Hidden (Book 3 of the Immune Series)

Pursuit

Sakir

After Mya's break down, I make it a point to ensure she's walking beside me, not behind me. Our movements are much slower, but I can keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't crumble into nothing.

I understand her pain. I know how fragile she is right now.

Once, I was that way, barely ten years old standing in the yard of our school with Athena, waiting for Mama to come pick me up. Athena's parents walked up, smiled at me, ruffled my black hair, and then left with her. Still, I stood and waited, tapping my feet, humming the song I'd learned to memorize my multiplication facts.

Not long after Athena left, the sky cracked right down the middle, emptying a skyful of tears onto my small frame. I clutched my backpack straps and let the water drench me. When the sun started to set, I began to walk home, my concern growing stronger with every passing minute.

When I arrived home, no one was there. A note sat on the kitchen table, folded with reckless hands, uneven and messy.

At the hospital with Mama. Stay here.

Even then, I wasn't good at following directions. I threw my backpack down and sprinted across the compound, arriving as the coroners were leaving. They looked down at me from their black high horse and through half moon glasses made of glinting silver metal. With a shake of their head, the men pushed past me. Behind them, Papa stood in the lobby of the hospital with his arms wrapped around himself.

It was the first and last time I saw Papa cry.

The pain lived in the front chambers of my heart, rearing its ugly head when I fell to my lowest points. When I struggled, it grasped my wrists and jerked me further down into its Hell. I had Athena to distract me and keep me sane when the memories came back.

Mya doesn't have anyone.

We are two different sides of the same coin.

Yet, I feel her pain like it is my own. She is just a child, an injured, helpless child.

The forest around us becomes much more threatening as I accept the role of her protector. She trusted me with her life. I have to get her out of here.

Behind us, the dogs continue to bark, making me sweat.

They could be hounds, following our scent. We hadn't exactly covered our trail. How much of a head start did we have? How exactly did they know we were leaving? Unless Dr. Julien remembered she left the door open, they couldn't have known.

Maybe they were waiting. I know the president of Compound 2 used to listen in on our conversations, but with the old man long dead and Compound 2 leaderless, the age of eavesdropping was over. Did Ashford have taps all the way out here?

Mya trips on a branch, yelping and falling forward.

"Be careful," I snap, grasping her elbow. She mumbles a messy apology, dusting herself off again. Her legs are coated in mud and leaves, ravaged by the thorns of the woods. Blood beads along the shallow cuts.

As I look at the blood, dread knots in my stomach. I'm forgetting something important, but I have no idea what it might be.

I glance over my shoulder, feeling my pulse quicken. The barks come more frequent, low brays blending together.

"We need to cover our trail somehow," I blurt, walking on while I still clutch her elbow. She stumbles along behind me. I'm surprised they can't hear her every raucous step.