Authors: Norma Hinkens
I let out a relieved sigh, thankful she has a diversion so I can think this through properly. “Let’s go over our options,” I say motioning everyone to sit down. “We’ve established that there are people living here. We just don’t know who, yet.”
Sven bars his arms across his chest. “I can scope the place out. Find out how many sentries they have posted. Watch their movements for a few hours.”
Jakob shakes his head. “We don’t have time for all that. Panju's lost too much blood.”
“A couple of us could circle around behind the building the sentry is in and try and find another way in,” Trout says.
“And then what?” I ask.
“Go building to building until we find someone who’ll help us. Once they realize we’re not a threat, they’ll take us to whoever’s in charge.”
I rub my hand across my forehead. “Except we don’t know for sure that they’re even Undergrounders. I like the idea of keeping the element of surprise, just as a precaution.”
“Is too late for that!” Won says, jumping up. He gestures frantically over my shoulder with his bound hands.
I scramble to my feet and spin around. My blood chills. A little girl in a tattered blue skirt is clambering over the rubble toward the city in full view of the sentry.
A
fist
of fear slams my gut. I snatch the binoculars from Trout and focus in on the gutted doorway where we spotted the sentry. A flurry of activity breaks out there. Two—three figures in the doorway, another one skulking inside the concrete frame for cover. One of them points at Izzy. My legs almost buckle beneath me.
“They’ve spotted her,” I say in a hushed tone. “There’s four of them up there now.”
I pass the binoculars back to Trout in a daze. I was worried Izzy would complicate things, but I never anticipated anything like this. If something happens to her, I’m responsible. I’m the one who brought her here, who promised to get her safely to her brother.
“They kill us now!” Won wails.
Sven shoves him back down in the brush. “Keep your trap shut.”
“He’s right,” Rummy says, throwing me a look of disgust. “You let that dang kid gave you the slip, and now our number’s up. She’s going after her brother, ain’t she?” He leers up at me. “Blood’s thick—least
most
o’ us feel that way.”
I clench my fists and will myself to walk away. Rummy’s never going to let me forget that I left my brother behind. Not that I ever could blot out the memory. And now if something happens Izzy, I’ll have that on my conscience too.
I shield my eyes from the morning sun, and study Izzy’s progress in the distance. I wish I had Sven’s enhanced vision. Without the binoculars it’s impossible to tell what’s happening in the lookout building, but it’s a fair bet to say they’re trying to decide what to do about Izzy. “What do you see, Sven?”
He jerks his head in the direction of the building. “The sentry just gestured down at Izzy again.”
“Looks to me like they’re arguing about what to do,” Trout says. He hands me the binoculars, a somber look on his face. “Just say the word and I’ll go after her.”
I flick him a grateful smile. “I know you will. I’m just not sure that’s the best thing. They can see she’s a little kid. But they might start shooting if they see you.”
I study the darkly-clad figures as they move around on the top floor of the crumbling building. They observe Izzy for several more minutes as she totters across the debris in the direction of the city, and then three of them disappear back through the doorway.
I rub my fingers around my temples, willing the stabbing pain to go away. I wish I could be sure they were Undergrounders. If they’re Rogues, and one of us goes out there after Izzy, they’ll shoot to kill without question. I take a deep breath. It’s risky, but it’s better to take the risk than do nothing at all. And it’s mine to take. It’s the only way to find out who we’re dealing with, and still give Trout, Jakob and the others a fighting chance to blaze a trail out of here if they have to.
I grab my pack and pull out the closest thing to white I can find—a dingy gray sweatshirt that’s falling apart at the seams. I shake it out and tie the frayed sleeves to a stick. Tucker wags his tail expectantly. Reluctantly, I signal to him to stay.
“I’m going after Izzy,” I say, handing my pack to Trout. “If they start shooting, I want you and Sven to get the others out of here right away. Head straight for the wilderness.” I lock eyes with Trout. “Don’t come after me, no matter what.”
Jakob grabs my arm. “I’ll go with you.”
I shake my head. “Panju needs you here.”
Jakob’s eyes cloud over. “It’s too dangerous, Derry. We should make some kind of plan first, at least find a vantage point to cover you from.”
“If they won’t shoot a child, maybe they won’t shoot a girl either. They might think I’m her sister.” I lean down and ruffle Tucker’s neck and gesture to him to lay down. “You’re in charge of Tucker until I get back.” I can’t meet Jakob’s eyes. If I don’t make it back, he’s the only other person I can trust to take care of Tucker now that Owen and Da are gone.
