Blight

“Are you stupid?”

His eyes twinkled. “That can be debated.” I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest.

“We can’t do that,” I said defensively. “What if the Watchers see us? Or the Catchers? This is wrong.” Micah reached for my hand once more and I pulled away.

“We’ll be all right,” he reassured me. “I’ll keep us safe.”

It’s strange how quickly he could cool down. He had a terrible temper, but soon after, he’s back to his loveable Micah self. I eyed him carefully, then smiled at myself. I was scared. Why? I broke the rules all the time; this should be no problem. Then again, I had never gone out of town limits. No one questioned it. That’s just how our little town worked; we struggled day in and out to survive and abided by the Alliance’s rules, regardless of how fair they may or may not be.

“So, are you going to keep on pouting, or are you coming?” Micah once again held his hand out for mine. Reluctantly, I took it and trudged behind him. Walking into unknown territory made my instincts go wild, begging me to turn around. I ignored the tightening in my chest and continued behind Micah. I attempted to lick my lips with my dry tongue to no avail.

The sky began to turn a multitude of purples, pinks, and dark blues. The sun was setting just to our right. The road curved slowly to the left, leading us through a more dense part of the woods. Large trees stooped over us, cascading dark patterned shadows on our bodies. The grasses grew about two feet off the ground. Insects buzzed all around us, busying themselves at different flowers or bushes. There was a snap of a twig. Micah and I froze in place. Slowly, I cast my gaze around the copse. There was no movement. Sunlight dimly shone through the breaks in the trees, dancing across our faces. Our shadows elongated towards the east. Micah’s breathing was quiet but heavy, wisps of white puffed out as he exhaled. The air started to cool quickly as the sun fell further over the horizon. A chill travelled down my spine. There was another crunch as the intruder moved a little more. It was just to Micah’s left.

I glanced over to where the noise was made. I could make out a faint silhouette. I bit my tongue to stop a gasp from escaping. Micah carefully held an arm out, shielding me from the figure. It moved forward toward us. My breath caught.

We’re going to die, I thought. I knew we should not have come.

There was just enough light to see. It was going to be a starless night. We had to depend on the faint sunlight that was barely managing itself through the woods. The creature stepped out into a clearing just thirty feet from us. A deer. That’s all it was. Micah let out a deep breath he must have been holding in. His arm dropped. I rolled back my shoulders, releasing the tension that had built up. Micah began to laugh.

“What are you doing?” I whispered; I sounded irritated. He chuckled a little harder. “What?” I fumed.

“We’re so thick!” he exclaimed, slicking his fingers through his hair. “Fuck! It’s just a stupid deer! A deer! I thought we were in like, mortal peril or something!”

A smile tugged at my lips. “I guess you’re right.” My expression grew hard. “But it could have been a Catcher. What would have we done then? Beg for mercy?”

The laughter escaped his eyes. “You’re right,” he sighed solemnly. “But it wasn’t, Lana. It’s okay. We’re okay. Nothing bad has happened!”

I made a face and turned toward the direction we were heading in. “Let’s go,” I called. “It’s no use waiting around here. We’re too out in the open.”

“Right,” he stated, jogging up to meet me.

We quickened our pace as the temperature dropped. I shivered again.

“Do you need me to light a fire? It’s pretty easy for me you know,” he poked at me; his voice teetered between cockiness and concern.

“No, that’ll make us easier to spot.”

“Well then,” he said, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close. “You can just stay right next to me.” A flirty smile grew on his face. I scoffed.

“Jerk,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” I teased, winking at him. He bumped his hip against my side and began humming again.

He rubbed his hand up and down my arm, setting off miniature fireworks along my skin. I leaned in to him, smelling the pine that lingered on his clothes. My other hand instinctively reached out for his, which was rubbing my arm. I grasped a hold of it, stopping it just on my shoulder. He entwined his fingers with mine, instantly warming my hand. Yes, we were best friends, but it has always wavered back and forth between best friends and lovers. It has been like this since I could remember.

