Wednesday, August 08, 2012
The Infected: Fogo Island (12)
twelve: web of lies
We exit some odd tunnel that leads into the forest just outside the fortified walls that protected the makeshift camp that Malory and her people called home for a month. The men that accompanied Malory and I didn't leave the tunnel; once we were out, they simply shut the door behind us.
The wind was cold and fierce, blowing snow every which way. As I turned to shield myself, that is when my eyes caught sight of the pillar of smoke rising from behind the walls, the flames licking flirtatiously with the sky.
"What is happening..." I ask, confused.
Malory slips on a fur coat and stands beside me, arms crossed.
"That is your mother and her men. They want you; there is no end to the Olsen's cruelty. You all rot from the inside."
I gawk in her direction, slightly insulted. She doesn't even pay me any attention. Malory turns her back to her village and begins walking towards the heart of the island. I'm not familiar with the area but the road that twists through the forest lets me know that somewhere, sometime, we will come across a town. From experience, towns are never welcoming. Not for the living.
"So what's the plan, now? Now that you've abandonned your people?" I ask Malory, following her from close behind - looking back every so often to show what little respect I can give them. I wonder if Leila is there.
"I haven't left everyone behind. The important ones are waiting for us at the Northern tip of Fogo. Keeping you away from the hands of your mom and Robert Scott is our only plan right now." Malory answers, keeping her eyes on the scenery before them.
They aren't protected by walls and sentinels anymore. Whatever comes their way, they must fight off on their own.
"I heard that name before..." I let out, and before I can say anything else, it suddenly hits me that Greta is no longer with us. In every sense of the term, Greta has left this world. I'm here walking with Malory as if heading to the mall on a cold autumn's day. And Greta Price is dead. David is dead. Grams is dead. Even Victoria's death saddens me.
I look at Malory and only see fire in her eyes. There is no life, only flames, flickering back and forth.
"You mean Robert Scott?"
Malory stops walking and looks at me with that grin again, her rusty freckles and flaming red hair shining bright against the white landscape.
"You know, I really thought you were something special when you arrived. When my spies caught Aleksandra I was sure you were the mastermind behind some bloody takeover. That you and your little friends were trying to take from us what we worked so hard to achieve. But the more I get to know you, Charlotte, the less I'm threatened by you. It's absolutely pathetic how little you know."
"Says the woman who can't figure out what the cure is. You don't know any more then I do, Malory." I fire back, keeping my eyes trained on hers. Hopefully she'll continue talking and finally give me something to work with.
She sighs and rolls her eyes.
"I know that Robert Scott is the US Secretary of Defense and that he hired your parents to study a substance they found during Typhoon Tips' ravage of Japan. I know that they worked for two years straight to devellop a weapon that could be used to raise an army of warriors that felt no pain. I know that your parents hated each other and would have rather not having a child. I know that Denton Drake, my father, helped a struggling researcher and his wife with their new project in return for profit. And I know that my father sealed a deal with your parents to release that weapon against the world so they could make profit off the cure."
I don't say anything. Malory waits for me to answer. To say it isn't true. But I know it is. David was on to something, he knew about the deal between Drake Foods and my parents laboratory. My parents had created all this - they killed Grams. And David.
"So your Denton Drake's daughter?"
"Yes. I guess we both have family issues."
"I guess so." I answer vaguely, looking out towards the forest, towards the Northern tip.