Sven frowns. “I have the best chance of reaching Izzy and bringing her back safely. I can outrun all of you.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re a definite threat. They’ll shoot you on the spot, and clones aren’t bulletproof. I learned that the hard way.” I finger the pouch with Mason’s ashes in my pocket and blink back a sudden tear. I promised myself I’d give Mason a proper funeral when the time is right. I’m not sure that time will ever come, but at least if I die, I’ll die with a part of him with me. “I’m the one insisted on bringing Izzy here, and I’m gonna see this through, however it plays out.”
“What if they take you hostage?” Trout asks.
“Wait for me until sundown. If I’m not back by then, head for the wilderness. You still have Won and Rummy as bargaining chips.”
A flicker of doubt crosses Trout’s face. He rubs his one-knuckled finger, frowning. “Panju won’t make it to the wilderness.”
I throw a quick glance across at the motionless figure on the stretcher. “I know. I’ll be back with help as soon as I can.”
He exchanges an uncertain look with Jakob. I know what they’re thinking. If I don’t come back, Panju will be dead before nightfall.
I tuck my hair inside my collar and reach for my gun. I accused the Council members of being a pack of cowards for abandoning Owen, but right now fear is wreaking havoc on my mind. I’ve put myself out there as a leader, it’s time to pay the piper.
Jakob’s eyes glisten with emotion. He reaches down and rubs Tucker’s head. I swallow hard. It’s a subtle signal, telling me they’ll both be all right. I turn away and grip my makeshift surrender flag in both hands.
“Good luck.” Trout pats me awkwardly on the shoulder.
I nod good-bye to Sven and he gives a quick bob of his head in return. If he’s afraid, he doesn’t show it. His face is oddly devoid of emotion, like only a clone can accomplish. In his mind he’s in the zone he was trained for. For that I’m grateful. I know I can rely on him to do whatever it takes to get Trout and the others safely out of here if need be.
I peer into the distance at Izzy’s retreating back. As young as she is, somehow she’s found the grit to keep going, despite what happened to her parents. She’s determined to find her brother. The least I can do is follow in her footsteps, and reach inside for my own courage. I raise my flag and steel myself for whatever happens when I step out from behind the cover of the brush.
A sudden pounding of hooves in the distance makes me lose my footing. The ramshackle flag flies from my grasp. A heavy hand grabs me from behind and yanks me back down beneath the undergrowth.
“Riders!” Sven hisses at me.
I flatten myself on my stomach and worm my way to the edge of the brush as two figures on black horses exit the city. They gallop straight toward Izzy, dust spiraling up from the horses’ hooves. My pulse races erratically as they draw ever closer to the tiny figure I swore to myself I’d protect. Suddenly, they veer apart, and the rider on the left swings low in the saddle and scoops Izzy up. She screams, shrill and brief. As if on cue, the horses turn sharply, barely breaking stride, and gallop back toward the city.
It’s all over before I have time to process what happened. They took Izzy, but did they see me too? Have I put everyone in danger? Sven moved swiftly to pull me under cover, but there’s no way to know for sure if they spotted me or not.
“Do you think they were Undergrounders?” Sven asks. “I couldn’t tell with the bandannas over their faces.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen an Undergrounder ride like that.”
I get to my feet and retrieve my pack.
“They didn’t hurt Izzy, so that’s a good sign,” Sven volunteers.
“It doesn’t mean she’s safe. And we’re not either. They’ll grill her to find out what they need to know about us. We have to lay out a plan in case they come back with more riders.”
“If they’re Undergrounders and Izzy’s brother is with them, they’ll send help,” Trout says. “Maybe we should sit tight for now. Panju's in bad shape. It’s best not to move her unless we have to.”
I throw a quick glance her way. “We’ve got to get her inside the city. It’s her only hope. I say we split up. Sven and I will take Panju and go after Izzy. If the situation turns hostile, the rest of you can still get out of here.”
“Sven can’t go with you,” Jakob says, frowning. “His size is a red flag that he’s not one of us. He’ll put you and Panju in danger of getting shot at before you have a chance to explain our situation. I’ll go instead.”
Trout raises his brows at me. “Jakob’s right. You don’t want that sentry getting trigger happy before you have a chance to plead your case.”
I hesitate before responding. Jakob gives me a loaded look that’s asking why I picked Sven over him to begin with. We always promised each other we’d be together at the end, and we might just be walking into it.
“Panju's pulse is weakening,” Jakob adds, quietly.
