The Terrorist (Lens Book 3)

by J B Cantwell

  I tried to stand, then fell to my knees on the floor.

  Okay. Crawling would have to do.

  But before I could start moving again, the door to the little room opened, and standing in the doorway was the largest woman I had ever seen.

  I sat with my back leaning into the bed, unable to move any further.

  She took two steps inside and shut the door behind her.

  “You should be in bed,” she said, her voice deep.

  She walked up to me and put her hands beneath my arms, lifting me easily back onto the bed as if I were a small child. I lay there, limp, barely able to move at all. She sat in a small wooden chair I was certain she would break at any moment with her massive body.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

  “Oh, you know what happened,” she said.

  Of course I did. The Service. Mandatory phasings. Made into a super soldier against her will.

  “Where’s Alex?”

  “Not here.” A cryptic answer. “I need you to answer some questions for me. Do you think you can do that?”

  I wanted to shake my head, but I could barely move it.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “Tell me, where are your people now?”

  “No.”

  She smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile.

  “You would be best off if you answer my questions. You’ve seen a lot of pain. I don’t want that to continue. But if you don’t cooperate …”

  I rolled over to one side, facing her, my hands over my nose protectively.

  “I don’t even know where they’ve gone,” I said, my voice muffled. “Word got to them to move last night. They could be anywhere.”

  “You mean to tell me that twenty Volunteers just vanished into the night?”

  It wasn’t twenty, of course, but just twelve of us left. It seemed to me, though, that that was information I shouldn’t disclose.

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “And how do you know this?”

  I shook my head successfully this time and struggled to sit up against one arm. I failed yet again, and this time I stopped trying.

  I didn’t trust Kiyah. I didn’t trust anyone but Alex. And yet I was unwilling to give her up. She could appear here at any time, and then what would become of her?

  “It would be wise of you to tell me.”

  I thought about it, about Alex. Where was he? Was he trapped in another room like this one, sleeping off the same heavy sedative I was under? I felt like I was underwater, ears plugged, slow moving, voice muffled.

  “Jonathan,” I lied.

  “Oh, come on now. You don’t need to lie. You’re a smart girl, and lying to someone like me is never a good idea.”

  Her eyes glinted with a sort of malice I’d only ever seen in men intent on torture. I knew what was coming next, and I wanted nothing to do with it. All I wanted was Alex safe beside me. That was my only requirement. I would join the Champions; I didn’t care.

  Just let me see him again.

  “I’ll tell you, but you need to un-chip Alex first and let us go.”

  “No dice,” she said. “I don’t know how to tell you this, sweetie, but he’s already gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “You heard me. Good and dead. The Service got to him before we could. Took out both of those Primes, and then him for good measure. Now, that just leaves me with you. You’re on your own.”

  I lay there, defenseless, lost.

  Was it true?

  “It always seems that the shots that kill a Prime are louder than the bullets used against mere mortals. Doesn’t it?”

  I rolled over, away from her shaved head and taunting words, silent tears running down my face.

  What was it she wanted again? The informant? The Volunteers? The weapon? There were too many options, and thinking about it all made my head spin.

  But my reprieve from her was brief. She rolled me back over again, kneeling on the floor now, her face inches from mine. She smelled like stale nutrition squares, her breath rank and rancid.

  “Trust me, little one, now’s the time. I want that name, and I want that nuke.”

  “But Alex is dead,” I said, frowning, unsure of the words.

  Dead?

  Somehow the words “dead” and “Alex” didn’t seem possible in the same sentence.

  “Yes,” she said. “And so will you be if you don’t start answering me.” Her tone was maddeningly patient.

  Suddenly, I refused to play. She was lying. She had to be.

  If my mouth hadn’t been so dry, I would have spit in her face.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Tears. Tears are good. Keep them going. Give up everything but the important stuff.

  “What was the question?”

  I acted confused, in and out of consciousness. I let my eyes flutter as if I were on the verge of passing out again.

  Her facade was cracking. I was very aware of my broken nose in that moment. One little slip of her fist and I would be in a world of pain again. I was lucky when she put two hands on my shoulders and shook me like a rag doll. I tried to resist at first, but then I just let her do it, let my head roll around, just waiting for her to stop, knowing that she would eventually.

  “Tell me,” she growled, her voice low and deadly, her massive arms holding me now, cradling me. “Where is the nuke?”

  I laughed then, probably the stupidest thing I could do, but how could I not? She was so out of her mind for believing that he could’ve stolen a nuke. He must’ve lied very well.

  “There is no nuke,” I said, wrenching my shoulders from her grip and falling back into the pillow. “He lied. And you bought it.”

