empty and my parents wouldn't come home for days." She trails off, lost in her memories.

"How did you end up here?" Calder asks.

"Insubordination," she replies, "They tried to send me to work at Crazies and I told them no way, I'd rather spend the rest of my life on Murderers. Probably not the smartest thing I've ever said and according to them, I got my wish."

She shakes her head disbelievingly, "but I guess life is too short to spend time dwelling on things we can't change."

We sit in silence again, and then one by one the rest of us share our stories, what happened to send us to Innocents, how we ended up on the mission. Everything we had never told anyone else is suddenly spilling out. The other boy, a tall blond whose name is Eaton, was a guard at Addicts. He was caught taking bribes, which earned him a spot on the trip. Both his parents are on Thieves.

I learn that the young girl's name in Tegan, she is only fourteen and was born on Innocents. A few days earlier, she had found an old emergency raft that washed up onto the coast. She attempted to escape to Mainlands with it. It took only three minutes for them to catch her. Finally, I find myself relaying my life story.

I tell them about witnessing my dad stab the officer and how the blood pooled when he was shot. I tell them about my dreams of becoming a Murderers guard, and then about yesterday's fight. I am sure they have already heard the story, news spreads fast on Innocents, but they let me tell it anyways.

At the end of the night, it feels like a bond has formed between us. I try not to think about how that will make it harder to watch them die. But maybe I won't survive long enough to have to worry about that.

At five o'clock in the morning, we abandon our attempts to sleep and head out for breakfast. A couple of guards are just finishing eating, I recognize Thomas among them. He beckons us over.

"You are going to have to eat quickly." He tells us, "the next guard shift is leaving in fifteen minutes, and we need enough time to load the supplies."

I take a seat and begin to load my plate with eggs and bacon. As I eat, I manage to catch bits of the guards' conversations.

"Did you hear? There was a bit of excitement at the fence last night."

"Yeah, that's what Chad said. Were you there?"

"Yep, I just caught it at the end of my shift. Five of em' tried to climb the fence. Didn't make it very far, but it's been a while since we've had an attack of that size."

"You know, if we were allowed to carry guns, I doubt they would be so eager to screw with us."

"Sure, but you know the PSC, they don't want that kind of weaponry in the wrong hands if something happens.

"I think the PSC underestimates us. Ah well, did you catch their allegiance?"

"Merce thought the one guy was wearing an Astut symbol. But I don't know what they would be doing on this side of the island. Most likely they were Scorch. It wasn't like we were going to cross the fence to check the bodies" The guard laughs and stands up, facing us. "If you want to come with us, you'd better finish up quick. We leave in five minutes."

I shovel down the rest of my food and follow the others outside. The day is already hot and sticky and it seems that more smoke has blown in from Thieves overnight; the dark gray tinge gives the sky a foreboding look, like a storm is coming.

We stop at a small harbor, only three docks total. The boats are identical to the one that took us here. Thomas follows us down, pulling a cart filled with black objects. As he comes closer I realize that they are backpacks, the kind you take when you are doing an overnight hike. He hands one to each of us.

"This is your lifeline; it contains food, water, and most importantly, your weapons. Unfortunately, the PSC only allows us to give you knives. If it were up to me, you'd go in there with high powered guns. But their logic is if you are attacked and defeated, at least the clans won't gain anything too valuable or dangerous." He shrugs to show his disagreement with the PSC. "Rumor has it that there's a new bill going through the Councils that would make it legal for us to carry guns, but until that happens, these are the best that I can give you. The pack also contains a bag of food to drop off. Remember, walk for a day and a half before you leave it. And by that time, you will be closer to the other end of the island so don't attempt to backtrack, we don't want you lost and wandering around, especially not in Domus territory."

I stare at my bag. I was expecting to have to hall crates and crates of food. The guard nearest to me correctly interprets my incredulous expression.

"The PSC agreed to send food to Murderers, but the Prisoners' Rights Association failed to specify how much food they wanted to send. And food isn't cheap so..." He trails off.

Well, it doesn't matter to me how much food the Murderers get. This just means our job is easier. I shoulder my pack and take a seat on the boat. It takes only ten minutes to arrive at Murderers. Up close, the forest that covers the island looks huge. Before stepping off the boat, I rummage in my pack and retrieve the knife, my only hope for survival. The blade is longer than I am used to and is carefully engraved with the mark of Innocents: a single star enclosed within a circle. I feel comforted having the knife in my hand. Even if it is an illusion, the feeling of the cold steel gives me a sense of security. I take a deep breath and walk toward the gate. A guard is waiting for us with a key.

"I'll see you at the funeral," he says mockingly as he unlocks the gate. However, when he wishes us good luck, his voice is sincere.

Once we are all through the gate, my team looks to me for directions. Oh, right, I'm supposed to be the leader of this thing.

"First, you should all take out your knives, and then um, I guess we can just start walking this way..." I trail off uncertainly.

The forest is so dense that we lose sight of the fence within five minutes. Branches keep cutting my face, and I am already drenched with sweat. My rib injury burns with every step, and I have to take care not to groan in pain. I look around and see that the rest of my team is faring no better. After an hour, Tegan begins to trail behind the group. As much as I want to avoid doing it, we have to stop and take a rest. After all, I am not sure my ribs can handle much more walking without a break.

We flop down on the ground, probably making much more noise than is smart. I find my water bottle and take several huge gulps before realizing I should probably conserve it. The size of the bottle concerns me. It really only holds enough for a meager day's worth. Hopefully we won't get sick from drinking from the rivers and ponds. Although I am still exhausted, I figure it's unwise to remain sedentary for very long, so I give the command to continue.

"Just five more minutes," Eaton pleads

I consider this and decide to give in. Perhaps if we rest now, we will be able to use our energy later on. I take a seat on the forest floor. The air is nicer down here, cooler and somewhat lacking in the smell of smoke. Quietly, Kyla takes a seat next to me.

"It could be my imagination, but I think someone might be watching us," she whispers.

I freeze and scan the surroundings. "How do you know?" I ask.

"I just have this feeling. And a couple of times I thought I heard twigs snapping. It's probably nothing, but I just thought I should tell you."

I nod. "Okay guys, I think we should head out now," I say as casually as possible. If we are being watched, I don't want them to know that we have been alerted to their presence, whoever "them" is.

Eaton begins to complain but I shoot him a look, trying to silently convey that we may be in danger. Perhaps he understands because he gets up without another word.

As we start walking, I too become aware of a faint rustling in the brush, an occasional snap of a twig. We are, without a doubt, being followed, and on an island where everyone has killed before, this is not a good thing. I grip my knife tightly. My palm begins to sweat and I have trouble keeping the blade steady. I hear another twig snap, this time coming from my left. I jump violently, whirling around to face the noise, but the only person there is Calder. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of my raised knife.

"Careful," he says smiling, "There are enough ways to die in here already without having to worry about being accidentally stabbed by the team leader."

I am about to reply with a witty remark when I see a dark shape out of the corner of my eye. I barely have time to shout a warning before they abandon their hiding places, coming at us from all sides. Ten of them at least.
Chapter 6

A knife comes flying through the air, I dive to avoid it, but Calder is not so lucky. It embeds itself deeply in his neck; I can see the tip of the blade poking out the other side. Deliriously, he grabs the handle and yanks it free. Immediately, blood spurts forth like a fountain. There is nothing I can do for him now so I turn away, but I can still hear him choking on his own blood. I sense someone coming at me from behind and I spin around, slashing with my blade.

My attacker is huge, easily over six feet. He avoids my strike without difficulty and retaliates. I manage to deflect his blow off the blade of my knife, but the strength of the attack sends a jolt up my shoulder, nearly dislocating it. With strength and size against me, I know I have to be quick to make up for it. I hear a girl scream in pain. Is it Tegan? Kyla? Whoever, it is, I cannot help them now. My assailant comes at me again, this time aiming high. I hit the ground to avoid him and, ignoring the pain that has reignited in my side, roll toward his feet. I manage to slash at his lower leg, severing his Achilles' Tendon. His leg gives out and he falls to the ground. My hand trembling, I stab downward towards his heart.

Before I can stand back up, someone grabs me, forcing me to the ground and pins me down with his foot. I don't even have my knife; it is still lodged in the body, far out of reach so I am completely unarmed. He grins as he drives his blade toward my heart. Before it can connect, Eaton stumbles into him while deep in combat. The knife misses my heart. Instead, it engraves a deep cut in my stomach, but at least I am alive...for now. Using his momentary distraction against him, I kick my opponent hard in the ribs. He doubles over and drops his knife. I dive for it at the same time he does. We struggle for a moment until I swing my elbow back, hitting him in the stomach. I grab the knife and bring it swiftly across his neck. Hot blood gushes over my hands and I force myself not to gag.

I spring to my feet, noticing that Eaton is still struggling to defend himself and sprint over to help him. Before I can get there, his challenger ends Eaton's life with a single deadly thrust and then turns toward me, casually wiping his blade on his pants. I grip my knife tighter to keep my hands from shaking as I jump over a body to meet him. I try to dodge his first strike, but I am exhausted, my reflexes slower, and my ribs and stomach ache in protest to any movement. His blow connects at my arm, but the cut seems shallow enough. I try to strike back, but he jumps out of range as I lunge toward him.

My side bursts with pain as I overextend myself so I am forced to stumble a few steps back. He comes at me again, but this time I am ready. As he slashes his knife toward me, I bring mine down onto his forearm. I doubt I did much damage, but he screams in pain, the weapon falling from his hand. Before I can react, he punches me in the stomach. When his fist hits my gash, white lights explode in my vision. He responds with another blow to the head. I stumble around, disoriented. I hear laughter, and realize it must be coming from his surviving companions.

A hand grasps around my throat, closing off my airway. I struggle for breath, but already my vision has a black tinge around it. My resistance becomes weaker and weaker, and I know I am about to die. Then I hear a surprised yell and the hand falls away from my throat. I fall on to the ground, retching and massaging my neck. My vision clears and I see my attacker lying nearby, his eyes are glassy, a knife lodged in his back.

A tall, dark haired boy retrieves the dagger and turns to face the survivors. To my pain-clouded brain, it looks as if they are nervous, which seems pretty stupid since there are about five of them and only one of him. My rescuer advances on them slowly, a knife held in each hand. When he is only a few feet from them he launches into action, taking one down within seconds. He fights with a fierce yet elegant grace, slashing and stabbing, the daggers acting like deadly extensions to his hands.

When the last body falls to the ground, he wipes the sweat from his brow and cleans the blood off his knife, casually, as if he has done it many times. As he turns toward me, I try to sit up. However, now that the adrenalin has worn off, the pain from my stomach and ribs won't allow it, so I lie back. My skin feels cold and clammy, I know I have lost a lot of blood and the gash on my stomach is still bleeding freely.

As the stranger approaches, I wish I had my knife, or something to defend myself with. However, after watching him easily dispatch five heavily armed Murderers, I know that no number of knives would protect me if he decided to kill me. Once he gets within five steps of me, I force my aching body into the sitting position, ignoring the stabbing pain from my stomach. If I am going to die, I will not die lying down. The boy regards me coldly.

"Don't try and move, and don't even think about running away. Not that you would get very far," he warns. His voice is deep and dangerous.

He turns away from me and bends down next to the body of a girl, stirring feebly. I recognize her as Kyla. When he straightens up he calls to someone I can't see.

"Heath! Get over here; I'm going to need help carrying them."

A younger blonde boy comes out from the bushes and strides over to the other one.

"You take the smaller one," the dark haired boy orders and I assume he means me.

Heath, the blonde, gives a resigned sigh, "This is too dangerous, if Marek finds out about them, he'll kill us both."

The dark haired one scoffs, "He can't afford to kill me, who else would he get to fight his fights for him."

"Well, do you really think he will let you live once he finds out about your little plan?"

"Just shut up and do as you're told, let me worry about Marek."

I hear Heath grumbling, but I cannot make out his words. Then he heads over to me. He glances at my deep cut, still spilling out blood.

"I take it you can't walk?" He asks.

I just shake my head. The boy holds out his hand and I take it, scrambling to my feet. The effort creates a wave of nausea and I lean on a tree to keep myself from falling. The boy stares at me skeptically before calling to the other.

"Flynn, is this really worth it? The Scorch will be all over us once they find out you killed clan members, and carrying two Innocents will only slow us down."

Flynn curses, he already has Kyla slung over his shoulder. "I can handle the Scorch. Just help me get these two back to camp and then you can just forget about the whole thing."

"How did I ever get the misfortune of getting stuck with you as a patrols partner?" Heath asks.

Flynn gives him a crooked half smile, "The numbers of times I've saved your life out here, you should be thankful I'm your partner."

Heath just shakes his head and heaves me up, lifting me in a fireman's carry. The pain is so severe that I allow myself to give in a drift into unconsciousness.
Chapter 7

When I wake up, I am lying in a make-shift shelter, composed of a mixture of scrap metal and plant material. I put my hand to my stomach and find that the bleeding has stopped and the cut has been bandaged. The cut on my forearm has also been treated. Even though I still feel weak, I attempt to sit up. My muscles ache in protest, but I shut out the pain. I look around the hut and discover Kyla sitting up in the opposite corner. She has a black eye and a sizeable bump on her forehead, but otherwise she looks uninjured. Other than that, the shelter is empty; I don't even have my backpack with me. When Kyla sees me she gives a forced smile. "Oh good, you're up, I was beginning to think you had died." Although she tries to keep her voice casual, I can hear the underlying panic.

"Where are we?" I ask

"Hell if I know. The last thing I remember is getting hit on the head. Next thing I know, I wake up here with you. I was hoping you knew what is going on. What happened? How did we get out of there alive?"

"I think someone rescued us." I answer, "I was fighting, but they had me trapped and were going to kill me. But then some guy came and killed them." I shudder at the memory, remembering the ease at which the boy killed the others. "Kyla," I say, "I think he might be Domus. I remember something he said, about working for Marek."

Fear clouds Kyla's dark eyes. "If he is, then we are worse than dead. We would have been better off dying back there."

I wonder why they bothered to rescue us in the first place. For information about the PSC, maybe? Or about the Murderers guards? I can't help but think that it would be a bad idea for any Murderers inhabitant to have intimate details on those imprisoning them. But whatever they want, I know that they will not just let us walk out the door once they have it.

"Where are the others?" Kyla asks the same question that has been nagging at my mind.

I swallow hard, "I know Calder and Eaton are dead, I saw it myself. But I didn't see Tegan after the fight started." Could she still be alive? Maybe she fled once they attacked and is now roaming around the woods looking for us. I admit that the prospect of her wandering alone on Murderers is not the best situation, but I allow myself this hope since it is better than the alternative. Kyla looks defeated; I can almost physically see the hope leaving her.

"Tegan may still be alive." I say quietly, "And so are we. We can escape, make it back to the fence and force them to let us out. We can't be that far away, we weren't walking long before we were attacked."

Kyla just shakes her head, "And how would we manage that? We have no idea where we are, plus, you're far to injured to walk."

I start to protest but Kyla cuts me off, "Brie, I know you are trying to hide it, but I can tell you are in pain. I bet you can't even stand up right now."

I want to deny it, but I know she is right. Still, there is no way I am going to sit here until they kill me.

"I have to try." I give Kyla a pleading look, but she just laughs at me.

"Good luck with that." Her voice is harsh, "And don't expect me to come carry you back when you get five steps out and realize you don't have the strength to continue."

I ignore her, and, using the walls for support, slowly stand up. The pain is agonizing and my legs feel weak, but I am standing. Sensing Kyla watching, I take a few slow steps and manage to get out the door. The sun is blinding, and I squint to make out my surroundings while my eyes adjust. Like most of the island, where I am now is surrounded by trees and dense bushes. I have no idea where I am.

I close my eyes and think. There must be something to show me where we came from. When I open my eyes, something catches my attention. A few leaves on a nearby bush have something red on them. Blood. Probably mine. Feeling triumphant, I head off in that direction. I haven't taken more than a few steps when I hear a cold voice behind me.

"Yeah, like I'm really just going to let you walk away after I went through so much trouble to bring you here."

I spin around to see the same dark haired boy who rescued me earlier. He is standing a few paces back; arms crossed over his chest, and is regarding me with a somewhat amused expression. He is wearing a black T-shirt with a strange symbol on the front. I give a fleeting look behind me, wondering if it is worth trying to escape. The boy sees my glance and raises an eyebrow.

"I just said you're not leaving." He grabs my wrist and leads me back to the shelter. I attempt to wrench my arm out of his hand, but his grip is firm.

"I can walk on my own, you know." I snap at him.

"Glad to hear it," he replies without loosening his hold.

"Who are you? Where are the others who were with me?"

"I'm Flynn." The boy answers, "As for the other girl that we saved along with you, I am assuming she is still in the hut..."

"No, I mean the team I came with."

Flynn still doesn't look back at me. "They're dead," He says matter-of -factly, "which I assumed you already knew."

"I only saw Calder and Eaton die, but there was another girl. She may be still alive." I can hear the desperation in my own voice as I cling to this one hope.

Flynn shakes his head, "No, unless she can survive multiple stab wounds to the heart and a slit throat, then I believe she is, in fact, dead." His voice is bitter.

My throat constricts. Maybe it's better this way, I think, now I don't have to worry about her getting captured.

When we reach the door of the hut, Flynn releases my wrist. Kyla gives a startled yelp when she sees him, but Flynn ignores her.

"What do you want with us?" I demand, "Why did you save us?" The pain and exhaustion from my small walk has caught up with me and I must grip the wall for support.

Flynn looks at me, his face still expressionless. "You should probably sit down now." He tells me.

"I'm fine." I snarl, glaring at him.

He scoffs, "Yeah, you look it," there is a hint of cold amusement in his voice, "you just got your stomach cut open so bad we thought you would probably die and you seem to have some severely bruised ribs, why wouldn't you be fine? But unless you want to add weeks onto your healing time, I wouldn't stay standing for too much longer."

I figure he is right so I slowly sink down to the floor. "Why did you rescue us?" I repeat.

"Simple," he says, "you are going to help get us out of here. You are going to help us escape Murderers."

"And why should we help you do that?" Kyla asks suspiciously.

"Because," Flynn says slowly, "if we get out alive, you do too."

"We?" I ask, "What do you mean if we get out alive, so do you? Who's all coming with us?"

"Myself and a friend," Flynn answers steadily.

I have to laugh at the word friend, how could anyone on Murderers have friends? Flynn gives me a dark look and then continues.

"We will leave in a week. Ideally, your ribs should be given a few weeks to heal, but if anyone in my clan discovers you, then you're dead and the longer we wait, the more likely that is to happen."

"We haven't even agreed to help you," Kyla protests.

"I'm not giving you a choice," Flynn replies in a smooth voice.

He turns to leave. "I'll be back later. Don't try to escape again. Trust me; you don't want to run into anyone here." He sets down the bag he was carrying.

"There are clothes in here; you will be safer if you aren't wearing clothes from Innocents." He says "Innocents" with disgust, as if it is a horrible disease. Then he walks out the door and disappears into the trees. When he is gone, I sift through the bag of clothes. It contains several T-shirts, all black and all sporting the same symbol I had seen on Flynn's shirt. It is a circle with two lines through it, one vertical and the other horizontal, stitched roughly onto the front of the shirt. I vaguely recognize it from one of my history textbooks. It is a symbol for death. I offer a shirt to Kyla, but she refuses.

"I don't want anything that once belonged to a Murderer," she explains.

