Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (29 page)

I’m about to slip away when a Yakone steps forward, and I catch a glimpse of his face. For the hundredth time today, my heart almost fails.

It’s Rye.

I freeze mid-movement, my brain firing in a million directions. Even after seeing Lila, it never crossed my mind that I would run into Rye. His image seems to fill the whole room. Loose, brown hair. Strong arms. Steady legs. Rough, olive skin. Gun resting casually on his hip.

I jump when he starts talking, also in Kohangaere. The sound of his voice is unnerving, hurtling me back to those days when it was just the two of us alone in the forest. Before the entire world shoved its way between us.

I know I should leave and look for my siblings, but I can’t take my eyes off him. I feel almost paralyzed.

Suddenly, the Kaana with the nasally voice cuts Rye off. It takes me a second to realize he’s speaking in Spanish. It takes me another second to realize he’s speaking to me.

When I don’t respond, all of the heads in the room turn in my direction. I stare back at them, my mind overloading. My paralysis has become total, cementing my feet to the floor.
What do I do? What do I do?
I try desperately to come up with a plan, but I’m completely immobilized.

The Kaana commander repeats his question, punctuating it with a gesture of impatience, but all I can think is that Rye is looking right at me, an expression of slight annoyance in his green eyes. Any second now he’ll know it’s me.

Instinctively, I reach for Stephen’s Beretta, but instead my fingers land on a grenade clipped to the Kaana belt. As my fingers run over the cold metal, the image of Monkey’s gruesome demise flashes through my brain, spawning a rash idea. It’s reckless and dangerous and bound to get me killed, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

Moving quickly, I step into the room and pull the grenade from my belt, yanking out the pin with my hand. Keeping the pressure on the lever, I take two bounding steps toward Rye.

As I advance toward him, Rye’s eyes widen in recognition and panic. His hand moves toward the gun at his hip, but he’s too slow. In a second, I’m there. I grab his head and place the grenade between our faces.

“Everyone drop your weapons,” I yell.

No one needs to translate for me. All of the warriors slowly place their guns on the floor.

“You too, Rye,” I say.

Rye removes his gun and drops it on the floor. The loud sound of metal striking rock reverberates off the walls.

“What you want?” the Kaana commander asks in broken English.

“I want the Rangi warrior you just captured. And I want the twin children you’re holding. Bring them here.”

The commander frowns as one his men translates my request. Then he nods and sends a runner.

After the runner leaves, a charged silence smothers the room. All eyes are on us, the Yakone warriors shifting uncertainly, no doubt trying to figure out a way to disarm me and save their
Matoa
’s son. But there is none. They can tackle me to the ground, shoot me, lop off my head, but the result will be the same: the grenade will go off, taking Rye with me—along with a number of them.

I become conscious of Rye’s stiff body next to mine, the cold metal of the grenade beneath his warm breath. I don’t allow myself to wonder what he’s thinking. I don’t allow myself to think about how this might end. Even though my pulse is thrashing against my skin, I feel oddly calm.

A noise in the doorway makes me jerk my gaze around. Two Kaana warriors, the ones who were standing guard earlier, are poised in the entrance, mouths frozen open. Between them is an elderly man in a wheelchair.

Suddenly, one of the warriors raises his rifle.

“
Stop!
” the Kaana commander shouts, a torrent of foreign sounds surging from his mouth as he gestures wildly at the grenade in my hands.

The guard lowers the gun.

“Get in the room,” I order. “And lose your weapons.”

The warriors do as commanded, pushing the man in the wheelchair into a corner.

Where are they?
I wonder, a vein of anxiety beginning to fracture my fleeting composure. I feel the sweat building on my palm.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, I almost drop the grenade. I stare breathlessly at the entrance.

And then Mokai appears in the doorway, dressed in plain cotton clothing. The runner stands behind him, gripping Kai’s bound hands and using him as a shield. There are bruises on Kai’s face, but otherwise he looks unharmed. He’s gaping at me with an expression I’ve never seen.

A moment later, there are more footsteps, and then another warrior is pushing two children wearing backpacks and dirty clothes into the room.

