“Roxy!”

  He had sprinted to the edge of the bridge’s entrance, feeling as if his feet had barely made contact with the ground beneath. Not quite ready to bound across the sketchy, rusted remains of what had once been a mighty structure, he stopped and yelled her name again. She turned her head to look back at him, and he expected a glare of annoyance—the feeling would’ve been mutual. But instead she had a genuine expression of excitement, of a childlike glee, her eyes wide and a smile stretched across her face. It made her look twenty years younger.

  “Come on!” she yelled to him. “It’s totally solid and safe!”

  The four strangers spotted earlier stood on the far side of the bridge, lined up like young Orphans waiting to be handed instructions for their next trial. They didn’t seem especially menacing, but they didn’t exactly scream friendliness, either.

  “Roxy, we have no idea who those people are! Get back over here!”

  She was a sweet woman, an innocent woman, a trusting woman—the biggest evidence of which had been how quickly she’d warmed up to the Orphan himself when he’d straggled up to her house weeks ago, haggard and hungry. Not once had she shown the slightest suspicion toward him. He couldn’t let her make that mistake again.

  “Please, Roxy! Just come back and we’ll figure this out.”

  At least she stopped. At least she thought about it. Beneath her, the river raged, its watery roar permeating the air along with the mist that rose like smoke from its churning surface. He didn’t want her to fall. He didn’t want her to keep crossing the bridge. She just stood there, and the seconds stretched out like taffy.

  The strangers hadn’t moved a muscle. They appeared to be talking—maybe even saying things to Roxy—but the Orphan couldn’t make out a single word. And still she didn’t move. Maybe a sudden fear had paralyzed her, a sudden realization of the rash decision she’d made.

  “Roxy?” He still had to shout to be heard over the river, but he tried to make it as gentle as possible. “Roxy, just come back to this side!”

  She might as well have been dipped in plaster and left to dry.

  A lady from the other group moved, walking forward onto the bridge, just a few feet. A metallic shriek twisted in the air when she stepped on a weak spot in the structure. It fazed her enough to stop.

  Roxy, still a statue. That decided it.

  The Orphan, being careful with each step, picked his way onto the rickety wreck and headed for his friend. Creaks and groans and cracks sounded with every footfall, but the tortured metal gave without breaking. The woman on the far side reached into a pocket.

  She has a weapon, he thought, not a doubt in his mind. He ran forward, forgetting any sense of caution. He had to save Roxy. Had to. Just like Kit.

  The Orphan remembered his lifetime of training.

  The Orphan was ready to kill to protect his friend.

  The Orphan tripped, hit his head, and fell through a gaping hole in the bridge floor.

  Roxy probably heard the splash.

  She saw her friends. There was no doubt.

  Isaac and Sadina.

  Jackie and the others were running now. All of them, even Old Man Frypan—though he was lagging behind; he yelled at Jackie to keep going when she turned around to wait for him. Miyoko was beside her, Dominic, too, Lacey right on their heels. Ms. Cowan was just ahead, shockingly fast. The other council members kept up for the most part; Carson’s long legs almost spirited him to the front of the pack. But not quite. Trish led the sprint, her speed like a four-legged animal, her movement almost a blur.

  The river splashed and roared to the right. A cloud went in front of the sun, which was almost to the horizon, casting an eerie pall over the hilly land. The bridge ahead grew bigger with each step, yet still seemed impossibly far away. Too far away.

  Isaac and Sadina stood at the west entrance to the twisted structure, two others nearby. A woman was on the bridge, maybe a third of the way coming from the east. And something had just fallen into the river, barely making a splash—it was probably a piece of steel that had jarred loose.

  Jackie knew they’d be noticed soon, despite the sounds of the river and the wind, the distractions of the open land and the twilight sky. She didn’t know what they were going to do once they got there, although they outnumbered the people who’d taken their friends.

  She ran. The others ran.

  Up ahead, the man next to Sadina turned and looked at them.

  He had to do something. He knew he had to do something.