I look down at my own shirt. It is torn and bloody, so I pull on one of the new ones. It fits well, and the fabric is surprisingly cool. It was probably sent here on a previous mission from Innocents. I lie back and allow myself to rest, although I don't feel tired, sleep finds me immediately.
Chapter 8

It only feels like seconds later when I am shaken awake by Kyla. The light is dim in the hut and I can tell it is getting late. Kyla's face looks worried. "I thought I heard footsteps," she whispers.

"It's probably just Flynn coming back," I tell her. But I pry a sharp piece of metal off the wall and hand it to Kyla, who is closest to the door. Even if it is Flynn, I don't trust him. Maybe it is better to kill him and escape while we can.

She quietly gets up and presses herself to the wall, ready to attack at any second. The door opens and Kyla springs into action, aiming to kill. Quicker than I would have thought possible, the intruder grabs her arm and twists it, turning Kyla's weapon against her until it is pointed at her throat. I recognize the person as Flynn. He pushes Kyla back, hard enough to send her to the floor, his dark eyes are furious.

"I came here to bring you some food," Flynn says, the anger clear in his voice, "but if you would rather I leave you here to rot, that's fine with me too."

"We didn't know it was you." I say defensively, although, personally, I had been pretty sure all along, but there was no need for him to know that.

He snorts derisively, "Like you wouldn't have attacked anyway." Flynn reaches into his pack and pulls out a small can of food and a bottle of water.

"Is that all you brought?" Kyla asks grumpily, earning her a sharp look from Flynn.

"Welcome to Murderers," he says, "You'll soon find that not everyone is as spoiled as you were on Innocents." He opens the can with the bit of metal Kyla had armed herself with previously and then hands the can to her. Kyla rejects it, "I don't need anything from you, Murderer." She says venomously.

"Have fun starving to death then, Innocent." He instead hands the can to me and I take it, too hungry to turn it away. I frown at Flynn while I eat.

"So who were those people who attacked us this morning? What did they want?" I ask. Flynn sits down, leaning against the opposite wall of the shelter, facing me.

"They were the Scorch, one of the neighboring clans. As for what they wanted, they were probably after your food, weapons, and clothes. They're also cannibals." He adds, as if as an afterthought.

"What?" I cry in disbelief. I didn't think even Murderers sank to that level of savagery.

"When you live in a place like Murderers, you learn fast that you can't be too picky, if the Domus weren't such a wealthy clan, perhaps we would have turned out that way also."

So it's true then, I think, Flynn is a member of Domus. "So you work for Marek Holden?" I inquire. Flynn nods.

"I guess you could say that." He answers.

"What do you do for him?"

He shrugs, "whatever he needs done. I mostly deal with rival clans, lead raids. Things he is too lazy to do himself."

"So won't he be mad when he realizes you are trying to escape?"

Flynn gives a small smile, "I think "mad" is a bit of an understatement of what he will be, actually."

I look at him. "But you are still going to try?"

"Of course." He answers, as though it should be obvious.

"Why?" I wonder.

Flynn catches my gaze and holds it, "Wouldn't you?"

That night, sleep is evasive. Every time I close my eyes I see the knife going through Calder's throat, I picture Tegan lying motionless, blood seeping across her chest. I also feel the blood on my hands as I drive the knife through the Scorch's heart. I curl up and try to direct my thoughts in a more positive direction. I think back to the day before Sera took her Occupational test, the last full day we spent together. The memory is as clear as though it were yesterday.

Sera and I lay in the tall beach grass a few yards from the ocean's edge, watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky. "So this is it, huh?" Sera says, breaking the silence that has stretched on for several minutes. I turn over on my side so that I can see her face.

"I guess so. Do you have any idea where they might place you?"

Sera shrugs, "My guards instructor keeps telling me that I have a chance to be a Dealers guard, but I don't know; I never had your aptitude for fighting. And anyway, I'm not sure I really want a life as a guard."

I sift some sand through my fingers before answering, "Remember all the plans we used to have for this day?" I ask.

Sera gives a snort of laughter, "Yeah, like swimming out to Washburn Isle?" She gazes out into the ocean where the small island is just visible in the dying light. The island, about half a mile off Innocents' shore is home to the high ranking members of the PSC when they come to oversee Islands business. Before taking your Occupational Test, Innocents tradition dictates that you try to swim to Washburn Isle and back without getting caught. Despite the many attempts, the challenge has still never been successfully accomplished. However, after a boy drowned during the swim a few years ago, further tries had dropped off dramatically.

"We should try it," I say suddenly.

Sera looks at me suspiciously, "Try what."

"Swimming to Washburn," I say casually, carefully studying Sera's reaction.

Sera grimaces, "Are you crazy? I do not want to die tonight."

"The water's been calm all day today, unusually calm, there's hardly a wave in sight."

"We would still get in loads of trouble when they catch us," Sera argues, still unconvinced.

"You're leaving tomorrow, Sera, what are they going to do, take away your Rec privileges for the day you have left?" I counter.

"They could still punish you though. You've still got another year on this rock."

I smirk at her, "Yeah, well, what's the fun without the risk?"

"Brie Alaena Vanguard! I can't believe you're trying to convince me to do this!" Sera shrieks, "I am _so_ going to regret this later."

"So you're in?" I pry and Sera gives me her best "I'm going to kill you" glare.

"Yeah, I'm in."

"Excellent." I sit up and brush the sand from my legs. We then strip down to our undergarments, leaving our clothes in a neat pile hidden in the grass. The sun has completely disappeared now, the water reflecting the now inky blackness of the sky. I wade into the shallows, the cool water causing goose bumps to appear on my arms and legs. Without looking to see if Sera is behind me, I quietly submerge myself in the dark water. After a few strokes, Sera catches up to me, she has always been the stronger swimmer. She starts to pull ahead, but my pride won't allow me to fall back, so I redouble my efforts to stay with her. Eventually, I see a light coming gradually closer along with the faint hum of an engine. I grab Sera's arm to get her attention, pointing in the direction of the boat. We silently tread water, keeping only our heads above the surface. After what feels like ages, the light begins to grow smaller and smaller. I give Sera a thumbs up and we continue swimming. Finally, my feet touch the sandy bottom and we splash up onto the shore of Washburn Isle.

"We made it!" Sera says disbelievingly, panting from the exertion of the swim. I flop down on the cold sand, still gasping for breath, "Don't get too excited, we still have to make it back." However, Sera is too busy looking around to pay any attention to me. "What do I have to do to live here?" Sera exclaims, the amazement apparent in her voice. I sit up to see what she is looking at and can't help but gasping a little. A massive house overlooks the spot on the beach that Sera and I are resting on, huge windows giving it an impressive view of the ocean. "I guess now we know where all the PSC's money goes," I joke, earning me a sharp look from Sera.

"Seriously though, do you think they ever assign trainees to work here?" Sera asks hopefully. I'm about to dash her hopes when suddenly a light clicks on, shining in our faces. We were so absorbed in our conversation we hadn't noticed the patrol boat making its way back toward us. Sera yelps in surprise and attempts to hide behind me and I curse under my breath, suddenly very aware that I'm dressed only in my bra and underwear. Two figures step out of the boat and head toward us, "Okay, fun's over, time to head back to Innocents." One of them says, his annoyance clear in every syllable. I give Sera a sheepish look and slowly stand up. The guard hands us each a towel, which I wrap myself in thankfully.

"What are your names?" The other guard asks, clearly bored.

"Brie Vanguard," I reply in a small voice.

"Sera Morris," Sera says, managing to stare daggers at me the entire time.

The guard checks our names on her tablet, "Alright, get in," she finally says, ushering us onto the small patrol boat. "I'll be alerting your guards instructor about this, and you both lose a week of Rec privileges. Next time we won't be so lenient so don't let us find you out of bounds again," she warns. We both hurriedly apologize and promise that it won't happen again. The guards seems satisfied and turn their backs on us. As soon as they do, I catch Sera's eye and suddenly have the insane urge to laugh. Sera looks at me bewilderedly as I stuff my fist into my mouth to try and stifle the noise. I must look ridiculous because suddenly Sera doubles over in silent giggles. One of the guards looks at us, eyebrow raised and shakes his head which causes Sera and I to laugh harder. By the time we manage to regain control over ourselves, the small boat has already arrived back on Innocents.

I allow this memory to engulf me and transport me away from the current nightmare that is my life and eventually I drift into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 9

The light streaming through the gaps in the walls wakes me the next morning. I don't know what time it is, but my stomach is rumbling. I hope Flynn is coming with more food. Kyla is already awake, picking moodily at the dirt floor. I can tell that she is in a bad mood, but I don't blame her. The girl hasn't eaten since we arrived at this hell on earth. When I sit up, I realize that my stomach wound has opened up again in my sleep and has bled through its bandages. Before I can assess the extent of the damage, I hear footsteps approaching and eagerly look up at the door. I may not like or trust Flynn, but at least he will bring more food. He frowns when he sees my open cut and starts toward me.

"Don't let him near you, Brie." Kyla warns.

Flynn rolls his eyes and says exasperatedly, "Okay, then I will just let that cut fester. If you would rather _Brie_ bleed to death than have me treat her, I guess I won't argue with you. But I am guessing Brie wouldn't like you much for that."

I give Kyla a look indicating that it's okay, and she gives a resigned shrug and allows Flynn to pass. He unwraps my bandage and his brow creases when he sees the cut. "It looks like you are going to need stitches after all." Flynn tells me, "we were trying to avoid it, but now it looks like the stitches will be necessary."

"Stitches?" I ask, immediately wary. People often got stitches back on Innocents, but they were always done by a trained professional, and I strongly doubt there are many of those here. "Who is going to do it? You?"

Flynn looks entertained by the idea. "Of course not," he says, "I know someone who is good at this kind of thing. In fact, it's the same person who treated you when we first brought you here yesterday. I'll bring him by in a bit."

I frown, "Is that the guy who helped carry me back here?"

"Heath?" Flynn asks incredulously, "God no, he ran back to base camp as soon as he dropped you off and now cowers in fear that someone will find out that he helped me. No, Landon is much more useful than Heath."

He leaves us with some food and heads out to find this Landon, who I hope is a trained doctor. This time, Kyla is too hungry to turn down the food so we pass the can back and forth. After a while, Kyla stops eating and looks up at me. "I don't trust this Flynn guy." She tells me. "How do we know that he is not going to double cross us the first opportunity he gets?"

"I know, I don't really trust him either. But right now, he is the only thing keeping us alive."

"Brie, I really think we should try and escape," she whispers, looking toward the door to make sure Flynn hasn't come back.

I cross my arms, "That's what I suggested yesterday and you wouldn't go along with it."

"Yesterday was different; we didn't know the full situation. It was better to wait and see what was going on. And besides, we can't help them escape, Flynn is Domus, do you have any idea how bad it would be for us to be associated with him." Her voice rings with frustration.

"Listen, Kyla." I say, "I think our best chance of survival is with Flynn so I am staying here, and I really think you should also." I am not sure that I have Kyla completely convinced, but she doesn't argue and we sit in silence again.

The sun is high, around noon maybe, when Flynn comes back. With him he brings another Domus, this one is a few years older than us, around twenty probably. The new guy smiles when he sees us, it is a nice smile, but it fades as soon as he sees my cut. He lets out a low whistle, "Yeah, this cut is worse than it was yesterday." He turns to me, "Unfortunately you are going to need a few stitches. It's our best bet to keep infection out but it is going to hurt like hell." He pulls out what looks like a regular needle and thread.

"Wait!" I yelp, "You do know how to do this, right? I mean you've done it successfully before?"

He gives me a cocky smile. "Relax sweetheart, I know what I'm doing. I had some medical experience on Mainlands before coming here. Now just try to hold still and not scream too loudly."

I dig my fingers into the ground and grit my teeth in anticipation of the pain. When it comes, the pain is blinding, and it takes all my resolve not to cry out. Finally it fades into a dull ache and I open my eyes. The Domus is examining his handiwork.

"That's about all I can do for her," he tells Flynn, "it should be fine now, but if it gets worse make sure to get me." He gets up and turns to leave, "And Flynn, I wouldn't stay too long. Marek has been asking where you've been disappearing off to. I think he is getting suspicious."

Flynn nods, "Thanks Landon. I'll be right behind you." Landon exits, leaving us alone with Flynn.

"Who was that?" Kyla demands, "Why does he know about us and how do you know you can trust him?"

"Landon's a friend." Flynn explains, "He knows about you because Brie obviously needed medical attention and he was the best one for the job." He nods toward me, "and I take it you're not sorry I let him help?"

"But how do you know you can trust him?" she inquires.

Flynn stares icily at Kyla, "Landon is about the only one I do trust, well, apart from maybe Heath. I doubt Heath would have the courage to betray me, at least. But you should also start to trust Landon, because he is coming with us." Flynn turns and follows Landon out the door.
Chapter 10

The next few days pass in this way. Flynn brings us food twice a day, but never stays to talk, and Landon never shows up again. I pass the time thinking about Sera and Livi, and trying not to think of Tegan, Calder, and Eaton. Kyla is getting restless. I can tell she still hasn't given up the hope of escaping. Her eyes constantly dart to the door, as though she is considering making a break for it.

I venture outside once in a while, mostly to bath in a nearby pond Flynn had mentioned to us, but the rest of the time, I try and stay off my feet as much as possible. My ribs are healing quickly, and unless I move suddenly, they are virtually pain free. Walking still hurts, but I figure that some progress is better than none. My stomach still poses some problems. Although the stitches keep the cut from opening up again and seem to keep infection out, it still aches miserably. What I wouldn't give for a couple of painkillers.

On the evening of our fifth day here, Flynn comes later than usual, carrying a heavy backpack.

"I just finalized the plans for the escape." He tells us, "We leave two nights from now. Landon and I will get you safely to the fence on the other side of the island, they shouldn't recognize you, but they will have been alerted that a team was sent in here a few days ago. Your job will be to get them to open the gate. Landon and I will be posing as the two guys from your team."

I frown, neither Landon nor Flynn look anything like Calder or Eaton. Flynn might share Calder's tall stature and brown hair and eyes, but he is younger and admittedly more handsome. And Landon, with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, looks nothing like either of them. I just hope the guards haven't seen any pictures of us.

"And what happens once we make it back to Innocents and they realize you aren't part of our team?" Kyla asks angrily, "You know they won't just let you get away with that."

"Nice of you to be concerned about us," Flynn states sarcastically, "But once Landon and I get to Innocents we won't be your concern anymore. We can disappear well enough and find a way to Mainlands."

"What about us then? If they can't punish you, the PSC will take it out on us!"

"I just promised to get you out of here safely, I never mentioned anything about after that. Once we get to Innocents, you won't be our concern either."

I wonder if I am imaging it, but his voice almost sounds regretful. Flynn reaches into his rucksack and withdraws two knives, both very similar to the ones they gave us back on the guards island. He hands one to each of us. "You trust us with these?" I say in shock as I take it. Flynn looks hesitant.

"I can't afford to have you out of practice, and you need to know what you can and can't do with your injuries," he explains bluntly.

I examine the blade and realize it is not just similar to the one I received before I came here; it is an identical copy, right down to the Innocents symbol carved into the steel. However, this is not my knife. The blade is not as sharp and the grips on the handle more worn down. It is obviously older than any my team carried, so how did Flynn come to have them? I look at him suspiciously, "Where did you get these?" I demand.

Flynn looks wary, "They were in our supply closet. We probably gained them in some sort of raid."

"A raid that you led?"

He shrugs, "Probably. Why? What does it matter to you where they came from? A knife is a knife, and at least you have something to protect yourself with."

Thoughts and emotions are swirling around in my head. Could Flynn possibly have attacked an Innocents mission? The thought makes me sick. Maybe, he just seized them from another clan. That is a possibility, right? I indicate to the star within the circle engraved on the blade. "These knives came from Innocents! Who did you get them from?"

Flynn's face clouds over and he doesn't answer. He doesn't have to; I can see the answer in his eyes.

"You murdered innocent people, didn't you?" I spit the words at him as harshly as I can, "You fit in so well here at Murderers, I have no idea why you would want to escape."

When Flynn speaks, his voice is stony. "You think I had a choice? I just do what Marek orders me to do, because if I don't, he will kill me, so I don't have time to sit around pondering what is right and wrong. It's all self-preservation on Murderers. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand that. You've always had everything provided for you."

"You expect me to feel sorry for you because you didn't have a choice," I yell, "As if that makes it all okay. Well, you had a choice back on Mainlands when you chose to murder someone. You got yourself sent here. And if Marek is so bad, why did you join with him in the first place?"

"Sent here? You think I was sent here?" Flynn snarls, "I was born here. My mother was part of Marek's clan and he killed her when she tried to sneak me away with her right after I was born. I never got any choice about anything in my life. Marek raised me these last eighteen years and trained me to be his guard. He allows me to live because I fight for him, and I am alive because I've learned not to question his orders or think about what he wants me to do. I am just doing what keeps me alive, something you never had to do." Flynn storms out the door. I sit in shock for a moment and then decide to go after him. Kyla tries to stop me, but I shake off her arm.

"Flynn!" I call. He stops and slowly turns. I can see rage still burning in his eyes. I am not sure if it is directed towards me, or Marek, or perhaps toward this life that he is so desperately trying to escape. "Flynn, I'm sorry. I was unfair, you're right, I can't pretend to understand your life. It's just, with everyone killing just to stay alive, it never ends and nobody wins. It's terrible."

"I know," Flynn says quietly, "Why do you think I want to escape?" He turns away again and this time I let him walk out of sight.

When I return to the hut, Kyla is pacing back and forth, impatiently waiting for me. "That Domus is insane and dangerous!" She hisses when she sees me, "We have to leave. I can't believe we've been at his mercy this entire time. I can't believe we were actually planning on helping him! And all this time, he was one of the people to murder all those Innocents."

The idea still repulses me, but now I can see Flynn's side of the story. I wonder what I would do in his position. If I were forced to choose between my own life, and the lives of complete strangers, who would I choose? I can't help but think that I would choose myself, just as Flynn had.

"Kyla, we actually have a chance to survive with Flynn. And I don't want to give up that chance. Besides, the plan is already set."

"My God, you're not still going to help him are you?" Kyla's face is incredulous. I nod.

"Brie! That freak is responsible for the deaths of some of our friends. We don't owe him anything."

"We owe him our lives," I point out quietly. Kyla makes an exasperated noise and sits down on the opposite side of the hut, facing the wall.

I doze off but am awaken early in the morning by the sound of Kyla moving around in the dark. "What are you doing?" I mumble sleepily.

"I told you," she snaps. "I'm not staying here. If you don't want to come with me then fine, I won't force you to, but I'm leaving." She strides outside.

"Kyla, wait!" I call, but she doesn't look back.

I curse and sit back down; hoping she will see sense and come back. Five minutes later, it becomes apparent that Kyla is not returning, and I realize I must go after her. She will not die out here alone. The morning is cooler than usual and I wish that I was wearing something heavier than my borrowed Domus T-shirt. Knife in hand, I look around for signs of the direction Kyla headed. Luckily, it rained last night and the ground is still soft. I find Kyla's footprints easily enough. The rising sun is ahead of me as I walk, so I know I must be heading east. I mentally curse Kyla, if she had chosen to go west there would be a chance she could have made it to the fence within a few hours. Provided she wasn't attacked along the way. But now she must traverse almost the entire island, not that I will let her get that far.