Sven turns to me. “What do you want to do?”
I avert my eyes and suck in a silent breath. “Okay, Jakob and I will take Panju. We’ll circle around and enter the town from the west. That way if they send out riders to intercept us, they won’t stumble on the rest of you.”
“We’ll wait here ’til dark,” Trout says.
Jakob adjusts the coats covering Panju. We pick up the stretcher between us taking care not to roll her to one side.
Rummy gives a curt nod as we pass by. “No soldier left behind, eh?”
I give a stiff grin. His words have a hollow ring to a guilty conscience like mine, and he knows it.
J
akob
and I move silently into the brush, the saggy nylon swaying precariously between us. A sea of saplings rises to greet us from the moss—new growth from this spring. A sliver of hope stirs inside me. The air here can’t be all that toxic anymore if plants are thriving.
“Doing okay?” I call up to Jakob.
“So far so good. She’s even lighter than she looks.”
“Yeah, but we’re an easy target,” I say, adjusting my grip. “Keep your eyes peeled for trouble.”
Jakob grunts. “It’s obvious we’re not a threat.”
“Rogues won’t care about that.”
“My hunch is those riders weren’t Rogues,” he says. “I’ve never seen subversives ride horses.”
“It’s not the riders I’m worried about, it’s Blade.”
We fall silent, sobered by the thought that Blade is still at large, hunting for his brother, and revenge. I know he won’t rest until he finds us, and right now we’re vulnerable.
“Watch your step,” Jakob says after a bit. “There’s water up ahead.”
The sun glints off a snowmelt stream sucking its way down through the moss.
“Let’s top up our canteens,” I say.
We lay Panju down in the shade and slide our packs from our shoulders.
I rummage around for my empty water bottle. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Jakob scramble up the slope and fill his bottle from a fast-moving section of the stream.
My eyes drift to half-mast, lulled by the subtle swishing of the creek. When I recognize the eerie whoosh, it all flashes in front of my eyes too late. The articulated silver arm snakes past me and latches onto Panju. Her desolate, scream brings my heart to a standstill.
I
jump
up in time to see Panju disappearing into the belly of a Hovermedes. Goose bumps needle my arms. I turn and charge up the slope to Jakob who’s on his knees by the stream, a frozen look of horror on his face. “Run!” I yell, desperately trying to pull him to his feet. He stares blankly at the empty stretcher where only a moment earlier Panju had lain. I shake him by the shoulders until he turns a glazed look on me.
“We have to go, Jakob! Now! Before it comes back for us!” I grab his hand and yank it. The sudden motion brings him to his senses and he reaches for his pack and scrambles to his feet. Without another word we break into the flight of the hunted.
My heart pumps like a fist of steel pounding my ribs. There’s no way we can outrun the tube. Our only chance of escape is to lose the ship by penetrating deep into the forest’s understory. I carve my way blindly forward, ducking and weaving, terrified the tangled brush will thin out at any minute and expose us to the Sweepers’ lethal extraction weapon. I snatch at breaths that rip my throat as I try desperately to increase my pace and distance myself from the river. More than once, I sense Jakob floundering at my side, and I yell at him to keep moving.
My limbs whip like the wind as I run, but my mind clogs with a paralyzing concoction of guilt and despair. It’s my fault Panju got extracted. I’m the one who wanted to stop for water. I was so focused on panning the brush for Rogues that I neglected to watch the horizon. I should have known better than to let down my guard even for one minute when Panju was so defenseless.
“Wait! I can’t go—” Jakob lets out a gasp and doubles over at my side.
Terror claws at me. He can’t stop now. Not when a Sweeper tube could snatch him from me. I can’t lose Jakob too. “You’ve got this!” I scream. “Don’t give up!” My voice comes out in a staccato burst as I gasp for breath.
The brush grows increasingly impenetrable; wheatgrass, bitterbrush and ferns converging in a windowless sea of green. Our progress slows to bushwhacking pace, but I’m thankful for the proliferation of dense cover. Jakob pulls out his canteen and takes a swig of water. I look away, nauseated by the sight of the fatal element that sealed Panju’s fate.
“They can’t track us now,” Jakob says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “We can rest here for a bit.”
“No!” I grimace. “They extracted Tucker from a well-concealed trail. We need to go deeper.”
Jakob glugs down the rest of his water while I pace back and forth, eyes roving over every inch of our surroundings. The last thing we need is to be caught off guard by Blade on top of everything else.