  Things were happening so fast. A guy had just tripped and fallen through a thin gap in the bridge, falling twenty or thirty feet into the rushing waters below. The woman on the bridge had screamed but still hadn’t moved, as if she’d frozen in fear. And there was Letti, who’d taken a few steps onto the bridge then stopped, reaching into her pocket for who knew what.

  A man was at risk of drowning but no one on their side had acted yet.

  “We have to save that guy!” Sadina yelled. She started to move but Timon grabbed her by the wrist. “Let go of me.” She said it so coolly that Timon actually released her.

  “I’ll go,” the man said. “You stay here.”

  “And watch Letti slice that woman’s throat like she did Kletter?” She nodded toward the potential victim. “What is wrong with you people?”

  Isaac wanted to know the answer to that question, feeling as frozen as the terrified stranger on the bridge. Letti was acting weird. She moved back from the bridge, but instead of scanning the river for the man who’d fallen, she kept gazing at the sky, as if wondering how much rain they might get before the sun set.

  Timon turned to head for the riverbank, glancing casually back in the direction from which they’d traveled to get there. He stopped, his eyes widening. Isaac quickly spun around to see what he had spotted.

  A few hundred yards away, a group of people, maybe ten or so, were running along the banks of the river toward the bridge. They were spread out, some running faster than others, one person clearly in the lead. And he didn’t need to see much detail to know who she was.

  He had to stop himself from shouting, even though it was obvious Timon had seen the same thing. Isaac elbowed Sadina, gestured at their new visitors. She wasn’t able to hold back.

  “Trish!” she screamed, already moving toward her approaching girlfriend. Timon grabbed her for the second time in the last minute.

  “No, you don’t,” he said, his voice grinding, threatening against the backdrop of the river’s roar. “And you better tell them to stop where they are or the lady on the bridge is gonna be the least of your worries. Tell them!”

  Isaac did it for her, holding his hands up, pushing his arms away from his body several times, urging them to halt, to stay away. Not a single one of them obeyed. Trish was only a hundred meters from them, now, the rest lumbering along behind her. He could see, way in the back, Old Man Frypan trotting as if any step might be his last.

  “I warned you,” Timon said. But instead of doing anything, he looked at Letti, maybe assuming that she’d pull out the knife that had killed Kletter. But Letti was still looking up at the clouds, not the slightest sign of concern on her face.

  “Please don’t hurt them,” Sadina said. “I swear on this Godhead that you won’t shut up about that if you hurt a single one of them, I won’t care about myself anymore. If it takes my last breath to get it done, you’re dead.”

  Isaac had never heard her say anything like it in the entire time he’d known her.

  Trish was almost upon them, just seconds away, shouting Sadina’s name.

  Letti, seemingly for the first time, noticed the oncoming rush of people. She didn’t reach for a knife or anything else. With an exaggerated sigh, she sat down on the line where the steel of the bridge met the decaying surface of the road.

  “Timon, calm yourself and take a seat,” the woman said as the other three looked down at her with shocked expressions. “And whatever you do, don’t try to hurt anybody. This is exactly what we wanted. What we came here for.”

  Timon’s eyes met Isaac’s. Isaac shrugged, baffled as to what Letti meant. Timon sat down.

  Sadina ran for Trish.

  So many sensations, all at once.

  Piercing, biting cold. Clothes and hair soaked and heavy. The rush and gurgle of water from all directions. Liquid in his nose and mouth, trying to force itself down his throat. The raw, rough ache of coughing and spitting it back out. Disorientation as he spun and twisted in the river. The pain, as seemingly every part of his body smacked against the rocks.

  It all reminded him of something, in an odd place of his mind that thought about such things even as he was being whisked away from the bridge and Roxy, maybe to his death. It reminded him of the time he and Orange had stolen a couple of artillery suits and tried them without a single hour of training. The medium had been air and gravity back then, but the nausea and pain had been just as stark.

  His head burst above the water. He spit then sucked in a quick breath before dropping below the surface again. His back hit a rock; he spun from feet first to head first. Once again his face found the open air. He’d been grasping and clawing for anything to hold on to since he’d fallen, but now he saw an actual beacon of hope.

