New World Ashes (25 page)

I WAS BRIEFLY
airborne before I heard the shuffling feet and a slamming door. The room felt pitch black after the brightened hallways. I wheeled with my knife ready for attack, only to find a familiar hawk-nosed face in mine. My eyes searched wildly in the dark room.

“Easy… we’re here.” Triven said, winded. His voice sent a tidal wave of relief over my body. 

Twisting the blade back toward myself I shoved the woman standing in front of me. She shoved back glowering down at me.

“What the
HELL
?!  Fiona bellowed.

“There were soldiers—” I yelled back, but she cut me off.

“I KNOW!” She snapped. Pointing to her earpiece. “It was a rhetorical question. We had this damn thing planned flawlessly and practically everything has gone to shit!”

“Is Ryker being charged?” Triven asked as he slid Mouse down to the floor. It surprised me that he was the one to ask that question.

“I don’t know yet.” Fiona answered with a much more subdued tone. She seemed to shrink a little. “He was taken into The Minister’s office this morning, but no further information has been released as of yet. I have no idea if he is in the clear or if he is being held for questioning.”

I slumped back against the wall. Mouse took my hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. I brushed her tear-stained cheek with my thumb.

“Don’t get comfortable.” Fiona snarled. “We are leaving in twenty minutes and you have to get your packs fitted.”

Ryker had been right in leaving the packs to the very end. They were made from the same material as our suits. The frames were low profile, but heavy. Mine stretched from the nape of my neck to below my tailbone and weighed nearly thirty pounds. An additional thirty pounds may not sound like a lot, but it was enough to slow a person down or blow a knee if taking an unexpected impact. Upon inspection, however, the weight would be worth it. Both Triven’s and mine were filled to the brim with Sanctuary goodies. A few months’ supply of nonperishable food, a plethora of weapons that would make even The Master drool, military grade clothing, and maps.
Real
, photographic maps with notes and marked locations. The packs were a sick irony—they held everything we had once come here seeking.

Mouse had a small pack with mostly food in it. Triven was helping her put some of it into his pack to lighten her load. I was sure when he was done, she would mostly be carrying air. I watched them as I tightened my own straps.

Fiona stepped between us, blocking my view. Something was clutched in her hands.

“I’m supposed to give you this.” She kept her voice low. I examined the thing in her hands. It was a gadget like the one Ryker showed me on the rooftop. It could play videos on its tiny screen, and do many other things I was sure.

I stared at the flat device, unmoving. “Why would I want that?”

Fiona thrust it at me, jabbing me in the stomach with it. “I don’t really care if you want it or not. Ryker instructed me to give it to you. So I am following my orders.”

I stiffly wrapped my fingers around the screen, maintaining a fierce glare at Fiona. Feeling malicious, I grinned wickedly at her.

“How’s the nose, Fiona?”

Her lips twisted up. “Fine. It seems there were still some things for me to learn about combat.
Thank you.
I look forward to the day when I can repay the favor.”

I leaned in closer, returning her smile. “I would be happy to see you try.”

The watch on Fiona’s wrist beeped four times, but neither of us broke eye contact. It wasn’t until Triven cleared his throat loudly that both of us thawed to life again.

“I am assuming your alarm wasn’t just a friendly wake-up call.” Triven pulled his pack over his shoulders.

Fiona’s expression was kinder as she addressed him. “We will be leaving in six minutes. But we are not going out the same way,” she added seeing us move toward the sealed door. “Follow me.”

I let Triven follow directly behind her, not fully trusting that I wouldn’t punch her in the back of the head. Just for good measure. Mouse and I held hands as we moved past concrete rooms like the ones in Ryker’s home. In everyone’s home. When we came to the room that was ours, however, it was different. A small cot was crammed in the corner as a large cylindrical pipe took up much of the room. There was a makeshift man-sized hatch cut into it. Fiona checked her watch briefly and then began fumbling in her pocket.

I turned to Mouse, kneeling to her height awkwardly with the pack. “You okay?”

She bravely nodded her head, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Are you sure you want to come back with us?” I hadn’t had the guts to ask her that question earlier, for fear she would say no. But I needed this to be her choice. My parents didn’t give me a choice before dragging me into Tartarus. I didn’t want to do the same to Mouse.

Her hands brushed my cheeks, then pulled my face closer to hers. Mouse’s eyes had the depth of a much older person. As so many times before, she was scared but still sure of herself. Looking up at Triven then back to me she signed.
Family. Stay together.

“Together.” I nodded at her, repeating her favorite word.

“It’s time,” Fiona said.

Instead of opening the hatch as I expected, she pointed to the device in her hands. It was like the one she had given me. Then she pointed at the wall. As she slid her finger over the screen, a projection appeared on the concrete before us. It was the evening announcement. A well-manicured female soldier appeared. She opened her mouth to speak but before a single word came out, she was gone. The screen went black.

The photo of The Minister that hung in every home appeared on the screen. His bright eyes looked powerful and falsely charismatic. Ominous red words appeared at the bottom.
“Do you know who The Minister is?”
They faded out to be replaced by more.
“We do.”
His picture inverted suddenly, turning his healthy skin a violent shade of green and his eyes devilishly white.

My breath caught as I appeared on the screen. Not the me now, but the me then. There were other children this time too. Repeated footage of The Minister and his militia beating kids into soldiers, over and over again. Then the video I had seen appeared, not all of it, just the part where Fandrin beat his own granddaughter unconscious. It repeated twice, zooming in each time. You could see the flecks of spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed.

