Anomaly ━━ Matt vs Chris Sturniolo¹

𝖑𝖎𝖎𝖎. Dead Girl Walking

[ tw: dead bodies, small mention of self harm ]

𝖑𝖎𝖎𝖎. Dead Girl Walking

THIS IS NOT THE BLACKRUN.

Instead, Matt pilots a massive cargo jet, built to carry heavy transports or machinery. Now the cargo bay holds over three hundred escaped prisoners, many injured, all shell-shocked. Most are newbloods, but there are also some Silver among them, keeping to themselves, biding their time. For today at least, they all look the same: cloaked in rags, exhaustion, and hunger. Maeve doesn't want to go down to them, so she sticks to the upper level of the jet. At least it's quiet in this section, separated from the bay by a narrow stairwell, and from the cockpit by a closed door.

Maeve can't make herself move past the two bodies at her feet. One lies beneath a white sheet, stained only by the blossom of red blood on the back of his skull. Cyrus kneels over him, frozen, a hand under the sheet to clutch Maeve's brother's cold, dead fingers. The other corpse she refuses to cover.

Astraea looks ugly in death. Lightning twisted her muscles, pulling her mouth into a sneer even she couldn't muster while alive. Her simple uniform is cooked to her skin, and her ash-blonde hair is almost gone, burned away until only stringy patches remain. The other bodies, her guards, were just as deformed. They left them rotting on the runway. But the queen is still unmistakable. Everyone will know this corpse. Maeve will make sure of it.

"You should go lie down."

The body unsettles Weston, that much is clear. Maeve doesn't know why ━ she thinks they should be dancing on her bones, if anything. "Let Amelia check you out."

"Tell Matt to change course."

He blinks at her, perplexed. "Change course? What are you talking about? We're going back to the Notch, back home ━ "

Home. She scoffs at such a childish word. "We're going back to Tuck. Tell him, please."

"Maeve."

"Please."

He doesn't move. "Have you gone crazy? Do you remember what happened back there, what the Colonel will do to you if you come back?"

Crazy. She wishes. She wishes her mind would snap from the torture her life has become. That would be such a relief, to simply go mad. "He can certainly try. But there are too many of us now, even for him. And when he sees what I bring him, I doubt he'll refuse me this time."

"The body?" Weston breathes, visibly shaking. It's not the corpse scaring him, Maeve realizes dimly. It's me. "You're going to show him the body?"