Jungle of Creation

It couldn’t be. It just isn’t possible. I already know I can’t believe it as soon as the insane idea sprouts in my head. Every part of my body is telling me to trust my gut, but I just can’t. I have faith in my feelings. In Cole.

Cole is still gone on his rescue mission to get Ash. If that’s where he’s going at all. No. I smack the side of my head, trying to dispel all these stupid, stupid thoughts. It’s no use, though. Maybe Cole really did turn tail and run. If he is really who my instincts say he is, then he’ll avoid breaking Ash out at all costs. Maybe he was just playing me. He just wanted a taste before he left for good.

Vicious, angry tears begin sliding down my face. I can’t believe that. The Cole I know… The Cole I think I know would never do that. He made a lot of mistakes, but once he got to know me, he never actively tried to put me in danger. This one teeny, little thing means nothing. Just because he wasn’t wearing his bandanna doesn’t mean he’s a killer. He already broke me out and he’s already a fugitive, so why would he keep wearing it anyway? The part that my brain wants to snag on is that I can’t remember him taking it off after we left the compound. I can’t remember him even wearing it when he showed up to rescue me, or when he saw me about to escape. In fact, the last time I remember him wearing it is the morning I woke up after getting shot. Before the murder.

I shake my head fiercely. It can’t mean anything. It’s just a coincidence.

But now my mind really starts going. My instincts, my gut, and my panther all seem to be in cahoots. What about the sneaker prints? Mr. I-never-wear-anything-but-sneakers would leave a sneaker print, right? That’s almost a given. Especially in this wet rain forest dirt… I’ve never pointedly looked at his feet, but Cole is bound to have big feet, right?

And the shadow in town… The one that shot me. It was too far away for me to be sure, but the figure was definitely big enough to be a man…

It could’ve just been a local walking around at night, though. An average criminal.

I don’t know.

I bury my face in my hands before throwing a glance at Mama. She’s still fast asleep and probably will be for a while because of the sedatives they had her on. I raise my gaze to the sky, looking up at the canopy of green. All the basic jungle noises are there. The cawing, the tree limbs blowing in the morning breeze. Through the leaves above me I can just barely make out a mass of clouds. Great. Maybe we can get some rain so I can finally live out my fantasy of starring in one of those depressing movie scenes. The ones where tears are flowing down your face and the sky feels compelled to cry with you. Whatever that means.

I take one last glance at Mama before setting my senses on the place I never, ever wanted to return. Trudging through the thick jungle growth, my mind decides it’s appropriate to contemplate more “coincidences” concerning Cole.

Because that’s what they are. Coincidences. And I refuse to think of them as anything more until I have proof. I made a mistake with Ash, and I’ll try my hardest to never make that mistake again.

But if they’re only coincidences, then why was Cole never with us when we investigated a crime? How come he was suddenly finishing some “errands” when I heard Jane Doe scream? I know he’s capable of the act. He showed that much when he first met me and brought me into the compound by force. But, why? What motive could there possibly be?

S.C. told me that Charley’s blood and, by extension, Jane’s was genetically altered. That it was altered by the rival agency, Inception. They said the agency stole S.C. property and was blindly testing to develop a sort of superhuman drug. Why would Cole be involved with this rival? He’s been at S.C. for almost six years. He pledged his loyalty to them. What purpose would double crossing the agency serve him? Money? Power? No…

Of course, this is assuming Kline and Howard told me the truth to begin with. They’ve been manipulating me from the beginning. They’ve been using me from the beginning. Telling me lies just to gain my compliance. What makes this any different?

That fact is: I can’t trust anyone.

My paranoid brain is going a hundred miles a minute and I can’t stop. I feel like—for the first time since I discovered them—my powers are working against me. Every thought I have is turned against Cole in some way.

