It’s me they want. So her plan worked, at least for her. It’s enough.
The other thing I realize, chained up back there, is that I probably won’t make it to the institute alive. My enemies need me to die. Donny needs me to die.
I hang there alone in the van, thinking about fishing with Ann. I’m back there on the downed tree with her, a pack of two. More than a pack. Back there with Ann was the first time I’d stopped being an outsider to people. It was the first time I belonged with another human being.
You’re not a wolf,she said once, and she was right.
She showed me I was human.
Complete with a heart that’s breaking. But for one shining moment, I belonged. I had somebody.
The tires hum.
The ride seems to last forever.
Alone.
The loneliness hurts more than ever. Because I know what it is to belong, I suppose.
In my mind, I’m back with her.
The van turns again—careens. I feel a little ill. It’s the drugs, the fatigue. The hopelessness is making things worse. The hopelessness can be worse than the drugs. Its fingers spread through me, deadening my soul.
And then a gunshot blasts out. There’s a pop below.
Tire. I sit up.
Lazarus—it has to be.
The ride’s bumpy, and it comes to me that the tire’s blown. The van turns and speeds up. The bumping is more pronounced. I’m bumping off the bench.
Donny’s up there—he’s either driving or directing the driver. What is happening?
More gunshots.
I can’t imagine why he’d try to get away from a man who’s trying to kill me. I’d think he’d be happy to see me gunned down and not have to answer for it. He’d fling open the doors himself.
For whatever reason, though, he’s running. We take another turn. The going is rougher. I grab the bar behind the seat. We’re off the road, maybe. Or maybe it’s the tires being shot out.
More bumps.
A crash jolts me forward, nearly pulls my shoulders from my body. It’s as if the whole planet comes to a stop.
Silence.
My pulse races. They’ll come now. I yank at my chains. I hear keys in the door. Bolts slide open, the cage mechanism unlocks.
I may be chained up for them, ready to be gunned down, but I sit up straight. I’ll meet my death head on.
I squint as daylight fills the space. Dark forms jump in.
“Bratik,” one says, coming to me.
He puts his hands on my cheeks.
More strange words—urgent, emotional. A language I don’t know. I cringe. Is he going to snap my neck? Gouge out my eyes? I could take him with just my legs if only they weren’t chained.
He pulls me into an embrace. “Bratik!”