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“I’m sorry, Salem,” Oz says softly, his voice full of regret.
When he slides his hand over her forehead to push back her hair, he reveals a hole that only a bullet could have made. It’s so small, like I should be able to just place a Band-Aid over it and everything would be okay again. But when I look at the blood covering Oz, I know the back of her head, where the bullet exited, won’t look quite the same.
I press my hand to her and pray harder than I’ve ever prayed before. I push light and energy into her, but it’s as if it hits a barrier and comes right back. I yank her into my arms and sob as I push more energy into her, but nothing will get through. All that made Itziaheris gone now.
I give in, knowing I’m too late and hating myself because of it. I hold her to my chest, close my eyes, and scream. My heart breaks and bleeds out on the floor with the little girl, who had so much more life to live.
“We have to go, Salem,” Zig tells me. I can hear the regret along with the sense of urgency, but I shake my head.
“I can’t leave her. I can’t leave her here alone. She’ll be scared.”
“Baby, we have to go. Now. If you let Oz carry you, I’ll carry Itzia. I promise.”
I whimper but nod. I hand her over to Zig, who looks down at her in his arms. His face is ravaged. He stands with her and tucks her against his chest as Oz scoops me up and holds me tight. We make our way out of the house that was once a happy home but ended as a tomb and see the fire dangerously close to us.
“Let’s go,” Zig yells to Oz as he leads us back through the jungle. There is no taking his time now. He runs as fast as possible, and Oz follows him, neither of them breaking their pace or faltering until we reach the waterfall.
We stop, and Oz slides me to my feet as he walks over to Zig and claps his hand on his shoulder. I walk over to the water’s edge and see the water is turbulent as it rushes down the river, as if the jungle itself is weeping.
“Salem?” Oz walks up behind me.
“We can’t take her with us, can we?” My voice sounds hollow.
“No, we can’t.”
I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, but I nod and turn to face Zig.
“Aapo said she loved the water,” Zig chokes out as he walks slowly toward me, his grief as palpable as mine.
“We can put her under the tree over there, or we can place her in the water. What do you think?”
I look around, knowing this is the last time we’ll ever come here. “The water. It’s cleansing, right?”
He nods at me sadly as Oz steps up and places a handful of wildflowers on her chest. I bite back a sob as we walk out into the water as if commanded by a higher power. Oz bends down and whispers something to her before stepping back, his cheeks wet with tears. Zig presses a kiss to her head, right over her wound. A place of pain touched by love. I step forward and cup her jaw and close my eyes, remembering the vivacious girl she was. When I open them again, I kiss her temple and say a prayer before Zig lowers her gently into the water.
It doesn’t take long before the current takes hold of her and pulls her under, washing away the horror that has no place here and carrying her away from us, the three people who fell in love with her smile.
I watch her disappear, knowing deep down that I’m the reason she’s dead.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Zig
By the time we get back to the plane, Salem has completely shut down. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying, and her skin is so pale that I keep expecting her to pass out from exhaustion.
I nudge her into Oz’s arms and look at him over her head. “I’ll grab our bug-out bag and some extra weapons. Then we need to go,” I tell him quietly.
He nods, drawing his gun and keeping it at his side as his other hand strokes over the back of Salem’s head. I pull my gun, check the chamber, and close it. The sound must register in Salem’s head because she turns to look at me.
“Stay with Oz. I’ll be in and out.”
“We can help.”
“Not until I know it’s safe. Do as I say, Salem.” I keep my voice firm. There is no room for argument. We don’t have time. The only advantage we have right now is that we know this place better than anyone else.
I leave them and head over to the plane, scanning the area as I do. Nothing looks out of place, and the ground doesn’t look disturbed. But if these guys are professional, and from the execution-style bullets in all those bodies, I have to believe they are, then they know how to cover their tracks. I keep my gun raised as I take the ladder up and scan the interior, but nobody is there. I climb up and grab the bug-out bag Salem prepared all those months ago. I shove a few extra things inside, load it up with the rest of the bottles of water that we have kept filled, and add some weapons from our cache.
We can’t take it all because we just can’t carry it.
