Free Evadere by Sara V. Zook Page B

of boxes, most of them stacked high and labeled. I trailed Jo.
    I watched her grab bottles of medicine and stuff them into the bottom of her shirt now made into a pouch like she had with the fruit. Rooney did the same thing. There were three contributors that I could see. They didn’t even seem to notice us. I ran my fingertips along the smooth glass of one of the bottles. I went to pick it up but then jerked my hand back. For some reason, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t steal it. I had cold feet. This was all just a game to get to the castle. I glanced up. Where was Jo? My palms turned hot and clammy. I squeezed my hands into tight balls at the sides of my body. The contributors I had seen were gone, too. Then I heard a chilling scream.
    Racing toward the noise, my heart pumped so fast it was as if I could feel it pulsating up into my ears. I felt ill as I made my way around a shelf and stopped dead.  
    In the corner of the tent lay Jo. A very burly, muscular contributor towered over her, a steel pipe clenched in his hands. I immediately wondered why Jo wasn’t running. I knew she wanted to get caught, but this man was going to kill her.  
    “Jo.” The word got caught in my throat and came out as a choked whisper.  
    Then the realization that she must be injured entered my mind. The contributor must have already hit her with the pipe. That was the only logical reason for her to still be in the position she was in.  
    A flash of movement caught my attention. Within seconds, Rooney was on the back of the contributor. He wrapped his thin arms around the thick neck of the contributor. He squeezed. The arms of the man flailed in the air helplessly by the surprise attack. Jo still lay on the floor of the tent propped up on her elbows now, her face aghast as she watched Rooney attempt to battle the strong man.
    Do something, I thought. Why couldn’t I move? Jo said this was a peaceful contributor group, yet here was this horrific fight going on before my eyes, and I stood paralyzed, the coward I was.
    The contributor’s face was beginning to turn red. Maybe Rooney could pull this off and take him down. Suddenly the contributor violently bent forward. Rooney was thrown from the man’s back, landing on the floor of the tent with a hard thud. He laid motionless for a moment, stunned from the traumatic fall. The brawny man rushed over to Rooney and swung his arms backwards, the steel pipe raised high in the air.  
    “No!” I heard someone behind me yell out.
    It was too late. The steel pipe came down forcefully. It collided with the bone of Rooney’s skull, crushing it to pieces.  
    I covered my mouth in horror. Rooney’s leg twitched momentarily and then … nothing. I heard Jo cry out and cover her eyes from the gruesome sight of her best friend’s head being brutally beaten in by a supposedly peaceful medical contributor. I collapsed to my knees, my eyes still locked on Rooney as if what I had just seen hadn’t really happened, as if he would suddenly come back to life and jump up ready to battle again.
    More contributors entered the tent. A woman hurried over to the man with the bloody pipe still locked in his hand as he angrily gazed down at the Scave he had just ripped the life from.
    “Put it down,” the woman cried, reached out for the weapon and taking it from him. “Leave them alone.”  
    He turned around and gave her a hard glare. Then he stomped away and exited the tent. A younger male walked over to Rooney and gazed down upon him. He put his hands up in the air and looked at the woman who wiped tears away from her cheeks before turning around to tend to Jo. Jo began to fight the woman who knelt at her side trying to examine her legs. She flung her arms wildly in the air trying to get the woman away.  
    “It’s okay, child,” the woman said in a soothing manner. “I won’t hurt you. It’s okay. Please, child.”
    I struggled to get to my feet again. I didn’t even know if I had the strength