  I rolled onto my side and stared into her pale blue eyes as the realization overcame her. For whatever reason, she believed me. Maybe she had always doubted.

  “What would you even do with a nuke anyway?” I asked. I reached down and pulled the covers up to my neck like I was tucking in for a long sleep.

  She leaned back, then stood up, staring at me, my face, deciding. I wasn’t surprised when she lifted her arm and hit me, hard, across the cheek. Not for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, I tasted blood. It hurt.

  But I smiled anyway.

  Chapter Two

  “Well, I don’t know what you said to the boss, but she’s madder than I’ve ever seen her. What went on in here? I was hoping to find you all crying and broken.”

  Hannah. The splinter in my finger. The irritation that just wouldn’t go away.

  “What do you care?” I said dreamily from beneath the blanket. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been asleep, but I felt a bit better than I had before.

  “Oh, don’t make me come and finish you off,” she said. “There’s no reason for you to be all snide.”

  “Says the master.”

  Hannah smiled, and there was even a hint of genuine joy on her face. It was the look of someone reunited with an old friend.

  And it was true. There was a tiny piece of me that was even happy to see her.

  But there was a bigger piece that looked forward to putting a bullet in her brain.

  “I came to get you up.”

  “For what?”

  “A little show.”

  There was something about her tone that rang an odd alarm in me. She knew something, something important. Something that was going to hurt me.

  Alex?

  Still not dead.

  “Get up, little Pink,” she called.

  She offered me her hands, and I took them and let her help me up, relieved that the room was spinning noticeably less than it had the last time I’d tried to sit up.

  I looked around me, for what, I wasn’t sure. My clothes were splattered with blood, my own, I thought. Shoes? Just wet socks.

  “You don’t need anything but yourself, princess. Just get on up now …”

  I did as she said, somehow mollified by her tone.
There was something different about Hannah. A shared history. There was no way that female Prime could’ve gotten a word out of me. But Hannah …

  “What is her name, anyway?”

  “Who?”

  “The Prime. The woman who was in here before.”

  “Oh, the boss? That’s Angela.”

  I snorted with laughter.

  “I know, right?” Hannah said, joining in. “Not exactly very angelic.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said. “I think I might’ve seen the reflection of a halo against her bald scalp.”

  It was hard for Hannah to come up for air after that last one. I smiled, but I tried not to because it hurt my face.

  “Yeah, well, that’s why we just call her the boss.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked, trying to get a hold of myself. “Mess?”

  Hannah’s face dropped a bit, and she wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” she said seriously. “They’ll kill you, you know.”

  “Yeah, I get it. You’d do it yourself just for fun, I bet.”

  “No.” Her voice was suddenly dead serious. “I wouldn’t.”

  Something about the way she said it made me believe her. Maybe it was the tone of her voice, or the look on her face. Or maybe it was that slight little nod she’d given me months ago on the day we escaped Manhattan together. I had made the bus driver pull over to pick her up as the water got deeper and deeper around us.

  “I guess you owe me one,” I said.

  She ignored that comment and just said, “Come on,” and pulled me along.

  “Wait,” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper. “What about Alex?”

  She stopped and dropped my arm.

  “I don’t know,” she answered quietly. “They’re saying he’s dead, but I don’t know for sure. He hasn’t been around, but I haven’t seen the other Primes, either. The boss did a number on him, though. If he’s not dead, he ran.”

  No. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me behind with these people.

  I didn’t answer, and she took my arm and led me through the door.

  On the other side was a living room not unlike the one I’d shared with my mother in Brooklyn. It was small with just one couch and an extra chair taken from the kitchen table. Four men were seated watching a soccer game on the viewscreen. Two more stood at either side of the room, assault rifles slung over their shoulders. No Primes in the room, I noticed.

  No Alex, either.

  Oh, right. “Alex is dead,” and all that.

  “Time to go. It’s your turn.” She picked up my arm again, and I followed her out the front door.

  My turn for what?

  I imagined that torture was on its way, and I steeled myself against the pain that would surely follow.

  My eyes scanned the floor, and I realized we were just in an old apartment building. The stairs were on the far side of the hallway. A man, this one a Prime, guarded the exit.

  I had to find a way out. A slip through a door, or maybe a window that led to a fire escape. We were high up, though. From what I could see through the window, it felt like we were maybe ten floors above the street.

  An exit like that would be risky at best. If I could escape at all.

  We were at the next door a moment later, and Hannah knocked on it, not willing to open it, herself. But, after waiting for someone else to invite us inside, she looked at me, almost as if looking for confirmation, and opened it.

  I wondered what was on the other side. Pain? Lies? Death?

  I had my answer a few moments later as she led me through.

  No, the pain wouldn’t be my own. Because sitting in a chair with her head face down on a table, I recognized a girl, and my heart sank.

