The Immortal Crown

CHAPTER 24

Longer Days

Once, on a campaign in an Asian province, Mae and some other praetorians had trekked across country for almost a week. They’d subsisted on barebones army rations, and without the need for sleep, they’d marched practically day and night. It had been one of the most taxing missions of Mae’s life, but as she began her third day of leading eleven girls and one woman through the Arcadian wilds, she was starting to look back on that Asian trip with new fondness and respect.

Mae knew it was wrong to hold the girls responsible for their group’s slow progress. Ordinary soldiers couldn’t have matched her pace, let alone civilian adults. To expect a group of sheltered children to keep up with a praetorian was ludicrous. Mae told herself that constantly, but the experience still proved challenging. And it wasn’t just because the girls were slower and weaker. Mae’s protective nature made her sympathetic to that. She wanted to help them because no one else ever had, and she was glad to do it. Her frustration mostly came from a sense of urgency and pressing danger. Even though the route they were taking bypassed most populated areas, they still always ran the risk of being spotted and reported. The Arcadian authorities could easily send ground troops and helicopters in, and all of Mae’s covert work would be for nothing. Would the authorities go to such extremes for a group of runaway girls? Possibly, especially since there’d been murder tied to their disappearance. Would the authorities go to such extremes for a soldier from an enemy country? Almost certainly.

And that was the question that ate at Mae during those long hours of traipsing across fields, of keeping watch while the girls slept. Today was the day the Gemmans would’ve returned home. Had they? Had Hannah gone undetected these last couple of days, and if so, had Justin gotten her into the RUNA? There was no reason for anyone to suspect Mae was responsible for the salon raid and therefore no reason for anyone to suspect Hannah had assumed her identity. The whole purpose of a Cloistered woman was to keep her out of sight. No one should have any reason to investigate her.

Guilt and worry still plagued Mae. She felt as though she’d abandoned her friends. She felt as though she’d abandoned Justin especially, not to mention sticking him with a lot of problems to patch up. If anyone was clever enough to fix the mess she’d left behind, it was him. She just wished she’d been able to give him more warning, particularly since he had his own mess with the Grand Disciple’s conspiracy.

He’ll take care of it all, she thought firmly. And hopefully afterward, he’ll forgive me.

He was on her mind a lot, and some of her musings about him were deeply personal, far removed from these political snares. She wished she’d been able to express her feelings more clearly to him before they parted and vowed to try when they saw each other again. That quiet promise drove her even harder, as did the constant knowledge that if she failed in this task, she’d not only end up in potentially lethal trouble herself but also implicate her country in hostile actions against Arcadia.

“Miss Mae?” Monica hurried up to her side as they walked through a barren field that looked like it had once grown corn. “Holly and Maria say they need a bathroom break.”

“Again?” exclaimed Mae. “We just stopped an hour ago.” Monica shrugged helplessly. “That’s what they say.”

Monica, Cecile, and a couple other girls had taken to Mae relatively quickly, appointing themselves her unofficial assistants. Interestingly, it was the girls in the middle ages, around ten or so, who were most eager to help her. Monica was the only older girl intrigued by what Mae offered. The others, having been programmed for too many years, were still too put off by Mae’s strangeness. The younger girls, including Ava, were a mix. Some were fascinated, some too cowed to stray from what they’d been taught. They all were used to responding to authority, however, which was what kept them going on this endeavor.

“Well, then,” said Mae. “They’re going to have to—” Her sharp ears picked up the faintest of buzzing sounds, and her implant surged to life. “Airplane! All of you—run to those trees, now!”

Several of the girls immediately complied, heading for the field’s edge at a hard pace. Some of the younger girls tried but couldn’t move that fast. Mae scooped up two of the smallest ones and took them most of the way, depositing them a close distance to the trees before heading back for other stragglers. One person, however, was making no attempt at hurrying her pace. Dawn, Pittsfield’s long suffering servant, strolled along as though she were walking casually through a park. Mae picked up a struggling Ava and then jogged over to Dawn after first ascertaining that the airplane—which was growing louder—wasn’t in sight yet.