The image went blank for a moment, then the female soldier was back. Her slack face was white. Shock emitted from her every fiber. Helplessly she looked off screen for direction before the feed cut to a generic photo of The Sanctuary’s emblem.  Fiona turned off the screen and placed the device back in her pocket. Her face was stern as ever, but there was an unmistakable glint of pride. Grabbing three handguns from behind the cot, she tossed two of them to Triven and me. After checking her own, she twisted her wrist to examine her watch, eagerly counting the seconds.

“The fake location signal will be detected in ten seconds. Every military guard will be routed in that direction. We have two minutes to get you to the last drop off, then I must join the rest of the soldiers. We will have to run the entire way and even then it will be cutting it close.” She glanced at Mouse.

Mouse rose up on her toes looking offended. I squeezed her hand. “It won’t be a problem.”

Fiona grabbed the latch while still keeping an eye on her watch. “Once we’re through, the hatch will reseal itself. Just focus on keeping up. We shouldn’t have any interference but have your weapons ready.”

I checked my gun, taking off the safety and counting the bullets. Once satisfied, I grabbed Mouse’s hand. My eyes met Triven’s. His hazel eyes were so intense that it made my chest tighten.

“Five seconds.” Fiona counted.

We tensed for movement. My heart rate spiked as I glared at the back of Fiona’s head.
Thanks for the gun.
I thought. I still didn’t trust her, not really. As we had been passed on and led blindly by different rebels today, I knew for certain I didn’t trust them. But I also knew we didn’t have a choice.

Fiona braced herself to pull back the door.

“Now!”

She yanked open the door and was gone. I shot out into the hallway after her, clinging to Mouse’s hand. I was prepared to drag her, but her tiny legs pumped harder than I would have thought possible. She was proving herself. We were in the maintenance ducts again. They looked the same as the ones we had hidden in when I was shot.

Fiona’s long legs were gaining ground and I pushed harder to keep pace. I could have easily outrun her on a rooftop, but the pack was slowing me down. My legs were screaming under the extra weight but we kept moving. Fiona rounded the corner ten feet in front of us and a single shot rang out.

Before I could halt, her gravelly voice cried out, “Keep moving! One minute ten seconds.”

I rounded the corner, nearly tripping over the dead body of a young soldier. His weapon was barely out of his holster. Fiona’s bullet was perfectly placed, right between the eyes. I could not spare him much of a glance and pulled Mouse harder as we passed the dead boy. While the thought of making Mouse see more dead bodies churned my stomach, it was the same thing I would have done.

Leave no witnesses.

Fiona halted under a ladder with a black rectangle painted next to it. She bound up three rungs and knocked a rehearsed pattern. As she jumped back down the rungs, the door swung open. Pointing my gun into the blackness above us, I circled the ladder.

Fiona scowled. “GO!”

I still didn’t move.

Triven slid off his pack and climbed up, his gun at the ready. I pointed the barrel of my gun at Fiona. If Triven didn’t return, I would shoot her. She glared at me but said nothing.

I held my breath as his feet disappeared. My lungs refused to work again until his face reappeared in the opening, his soft voice calling out to us, “It’s okay.”

I lowered my gun. Reaching his hand down he waved to Mouse. She scrambled up to him as I grabbed his pack. Once he took it, I peeled off my own and handed it up too. The opening was too small to fit through with it on my back. Quickly, I shoved my gun into my boot. Since I had no intention of thanking Fiona, I began to climb.

My hand was barely on the first rung when Fiona grabbed my shoulder. Her dark eyes were nearly black. “Tell them whatever it takes to grow our army.”

I stared her pointedly in the face climbing up one more rung to make us the same height. “I won’t glorify your war just to gain you soldiers.”

“When are you going to realize this isn’t just
our
war,
your
highness
?” Releasing me, Fiona gave a mock bow and took off down the tunnel. I spit in her direction.

Fiona’s voice could be heard booming down the tunnel as I climbed the ladder. “Requesting coverage! Be advised, I have a soldier down in tunnel thirty-seven. DOA. Shooter is MIA underground! Repeat, shooter is
MIA
! I am en route to compromised location and need coverage in tunnel thirty-seven NOW!”

Once I was at the top, Triven’s hands helped pull me to my feet when I emerged from the tunnel. My fingers carefully retrieved my weapon as I stood.

I visually swept the room.

It was astoundingly bright despite its lack of windows. A chemical tang salted the air, clinging to my nostrils. It made my throat tighten. The entire ceiling glowed a sterile white, illuminating the bland grey floors and walls. The walls were completely barren except for one door and a large silver panel with a glass front on the wall opposite of us, brilliant flames lapping at the glass like they wanted to be set free. Three silver tables stood on wheels in the middle of the room.

Goosebumps rose over my flesh.

Two carts were empty but it was the third that caught my attention. A black sheet was draped over the third, covering something.

It wasn’t the sheet that bothered me.

It was the shape.

I had seen enough dead bodies in my time. I knew what lay beneath the black fabric. I lingered for only a moment on the unmoving cloth before turning my attention to the silent stranger in the room.

For a man of his great stature, he nearly blended into the walls. It looked as if all of the color had been drained not just from his face, but from his entire essence. He was dressed in head-to-toe black. The rich dark color only further washed out his pallid skin. He had a shock of pure white hair on top of his head and his skin took on an oddly translucent hue. It was as if he was withering away. The peculiar man was nearly as wide as a door, but his square shoulders hunched in on themselves, like he wished to disappear. 

He looked like death incarnate.

Mouse was clinging to Triven’s backpack, keeping it between her and the tall man. Her neck was bent back at nearly a ninety-degree angle to meet his face. She and I watched in stunned silence as the strange man reached out to Triven, addressing him by name.

“Triven Halverson. It is a pleasure to see you again. It has been many years.” He offered a spider-like hand to Triven.