I was six and had just gotten into an argument with my mother over something ridiculous, as all six-year-olds did. I ran down the road into the square. It was early summer. The garden was in full bloom. I ran through it and settled in a small grass patch, surrounded by little pink blossoms. I curled up, knees to my chest with my arms around them. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I hated making Mama mad. I hated being in trouble. It’s not fair. There was a rustle behind me.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted, not wanting Mama to see me cry.

“What’s wrong?” a curious voice asked.

I turned over my shoulder to see a thin, dark-skinned boy with messy mocha hair falling into his eyes. His mouth turned sour at my red puffy eyes. Sitting down next to me, this strange six year old draped his arm across my shoulders and smiled at me.

“I’m Micah,” he introduced himself.

“Lana.”

“Well, Lana,” he said. “Stop crying. It’s stupid.” I smiled and grabbed for a flower.

“You know what these are?” I asked.

“No,” he responded innocently.

“Mama calls them ‘azaleas.’ They’re her favorite.”

“Oh,” he muttered shyly. He sat up and began to leave.

“You’re going?”

“’Hmm. I need to get back home,” he called over his shoulder. “See ya, Azalea.” He started to jog down the street away from me.

“Lana?” I looked up at seventeen-year-old Micah’s face.

“Yeah?”

“We need to stop. It’s getting late.”

“’K,” I responded. We cut through some bushes and trees until we came across a small clearing. A small stream coursed nearby. Micah and I made our way to it, gratefully taking in handfuls of cool water to our arid mouths. I splashed some water on my face and dabbed myself dry with the bottom of my tattered shirt. I found a comfortable spot on the ground and waited for Micah to lay by me. He emerged from the dark, exuding heat. He lay by me, holding me in his arms. I looked up into his eyes.

How can we stay like this? I thought to myself. I was just about to say something when his fingers gently grasped my chin. He pulled me closer to his face and stopped just inches from me. My eyes widened with curiosity and excitement. I wanted to close this space so much. And just like he read my mind, he did so. His lips tenderly found mine. The heat from his lips caused mine to tingle. My fingers played with his hair as we found rhythm. His arms explored my sides. He rolled my onto my back, straddling me.

I traced my nails down his chest and arms, playing with the muscles that bulged there. His tongue snaked around mine. My body convulsed at his touch. I pulled on his shirt, wishing it to come off. He smiled against my lips and pulled away. A whine escaped from my mouth as he sat next to me, his eyes never leaving mine. I looked at him innocently, longingly. His face was intense.

“I’m sorry,” he confided.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” I said, grasping for his knee. He shifted. “Really,” I reassured him. “I’m not complaining.” His eyes gleamed with guilt and anticipation. I smiled at him.

There was a noise.

Micah sprang to his feet. I hopped to a low crouch, holding my arms ready to attack. Micah looked around wildly, anger rising in his face. A deer crossed the clearing, eating its way through the overgrown grass. Micah and I relaxed our poses. I stood with him, watching the creature eat. It raised its head and stared at us. Its black eyes swirled with dark brown hues. The crescent moon illuminated overhead. Everything looked a pale dark-blue. The deer took a slight step toward us. It hesitated as it studied us. In only a moment, it curled into a ball on the ground. Black surrounded it, whirling quickly around it like a tornado. My eyes grew wide with fear and shock. I tugged on Micah’s arm. He was looking at it defensively, then began backing away from the black vortex. I followed suit.

A man rose out of the ebony whirlpool. He had bleach-blond hair that lay purposefully on his head, layering itself repeatedly, hanging just above his stark eyes. His eyes . They were strangle; a ghastly blue, edging on the colour of black. They were powerful. He had flawless pale skin, pointed nose and jaw, and a sneering thin mouth. He stood about two inches taller than I. He was skinny, yet awkwardly toned. He sported black pants and a tight green shirt with complicated thick and thin lines.

He was a Chaser.

I tensed to run, but Micah held onto my shoulder.