As the sun rises, the day quickly grows hotter, and I begin to sweat. Wiping a few damp strands of hair off my forehead, I quicken my pace, determined to catch Kyla and bring her back before she can get much further. I must have been walking for about an hour when I hear a distant scream. Ignoring the pain, I break into a run towards the noise. Finally, I see them, about fifty feet ahead. Kyla is fighting against two Murderers, but I see her defense fading fast. She makes a desperate lunge towards one her opponents, leaving herself undefended. Kyla screams again as a knife is plunged into her flesh, and judging by the location of the stab, it will be fatal. I swallow my scream of rage and hurl myself at the nearest Murderer, a tall, dark haired boy. I catch him by surprise and manage to slash at his shoulder, leaving a good sized cut. However, now their attention is focused on me, their next target. The trip here has left me tired and sore and I can tell that I am out matched by these two. I briefly consider running away. It's cowardly, yes, but it may be my best bet. Before I can decide, something hard collides with my side: a fist. The force sends me back a few steps, and the boy advances. Without the strength to defend myself against him, I brace myself for the fatal blow. The boy smiles as he strides forward. But before he can deliver the strike that will end my life, I hear a sharp voice.

"Kovan, wait, stop for a second!" A blond haired girl enters my field of vision, the girl who killed Kyla. "Look at her shirt; she's Domus, which means she could be worth something."

The boy looks skeptical, "What? You think Marek would pay for her?"

"He might if she is important and she looks like a fighter so she probably is. If she is valuable to them, Marek won't want to lose her. I'd bet that he'd be willing to pay a pretty high price."

"And if not, I'll be able to thank her for this nice shoulder wound." The boy grins, and the last thing I see before my vision goes black is him springing at me, the butt of his knife aimed for my head.

When I wake up, I am lying in a dark room with no idea where I am. The room is small with metal walls and a thick door. My hands are tied in front of me, I guess I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I sit up against the wall for what seems like an eternity before the door opens. The boy, Kovan, I think he is called, steps into the room. The look in his eyes tells me that I am going to pay for cutting him.

"What's your name, Domus?" His voice is smoother than I expected. When I remain silent, he comes over and crouches next to me.

"Now, you see, if you stay silent, we won't know what name to tell Marek. Without a name, he won't believe that we've captured anyone so you'd be forced to stay here, and I can guarantee that you would find that most unpleasant. Now, I am asking you, what is your name?" The anger radiates from his voice.

Good theory, too bad if they tell Marek my name he won't know who the heck I am, so I still don't say anything. Kovan takes out a knife, lovingly caressing the blade, and points it towards me.

"You have such a pretty face," he whispers, resting the tip of his knife on my eyebrow, "it would be such a shame to have to destroy something so nice." The knife digs into my skin, drawing blood. "Do you feel like answering my question now?"

I shudder, "Brie," I say, "My name is Brie."

Kovan allows the knife to travel gently down my cheek before pulling it away. "There, Brie, not as difficult as you made it, right?"

He turns and heads back out the door, leaving me alone again.

I should never have left the hut, I think, It was all for nothing. And it's true, all I managed to do was get myself taken hostage and stuck in a prison where my capturers will surely kill me, and painfully, as soon as they find out I am not of value to them. I didn't even manage to save Kyla. The thought of Kyla threatens to bring tears to my eyes.

While Kyla and I where never exactly friends, at least not in the way Sera, Livi, and I were, and we had only known each other for a few days, together we had managed to survive life or death situations. And that kind of experience forms bonds. I want to take time to grieve for Kyla, but right now I need to focus on surviving, and the only way to survive is to escape. The walls look as impenetrable as before, so I settle for something smaller: getting my hands free. The rope is tied tightly, but the knot they used is a simple one, one that we practiced untying millions of times in guards training. Still, it takes me a while to undo it, and by the time my hands are free, I hear footsteps approaching. I briefly consider attempting to overpower whoever is coming and make a run for it, but decide against it. I am still weak and don't know anything about where I am.

Instead, I position myself in front of the door, keeping my hands wrapped in the rope. With any luck, when it opens, I will be able to gather information about what lies beyond my cell. The door opens and I get a quick look at a long hallway. My heart falls, the building is obviously much larger than I was expecting, with more opportunities to get lost. How did they manage to build such a sizeable structure with the limited supplies that they have?

My visitor is a guard I don't recognize. She sets down a small plate of food and a glass of water. "You're lucky that you might be valuable to the Domus," she tells me, "otherwise we would never waste food on a prisoner." She gives me a disgusted look and leaves quickly. The food she brought contains a hunk of unknown meat and a tiny portion of rice. I think about what Flynn said about some of the clans being cannibals and decide against eating the meat. That leaves me with the rice, which only seems to rouse my appetite when it's gone, and a glass of water that can barely cool my aching throat. I am miserable
Chapter 11

No one visits me for the rest of the day, but there are always guards standing outside my cell and I can hear them discussing me.

"The messenger just left for Domus territory, that girl better be worth the risk we took sending him."

"What's the ransom?" This voice belongs to a woman, the one who brought the food to me.

"I don't know. Cadoc is hoping she might be worth some weapons, but he may have to settle for food."

"I think Kovan is hoping she's worthless to us. Cadoc's ordered him not to touch her until we know her value for fear of angering Marek."

The guard scoffs, "Well, Kovan isn't used to being cut. It really pissed him off and he's not the forgiving type."

This is Kovan's lucky day then, because Marek won't be paying one cent for me, I can guarantee that. He may even pay these guys to kill me, slowly and painfully, for aiding in his precious prodigy's escape plan. I wonder how Flynn felt when he discovered that we were gone. Angry? Betrayed? Would he simply replace us with the next group of Innocents that needed rescuing? The thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth. Great, am I really being possessive of someone I barely know? I admit that I feel terrible about betraying Flynn's trust. Pretty stupid, being that I had every intention of coming back. But now, out of all the things I could be worrying about, I find myself wishing I could explain to Flynn that I hadn't planned to run away. With these thoughts playing through my mind, I curl up in a ball and eventually drift off to sleep.

I don't know what time it is when I wake up, but there are angry voices coming from outside my cell. The door flings open and a thin man with black hair and a heavily scared face comes storming in.

"So," his voice is deathly calm, "Apparently you are worth absolutely nothing to the Domus. We just found the body of our messenger dumped on our border."

I don't say anything, holding my breath for what comes next.

He continues, "And this is rather...unfortunate... for you, because now I have a dilemma, and that dilemma is you. Vera tells me you might make a good fighter; I believe she was impressed with the way you slashed Kovan. She would have me offer you a place with us. But Kovan, he was a little less impressed, let me tell you, and seems to be looking forward to killing you. I believe I am going to oblige him. I just don't trust having a Domus around, and if you aren't valuable to Marek, I doubt you will be valuable to me. Kovan!" He shouts out the door and a minute later Kovan appears, a satisfied smirk on his face. "She's all yours. Try not to make a mess, huh? You'll be scrubbing out the blood stains."

"Thank you, Sir," Kovan bows his head respectfully at the man as he exits, leaving me alone with Kovan.

"I'll bet you're regretting attacking me now, aren't you?" He spits at my face and I recoil in disgust.

"Not really," I say coldly, "I was going to die either way, but now at least you have something to remember me by." I nod at his bandaged shoulder.

Kovan's lips curl, "Oh, but I think you fail to realize just how horrible of a death you've assured yourself."

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and then punches me in the face. The force sends me spinning and my nose begins to bleed. I turn back to face him, spitting blood out of my mouth. Kovan has taken out a short knife, a three inch blade at the most. Not much good for fighting, but perfect for causing pain without risking killing me before he intends to.

"The problem is, I never know where to start." He tells me as he points his knife at various parts of my body. I glare up into his eyes. My heart is pounding against my rib cage, but my eyes stay void of any emotion except hate, refusing to betray the fear coursing through me. I won't give Kovan that satisfaction. "Any suggestions?" He asks. "None? Ah, come on, you have to have some preference. No? Fair enough. How about we start at the shoulder since that seems to be your favorite target. We'll work our way from there, does that sound good?"

I want to reply scathingly, but my comment is drowned out by panicked yelling coming from outside.

Kovan curses, "We'll have to continue this session another time. That okay with you, sweetheart?" He rushes toward the door, "Stay here," he orders the guards outside, "I don't care what the hell happens, you just make sure she doesn't escape, alright?"

I attempt to stem the flow of blood coming from my nose, and scan the walls for a way out. Nothing. I've just made a mental plan to attack the next person who enters my cell and escape in the chaos when my cell door swings open. And then Flynn is standing in the doorway, a knife held in each hand, just like on the day I first saw him, his face distorted into a snarl as he takes down the guard who opened my door. In that moment, my only thought is how amazing he looks.

"Hurry Brie, we don't have much time," he says urgently, "we have to get out now."

He grabs me by the arm and practically drags me down the hallway. "Here, take this," he shoves one of his knifes into my hand and grabs a new one from his belt. I lose track of how many turns we take until he stops so suddenly, I run into him. "Why are we stopping?" I whisper, afraid of being overheard.

"This is where we are meeting Landon," Flynn informs me, "He went off in a different direction to cause a diversion, but he should be here any minute." He looks at me in concern, "Are you alright Brie? They didn't hurt you too badly, did they?"

I manage a small smile, "Yes, I'm fine, but if you had been a few minutes later I don't think there would have been much left to rescue. Why did you by the way? Rescue me, I mean. Not that I am complaining, but I am sure there will be plenty of other Innocents who would help you."

Flynn looks like he is about to respond, but then Landon comes bursting through the door. He doesn't look good, he's limping badly and clutching at an open gash in his side. The cocky smile he had been wearing the last time I saw him is replaced by a worried frown.

"Flynn, we've got to hurry. I think we are about to have company. I tried to lead them away, but they'll be here at any second."

We sprint out the door and down a long hallway. I have no idea where we are headed, but Flynn and Landon seem to know their way back. Soon my injuries start to get the better of me and I begin to trail back. I stumble and Flynn grabs my arm again, helping me stay on my feet.

Finally I see the exit, a wide double door with light streaming in from underneath it. We are sixty yards away, fifty, forty. We've almost reached it when a door opens to our right and Murderers stream in. We turn to head back in the direction we came, but they are there too. We are surrounded. Flynn exchanges a look with Landon and raises his knives a fraction of an inch and I understand. They are going to try to fight their way out. They wait for another second, and then as if on cue, leap into action. Flynn fights with such ferocity, his opponents seem to cower before him. He strikes at his challengers, killing them before they even realize what hit them. It is frightening, it is amazing. I fight the best I can, but I mostly just succeed in defending myself, not willing to risk going on offense. Landon's injuries also seem to be slowing him down, the cut in his side limiting his movement. That is when I notice Kovan heading towards him, Landon doesn't see him and Flynn is distracted, fighting several guards at once. My cry of warning is lost in the noise of the fight as Kovan takes out a long knife and buries it hilt deep in Landon's eye. Kovan pulls the knife free and pushes Landon away; he crumples in a heap on the ground as Kovan turns toward me, blood still dripping from the blade. I raise my knife, ready to defend myself, but Flynn has just kicked away his last opponent and his eyes are locked on Kovan, hatred etched in his face. Kovan is forced to turn away from me to face Flynn.

I have to admit that he is a good fighter, he manages to block one of Flynn's thrusts and dodge the other, but Flynn is fueled by fury and has a lifetime of fighting experience. He easily knocks aside Kovan's offense and sinks his knife deep into Kovan's chest. He wrenches it free and grabs me, pulling me toward the door. Together, we sprint away, running until we can no longer hear them behind us.
Chapter 12

When we stop, I am gasping for breath, clutching a stitch in my side. However, I am relieved to find that the pain in my ribs has been reduced to a dull throbbing instead of the stabbing sensation I had been suffering from previously. They are healing nicely. Perhaps the next time we are attacked I will actually be of some use. I turn to look at Flynn, trying to gage his expression, but his back is towards me as he rummages in the bushes. He unearths a black bag and pulls out a shirt, tossing it to me. "It won't be safe to wear Domus symbols after what happened," he tells me, his voice callous.

"Where are we?" I ask carefully.

"Back on Domus land, Landon and I stashed our supplies here before coming to rescue you." I can tell from his voice that he holds me responsible for Landon's death. I don't blame him.

"I never meant to run away. I was going after Kyla," a pleading note has crept into my voice.

"Whatever," He turns his back on me and walks away. I sink to the ground and rest my forehead on my knees. What have I done? If only I could have convinced Kyla not to go. If I had, both she and Landon would still be alive. I wipe a few stray tears from my eyes and steel my emotions, Murderers is no place to let sorrow take over. I hear the sound of running water and discover a stream nearby. I splash my face with the cool water, washing off most of the blood and dirt that had covered it.

Next, I pull on the new shirt; a plain black long sleeved one. I feel better after washing up and sit down on the river bank, letting the sound of flowing water relax me. I allow myself to sit for a few minutes before worrying about Flynn. I should really try to talk to him.

Flynn stands with his back towards me. He is holding two knives in one hand and one in the other. I watch as he sends his first knife spinning through the air, it gets a solid stick in a tree about twenty feet away. I notice that the bark on the tree is torn up; he's been doing this for a while.

"Flynn?" I call hesitantly. He doesn't answer, but throws the second knife, where it lands right above the first.

"I'm sorry about Landon, and I meant it when I said I never intended to run off."

The third knife joins the others and he goes to retrieve them. I can see his anger in the way he rips the knives free of the bark. He refuses to look at me even when he assumes his previous position, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the tree. I put my hand on his shoulder and force him to turn towards me. He stiffens but does not pull away. "Flynn, I really am sorry about what happened to Landon, and I know it is my fault, you should have just left me with them."

Flynn gives a short laugh, "Yes, I probably should have. Unfortunately I can't change that now." This stings a bit, hearing him agree with me, but I realize he just sacrificed his best friend for someone he barely knows.

"How long did you know Landon?" I ask.

"About five years," he replies shortly.

"What did... I mean what happened to get him sent here?" I know this isn't the best time to ask, but my curiosity gets the best of me.

Flynn gives me a hard look, as though debating whether or not to answer. Finally he says, "He shot his father when he was sixteen."

"What?" I gasp, unable to stop myself.

"His father was a drunk. He came home one night completely wasted and pulled a knife on Landon's five year old brother, so Landon shot him and got sent here."

Suddenly I feel disgusted by the justice system. I remember reading in History class that before the Islands system was developed; one could claim he or she was acting in self-defense or in the defense of a loved one. If that was found to be true, they often escaped punishment. But now, they don't care what your reasoning is. If you kill someone on Mainlands, they send you to the Islands. They don't care if the guy was holding a freaking gun to your grandmother's head; they'll ship you off to Murderers all the same.

The fury in Flynn's face has faded into sorrow, his brown eyes appearing almost black in the light. Now that he's started talking, it doesn't seem like he can stop.

"He originally joined up with the Petuo, I guess they were the first clan he met. Marek ordered a raid on a Petuo scout group that Landon was a part of. I realized he might be a good fighter so I let him live and brought him back with us. Marek was furious that I had left any survivors, but he soon recognized Landon's worth. We've been friends ever since." Flynn looks away; and I see that some of the anger has returned to his face, "I never should have let him come today. I was planning on going alone, but he insisted." He goes quiet and I can't bring myself to look at him, the guilt is still too strong.

"Thank you," I whisper, "Thank you for coming to rescue me. I know how much it cost you."

Flynn almost smiles, "I couldn't leave you in the hands of the Volis. I know how horrible they are."

"The Volis, so that's the clan that kidnapped me?"

Flynn nods, "They are almost as powerful as the Domus. Their leader, Cadoc isn't quite as brutal as Marek is, but his second in command, Kovan, almost is, was, I should say. You seemed to figure that out on your own." He reaches out and gently touches the cut on my face from Kovan's knife. The gesture surprises me greatly, and Flynn immediately lets his hand drop as though he surprised himself also. "We've just initiated a clan war though," he says regretfully, "One of those hasn't happened in years."

"What do you mean?" I ask in shock, "I thought you guys were always attacking each other."

Flynn gives a half shrug, "we can attack whoever we want so long as we don't touch base camp, it's an unwritten rule. One that we pretty much obliterated today. Once a clan attacks another's base, you've just declared war on them. I can only remember a few wars; all of them were very destructive.

"So what happens now?" I inquire.

"We stick to the original plan. I get you to the fence and you get me out of it. With any luck we can avoid the worst of the war, let Marek and the rest of the Domus deal with it." His voice sounds vaguely regretful and I wonder if he is thinking about the boy he left behind, his patrols partner, Heath.

"How long of a walk is it to the fence?" I ask mostly to break the silence.

He frowns, "usually it only takes a few days, but with your injury and also with the Domus and now the Volis after us, we'll have to take more precautions. I'd say a little over a week if everything goes according to plan."

I feel nervous about the prospect of spending another week on Murderers. I've only been here for six days and haven't fared very well.

"So if it's going to take us that long to cross the island, shouldn't we get as much walking done today as we can?" I'm eager for something to do other than think about the past couple of hours.

Flynn shakes his head. "The land ahead of us will be patrolled by the Domus until morning. We have to be careful to avoid the patrols at all costs, even if it means we will only get a few hours of traveling in a day." At that he turns back to face his target tree and I leave him with thoughts, returning to the river. I take off my socks and shoes and wade into the cool depths up to me knees. The water is so inviting that I strip down, leaving my clothes on the river bank, and submerge myself completely in the icy current. The water cools my aching muscles, leaving me feeling refreshed. I feel like I could stay here forever, but I know I am risking opening up my stomach cut to infection.

By some miracle my stitches have managed to stay intact during our escape so I should be safe from contamination, but I don't want to push my luck so I wade back over to the shore and pull on my clothes. I sit down on the grassy bank and allow my feet to dangle in the water. I close my eyes and imagine that I am back at Innocents, sneaking down to the coast with Sera and Livi. I am so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't notice Flynn until he sits down next to me.

I sneak a sidelong glance at him and can't help but notice how striking he is, his hair is shorter than anyone's I've seen on Murderers, and his cheekbones high. His eyes, which looked black just a little while ago, now appear golden. I remember what I had thought when he first appeared in my cell at the Volis base camp and quickly look away, embarrassed. Flynn doesn't seem to have noticed, he's too busy filling up his water bottle in the river. The bottle immediately invokes my curiosity. It's green and made out of a high quality stainless steel, not the standard issue we got at Innocents, and certainly not something they would hand out to Murderers.

"Where did that water bottle come from?" I question curiously.

To my surprise, Flynn grins at me. "The guards at Murderers aren't entirely incorruptible, you know."

"The guards gave you that?" I give a little laugh, remembering how the guard back at the guards island had eluded to bribery.

"Sure," Flynn replies, "They are always after information about the clans, especially Marek, and I have a wealth of that. Usually it's good for some food or basic supplies, but sometimes I can get a knife or two out of it."

This surprises me. Although I have no trouble believing that the Murderers guards would take bribes, it is somewhat troubling that they are willing to arm the inhabitants, especially one with as notorious of a reputation as Flynn's. We sit by the river until it grows dark and Flynn tells me we should find cover for the night.

Flynn's idea of "cover" is a patch of thick bushes that form a sort of canopy over our heads. Although I use Landon's backpack as a pillow, the ground is still cold and uncomfortable. I lay awake for half the night shivering in my thin shirt. Flynn seems to have no problem falling asleep. He lays a few yards away, completely oblivious to the cold. Perhaps it's one of the things you get used to when you live in an as unforgiving of a place as Murderers.