“Move!” Mae yelled. “Run!”

Dawn regarded Mae with blank eyes. In the last couple of days, Dawn had tried to run away twice and had generally been difficult to manage. At first, Mae had thought she was mentally handicapped, but it was becoming clear that Dawn simply wanted a return to her old life. She was too shaped and beaten down by her world to embrace what Mae was offering, and running away from her masters with a woman went against every sense of natural order Dawn knew. Mae would have gladly left her behind, if not for the fact that her capture would prove too dangerous for the rest of them.

Juggling Ava with one arm, Mae pulled out her gun and pointed it at Dawn. “Move,” Mae repeated. For a moment, it seemed the other woman wouldn’t respond to that either, but there was familiarity in force apparently, and Dawn finally began a half-hearted jog. Their group made it to the tree line as the plane came into sight. Mae was relieved to see it wasn’t a military craft and didn’t circle back after passing overhead. They hadn’t been discovered.

She gently set Ava down, then realized the gun was still out. Feeling self-conscious under the little girl’s gaze, Mae put the gun back in her belt. “I wouldn’t have hurt her,” she said. “I wouldn’t hurt any of you. But other people might hurt us if we’re discovered. Do you understand?”

The little girl nodded, but whether it was from a need to please, Mae couldn’t say. Ava scurried off to join her friends, and Mae watched with a pang. This wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned their reunion, but she had to remind herself that Ava knew of no connection between them. They were strangers, strangers who’d been raised in very different environments. Mae had to comfort herself with the knowledge that all would change once they were safely in the RUNA.

“We might as well rest and take your bathroom break here,” Mae told her charges. “But it won’t be long, so make the most of it.” That last part was met with glum faces. They were tired of this march too, and she could hardly blame them.

“When can we eat?” asked one. Several others nodded with interest.

“Soon,” Mae said automatically.

Food had been a constant struggle on this trip, one she hadn’t foreseen. They’d set off into the wilderness with no supplies, the effects of which were becoming greater and greater each day. It was still high summer, and this part of the country was in a drought, which had proved a blessing in some ways. They were spared the effects of rain, and evenings were warm enough that they didn’t require blankets (though those might have helped keep mosquitos away). The lack of rain meant natural sources of water were running scarce, and it had been a stroke of luck when they’d found a nearly dry creek yesterday to refill their water jugs. The jugs were glass, awkward to carry, but capable of withstanding the temperatures needed to boil the creek water. That process had taken a while, but it and a strict water schedule (that the girls still complained about) had gotten them by.

They’d need more water by tomorrow, and food was an entirely different matter. The drought wasn’t supporting much in the way of plant-based food sources, and what little there was had been picked over by birds and animals. Drawing on the survival courses she’d taken, Mae had shot and cooked a rabbit yesterday, which hadn’t gone far between Dawn and the girls but had at least given them some protein. Mae had abstained, as she had from most of the food sources they’d scavenged. Praetorian metabolisms craved constant nourishment, but they could withstand deprivation if needed. For a while.

As the girls rested, Mae made a desperate decision. She pulled Cecile and Monica aside, telling Monica to keep watch on the others and come find Mae if there was trouble. Mae took Cecile with her farther into the woods, until the others were well out of sight. A large stone made a makeshift chair, and Mae settled down on it, taking out the amber knife.

“I’m not exactly sure what’ll happen to me,” she told the girl. “I think I’ll go into a trance and just sit and stare. I don’t know how long it’ll last. Don’t bother me or talk to me. Stay here and keep watch. The only circumstances under which you should try to get my attention are if Monica comes and there’s some kind of problem—a real problem. If the others are bored or hungry or whatever, then do what you can to get them through. Only bother me if there’s actual danger. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Cecile solemnly. What Mae didn’t tell her was that she didn’t know if someone could wake her out of a trance, but hopefully, they wouldn’t have to cross that bridge.

