Our W.I.C.K.E.D Fate (The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl sequel)

3

Isabelle placed the newly-found food into her backpack and turned to Emily, who had backed away from the crate, still holding on to the message.

"What now?" she inquired.

Emily couldn't help but roll her eyes. "How should I know that?"

Isabelle just shrugged. "You're The Brain. I supposed you would."

Emily let out a short laugh and Isabelle smiled, dissipating the tension. She held out the bottle of water, and Emily accepted it with a graceful nod. Though they hadn't known each other for long enough to be sure the other was trustworthy, neither wanted to be alone facing whatever waited for them out there.

The girls didn't hesitate. They tackled the desolate expanse of desert one step at the time. The journey quickly proved to be very different from the inside of the labs—the wind was merciless, blowing sand into their eyes and mouths, making it almost impossible to breathe. The heat became unbearable minutes after their departure, sweat dripping down their necks and soaking their shirts. Emily's thirst grew worse with each moment, but she refrained from drinking any water; she didn't know how much more they had to walk and thought it better to save the precious liquid for as long as possible.

Despite the harsh, unforgiving conditions, Emily was aware that she couldn't give up—the blank holes marring her mind prevented her from laying down, encouraged her to put one foot in front of the other even though she felt as if she were melting. The hope that she could, somehow, reclaim the memories that had once belonged to her was enough to steady and propel her.

* * *

The sun began to melt into flashes of purple and orange, dark slowly closing in on the girls. Emily's lips were awfully rough when she licked them, the skin on her face stinging from sunburn. Before long, she caught sight of what once used to be a tall building and now was only a mere skeleton. The ruins seemed solid enough to be an adequate shelter for the night, and so the girls decided to check it out was safe before crashing there.

Once inside, Isabelle handed Emily some beef jerky. They both ate in silence, the concrete floor cold underneath their feet as they sat, backs pressed against the wall.

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we're actually going to arrive somewhere, eventually?"

Emily shut her eyes, inhaled. She recalled the thought she had awoken with, a thought she suspected was not hers and yet remained compelling, persistent like an itch she couldn't go without scratching, a chant she couldn't ignore.

Kill Group A.

"I remember something about a so-called Group A. This'll sound strange, but I . . . I think W.I.C.K.E.D wants me to take them out. I don't know why, or what and where it is, but I think we've got to find it," Emily said, then hesitated. "But not to kill them."

Isabelle was staring at her in disbelief. "Wait, what? W.I.C.K.E.D saved us. I bet something bad happened to us before all of this. This is why we awoke without memories. Maybe it was better for us to forget."

Emily shook her head. "It's called W.I.C.K.E.D, Isabelle. I might be The Brain, but anyone could've figured out there might be more to them than we know. I don't believe I need to kill this Group A, I believe they need to get rid of it and want me to do the dirty work."

When Isabelle didn't reply—only scoffed, as though Emily was infuriatingly and obviously wrong—Emily lay on her side. She closed her eyes, recalling the dialogue she'd heard during the morning once more. Was the boy somehow someone she needed to find? Did he belong to Group A?