The Deathless Trilogy

3.30. Die Fighting

I don't know if General Kazemi, Carmine, Jacob, or Dad are still alive, so, as the only available leader of our troops, I scream out the only order that makes sense from beneath the tree that blocks us from exiting the foxhole: "Fire at will!"

Everything erupts with the sounds of war, but all I can think about is finding my dad. "We have to get out of here," I panic.

Mom strains to push the trunk away, but it's no use, the tree is too heavy.

"Dig," Declan says, and the three of us begin clawing at the sides of the foxhole, crumbing the dirt walls and suspending light brown dust in the air. Every second we spend clawing our way out of the hole is a second Dad could be losing air or blood beneath the Beast... unless he got away. He had to have gotten away.

I watch as the wall falls beneath my clawing fingertips, until finally, I think I've made enough of a space between the wall and the trunk to squeeze through. I reach my hand to the ground outside of the hole, trying to find something to grab hold of to help me up, a root or plant or anything, when something tickles my hand. At first I think it must be a spider walking over my skin, but then the something licks my hand and pokes its muzzle into the foxhole to lick my face. MacArthur.

"Oh, MacArthur, good boy," I say, petting his head. I begin patting the wall in front of me. MacArthur sticks his snout into the space to sniff, licks my hand again, and begins digging. He tosses up dirt behind him more quickly than we could have hoped to on our own, and he manages to create a small trench that we can slide out from. But MacArthur doesn't have the patience for us to climb out. He grips the back of my cloak with his teeth and drags me onto the ground first. Then Declan, and then my mom.

As soon as we are out, Gunther's soldiers begin firing in our direction, and MacArthur growls. I grab him by the scruff and hold him down so he isn't caught in the crossfire, and with my free hand, I slip the poem my dad wrote for me from my back pocket.

"Smell this," I tell MacArthur, placing it in front of his nose. He sniffs the paper, and, catching a scent, lifts his head to push out of my grip. He runs over to the toppled Beast.

"What was that?" Declan asks.

"A poem my dad wrote," I say, army crawling toward the nearest standing tree for cover. "MacArthur got a scent from it."

Mom and Declan follow me, and once we make it to the tree, we take turns sprinting out from behind it and diving under cover of the Beast.

That's when I see Dad just ahead of me.

MacArthur barks at him and pulls at his cloak with his teeth, but Dad shoos him away. He and Jacob are doing their best to lift the Beast, but it's no use. He looks at me and Mom with panicked eyes, but at least they're still full of life. He's alive. I race toward him and throw myself into his arms.

"I thought you died," I cry into his armor-plated chest. "I thought I'd lost you again."

Jacob is still hunched over, attempting to lift the Beast. "They're still under here," he tells us.

"Who is?" Declan asks.

"Carmine and General Kazemi. They were meeting to discuss tactics, and Todd and I left to take a leak. Next thing we know, the tank is on its side and they're underneath," Jacob says, all the while straining to lift.

Without a word, my parents and I reach down to join him while Declan stands watch with a gun in his good hand, but there's no way we can move it. I let go and drop to the ground. "General! Carmine!" I yell beneath the tank, but no one responds. Instead, a slow trail of blood spills out from the shadows. I shiver—from the cold, from disgust, from sadness, from the blood—and stand up. "They're dead," I say.