Wasting no time, Mae slashed the blade across her palm. Cecile gasped and then faded away. The forest shimmered like the scene might change, and then it stabilized and remained as it was. No—not exactly as it was. Everything was more intense—the colors, sounds, smells. It was like Mae was now in a more idealized version of the woods.

No, said that majestic voice she’d come to know. It’s just that when you open yourself up like this, you’re more in tune with the natural world.

I need to be in tune with it now so I can find food and figure out how far we are to the border. Can you help me?

Spread your wings and see for yourself, said the goddess.

Mae felt herself rise in the air and looked down to see feathered wings, like a falcon’s or hawk’s, where her arms had been. Higher and higher she went, her vision becoming sharper and clearer. Soon, the landscape spread out before her like the map she’d left behind, and she tried to superimpose what she saw now over the memories in her mind. There, to the west, was the ribbon of the Mississippi. They were paralleling it as she’d hoped. In fact, if her knowledge of other natural features was correct, following the constellation had put them on the trajectory she’d hoped for, toward a northern land bound border. Guessing the distance was trickier. On her own, Mae could’ve done it in a day. With the girls? It would take at least two, maybe three.

We’re going to need food before then, Mae thought. She descended from that lofty height, back toward her rock in the forest. Before reaching it, though, the vision slowed, showing her a change in the tree type a few miles ahead. There, in what appeared to be a dormant orchard, was a small shack.

So we’re thieves now? she wondered.

I told you I would provide you with the means to make this journey. You must make the most of them, the voice told her.

She returned to the rock, and the world’s brilliance dimmed back to reality and a nervous looking Cecile who shot to her feet when Mae blinked.

“You’re back!” exclaimed the girl. “I mean, you weren’t gone, but I thought—”

“I know,” said Mae, getting gingerly to her feet. The sun told her a little over an hour had passed. At least the girls couldn’t complain about getting a long enough break. “And I’m sorry if I—”

She cut herself off and stared in amazement at the hand she’d sliced. The wound hadn’t healed. In fact, it didn’t even have the scabbed over look from last time. The cut had congealed and wasn’t openly bleeding but still looked fresh and wet, as though it had indeed happened that day. Mae had no explanations nor time to find one and instead hastily wrapped it in a piece of cloth torn from her shirt.

She gathered up the girls, pleased to see there’d been no crisis in her absence. They continued on through the woods, finding a relatively cleared trail that confirmed the habitation shown to her in the vision. A little less than a mile from where she expected the house to be, she called another halt, something none of the girls had a problem with.

Mae pulled aside her three leaders: Monica, Cecile, and a girl who’d made her Gemman name Clara.

“I’m going to get us some food,” she told them. “Stay here, and do the usual. Keep them in line. Keep an eye on that water. I’m taking one of the empty jugs in the hopes of getting a refill, but there are no guarantees, and we’re running low.”

“Shouldn’t one of us come with you?” asked Cecile.

Mae grimaced. “Not for this. I’m hoping it’ll go smoothly, but if not, I don’t want any of you nearby.” Seeing the fear that struck in them, she attempted a lighter tone. “But everything’ll be fine, and we’ll be eating tonight.”

She left them behind and set off down the trail, which soon led to the old orchard and shack from her vision. Mae’s secret, improbable hope was that someone had left a feast behind and would be gone for days, relieving her of the guilt of taking their food. In the event of face to face confrontation, she was hoping for a peaceful negotiation. She’d found some Arcadian currency in the van, and although it wasn’t much, surely it was enough to buy scant rations.

As she approached the house, she found an older man chopping wood. His back was to her, but there was no way she could sneak into the house unseen. Negotiation it was.

“Excuse me,” she called.