“Remember,” he whispered briskly, “they never travel alone. There’s got to be a Catcher around here somewhere.”

“Damn it,” I spat. “We’re fucked. We don’t know this area well enough.”

“I know,” he whispered. “No matter what, run. ”

“Stay in the woods. It’ll be harder to for him to track us, but keep an eye on the road. Follow it,” I ordered. Micah nodded and returned his gaze to the Chaser. I never detached mine from the man. The Chaser smirked at us. Micah stood a little taller.

“Hello, children,” he sneered. His voice was deep and raspy. “Drifted a little far from home I see? Now that won’t do, oh no!” he toyed at us. Micah’s grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. I held my tongue. “Not talking, are we?” The Chaser began to circle us slowly. Micah continued to face him as he made his round. I kept my eyes on the edges of the clearing. “President Pollard wouldn’t take this too kindly, now.” His eyes looked over Micah and me. “So young, too. You look to be about seventeen, correct?”

No one answered.

“I’m assuming you are!” he chided. “Training is starting up in a few days. You two need to get back so you can prepare for relocation!”

My hands balled into fists.

“Now, now,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t go off giving me that look.” I glanced at Micah; his face contorted.

Another figure emerged from the edge of the clearing. It was a woman this time. She had beady eyes, brown like acorns. Her black-gray hair was fine and curly and hung around her face like shredded paper. It bounced lazily as she strode forward. She wore an all-black outfit. Her tanned skin contrasted from it. She moved almost cat-like, though she was short and busty. Her chin pointed sharply and nose rounded. Her lips looked like they were coloured a ruby red. She crossed her arms over her protruding chest as she joined the Chaser. Her lips pouted.

“This is it?” she questioned, looking Micah and me. Her voice sounded dark, yet musical.

“Yes, Indra,” the Catcher confirmed. Indra cocked her head at Micah and I.

“They have restraint.” She nodded, “Yes, they’re smart, yet idiotic all the same.”

Micah and I knew not to use our powers unless necessary. We'll be killed if we did.

“Shall we take them to Pollard?” The raspy man quizzed the stout woman.

“Possibly, Griffin. What are their ages?”

“They look about seventeen, ma’am.”

“Oh,” she understood. “Well that won’t do.” She clicked her tongue.

“Ready?” Micah whispered, almost inaudibly. I nodded.

“Now, now!” Indra exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Don’t you dare think about leaving?” She stared intently at Micah. He returned the glare. “Oh, I see,” she leered. “Close friends? More than that, I see.” She closed her eyes briefly, reopening them, blazing a white-yellow. She gazed through Micah and me. Micah’s hands went to his head. His knees buckled under him. I stood by him helplessly, stroking his back as I glowered at Indra. She was reading his mind. It wasn’t always painful. It was only when they wanted it to be. Micah cried out in agony for another moment until she closed her eyes, opening them back to their acorn brown.

“Bitch,” Micah spat. He stood up again; his hair even more disheveled, face pale.

“Interesting,” she pondered, tapping a pudgy finger on her chin. I tapped three times on Micah’s hand quickly, signaling that we had to leave. He understood and began sprinting back towards the direction of the road. I followed pursuit.

The sound of shouts echoed from behind us as we flew through the trees. I could just make out the sound of a running animal. Griffin, I thought. Picking up speed, I vaulted over a fallen tree and splashed through a tiny stream. Micah had a good ten yards ahead of me. Growls became more audible from behind me. I dared not to look behind. I’d probably stumble.

Micah took a sharp right en route for the road. I slid as I skidded around a tree. Panting, I tried to catch up to him. A hard mass collided with me. I fell to the ground, Griffin’s weight crushing me. I rolled onto my back and kicked him off me. He had morphed into a medium-sized lion. I jumped to my feet and began to stalk him. The yellow cat bared his monstrous fangs at me, conjuring a low, menacing growl. I braced myself as he pounced at me, claws snatching at my throat. I held up my arms to protect my face as he swiped a massive claw at me. He scratched my arm, cutting deep into my forearm. A cry escaped my lips as blood began to flow. This really pissed me off.