When dawn finally comes, I am stiff and miserable. My muscles protest when I stand up and my fingers are numb from the cold. I rub my hands together and work some life back into my frozen toes. Flynn is already up and seems amused by my pain. He tosses me a bag of dried fruit, which, in my sleep befuddled state, I fail to catch. That makes Flynn laugh and I feel blood rushes to my face. I was never much of a morning person to begin with, but after spending the night out in the open, I am a wreck. I retrieve the dried fruit and begin to eat as Flynn fills me in with the day's plans. Apparently we will have an hour's walk until we reach the point where we will cross into Volis territory. From there, we should be able to walk for a good four hours before risking meeting a patrol. Flynn is obviously avoiding the patrols for my sake, and I am thankful for that. I am not sure if I could take any more bloodshed.

After I finish eating, we begin the day's long trek. I start out strong, keeping pace with Flynn well enough. But after a few hours I begin to trail back, my ribs aching again, and Flynn repeatedly has to stop and wait for me. My foot catches a loose stone and I stumble forward a few steps, jarring my ribs. I manage to stifle my gasp of pain, but Flynn notices me wince."

"We can stop here for a few minutes." He sets his pack down on the ground.

"I'm fine, I can keep going," I try to protest, but Flynn shakes his head.

"If you keep going like this you are going to damage your ribs even more and we can't risk that."

I see his logic so I take a seat on a fallen log; Flynn takes his place next to me. I notice he is staring at the sky with some concern. I glance up; dark clouds are rolling in quickly, and I can hear the distant rumbling of thunder. Flynn allows me to rest for a few more minutes, keeping his eyes on the sky.

"We should get going," he says, finally, "I don't like the look of those clouds, and getting caught in a storm out here can be deadly." He offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. Our pace quickens as lightening dances across the sky and the crack of thunder resonates above us. Rain begins to fall, blurring my vision. The temperature is falling by the minute and despite the exertion of the walk, I start to shiver. Thunder crashes again, this time sounding much closer, followed by a strange thump like something heavy hitting the ground. Flynn stiffens and glances behind him.

"Brie, run! Now!" He shouts at me, his voice is tight with fear. I glance behind me and see the cause of his panic. A strange object has fallen to the ground behind us, creating a small crater.

"What is that?" I ask, freaked out by its sudden appearance. But one look at Flynn's panicked expression tells me that this isn't the time for questions and I start sprinting as hard as I can. We've only been running for about thirty seconds before a massive explosion rips through the forest. The force of it enough to knock me off my feet. The explosion sends down a rain of fire, igniting the dead brush and soon a deadly wall of flames is heading towards us.

Flynn puts his hand on my back forcing me forward and I run. Flynn stays a couple yards ahead of me and I watch his feet, stepping where he steps to avoid tripping. I am obviously slowing him down, but he stays with me. Smoke burns my eyes and the heat of the flames steals the air from my lungs. I allow myself to think just ten more feet until you can stop. The thought gives me strength even though there is no time to rest. Flynn turns sharply to the left. Where ever his destination is, if do not arrive soon, the fire will consume us. I am slowing down and even Flynn is gasping for breath. I have almost given up when I see our target. A wide river crosses our path a hundred yards ahead of us, broad enough to stop the fire's progress. Using my reserve strength, I make a last sprint and reach the bank of the river. We splash into the lifesaving water and swim to the other side. I collapse on the opposite bank coughing. Flynn splashes his face, rinsing out his eyes, and takes several gulps of water. This seems like a good idea so I copy him. The water cools my burning throat and eyes. The storm has relented, but the rain has started falling harder, helping to wash away the smell of smoke. I no longer have to wonder what the strange object that caused the fire was; it was obviously the same thing that caused the fire on Thieves all those days ago: an invention of the PSC created to kill off residents and make room for new ones.

"They always send them during a storm," Flynn says, confirming my theory. I guess that way they can make it seem like a lightning strike. "I've seen them before, but this was the closest I've even been to one." He continues.

"How often do they send them?" I ask, almost afraid to know the answer. I can't imagine living with that fear every time a storm comes.

Flynn shrugs as if it's no big deal, "A couple times a year." And I shake my head in dismay, life on Murderers is even worse than I could envision. How could anyone survive as long as Flynn has?

I would be content to stay here for the rest of the day, but Flynn stands up. "There is a chance that the fire may still make it past the river so I want to put some distance between us and it before we stop for the night. Though we can go a bit slower this time." He gives me a smile that makes my heart flutter and I shoulder my pack and follow him away from the river.
Chapter 13

We walk for several more hours until coming to a stop in a densely wooded section of the forest. The rain has cleared the last evidence of smoke out of the air, and I can almost forget about the roaring flames that nearly took our lives. I turn to Flynn, "Do you think the fire will cross the river?"

He considers this for a moment, "It's unlikely," he finally says, "fires happen here all the time and rarely do they make it across. This one will probably burn itself out by tomorrow, we should be safe." He falls silent for a while before adding, "The fire is actually a good thing for us, I think. It will delay the rest of the Domus." I nod in relief and slide to the ground. I check on the cut on my stomach to make sure I didn't rip any stitches during our flight. The stitches are still holding strong and the cut looks much improved and is no longer painful to the touch.

"Those are probably ready to come out," Flynn remarks and I wince at the prospect, it seems like taking them out would hurt. Flynn takes out his knife and I stiffen automatically and hold my breath as the blade approaches my skin. Flynn smiles at me apologetically as he carefully severs the knots holding the stitches in and pulls the strings out. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it's not a pleasant feeling either, like something's crawling in my skin. I let my breath out in a hiss as the final thread comes free. Warmth courses through me as Flynn's hand brushes my bare skin and I blush automatically. I look down at the cut to hide my face. Without the stitches, the once life threatening injury now is just a jagged scar.

Flynn tells me that I should rest and recover my strength for tomorrow, but after half an hour of sitting I grow restless and take out my knife. "I'm going to go practice," I call to Flynn.

He hesitates, "Just be careful, we are in Volis territory now and I don't want to attempt another rescue mission anytime soon.

It feels great to practice again. At first, my movements are stiff and awkward, my sore muscles limiting my range of motion. But soon I start to feel loose and my strikes become more precise. I have just completed my warm up routine when I notice Flynn standing behind me. His expression is unreadable.

"What?" I demand.

"Nothing," he says quickly, "It's just that you're good but..." He gives me an apologetic smile, "you have no technique."

I try to hide my embarrassment; I am used to my instructors gloating about how talented I am.

"I mean you are quick and unpredictable, and have obvious natural talent" he adds hurriedly, "but if you ever get into a duel with an experienced fighter, those things will always fail you. You lack finesse." Flynn walks over to me, "Show me what you were doing before." Self-consciously, I start my routine over again. "Okay, stop," Flynn commands, "First of all, your grip is wrong for that kind of knife."

I look down at my hand. I am holding the knife as I always do, the handle held firmly between my thumb and forefinger with my other fingers supporting.

"That grip would be fine with a smaller knife, but with a larger one, your hand is too exposed to your opponent," he explains. "Here, let me help." He takes my hand in his and positions my fingers so that my thumb is on top of the handle and the rest of my fingers form a fist around it. "This will help prevent you from losing your grip on the blade. It also provides for greater power and allows you to use the other end as a weapon as well."

I nod and try a few thrusts. The new hold feels strange. It will take some time getting used to.

"Let's start again," Flynn tells me. But he stops me as soon as I take my start up position.

He looks like he is close to laughter, "Did they teach you anything about footwork back on Innocents?"

I know Flynn is trying to be helpful, but I can't help but feel slightly offended. Before meeting him, I had considered myself to be a perfectly good knife fighter. But Flynn looks like he is enjoying himself so thoroughly bossing me around that I can't help but laugh. "What do you mean? Of course they talked about footwork in training."

Flynn shakes his head in amazement, "Your instructors must have been terrible then. It looks like I will have to take you back to basics."

His first order of business is correcting my "stance", or the position I will start a fight in. He has me stand with my right leg forward and my left one to the side and back, my body tilted slightly ahead. Like the new grip, this feels entirely different and at first I am off balance.

"Since you aren't particularly strong, this stance will allow you to move quickly to compensate." Flynn explains.

For the next hour, Flynn shows me a variety of different training exercises, most of them helping improve my balance and footwork. By the end of the session, I am exhausted and Flynn seems happier than I've ever seen him. He seems to come alive when he handles the blade, as though during a fight he can set aside his personal demons and devote all of his concentration to the task at hand.

The next day, I pass the journey by practicing with my knife. Flynn occasionally stops me to correct something, but for the most part we walk in silence. My shoulders are sore from last night's training, but I continue to practice, determined to master the skills Flynn has taught me. Around noon, we stop for a rest. Despite the chilly air, I am sweating and my throat is parched with thirst. I wander off a little ways looking for water. The bugs are bad here so I know I must be close. Soon, I stumble upon a small pond. The water is crystal clear, with no signs of plant or animal life in its depths. I am about to take a drink when I hear Flynn's voice behind me.

"Brie, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting a drink," I tell him, even though it seems obvious to me.

He looks concerned, "That water is poisoned. Did you already drink any?"

I shake my head.

"Good," Flynn says, "Now that we have left Domus territory, we must only drink out of the rivers, or anything that has a swift current."

This confuses me, we had drank out of lakes and ponds before and Flynn never said anything. I take a step away from the water. "How do you know it's poisoned?"

"I know because I was one of the people who poisoned it. Marek ordered it. He figures if the Volis don't have access to clean water, they will have to cross over into our territory, making it easier for us to attack them. But that doesn't matter, just don't wander off again," he says angrily, "stay in my sight at all times."

This annoys me that he is suddenly acting like I am completely incompetent, "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," I snap at him.

"You've proved that. Just think about how long you would have lasted without my help. You would have died your first day here, so don't blame me if I question your capability." His voice unexpectedly is scornful.

I feel my temper rising, mostly because I know what he said is true. I push the thought aside. "You're right. I'm sorry I can't commit cold blooded murder quite as easily as you can, Domus." It is a low blow, but right now I am too upset to care.

His eyes flash dangerously and for a moment I am afraid that I went too far.

"Cold blooded murder? Is that what you call it? See, others would generally call it 'rescuing you' or 'saving your life'. But whatever works for you, Innocent. Now come on, if we stay here much longer the Volis will find us. We wouldn't want them to kidnap you again, because you would have a hard time escaping by yourself, now that you don't need my help anymore."

I know that I should apologize, but frankly, I am sick of seeking forgiveness for everything I say, and Flynn's words were just as harsh as mine.

We continue walking in stony silence. Eventually I take out my knife and start practicing again. This time, Flynn doesn't say anything even when I make an obvious mistake. Maybe he really meant it when he said he was done helping me. I start to feel regretful about our argument. After all, Flynn had just saved my life and I had thanked him with insults. Not that he wasn't asking for it, a part of me that is still angry argues. I ignore the thought and decide that I will make things right with Flynn when we stop for the day, once he has had a chance to settle down. The anger in his eyes still scares me, but what really bothers me is that he finds me incapable.

Our stopping point for the day is on the bank of a small creek. Flynn drops his pack and sits on a fallen log, moodily carving designs into the bark with his knife. I approach him and he looks up when he sees me. "Flynn, about what I said earlier..." I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter. Let's just try to make it to the fence without killing each other."

I shake my head "I didn't mean what I said back there. You did what you had to do in order to rescue me and stay alive. I guess I was just angry."

Flynn gives a small smile, "I know, and trust me, I understand how that goes. I'm surprised Landon never killed me, with all the stuff I used to yell at him when we got into an argument. You have to admit though; I do have a point about you. You have a talent for getting yourself into the worst situations and aren't so good at getting yourself out."

He must see the indignant expression on my face because he laughs and adds, "You're tough though, and smart. I doubt any other Innocent could have made it out here as long as you. I guess today I was just afraid that out of all the ways to die out here, you would die because of something I did."

We sit in silence for a while before I finally get up the courage to ask about something I had been curious about for a while. "Flynn, what was it like growing up on Murderers, getting raised by Marek?"

He gives a hollow laugh, "Oh you know, just like a typical happy childhood."

"Where was your father? I mean is Marek...?" I trail off awkwardly.

"Is Marek my father? No, well, at least probably not." The idea seems to amuse Flynn, "My mother was killed before she actually told anyone who he was. And since nobody stepped up to claim me, I got stuck with Marek. He seemed to see wisdom in raising somebody he could ensure was completely loyal to him, or so he thought. But he wasn't exactly a loving father figure, and threatening a four year old with a knife is not a great way to build trust and loyalty. But he trained me well enough and I owe my survival to him, in a twisted sense anyway.

My earliest memory is my first training session with him. I was probably only three then, but I remember wanting to impress Marek. Actually I am surprised I managed not to kill myself accidentally. See, Marek doesn't believe in practicing with fake knives, and a clumsy three years old with a sharp knife doesn't always end well."

He shrugs and although his voice remains calm, his eyes, once again, betray his anger.

"I went on my first mission when I was nine. When I was ten, I decided to disobey one of Marek's orders. And that's when I got this."

He lifts up his shirt to reveal a long scar, stretching from his right shoulder to his opposite hip. Without thinking, I reach up and trace the mark with my fingers. Flynn tenses at first but then relaxes. He sets his hand on mine and we sit in silence for a second. My heart is pounding so loudly, I am concerned that Flynn can hear it.

"How did it happen?" I whisper. Flynn allows my hand to drop away, but holds my gaze for a few seconds longer before answering. "I was out training with Marek and we came across three of the Unaffiliated. People who don't belong to any clan," he explains in answer to my questioning look. "He ordered me to kill them, saying it was a way to prove myself, and I refused. He was furious and said either I could kill them or he would do it for me. I still wouldn't so he made me watch and he cut their throats. Once the last one bled out, he turned his knife on me. After he cut me, he turned around and left, saying if I couldn't survive the walk back I wasn't worthy to live, and if I could, then he would forgive my disobedience. I learned my lesson after that; I never questioned anything Marek said again, at least not out loud. It got better once Landon came, gave me someone I could trust to vent to, share some of my fury."

"And before Landon? You really didn't have anyone you could trust?" I can't imagine a world that lonely.

Flynn scoffs at the idea, "Marek made sure everyone was terrified of me, and the few true friends I had didn't last long. They all vanished _mysteriously._ Marek feared that I would become more loyal to them than I was to him. If Landon had been any less skillful at medicine and fighting, I am sure he would have vanished as well."

I am not sure how to react. I don't want to seem indifferent if I stay quiet, but I also don't want to appear pitying. Luckily Flynn doesn't give me long to think about this. "So what about you, Brie? How did you end up on Murderers? I have a hard time believing that you would volunteer for something like this."

I just laugh, "I punched the wrong person."

This sparks Flynn's curiosity. "Who did you punch?"

"Oh, just the President of the PSC's son."

Flynn seems entertained by the thought. "What?" I demand.

"Nothing, just the idea of you punching anyone is pretty ridiculous."

"What's so ridiculous about it?" I'm getting a little annoyed again, and Flynn seems to sense it.

"Sorry, I'm just so used to seeing you with a knife; I can't imagine you fighting any other way. Why did you punch him anyway?"

"I was defending a friend," I say, much happier now that I know Flynn isn't mocking me.
Chapter 14

That night I have a hard time falling asleep. The temperature is freezing, the coldest it has been since I arrived on Murderers. I lie curled up in a ball, hugging myself, trying to conserve as much warmth as possible. Violent shivers prevent me from relaxing. Finally, I admit defeat and get up to walk around, forcing blood back into my numb limbs. I pace around the small clearing in which we have set up camp. The night is clear and peaceful and the stars are brilliant.

On Innocents, the security flood lights usually block out the stars, but here there are thousands of the cold white lights, contrasting against the inky blackness of the sky. I stare up at them until the shivers find me again and I am forced to continue pacing. Despite my attempts to be quiet, my foot snaps a twig. Flynn bolts up cursing, knife in hand. He must sleep with it on him. When he sees that it's just me, he visibly relaxes and lowers his knife. "God, Brie, what are you doing up? I thought we were being attacked."

"Couldn't sleep...Because of the cold." I say before he can ask, "I should ask how you manage it. You don't even seem to notice the temperature."

Flynn gives me a lazy smile, "When you have lived through enough winters here, you develop a high tolerance for cold. I had forgotten you weren't used to it. Come here." He pats the ground next to him. I hesitantly lie down and he puts an arm around me, pulling me close. Flynn closes his eyes again and seems to fall asleep immediately. However, I lay awake, his proximity causing nervous energy to course through my veins. I can feel his even breath on the back of my neck. Forget about the cold, now adrenalin will keep me awake. Eventually I manage to relax and sink into a deep sleep, Flynn's arms protecting me against the night.

When I wake up, the sun is already high in the sky. Flynn's arm is still wrapped around me, our bodies separated by a few inches. I am glad that Flynn is still asleep so he won't see the blush that has crept onto my face. I sit up and Flynn's arm falls away causing him to jolt awake. For a second he just stares at me as though wondering what I am doing here. Then he catches sight of the sun and jumps to his feet, cursing. "It's already almost ten o'clock. We should have started walking hours ago." He tells me, "Now our chances of meeting a patrol has greatly increased." He grabs his pack and sets off at a brisk walk. I am startled by the abrupt departure but I hoist my rucksack onto my back and continue on after Flynn.

The terrain is becoming more demanding as we travel farther across the island. The flat forests that I had grown accustomed to have been replaced by steep hills and jagged rocks, the leaves on the trees replaced with needles. The new landscape has an unforgiving feel, as though there is danger, whether human or natural, waiting around every corner. I stick close to Flynn, feeling slightly embarrassed by my anxiety. As usual, Flynn seems perfectly at ease in his surroundings, and while I am jumping at every sound, Flynn's gate is relaxed.

After a few hours of travel, Flynn picks up a thick branch and begins to carve it with his knife as we walk. Curious, I try and guess what he is making. Finally I give up, "What are you making?" I ask. Flynn's eyes don't leave his work, "I'm carving us some practice knives. There is only so much you can learn about knife fighting without sparring with someone and using real knives would probably end up with one of us dead."

"That one of us probably being me," I admit.

He smiles, "I wasn't going to say it. Although I know that I am skilled enough not to kill you accidentally."

"Wow, arrogant much?"

"Maybe, but not without reason. You have to admit that."

I shake my head and give a small laugh, "I guess. But you know narcissism isn't a particularly becoming quality. You could at least pretend you don't know how awesome you are."

He shoots me another crooked smile, "So you admit that I am awesome?"

I make an exasperated noise, "That wasn't exactly the point I was trying to make." Flynn just laughs and turns his eyes back to his work. It strikes me that this was one of the first normal conversations we have ever had. One that wasn't centered on survival or our depressing pasts. It reminds me of being around my friends back on Innocents.

As the day wears on, Flynn starts getting more nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder. He has stowed away his completed practice knives and has his real one held at ready. Once, he stops so suddenly I almost run into him. "What's wrong?" I ask quietly, scanning the rocky terrain around us. Flynn doesn't answer for a long time, until finally he says, "We are being followed. I think they've been tracking us for about an hour now."

"And you wait until now to tell me this?" I hiss angrily taking out my knife.

"I wasn't sure until just a minute ago, now I know." Flynn replies as he starts walking again.

