TEX

My heart thundered; hands, arms, and shoulders shook. My finger twitched, aching for a trigger. They'd goddamned killed her. I pounded the shovel into the dirt and envisioned it was Josef Arongander's throat. The temperature rose, flushing my skin, burning me alive just like they did Pop.

I gripped the shovel tighter as the images of his death rushed forward to punish me for letting this happen. The waxy-faced news anchor rattling on about victory for The Greater Good. Pop's haunting screams, muffled beneath cheering onlookers. They tied him to a stake like some Salem witch, the camera zooming in as the fire took him. I'd watched it all, to the very end, unblinking. I needed to suffer, so he wouldn't suffer alone. His skin had split, bubbled, and melted away as his body slowly shrunk in size and turned to char. I heard his screams long after he stopped. I could hear them now.

But Pop had known what was coming. He'd known his fate the minute people started chanting his name at protests.

This was so much fucking worse. Julia had no fame. She hadn't even had a fucking gun. I'd left her that morning with an apple and a full bucket of water. She'd called me a dog in heat, then waved me off like I couldn't be saved, laughing her laugh, smiling her smile.

She'd loved me. My nose ran, and I sniffed hard and clenched my teeth. The fire hit my lungs, stealing my breath. She was the closest thing to a mother I'd ever known. Better than the club whore who'd pushed me out then dropped me off. Pop passed me to Julia, and she took me. Her and Merle stuck around until I was twelve years old, and throughout that time, she'd nurtured me like those damn plants. She'd fed me, taught me, whooped me with good reason, and hugged me for no reason at all.

My fault. That was all I heard as I dug the hole that would swallow her. My fault. My fault. My fault. I'd been too distracted. Too preoccupied. I'd been too tied up in the taste of that sweet mouth; the feel of those delicate fingers pulling me closer. I'd been too concerned with finding more time alone with Fern to focus on what mattered. My job. Protecting these people. Protecting Julia.

I'd failed her. I'd shit on all she'd done for me. My lungs labored, and the burn taunted me with the fact that I could breathe, and she couldn't. Weakness caused this. Mine. I had to keep my shit together. I envisioned breaking the neck of every man in the Capitol. I thought of slowly snapped bones and pleas for mercy. Somebody was going to pay for this. The time for hiding was over.

Merle planted her with the same love and devotion she'd given every seed, and I turned away, back to the boats and the men and what came next. Fern followed my steps, and every fiber in my being wanted to turn around and scream at her to run. Run away before this happens to you. She was a weakness. She was a liability. She was a distraction.

But I wouldn't do any of those things. I needed her on that boat. I needed her within my sight, or all I'd be able to think about was whether she was okay. Was she fed, was she healthy, was she hurt, had they found her? Damn it to fucking hell. I whipped around and took her hand.

She jolted, startled, and confusion mingled with the many emotions already clouding her scent. Sadness. Pity. That sweet aroma that only belonged to her. I sucked a deep breath in through my nose and absorbed the calm it offered. "There are two boats by the ramps," I said. "The men took the wounded to the one named Lucille. I need to know, Darlin'." She couldn't leave. She couldn't stay behind. If I had to drag her on the damn boat myself, I would. But I didn't want to do that. Despite everything, I didn't want to show her just what kind of man she'd chosen to associate herself with. "Are you coming with us? Will you help?"

Her mouth shut, eyes widened, and she looked off into the trees as if asking the woods for permission to leave. I held my breath and waited, but my patience was thin. We didn't have time to think about it. We needed to go before it was all of us being left to rot.

"I'll go," she finally answered. "You go ahead. I'll get all the plants we gathered and see if I can patch up your men."

I gripped her hand tighter when she started to pull away. No lie coated her words, but that didn't mean she wouldn't chicken out and hightail it in the opposite direction. "Don't make me come hunting for you," I said. "Please."

She put her free hand over my grip and squeezed. "Don't worry."

Her voice was the softest thing I'd ever felt, and I could feel it, like a balm being spread over the burns. I was too raw to be touched. Too broken to be mended, but she acted as if she wanted to try, and that was exactly why I was no good for her.

She smoothed her palm over my knuckles and whispered, "It's our job as good people to help."

There it was. That sweetness. That purity. I lifted my free hand and palmed the smooth skin of her cheek. Tears tracked paths through the dirt there, and I wanted to wipe them away. Take them back. Fix anything and everything to make her world as beautiful as she was. But it wasn't beautiful, and if I planned to fix anything, I'd need to be just as ugly.

I dropped her hand and stepped away. "Don't take too long. Remember. Lucille. I'll be steering, so if anyone gives you trouble, just holler."

She nodded, same inviting gaze she'd had the night before. I turned away before I did something stupid. She wanted me. I could see it each time she'd peek at me from beneath her lashes, smell it sweeten that scent if I stood too close. And dammit if I didn't want her. Fiercely. I wanted to know her body the way she knew those plants. I wanted her to teach me with soft sounds and sharp breaths, and I wanted to pull my name from her lips until it was the only one she remembered.

She was standing behind a locked door, begging a burglar to break inside. She had no idea just what I would do with someone as goddamn sweet as her. I had a list of ideas a mile long. But I wasn't what a girl like her needed, and I couldn't spend any more time pretending that I was.

