Reach: The Spiral (Book One)

Chapter Eleven

ALEX

𝙰𝙻𝙴𝚇 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙳𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚆𝚃𝙷, toiling to keep Scarlet upright. She was nearing a frozen lake stretching twenty acres across. They'd ventured a good mile or so into this division, and, still, there was no cabin they could rest up in. What if Scarlet had been wrong about buildings existing in every zone of the world? Wouldn't that make the most sense, too? If participants knew what to expect before even reaching the next area, wouldn't that make the game predictable? Maybe there was a reason God designed it this way.

The wind carried a faint, frigid breath through the mist. Alex snapped her head towards the sky, then back down towards the path ahead. The forest continued on the other side of the lake, probably for another thousand miles. That would take forever to journey through, especially with conditions as extreme as these. And that was excluding Chrono and whoever else might be here; the other participants were just accessories that, honestly, Alex didn't see the point of. The Reach Project was hard enough without bloodthirsty maniacs blessed with power.

For that reason, Alex figured no one else could be trusted—all these freak abilities changed people, made them mad. Alex needed to focus on surviving. That was the number one priority.

With a grimace, she edged around the lake, watching the extravagant Spiral glow filter through the thicket. A branch sticking out from a birch-wood tree scratched her cheek, causing her to stumble forward, almost tripping into the frozen lake. She regained control just in time, breathing heavily with irritation.

"I don't see anything," said Alex. She pulled Scarlet up, feeling the weight shift from one shoulder to the other. "I don't know if I can keep walking like this . . ."

There followed an instant of quiet. A few footsteps later and Scarlet broke it: "Put me down here, sweetheart." Her voice was a little clearer but still frail and tuckered out. She gestured to a large tree trunk settled on the edge of the lake. Branches—meshed with winter woods and blue leaves—wove an intricate netting among which sticky foliage rested.

A canopy, thought Alex, placing Scarlet up against the tree and taking a seat next to her. They were panting heavily, though Scarlet's breathing had been a lot slower. Alex's stomach churned.

With the nausea came a deep state of mind and a prescient afterthought: We're going to die . . . This is the end. I'll never get to see my parents again, my friends and cousins and . . . Phoenix. What a fucked-up situation I got involved in. I sure wish I could go home and drink hot cocoa and forget about all that happened, because if that ever did happen—if I did win this game—nothing in my life after that would matter; I'd already have beaten God.

These thoughts sent her heart into a state of unbridled panic.

"Just let me rest here," said Scarlet, "when you get to my age you don't have as much energy as you used to." Slowly, as she gnawed at her own lips, a smile began to form.

Ignoring the irony in the statement, Alex nodded and said, "What are we gonna do? Please, I'm not good at doing stuff like this on my own."

"I hate to say this," began Scarlet, "but you're going to leave me behind if you want to live. I'll be weighing you down too much. We both know you're not strong enough to make it through this division with me at your side."

Suddenly, Alex was crying.

"What's wrong?" Scarlet said, concerned.

Alex struggled to speak. Right now was a painful moment, and for once it had nothing to do with being attacked or falling from the sky. Wiping away as many tears as she could, finding the right time to voice her objection—if she ever would—she looked at the woman and said, "I can't leave you. I can't. I'm not going to be able to survive on my own."