Breaker (Unmasked #3)

42. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Breaker

15 years ago, September, Age 13

“ Was it bad?

He nods.

“ Scary?”

“ Worse.”

“How did you guys survive?”

“A cave. Not really a cave, just an alcove in some rocks. We headed west. There’s a large rock formation tucked away in the foothills a few miles before you reach the lodge. It has a water trickling through the rocks in the back, near the floor. It’s safe to drink.”

“That’s where you slept?”

Hunter nods again.

“When it’s your turn, when you go, don’t let fear take over. Remember it’s a test of your skills. To see who is strong enough to survive.

“But—

“ You already know he’ll do anything for you. The second you land, kill him. Make it quick and clean. Do it before he even knows it’s coming.”

“I can’t kill Vi—”

“Don’t drag it out, Breaker. Viper will do anything for you. Including this.”

***

We stop next to a creek and stare down at the shimmering water. It looks clear, but looks can be deceiving. I lick my parched lips, my tongue running over the dry flesh. We’ve not had water in over twenty-four hours and it’s wearing us down.

My body feels sluggish, tired, weak, my muscles sore. Dehydration would be a terrible way to go. Maybe that’s why Fallon always gives us water when he puts us in solitary.

“Do you think it’s safe to drink?” Striker asks Viper. His eyes look a little sunken and he’s rubbing his Adam’s apple like he’s imagining what that water would feel like moving down his throat.

“We have no way of knowing until we try it,” Viper says from next to me, his gaze following the thin trickle of water to the west. It’s the first water source we’ve come across. “If we get sick from it, we’ll just die faster from dehydration.”

“From shitting our brains out, you mean,” Striker says. “If we could get a fire going, we could purify it.”

“With that?” I ask. “We have nothing to put it in.”

Viper makes a sound in his throat. “Let’s keep moving. We’re bound to find something. That truck can’t be far.”

I fall instep behind him, splashing through the creek. My boots squelch in the soft mud as I follow him to the other side, Striker right behind me.

We took turns sleeping throughout the night, huddled together for warmth. As the sun rose, we set off to the west, in the direction we saw the plane. By some miracle, we came across old tire tracks and have been following them for hours. Viper calculated that based on the time it took for us to reach the clearing and the time we saw and heard the plane, we couldn’t be far from its takeoff point. He estimated that the rough terrain would have limited the old truck to a speed of no more than twenty-five miles per hour, and it seems he was right. We found tire tracks.

We keep along the tracks and continue west, away from the clearing we slept in, deeper into the woods.

And we walk, leaving the creek behind.

And walk.

Hunter told me that night how they survived the wilderness. How they found a little cutout in a large rock formation. And I hope we find it because I’m not sure how much farther we can go without water.

“Can we stop for a minute?” I ask, leaning over to rest my hands on my knees.

“No,” Viper says, walking ahead. The trees have thinned, and the tire ruts are deeper, more like a regularly traveled dirt road. “We keep going.”

“I’m tired too, Vipe,” Striker says, leaning a palm against a tree. “Let’s rest.”

“If we stop, we die,” Viper says, still walking ahead. “And that’s not happening.”

“Viper,” Striker calls.

Viper turns, arms spread out, face contorted with dread. “I said no,” he snaps, glaring at Striker, then me. “We keep going until we reach the truck.”

“We don’t even know if it’s out here,” I point out.

“And where would it be?” Viper asks. “They took off in a plane and had to leave the truck. If we find the truck, we can drive it—”

“Where?” Striker asks. “And what happens if we run out of gas?”

“Or if they didn’t leave the keys,” I say, which earns me a glare from Viper.

“We’ll hot-wire it,” he says, marching toward me. “Now get your ass moving, Break. Or I’ll fucking—”

“What is that?” Striker asks, pointing behind me.

My arms tingle and I turn, moving away from Viper, who’s still stalking toward me, but he hesitates as his eyes follow Striker’s pointed finger.

That’s when I see it.

My stomach lurches. A shivery sensation snakes up my spine, wrapping around my chest, and clawing at my neck. It spreads out, moving over my shoulders, then down my arms, causing a tingling sensation in my hands.

“Viper,” I whisper, barely able to form the word.

“Fuck,” he says, grabbing my arm and dragging me back against him. “Don’t fucking look.” I feel Striker’s body crash into mine. “Neither one of you look.”

He turns me to face him. My vision blurs and my face growing hot. My heart thunders, beating so hard that it’s pounding through me and stirring up my gut. I think I may be sick.

“Vipe.” I hardly recognize Striker’s voice. It’s so choked with fear. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

My cheek is suddenly smashed to Viper’s warm chest, and my eyes land on Striker’s face, contorted in a way I’ve never seen before. Brows knit, eyes wide, chin almost trembling.

Fuck.

We’re going to die out here.

It’s my punishment. God’s way of paying me back for so desperately wanting a name.

Desire is a sin. That’s what the nuns used to tell me. It’s deadly And I wanted, desired, my name so bad I did the worst thing a person could do. The only sin worse than lust is wrath. And I let it take over my body, my mind. Let wrath feed the bad things inside me and now my brothers and I are going to die as payment for what I’ve done.

“It’s okay,” Viper’s saying, and I think he’s been saying it over and over, because he’s cupping my cheeks now, looking down at me with so much fear in those blue eyes that my knees give.

“Who was he?” I hear Striker ask, but his words sound far away.

Viper’s forehead presses to mine. “Breath, Breaker. Breathe,” he says. “Keep your shit together and breathe.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’m sorry. That this is all my fault. That I’m sorry he never had a Nanny like I did. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to defy Fallon that day on the rooftop. How greedy I’ve been, wanting Father’s love again, when Viper’s never even had it at all. Not like I do. And now he never will because of the things I’ve done, but a strangled sob creaks out of my throat instead.

He presses his lips to my forehead, cupping the back of my neck., trying to keep me focused.

“We have to keep going,” Viper says, pulling me forward. He grabs Striker’s shirt and yanks him, drawing him close with an arm over his shoulder as he moves us along. “Striker, don’t look back. Let’s just keep going.”

“Who did that?” Striker asks, daring a glance over his shoulder.

He’s braver than me. I don’t want to see it again. I already see too much when I close my eyes at night.

All that blood.

“They fucking gutted—”

“Enough,” Viper barks out, catching my misstep. “We need to get to that truck.”

“Is someone going to do that to us?” I hear myself asking. “Is that how we’re going to die?”

“No,” Viper says, but I hear how his voice quakes. He’s scared too.

Striker stops walking, pointing behind us. “Someone did that. On purpose. They are out here right now.”

“Stop.”

“Someone pinned that man to a tree and peeled his fle—”

Stop!”

“Who the fuck did that Viper?” Striker yells. “Who did that to that man?”

“I don’t know,” Viper says, but I can barely hear him. “All I know is we need to get the fuck out of here, and fast.”

Viper cups my cheeks again and I realize I’m crying, sucking in air, my lungs burning, my legs shaking, my mind flashing on what’s behind us.

It’s all I can see.

Face nothing but red ooze. Arms sawed off. Flesh gone. Rope digging into the still wet tissue, keeping him tied to the tree.

Guts spilling out, covered in black flies.

I turn and heave, but nothing comes up.

“Come on,” Viper says, pulling me up and dragging me along. “Get moving, Breaker, or I swear to God, I’ll leave your ass and—”

“I’ll have to hike back alone,” I say for him.