Page 15 of Keeping Sarah

But there was no answer. As the others caught up, they started shouting for her, too.

The wreckage of Rex’s ship smoldered as we ran to it. There were dead bodies in every direction. The bones had already been picked over. Most were completely stripped of flesh. One skeleton in particular was distinctively petite.

“Sarah!” I shouted before all my strength left me and I collapsed to my knees in anguish next to the smallest set of bones.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe this had happened to Sarah—my mind fought against it, struggling to keep myself tethered to my body. I retched on the ground, unable to hold anything back. Something screamed inside of me before I heard that scream with my ears. Heat poured down my face for her. I dug my fingers into the ground, searching for anything to keep the world from spinning without me.

Someone slapped my face.

Instantly, my bone knife was in my hand, and I leapt for them, knocking them to the ground. The blade was pressed to their throat before I was kicked off of my attacker. I landed on my back, meters away. The wind was knocked out of me, but I still tried to get to my feet. But then Fan and Bell held me back as my vision cleared. I dropped my knife.

Tiny Gram was on his back, while all four conduits stood next to him. My victim and my kickers. Panicked, I asked, “Is he—"

“I’m fine,” Gram grumbled as he got back to his feet. “Sorry for slapping you. I just—you need to see this.”

I nodded toward Fan and Bell, and they released me. “Sorry, guys. Everyone. I’m…” but then a wave of grief washed over me and nearly knocked me off my feet again. “I can’t…I can’t believe any of this…is happening.”

Bell merely pointed at Gram and said, “Look.”

Gram held up a single silver feather. “Omen said Sarah can control the jem’hora. This is a one of their feathers. I use them to decorate the fancier knives I make sometimes. These feathers are all over the place. It’s molting season, so they lose them easily right now, but not the point. Point is, look at the hull of the ship, Jac.” He pointed to a crusty bit of hull next to a tree. It had been burnt out, but the talon marks were obvious. “If the jem’hora were involved, then maybe Sarah did this on purpose.”

“They’re scavengers, Gram,” I rasped in a hoarse voice. “The talon marks were probably from when they retrieved their…meals.”

“But the talon marks are burned, too,” Omen pointed out. “The jem’hora are not going to scavenge from the ship while it’s on fire, Jac. They attacked the ship. They are probably the reason why it went down in the first place. Sarah did this. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

“I want to believe that, Omen.” I stared back at the smallest set of bones, my heart feeling as though it was slowly dying. “I want to believe that’s not her—"

Omen laid down next to the bones, giving me a better look at the size of the skeleton. “It’s definitely not her. This one is too tall.”

“And look at the pelvis,” one of the conduits said, “too male.”

A glimmer of hope shot through me. “You mean that?”

Omen kicked the bones over. “That right there, the shape. That’s a male. Female pelvises have room for fetuses. There aren’t any dead females here for me to show you the difference but—"

“How do you know all that?” I interrupted her.

She smiled up at me. “Before I knew about my conduit abilities, I was a nurse.”

I gulped and hoped she wasn’t snowing me. “Then everyone, back on the ship. We’ve got a queen to rescue.”

CHAPTER 6

Deacon

My father’s small cottage was quiet. I was certain his family was asleep an hour after Silence went to bed. After her comment about the onworlder, I had pondered the possibilities of my escape.

My ship,Allegiant, would have been the better choice—far faster than an old onworlder. However, it was also much noisier and, even if they had somehow managed to sleep through take off, it would be missed the instant they awoke. Most importantly, the other patients were housed inside my ship’s infirmary.

If only I am missing, they may believe I am working on my ship or perhaps I went for a short walk. My father had spoken of selling his onworlder earlier—how he no longer used it, since it had started to have occasional mechanical problems. I prayed I would not find the thing had rusted over.

Carefully, I made my way through the cottage as I packed a rucksack with food and water. Closing the door was more perilous than opening it had been—the bone doorknob mechanism made a pronouncedsnickwhen it closed. I gently turned the knob until the mechanism only kissed the hole, instead of snicking into it. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, but as I turned on his porch, the door settled, causing the mechanism’s telltale click. I froze in place and held my breath.

But no one came to check the door.

Avoiding twigs and clumps of dry leaves, I walked through his front yard toward the equipment shed to the east of his property. It was opposite fromAllegiant, so when I reached the shed, I looked back at my ship longingly. Shewouldmake the trip so much shorter. But I could not risk my father’s insistence that I stay and rest. And he would insist.

As much as he seemed fond of Sarah and knew the dangers of her situation, my father was always most concerned with his own family. Not that I blamed him for such things, but I hoped that as he grew closer to Sarah, he would come to realize she was also his family now, as she was mine.

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