The Girl who Saved the World (Death Fields 6)

“Keep walking. Hands behind your back,” the guard says, pushing me along. “And no talking.”

I stand between my dad and Wyatt, who leans over and whispers, “Guns everywhere. In the stands. Behind the PA system.”

They may not be visibly restrained but no one here is free to move.

“I said no talking.” The guard repeats.

The crowd roars with energy, eager for the event to begin. It’s been a long time since stadiums were used for something positive and I can feel the hope vibrating off the stands. A make-shift marching band sits at the base of the stage, most likely holding scavenged instruments. I don’t know the last time I heard music played, live or otherwise. Occasionally back on Erwin’s bases someone would have a guitar and an older woman in Catlettsburg played the piano in church on Sunday mornings. But that was a long time ago and music is a type of noise that’s considered a death wish in the Fields. But here? It’s another symbol things are back on track. Hamilton knows what he’s doing.

A shout ripples through the crowd. Several people stand and they’re looking and pointing at the stage. We’re close enough to hear the murmurs.

“Can you hear that?” I whisper to Wyatt. I glance at Sophia who is nearest to the edge of the stage. “What are they saying?”

“Something about ‘the girl’…’” Wyatt says.

Sophia doesn’t move an inch but replies, “They’re saying “Is that the girl who…’” She looks at me sideways. “They’re talking about you.”

“Me?”

Sophia cracks the hint of a wary smile. “You’re famous. A legend.”

“Quiet!” grunts a guard. I feel the sharp point of a gun in my back.

Before I can react, I spot the conductor of the band stand and he exchanges nods with a guard near the tunnel. He takes his place before the musicians and lifts his baton. Soon, wobbly notes come from the brass instruments followed by the vibration of drums.

Hamilton and Perez emerge from the tunnel at the same time, followed by a string of people. He looks striking in a military uniform, handsome and confident. I’m sure he didn’t earn the medals that flank his breast. Perez wears a nice outfit, including her shoes—the kind that will get her killed in the apocalypse. The crowd jumps to their feet, applauding their new leaders. I recognize a few faces from Winston-Salem’s Council and the woman that directed our orientation in New Hope. Next to Hamilton is the most familiar person—Zoe. Dressed in a flattering outfit, her face blank, although her eyes scan over us as she passes. Of course, Hamilton called for her the minute they arrived.

The entire group files out of the opening and take seats across the stage. Hamilton and Perez take their places in the center and wait for the music and cheering to die down.

“Thank you,” Hamilton says, nodding and smiling with the crowd. He does nothing to stop the cheering—instead bouncing along happily. He reaches out to Perez and spins her around with glee. Sophia is right. It’s a celebration.

Finally, he hushes the people and steps to the edge of the stage. “Thank you all for the warm welcome. Thanks to the Council and Council Chair Perez for the hospitality and taking care of my daughter Zoe as she traveled ahead of my team. I’m thrilled our cities are forging together to create peace and prosperity. Our two communities, along with the other Safe Cities our esteemed government had the foresight to create, will be the catalyst for a new and bright future.”

A rash of cheers churn in the audience—even some chants. Again, Hamilton waits this out for a moment before continuing. “We’ve survived terrible days. We are bound to have more ahead. We’re not through this yet but I see a light at the end of this journey, one without disease and infection or life-altering parasites. One without monsters that infect and kill at random. One without criminals and deviants terrorizing our families. We will live in a world with medication and vaccines. One with big, beautiful walls that protect us at from the monsters still roaming the country side—because trust me—I was just out there. The monsters aren’t gone. Not yet, and some are scarier than you realize. Some,” he looks conspiratorially at the crowd, “are in the stadium right now.”

The crowd gasps and looks at their neighbors. Fear ripples like a current. I can feel it all the way on the stage and without thinking shout, “Stop fear-mongering! There’s nothing to be afraid of in here but his rhetoric!”

I’ve taken several steps away from where I’m supposed to be standing and I feel the trained weapons on my forehead, ready to take the shot. Hamilton looks over at me, a slight amused smile on his face. Instead of ordering my death he waves me over. I stand frozen, unsure as to what I’ve done, and a look over my shoulder reveals the scared and horrified faces of my friends.

Walker, on the other hand, looks down right entertained.

Hamilton leans into the microphone and says, “Come here, Alexandra, the people would love a chance to meet the girl behind the legend.”

Another wave rustles the crowed, this time more curiosity than anything else. People are peering over one another to take a look. I walk forward, hands still tied behind my back. I’m filthy compared to everyone else on stage and my head pounds from Davis’ knock-out drug. I know my eyes are red from crying over Cole, but that’s why he wants me out here. To dispel the myth. I’m not the girl who can do the things they’ve heard about. I’m the girl who is nothing more than a hot mess.

“Many of you have heard of Alexandra Ramsey. Famous for helping eradicate the Eaters from much of the south. And most of you have probably heard the rumors about the darker side of the Death Fields. The biologically manipulated Hybrids who are immune to the infection but maintain enormous strength and skill. Alexandra assassinated their commander. Everything you’ve heard about this girl is true. She’s the real deal. A fighter and loyal sister and daughter. She’s sacrificed so much for this country.”

A new wave of cheering bursts through the audience, so loud I can feel it rattle my bones. But there’s something else causing the chill up my spine. It’s the way Hamilton speaks about me. The way he looks at me. The words coming out of his mouth do not reflect his actual feelings. It only takes a moment for the next shoe to drop.

“Why is she tied up?” someone in the crowd shouts. And others start wondering too. Another wave of chanting starts.

Let her go

Let her go

Let her go

Hamilton does his magic and the audience settles. “I know it may seem cruel to have Alexandra restrained, but not all heroes are what they seem. This girl is a deadly killer. A traitor to the human race. She assists the very monsters that threaten our society. She aids them. Spends time with them and very recently attempted to become one of them herself.”