Jakob stuffs his empty canteen into a mesh side pocket on his pack and gives me a tense nod to indicate he’s ready.
We load up, and thrash our way through several hundred more feet of tightly woven understory before stumbling out into a small clearing. Startled, I circle around like a caged animal, scanning the area, and the sky above, for any sign of threat. “There’s a trail,” I say, pointing to the far side of the clearing. “Quick! Get back under cover.”
I dart across to the pathway and pull up short when I see the shadows nestled beneath the trees. Too late to evade them. My eyes bulge in disbelief. Two female riders on horseback, dressed in plaid, button-up shirts and weathered chaps block my path. I beat a steady retreat, one foot behind the other, bumping into Jakob when I reach the edge of the clearing.
Slowly, the riders approach, their horses’ nostrils flickering as they pick up our scent. The taller, more thickset woman circles her horse around us. She looks us over with an air of distrust, reins taut in her left hand, her right hand curled around a pistol. Jakob steps protectively in front of me.
“Sweepers!” I blurt out. I jab my finger in the direction we came from.
The woman’s face tightens. She tilts the brim of her hat in her companion’s direction, then pulls on her reins to halt her horse. Wordlessly, she holsters her pistol and stretches out a gloved hand to Jakob. He turns to me, a questioning look in his steel blue eyes.
“Go!” I say, giving him a push up. He grasps onto the stranger’s hand and, with a deft maneuver, she swings him onto her horse.
The smaller woman brings her horse alongside me and pulls back abruptly on the reins. She thrusts out her hand. “Hurry!” she barks, throwing a perturbed glance over my head. I grab on to her cracked, leather glove, and swing myself clumsily up onto the bare back of the horse behind her.
“Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight,” the woman says.
I shift forward nervously. I don’t know much about horses, but I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be a saddle under me right about now. Before I have a chance to open my mouth to ask for a few pointers on staying seated, the rider gives the horse three rapid kicks in the side and we’re off, blitzing past Jakob in a single stride.
Instantly, the air leaves my lungs. I’ve never even ridden a horse before, much less gallop bareback on a narrow forest trail. Every bone in my body feels like it’s shaking loose. I cling like an orphaned monkey to the woman’s waist, trying not to cry out every time we leap in the air over some wayward obstacle I don’t dare open my eyes to look at. Each time the horse veers left or right, I slide precariously from one side to the other. It takes all my concentrated effort, using uncharted muscles, to stay upright. Tentatively I open one eye, my heart halfway up my throat. We leap over a downed log, and the woman’s long, ponytail whips up and down in my face. I spit out a strand of hair, and try not to hyperventilate when my head jerks and I bite my lip. I desperately want to make sure Jakob’s okay, but we’re galloping so fast my neck might snap if I try to turn it.
“Hold on!” the woman calls back to me, a vibrato thrill in her voice.
I groan. What does she think I’m trying to do? It can only mean there’s worse to come. My stomach plummets to new depths. She leans farther forward, effortlessly increasing the horse’s pace, her body in perfect partnership with the rhythm of the beast. No matter what combination of muscles I use, I can’t seem to move in rhythm with either one of them; I’m hopelessly out of sync, the third wheel in a private conversation. My body is stiff as glue, making the horse’s job harder, and my ride more erratic and dangerous by the second. I resign myself to the certainty that any minute now I’m going to fall and break my neck, and be trampled beyond recognition by the horse following hard on our heels.
“Lock your shoulders back,” the woman shouts. “Next stretch is downhill.”
I scrunch my eyes shut again and concentrate on latching my arms like a vice around her waist. The only way I’ll survive this is if my fingers don’t come undone until we're at a standstill.
I moan to myself as the horse picks up speed. It jumps over some obstacle, and I topple forward, inadvertently burying my face in the rider’s ponytail. It smells of campfire and dust, and all at once it occurs to me that she isn’t pale like other Undergrounders. I shelve the random thought for another time when survival’s not at stake.
Eventually the ground beneath us begins to level out and our horse settles into long, even strides. I tentatively raise my head and peer into the distance. We’re rapidly approaching the outskirts of the city. My pulse quickens. It’s anybody’s guess what kind of reception we’ll get. I wish I knew what Izzy told them about us. Whoever these riders are, there’s no time to waste in persuading them to help us. If Jakob and I don’t make it back to Trout and the others in the next couple of hours, they’ll leave without us.