When I see the twins, I want nothing more than to run to them. The empty look in their eyes makes me want to cry. They’re somewhere far away from here.

“Jack, Maisy,” I call in a strained voice. “Are you okay?”

“Kit?” Maisy whispers warily. “Is that you? What are you doing here?”

“Come here, you guys,” I say hoarsely. “Stand behind me. You too, Kai.”

They stare at me with wide eyes but do as I say.

“We’re going to leave now,” I say to the commander. “Don’t try to follow us.”

“Leave him here,” the commander says, pointing to Rye.

I shake my head. “Sorry. Not happening. C’mon, guys.”

“Yingo,” Kai interrupts. “We need Yingo too.”

“We don’t have time for that,” I snap.

“I’m not leaving without him,” Kai insists.

This can’t be happening.
“Fine!” I growl. “Bring me Yingo.”

The commander smiles, and I feel a warning prickle in my chest. “Trade,” he says, pointing at Rye.

“You’re in no position to negotiate,” I answer. “I can blow you all up right now.”

“No.” He smiles again and looks pointedly at Jack and Maisy.

The prickle in my chest grows stronger. He’s right, and he knows it. I won’t risk hurting the twins. I try desperately to think through my options.

“All right,” I concede. “When we’re out of the prison, I’ll give you Rye. Now bring me Yingo.”

“Already here.” This time the commander’s smile nearly splits his face. As he turns around and points to the corner of the room, the prickle in my chest reaches a frenzied pitch. Yingo is the man in the wheelchair.

I look frantically at Mokai, but he just sets his jaw. “I’ll carry him.”

“Kai,” I hiss, “this is nuts. We can’t take him.”

“We’re taking him. That’s an order.”

I want to scream that I’m the one holding the bloody grenade, but we don’t have time to argue. “Untie them,” I snap at the Kaana. The warriors remove the bonds on Kai and the twins. Then Kai steps forward and scoops a frightened looking Yingo into his arms.

“You will provide an unarmed escort for these people,” I say to the commander, trying to keep my voice steady. “To guarantee that none of your men tries to harm them. They will walk in front of us. You will walk by me. Once they are safely outside the prison, I will release my hostage.”

The commander listens to his translator and then nods. He’s still smiling, and I feel fingers of panic worming through my chest. But there’s nothing else to do at this point.

A handful of the Kaana warriors surround my siblings and Yingo. Kai gives me a nervous but determined glance; then they’re gone.

Once they leave the room, I count to sixty—I don’t want the grenade to hit them if it detonates—and then force Rye to walk with me. The commander and the others from the room flank us.

As we walk, I brave another look at Rye. His lips are pressed tightly together, and he’s staring straight ahead.

It takes only a few minutes to reach the doorway of the prison. I hold my breath as we ascend the stairs that lead out of the snake’s mouth. My fingers are wet and slippery, and I think how ignominious it would be if I were to trip on one of these steps and lose control of the grenade.

And suddenly we’re standing on the threshold, stepping out into the rain.

Ahead of us, I can see Jack and Maisy and Mokai and Yingo. They’re positioned at the edge of the jungle. The Kaana warriors who escorted them have stepped away, holding back the Yakone who start shouting when they see Rye with a grenade under his cheek.

We take ten steps forward before the commander calls for me to stop, and I turn around to face him. All of the enemy soldiers are standing in a large semi-circle around us, giving us plenty of space.

“Release him,” the commander says.

Time seems to slow down as I look into the commander’s face. I’m conscious of each raindrop that lands on my head and at my feet. The Yakone’s shrieks and curses shrink to a muted buzz while Rye’s pulse thunders in my ear. I glance up at the guard towers, at the warriors who have suddenly appeared on the rooftops of the surrounding structures, and I know that as soon as I let Rye go, they’ll shoot me and then my family. If I take him with me, I won’t be able to hold a grenade to his head and run at the same time. Eventually, his people will catch up to us and kill us all.

Unless.

I turn my head to look at Mokai, at Jack and Maisy, the siblings I thought I had lost. I drink in the sight of them dripping in the rain.

“Go!” I shout.

