Chapter 27

I want to make it back before the Jotunn awake from their slumber.

I leave Casper's car just moments after he discusses what the game-plan is, settling down into my seat and closing my eyes right as the sun peaks over the rolling, snowy hills. Right as I'm about to doze off into a sleep of my own, the rustling of Jotunn suits brings me back to my senses, blue eyes fluttering open. The Warriors talk amongst themselves before one of the walks over and shoves his hand on Willow's shoulder, waking her up from her sleep. They do the same to me, even though I'm not asleep.

The Jotunn that wakes us walks into the other car to wake the rest of our group while the other few War-riors that stand around in our car go into the cockpit. Once I am sure we are in the clear, I look over to Willow and ask if she is alright.

She nods but doesn't expand, instead she asks, "Are we here?"

I shake my head. "You, out of all people, should know we aren't there yet, Kindred." I furrow my brow at her.

"Yeah? Well believe it or not, Bay, I'm a little disoriented right now."

"That makes two of us." I grumble.

She remains silent for a good seventeen seconds before she speaks once more. "Bay?"

"Hm?"

"I... I don't want to die." Willow croaks.

My mind automatically flashes back to Ema the day before I departed on this excursion. "Are we going to die?" She had asked. I made an empty promise, one I couldn't guarantee but a promise I wanted to keep. I remember her shoulders shaking as she bit down on her quivering lower lip before letting all the sobs escape her tiny body. I remember the feeling of helplessness wash-ing over me. The way I felt then is the way I feel now. I want to assure Willow that I will keep her alive, but I can't do that. I can't honestly assure her that she will live. I can't honestly assure her that she won't die. Willow is too smart, she could call my bluffs from a mile away. All I feel I can do is be honest.

"I don't either." I whisper.

+++

Hours later, the Jotunn took Willow and I and brought us into Casper's car once more. As I look around the area, we don't look like a very lively bunch. Demetria looks like a zombie—she's sickly pale and appears to be fidgeting. Willow shakes like a leaf next to me, murmuring a plethora of words under her breath that I can't quite make out. Avery's face is cracked and bleeding, telling me that she got into some sort of fight with a Jotunn's fist. Casper remains emotionless, staring blankly at the wall across from him. I am the only one looking completely calm, even though on the inside I am freaking out. I play my part well, convincing the Jotunn as best as I can that I am on their side.

"We are mere hours away from entering the capital of Exitium." The Warrior beside me booms as it places its hand upon my shoulder. "Baylee Areaux Zachary will be brought before the head Jotunn, where she will be tried, this way we can know whether or not she is truly a traitor. If she is deemed untruthful, she, along with the rest of you, will suffer consequences. Willow Marie Kindred, however, is to remain unharmed unless she doesn't do as directed unto her." It turns its helmeted head towards Willow. "Willow, you will join us in the cockpit for the rest of the ride. The rest of you may go back to your usual seating."

+++

The words echoed in my head over and over again. What consequence? What awaited for me in Exitium? If she is deemed untruthful keeps ringing in my ears. I try to interpret this, but no matter how I look at it, it doesn't sound good. The way I'm understanding this is deemed untruthful is referring to any time I lie. I could be wrong, but if I lie about anything the head Jotunn might ask, we all suffer consequences. My stomach churns and I feel like vomiting. How am I supposed to lie when everyone else suffers because of me?

My mother used to tell my father not to lie. She claimed he lied when he told me that everything in the world would be okay. She said he needed to be truthful to his daughter and not give me any false hope. At the time, I was only ten years of age and asked constant-ly about what went on outside of New York. My father would give me a brief run-down of the chaos happening around us but would always end it with reassurance that everything would turn out okay in the end. He would make up stories about him facing the Jotunn, trying to make light of the situation for me, that way it wouldn't be as dark and as heavy of a conversation. My mother despised this. But being that I believed my father hung the moon, I believed any word that came out of his mouth. I loved my father more than life itself, and I still do. He was my sanity in the midst of chaos.

+++

"Alright, Bay, you need to settle down before I can tell you the story!" My dad, Kole Zachary, laughs. The corners of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles. Mom calls them smile lines—these happy little memories that have been left overtime on his skin.

I always liked talking to Dad. He was the one who nicknamed me Bay, and it made me feel special, in a way. Then again, it didn't take much for a kid to feel special in their parent's eyes. Up until Dad died, Mom never called me Bay. I view it as she felt she needed to fill a gap that couldn't be filled and tried to keep things normal, as if Dad were still around. It only made matters worse between me and my mother, though.