"Well, you could have at least warned me, that way I might actually be ready in case of an attack. And what are we going to do now? Will we fight them?"

Flynn's voice remains calm and carefully controlled, "I didn't warn you because I knew as soon as I did you would tense up. And I can guarantee you that whoever is following us is carefully watching to see if we know about them so I waited as long as I could before telling you. Just try to remain calm and act as naturally as you can."

"But what are we going to do?" I demand, "They are bound to attack us sooner or later."

Flynn gives a grim smile, "Not if we attack first and catch them by surprise. Now we just need to wait for one of them to make another noise and give away their location."

"Why haven't they attacked yet? Whoever is following us could have taken us down anytime in the last hour." I try to adopt Flynn's casual tone.

"We are in Endrone territory now, and the Endrone are smart. They won't attack until they are absolutely sure they can defeat us. This means that we are probably headed toward an ambush."

"And you are okay with that?" My calm demeanor slips slightly.

"As I said, we will attack them before it gets that far."

We walk in silence for a few more minutes until I hear a faint rustle. Flynn grins, "Ready?" He asks. I nod and without hesitation, Flynn sprints through the trees in the direction of the noise. I follow close behind. I hear a shout and a group of Murderers materialize from their hiding spots to meet us head on. Flynn closes the distance between us and them in two strides, his knife in attack position and I follow suit. However, before either of us can attack, gray figures emerge from the trees on all sides. We are completely surrounded. Before I can react, someone steps forward from the circle and grabs me, holding a knife to my neck. I freeze, the cold blade sending chills down my spine. Flynn steps toward me, knife raised, as if planning on taking on the entire group by himself. As he takes another step forward a woman's voice sounds from the back of the circle.

"Take another step and she dies before your knife can meet its mark."

Flynn hesitates but does not lower his knife. I can almost see his mind spinning, calculating the speed his knife must fly in order to catch my captor before he can react and kill me. Before he can make his move, the woman speaks again, "Your talents are well known here, but I doubt even you, Domus, can hope to attack us and make it out with both of your lives. Now drop your knife or she dies." I struggle against the arms restraining me and the Murderer digs the tip of his knife a little deeper into my neck, drawing blood. Slowly, Flynn lowers his knife and lets it fall to the ground. As soon as he does, three figures spring forward, two of them grab Flynn's arms and the other snatches the knife away. He then pats Flynn down and removes the other knives he had hidden. Once the man is satisfied that Flynn is unarmed he nods and the woman steps forward into the center of the circle. Her face appears young, but her long hair is as gray as her clothes. Flynn glares at her, "Salina. I should have expected to see you here."

She appraises us coldly, "Yes. You should have," she says simply. When she turns to Flynn she almost looks disappointed. She approaches him and stops only a foot away. "This was easier than I expected it to be. When our scouts reported that a known Domus had crossed into our territory, none other than Marek's personal guard, the legendary Flynn, I had expected, hoped even, that it would be a challenge to capture him. It seems that I overestimated you. You reacted exactly how I expected you to. Although, it took you much longer than I expected. We purposefully allowed you to hear us several times earlier. We had almost given up before you attacked." Flynn doesn't respond. He coldly meets Salina's eyes. Salina continues, "Fighters are always so predictable, they never avoid initiating a struggle. I had hopes that you would be different, but I should have known better, being that you were raised by Marek. You two are so much alike, do you know that?" Flynn tenses and I can tell he is clenching his teeth. I wonder if Salina is purposefully goading him, trying to get him to fight. "I suppose you did simplify things by being so easy to catch, and by bringing a...friend... along."

"Why don't you just kill me and get this over with," Flynn cuts her off. Swiftly, Salina draws her own knife and presses it against Flynn's throat. "If you interrupt me again, I will be only too happy to oblige you. But if you decide to cooperate, then I have no intention of killing either of you and you may just make it out of here alive."

I can see the distrust in Flynn's eyes, "What do you need my cooperation for?" Salina gives an eerie smile, "you are going to lead a raid on the Domus."

A half hour later, I am sitting in a cell not unlike the one at the Volis base camp. The word déjà vu briefly flits through my mind. They have taken Flynn into a separate room to give him an in-depth description of their demands, so I sit against the cold wall and await his return. I must have eventually fallen asleep because the sound of my door opening wakes me. Two guards escort Flynn inside and slam the door shut behind him. I jump to my feet, desperate for news. "What do they want? Are they going to kill us or just keep us here?"

Flynn looks anxious. "The deal is that if I manage to lead a successful raid on Domus, they will release both of us unharmed once I get back. I am scheduled to leave tonight and you will stay here. They promised that you would be safe while I am gone."

I don't like the idea of sitting here waiting out the danger, but I know that I would be a liability on the raid so I restrain myself from complaining. "Why do they want to raid the Domus?" I ask instead.

Flynn sighs, "From what they have told me, these past couple of years have been rough. The raids from the Domus and Volis have left them desperate for food. The Endrone is one of the only clans that resembles a functional society, but without food, that will disintegrate. If the clan dissolves, so does Salina's power, and she is desperate not to let that happen. Salina wouldn't be able to survive one minute without power."

"So you know Salina?"

Flynn gives a humorless laugh, "She used to be a member of Domus. She and Marek were together, I guess that kind of makes her something like my step-mother. But she left suddenly when I was three and formed her own clan. Marek has hated her ever since."

I consider this. How could anyone just abandon a three year old that she helped raise. But I guess you don't get sent to Murderers for being kind and selfless. I hate Salina even more for it.

Since there is no clock, I not sure what time it is or even how close evening is. I pass the time by making designs with the condensation that has formed on the metal walls. Flynn sits on the opposite side of the room, staring at the floor. My fingers are tracing a swirling pattern when he speaks. "Brie, it's almost time for me to go." I want to ask him how he knows this but decide that it isn't the time. I remain quiet and let him continue. "When I leave, there is a good chance I won't make it back alive. If that happens, I am sure Salina will give you the choice to join the Endrone. You must accept the offer and then at the first opportunity you get, run away. Head east as fast as you can, but only travel after midnight and stop once the sun rises. This should help you avoid any patrols. Within a few days you should make it to the fence and then you will be free to go." He reaches over and grabs my hand, gripping it firmly, "But listen to me Brie, you cannot trust Salina. She will try to trick and brainwash you in any way she can so get out of here fast. Otherwise you will be stuck here for life."

I nod, "I understand, but you will make it back here. And don't worry about me, I'll be fine, and so will you."

Flynn doesn't look convinced, but he takes a seat next to me, our hands remain joined. We sit this way until I hear the jingle of keys outside the door. Flynn leans in toward me as the door opens. "Remember what I told you," he tells me quietly so only I can hear, "Don't trust Salina and get out of here as soon as possible." Then he bridges the few inches between us and his lips brush mine quickly before he pulls away and follows the guard out of the cell. I am left sitting alone wondering if I will ever see Flynn again.
Chapter 15

I barely get any sleep that night. I lay awake trying not to worry about Flynn and attempting to ignore the hunger gnawing at my stomach, the Endrone seem to think it is a waste of resources to feed prisoners. The hours drag on until finally my cell door opens. I am surprised when it is Salina who enters. She is holding a tray of food and I sit up quickly. "Don't get up," she orders sharply as I make to get to my feet. I sit back down and Salina begins to pace back and forth in front of me. She doesn't offer me the food.

Finally she speaks again, "I find you very intriguing. I am usually very good at reading people, but you are something of a mystery to me. What does it take for Flynn to care about someone like he does for you? I assume that you are the one that Flynn went to great lengths to rescue from the Volis. Yes," she says seeing the surprise on my face, "Flynn's stunt at the Volis base camp is well known here and ever since that, I have been eager to meet you. I want to know what makes you so special."

"Usually I would recommend asking Flynn that," I reply angrily, "but seeing as you may have sent him to his death I guess you will just have to live without knowing."

Salina smiles as though pleased, "My other question was how you could have survived living as a Domus if Flynn really does care about you, usually Marek kills people like that, but you just answered that question yourself."

This confuses me which causes Salina's smile to widen, "Your accent isn't that of a Domus and it also suggests that you haven't been on Murderers for very long. So that just leaves the question of where did you come from."

I don't answer, unwilling to give away any information about myself.

"Did you get reassigned here from another island? I definitely recognize that accent from somewhere." Salina continues to muse to herself. She stares down at me and suddenly her smile grows even wider. "No, didn't come from another island, I can see it in your eyes. There is something too _innocent_ about them. I know where I have heard that accent; it is the same one Marek had when I first met him, which means you are from Innocents."

I don't bother to deny this. Instead I just shrug, "I guess I am not that much of a mystery after all."

"Perhaps not," Salina replies, "but you just became a lot more valuable to me."

"The guards are not going to bargain for me," I protest, "I am considered disposable to Innocents." Salina continues to smile, "I have no intention on negotiating with the guards. Your value comes in the information you know about them."

I shake my head, "I'm not going to tell you anything. And we have a deal; Flynn is leading the raid so you cannot harm me." I am willing to help Flynn escape, but I won't be responsible for a mass attack on the fence. Besides, it was not Flynn's choice to live on Murderers, but Salina and her clan were sent here for a good reason.

When Salina speaks next, her voice has taken on a dangerous sweetness, "You may have noticed that Flynn is not here, which means I can do whatever I like. I will be back for you in a while." She leaves the room, taking the tray of food with her. Frustrated, I get up and kick the door. Far from making me feel better, this simply adds pain in my toe to deal with. I close my eyes and try to relax. I make up my mind that I will not tell them anything, no matter what horrible stuff they do to me. If they breach the fence, it would put my friends on Innocents in danger, and I couldn't live with that on my conscience.

After what I estimate is about ten minutes, the door opens again. This time it is two tall Murderers who enter. They each grab one of my arms and steer me out of my cell and down a hallway. "Where are we going?" I demand. They ignore me and continue walking until we reach a room at the end of the hallway. Apart from a crudely crafted chair, the room is empty. One of the guards forces me into the chair. He roughly secures my hands to the chair with a length of rope and then they both exit, leaving me alone.

Hours later, I am still sitting in the room. No one has come to see me after the guards. Fear and adrenalin have allowed me to ignore my hunger temporarily, but my throat burns with thirst. Eventually, the adrenalin fades from my system and the pangs on hunger return. It still bothers me that I don't know what time or even day it is. I am beginning to think that they have left me here to die when the door opens. Salina enters followed by a boy. He looks young, probably around fourteen. His blonde hair looks almost white in the dark room and his grey eyes are cold. Salina notices me watching him and smiles.

"This is my son, Reigyn. I would introduce you to him, but seeing as I don't know your name that would be difficult. I suppose your name should be my first question."

I do not see what good it would do to stay silent so I answer. "Brie Vanguard."

"Interesting." Salina seems to thrive on information; I can tell she has a thirst for knowledge, whether the knowledge is relevant or not. "Brie, is that short for anything?"

"No, it's just Brie."

Reigyn interrupts impatiently, "Is this relevant, Salina? Or can I continue on with the questioning. I don't see her name helping us very much."

"Of course," Salina answers, turning to leave, "Find me again once you have the information."

Reigyn studies me with a bored expression, "My mother always has been a fool when it comes to people. She sees them as a puzzle that she has to complete. It wastes time, but luckily she is letting me handle this on my own."

Lucky for whom? I wonder. I have a feeling I would much rather play twenty questions with Salina then go through whatever Reigyn has in store for me. "Hungry?" Reigyn asks. He takes out an apple and holds it in front of my face, "Food for answers. How does that sound?"

"No deal," I say darkly.

"Too bad, I find it difficult to concentrate when I am hungry." Reigyn takes a bite of the apple. The sweet smell makes my stomach ache but I hold my resolve.

Reigyn takes another bite, "You can go a long time without food, but only a few days without water. Are you sure you don't want to talk? You know you will one way or the other, and this way you can save yourself a lot of unnecessary pain."

"I won't tell you anything that will help Murderers escape."

"That's hardly fair to assume," Reigyn says in a mockingly offended voice, "I was born here just like that guy you came with, Flynn, or whatever his name is. And you seem perfectly willing to help him."

"Flynn doesn't torture people for information, as I assume you are going to do." I say sharply.

Reigyn raises an eyebrow, "I hate to break this to you, but Flynn has done much worse than withholding food from somebody. He may not have been born a murderer, but he has become one."

"Flynn does what he has to do in order to survive, and he doesn't revel in violence as you seem to."

Reigyn seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself with the conversation, "And you are okay with Flynn killing others just to keep himself alive. That seems a little selfish in my opinion. And yet you think that he is nobler than me simply because he doesn't _enjoy_ it. And what if I tell you that I have never killed anyone before? Do you still think Flynn is a better person?"

"Flynn was born into different circumstances than you. It doesn't make you superior." I snap, sick of his mocking tone.

"Ah," Reigyn says with a grin, "But you seem to think you are superior to me simply because you managed to be born in the right place. I am sensing some hypocrisy here."

I have to admit that Reigyn has made a good point, but I'm not going to say this out loud. And no matter what he thinks, even if I were in Reigyn's position, I would never be so gleeful about the situation. "If you are planning on annoying me until I give you answers, I will tell you right now that it won't work."

"Do you find the truth annoying?" Reigyn asks innocently and I ignore him. "Fine," Reigyn says his voice sharper than before, "If you are tired of our conversation about right versus wrong than we can get down to business. My first question is how far away are the guards islands and how many guards reside there?" I glare pointedly at him, refusing to answer.

"I am only going to ask you this once, are you planning on cooperating with me, or do you intend to make things difficult?"

"I have no intention on answering any of your questions." I tell him sharply.

"Fine, your funeral." He takes out his knife, "There's still time to change your mind."

I clench my hands on the chair to keep them from shaking and meet Reigyn's eyes defiantly. To my surprise, he lowers his knife and grins.

"Relax; my orders are only to withhold food until you talk. My mother may be cruel, but she would never authorize torturing a prisoner, especially one that she promised to protect. Her word actually means something to her."

"She didn't seem worried about that earlier," I say suspiciously.

Reigyn laughs, "That was scare tactics, as is this," he waves his knife.

"And why are you telling me this? Scare tactics seem a bit pointless if I know it's an empty threat."

"Well unless you are a complete idiot, which you may be, pretty soon you would have realized it on your own. We save a little time this way. Anyway, unless you want to starve to death, you will answer my questions."

"And what about when Flynn comes back?" I demand, "Are you just going to ignore the deal."

Reigyn leans casually against the wall, and scratches his brow with the tip of his knife, "The deal's only good if Flynn actually comes back alive. And just between you and me, the chances of that happening are pretty slim. If he does manage to survive, I am sure we can manage to restrain him until you cooperate with us. Don't worry about that."

"You are going to be waiting a while," I tell him, "because I make a point of not cooperating with Murderers."

"Don't worry, Brie. I have all the time in the world." Reigyn replies. With that, he turns and heads out the door.

One of my teachers back on Innocents had taught us that if you go without food for long enough, the pains of hunger will eventually fade. While this may be accurate about hunger, it is in no way true about thirst. My throat feels as dry and scratchy as sand paper and I find myself fantasizing about cold water and the sweet fizzy drinks we occasionally had on Innocents. I start to feel weak, light headed, and feverish. I alternate between deep chills and overwhelming heat. Seconds drag into minutes, which drag into hours and pretty soon I stop trying to keep track of the time and succumb to fatigue. My wrists are chafed from where to rope has dug in, but I have long since stopped noticing the aching pain. Reigyn comes to visit every so often, always bringing a tray of food and bottle of water, telling me that once I talk I can eat. I refuse every time. The food is easy to decline; I have long since stopped feeling hungry. But saying no to the water is one of the hardest things I have ever done.

Reigyn enters my cell again and lays a tray of food on the floor before sitting next to it. He seems unnaturally glib today. "Congratulations, you've made it over seventy two hours without water, any longer than that and you risk doing major damage. Is protecting the PSC really worth it?" I wince at the loudness of his voice as it aggravates the throbbing in my head.

Reigyn notices, "How's the headache treating you? It's a classic symptom of dehydration. You also have increased body temperature, body aches and hallucinations to look forward to. Are you sure you don't want to talk?"

I shake my head, knowing that if I attempt to speak, it would come out as a croak. Reigyn is about to say something when the door opens and Salina steps in. "Untie her and prepare her to leave," Salina commands.

Reigyn gapes at her, "But she hasn't given us any useful information. We can't just let her go."

Salina gives him a stern look, "You will not question my authority," she snaps, "There has been a change of plans. Now I am telling you to release her!"

Grumbling, Reigyn takes out his knife and cuts the ropes binding my hands. My attempt to stand up sends the room spinning and Salina gives me a look of disgust. She calls for two guards and they roughly help me to my feet.

"Here, take this," Salina forces the water bottle and an apple into my hands. I eagerly drain the water bottle, but after a small bite of the apple I feel nauseous. Salina impatiently hands me some more water and I once I have finished that as well she turns to my guards. "Now follow me, and make sure she doesn't pass out."

Our process is slow and tedious. The guards impatiently pull me along and I stumble and nearly fall multiple times before they realize they have to slow down. Finally we arrive at the entrance and the guards throw open the door. After several days in a dark, windowless room, the sunlight is nearly blinding. I shield my eyes from the sun and can just make out a dark figure rushing towards me. The two guards release me and shove me forward. I stumble, but someone catches me before I can fall.

"Brie!" I recognize his voice, it is Flynn. He furiously turns toward Salina, "What the hell did you do to her?" He yells.

Salina's voice remains cool, "We did nothing that she won't recover from. Just be thankful that you are both making it out of here alive."

"Thankful?" Hisses Flynn, "I thought we had a deal that you wouldn't harm her." He starts toward her and the guards jump toward Flynn, ready to defend their leader.

"Flynn, stop." I croak. He turns towards me, his dark eyes full of anger and concern. "Let it go," I tell him, "It isn't worth getting killed for."

Flynn takes a step back and the guards relax. "All right, give us our packs and we will go."

Salina studies Flynn before saying, "The return of your supplies was never part of the deal."

I weakly grab Flynn's arm to stop him from lunging at Salina. When he speaks next, his voice is shaking with contained anger, "At least give us back our weapons."

"Not a chance," Salina says evenly.

"If you send us out there unarmed, you might as well just kill us right now," Flynn argues.

Salina considers this before giving in. She turns to one of the guards, "Byron, go get the prisoners' packs." He leaves and returns a few minutes later holding our equipment. Byron rummages through the bags until he has retrieved our knives. He hands the weapons over to Salina who inspects them before giving them to Flynn.

"Give us the wooden ones too," Flynn commands. Salina's eyes flash, I can tell that she does not appreciate being ordered around, but finally she relents and hands over the two practice knives. Flynn then turns his attention back to me. "Can you walk?" he asks.

"I think so. I just need a little help," I reply weakly. Flynn pulls my arm over his shoulder, supporting most of my weight. In this way, we head away from the Endrone and back into the forests of Murderers.

After we have put a safe distance between us and Salina, I allow myself to relax. I take time to study Flynn. He looks exhausted and strained. A bruise darkens one of his eyes, but otherwise the raid on Domus has left him unharmed. "How did you convince Salina to let us go?" I ask quietly.

Flynn readjusts my arm over his shoulder. "I can be very persuasive," he says darkly.

When it becomes apparent that I can no longer go any farther, Flynn allows us to stop close to the bank of a shallow creek. I scoop handfuls of the cold water to my lips, trying to undo the damage of the last few days. However, although the burning in my throat is gone, the fatigue and aches still remain. I lay down on my back, doubting I have the energy to make the short walk back to our camp. I sit up as I see Flynn approaching. "You look horrible," Flynn tells me.