Mokai understands. He turns around, Yingo still slung over his shoulder, and grabs the twins’ arms and pulls them into the trees. I watch until I can no longer see them. Then I take a deep breath. They’re safe.

Slowly, I lower the grenade from Rye’s chin and take a step back. He faces me for the first time since I attacked him, and as I look into his green eyes, I’m not sure what I see. Then he turns around and walks quickly away from me.

I retreat just as quickly, though I know that it’s only a matter of moments before he’s cleared the blast range and the snipers above take me out. I pull out the Beretta and hold the grenade at the ready, but in my head, I’m counting down the seconds.

And then one of the guard towers explodes.

Before I can process what’s happened, one of the armored vehicles goes up in flames. At the same time, a torrent of automatic fire targets the snipers on the surrounding rooftops and the warriors circling me on the ground. Chaos erupts, people screaming in Spanish and English and Kohangaere.

My eyes follow the source of the bullets to the other guard tower. Hana is manning the mounted machine guns. When she sees me look at her, she salutes and sends a volley into the minefield.

As the mines explode, I toss my grenade into the turmoil of smoke and sprint after Mokai and the others. The blast provides me the cover I need to reach the trees. I push through the leaves … and fall onto my face, someone’s knee pressed against my back. Stephen’s Beretta launches into the undergrowth.

I yank myself into a roll, as I was trained to do, and kick at my attacker’s throat. But he swerves to the side, and I make contact with his shoulder instead. It’s enough to throw him off-balance, though, and as he stumbles into the foliage, I get a glimpse of Rye’s face.

Recovering, Rye steps toward me and aims a fist at my nose. I duck and kick his knee. As he leaps out of the way, I strain to reach the weapons in my bag, but he’s on top of me before I can open it. We roll through the leaves, and he slams my head against the ground. He whips a knife out of his boot and presses it against my throat.

“I need some answers,” he says.

Just then, the butt of a rifle smacks him in the head, and he falls off me, dropping his knife. Hana presses the end of her rifle against his temple.

“Don’t shoot,” Rye says, holding a hand up to the bleeding gash on his forehead. “I’m here as an ambassador. My tribe will pay to get me back.”

I frown. Rye isn’t a coward. What’s he doing? Maybe my stunt with the grenade shook him up.

“Kit, they’re going to regroup any second now,” Hana says.

She’s probably right, but I can’t bring myself to kill him. I motion for her to lower her gun.

“They won’t stop chasing us if we take him,” she protests.

“They won’t stop chasing us either way,” I counter. “This way, if they catch up to us at least we have a bartering tool.”

“Right. ’Cause that worked so well last time.” Hana continues to mutter under her breath but pulls something out of her rucksack. “Good job I nabbed this,” she says, holding out the staying stone she took from Mafia.

I lock the stone around Rye’s neck. “What is this thing?” he asks.

“It will keep you from windwalking,” I answer.

“Try running for your friends, and I’ll gun you down,” Hana warns him.

“I won’t run,” he says, anxiously fingering the chain around his neck.

I grab my
patu
and rifle from my bag and aim the weapons at Rye’s back. “Let’s go,” I say, pushing him ahead of me into the jungle.

We run as fast as we can, but our progress is slow. It’s still raining, even harder than before. The wind is barreling through the trees, making them sway dangerously. The already impassable terrain is made wilder by the leaves and debris that accost our faces. The light fades fast as storm clouds blacken the sky.

“This is bad!” Hana shouts at us over the howling wind. “Won’t be able to windwalk to the ship! Won’t get the copter either. Not in this.”

“We need to find the others!” I shout back.

As we push our way through the thick vines and fronds, I keep my
patu
ready and my rifle trained on Rye.

Then we enter a clearing, and I see them.

“There!” I point.

At that moment, four Kaana burst out of the jungle to our right.

“Contact! Three o’clock!” Hana screams. She advances toward the Kaana, peppering them with fire.

I aim my rifle, but I never get the chance to shoot. A deafening roar splits my skull as something bashes into the side of my head. I slam into the earth, gun flying from my grasp.

Groaning, I open my eyes in time to see the blurry outline of a Kaana warrior land on the ground and aim a rifle at my head. My
patu
is lying about a foot away from me. I don’t have time to reach it.

