From the Flames

352 days. That’s how long it had been since Frank and Milo leveled Louisburg. I’d been hunting them down for almost a year now, and I wouldn’t stop until they were dead. But that wasn’t the only number I tracked. 

4: the number of district capitals that had been bombed. 

1 million: the approximate number of innocent New American lives that had been taken. 

76: the number of Outside settlements that had been attacked. 

594: the number of Frank’s anarchists my people had eliminated.

12: the number of lives I personally had taken since the war began.

Emmaline’s journal didn’t teach me how to deal with my guilt. I could file away the facts and figures, but there were real lives attached to those numbers. I couldn’t mourn for them. My grief would suffocate me in its grip. But I couldn’t forget them, either.

I stamped out my remorse at first. I cracked my knuckles and shook it off. They were bad people—murderers. I had to kill them to save millions of others.

But I couldn’t blot them out of my heart, because at their core, I couldn’t believe they were actually evil. No one could be entirely bad. The people I killed were once someone’s children, brothers, sisters, friends. So I allowed their memories to live on. I imagined them surrounding the pond in Morton borough—my peace point—framed in my heart. Smiling, laughing, free from the guilt of their own atrocities. It was the only way I could cope. Because if it were possible that people were truly evil, then what was I fighting for?

My hair whipped across my face, blowing wildly in the wind from my open-air vehicle. Mildred. That’s what Raf had named her before the world exploded. There was no telling how many thousands of miles Mildred had driven over the year, transporting me across the country like a fugitive. Or an assassin. Or more accurately—a ghost.

Aside from a small circle of close friends who had been with me the day of the Louisburg bombing and knew the truth, the rest of the world thought I was dead. The damage had been so severe that Everett’s home had essentially disappeared. Disintegrated. There was not a splinter of wood remaining. And the world believed I was there when it happened.

Unfortunately, Frank knew better.

He was always one step ahead. When I zigged, he zagged. I’d come close to catching him once or twice, close enough to get some of his men, but Frank was too good. He had avoided me for almost a year, and somehow, he’d managed to avoid the New American forces that were out to get him as well.

It wasn’t quite a civil war. The army would have to know who they were fighting for a true war. Instead, the soldiers set up around the cities, primarily the district capitals. They cleared out as many Outsider camps as they could find, assuming the Embers were the enemies. They forced our people to become nomads, constantly on the move to avoid their attacks. Little did the government know that we shared a common enemy. The Embers weren’t responsible for this devastation. Frank was. And I was going to kill him for it. I just had to find him, first.

I slowed Mildred and veered right onto a bumpy forest trail. If there was a place I could call home, this was it. Or this was my home the last time I was in the area of Classen City, anyway. That was almost two weeks ago. Raf may have been forced to move everyone again, but I knew I’d find a note left for me if he had. 

Half an hour later I saw the first tent, set up at the edge of a small clearing near the river. The Embers were smarter now with their camps. They no longer congregated together in a city-like community, but spread themselves out, tents and wobbly wood shelters dotting the river banks. 

My heart ached for what they’d lost. Their cabins and community kitchens were a thing of the past. There was no more electricity. No more fuel. No more connections to the inside. That was all a part of the network Frank had created. He knew too much about the inner workings of the Embers. When Frank exposed himself as a traitor, we had to turn life on its head. 

I parked my vehicle and jumped out, shaking my feet to get blood flowing again through my limbs, numb from the vibrations of a long drive. Joy emerged from the tent at the sound of my engine and waved. 

“Hey stranger!” Her smile couldn’t mask the weariness in her sleep-deprived eyes. I didn’t even attempt to return it. There was nothing to smile about. “How was your trip?”

“Where’s Raf?” I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way past her, into the clearing toward the river.

Thank goodness Joy had such a kind heart. She didn’t even flinch as I stomped past her, ignoring her pleasantries. “He and Rider went down to the bend to try and catch some fish for dinner tonight.”

The bend was half a mile to the north of Joy’s tent. Raf’s tent was near the bend as well. It served as a home base of sorts for this group of Embers. There weren’t many here- just those who’d returned from Louisburg with us. Raf had his own vehicle, which he used to traverse the back roads and forest trails near Classen City.  Alongside my father, he’d become the new co-leader of the Embers in the area, but this small camp was the only group who knew I was here. I had to keep a low profile if I stood any chance of catching Frank.

Two dark heads of hair sat alongside the river bank, the straight cuts of their fishing lines extending from the tips of their poles into the rippling water, invisible except for a shimmer from the sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead. Raf turned, sensing my presence well before I reached them.