He spun around with impressive speed, axe poised menacingly as he regarded her with wild eyes. Mae was a bit more startled than she’d expected. His face was almost completely covered in Cain acne, and yellow and brown teeth only added to the monstrous appearance. Not monstrous, she told herself. Just a man who hasn’t had access to adequate medical care.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but I was hoping to buy some of your food. I have money.” She held out the currency and waited. When he didn’t speak or move right away, she wondered if he could understand her. There were slight accent differences between Gemman and Arcadian English, and it was possible they were more pronounced away from the country’s urban centers.

Then, with a roar, the old man came charging at her with the axe. Mae easily sidestepped him and continued dodging his subsequent attacks. Finally, frustrated, she put distance between them and pulled out her gun.

“Enough,” she said. “Don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you.” The man halted his attack.

“Drop the axe and walk inside the house. Slowly.”

Again, there was hesitation, but he complied, so at least communication was working. “I have no intention of harming you,” she reiterated. “I’m going to pick out some food, and then I’ll leave money behind for you.”

The shack consisted of only one room, containing a cold fireplace, straw pallet, and table. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, but aside from those and the picked over bones of some small animal on the table, she saw no other signs of supplies.

“Where’s your food?” she asked.

By way of response, the man grabbed a knife from the table and charged her again. The close quarters prevented her from completely dodging the attack, and they wrestled briefly. Shooting him would’ve been simple, but Mae didn’t want to kill him if she didn’t have to. He didn’t seem like the kind of person with much outside contact who was likely to report on seeing her, and even if he did, a lone woman wouldn’t raise the red flags that one with a host of girls in tow would.

She was easily stronger than him, but the flailing of his wild attack made it hard to immediately disengage from him. At last, she threw him off her, toward the far side of the room. Her throw wasn’t that hard, but he landed wrong, his foot slipping on a wet spot on the floor. Fumbling, he tried to get his balance but instead fell against the fireplace—the back of his head hitting a jagged stone in its border with a sickening crack.

“No!” yelled Mae, running over to the hearth. Blank, staring eyes met her from that hideous face, and she swore in Finnish. For someone who’d wanted to achieve this rescue with as little death as possible, she seemed to be causing it everywhere. After ascertaining there really was no hope of resuscitation, she left him there for the time being and performed a more thorough search of the premises. Her examination concluded two things: he lived alone, and there was no extra food.

What had he done? Had he just hunted as-needed? Had he been about to journey to civilization and obtain some? Or was there a cache hidden away somewhere? He had no answers to give, and Mae tried to work off her frustration by digging a shallow grave for him with a shovel she’d found. It wasn’t what he deserved, but it was all she could offer for what had fallen out between them. The one bright spot on the property was an active well, and Mae wanted to bring the girls here to resupply and sterilize new water. That would require getting him out of sight.

The crude shovel wasn’t that efficient, and by the time she’d buried the man, she was covered in sweat, and her cut had opened and begun bleeding. She’d have to use the thin blanket she’d seen on the pallet as a bandage and then do a thorough washing. Before heading off to retrieve the girls, she made one more sweep of the property, just in case she’d missed something.

She hadn’t, and that realization made her anger grow. She was tired and hungry, weighed down by an impossible task that she’d been promised divine help on—and hadn’t received.

“You promised me food!” she yelled to the dormant orchard. “Where is it? How am I supposed to feed them? How are we supposed to make it to the border without food?”

No answer came, but of course it wouldn’t, she thought furiously. Gods didn’t like to talk directly to mortals. They did it in dreams and other inconvenient ways—like blood-induced trances. Mae stared at her bleeding hand, but apparently it had already served its purpose. Fully aware she was acting out of frustration, Mae cut her other palm with the amber knife and demanded, “Here’s what you wanted, right? You said I had to give something to get something. Where are my answers? Where’s the help you promised?”

No answers came. No vision came either. This is what it comes to, she thought. This is why gods are no good for humans. They only let us down. Justin was right about everything. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.