"Oh, great. Thanks for letting me know," I say giving him my best attempt at a glare.

"I meant that you look really sick." Flynn looks genuinely concerned. He gently checks my forehand before pulling hand away swearing. "You're practically burning up. What happened while I was gone?"

I sigh, "Salina guessed that I was from Innocents and wanted information about the guards. They decided to deny me food or water until I gave it to them and I never did."

"We need to get you some food."

"But the Endrone took our packs, and besides, I don't even feel hungry," I protest.

Flynn manages a smile, "Do you think I would have survived this long if I didn't know how to find food for myself? And even though you may not think you need it, you need to eat something to restore some of your energy. "

I am too tired to argue so I allow Flynn to help me to my feet. My dizziness returns and I would have fallen if Flynn hadn't have steadied me. His next move surprises me; he scoops me up and carries me over to our camp before setting me gently down on the ground. He hands me one of the knives, "Just in case," he says as he slips it into my hand, "but I will be nearby. If anything happens, yell, and I will come. Now try to sleep, I'll wake you when it is time to eat."
Chapter 16

I do fall asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness, getting up only long enough to eat and drink. When I finally wake up for good, Flynn is standing nearby practicing his knife throwing. My legs are stiff from sleeping for so long and I still feel weak, but otherwise my dehydration symptoms are practically gone. From the lighting, I can tell that it is late afternoon, but I am unsure how many days have passed since the Endrone let me go. When Flynn sees me, he stops his practice and comes over.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Pretty good," I answer, "How long have I been out? I really don't remember much since we left Endrone and I first fell asleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off for about a day and a half," he explains. He slides me a handful of strange nuts and berries, "Here, eat these. You haven't had anything since yesterday so I assume you are starving." I actually am hungry, so I accept the food. The berries are bitter and the nuts rather tasteless but I manage to choke them down and feel better afterward. When I am finished, I head over to the stream and take a long drink and splash my face. I turn around to see Flynn waiting for me, his knife already in hand. "Do you feel well enough to travel?" He asks.

This surprises me; usually we are careful to avoid traveling at this time of day, "Won't we risk meeting up with a patrol?"

"No," Flynn replies, "We have crossed into no man's land which is inhabited by the Unaffiliated. And they usually avoid traveling by daylight. We should be able to get a few hours of walking in before dark."

That evening, we take cover in an abandoned wooden shelter. The ceiling is low and the inside is damp and musty. Still, it is better than sleeping out in the open. "Are you sure no one lives here?" I ask nervously.

Flynn nods, "I've stayed here several times before and nobody has ever bothered me."

I hope that isn't going to change today.

For dinner, we eat a few more of the berries that Flynn scavenged. As we eat, I notice that Flynn and I are sitting unnecessarily close to each other, our arms brushing whenever one of us moves. When we are finished, Flynn takes out the wooden training knives and tosses one to me. "Are you up for a little practice?"

I catch the knife, grinning. "Absolutely, it's time for you to meet your match."

Flynn rolls his eyes, "You have a lot of confidence for someone who just a few days ago didn't even know how to hold the knife right."

"You should never underestimate your opponent," I reply.

Flynn leads me to a small clearing. I take up my stance and face Flynn, feeling nervous. Although we are only practicing with wooden knives that won't cause any real damage, I still find the prospect of facing someone as talented as Flynn to be somewhat daunting. Reflexively, I tighten my grip on the knife to steady my hand, but immediately Flynn corrects me.

"Relax your hand," he instructs, "Keep your grip supple."

I relax and he nods his approval. "Ready?" He asks with a grin. Before I can respond he jumps forward. I instinctively raise my knife to meet his and manage to deflect the first strike. But he recovers quickly and before I can defend myself, his knife is pointed at my throat. I freeze and Flynn laughs, "Not bad for your first attempt, let's try it again."

We train for the next forty five minutes until I am too exhausted to continue. I flop down on my back and try not to move my sore muscles. Even though the practice knives won't kill, I still managed to get numerous cuts and bruises from where Flynn's knife hit its mark. However, I am definitely improving. Towards the end of our training session I was able to exchange five or six blows with Flynn before he would defeat me. I stare up at the sky. It getting dark quickly and the first stars are starting to come out. For some reason, lying here with Flynn nearby, I feel insanely happy. I know it is crazy; I am on Murderers with more than one clan pursuing us and death seems more and more likely each day, but for the moment, I feel blissful. I lie here until night falls completely and then head back into the small hut.

Flynn is already there, sitting against one of the walls. His expression is unreadable, but there is a stormy look in his eyes. I wonder if he is thinking about Marek. His expression clears when I sit next to him and we sit in comfortable silence. Eventually, I feel something running down my face, and I realize that one of the cuts on my cheek has started to bleed. I stem the flow with my sleeve, but Flynn notices the blood and he leaps to his feet looking concerned. "Brie, are you alright? You're bleeding."

"It's okay," I try to reassure him; "it's just a cut from training. It isn't even deep."

He pulls me up and turns me so he can see the scrape. He still looks anxious. "It's fine." I say again, "See, the bleeding's already stopped." I drop my arm so Flynn can see for himself. He looks at it, his thumb caressing the cut, and slowly he leans in. He hesitates, our faces separated by only a few inches. Then our lips meet and he kisses me gently. The kiss deepens until it becomes desperate, Flynn pushes me up against the wall, his body pressed tight against mine. I kiss him back hungrily, relishing the taste of Flynn's lips, the feeling of his hands on my waist. Flynn pulls back slightly; his lips brush my cheek and then my neck before, much too soon, he pulls away completely. Passion is still burning in Flynn's eyes and I am short of breath.

"You should rest now." He whispers, "We have a long walk tomorrow." Flynn kisses me one more time before stepping back.

As I lie down on the cold dirt floor, Flynn's arm wrapped protectively around me, I can't keep my thoughts away from Flynn. I don't even remember falling for him, but now I ache to be near him. I allow Flynn's steady heartbeat to drift me off to sleep as I try not to think about what will happen once we make it back to Innocents.

It feels like I have just fallen asleep when Flynn shakes me awake. Early morning sun streams in from between the cracks in the walls and the air is chilly enough to see my breath. I start to shiver and I rub my arms to warm up. Apparently I still haven't acclimated to sleeping in the cold. Flynn notices and he wraps his arms around me, lending me some of his own warmth. Being so close to him causes my heart to do a little flip with pleasure. I close my eyes and enjoy his nearness. We stay this way until I finally work up the nerve to ask the question that has been gnawing at my mind. "Flynn, what's going to happen with us once we arrive on Innocents?"

I can feel Flynn tense and a few moments pass until he answers. "I don't know." He finally says. I start to pull away, but Flynn hugs me tighter, "We can worry about that when the time comes," he whispers, kissing my collar bone.

I shake my head, "We can't put off thinking about it. Once we get there, you will be a fugitive, it will be impossible for you to stay on Innocents without getting caught. And as soon as I make it back they will force me to take my Occupational Test and ship me off to work on one of the Islands."

"Escape to Mainlands with me," Flynn urges, "we can disappear entirely, find a place where nobody will find us. It can just be you and me."

I inhale sharply; I had never considered the prospect of leaving Innocents. I have a life that I could return to, a career that I could be happy doing. Sera and Livi wait for me. Was I really willing to throw that all away for a boy I just met?

Flynn turns me around and rests his forehead against mine and whispers, "I can't lose you, Brie."

And I may be stupid, foolish, and hopelessly infatuated when I whisper back "Okay," but I don't care. Flynn gives me that smile of his that causes my heart to flutter and steps away.

We eat the last of the berries for breakfast, but Flynn assures me that he will be able to find more along the way. "Ready to face Murderers again?" Flynn asks when we're done eating and I groan. The happiness that I have been feeling for the past day had overshadowed the fear that I constantly feel on Murderers. However, now that it is time to start traveling again, the trepidation returns in full force. Flynn seems to sense my nervousness and takes my hand. "Hey, don't worry", he says, "It is going to be fine. We are in No Man's Land. I can handle any attack here."

"I know," I say quietly, "I'm just not sure I can handle seeing any more people die."

"It's only a few more days," Flynn reassures me, "And then we will be free from it all."

I nod and take a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

We walk hand in hand for most of the journey, following the path of a shallow stream. Flynn is obviously more relaxed now that we have crossed into the unclaimed territory. He still keeps his knife in hand at all times, but his arm is relaxed and at his side. Along the way, Flynn manages to kill a rabbit. "We can have a fire now that we are out of clan territory," Flynn promises me, and I smile. It will be nice to eat something other than wild berries and nuts.

We manage to pass the day without meeting another person, and by the time we stop for the night, I am feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time. While Flynn is preparing the rabbit, I take out my knife and start practicing. I am still stiff and bruised from sparring with Flynn, but I disregard the pain, determined to improve. Flynn's voice goes through my head as I practice my first maneuver. Keep a wide stance, don't let your grip become rigid, your hand must be an extension of the blade. Aim for the heart, eyes, or throat. Know the difference between a death shot and a wound. One mistake can be the difference between survival and defeat. I slash my knife down and mimic a strike to an opponent's heart. Soon I become lost in the world of the fight, and when I return to reality, I am exhausted yet exhilarated. I see Flynn has come over to watch me and I turn towards him, expecting critique. He saunters over and drapes his arms around my waist, "You're getting better, pretty soon I won't even be a match for you."

"I have a good teacher," I reply and Flynn smiles.

Flynn and I sit together while we eat. I had never eaten rabbit before and the meat has a pungent taste that takes getting used to. However, it is nice to have actual meat for a change. While I eat, I think about what I would have been like if I had been born on Murderers. If I was born here, would I be like Flynn? Able to defend myself against all enemies, find food, and beat the odds in order to survive? I wonder if I have what it takes. Even after being on Murderers for two weeks, I am still completely dependent on Flynn for everything. From protection to finding food, without Flynn I am helpless. I think of the way he sent his knife spinning through the air, killing the rabbit before it was even alerted to our presence. I had never learned to throw a knife; it was a skill that was regarded as useless on Innocents. However, here, that seems like a dangerous gap in my training that must be remedied quickly.

"Will you teach me how to throw a knife?" I ask Flynn.

He hesitates, "I can try. But it isn't a skill you can master overnight. It takes months of practice to become consistent. I doubt it will help you much here."

"I still want to learn," I insist, "Besides, it may come in handy back on Mainlands."

"Alright," Flynn says, standing up, "Let's get started then."

First, Flynn demonstrates how to properly throw the knife. I study him carefully, taking note of his every move. He first points the blade at his target, a tree about three meters away. Then Flynn draws it back to behind his head before swinging his arm forward and releasing the knife. It sticks easily in the middle of the tree and Flynn turns toward me, "Your turn now."

I try to copy Flynn's stance, left foot in front, both knees slightly bent, weight on the balls of my feet.

"Turn your hips slightly," Flynn orders, "Make sure you are square with the target." He comes up behind me to correct my positioning and when he is done; his hands linger on my waist, causing warmth to course through me. "You should keep your left arm pointing straight at the target as a guide and release the knife when your right arm is even with your left. When you release continue to swing your arm back. That's called a follow through."

I nod and focus my attention on the target.

On my first attempt, the knife arrives at the tree in the middle of a rotation, causing the handle of the blade to hit instead of the point, but at least I managed to hit the target. Flynn has me continue practicing until I finally get a good stick. By the time I manage it, my shoulders are aching with fatigue, and the jarring motion seems to have aggravated my bruised ribs, but I manage to hide the pain the best I can. I know Flynn would refuse to teach me any more if he thought it was hurting me.

I wander off a ways into the woods until I find where the stream crosses my path. I'm filthy and the water only comes up to my knees, but I manage to wash myself the best I can. My clothes are also dirty from travel, but the night is too cold to wash them now. The best I can do is shake them out before redressing. I brush through my hair with my fingers and then examine my reflection in the gently flowing water. I grimace; my time on Murderers has dramatically changed my appearance. My cheeks have hollowed out and my hair is a mess, despite my best efforts at controlling it. However, the biggest change is in my eyes. The brown irises have taken on a hard look that reflect the danger and fear I have been living in. I look away and head back to our encampment. The last light has long since left the sky, and I can tell it is late.

Flynn is still awake, waiting for me. He sits against a tree, lazily spinning his knife on the ground. "If you took any longer, I was going to go looking for you. I was getting nervous that something had happened," he says when he sees me.

I roll my eyes, "I was barely gone for fifteen minutes. And besides, I'm not helpless anymore, I can handle myself."

"You were never helpless," Flynn remarks, "You're one of the strongest people I know. But I still worry about you, I have told you before, you attract trouble like crazy."

There is too much truth to deny what he is saying, so I choose not to argue. Instead I lie down next to Flynn. He slides his arm under my head, cushioning it against the ground and I slowly fade away.
Chapter 17

Kyla stands at the end of a shadowy tunnel. Her dark hair flies around as if caught in a heavy breeze and the front of her shirt is stained dark. Blood. I try to approach her, but I realize that I am tied to a tall post. Kyla sees me and slowly walks over, her brown eyes filled with hate, a knife his held in her hand.

"You should have saved me," she snarls, "It is your fault that I am dead." I try to explain to her that I had tried, but was too late, but no sound comes out of my mouth.

"If I died, why do you deserve to live?" Kyla screeches as she drives her knife deep into my flesh. My scream of pain is silent and Kyla sneers at me, "You should have died with me on that day, but now, we are here to collect you."

Suddenly, the room begins to fill with people, each advancing on me with knives drawn. Landon, Calder, Eaton, the Scorch I killed my first day on Murderers. All are pale with death, bled out. They jeer at me before bringing their weapons down upon me.

Next, Tegan appears. Her throat dripping with blood, and there is a dark hole where her heart should be. "It's your fault, all your fault." Her voice is strong with loathing as she looks at me, "You were in charge, it was your job to protect us. But you failed, and now we're dead." She brings her knife down, "And so are you." I find my voice and scream until my throat is hoarse.

"Brie! You're okay, Brie. Wake up." Flynn's voice jolts me from my nightmare. I am shaking and tears are dried on my cheeks. I give a dry sob and bury my face in my hands, unable to shake the picture of Tegan from my mind.

"Hey, it's okay. It was only a dream," Flynn says gently, but I shake my head.

"I saw them, Flynn. Kyla and the rest of my team. And they are dead because of me." Tears are now streaming freely down my cheeks.

Flynn shakes his head, "No, none of their deaths were your fault. You didn't kill them, the Scorch and Volis did."

"But I was their leader," I sob, unable to stop the tears, "it was my job to protect them and I failed. Why do I deserve to live when they're rotting away?" I add, remembering what Kyla had said in my dream. _If I died, why do you deserve to live? You should have died with me on that day._

"You did everything you could to help them," Flynn says firmly. "If you have to blame anyone, blame the Public Safety Council. They are the ones who sent you here."

Guilt still gnaws at my heart. Maybe I could have fought harder, worried about protecting them before worrying about myself. Perhaps then they would still be alive.

"It's not your fault," Flynn says again, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Gradually, my tears slow and I lie back down. I am afraid to fall back asleep, for fear of slipping back into the nightmare, but Flynn whispers, "I'm here for you, nothing will hurt you." And my eyes begin to grow heavy with sleep.

By the next day, I am feeling embarrassed by my breakdown. I wonder if Flynn still thinks I am strong, I know that I have some serious doubts about that myself. Thoughts of my former team haunt me as we walk, and I cannot shake the feeling of guilt growing inside of me. But by noon, much of my guilt has turned into anger at the PSC. They sent us here, realizing we would probably die. Our lives are worthless to them, completely disposable to fit their agenda of keeping up their public approval ratings. It's true that my crimes may have been severe enough to warrant sending me on the expedition, but the rest of my team was guilty of no more than minor infractions. Yet, I was the only one to survive. I kick the ground in frustration, and Flynn gives me a curious look. The PSC is corrupt; they don't give a damn about public safety. They just want to make sure that enough people are sent to the Islands to keep their business lucrative.

See, what happens is, when a person gets sent to an island, the PSC gains control of all of their assets, from their house to their life savings. Even if whoever gets sent to the Islands still has family left on Mainlands, the PSC is entitled to a certain percentage of their wealth. It is a multi-billion dollar industry. This has never bothered me in the past, our schools are designed to brainwash us into becoming PSC supporters and I always believed what they told me. But now I realize how corrupt they truly are.

The Islands are good for no one, crime rates on Mainlands are higher than ever, and I am witnessing first hand that inhabitants of the Islands are forming their own civilizations consisting of some of the worst society, a civilization that thrives on destruction. And pretty soon the fence won't be able to contain them. Out of sight may be out of mind, but it does not make the problems go away. But as long as the PSC profits, nothing changes.

For the first time in a long time, I think about my father. The group my father had been supplying weapons to was an anti-PSC group called KNOT. An organization devoted to bringing down the PSC and the Islands. Rumor has it that it was started by the former president of the PSC, Luke Vesorius; a man who went crazy and blew up a Council Building before being impeached.

At the time, I had hated my father for his involvement in KNOT. He had knowingly risked himself and us for an idealistic view of the future and I had despised him for it. However, now I am beginning to understand my father's sacrifice. He understood what the PSC had become and was willing to fight against it, regardless of the cost. I also know that if I make it off Murderers alive, I will not be content until the Public Safety Council is brought to justice.

Without warning, Flynn throws out his arm, jolting me from my thoughts and stopping me in my tracks. I can tell by the tense look on his face that something isn't right.

"What's wro—" I begin, but Flynn holds up his hand to silence me. He raises his knife slightly and listens. For a second I hear nothing, but then I manage to make out the sound of voices. My heart begins to race. Our reprieve from violence is over and it is time to kill again. The thought makes me feel nauseous. Flynn glances at me, seeing my expression. Then, to my surprise, he lets his knife arm fall to his side and grabs me, pulling behind an outcropping of rocks, well hidden from view.

"What are we doing?" I ask, confused by his sudden change of behavior, I have never known Flynn to hide before.

"Avoiding a fight," Flynn answers in a strained whisper, "They haven't seen us yet and I know you don't want to kill them."

Relief floods through me when I realize Flynn does not plan on fighting. For now at least, I won't have to add anyone else to the list of deaths I am responsible for. I take Flynn's hand, lacing my fingers through his, "Thank you," I say softly.

Another minute passes before I catch a glimpse of the Murderers. There are three of them, two men and a woman. They look very different from the other inhabitants I have seen. Their clothes are tattered and I can see every bone through their sallow skin. It is obvious that they are close to death. The woman is limping badly and one of the men is missing an eye. The socket is a raw and bloody, his face grotesquely swollen to twice its normal size. I have to look away. I try to tell myself that these people are murderers, they deserve their punishment. But looking at the pitiful condition of these three, I cannot justify it.

Finally, the Murderers' voices fade and I know that Flynn and I are alone once again. Flynn gets up, but I remain huddled on the ground, unable to shake the image of the one-eyed man from my mind. Eventually, I take a ragged breath and stand up. "I guess I need to work on becoming stronger so I don't have a break down every time I see someone injured," I say hollowly.