Time
. I hear Paika’s voice inside my head, remember that first day on the beach. And in an act born of desperation, I bare my teeth and roar like a dragon.

The warrior steps back, startled, and I seize my chance. Lunging to the side, I scoop up the
patu
and
jump to my feet. I whirl the club through the air, bringing it down on the Kaana’s wrist with a bone-crunching smack.

The warrior screams, dropping her rifle and cradling her mangled hand. I raise my
patu
again but then hesitate. It’s a lot easier to think about killing someone when they’re trying to kill you—not as easy when they’re hurt and disarmed. Making my decision, I step around her and run toward Hana.

A bloodcurdling shriek is the only warning I get before the warrior attacks me again, her other hand gripping a knife. I block the blow with my club, but her attack is powerful, motivated by intense anger and pain. She jabs the knife at my chest, and I reach instinctively for the air, but the wind is blowing against me. Instead, I duck to the ground and spin out of the way just in time. Her blade nicks my armor.

I try to stand up, but my foot catches on a root, and I fall forward. The Kaana advances toward me, and I swing my
patu
around to smack her foot. She jumps out of the way and kicks me in the gut. The
patu
slides in the mud, away from my fighting hand. I flip over into a web of vines hanging from the tree, my foot still caught, as she raises her blade to stab my face.

At the last second, I grab onto a vine with my hand and raise myself up to meet her, scooping up the
patu
with my left hand and jabbing the sharp edge up—right into her throat.

She staggers backward into the mud, an expression of agony frozen on her dead face.

I disentangle myself from the vines and scurry backward. I wait a moment to make sure she’s dead then step shakily away, looking for the others.

Hana has a gun aimed at Rye while she kneels beside Mokai; his arm is bleeding, but otherwise he seems fine. So do the twins and Yingo. On the ground are the four warriors in green, dead.

I sprint over to them and immediately kneel down next to the twins. “Are you okay?” I yell.

They nod but don’t say anything. Maisy is staring at my painted face, at my bloodied
patu
, and my heart knots when I read her gaze. She’s terrified. Of me.

“Let’s move,” Hana shouts.

Mokai picks up Yingo, whose gaze flits among us in panicked spasms, and Hana grabs onto Maisy. I hold Jack’s arm with one hand and grip my
patu
with the other, keeping the club pointed at Rye. We take guns and ammo from the dead Kaana—Mokai picks up a short throwing spear, and I get a new handgun—and run through the forest, pushing aside rain-slicked leaves, sliding down muddy rivulets, tripping over hidden roots. But even though we’re moving as quickly as we can, our pace is much too slow, and I can feel the tension in my chest spin into a taut line.

The storm grows even fiercer, if that’s possible, pelting us with enormous raindrops, and the wind beats against our faces.

“At least the Kaana will have a hard time tracking us,” Mokai yells.

The words are barely out of his mouth before a colossal gust of wind snaps the trunk of a tree and sends it crashing toward him.

“Kai!” Hana screams.

I push Jack to the side, shielding him with my body as the tree falls toward us. Tears spring to my eyes as the branches knock into my back, but neither of us is injured.

When the tree is still, I wiggle free and pull Jack out with me. I scan the ground, pushing aside leaves and searching for signs of the others. I quickly spot Rye, who is also unharmed, but don’t bother to grab him.
Let him run if he wants. I don’t care.
But the threat of being shot seems enough to keep him around, and he helps me pull back the debris.

Just ahead, I catch a glimpse of Maisy’s hair. I try to call to her, but the storm is too loud, so instead I struggle forward. The wind steals the air from my mouth, making it hard to breathe.

“Maisy!” I scream when I get closer. Her face is deathly white, her eyes pinched shut. “Help me!” I yell at Rye and Jack.

They help me lift off the giant branch that’s pinned her to the ground, and I shriek. Her leg is lying at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.

Immediately, I’m transported back to the
Wakemaunga
, to the little girl buried in rubble, to her small, dead body, and I can’t move.

Just then, Hana emerges from the leaves and runs toward us. “Can you feel your leg?” she shouts at Maisy. “Can you feel your leg?”