A wave of dizziness struck her, and she put her freshly cut hand out to support herself on a tree, wincing at the pain. She pulled her hand back and then stared openmouthed at what she saw. The tree’s trunk was scaled and corroded with disease. That and drought had prevented the tree from producing fruit this season. But where her blood touched the trunk, the scaling disappeared, and a healthy patch of bark spread out, stopping when it was about twice the size of her palm.

I’m hallucinating. It was the obvious explanation . . . but it didn’t stop her from unwrapping her other hand and placing both bleeding palms against the bark. A sense of warmth and lightness spread out from her, through her hands, and through her blood, sending her life into the dying tree. It was a heady, exhilarating feeling, reminding her of the sensation she sometimes had in the goddess’s presence in her visions, that glorious feeling of being alive and connecting to all things living. At the same time, it was an excruciating feeling, drawing on every bit of Mae’s core of strength, a core that had been tapped considerably these last few days through both mental and physical hardship.

Despite that exertion, she kept her palms on the tree and continued focusing her energy. The healthy bark spread farther and farther until it consumed the entire trunk and branches. Green leaves burst into life, soon followed by delicate pink and white blossoms. The world reeled around Mae, and she nearly let go.

No, no, she thought. The cycle isn’t complete yet.

The blossoms grew and then fell apart, showering her in fragrant petals, far sweeter and richer than any perfume of hers could manage. And in the flowers’ places, fruit began to grow, starting small and green and soon developing into full, red apples that weighed down the limbs. It was then that Mae finally broke away, gasping at the strange mix of pain and pleasure coursing through her. There was blood on her palms and blood on the tree, but it was alive and healthy, ready to feed a group of hungry girls.

The goddess’s voice reverberated in Mae’s head: This is the kind of power you have in service to me, the power of life and love and fertility. As my priestess, you will bring life where you choose. As my warrior, you will bring death when necessary. You will bring comfort and healing. You will ignite desire. And always, always, I will have my hand upon you, empowering you.

Mae staggered back, and black spots danced before her vision. Praetorians might not sleep, but they could certainly pass out from injury, and she fought for her consciousness. All of this would be for nothing if she couldn’t get the girls here. Not bothering to rewrap her hands, she stumbled down the path back to where she’d left her charges. The journey was unwieldy, and she had to stop a number of times to catch her breath. At last, she reached the clearing she’d left them in, where they sat waiting in a small, nervous cluster. Cecile and Clara ran to her side, faces shocked at her appearance.

“Come on,” Mae said, gesturing them forward with bloody hands.

“I have food.”

Not waiting to see if they followed, she turned back toward the shack and plunged down the trail, vaguely aware of others following in her wake. Each step was harder than the last, but Mae refused to rest until she was back at the tree.

If I didn’t imagine it, she thought with a panic. In her current state, barely able to stand, with the world spinning, it was possible the entire thing had been a hallucination. But when she reached the ragged orchard, the thriving tree was still there. At least, she thought it was. She turned to look at the girls hurrying behind her, and their overjoyed faces told her that this was indeed a reality.

“Your dinner,” she declared grandly. And then she passed out.

She came to a couple hours later, as sunset was darkening the sky. She was lying in the grass beside the tree she’d revived, and someone had made a makeshift pillow out of a coat for her. She tried to sit up, and Clara hurried to her side with a jug of water.

“Drink this,” she said. “We got more from the well and boiled it inside while you slept. Probably it was fine, but—well, just in case.”

“Smart thinking,” Mae managed to say hoarsely. After a few sips of the water, she pulled herself upright and took in her surroundings. A crude ladder that must’ve belonged to the dead man was propped up against the tree, and Mae counted at least three girls up in the limbs, picking and throwing down apples.

“We can leave some for the owner,” said Monica, coming to sit down. “But we thought we should get as many down as we could. And, uh, we didn’t really ration them at first. We just kind of went on a binge.”

Mae smiled weakly. “That’s okay. Get your fill now. We’ll ration when we leave.” An apple descended from the tree and rolled toward her. She picked it up and bit into it, pleased that it was indeed a real apple and not something insubstantial. When she finished, she ate a second but turned down the third when Clara offered it to her.