I dropped my bag in the dirt and motioned silently toward his tent. He planted the end of his pole into the muddy bank and whispered to Rider, who glanced casually over his shoulder and greeted me with a simple nod. 

Raf stood and jogged over to meet me at the entrance to his tent. I didn’t even wait until we stepped inside before grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking his face down toward mine. I kissed him forcefully. And apparently, aggressively, because he stumbled backward through the tent and fell onto the hard ground.

My mouth, suddenly cold without him pressed against it, urgently sought him out again. I met him there on the ground, keeping his body pressed down with my own, escaping again into the blissful, albeit momentary, memory-loss that came with kissing Raf. 

When our lips moved together, nothing else mattered. The rest of the world melted away—the explosions, the tears, the death, the fighting. All of it was buried deep under a thick layer of fog, and I longed to stay in the freedom of Raf’s arms for as long as possible.

He pushed against my shoulders, trying to catch his breath, but I grabbed his arms and pinned them to his side, pressing my mouth against his again. 

“Claren, hang on,” he mumbled against my lips. I pulled back just barely, breathless as the tips of our noses brushed so lightly together it tickled. 

“Hi.” He grinned.

I dipped my mouth back to his, but he dodged my hasty attack of affection, rolling over so that he was now pinning me to the ground. His smile widened as he held me in place.

“I hate to push pause on this, but how about a ‘hello’ first?”

I groaned. “Hi.” My tone was tinged with impatience and irritation. It had been a long trip. I just wanted to forget everything for a few minutes and relax. Was that so much to ask?

Raf furrowed his brows. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I quipped too quickly. I looked away, feeling the energy between us shift. 

He released my arms, leaning back to rest on his knees. “Claren, it’s okay. Talk to me.”

I hated the sympathy laced in his words, the pity in his eyes. I sat up and scooted away from him, quickly locating my peace point and blotting out the twisting feeling worming its way through my gut. Eyes closed, I inhaled deeply, allowing the pine scented air to slowly fill my lungs. But try as I might, it was never enough to cover the guilt.

 “How many was it this time?”

I opened my eyes to find Raf staring thoughtfully in my direction. “Three.”

“Good.” He nodded, trying to believe the word himself even as he repeated it. “Good. That’s three fewer men for Frank to use against us.”

Three fewer men who had died at my hands. I knew Raf was thinking it too. But he praised my actions. It was easy for him to congratulate me. He wasn’t buried under the remorse that came with taking someone’s life.

I changed the subject. “I recruited another group from the Blue Valley area to join the Embers, but I don’t have any more communicators. Do you know when we can expect another crate? And do you have anyone who might be able to go out and provide them with some defensive training? I taught them some basics, but I had to keep moving.”

“I’ll talk to your dad. I’m sure he’s got some guys ready to go out. Unless you want to talk to him?”

“No.” It wasn’t even a question in my mind. My father had made it crystal clear that he wanted me inside, working within the Leadership. But that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Not anymore. Even if it meant I was essentially dead to him, I’d rather him remember me as the good daughter who followed instructions than fight with him daily about my role in the Embers. I made decisions for myself now.

“Right.” Raf scratched the back of his head. “I figured as much. I’ll talk to him, but when I get back, I hope you’ll stay around for a bit. You’ve been going non-stop since the snow melted. Rest here for a while before you hit the road again.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You’ve built armies across the country. The Embers are stronger and better trained now than they have ever been. Let them continue recruiting and training on their own. You deserve to rest. You deserve a life, too. We deserve a life.”

“There is no ‘we,’ Raf. I’ve told you a million times. I have one job to do and one job only.”

He closed his eyes, but quickly opened them with a forced smile. “And you do it well.”

I scoffed, feeling a quick stab of Raf’s pain before filing the emotion away. If I were doing my job well, Frank would be dead and our country wouldn’t be attacking the Embers. There would be no war. People wouldn’t be dying daily. No, I wasn’t doing my job well at all. 

“I’ll leave again tomorrow. Will you check about the communicators? I need to deliver them.”

Raf stood and sighed. “I’ll check. And I’ll talk to your dad. Get cleaned up and take a nap. Dinner’s at sundown.”

A lump rose in my throat as I watched him exit the tent. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I couldn’t allow his feelings to affect me. To feel emotion was weakness. I swallowed the lump and stared down at my dry, cracked hands. 

I wouldn’t be weak. I couldn’t.