"You'll never need to work on that," Flynn protests, "You're already strong. Your compassion is what sets you apart from the rest of us here. When you see someone in pain, you hurt for them. You want to help without thinking about what it will cost you. But me, when I see people suffering, I turn my back on them. I know I should help, but I don't. When you've lived on Murderers long enough you eventually grow numb to the suffering around you, it just becomes part of your life. It's disgusting but true. But you're not like that, which is one of the things that attracted me to you in the first place. The first time we talked after I rescued you, your main concern was for your team, not yourself. I had never seen that before, and it made me think that maybe people aren't inherently bad. Your emotions are what make you strong, Brie. Don't ever change that."

Flynn is staring at me with a deep intensity and suddenly it hits me, I think I love him. It's crazy and it's insane. But even though I have barely known him for two weeks and I know almost nothing about him, I love him. And even though it doesn't make any sense, maybe it doesn't have to.
Chapter 18

Sometime during our hike it starts to rain. The cold drops sting my eyes and make it nearly impossible to see. We continue to climb steadily uphill, the mud making our path slippery. More than once Flynn has to grab my arm to keep me from falling. Within a few hours we finally make it to the top of the hill and the path levels out. I gasp; from here you can see the entire island as well as the surrounding ocean.

I turn in the direction of Innocents and my thoughts turn toward Sera and Livi. By now, they must have given up any hope of me coming back. They probably have already said goodbye and are trying to move on. I wish I could tell them that I'm alive, but even if everything goes as planned, I will never see them again. When I return to Innocents, it will be to escape with Flynn. It is what I want, but the thought is still bittersweet. Flynn notices me looking toward Innocents. "What was your life like there?" He asks.

I resume walking, "Some days it was fine, pleasant even, others it was unbearable. They have everything down to a science, designed to keep you from wanting out but never enough to make you truly happy. Everything is governed by strict rules and no one sees you as a person, you are only a number. But it was really the only life I ever knew and I was content living it."

Flynn looks at me sadly, "Will you miss anyone?"

I sigh, "Yes, I will miss almost everyone, my friends, my peers, my guards instructor."

"Tell me about your friends," Flynn insists.

I picture Sera's face, "One of my friends, Sera, is probably the funniest person I know. She always knows what to say to someone and she can make you laugh no matter what. Her confidence is almost contagious. My other friend, Livi is shy and quiet and sweet. She believes in ideals that don't exist and thinks that there is no wrong in the world. Usually living on Innocents crushes that, but she found a way to hang on to it."

Pretty soon I start describing almost everyone I knew on Innocents, explaining their strengths and their quirks. Flynn seems fascinated by this world that is so entirely different from his own and I talk until the sun is low in the sky and it is time to stop for the night.

By the time we stop, I am dead on my feet. I feel like I could lie down and sleep for years. However, Flynn insists on practicing my fighting. At first, I can barely summon the energy to raise my arm and accept the wooden knife from Flynn, but as my fingers close around the hilt, adrenalin courses through me giving me new energy.

Flynn and I circle each other. I can see Flynn analyzing me, predicting my every movement and determining the best way to defeat me. Without thinking, I make the first move, leaping into action and allowing my instincts to take over. I feign as if I am going to strike at his heart, but at the last minute I drop to my knees and slash at his leg before rolling to my feet. In a real fight, the cut would be little more than a flesh wound, but this is the first time I managed to mark Flynn and I feel a sense of pride in the achievement. Flynn retaliates with a series of quick slashes. I jump back and evade the first and deflect the second off my blade. The third catches me in the arm but I ignore it, the fight is not over yet. My knife manages to touch him two more times, once in the hand, the other along his side. I notice that his guard arm has dropped slightly, leaving his heart undefended and I see my opening to end the fight. But as I swing my arm towards my target, Flynn neatly sidesteps and I realize it was a ploy, he purposefully dropped his arm to bait me into action. Before I can pull back, Flynn knocks the knife out of my hand, his own knife already at my throat. Both of us are breathing hard and Flynn has a look of pride in his eyes.

"That is one of the most difficult fights I have ever been in." He says in awe, "If you had proper training before, Marek himself would be under your control." I blush, pleased with his praise. Though I am less pleased when he demands we go again. The knife is getting heavy in my hand and my arms feel like lead, but I steel myself and face Flynn. This fight is more intense than the last. Flynn fights with cool calculation; each thrust accomplishes a specific purpose, while I rely on spontaneity and impulse. Our two techniques clash and the minutes drag on, neither of us able to land the winning blow. Finally, Flynn manages to breach my defenses and land a strike to the heart. Utterly spent, I fall to the ground, pulling Flynn down with me. He lands on top of me and stares down into my eyes.

"You're amazing Brie," he softly says and I pull him down for a deep kiss. His kisses travel down my jaw and onto my neck. I moan softly and my lips find his again. Finally we separate. Flynn cups my face with his hand, "I think I love you," he says, his voice raw with emotion.

I set my hand on his, "I think I might love you too."

The next day dawns cold and grey. Today we are leaving the relative safety of No Man's Land and entering into the territory of the Astut clan. Despite the perilous journey that still lies ahead, I am feeling giddy about Flynn's revelation last night, and yet another part of me is terrified by it. The concept of being loved is one that is strangely foreign to me. Sure, my parents must have loved me once, but somewhere in the twelve years I spent on Innocents, those memories faded into non-existence. On Innocents, dating was discouraged until after your Occupational Test, and unlike Sera, I was never one to sneak out of my room at night to meet guys. I preferred to spend my time training, never allowing anyone to get too close to me. But now Flynn has chipped away at the wall surrounding my heart and planted himself firmly inside it. These new emotions almost scare me more than fighting my way through Murderers. Almost.

Flynn wraps his arm around my waist, "Where'd you go just now?" He asks, bringing me back to the present. I blush slightly, "Thinking," I reply.

"About us?" He whispers, his breathe tickling my ear.

"Always," I reply, and Flynn sneaks in a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth before I pull away, remembering that we are in the middle of Murderers with the possibility of being attacked at any moment. Soon we'll be free, I think as we continue on, free from this constant fear, the not knowing what terrors are in store for us and whether or not we will survive the next curve ball that life throws at us.
Chapter 19

"You're kidding right?" I demand incredulously looking at the sheer drop off below me, "We actually have to climb down that?" We had only been hiking for a couple of hours before we came to a steep cliff blocking our way. I may have navigated my way fairly well up and down the climbing walls on Innocents, but this three hundred foot drop between me and certain death is a different story. The rock is slick from the persistent mist that has been hanging over the island and from what I can see, the cliff wall is relatively smooth, providing limited foot and hand holds. There is also the small matter of not having a harness. Flynn looks at me with some humor, obviously confused about my reluctance. "There's got to be an easier way down this thing," I complain.

Flynn considers this, hesitating, "This is the fastest, but we could hike a few miles down, it's less steep there. It would cost us in time though." I take another look at the deadly drop before me, weighing the odds of me surviving the climb down. As deadly as the cliff may be, the thought of unnecessarily adding additional hours onto the time I have left on Murderers is even less appealing. "No, I can do the cliff," I finally tell Flynn.

He studies me carefully, "You sure?"

No, I think as I nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady. It's alright, I try to reassure myself, three hundred foot cliff with deadly rocks waiting at the bottom, I've faced worse. The sad thing is that this is actually true.

"Just go slowly and keep calm and you'll be fine," Flynn instructs. Ha, easier said than done. Flynn goes first, and I watch as he skillfully begins to navigate the precipice. His brow furrows in concentration as he slowly inches his way down. After he's makes it a good ten feet, I start my own descent. The rocky wall is every bit as slippery as it looks, and I'm immediately regretting my decision to agree to the climb. I block out these nagging thoughts and concentrate on the task before me: not dying. I take a quick look down and see that Flynn has already made it another ten feet in the time it's taken me to accomplish my one foot. With agonizing slowness, I finally start making progress. My short stature makes it difficult to reach for footholds and I end up going sideways just as much as down in an attempt to find an easier approach.

By the time I am half way down, the muscles in my arms and legs are screaming in protest. Flynn has already reached the ground and is pacing at the bottom with obvious anxiety. Shows how much he believes in my mountaineering skills. After a quick break to catch my breath, I begin my downward progress again. I make it about ten more feet before my foot catches a loose rock. The rock falls free from the cliff wall, catching me by surprise, and soon I am dangling by only my hands over a hundred feet off the ground. Time seems to slow as I attempt to regain my traction, but there are no footholds within reach. I can hear Flynn calling frantically to me but my panic enveloped brain cannot comprehend his words.

My already sore arms are burning with exertion of supporting my body, and I frantically look around, desperate for an idea. About two feet below my head is a small ledge, about six inches deep. It is too high for my legs to reach, but if I can someone get there; I may be able find a protuberance to rest my feet on. Letting go with one hand, I attempt to reach down to the shelf. No luck; my fingers are still a good foot away. I close my eyes, realizing I only have one option left. The burning in my arms has reached an unbearable level, so I let go, I hear Flynn's distressed yell as I plummet down with sickening speed. Using the last ounce of my strength, I manage to catch the ledge with my hands, jolting myself to a sharp stop.

My legs fumble to find a purchase on the slick rock, until finally I find a small crevice, just deep enough for my toe to slip into, supporting my weight and giving my arms a rest. I'm breathing hard and my entire body is shaking with fear and fatigue. I take a moment to recover my wits before continuing the perilous journey to the bottom.

When my feet finally touch solid ground again, I crumple into a heap, my limbs feeling as if they are on fire. Flynn hurries over to me, his gaze brimming with panic and anguish, reflecting all of his unsaid concern.

"I'm fine;" I say weakly, attempting to wave him off "just need a moment." Flynn ignores my request and pulls me into a tight embrace, "That was so stupid! Why would you just let go?" he demands.

I let out a shaky laugh, "I didn't really have a choice." Flynn buries his face in my hair, "I thought I was going to lose you," he whispers.

"I'm still here," I reassure him, as I extricate myself from his arms. I brush the dirt off of my travel worn clothes and take another deep steadying breath.

"No more cliffs," Flynn informs me, "Not that I would let you attempt to climb down another one anyway." I am torn between relief that the worst is behind us, and exasperated that my mishap on the cliff has only reinforced Flynn's notion that I am hazard prone.

There is certain atmosphere of zeal as we walk, by tomorrow afternoon we should arrive at the gates to our freedom and leave behind this horrible island once and for all. The thought is enough to put anyone in a good mood. We make good progress for the rest of the day. The terrain stays flat and easy to navigate and thankfully we do not meet any Astut clan members. Perhaps our luck is finally looking up. I remember the old Innocents superstition about knocking on wood so you don't jinx yourself and I casually rap my knuckles on the next tree I pass.

The sun is sinking low in the sky, fading into a bright pink sunset and Flynn and I decide to make camp in the midst of a cluster of bushes. It's not the most comfortable of locations, but the shrubbery keeps us shielded from view and offers some relief from the cold wind that has begun to pick up.

"Feel like training?" Flynn asks.

I groan, "I can barely lift my arms as it is," I complain, "one of us nearly died on a cliff this morning remember."

Flynn scowls, "Like I could forget. I never should have let you climb down. It was stupid and careless of me."

I roll my eyes and throw a clump of dirt at him, too tired to put up much more of a fight about my self-sufficiency, "Well I survived, didn't I? You can't protect me against everything." Flynn looks at me challengingly, without out warning, he tackles me to the ground, pinning my arms to my side. His hair tickles my face as he tenderly kisses me, "Maybe I can't protect you from everything, but I'm going to try. From now on, I'm not letting you leave my side."

"Sounds good to me," I murmur, grabbing his T-shirt and bringing his lips back down onto mine. Heat course through my veins as Flynn's tongue gently pries my mouth open, caressing my lower lip. I tangle my hands in his hair, losing myself in the kiss. The snap of a twig brings us sharply back to reality, and Flynn has his knives drawn and at ready before I can even gather my wits. I quickly take out my own blade and crouch next to Flynn. My vision is limited in the now semi-darkness, but Flynn has his eyes trained on a dark object about twenty feet away, one that I assumed to be a tree, however, upon further observation I can see that it is moving towards us.

Flynn curses quietly and turns to me, "Stay here and keep hidden," he warns. So much for me never leaving his side. Before I can protest, he springs into action, closing the distance between him and our mysterious companion in three steps. The figure yelps and jumps back, raising his hands above his head to show that he is unarmed. "Flynn, stop! It's me, Heath!" he cries.

Flynn slows, lowering his knife a fraction of an inch, "Jesus Christ, Heath, what the hell are you doing here and how did you find us?"

Heath looks warily at Flynn's knife, "I've been tracking you since you left, and so has Marek. That's what I've come to warn you about, Marek's coming after you, and he's less than a day behind me." Flynn curses violently and I abandon my spot in the bushes to join him. Flynn shoots me a look clearly stating that I should still be hiding with the shrubbery, but I ignore it, this is too important to miss.

"Tell me what you know," Flynn demands and Heath sighs heavily.

"You can put away your knife, Flynn. I'm here to help you."

Flynn remains unconvinced, "I'll take that into consideration once I've heard your story. For now I'm going to assume that you're working for Marek." Heath grumbles a bit but doesn't make any further protests and follows Flynn and I back to our encampment. "Keep your hands where I can see them," Flynn warns.

"You'd think I'd have actually done something to earn your distrust with the way your acting," Heath complains. Flynn ignores this and looks expectantly at Heath. In the fading light, I can't make out the younger boy's face very well, but from what I can see, he looks just as bad as we must. Scratches and dirt cover every inch of his face and his eyes are dark with lack of sleep. "Where's Landon?" Heath asks, glancing around as though expecting to see him hiding under a bush. Flynn's eyes harden at the mention of his friend and when he speaks, his voice reveals some of his emotion. "He's dead. Killed by the Volis."

"I'm sorry," Heath says, and he actually sounds sincere.

Flynn nods in acknowledgement, "Now it's time to hear your story, and I'll warn you now that if I find out you're betraying me, I will make you regret it." Heath takes a deep breath and begins his tale.

Fifteen minutes later, we're sitting in nervous silence. Heath has informed us that Cadoc, leader of the Volis, came to Marek personally and described Flynn and Landon's rescue mission and attack on their base camp. He threatened the Domus with clan war, but told Marek that he could prevent it by killing Flynn. As soon as Heath over heard this, he decided to run off and track us down to warn us. From what he's learned, there is a group of at least ten Domus behind us, led by none other than Marek himself. I shudder at the thought and Flynn reaches over and threads his fingers through mine. Heath raises an eyebrow and looks quizzically at our joined hands but Flynn disregards him. He puts down his knife and exhales slowly, "You say they're about a day behind us?"

Heath shrugs, "Less than that probably. If I had to guess, I'd say they will be on us by midday tomorrow."

"Should we leave now?" I ask, trying to mask my fatigue.

Flynn shakes his head "No, I'm not going to risk traipsing around Astut territory in the dark. Besides, we need to be well rested for tomorrow."

I try to hide my relief at the news, "You're the boss," I say in my best attempt at nonchalance.

Flynn looks amused by this statement, "Can I hold you to that?"

I laugh, "That depends on what you want me to do."

"Right now I want you to sleep."

"Hmm, I think I can manage that," I reply, right now sleep sounds like the best thing in the world. I lie down allowing my eye lids to droop and within seconds I'm out completely.

I'm not sure how much time has passed when I am woken up by the sound of low voices. I keep my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep and listen. Flynn is describing the events that transpired since we left the Volis and I can just hear his words above the howling of the wind.

"So you actually led a raid on the Domus and survived it?" Heath's voice is incredulous. "If I had to guess, I'd say that that was never done before. Successfully at least."

"I didn't have a choice," Flynn insists, "They would have killed Brie if I didn't. And I guess Marek being gone helped my odds of survival, not that I knew it at the time."

"You must really care about her," Heath says somewhat wistfully. I immediately concentrate on keeping my breathing slow and steady, waiting for Flynn to answer. When he responds, his voice is so quiet I almost miss it, "You have no idea."

Heath doesn't respond and suddenly I feel a deep pity for the boy. I wonder if he has ever had anyone truly care about him. The thought fills me with sadness and also makes me realize that even if Innocents wasn't the ideal place to grow up, it could have been a lot worse. I had friends that I loved and who loved me back, something I had always taken for granted, but now coming to Murderers, I realize how special that is.

The two boys turn their conversation back to our journey and I tune out, allowing the sound of the wind to relax me until I drift off again.
Chapter 20

I wake up in the morning to find a sheet of frost covering the ground. The early morning air is bitter cold and I hug myself to keep warm. I notice with a dull feeling of surprise that the cold has ceased to bother me while sleeping. The thought of getting used to life on Murderers disturbs me, so I push it out of my mind. Flynn and Heath are huddled a few feet away, deeply absorbed in conversation. I hear them mention Marek a couple of times and a sick feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of my stomach. Unless we have a drastic change in luck, we may be coming face to face with him in only a few hours.

Stretching my sore limbs, I get up and join my two companions. When he sees me, Flynn tries to hide his worry behind a strained smile, but his dark eyes still display his fear. Heath smiles shyly at me, a sweet, genuine look that makes me take an immediate liking to the boy.

"You hungry?" He asks, "If I know Flynn, he's probably has had you eating those disgusting berries he likes to call food.

Flynn glares at him good naturedly, "If I remember right, those _disgusting berries_ have kept you alive on more than one occasion.

"Anyways," Heath continues, pretending he hadn't heard Flynn, "I bet it would be a nice change to actually have some real food." He pulls a small package of crackers out of his beat up pack and hands it to me. "Have as much as you want. We won't need it after today, one way or the other."

"Thank you," I say, taking the container. I saver the salty taste of the wafers, trying to make them last as long as I can. I can't remember a time when food tasted so good and before I know it, the package is empty. I notice Flynn watching me with an amused expression as I exuberantly lick the last of the salt from my fingers and I give him a pointed look. This is not the time to be mocking my etiquette.

"We should go," Flynn says, tearing his gaze away from mine, "We want to get as close to the fence as we can before the Domus catch up with us." I swallow hard, Flynn makes it sound like that's guaranteed to happen. Flynn helps me to my feet, and together, the three of us start on the last stretch of our journey toward freedom.

We've been running for hours, and I won't be able to continue much longer. My legs feel like lead and my lungs burn with every laborious breath I take. I know that despite our best efforts, our pace still isn't fast enough to escape the Domus. Soon they will catch us, and I am beginning to doubt that we will survive the encounter. I start counting my strides, anything to take my mind of the pain building in my chest and the panic rising in my stomach, pouring my concentration into my strides. 305, 306, 307... The pain is growing again despite my best attempts to block it out, and my legs begin to slow, ignoring the frantic signals from my brain to keep going, and I start to drop back.

"Come on Brie, it's just over a mile now!" Flynn encourages anxiously. I can do this, I think. Only a mile separates me from freedom and I refuse to give up now just because I'm tired. I attempt to steel my resolve, but my body is too exhausted, refusing to cooperate, and I shake my head, tears springing to my eye as I realize I've come all this way only to be stopped within a mile of my destination.

"You go," I tell Flynn, my voice hoarse, "I can't go on any longer." Perhaps if they leave me, I can create enough of a diversion to give Flynn and Heath enough time to escape, give my life to protect Flynn's; there are worse ways to die.

"No, I'm not leaving you," Flynn says angrily, his eyes burning with incredulity. But I've made up my mind and I look at Flynn with fierce determination.

"Yes, you are. You are going to leave me here and make it to the fence, and you are going to live because one of us is going to make it and I can't. But you taught me how to fight and I'll be able to hold my own until you're free." Tears are running freely down my face now but I've past the point of caring. "Please, Flynn" I beg quietly, "Do this for me."