Like how his hand was cut when I first met him. He had his bandanna wrapped around the wound and told me it was from something other than my claws. Is it possible a shard from a broken syringe could have caused that cut? I mean, I didn’t meet Cole until a week after I left Brazil, but if the murder was recent enough and the wound was deep enough… I remember telling Dr. Howard about the bloody syringe. And…

And Cole was right outside the door. Getting me water. He easily could have heard. He easily could have raced to the crime scene to remove the evidence. He could have even removed it before then.

Oh God… What am I doing? I look up from where my eyes have been planted on my feet. I didn’t even have to look to know where I’d end up. Right back with poor Ms. Doe. I wish I knew her name. Suddenly, I want that more than anything. To stop calling her some random name and to be able to wish her a proper farewell. But it won’t happen.

Because of that heartless killer.

Could Cole really be heartless?

It didn’t feel that way earlier.

She’s still spread out like a goddess, and the rose is still resting peacefully on her chest. Even without a couple limbs, she is beautiful. I avert my eyes from her still, rotting frame and make my way towards the bush. As soon as I found the bandanna, I tossed it back into the bush like it was diseased. Hell, it might be. Now I reach right back in and grab the little piece of rag. I examine it closely. It’s dirty and tattered. But not bloody.

I don’t even know why I expected it to be. I just thought that maybe this would seal his fate. Seal my suspicions and paranoia. Nothing is there, though. Of course, he would have washed it or maybe even gotten a new one. This was just a stupid, silly hope that my concerns would be erased by looking at a piece of fabric. Of course my panther still isn’t happy. Why should she be?

I quickly turn tail and leave the atrocious sight before Cole finds me there.

It’s been about twenty minutes—maybe less—when Cole gets back. It feels like an eternity. My brain is a record player and my thoughts just can’t stop skipping. Paranoia. Deceit. Betrayal. All familiar. All painful.

The bandanna.

The syringe.

The cut.

The footprints.

Every time Cole was conveniently not there.

Every time Cole had that far-off, uncomfortable look in his eyes when we discussed the murders.

Every time Cole was so hesitant to get Ash back. She was—is—his scapegoat. The idea that Cole might run off and never return comes back to me. Maybe he did feel guilty for keeping my mother from me all this time. Maybe in some twisted way, he does care. Maybe he was repaying a debt, and now that debt is repaid. My thoughts are silenced, however, when he does return. In his arms lay a heavily beaten and bruised Ash. She’s unconscious, but I’m willing to bet that won’t last long.

“Amira, are you okay?”

I look up and make eye contact with Cole. He looks concerned. He doesn’t look like he was trying to ditch me. Maybe all of this was just in my head… He keeps staring at me and I remember he asked a question.

“Yeah. I’m good,” I answer in a soft voice. It’s the best I can manage. Cole looks at me with doubt plain on his face, but doesn’t say anything. I don’t blame him. I know I look like a zombie. Sitting on a pile of leaves, my legs are pulled up to my chest and my face is buried between my knees. I don’t have a mirror, but I know my eyes are red and puffy from crying. I’m weak. I know. He doesn’t have to rub it in.

I forcefully rub my face with my hands and push myself to my feet. I’m standing on pins and needles so I’m a little wobbly, but I ignore it and cross my arms over my chest.

“Umm… Where should I set Ash?” My eyes shoot back up to Cole’s and I huff a guilty sigh. I clamber out of my stupor long enough to rebuild a leaf bed and I help Cole gently set Ash down.

“She’s out for now, but we’d better be ready to run when she does wake up.” Cole chuckles lightly, calling for my attention. I wish I could let go of my suspicions. I wish I could go back to the kiss, before doubts began to eat away at my heart. What a difference an hour can make. Suddenly, I notice Cole’s hand on his side, clutching it lightly. He’s leaning a little too. Why didn’t I notice before?

The worries fly away for a second as I rush over to Cole and remove his hand so I can see the wound.

“Cole? Cole, are you okay?” It’s just a little cut. A little nick right through his shirt, though it is bleeding quite a bit. I hover my hand just over the cut, not wanting to hurt him. Reaching down to the hem of my shirt, I rip a little piece and dab at the wound. I wish I had alcohol to clean it. Or water. Anything would be better than this.