Maurice sat amongst the carnage inside camp, blood caking the fur on his back. I inspected the wound. "It's just a graze."

"I know," he said, voice low.

I scratched from his ear to his jaw. He looked just as bad as I felt, and I wished I didn't have to leave him like this. "I need you, Maurice. You've got to get the bears past the line. Gather them up and take them to the cave where we used to keep the boats. Can you do that?"

He glanced up and sighed, then lumbered to his feet. "You're going away."

"Not forever." I stepped into him and hugged his neck. "Just for a while. I'll get a bigger boat, then I'll come back for all of you."

He rubbed his head into my neck and blew out another breath. "Promise?"

"I promise." We broke apart. "Now, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get the bears and take them to the cave. Then I'm going to wait while you get a bigger boat."

"Good boy." I scratched him a final time. "If you see any suits, you act like a normal bear. No talking. Understand?"

"I understand." He turned away, steps slow, and head hung down, but headed in the right direction.

Hopefully, so was I.

* * *

FERN

For two weeks, from morning to sunset, I treated wounds and battled infections. There was no reprieve. No lessons. No joy. No hunting or gathering or any of my normal. It was as if Julia had been the sun, and her death had plummeted me and everyone who'd known her into never-ending darkness.

Tex's many smiles were gone. I knew because I waited for one. I waited for that precious moment when he'd find the time to breathe and seek me out. But it never happened, and the atmosphere onboard both vessels was suffocating. It felt as if the battle had never ended. We were simply in remission, and at any moment, the killing would start again.

I'd found my place as unofficial doctor, and the only people who acknowledged me were usually too miserable to speak.

I sat down, leaning against one of the rails and placing my plate of fish on my lap. Dinner was the same time every night, and I always ate mine the same way: surrounded by people and completely alone. Just ahead on the deck, Tex sat with his men, barely touching his food as he poured over a map. "I want that boat," he said, pointing.

"It's a fucking relic, Tex. It probably doesn't even work anymore."

"It's floating right now, isn't it? It's been refurbished and preserved." Tex folded the map and shoved it inside his jacket pocket. "They used to take it out and give people tours of the river. I hear they still do sometimes, for the higher ups and their families."

"You heard from where?" a man asked. "A fairy? A dream? We're the only damn people you've been around."

"We can't keep running on gasoline," Tex continued. "Eventually, it's gonna run out, or we're gonna get shot the fuck up trying to get it. We need something with sails and oars, and something big enough to transport the bears."

"That's a lot of weight," one old man said. His voice was a slow, raspy sound that reminded me of smoke, and the grey of his hair and beard almost made me believe he was made of it. "Some of them damn bears weigh a thousand pounds."

Many of the men muttered agreement.

"That's why we need the ship," Tex said. "It says in the brochure it can hold thirty tons."

I took a bite of my fish and chewed slow as they continued, back and forth. The more Tex spoke, the more the men began to nod, and the arguments diminished.

He settled back when it was clear he'd won and lit a cigar from his breast pocket. "Once we get the ship, we go back for the bears."

"Then what?" another man cut in. "Just sail around aimlessly, hitting the other dump sites and hoping the officials don't have the same idea? If they came to ours, they'll check the others, and you can bet your ass they'll send bigger guns. We're down twenty men, now, and bullets only work the one time."

"We have plenty of ammo," Tex said.

"For how long?" the same man countered. "Two more fights? Three? If we're lucky. Doesn't matter anyway without the men to fire them. What happens if we get to the next dump site, and they've got a fucking artillery waiting for us? What then?"

A rumble of agreements echoed him.

Tex took a long drag and blew it out his nose. "If I ever need someone to make a shopping list, I know Isaac is great at pointing out what we need."

Merle snorted.

"We've always needed more men," Tex continued. "We've always needed more guns. When we need something, we go get it. This is no different."

"He says we'll go get it." Isaac shook his head and laughed without humor. "Like it's fucking canned soup. Where, Tex? Tell us? The towns are empty on the raids. All the people are either dead or taken."

I couldn't help but agree with Isaac. Things were too far gone. Anyone we did find would likely sooner turn us in than risk being the next to fall.

Tex leaned forward in his chair and looked around the group. I wasn't the only one who thought it was hopeless. The men murmured amongst themselves, adding details to the picture Isaac had painted.

Tex allowed it for a moment, then interrupted with a resounding, "We go to Savannah."

The silence that followed made me stop chewing. His answer had been a bomb, and the men sat stunned, unable to process the explosion. The scrub of someone's chair offended the quiet, and a bottle clattered to the deck. They stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, and a part of me believed that he had. We couldn't go to Savannah. Even I knew that. Savannah was where they took the listed.

Reggie, who'd been surprisingly distant throughout the exchange, scoffed and said, "You've lost your fucking mind."

"Have I?" Tex pointed with two fingers, the cigar rested between them. The glowing red tip drew patterns through the air as he used it to punctuate each word. "Our army isn't going to come from just dump sites. Those people are our people. They're our army. Those fucking suits came into our camp. They killed our men. They killed Julia. Are you okay with that? Should we just sit back and count our losses?"

Grunts and curses rose, louder than before. Fists smacked into tabletops. Boots pounded the floor and rattled the deck.

Tex took a long drag and stood as he exhaled. "They come to us; we go to them. And by the time we're done, they'll wish they'd never known we existed."