The Wounded (The Woodlands Series) by Lauren Nicolle Taylor Page B

swell of anxious people. A hand grabbed mine and pulled me in from the edge.
    “Don’t let go of me,” Pelo said. I didn’t. I held on tightly as we made our way back to the edge of town.
    We got to the other side ahead of most of the others. Just in time to see Joseph sprinting around the edge to where we had last seen movement. Now there was none.
    Alexei bound ed behind him, a thin, white streak against the dark green trees.
    Through the wind, through the screeching, the dust sticking to our throats like talcum powder , his scream cut through.
    “Apella!”

     
    Something struck in me like a match. Ap ella, Apella, Apella. A song. A sound. Hope. Life.
    I dropped Pelo’s hand and face d him.
    “Can you take Orry home ?”
    He seemed surprised and flustered by this request. “I… I don’t know where you live,” he stuttered. “Where are you going?”
    I p atted his arm. “They know,” I said as I gestured around me. Someone nodded behind me.
    I glanced back at Joseph. He had stopped running and was squatting down by the edge. Once they hit the town side, others had started to run towards Alexei and Joseph perched on the edge. We couldn’t all go. I had to get there. I had to see if it was her. I had to help.
    I handed Orry to Pelo and pressed both my hand s against them, wrapping them together. “Please do this for me. My family is over there.”
    He looked upset, left out, but his face forced a smile. “Of course. Of course. You go.”
    Orry whimpered a little in the arms of a stranger. Pelo held him tightly as he watched me run away.
     
    *****
     
    Heat glanced off my back as my steps pressed desperately into the slurry ground, although the sun was a presence rather than a force. The heat was my fear and hope burning into my skin. I slammed into the scaffolding propping one of the ramshackle buildings up, as I spun sharply towards Joseph and Alexei.
    Quickly and without warning, the trees took over and I was winding my way in and out of thick, rough evergreens and crunching down on pine needles, the smell of sap and dirt slowing me down. The thought that it wasn’t her slowed me down further.
    When I reached the place, about fifty people had crowded around the spot we’d last seen movement.
    “Where’d they go?” o ne man said.
    “Maybe it was a trick of the light.”
    Joseph’s voice rang out above the many bobbing, searching heads, and I followed it. “No. I saw her.”
    Alexei s tood next to Joseph, his eyes skimming back and forth. People were starting to pull away from the powdery ash edge as they gave up.
    I pushed my way to Joseph and sat beside him, scanning, looking for some sign of movement.
    Everything was b lack, black, black. Where did they go?
    Black… black… pinkish white…
    I lifted my hand and pointed shakily. There, cutting through the black, was the thinnest sliver of pink-white. It stretched up, the ash sifting and spilling over it like water. A slender white hand. A tattoo on the wrist.
    I gasped rather than spoke, “Apella.”
    Alexei was hysterical. Fear and excitement made a mess of his thoughts and actions as he danced back and forth across the bank
    Joseph rose. “Rope. Get some rope. Now,” he ordered.
    V oices carried the request, and rope appeared arm over arm until it reached us.
    Apella revealed herself, flipping onto her back , taking a long, raw breath, and then coughing and spluttering as she tried to exhale. Her eyes were lined with black, her mouth and nostrils clogged with ash.
    I made eye contact. She was so close, no more than ten meters down the edge.
    She blinked and listlessly moved one arm, trying to find something to hold on to. We all watched in horror as she skidded further down towards the center.
    I snatched the rope and threaded it around the tree, grabbing glances at Alexei’s panicked face. If he had to watch her die, he would end like a bad book. I tested the strength of my knot and then threw the rope down the cliff towards Apella’s