  A fallen tree on the western bank, its branches extending at least two dozen meters across the river. The Orphan grabbed one of the branches, felt his body jerk to a halt and his legs swing around to point downriver. Suddenly the force of the current was like a hundred hands pulling on his clothes, his feet, his arms, a gale of water beating against his face as he held on tightly. The slightest mistake, the slightest slip, and he’d be shot off.

  But he was an Orphan, trained from birth to defeat human and beast, nature and pain. Although he had to admit to himself they’d never said a word about being dragged down a raging river.

  He solidified the grip of his right hand, squeezing his fingers against the wet bark until it hurt. Then he released his left hand, held it against the torrent of pressure wanting to throw it downstream. He crossed over his right arm and grabbed the branch a half meter closer to the bank. He tightened that grip and released the other hand. Reached toward the bank, grabbed slimy wood again. He did this, over and over, until he brushed against the actual trunk of the felled tree, which served to deflect some of the pressure.

  From there, it was easy. Branch by branch, he pulled himself along the trunk, climbing the tree in reverse toward the western side of the river. Soon he reached dry land and pulled himself onto the steep shore, collapsing on his back; he stared at the sky, the clouds thickening, dusk almost upon them, as he coughed and sputtered to get his breath.

  A few seconds passed. Then everything came back to his wearied mind.

  He scrambled to his feet, using the massive roots of the tree for purchase. He climbed the bank until he reached a flat spot of grassy earth. And he looked.

  He’d floated at least a kilometer from the bridge, maybe more, now on the opposite side of where they’d parked the truck. The grayness of the twilight air made it impossible to know the distance for sure. And no matter how hard he squinted he couldn’t see whether Roxy was still standing on the bridge or what was happening with the strangers they’d encountered, now on the same side as he was.

  There was nothing he could do but run to find out. First, he snapped a long length of thick branch off of the tree that had saved him. He held it up in both hands, weighing it, judging it. With no other choice, it would do.

  He then left the tree behind, sprinting toward the bridge. Toward Roxy.

  My name is Minho, he thought. It gave him strength.

  Trish and Sadina had yet to let go of each other, kissing and hugging then kissing and hugging in a loop that might last another day or two. Old Man Frypan had been the last to arrive at the bridge, breathing so hard that Jackie had to look away, terrified he was going to collapse with a heart attack. Maybe if she didn’t watch, he’d be okay.

  Instead, she focused on the woman and strange man sitting at the foot of the bridge, the people who’d taken Isaac and Sadina. At least she assumed that’s what had happened. The strangers didn’t say a word and Isaac was too busy greeting all the friends he’d probably thought he’d never see again. Or maybe that wasn’t the case at all. This hardly seemed like a rescue and she was very confused.

  Dominic had given Isaac a good old-fashioned bear hug, lifting his friend off the ground and swinging him around three times until both of them were probably nauseous. Now Dominic came up to her, and then Miyoko joined them as well. The three of them watched the ongoing reunions as Sadina finally realized that her own mom was waiting to get a hug herself.

  “A half hour ago it seemed like the world was ending,” Jackie said. “Now it’s like we’re back on the island about to have the midsummer festival. Our lives are not normal.”

  “I don’t get it,” Miyoko replied. “I mean, who are those people?” She gave a stiff nod at the strangers who looked on with faces devoid of expression. The big man was not pleasant to look upon.

  “Why don’t we ask them?” Dominic didn’t wait for a response before walking toward the spot where the man and woman sat. Jackie and Miyoko had no choice but to follow him. “Who are you guys?” It wasn’t the best of greetings but certainly got to the point.

  The man, one of the largest people Jackie had ever seen, was the one to respond.

  “I’m Timon, this is Letti. You want answers, ask her.”

  “Okay,” Dominic replied. “Lady, can you give us some answers?”

  The woman didn’t respond, just looked up at the sky as if she were bored.

