The Deathless Trilogy

1.28. The Meaning of Deathless

I am awoken by Sato's foot nudging at my back. "Get up," he says. I look up at him and see he's holding shackles in his hands. I'm a prisoner now. "Time for chores," he says. My entire body is stiff from last night's fight, as if my scabbed over wounds are now holding my body in one painful position. I stretch and feel a sharp, stabbing pain throughout the left side of my body.

I clear my throat. "I'm not the mole, General," my tired voice squeaks.

"Whatever you are, it was your frequency signal that led the droids here, so now it is your responsibility to help clean up their mess. Let's go," he says, motioning for me to hold out my hands.

I do and he secures the shackles to my wrists, then bends down and straps the other cuffs around my ankles.

"Follow me," he says. There are bags under his eyes, probably from staying up all night to plan the counterattack.

I follow him out into the great room.

"Where's my mom?" I ask.

"She's meeting with the oncologist Dr. Guzman in the detention center, as planned. She'll be well taken care of. We have Dr. Kunkle with her now."

"Did you check anyone else for frequencies? I promise you I am not the mole."

"We did."

"And?" I ask.

He stops and turns back to me before exiting into the early morning sunlight. "No one else showed signs of frequency waves. Whether or not you realized it, you led the droids here."

"That's impossible, it wasn't me. It was Nate!" I yell from frustration, but my throat is so scratched that the words hardly come out.

He puts his palm up to my face to silence me. "I suggest you just stay quiet."

He pushes the door open and leads me into the dawn. Wood chips, fabrics, and furs are scattered around the camp, rolling against the dry dirt. Sleeping bodies are gathered in the dining areas, guarded by armed Deathless soldiers. On the shoreline is a pile of limp bodies, and in the lake rests three dead Prowler machines. The others are scattered throughout camp and in the surrounding arid lands.

General Sato leads me toward the pile of lifeless bodies. There's a jerrican of gasoline beside the pile, and Sato lifts it from the ground. He shoves it into my shackled hands, and says, "Pour."

I begin immediately—not because I want to—but because the smell of gasoline might be strong enough to block out the smell of decomposing flesh; but it doesn't. It only makes me more nauseated.

I shake the rest of the gasoline onto the soldiers at the bottom of the pile and step away. The General stares at the pile for a few moments before pulling a box of matches from his pocket. He quickly strikes a match against the box, and throws the tiny spark into the pile. Within seconds, it transforms into a great mess of flames, and I have to back up so I won't be engulfed in it.

The General places the matches back in his pocket, and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. He opens it slowly, like a morning glory opening for the sun, and hands it to me.

"Read it," he orders over the crackling of the flames.

I look at the paper and see it's a poem called "A Soldier's Walk Toward Death." I clear my throat and read, but the smoke stings my eyes. All I can do is focus on getting through the words until a wind blows the smoke dust away from me.

"Walking now toward death,

Only one path to choose.

Wasting away with my last breaths,