Me, being eight years younger at the time, would settle down into my covers, pull the white sheets up under my chin and wriggle around until I found a comfortable position to lay in as I anxiously awaited story time with my father. During this time, my mother was heavily pregnant with the twins and our family was still that of a happy family.

"I'm ready, Daddy!" I shouted with glee, giggling all the while.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled as he pulled up a white wooden stool beside my bedside. "There was this time..." He began every story the exact same way every time, with those same four words. I absolutely loved it. "When I met a Jotunn face to face."

This is the part where I would shut my eyes as tight as possible and try to imagine the scenario playing out. It wasn't all that hard for me to imagine. My father—my hero—was brave and selfless. I could easily picture him standing up to the 'monsters'. The way the words fell from his tongue was as smooth as silk and overly calming to me. I loved to listen to him speak.

"Now the Jotunn was tall, much taller than me! I'd say around nine to ten foot tall!" He laughed and I giggled along with him.

"That's ginormous, Daddy!"

He laughed again. "And he was scary too! So scary that I get goosebumps any time I talk about him! Look, Bay! Look at my arms!" He held his arm close to my face. "My hairs stand straight up just thinking about it!"

I giggled again and patted his arm hairs back into place for him.

"He had these dark, almost empty looking eye sockets, and... and he had fangs for teeth! Kind of like those villains in your fairytale stories. He had a roar like a wild beast, similar to the lions at the safari exhibit." He smiled.

"I like the lions." I replied.

"Oh, but these are much worse than lions, my dear Bay Areaux! This Warrior would frighten everyone in its path and people would all flee—"

"Why would they flee?" I asked, cutting him off.

"They were scared!" He chuckled.

"Were you scared?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. Everyone fled, ran off! That is, everyone except for me."

"Why did you stay?" My small voice shook, fully engrossed in his story.

"Why be afraid of that which we know nothing about?" He smiled. "And besides, in that moment, it wasn't I who was afraid of the Jotunn Warrior, it was more like he was afraid of me!"

"Kole Garrett Zachary!" Mom shouted, poking her head through the open doorway, her brown eyes narrowing towards my father.

Dad would just sit back and laugh heartily. "Oh, come on Gracie. Kids can't have too much fun in today's world, at least not with Warriors running amuck. Let her enjoy herself while she still can."

"I don't need to hear another word." She frowns. "Baylee does not need to hear these stories anymore. Heavens, she is ten years old! Last thing I need her thinking is she can stroll up to a Jotunn and it be afraid of her! She's young, Kole. She doesn't understand what goes on outside of the protective walls of New York."

That's where I would've been able to call my mom out on the carpet. I knew more about the outside world than she or my father realized. It's as if it was programmed into my brain, the knowledge of World War III and all that went on during it. I was and currently am more aware of the outside world than anyone I know. Even though in this particular time I didn't watch the news, I knew enough to survive. I knew that everyday more and more Jotunn were making their appearance inside of the walls that surround New York's perimeter. They were slowly but surely making themselves known to the public. And my parents couldn't hide that from me. Almost every morning I would wake up to another agonizing scream of either someone being murdered for retaliating or someone witnessing and mourning the murders that took place in the town square.

"Oh, have a heart dear." My father laughed jovially. His laugh always made me feel warm inside. It made me feel safe. "Tell you what? Why don't you and that enormous pregnant tummy of yours get over here and give Bay and I a goodnight kiss?" He grinned.

Mother chuckled and walked over to the two of us, kissing me on the forehead and my father on the cheek. It was one of New York's laws to not display affection in public or in front of children, so my parents never kissed on the lips in front of me. Always on the cheek or on the hand.

"Goodnight, my love." My mother whispered, giving me one more kiss on the tip of my nose, a smile on her lips.

This, I will always remember, is when my mother smiled naturally, without having to force a smile on her face. This was when she was happy with her life, with her husband, with her children. I always loved Mom's smile, I just wish I could see it more often. Nowadays it's a constant scowl or a furrowed brow. Her lips are always sealed tight in a straight line. I miss my happy Mom and I fear now, after Dad's death, that I will never see her beautiful smile again. At least not a real, genuine smile. After Dad died, Mom became an alcoholic, putting liquor above anything else in life. It drowns her sorrows and numbs her pain. It wasn't an overnight ordeal, though. She began drinking when my dad was still alive, now she just does it more openly and without shame. It makes me sick. Mom doesn't care anymore, and she hasn't for quite some time. She would never be the same woman.

And for that matter, neither would I.