Maisy nods weakly and then throws up.

Hana digs into her pack and pulls out a syringe of morphine. “Hold her!” she yells as she jabs the needle into Maisy’s thigh. Then she removes a length of rope from her bag and ties one end to Maisy’s ankle and loops the other end around a nearby tree.

Rye grabs Maisy’s shoulders while Hana pulls on the rope to set the bone. Maisy screams.

“It’s okay, Mais,” Jack yells, close to tears. “It’s okay.”

Maisy keeps screaming. The sound shakes me back to life, and I grip my sister’s hand.

While Hana strips the leaves from a branch to make a splint, Rye unzips his armor and pulls off the shirt he’s wearing underneath. “Hold her steady,” he yells at me.

As I meet his gaze, I’m suddenly reminded of a time he took off his shirt to bind my own injury. I swallow down the memory and nod.

Jack and I keep Maisy pinned down until Rye and Hana finish wrapping her leg. I smooth the hair on my sister’s forehead and whisper reassurances into her ear, but I’m not sure she hears me.

As they finish tying off the splint, Mokai joins us, carrying Yingo. Both have cuts on their faces and arms, but they’re free of major injury.

“Don’t kill me,” Yingo shrieks suddenly.

I frown. “We’re not going to—”

“Please, don’t kill me! I’ll do anything. I swear!”

“Oh, shut up!” Hana shouts. “We need to keep going.”

“I’ll carry the girl,” Rye yells.

I shoot him a surprised look but nod. We don’t have much of a choice.

Hana leads the way, Mokai following behind with a protesting Yingo and then Rye with Maisy. I put Jack in front of me and take the rear. We run through the trees, forcing our way through the branches that scratch our exposed skin, struggling against the blinding storm. A few times I imagine I hear shouts in Spanish, and I whip my head around to peer through the water-drenched trees, but it’s pointless. I might as well be wearing a blindfold. I keep Jack close to me and hold onto the sight of Maisy’s head over Rye’s shoulder.

We run in an endless hell; the sky stays dark, and the wind grows steadily stronger. Wet branches slap us in the face. Strings of leaves catch our hair. My lungs ache from fighting the wind for oxygen. Branches fly off trees, and around us we hear other trunks crashing to the ground. I feel the wind start to pick me off the ground too.

Don’t let us die
, I pray over and over.

A high-pitched whistle streaks past my ear as a bullet embeds itself into a trunk to my right, and suddenly splinters are flying off the branches all around us.

“Run!” I scream, pushing Jack forward.

The bullets keep coming. I can’t hear them over the noise of the storm—I can only see them slam into the trees on all sides of us.

We burst through a wall of vines, and I slam to a stop. Rye and Maisy are standing on the rim of a large sinkhole. Rye points down into the black water, and I peer over the edge. Hana, Mokai, and Yingo are below us, shimmying down the long roots that dangle in the water and sliding into a grotto in the face of the rock.

“Help me get the kids down there!” Rye shouts. He positions Maisy so I can grab her shoulders, and together we lower her down to Kai. Next, we hand down Jack.

A percussion of ammunition tears up the ground behind us.

“Jump!” I yell.

Together we leap off the edge and plunge at least thirty feet into the dark pool. When my head breaks the surface, I gasp in air and look around for the others.

A second later, the sinkhole is pockmarked with bullets. Without stopping to think, I dive beneath the surface and swim deep. I stay down as long as I can. Lungs flaming, I move in the direction of the cave.

And then I have to breathe. I angle myself upward, but something jerks on my shoulders, holding me back. My bag is caught on a root. I struggle to free it, but my mind is buzzing from the lack of oxygen. Giving up, I slip out of the straps and shoot toward the surface.

When I break through the top, I get a mouthful of wind. It pummels me back into the water. Choking, I throw myself toward the side of the sinkhole. Clinging to the rocks and vines, I try to get my bearings. I’m closer to Mokai and the others, as I hoped, but Rye is back where I left him. He’s waving his arms and yelling fruitlessly—it’s impossible to hear him. I follow his gaze and realize he’s trying to get the attention of four people standing on the rim of the sinkhole. People in gray armor.