hung by an old strip of leather around his neck. It had been given to him by his predecessor, Rexer, the one who had recognized and nurtured Sanchez’s spiritual gifts. It was very ancient, a piece of the Source. Now, Sanchez desperately hoped it would give him strength, help him to understand the wild things he had seen in his vision.
Thirsty, hunger clawing at his belly, his mind riddled with fears, and pursued by the image of the bright yellow ball, Sanchez hurried on after his people.
CHAPTER 5
“J’OU ARE NO LONGER THEIR PROBLEM.”
Echo was too frightened to protest. Her throat felt squeezed shut, unable to let out a cry even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. She didn’t want to resist, she didn’t want to stop stumbling along, blindfolded, gagged by a dirty cloth, gripped by whoever it was with the strong fingers.
Fear could do that, she’d heard. It could make you just sit there and take it.
But for how long?
A tiny mew from the baby reached Echo’s ears. If the baby is hurt… The thought seared through her mind and an amazing protectiveness exploded into a fierce anger. She stumbled and the big toe on her right foot jammed into the floor. The minor accident added fuel to the fire of Echo’s anger and with a violent motion she tried to jerk away from her captor.
But it was no use. The grip hardened and the captor stepped up their pace.
Suddenly, her captor stopped cold. Echo bumped into him — or her — and heard the faint creak of what she thought must be a door opening. She knew intuitively that someone was there, waiting for them.
Her captor pushed her ahead of him — her? — and once again Echo heard the faint creak.
The door had closed behind her
A whisper reached her ears now.
“Don’t shout. No one will hear j’ou, anyway. But don’t shout.”
Hands from behind untied the blindfold and released the gag. Echo blinked and worked her jaw. She felt suddenly dizzy and must have swayed because another set of hands were now supporting her …
And then, she could see.
Westie. Mattock. Lyric.
“Oh. Oh. J’ou …” Echo’s mind raced. “What’s going on?” she whispered harshly, reaching for her baby. Lyric handed the tiny, murmuring bundle to Echo without hesitation. Oddly, it was only now that Echo noticed Lyric, too, was clothed in the long, hooded garment Mattock wore.
“Why are j’ou dressed like that?” she asked.
It was Westie who answered. Her face was grimmer than Echo had ever seen it. “We’re getting j’ou out of here,” she said. “They were going to let j’ou die. J’ou and the baby.”
“What?” Echo’s mind refused to absorb this information.
“The elders’ decision was unanimous,” Mattock said with a bright flush of shame. “It’s true.
Echo. The colony voted to starve j’ou and the baby to death, rather than feed j’ou until the Marauders could take j’ou with them.”
Oh, Echo thought. Oh.
“My life wasn’t worth sparing,” she said then, a crazy giggle escaping her lips. “Not even until I could be cast out.”
Lyric sobbed and clapped a hand to her mouth.
Echo turned to Westie and fought back a sneer of contempt. Anger bubbled up in her brain.
“Lyric and Mattock have always been my friends,” she said. “But j’ou! Why are j’ou helping me? J’ou’ve always seemed so —”
Westie grimaced. “Harsh? Yes. No one would ever expect Westie, the stern one, of being a traitor to the cause of genetic purity.”
Echo looked deep into Westie’s eyes. “Tell me,” she said. “All of it.”
Westie opened her mouth, closed it again.
“Go ahead,” Echo said. “I need to know.”
“I was a child at the time.” Westie sighed before going on. “J’our mother was — my friend.
Neither of us really understood what was happening. But — there was a scare. A man named Tap developed symptoms of a terrible, debilitating disease. I suppose he had been born with it. The disease must have lain dormant for