We pull up in a cloud of dust and canter toward the center of the city. The buildings here are ramshackle and desolate, no sign of sentries anywhere. The horses slow to a sedate trot, nose to tail, as they navigate what’s left of a wide street strewn with scrap metal, tires, and the remains of bonfires. There’s a noxious musky odor in the air. I can’t help wondering if this is where they burn their dead. A tabby cat darts across our path, a mouse dangling from its jaws. I crane my neck to watch where it disappears to. I haven’t seen a cat, other than a dead cougar, since the meltdown. All at once I detect a flicker of movement inside a gutted doorway, a shadow passing behind a shuttered window, letting me know our arrival has not gone undetected.
We turn down another street, even more gutted than the previous one. The few patches of asphalt dotted here and there among the rubble have a corrugated war zone look to them. A graveyard of sorts. I try not to picture Ma’s last moments when the fireball came through. Halfway down the street, we slow to a walking gait and stop outside a large pockmarked building. The taller woman riding with Jakob whistles once and a swarthy, mustached man appears in the doorway with some kind of crossbow. He motions with his chin in a questioning gesture.
“Could be a militia patrol,” she says. “We’re taking them inside to Jerome for processing.”
The man jerks his crossbow up as if in assent and disappears back inside the building. I scan the rest of the building, but I can’t spot any other sentries marking us. Doesn’t seem like much security, but maybe they’re keeping a low profile.
The rider makes a clicking sound between her teeth and steers our horse back into the street.
I take a long, slow breath. Crossbow man wasn’t exactly welcoming. But at least they’re not going to kill us without interrogating us. And if that’s the case, now’s as good a time as any for some introductions. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you, yet,” I say, leaning forward. “You saved our lives back there. I’m Derry Connolly.”
“Name’s Jody.” She gestures behind us. “That’s Ida back there with your buddy.”
“Who’s the friendly guy with the crossbow?” I ask.
“He’s one of Jerome’s men.”
I digest this for a moment. Obviously the Undergrounders have some kind of force in place to defend themselves. If we can find a way to convince them to join us, we’ll have more luck recruiting the Rogues too. “I take it Jerome’s in charge around here?”
“He’s the one who decides if you stay or go.”
“We aren’t planning on staying,” I say, hastily. “We’re just passing through, although we could use a few supplies.”
“Like I said,
Jerome
decides if you stay or go.”
A shiver crosses my shoulders. Jody’s tone has taken an unexpected cold turn. It’s hard to tell right now if we’re being rescued or taken hostage. I can only hope Izzy’s been reunited with her brother, not being held somewhere, alone and terrified. I push the thought away, and focus instead on observing as much of the layout of the town around me as I possibly can. It may prove essential to our survival if we have to make a quick exit.
“Are you okay?” I call back to Jakob.
He gives an unconvincing nod. Alongside Ida’s tanned face, he looks like a ghost. It’s part bunker-sheen, but he’s got to be as shaken up as I am after our harrowing ride.
I risk releasing one of my hands to wipe the sweat from my brow. Now that Jody’s horse is sashaying along and there’s no imminent threat of death, I can breathe a little easier. I straighten up and stare curiously at the subtle signs of life springing up around us. If my instincts are right, we’re heading to the south end of the city.
Patchworked among the wreckage, I make out a vegetable garden in the bed of a rusted up truck, a wooden cart stacked high with chairs, a child’s bike leaning against a wall. Evidently the riders frequent this section of town, although no one appears in a doorway to watch our progress or stare at the new arrivals. Maybe they don’t actually live here.
We pick our way down several more streets arched over with remnants of mangled traffic lights. Seems odd to think of a world where people were trained to stop and go. All we live by now are our instincts. Jody navigates around a chunk of concrete the size of a car and turns left at a large intersection. I can’t help but notice that some of the buildings here are in reasonably good shape. A sliver of hope shoots through me. Ever since Rummy told me about his escape from the reeducation center, I’ve clung to the hope that the city wasn’t destroyed entirely. I’m eager to know more, but I’m loathe to ask anything that might encourage Jody to suspect that we’re scoping out the city. The only thing she hasn’t got snarky talking about yet is her horse. I decide to play it safe and give that topic another shot.
“Where’d you learn to ride like that?” I ask.
“Me and Ida have been racing barrels since we were six. Our families ran cattle on neighboring ranches.”
“That’s wild,” I say, thankful for the warming trend returning to her tone. “Speaking of racing, how come we’re not in more of a rush to find cover? We’re easy pickings for a sweep out here.”
Jody lets out a snort that equals her horse. “Not gonna happen.”
I furrow my brow. “Why not?”
“Because of the superconductor.”