  Jackie decided that a little tact might rescue the situation. “My name’s Jackie, this is Miyoko, and this is Dominic. You can obviously see that we’re friends of Isaac and Sadina’s. Did you . . . were you the ones who took them? Did you kill Kletter?” Tact be damned. Remembering the sight of Kletter’s bloody throat washed tact into the river.

  Before anyone could answer, Dominic made a strange gasping noise and pointed toward the middle of the bridge. “Um, who is that?”

  Jackie had almost forgotten about the woman she’d noticed earlier, standing there as if frozen, stuck closer to the other bank. She must’ve overcome her apparent fears because she was now picking her way across the treacherous skeleton of the bridge, well over halfway.

  “That doesn’t look safe,” Miyoko whispered. “Should we go out and help her?”

  The woman named Letti stood up and brushed off her pants. “I’ll do it.”

  “Wait,” Jackie said. “I think she’s going to be fine.”

  The stranger had regained a lot of her strength and confidence, almost bouncing from foot to foot as she picked up speed. They all stayed silent and watched as she got closer and closer. The woman was probably around fifty years old, but judging by the lines on her face and the weariness in her eyes, life had put up a hard battle.

  Finally, she made it. Leaning down to catch her breath, she sputtered out some words. “That was not easy, folks. Not easy at all!”

  “What’s your name?” Letti asked. She was reaching into a small pack that had a strap slung over her shoulder. “Go on, catch your breath, that’s okay. Tell us your name, when you can.”

  The woman stood up, puffed her chest out a little—she probably didn’t appreciate the condescending tone she’d been greeted with. “My name is Roxy, thanks for asking. My friend fell off that gosh-darn bridge and I’d appreciate your help trying to find him. He’s a tough young fella so my guess is he’s fine, but . . .” She glanced around in uncertainty, perhaps wondering whether she had just walked into a pack of marauding murderers.

  “I’ll help you,” Jackie said. “All of us will. Come on.”

  But she’d barely moved one step when Letti pulled a gun from her knapsack and pointed it in the air. An actual gun. She pulled the trigger and the boom of it seemed to shatter Jackie’s eardrums and anything else that might be inside her skull. She stumbled away, her hands on her ears, cowering as if the shot might shatter a glass ceiling above them.

  “What the hell was that for?” Miyoko yelled.

  Jackie had never seen a gun before coming across the sea. She hoped to never see one again.

  Ms. Cowan, Wilhelm, Alvarez, Old Man Frypan—everybody had been slowly making their way over to the bridge. Sadina and Trish stood the farthest away, but now they came marching in. Something told Jackie that Sadina had already had quite enough of this crazy lady and wasn’t scared of her anymore.

  “Everybody just calm yourselves,” Letti said. She slowly lowered her arm and pointed the gun directly at their newest friend, Roxy, who had the bravery to keep standing tall. “Just stay where you are, exactly where you are, and I’ll explain what’s going on. Sadina, Isaac, don’t get brave on me—I’ve noticed you two these last few days. I know you think it’s time to mutiny, take over the bad lady and her giant friend. I have to say, you should be embarrassed you didn’t try it earlier.”

  Isaac was standing a few feet from Jackie, having stayed quiet through all the new developments. But he bristled at this. “Whatever, Letti. We knew our friends were right on our tails and we’re not stupid. Now it looks like you’re the stupid one. What’re you going to do, shoot us one by one until we overpower you? And you choose some lady we don’t even know to be the first one down?”

  “That’s not very nice,” Roxy said out of the side of her mouth, her eyes fixed on the end of the gun. “I’m probably the nicest one here, just ask Minho. I think one of you should probably die first, actually. Should we vote?”

  Jackie liked this woman. Sense of humor till the very end.

  Letti lowered her gun, then dropped it onto the ground with a clatter. “I’m not killing anyone. Relax. I just wanted to get everyone’s attention. I only had one mission in all of this, and Timon doesn’t even know what it was. Let’s just say . . . Well, I’ll use a very old phrase I’ve read about in the history books. Mission accomplished. My job is done.”