Once by Anna Carey Read Free Book Online Page B

hands.
    The young soldier slowly got up, gesturing for the scarred one to retrieve something from the woods. He staggered off, his hand still clutching his neck. I turned to Arden. She was curled on the ground, crying, her eyes locked on Heddy. “It’s okay, girl,” she whispered. Her cheeks were wet and splotchy. “I’m here, girl. I’m here.” The dog’s whines grew louder as she dragged herself forward. Blood was streaming down her limp hind leg.
    The air filled with the grating, familiar sound of a Jeep’s engine. The scarred soldier pulled the truck out of the woods into the empty lot, while the two others loaded us, one by one, into the back bed. “Enough,” the pale soldier yelled at Arden, unable to stand her crying any longer. “I can’t listen to this.”
    The scarred soldier spun the Jeep around and started back toward the highway. “We can’t leave her like that!” Arden’s voice was choked with sobs. “Can’t you see she’s suffering?”
    I pulled at my restraints, wishing I could hold Arden and comfort her. The tears soaked her hair and shirt. But the men ignored her, their eyes on the ramp that led back to 80. She threw herself into the backs of their seats and screamed. “You can’t do this, you can’t leave her,” she cried. “Kill her, please, please, kill her,” she repeated, over and over again, until she was out of breath. Exhausted, she leaned her head against the seat. “What’s wrong with you? Just put her out of her misery.”
    The young soldier put his hand on the driver’s arm, signaling for him to stop. Heddy’s painful cries filled the air. She licked at her side, as if trying to stop the blood.
    The young soldier got out and walked across the parking lot toward her. He didn’t flinch, just raised his gun. I turned away. I heard the blast, saw Arden’s crumpled face, and felt the air go still and silent.
    As we drove away, Arden buried her face in my neck, her body heaving with quiet sobs. “It’s okay, Arden,” I whispered in her ear, my head resting on hers. But the tears only came faster, her cries inconsolable as the Jeep moved east, into the rising sun.

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    FIVE HOURS LATER, THE JEEP CAME TO A STOP OUTSIDE A WALL nearly thirty feet high, ivy snaking up its stone front. My skin was sweaty and sunburned, and my hands and feet had gone numb from the restraints. I squinted against the sun, awake and alert. Months on the run, so many near misses and escapes—none of it had mattered. I’d ended up here anyway. The City of Sand.
    â€œArden—wake up,” I whispered, nudging her in the side. She had fallen asleep a few hours into the trip, her sobs giving way to exhaustion. Her face was red and streaked with tears, her eyes nearly swollen shut.
    â€œThis is Stark,” the young soldier spoke into a handset in the front seat. “Nine-five-two-one-eight-zero. We have her here.” I cringed at how cocky he seemed now that he had me sitting, hands tied, in the back of the truck. He’d been in the front seat during the five-hour ride, talking the driver through each turn, answering the radio whenever it buzzed. The other two glanced at him before doing anything, as if seeking permission. An hour into the journey, Arden and I had loosened the plastic ties and tried to jump from the moving car, but the soldier in the backseat caught sight of us and tied our wrists to the Jeep’s metal carriage.
    The air filled with static. “Opening the gate now. You can pull inside,” a voice replied through the handset.
    I pulled at the rope threaded through my wrist restraints. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be,” Arden whispered, looking up at the wall. Her shirt hung loose around her chest, exposing the top of the thick pink scar. “All that talk about its grandeur. A bunch of crock.”
    Those twelve