He started at me again. I jumped just out of the way. He began to circle back as I hurdled onto his back. The lion started bucking and snapping at my legs. I kept a tight grip on him, my legs taut around his waist. Thorns protruded about half an inch from the palms of my hands. They resembled rose thorns. I stuck them hard into the scruff of his neck. He roared angrily, flinging his head back and forth. A black poison seeped from my thorns, flowing into his bloodstream. His body convulsed and collapsed on the ground. I leaped off him, retracting my thorns, and continued running, abandoning the now seizing man behind me.

In just moments, I ran into Micah. He was breathless and relieved. He grabbed a hold of my hand and ran towards the road. My vision started to blur. I stopped in my tracks, clinging to Micah. He looked me over and found my cut arm. He inhaled sharply and flung me over his shoulder. Running, he followed the road out and stopped at an abandoned deer thicket. He laid me down gently, looking over my cut. He took off his shirt and held it tight against my arm. I cried out in angst. It hurt so much.

I looked into his fearful eyes. “It’s bad isn’t it?” I asked weakly. Micah just shook his head.

“You’ll be fine. It just needs to stop bleeding.” He hurriedly adjusted the blood-soaked shirt, causing a stinging sensation. Tears filled my eyes. He looked at me worriedly. “I’m going to have to cauterize it, Lana. It’s too deep.” I closed my eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I braced myself and turned my head away. Instant pain coursed through my body. I was on fire, literally. Micah produced a small fire in his hands and pressed it against my bloody arm. I winced and sobbed. Cries screamed out of my mouth. It didn’t even sound human. My arm burned immensely. I had never felt pain like it. Pain exploded throughout my body, coursing through my veins.

And just like that, he stopped. He gently placed his hands back on the burnt spot, absorbing the heat back into his hands. The fire on my arm was now gone; the pain subsided. I looked at Micah. He looked appalled. I shot a quick glance at my arm. The cuts now singed with coal-black and blood red. I cringed and turned my head away, breathing carefully. Micah tore a length of cloth from the hem of my shirt and tied it delicately around my charred arm.

He laid me back gently onto a bed of leaves and grass. Cautiously, he lay by me. He stared at me bewilderedly. I looked at him gingerly.

“Thank you,” I mustered. He nodded and laid his head down, closing his eyes.

“We need rest. We will be fine for now, but we have to get moving in the morning, okay?”

“Yes,” I agreed, resting my head in the grass. Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep.



Micah gently shook me awake, murmuring my name into my ear. My eyes tiredly flickered open meeting his.

“Morning,” I croaked. My arm tinged a bright pink around the makeshift bandage.

“Hey, Azalea,” Micah welcomed affectionately. I scooted out of the dome of bushes and twigs and squinted up at Micah. He picked me up in his arms and headed out to the road. We had no idea how far we had traveled down. Everything still looked the same. Micah followed the paved way, taking swift glances at my injured arm.

“I’m okay, you know,” I said calmly.

“I know. It just looked... bad. ”

“I know.”

His strides quickened and lengthened, as if he couldn’t reach his unknown destination any faster. Suddenly, Micah crashed to a halt. If felt as though he ran straight into a wall. There was nothing there. He sat me down on my feet and probed the invisible wall in front of us.

“What the hell?” I said, looking perplexed at the barrier.

“It’s a...a force field or something.”

“The fuck?”

“Good job,” a malicious voice said behind us. “You figured it out.”

We turned to see a voluptuous girl with cat-like blue eyes that looked like pools of water. Her straight, alabaster hair pulled back into a high ponytail; braids weaved in and out of it. Her porcelain skin glowed ghostly in the sunlight. Faint shades of pink highlighted her high cheekbones. Her lips were full and red. She had on faded jean shorts and a pale yellow tank top. She had her hands on her hips, eyeing Micah.

“Who the hell are you?” Micah exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. The girl smirked.

“Melanie.”