Seventh 2 Survive (WAYHAUGHT)

22-2020

Wynonna continued to stare at her sister. "How exactly did you get here again?"

Waverly turned Wynonna's phone in her fingers, ignoring the question. "I have to trust them."

"Who?"

"Monks! It's my only option." She googled the location of the house. "Think, think, how do I get a message to them?"

"Waves, you're not making any sense."

Waverly stared at the address. "There's got to be a way. Oh, oh. Worth a try."

She googled the details of the church near the house. "Yes. Please, please someone answer. What time is it there?" She checked the time on the phone before keying in the unfamiliar number. "That would make it early evening, I guess."

The number rang, no reply. She ended the call. "Who are you calling?" Wynonna said, as Waverly tried again.

"Answer, answer." Her heart jumped at the sound of a man's voice. "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to get a message to the house near your church. The Retreat."

"I'm not sure I can," the man replied. "Is there no one with a phone there?"

Waverly had to think fast. "Err...no. I'm...err...in the hospital. The baby's very sick. Tell Haught to ring this number."

"Oh my. Of course. Yes, of course. I'm sorry, what's your name again dearie?"

Number written down, message repeated, Waverly hung up.

Wynonna's was staring at her. "Waves, what the hell is going on?"

"It's kind of complicated. Can I hold onto your phone for a while?"

"What's this about a baby?"

"I couldn't think of anything else. It's okay."

The church organist scurried along the path towards the house. Ringing the bell, a piece of paper in his hand, he smiled as the door opened, the first time he'd spoken with anyone there. "I have a message," he began, a little out of breath, and a little flustered.

Piece of paper held out, the young monk accepted it with thanks, closing the door quickly. She raced to the basement where Haught was being treated. "The thread has made contact. We can use this to locate their position."

"No!" Haught yelled. "She's no longer part of this."

The scientist took the message. "I suggest I go, and you," pointing to the elder monk. "She'll need someone she recognises."

"Don't do this," Haught pleaded. "Return me to R-17. Just don't hurt her."

The scientist smiled. "We won't. But you must trust us. You stay here."

"I go too," Haught insisted. "She won't understand if you go."

"You need to rest," the scientist instructed. "And, you need to hide."

The scientist followed the elder monk up the stairs, disappearing from view at the top. Haught scanned the room. Six against one. "Let me go with them," she begged. "I need to go."

The young monk folded her arms. "We need to get you somewhere safe. That's my orders."

It was no use. Outnumbered, and with only one good arm, she lowered her head, ashamed to show her emotions. The sight of Haught sobbing touched the young monk's heart. "They'll look after her," she soothed. "She'll be here soon."

"If she comes here," Haught replied, wiping her face with the palm of her hand. "If they bring her here, the Admiral will find her."

"Not where we're going. Follow me." Nicole looked through a watery haze. She didn't want to go anywhere, certainly not if Waverly was going to be brought to the house, the most obvious place the trackers to start looking. Their route took them to a wooded area, deeper and deeper, away from any discernible track, the young monk confident in her strides as she wound her way through the trees, arriving at a clearing.