The Release

I knew that voice. Had dreamed about that voice.

The actors hesitated, unsure if they should go on or not.

“We need to leave,” the voice said again, and the audience laughter came to an abrupt halt.

Heads turned. Standing by the back door, concealed in shadows with a hoodie drawn tight around her face, was Hope. It had been forever since I’d seen her, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach.

“We know that, Hope,” Flush said, stepping toward her. “That’s what we’ve been talking about in our meetings.”

“I mean soon.”

“Exactly. Once the snow melts—”

“Tomorrow. The next day at the latest.”

Jaws hung open. Eyes widened. We’d just lived through the most dangerous year of our lives … and she was proposing something to top even that.

“You’re kidding, right?” asked Flush.

“I’m not.”

“But we’ve got three Less Thans who can barely get out of bed. It’s the middle of winter, the snow’s practically to our knees, and we don’t have nearly enough food to take with us on a trip.”

Others began chiming in; everyone had an opinion and wanted to voice it.

Hope listened to it all, calmly nodded, then walked down the aisle toward the front of the mess hall. She tossed two objects onto the stage, where they landed with a muffled thud. The two actors backed up and everyone grew quiet.

“What are those?” Flush asked.

“Mice,” she said.

“So?”

“The wolves killed them.”

He shrugged. “Wolves kill mice all the time.”

“They didn’t eat them.”

It slowly sank in what she was getting at.

“They’ve developed a taste for humans,” she went on, her voice eerily calm. “They’re no longer interested in other animals. It’s people or nothing.”

Her words were followed by a silence louder than the avalanche.

“That may be true,” Flush said, “but that doesn’t mean—”

“We leave tomorrow,” she insisted. “We rejoin the Sisters we left behind at the lake and go from there.”

An LT named Sunshine let loose a high-pitched laugh. “Now you’re dreaming. Like we’re gonna be able to make it all that way—especially with them.” He pointed in the direction of the infirmary, housing those Less Thans still too weak to walk.

“We’ll get there,” Hope said.

“Right. And the world’s flat.”

I understood where Sunshine was coming from, but Hope was right. If we didn’t leave soon, there was a chance we wouldn’t leave at all.

Again, a chorus of voices chimed in, most claiming that Hope was being alarmist. Chicken Little, and all that.

I listened to the debate, then looked at Hope to gauge her reaction. But she’d already gone, slipped out without anyone noticing.

4. (#u3239141b-d125-57b8-8ebc-3ff8b1da0d77)

IT WAS FOOLISH, LEAVING the tent like that, exposing herself to the stares of others. But after examining those mice, Hope knew things that others didn’t. If she didn’t say something, they’d wait until springtime to leave and then it’d be too late. That’s why she spoke up.

Well, that’s the main reason. There’s also the matter of unfinished business.

She’s preparing to go to bed when she catches a glimpse of herself in the shard of mirror that hangs on a side wall. She stands there a moment, studying her face. Each time she happens to see her reflection, she is startled. The Xs are as unsightly as ever. As though it’s someone else she’s looking at, some stranger. Definitely not Hope.

She draws her arm back and sends an elbow flying, smashing it into the mirror. The glass shatters, obliterating her reflection. Blood drips from her elbow.

As she wraps the wound in cloth, she wonders if they can do it. Can they really make it all the way to Helen and the other Sisters, huddled in Dodge’s Log Lodges on the shores of a distant lake? Can they cover that kind of distance with little food and no shelter?

She snuggles beneath a thin blanket on the floor—a bed would be entirely too foreign—and as she does most every night, she fingers the locket around her neck. She can sense the stares of her mom and dad from the miniature photos.

Not for the first time, her fingers edge away from the locket and move toward her face, tracing the raised scars on her cheeks, down one diagonal and up the other. The two Xs remind her of what she wants.

Revenge.

For her mother. For her father. For her sister, Faith. It’s not that she doesn’t want to escape from the territory and save the country and all that other rah-rah stuff. But mainly she wants revenge. And she will get it … or die trying.

She settles in for sleep, comforted by the soothing tap tap of raindrops on the tarp. As she’s drifting off, she remembers Book’s expression when she threw the mice on the stage. He was as surprised as everyone else, but she got the feeling, from a single glance, that he agreed with her. Which is why she was hurt he didn’t say anything in support of her. Still, even if he had—

She jolts up in bed.

Something’s not right. She replays her thoughts, stopping when she remembers the soothing sound of raindrops. Straining to listen, she hears it again: tap tap. It sounds like raindrops, but there’s no way it can be raining—not in the dead of winter. She whips into her clothes, grabs her bow and a quiver of arrows, and hurries out of the tent.

The night is cold and clear. No moon, which makes the stars glimmer extra bright.

Now that she’s outside, she can hear the sound more clearly, and she realizes the tap tap is more a pitter-pat, a muffled padding. As much as she doesn’t want to believe it, she knows the sound. A wolf. When they run, they do so on their toes, but when they stalk, their whole pad hits the ground.

This one’s stalking.

Hope follows the sound, her moccasins slipping through freshly fallen snow. The tendons of her knuckles glow white as she grips the bow. She still can’t believe it. How did a wolf get past the ring of fire?

She comes upon a single set of tracks. Even in scant starlight, she’s able to make out the distinctive wolf print: the triangular pad, the four oval toes in perfect symmetry. The good news is that it’s just one wolf. The bad news is that it’s big. The paw prints are larger than the palm of her hand.

She picks up her pace, her breath ballooning in front of her. Rounding the corner of a hut, she comes to a small intersection. Before her is the infirmary. The wolf prints lead right to the flap that serves as the lone entrance.