“It seems like a lot right now, but these need to get us through at least two more days, and thirteen mouths is a lot to feed,” Mae explained.

The two girls exchanged uneasy looks. “Twelve,” said Monica. “Dawn ran off while we were waiting for you back there. We tried to stop her, and then we didn’t know if we should follow her or stay where you’d left us.”

“No, you did right,” said Mae. “She didn’t want to be here anyway.”

One less mouth to feed lightened Mae’s load, but Dawn was a witness to what had happened. It was a cruel thought, but with as inept as she was at living off the land, Dawn might not very well survive to find anyone to tell her tale to. Or, if she found someone like Mae had encountered, Dawn might find herself caught and forced to be some hermit’s wife. Again, not a pleasant thought, but one that would make Mae’s life easier. For now, there was no further point in worrying. Getting to the border was all that mattered.

They spent the night there, eating apples and drinking from the well unchecked. Everyone was in better spirits in the morning, and even if not all of them had come around to trusting Mae, they at least responded more favorably, now that she’d tended to their basic needs. Their final count gave them eighty-seven apples, which initially seemed like a bounty until Mae looked ahead to their next two days. They split the apples up between some supply sacks found in the shack and then, with newly filled water bottles, set out on the rest of their journey. Mae gave the apple tree one last, lingering look, etching its details into her memory, wondering if she’d ever create such a thing again. Wondering if she’d want to.

The orchard gave way to more deciduous forest, and by the end of the day, they were back in bedraggled open grassland. That made Mae nervous, but the failing light would help obscure them from aircraft, as would some of the taller vegetation. She’d regained a lot of her strength, something made easier by keeping to the girls’ lighter pace. They did a respectable job that day, due largely to the rest and nourishment. She hoped for the same progress tomorrow and finally called a rest by a cluster of scraggly trees near a dried up pond.

The girls curled up together on the ground, settling themselves for sleep, and Mae watched with fond protectiveness from her spot against a thin tree. To her surprise, Ava came and sat beside her, her fair hair gleaming in the moonlight.

“How come you never sleep?” asked the girl.

“I slept yesterday in the orchard,” Mae reminded her. “Yeah, but you don’t sleep when the rest of us do.”

Mae thought of how to explain it, not really sure the Arcadian- raised girl was ready to learn about Gemman military implants. “I’m a soldier. Part of my training was how to get by without sleep.”

Ava seemed to accept this and move on. “I didn’t know there were woman soldiers.”

“There are lots of them where I’m from. Where I’m taking you.”

”Why are you taking us there?”

“Because it’s where you belong,” said Mae fiercely. “You were taken from there when you were young. It’s your home.”

“Dawn says you’re a demon.”

Mae laughed at that. “Dawn’s gone. Do I look like a demon?” Ava shook her head. “Will we live with you in the new country?”

“I don’t know,” said Mae. Certainly the other girls wouldn’t, but Mae didn’t know how Ava’s custody would fall out. The Nordics wouldn’t take her, but there was a chance Ava’s plebeian father might want her, once she was identified. Mae had no clue what kind of man her sister had had her fling with but felt confident of one thing. “Wherever you end up, it’ll be better than where you came from. You’ll be safe. No one will hurt you, and you’ll have all the choices in the world. Now go get some rest.”

The next day was less upbeat. Strict rationing took its toll once more, as did the mental exhaustion of these long, arduous days. The landscape didn’t change, remaining open grasslands with scattered clusters of small trees. It left Mae on pins and needles, especially since the amount of aircraft increased—and she was almost certain they were military machines. The upside was that the more frequent aircraft and her calculations strongly supported the idea that they were nearing the border. Further confirmation came that night when the girls had made camp again near the best group of trees Mae could find, which wasn’t saying much. She hadn’t seen anything before the sun went down, but now, in darkness, she could make out lights on the horizon.

