sheep and pigs from our barn, lug baskets of food from our kitchen, and stuff their mouths, spitting what overflows to the stones.
On the back of Glory, Mag scans the chaos, shouting orders and pointing with her staff, the young biter, Rune, loping at her side, and I wonder if she searches for us. Two biters hold my mother by her wrists and ankles, hauling her away as she twists between them, her pale hair sweeping the dirt. Angel sobs and I press her head down so she won’t see, her forehead resting on the roof, body leaden and shivering in the cold wind blowing across Heaven, one with the broken world.
“Stay there.” I touch her shoulder before I slither away on my belly across the roof to stare at the roaring fire of the men’s residence, the heat intense on my face. I snatch our blankets in a fist and snake back, dragging them behind me. She cries as I tuck a blanket around her. “I’m sorry, Angel,” I whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry no one listened. I’m sorry it’s all so wrong.” I lie on my back and use my tongue to locate the splinters of glass in my palm, scraping them out with a fingernail. Drums thump their steady beat as smoke and the scent of roasting meat blows over us. I haven’t eaten since morning and the smell is as tantalizing as it is torturous. I listen to the howling and grunting, the shrill ululation of victory, the laughter and cheers of Biters around the fires as Heaven burns. Now and again, I hear someone scream or cry out in the darkness, a distant keening behind the strident celebration, the roar of Hell, and hope that means we aren’t the only ones to survive.
10
~Angel~
A hand over my mouth wakes me with a start.
“Shhh. Shhh. It’s me.” At my vigorous nod, Rimma slowly withdraws her fingers. “We have to get down from here.”
“No,” I whimper, drawing my blanket over me. My whole body shivers with unbearable cold. Stars still linger, quivering in the vast night sky, but behind the eastern mountains, dawn pearls, stretching over the horizon. “We should stay here, Rimma.”
“We have no food, no water, Angel.” Rimma rolls her blanket up, and secures her knives and sickles in her belt. She studies her spear and leaves it where it lies. “We leave now or we’re here another day. Roll up your blanket and tie it tight.” She tosses me a length of rope.
Reluctantly, I squirm from my wool covering, never so cold in my life. I roll it up, complaining to myself as I tie a knot. Rimma frowns at my sloppy job, but her mouth stays shut. She carries our blankets to the side opposite the ladder and drops them down one at a time. They land with soft thuds. She waits, crouching among the creepers and listening. A finger to her lips, she crosses the roof and swings a leg over the edge. “Stay close.”
As soon as her head dips below me, I follow, stepping down each rung as she withdraws her hand, shaking so hard I fear I’ll slip and fall on her head. The ladder lurches, breaking from the wall in a shower of fine dust and bits of mortar. The thick vines of the creepers keep it from collapsing, holding us teetering in place as I swallow the urge to vomit. Rimma jumps the last few rungs, landing lightly, and I scramble down after her. She grabs my hand and we dart around the corner into Mag’s staff.
The butt of the staff punches me in the stomach, my breath erupting from my lungs in a sudden whoosh. Gasping, I fold over, my legs turned to water and bringing me to my knees. Mag cackles and teeters as I wheeze, her stick drawn back in gnarled fists for another blow. Behind her, the giant, Glory, wears a friendly smile, while at her side Rune studies Rimma, our blankets at his feet, the corner of his lip quirked up in amusement.
Rimma backs up a step along the wall, wild-eyed, old blood on her face from the glass. I know she won’t leave me and haven’t the breath to tell her to run.
“Well, well, what’s
On the back of Glory, Mag scans the chaos, shouting orders and pointing with her staff, the young biter, Rune, loping at her side, and I wonder if she searches for us. Two biters hold my mother by her wrists and ankles, hauling her away as she twists between them, her pale hair sweeping the dirt. Angel sobs and I press her head down so she won’t see, her forehead resting on the roof, body leaden and shivering in the cold wind blowing across Heaven, one with the broken world.
“Stay there.” I touch her shoulder before I slither away on my belly across the roof to stare at the roaring fire of the men’s residence, the heat intense on my face. I snatch our blankets in a fist and snake back, dragging them behind me. She cries as I tuck a blanket around her. “I’m sorry, Angel,” I whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry no one listened. I’m sorry it’s all so wrong.” I lie on my back and use my tongue to locate the splinters of glass in my palm, scraping them out with a fingernail. Drums thump their steady beat as smoke and the scent of roasting meat blows over us. I haven’t eaten since morning and the smell is as tantalizing as it is torturous. I listen to the howling and grunting, the shrill ululation of victory, the laughter and cheers of Biters around the fires as Heaven burns. Now and again, I hear someone scream or cry out in the darkness, a distant keening behind the strident celebration, the roar of Hell, and hope that means we aren’t the only ones to survive.
10
~Angel~
A hand over my mouth wakes me with a start.
“Shhh. Shhh. It’s me.” At my vigorous nod, Rimma slowly withdraws her fingers. “We have to get down from here.”
“No,” I whimper, drawing my blanket over me. My whole body shivers with unbearable cold. Stars still linger, quivering in the vast night sky, but behind the eastern mountains, dawn pearls, stretching over the horizon. “We should stay here, Rimma.”
“We have no food, no water, Angel.” Rimma rolls her blanket up, and secures her knives and sickles in her belt. She studies her spear and leaves it where it lies. “We leave now or we’re here another day. Roll up your blanket and tie it tight.” She tosses me a length of rope.
Reluctantly, I squirm from my wool covering, never so cold in my life. I roll it up, complaining to myself as I tie a knot. Rimma frowns at my sloppy job, but her mouth stays shut. She carries our blankets to the side opposite the ladder and drops them down one at a time. They land with soft thuds. She waits, crouching among the creepers and listening. A finger to her lips, she crosses the roof and swings a leg over the edge. “Stay close.”
As soon as her head dips below me, I follow, stepping down each rung as she withdraws her hand, shaking so hard I fear I’ll slip and fall on her head. The ladder lurches, breaking from the wall in a shower of fine dust and bits of mortar. The thick vines of the creepers keep it from collapsing, holding us teetering in place as I swallow the urge to vomit. Rimma jumps the last few rungs, landing lightly, and I scramble down after her. She grabs my hand and we dart around the corner into Mag’s staff.
The butt of the staff punches me in the stomach, my breath erupting from my lungs in a sudden whoosh. Gasping, I fold over, my legs turned to water and bringing me to my knees. Mag cackles and teeters as I wheeze, her stick drawn back in gnarled fists for another blow. Behind her, the giant, Glory, wears a friendly smile, while at her side Rune studies Rimma, our blankets at his feet, the corner of his lip quirked up in amusement.
Rimma backs up a step along the wall, wild-eyed, old blood on her face from the glass. I know she won’t leave me and haven’t the breath to tell her to run.
“Well, well, what’s
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