Flynn takes a step closer to me and wipes a tear from my cheek. "No," he says, his voice heated with passion, "Without you, there's nothing I have to live for."

"But you've only just met me," I protest softly. Flynn reaches over a tilts my chin up so that my eyes meet his, "No Brie. I've known you forever, because my life started when I first saw you and there's no way in hell that I'm going to let you go without a fight. If you can't go on, then we will wait here for them, but either way, there's no way you are leaving my sight."

I nod, numb by his speech and unsure how to respond. It's Heath who eventually breaks the silence and I start a little when he speaks, momentarily forgetting that he was with us.

"If you're going to come up with a plan, Flynn, you better do it now. The Domus could be on us at any minute." Flynn surveys the area, there are some clusters of trees, but none that would offer us enough cover to hide.

"We fight back to back," Flynn orders, "Stay tight together and don't get separated from the group. They have the advantage in numbers so be patient and let them come to us. The worst thing we could do is charge them." He takes out his knives, the cold steel glinting in the sun. I follow suit, my hand trembling slightly. "Just like in training," Flynn whispers to me. Heath is bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, slashing his knife through the air as though he did this every day. I wonder if he is really as calm as he looks or if his cool demeanor is only masking his inner panic. We take our positions, our backs together forming a triangle and we wait. Seconds drag into minutes and I jump at every noise. Finally I hear it, the sound of feet coming our way, lots of them. Flynn tenses next to me and I take a deep calming breath. It's time to finish this, once and for all.
Chapter 21

The first Domus breaks through the trees, shaggy black hair partially covering his cruelly carved face. His mouth briefly forms an "o" of surprise when he sees us before it fades into a smirk. Several other people appear behind him, confused by their sudden stop. I do a quick head count: twelve total. The black haired Murderer looks at Flynn with obvious dislike, "I never thought you were the suicidal type Flynn, but that's the only reason I can think of that you would actually stop to wait for us. Unless you really are just that stupid." I can tell from his voice that there is some bad blood between this guy and Flynn, but if Flynn is nervous, he doesn't show it.

He stares coldly at the Domus, "Are you really prepared to die for Marek, Jet? Because if you attack, there's no way any of you are leaving here alive."

A low chuckle interrupts Flynn and the crowd of Murderers part at the sound revealing a tall man dressed entirely in black. I gasp softly, unable to stop myself, and the man turns his face towards me. I don't need Flynn to tell me who this is; the man has a presence that emits evil so powerfully it could only be one person: Marek. His ice blue eyes meet mine and in them I see cold amusement mixed with contempt; I have to look away. Marek's lips curl into a slight smile as he turns back to Flynn.

"I would love to hear your brilliant plan of how you plan to defeat myself along with my eleven most highly trained followers aided only by a weakling native who could never even defend himself, and an Innocent who couldn't last five minutes here on her own. Not even you are that good, Flynn Jenners." With a start, I realize that this was the first time I've ever heard Flynn's last name.

"Try to attack us and you'll find out for yourself," Flynn says challengingly. Marek gives another low laugh looking around at his surrounding arrogantly; his followers have spread out, surrounding us.

"It's going to be a shame to kill you, but you know what happens to traitors." At those words, the Domus spring into action, coming at us from all sides.

A heavily built blonde Murderer reaches me first, slashing at my throat. I just manage to raise my knife in time to block, and the blow ricochets of my blade. My mind goes into autopilot as I fight; every ounce of concentration I possess is being used to stay alive. The blonde is a good fighter, but I was taught by the best and I begin to notice his weaknesses. Whenever he seems to gain the upper hand in our fight, his actions become rushed and sloppy, something I can use to my advantage. I pretend to tire, allowing him to clearly see an opening in my defenses. The Domus takes the bait, swinging his knife wildly at me. At the last second, I catch his arm, using his own strength against him as I drive my knife deep into his stomach and slash upward.

I kick him away from me and quickly glance around at the fight going on at all sides. Flynn has already taken down two opponents and is locked in combat with a third; Heath is struggling to take down his first attacker. Our positioning is the only thing keeping us alive; the Domus can only come at us one or two at a time, weakening their advantage of strength in numbers. I am disgusted to see Marek hanging back, observing the fight from a safe distance, surrounded by two guards. However, before I can dwell on this a figure leaps at me and I curse myself for getting distracting in this dire situation.

My new opponent is smaller and quicker than the first and I find myself tiring fast. I have to end this duel before I use too much of my precious energy. I attack using a series of quick slashes, none of my hits are deadly, but they are enough to tilt the balance in my favor. As I manage to land a shallow cut to his neck, the Domus instinctively raises his hands to protect himself and I end it. As I pull out my knife, I hear a pained yell and Heath drops to the ground, a deep cut stretching from his knee to his hip. His opponent, a tall dark skinned Domus raises his knife to deliver the killer blow. Flynn gives an enraged shout, pushing his adversary away from him, a bloody smile where his throat used to be, and lunges toward Heath, intercepting the strike meant for Heath's heart. The knife catches him in the side and I cry out as he doubles over, blood staining his shirt. Wincing, he yanks the knife from his side and turns it against its owner. Even injured, Flynn is still deadly.

I try to reach Flynn, but I find my way blocked by a dark haired woman. She smiles mockingly at me as she raises her wickedly sharp stiletto. Disregarding my own safety, I spring at the women, caring only about reaching Flynn. She meets me half way and our knives collide, the aftermath jolting my shoulder painfully. The women kicks my feet out from under me and I roll madly away, springing back to my feet. She comes at me again and it takes everything I have not to get gutted like a fish.

We dance back and forth exchanging blows, neither of us able to gain the upper hand. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of Flynn; he is locked in combat with Marek and the black haired Murderer, Jet. His face is pale with pain, but I can't afford to worry about him now, I'll be of no use to him dead. My opponent hacks down at my arm and I dodge just in time, the tip of her knife grazing my skin.

I lose my balance and fall hard to the ground; the woman kicks the knife out of my hand leaving me defenseless. My extra knife is stowed in my belt, but I'll be dead before I can reach it. The Domus woman hovers over me, knife held high. I close my eyes and, as a last resort, bring my feet up and kick her hard in the chest. The force of the blow knocks her off balance, and I lunge for my knife. I'm about to bring it down hard on her neck when a cold voice rings out.

"Stop or Flynn dies."

I freeze as I see Marek holding a knife to Flynn's neck. My instincts scream at me to finish the fight but I disregard them and slowly lower my knife to the ground. Immediately, the Domus woman I was fighting seizes me, clutching me in a headlock so that I can barely breathe. I stare at Marek with a look of pure loathing; his white blonde hair is speckled with Flynn's blood and he has a nasty cut down his forehead.

Marek speaks in a soft deadly voice, "I admit, you put up a valiant fight, but in the end it was futile, as I said it would be. I am going to kill you Flynn Jenners, for your disloyalty after I made you everything you are today, but not before I make you watch as Ash kills your precious Innocents pet. Slowly, savoring every cut."

He laughs, the sound chilling me to the very core of my existence. Flynn struggles against Marek's arms, but Marek digs the tip of his knife deeper into Flynn's neck and he stills. Seeing Flynn's blood running down his neck fills me with a fury the likes of which I had never felt before.

No, I think, we have not come this close to freedom only to be stopped like this. With these thoughts running through my head, I play my most desperate card. With all my remaining strength, I drive my elbow hard into Ash's ribs, taking her by surprise, giving me enough time to retrieve my spare knife from my belt.

Desperately, I fling it at Marek. The blade spirals through the air, forcing Marek to jump out of its path. This distraction is all Flynn needs. In one swift motion, he snatches the knife from Marek and drives it deep into his shoulder. Marek gives a cry of rage and pain as Flynn pushes him to the ground. He dashes over to where Heath lays unconscious, either from pain or blood loss, and swings him over his shoulder. In the confusion we sprint off, knowing we only have seconds until they regroup and hunt us down.
Chapter 22

Adrenalin fuels us in our frantic dash. Flynn leads me wildly through the woods, switching directions constantly in an attempt to throw our pursuers off our tail. Finally, I see it through the trees. A sight I never thought I would be so relieved to lay eyes upon: the gates of Murderers. I nearly cry with relief as we sprint the last hundred meters to safety. There are excited whoops as the Murderers Guards catch sight of us, expecting a fight.

"Please!" I shout breathlessly, "My name is Brie Vanguard and these are Eaton and Calder. We were sent from Innocents over two weeks ago to deliver food, but we were attacked." We slide to a stop at the gates and I clutch the chain link fence in desperation, gasping for breath, "Please, you have to let us out!" I plead, my voice high with panic.

The guards regard us curiously. "We have to call this in first," one says finally, "Wait here until you're cleared."

"No! You don't understand!" I'm practically screaming, and for the second time today, tears are running down my cheeks. "We're being chased by Murderers, they'll be here any second. You can't just leave us here to die!"

The guards look at each other and for a heart stopping moment, I think they are going to refuse. A shout sounds behind us, and I know the Domus are nearly upon us. Then, one of the guards shrugs and takes out her keys and unlocks the gates. Frantically, Flynn and I rush through the gates and they slam closed behind us. Before I can make it more than a few steps I feel the cold sting of metal against my skin. I yelp and jump back, colliding with the owner of the knife pressed to my neck.

Nervously, I look around and see that the guards have also surrounded Flynn. To my relief, at least one of them is kneeling down to examine Heath.

"We're going to have to clear this with Innocents before we let you go," my guard tells me.

"Okay," I say, keeping a wary eye on Flynn, praying he will stay calm and not attack, "My guards instructor is Saffi Mehta. She will tell you who we are." My guard nods and then barks orders at another, telling him to contact Innocents. We wait for several long minutes, my legs are numb and shaking with exhaustion, and just when I don't think I will be able to keep myself standing any longer, the guard comes back into view.

"Innocents confirmed, seventeen days ago they sent a group of five to Murderers including Calder Schultz, Eaton Simmons, and Brie Vanguard. Their descriptions seem to match those of these three." My guard relaxes and allows her knife to fall back to her side; Flynn's guard does the same. All I want to do is rush to Flynn and bury my face in his shirt but I restrain myself, knowing it might raise some eyebrows. Instead I turn to one of the guards, "Eaton needs medical attention. He was cut on the leg when we were attacked. He's been unconscious ever since."

The guard looks at me reassuringly, "We have some medical supplies on hand in case of attacks, we'll see what we can do for him." His voice is warm and comforting. I thank him as he and another guard carefully carry Heath to a small outpost a little ways down shore. The sight of his blood pooling in the sand makes me dizzy and I feel my knees start to buckle. Flynn catches me and I relax into his arms. I notice that his shirt is saturated with blood and I frown as I catch sight of the wound, remembering that he also was stabbed. "You need to get someone to look at that," I mumble, but Flynn brushes me off.

"No, I need to be here with you. I'll be fine." I don't have enough energy to protest, so instead I rest my head against Flynn's shoulder, ignoring the curious looks the guards are giving us, I just can't bring myself to care right now. Almost apologetically, one of the guards steps forward to bring our attention back to reality. "I know you both must be exhausted and I hate to question you after what you've been through these past two and a half weeks, but the PSC needs to know what happened in there." Wearily, I drop to the ground and sit pretzel legged in the sand, Flynn sits next to me, never letting go of my hand as I begin to tell our story. I edit it to omit the parts of me meeting Flynn, giving a generic tale about getting lost on Murderers and having to find our way to freedom. Flynn says very little, leaving most of the talking to me, and when I'm done, I think we have the guards convinced.

"We're going to get you back to Innocents now," one tells us, her voice sympathetic, "We'll send you back with shift change in fifteen minutes. Don't worry, you're safe now. It's all over."

"Thank you," I say, hearing the relief in my words. It really is over. I can almost feel the weight of the fear and anxiety that I have been living with be lifted from my shoulders. Free. I close my eyes, as the relief hits me.

"How is the injured boy who was with us?" I hear Flynn ask. I tense again, dreading the news the guard might bring. "We stopped the bleeding for the time being, and bandaged the wound. But the knife damaged several muscles and we still don't know the full extent of the injury. He's going to need surgery back at Innocents." The guard replies. At least he's going to survive, I think. Flynn seems to be thinking along the same lines because he relaxes, resting his head against my shoulder, his thumb tracing a circle on my palm. We stay this way until the Murderers guard comes to tell us its time to go.

Flynn helps me to my feet and I brush the sand from my clothes. Waiting for us at the dock is a pontoon boat identical to the one that took me here. I shudder at the memory; so much has changed since then. I have witnessed countless murders and my own hands are stained with the blood of others. Already on the boat are two Murderers guards that I haven't seen before, waiting impatiently. Heath is resting on one of the benches, still unconscious, his leg wrapped in a heavy bandage. As soon as I step onto the boat, I sink onto one of the benches, staring off across the ocean. Somewhere out there is Mainlands, where Flynn and I can finally be free of fear; start over, have a life worth living. One of the guards starts the engine and soon we are on our way back to Innocents.
Chapter 23

The first half of the trip passes in a daze. Somewhere along the way, Flynn comes to sit next to me, his presence comforts me. I lean against him and close my eyes, feeling like I could stay this way forever, but as I brush up against his side, he winces and I immediately sit up.

"You never had anyone look at your cut," I say reproachfully, "It could be really serious."

"I've survived worse," Flynn says unconcernedly but I refuse to let him ignore it.

"Will you at least let me look at it?" I demand and Flynn sighs and rolls his eyes. Resignedly, he lifts his shirt, uncovering a gruesome stab just below his ribs.

"Flynn!" I gasp staring at the horrific sight.

"It's okay," Flynn reassures me, "It just looks bad, it's really not that deep."

I try to keep my composure, aware the one of the guards is watching us curiously.

"We need to get this washed. You could get an infection." I say shakily.

"It can wait until we are back at Innocents," he assures me. He gives me a grim smile, "I think I can stay alive that long."

"You'd better," I grumble not wanting to say any more, noticing that the guard who was watching us before has come up behind us.

"That's quite the scar you have there," the guard says, gesturing to the scar spanning across Flynn's chest. Flynn hastily drops his shirt to cover the mark but the guard is still watching him. "What's the story behind it?" Flynn eyes him coldly and I silently beg him not do to anything that would make the guard suspicious.

Thankfully, Flynn keeps his cool, "I got in the middle of a fight before I came to Innocents, ended up getting cut pretty bad."

The guard narrows his eyes and I find myself getting uneasy. Does he somehow know that something is wrong? "You look familiar, what island where you assigned to before coming here?"

I jump in, "He was a maintenance worker on Addicts," I say, hoping my interruption won't cause too much suspicion. The guard glares at me and I swallow hard, something is clearly wrong.

"And who was your instructor back on Innocents," he inquires. Flynn frowns and my mind anxiously searches for a way to avoid the question. I notice that Flynn's hand is casually moving toward his belt where he usually keeps his knife hidden. I slowly reach for my own knife but freeze when I realize the familiar weight is missing from my hip. A memory surfaces from my brain, the Murderer's guards taking our weapons after we made it through the gate. We are completely unarmed. Flynn seems to realize this at the same moment I do, and for the first time, his dark eyes look nervous.

"Listen," he tells the guard, "We just spent two weeks on Murderers, seeing our friends killed right in front of us; we really aren't in the mood to answer..." Before Flynn can finish his sentence the guard makes a sudden movement his hand diving to his waist withdrawing a black metal object.

My blood goes cold, it may have been twelve years since I last saw one, but I recognize a gun when I see it, and right now, it's pointed directly at Flynn's head. The guard's partner abandons his position at the steering wheel looking confused at the sudden tension that has filled the boat. He draws his own gun but keeps it awkwardly at his side as though unsure what to do with it.

"Hey, what's going on here, Shamus?" he asks bewilderedly. Shamus, the guard who has his gun pointed at Flynn, doesn't take his eye off Flynn.

"I've seen this one before; it's been bothering me ever since they came on board. I just assumed I knew him from around Innocents. But just now it came to me; I remember where I've seen him. It was on Murderers, about a year ago. He came up to the fence, offering to trade information on the clan leader of the Domus, Marek Holden, in exchange for supplies. This isn't the Innocent, Calder Schultz, this is Holden's personal guard, or at least that's what he introduced himself as at the time."

The second guard curses under his breath but remains where he is at.

"What do we do?" he asks nervously.

Shamus doesn't hesitate, "He's guilty of endangering the people of Innocents, attempted escape, and undoubtedly the murder of the real Calder Schultz. We must execute him for his crimes." I release a small panicked noise, and Shamus's partner turns his attention towards me, "What about the girl and the injured boy?"

Shamus studies me shrewdly, "We'll take them back to Innocents and let the PSC decide their fate," he decides. The guard near me nods in agreement and I notice his gun is still held loosely at his side. Without thinking, I lunge toward the guard, wrestling the gun from his hand. Shamus whirls around to face me and pulls the trigger.

The bullet whizzes past my ear and I escape death by a millimeter. Instinctively, I point the gun at Shamus and fire. The bullet embeds itself in his brain and the guard falls heavily to the floor, his eyes blank with death. The surviving guard is fumbling around for something; a knife, I realize. He's back on his feet, coming at me fast. Hating myself, I do the only thing left; I shoot. He falls with the same sickening thud as Shamus, his limbs bent at unnatural angles, blood trickling from a small, clean hole in his head. I slowly slide to the floor, the gun clattering to the ground beside me. My hands are shaking badly, my ears still ringing from the sound of the gunshot.

Flynn hurries to my side, his voice sounds like it's coming from the end of a long tunnel; I can't discern what he is saying. "Brie! Brie, are you okay? Dammit, Brie, answer me!" He grabs my arm and the contact is enough to shake me from my trance. My eyes meet his and I let out a strangled sob. Flynn pulls me to my feet and examines me closely for injuries.

"I killed them, Flynn" I finally manage to say; "Innocent people, and I killed them. All this time I've spent trying to escape Murderers; maybe I belong there after all."

"Listen to me, Brie," Flynn brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, "you didn't have a choice. They would have killed us if you hadn't."

"That doesn't make it okay," I sob.

Flynn stares deeply into my eyes, "No, it's not okay. But it's going to be." He says softly. I try to protest, but Flynn leans in and gently kisses me. He pulls away and gazes down at me, "I love you Brie. And I promise you that everything is going to turn out all right." And despite everything that has happened, for one moment, I allow myself the hope that maybe he is right.

###

All the Extras!

Hello my readers, 'tis I, Lena August! First of all, thank you, thank you, thank you, for reading this book. Perhaps if you liked it you could recommend it to your friends? Secondly, please stay tuned for information about the next book in the trilogy. I don't have a release date yet, but, rest assured, I _am_ working on it (when I'm not busy with college life, mindlessly staring at the TV, or reading that is). For more information about it, and maybe, just maybe, some excerpts from it be sure to check out my website.

Also, for this book, I was the author, editor, cover designer, emotional therapist for those hard to get through paragraphs, and pretty much everything else you can think of. Translation: I was pretty much the only person to read this book before it was published. Because of this, there may be a couple stubborn little typos that just refused to be noticed during any one of the multiple times that I read and reread the manuscript. If you see a typo, I would be majestically grateful if you could let me know via email.

Email: lenaaugustbooks@gmail.com

Website: http://lenaaugustbooks.wix.com/lenaaugustbooks

Thank you! Merci! Gracias! Danke! Asante! Kiitos!

(Online translators are a wonderful thing!)