A chill ran through her. The border.

She gathered Monica and three of the oldest girls. They didn’t have the zeal of Clara and Cecile, but they’d warmed up to her, and Mae couldn’t trust this next task to anyone younger. She paired the foursome off and quickly explained a watch schedule, instructing the first pair to stay awake until the moon was at a designated point, then wake the other pair and switch.

“Where are you going?” asked Monica.

“To do some scouting. I’ll whistle when I come back. If anyone else comes by, make no noise, even if they call out to you. Stay hidden.”

Mae didn’t bother giving instructions on what to do if the girls were seized because really, there was no advice to give.

She set out at a light jog, the implant and hope working together to charge up her tired body. This was it. They were almost there. The lights grew bigger and brighter, and Mae soon had a sense of what she was looking at. There were two military outposts, one on each side of the border, Gemmans and Arcadians mirroring each other. It was what she’d expected—and feared. Each side wanted to watch the other, which made sense but meant she had to get through the enemy to get home. She knew the rest of the border was marked with some kind of nasty fencing, barbed wire or electrically charged, maybe both. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be the cakewalk she’d had at Carl’s or the salon. Both sides wanted that border up, and both would have sensors going off if anyone tried to cut or cross that fencing. There would also likely be random patrols on both sides. She sized up the situation and made her decision, then hurried back to the sleeping girls.

The second watch had just started, and Mae had them help her wake up the others. The girls were groggy and grumpy and not happy about another trek after so little sleep, but Mae’s stern tone soon brought them in order. “This is it,” she told them. “Move quickly and quietly, and soon you’ll have all the food and clean clothes you could want.”

She shepherded them over the fields, shushing any questions that came along. She kept away from the outpost’s borders but knew they were within a range where they might encounter a patrol. Even in the night, the border fence was a formidable sight for the girls, with its wicked spikes and scattered red lights warning of electric shock. Mae settled the girls into a small group near a patch of darkness and ordered them to silence before taking Monica aside.

“Don’t move. Say nothing, even if you hear someone approaching—on this side. If you see soldiers on the other side, call to them in a whisper. Tell them you’re seeking asylum, that you’re kidnapped Gemman citizens and have a chipped Gemman with you that way.” Mae pointed to the direction she intended to go. “Do you understand?”

“I-I think so.” Monica’s eyes were large and fearful in the moonlight, as though she understood just how high the stakes were. “What if soldiers on this side find us?”

“They won’t,” Mae lied.

She left them and walked along the fence toward the outposts, hoping to run into a Gemman patrol. She was placing a bet that either she or the girls would encounter friendly soldiers, a bet that might very well backfire if she ran into Arcadians first.

Ten minutes into her walk, that fear was realized.

There were two of them, and she saw them a fraction of a second before they saw her. Using her gun as a bludgeoning weapon again, she leapt out with praetorian speed and knocked out one of them before he could attack. The other immediately started firing, forcing Mae to drop to the ground to dodge the barrage. Grabbing hold of his comrade’s rifle, she swung out and slammed the gun into the man’s legs, forcing him to stumble and briefly stop shooting. She used the lull to spring up and take him down, incapacitating him with a blow to the head as well. It was all done neatly and efficiently—except for the gunfire which had alerted both sides to her presence.

Mae set off at a hard run, hoping the Gemmans were faster. She knew if she got close enough to the outpost, a sensor would pick up her chip and identify her. Otherwise, she’d have to talk her way in. Luck held with her part of the way, and her heart leapt as she saw a group of Gemman soldiers come charging in her direction down the other side of the fence.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Stop, I’m a Gemman citizen!”

Two flashlights and five guns pointed at her. “Put down your weapon,” barked one of the soldiers.

Mae immediately complied, slowly raising her hands in the air. “Where’s your chip sensor? I’m a citizen, and I have a group of citizens with me, a mile east down the fence.”

