Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Oof.” There’s a collective inhale as she drops to her knees, the knife falling to the ground.
Her palms hit the dirt next. She rasps in a breath, fighting for air. I walk over and put my hands over her shoulders.
“Do you want me to pin her?”
I make out Marcus fighting a smile through the thick blanket of falling snow. “No, you won.”
“That wasn’t a knife spar,” a male voice calls out. “She cheated.”
“She did not!” Amira cries. “Who said that?”
Marcus silences Amira with a look, then says, “Hobbs, there’s nothing wrong with hand-to-hand combat even when you’re holding a weapon.”
“It was a cheap hit. That’s not skill.”
Marcus said Vance had friends here. It’s not surprising to hear someone’s bitter toward me. I should just stay quiet and prove myself.
“You can go next,” I say, doing the exact opposite of what I should do.
“Bring it, bitch.”
I’m able to make out Hobbs, who is stocky and average height, because the people on either side of him move away. Before I can tell him to choose a weapon and join me, Marcus is hovering over him, his gaze murderous.
“Did I hear that right?” He yells directly in Hobbs’s face. “I think you just said you want to fight me. I’m right here, man. Let’s go.”
Hobbs cranes his neck to meet Marcus’s eyes. “You took her word over Vance’s. She’s one of them.”
“Vance lied,” Marcus says, his tone harsh. “And I brought Briar here because I trust her. Why don’t you call her a bitch again? See how many teeth you have left after you do.”
The ring is silent for a few long seconds, no one daring to speak.
“Sorry,” Hobbs mutters, looking away.
“Didn’t quite get that,” Marcus says.
“I’m sorry.”
Zara is back on her feet, still gasping dramatically.
“I think ... something’s ... broken,” she says.
I shake my head. “It was a solid hit to your solar plexus. I would have felt it if I’d broken anything. Give it five minutes, you’ll just be sore by then.”
“Briar.” Marcus nods toward the door to the ring.
I follow him there, more than a few people glaring at me as I go. Not Amira, though. She’s grinning at me like a proud sister. It reminds me so much of Mae that I have to clear a lump of emotion from my throat.
I meet her eyes and nod. Hopefully after this outing with Marcus, I’ll have even more to tell her tonight.
28
Do you find a walk through the forest relaxing? If so, it may be because pine trees release compounds called terpenes, which have measurable calming effects on both humans and animals. If you’re feeling stressed, a walk in the woods may help.
– Excerpt from a lecture given by Dr. Lucinda Hollis in her Plant Evolution course
“Did you think I doubted you?” Marcus asks as we walk out of camp about half an hour later.
We went into the Sub, which is what they call the underground area the tunnel leads to, and he got us each two handguns, a bow and arrow for himself and a stun stick for me.
He set the stick up to activate with my thumbprint and told me it works like a super Taser. I feel safer with it in hand as we head into the jungle.
“We both know you doubted me.” I give him a knowing look.
“I did underestimate you,” he admits.
“You aren’t the first.”
He’s leading the way back to the spot where Amira hid me in a bush, walking a worn dirt path. A line of sweat trails down his spine, rolling all the way past the waistband of his shorts.
“Do you just not like shirts?”
He grins at me over his shoulder. “It’s more than a hundred degrees. I soak every shirt with sweat by nine a.m., so I save the laundry team some work and just don’t wear one a lot of the time.”
“God, those people must have to wash so much sweaty underwear.” The thought of track marks added in with the sweat makes me cringe on their behalf.
“We have big tubs with hand cranks. A few of ’em are set up behind bikes, so right before sunrise some of the laundry people ride around camp and the pedaling turns the cranks for them.”
“They scrub their hands bloody at Rising Tide. And hardly have any soap.”
If he responds, I don’t hear it. After another minute, he stops and I follow suit. He listens for a few seconds. A roar cuts through the chatter of birds, making me break out in goose bumps.
“Lion,” he whispers. “But it’s not close.”
That’s not much consolation. But he starts walking again, so I do, too.
“Where does the electricity come from?” I ask.
He hesitates for a second before answering. “We have solar and hydro sources.”
“So if aromium is Whitman’s experiment, did he have the camp built? The Dust Walker camp?” I immediately regret calling it that. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend you.”