Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [53]
Pearce. I grip the bars with white knuckles, seething with white-hot rage.
The nauseating serpent towers over a small boy and holds a book by its spine in disgust. The kid looks at the ground, obviously expecting the worst, and the rest of the children are gathered, wide-eyed and frozen, much like they were when he entered the barracks the other day.
Pity tugs at my heart. Can I honestly blame these N.O. Youth for their evil acts, for following The One’s orders when the environment of terror obviously keeps them so rigidly in check?
“What have we here?” Pearce says, his words clipped and cheerful but loud enough for the whole compound to hear. “New Order, 1, 2, 3: The Soldier’s Path. Interesting choice of reading material. It’s a pity that all reading material for level-one recruits is strictly banned,” he says, a threat creeping into his voice.
“B-b-but, it’s for you!” the kid stutters in protest. “For you and The One! I was just studying. I just … I just want to be the most exemplary New Order Youth I can be, sir!”
Pearce scoffs, pacing out of my view. “Literacy rots the brain, I’m afraid. And a rotten mind is of no use to the New Order. Sadly, there must be consequences. We’ll have to demonstrate to these other rule-abiding youths the detriments of disobedience.”
I crane my neck through the bars, just in time to see Pearce step forward and grab the boy by his temples.
“No!” I yell, fire shooting through my fingertips, but only enough to melt the bars.
Pearce looks around sharply, but it’s too late. The kid’s eyes roll backward, and in less than a second his face is only ash. The rest of the Youth Troop gasps. Clearly these are new recruits who haven’t witnessed this rampant cruelty up close before.
I bet none of them will forget the lesson.
Neither will I. A kid. He was just a kid.
I step back from the fire-damaged window, numb. My stomach twists with the fresh realization of what The One and his despicable henchman are capable of. It’s a crushing contrast to my daydream, but it rallies my conviction at the same time.
I have to deal with The One, because crimes like this, murders like this, go on day after day in this cowardly new world, and if what they say is true, if I’m The One With The Gift, The One Who Can Stop The One, who am I to go on pretending it’ll get better? When kids are dying, what right do I have to be afraid?
This time, I’m going out to get him.
Chapter 56
Wisty
I WAKE WITH a start, a sense of urgency making my mind hum.
I forgot to return the keys to the palace after cleaning the elite apartments this afternoon.
And no one noticed.
Around me in the barracks, my fellow N.O. comrades snooze in their bunks, looking impossibly innocent. It’s very late — around two or three a.m. — and I should probably lie back down and dream of another toilet-filled day ahead of me, should probably get some rest before the morning punishment comes, when they realize I still have the keys.
But I’m far too restless for that. My fingertips tingle — I can feel my M growing. An exhilarating energy is coursing through me, and I have to act on it. I’m finally ready to confront The One, and there’s no better time than Right. This. Minute.
I dress in the dark and tiptoe past the slumbering kid soldiers, sneaking out of the barracks and into the starless night. I slink along the brick buildings, pausing as still as a statue and pressing into the wall as the searchlight passes over me.
There is a group of N.O. guards making noise in the courtyard, their good spirits and stumbles suggesting alcohol and banned activity. One shoves another as I watch from the shadows, and the soldiers screech with laughter. If I’m caught on forbidden grounds it’s punishable by expulsion, and catching guards breaking rules would probably mean something a whole lot worse for me.