One of the soldiers, a middle aged woman bearing a sergeant’s rank, stepped forward, her gun still fixed on Mae. “The main sensor’s a mile west. The nearest one’s a portable one out with another patrol.”

“Get them here,” exclaimed Mae. “And send someone east. Those are Gemman children. Bring them behind the fence and sort out the details later.”

The woman hesitated and then said something into a headset that Mae couldn’t make out. Shouts sounded behind her, and she turned, catching sight of approaching flashlights in the hands of individuals who were probably carrying guns and wearing Arcadian uniforms.

“Where’s the nearest access point?” demanded Mae. The outposts themselves held the greatest points of entry, but smaller doors, only large enough for one person were scattered all along the border, controlled by both sides for maintenance. Admittedly, that meant someone could walk right over from the other side if they had the proper codes, but they couldn’t do it without triggering alarms. Since Mae’s cover was already blown, secrecy no longer mattered.

“Come on!” she cried, when no one answered right away. “Your Arcadian counterparts are on their way, and when you find out I am a citizen—and that I outrank you, sergeant—you’re going to wish you’d made this easier!”

The woman in charge studied Mae a few moments and then glanced at the rapidly approaching figures. Mae wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to her plight. There were probably Arcadians constantly trying to jump the border, and Mae knew she looked pretty bedraggled. That being said, her accent had to at least give them pause, as did her demands for a chip reader.

“One click east,” the sergeant said.

Mae swore under her breath. She’d passed it leaving the girls—in fact, it might not be that far from the girls at all. “Well, shoot me, or keep up then.”

She took off down the fence line, the Gemman soldiers keeping pace with her as the Arcadians shouted and grew closer. The sergeant gave a half-hearted order for her to stop, but Mae knew she wouldn’t shoot yet, not unless she tried to enter Gemman territory without authorization. Studying the fence, she saw a subtle shift in the pattern of red lights and realized she had indeed passed the door on her earlier trip. She was contemplating overshooting it to retrieve the girls when she saw dark silhouettes approaching and realized they were coming toward her. Opposite them on the fence, two Gemman soldiers paced the girls, and Mae saw relief cross the soldiers’ features in the erratic light.

“Sergeant,” said one. “We found them where you said.”

A quick headcount assured Mae all her charges were there. “Open the door before the Arcadians get here!” she said.

The sergeant looked the new soldiers over. “Where’s your chip reader?”

One of them pulled out a small handheld device and Mae held her hand up as close to the fence as she dared, hoping her chip’s signal would be close enough for the scanner to read. Some of the Gemman soldiers turned away and focused their guns on something behind her, which didn’t bode well for how close the Arcadians were getting.

“Got it,” said the soldier. “She’s Gemman, and—sergeant, she’s a praetorian!”

The sergeant began entering in the codes on her side that would open the door as her other soldiers began shouting for the Arcadians to stand down. Mae didn’t dare look behind but instead began herding the girls toward the small door. The soldier with the scanner looked around uncertainly.

“None of them are chipped.”

The sergeant finished the codes, and there was an audible click as the door opened. She met Mae’s eyes briefly and said, “Let them in.”

The girls entered, and Mae herself stepped through just as a line of Arcadian soldiers arranged themselves on their side and began making their own threats back at the Gemmans. Mae staggered forward several feet, and then sank to the ground, not realizing until that moment just how weak and dizzy she was from exertion, lack of food, and the apple tree incident. She didn’t worry so much about the altercation behind her. Scuffles and shouting matches probably happened all the time. So long as no one was shot—which she had to imagine they had a lot of practice in self-control with—she would be all right until the next batch of red tape. All that mattered now was that she had done it. She’d crossed over.

The girls huddled around her, looking at her with concern. Ava was standing closest, her little face grave in the shadows. “Are you okay, Miss Mae?”

“Yes—yes I am.” Mae clasped the girl’s hand and tried to manage a smile as she looked into all of the gathered faces. “Welcome to the Republic of United North America.”