Cole’s chuckling again but I’m not paying attention. I hardly notice anything other than the gash in front of me. “Amira.” I’m not listening. Zoning out is better than all the thoughts I’ve been having lately.

“Amira.” I distantly hear Cole make a little clucking sound that would’ve been funny any other day. Suddenly my hand isn’t moving anymore.

“Amira.” I look up, startled. Cole’s face is right in front of mine, inches away. His crystal eyes so foreign and familiar all at once. Looking down, I see my wrist is trapped inside Cole’s hand, keeping me captive. Staring at our joined hands, I feel tears begin to trickle down my cheeks, betraying everything I’m trying to keep hidden. He couldn’t have done it, right? Right?

Cole’s other hand comes up to wipe my tears and stays to cup my cheek. “Amira…”

My watery gaze meets Cole’s. There’s just no way that someone incapable of love could look at me with so much emotion and care. Cole leans in slightly and brushes his lips against mine. Just in a caress.

“Amira, what’s wrong? Is it your mom? Is it too much?”

Seeing him looking at me like that, with something akin to love, breaks me inside. I know I can’t keep my doubts from him. I won’t condemn him like I condemned Ash. Even as my very being tells me not to tell him, to not to give away the element of surprise, I can’t help it. Don’t be stupid. You’re an idiot. Don’t be stupid. You’re an idiot. It’s my ongoing mantra as I abandon all reason and ask the question haunting my nerves.

“Cole…” My voice breaks and I breathe deeply, steadying myself, as Cole looks at me expectantly. “Cole, did… Did you hurt Charley? Did you hurt those people?” I can’t bring myself to be more direct. It doesn’t matter, though. I expect Cole to yell at me, or to ask me if I’ve gone insane. I even wait for the moment he pulls out a knife and sinks it into my chest. Can’t leave any witnesses.

He does none of those things, though. He simply lets go of my hands. And lets go of my face. He slowly stands up and backs away. There’s an indescribable mask on his face. It’s full of pain, and surprise, and hate, and love, and longing. Most of all, there’s guilt. Telltale guilt that gives me my answer without Cole even needing to.

“Amira, I’m so sorry.” He’s not even denying it. I have no substantial proof and he won’t even deny it. I would trust his word. If he said he didn’t do it, then I would believe him. He doesn’t play off my trust, though. He just lets his guilt and pain speak for itself. If I wasn’t feeling so much hurt at being betrayed, I’d be happy that he chose not to lie to me. How many people can blindside me? How many people can play me? You fool me once, you fool me twice…

“Why? Why?” Was that me? Did I just speak? I don’t remember saying anything, but I must have because Cole answers.

“I had no choice. I wish I did, but I had no choice.” Cole’s voice is soft and broken. Nothing like the cocky speedster I’ve come to know. Now he just reminds me of a scared little boy. Our eyes meet in one more regretful glance before he’s gone. The spot where he was standing, only feet away, is only inhabited by rustling leaves.

I tell myself it’s for the best. I wouldn’t trust Cole around Mama or Ash, or me. Still, I feel a pit from my chest all the way down to my stomach. Still, I fall onto my hands and knees and sob for who knows how long. A murderer. Cole is a murderer. A murderer of bodies, a murderer of hearts. I did just what I said I wouldn’t do. I fell into the trap of another manipulator.

No. I stand up and brush the dirt off my clothes. Looking over at Mama and Ash, I inhale a deep breath. They’ll be up soon. We need to move out. The compound is bound to come searching this part of the woods at any point. We need to leave and we need to find water. We need food and clothes. We’ll do this day by day.

One thing is certain, though. I may not be able to see Dad and Lyla now, but that can be remedied. The agencies should have thought their moves through before they pulled me into this. I’ve lost everything, but I’m getting it back. This is war.