  Kiyah.

  Her arms were covered in bruises, and her chip had been ripped out, leaving a long, thick trail of blood running down her face. She looked up briefly after I entered the room, recognition, and then pain, registering on her face.

  “Riley.”

  “Kiyah!” I said, running to her side. Her feet were tied together and attached to the chair she was sitting in.

  “Hannah, help me,” I demanded, but she hung back. “How long has she been here?”

  Hannah seemed unsure. “Same as you, I think.”

  Which was long enough to do this damage to her poor body.

  I reached the chair and knelt down before it, trying desperately to untie the knots with my shaking hands. After a few long minutes spent, I sat back

  “I need a knife. Come on, get me something.”

  I turned, but Hannah was gone. We were alone in the room together.

  “What happened to you?” I asked. “Where are the others?”

  She looked up, but just shook her head. I could tell by the way she was holding her lips that she had lost a few teeth.

  I stood up and ran into the kitchen, searching the drawers for a knife. There were several butter knives and one steak knife, a relic from when things like steak existed for the masses. I grabbed it and knelt again by her side.

  “Oh, my God,” I said as I started to cut one of the ropes.

  My life for a pair of scissors.

  “How did they catch you?”

  She was so fast, I couldn’t imagine how. But then I saw it; her left leg was more than just bruised. Through the thigh were the entry and exit wounds of a bullet. Fresh blood dripped onto the carpet.

  She wouldn’t be running anywhere today.

  “You’re shot,” I said, pushing harder on the knife as I slid it back and forth over the rope.

  But my efforts were futile. Even if I could get her loose, where would I take her? How? She wasn’t heavy, but I was small, myself. What we needed was a Prime, and I found myself wishing for Alex. He could’ve picked up the whole chair and gotten us out of there. There were hospitals, of course, but we would need to tend to her ourselves. And without a chip and designation, I would be arrested immediately.

  I went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of dish towels. I wondered who had lived here before the Champions had taken over. What had happened to them?

  I went back to Kiyah and pressed the towels into the wound. But it was no use. They were quickly saturated with blood.

  She lay her head down on its side, watching me work.

  “Don’t bother,” she whispered, and a small bubble of blood hung onto her bottom lip. “I’ll be gone soon enough.”

  I sat back, defeated. “Where are they?” I asked, hoping she had gotten to the other Volunteers before the Champions had gotten to her.

  “I can’t tell you,” she said, tears running down her face now. “But if you think hard, you’ll be able to figure it out. It’s somewhere you and I have been before.”

  “What?”

  That could be anywhere.

  “You need to tell me more. I—”

  “He’s not dead, Riley.” She coughed, and a spray of blood flew across the table and onto my face. “I promised him I’d get you out. He’s with—”

  The door banged open behind me, and Angela burst into the room.

  “Ah, I see!” she said. “You two have finally been brought together. Riley, this is Kiyah. Kiyah, Riley. But you both know that already, don’t you?”

  She strolled up to Kiyah and grabbed her by the hair, looking into her eyes.

  “We thought that you might be able to convince her to talk. But it won’t work with just a whisper.” She bent over and put her mouth to Kiyah’s ear, then yelled, “I’ll need you to speak up!”

  “Stop!” I shouted. “You don’t need to do that!”

  “Oh, no?” Angela said, rounding on me. “We’ve had her here for days now, and still no information.” She let Kiyah’s head drop to the table again, making her wince with the pain of the impact of her cheek on the cold metal.

  Days? How long had I been knocked out?

  “She was just about to tell me.” I wasn’t sure
if this statement was true; her words had been so cryptic. But I did feel sure that I would’ve been able to solve the riddle. She knew we were being watched, taped, listened to.

  “Then, by all means, Kiyah,” she said, leaning against the table. “Let’s hear it.”

  Kiyah was silent.

  “Oh, come on now, girl.” She picked up her head again and smashed it up and down on the table a few times. Angela got close to her face again, covered with tears. “Now’s the time if you want to live. If you want to save that leg of yours.”

  Kiyah spit a mouthful of blood into her face. Angela’s face wrinkled. Then she slammed her head down, harder than before, making Kiyah cry out with pain.

  Angela grabbed for one of the dish towels that I’d used to cover her wound and used it to wipe the spit off her face. Of course, a towel drenched in blood did nothing to help her, and as she withdrew it, it looked like someone had taken a can of red spray paint and stained her skin.

  Kiyah sobbed as I looked on.

  I did nothing. I sat there, dumbstruck, watching the scene of torture play out before me as if it were a show on a lens.

  She was nearly gone now. I knew her life was about to end. Without a team full of medics to save her, there was no hope.

  “Come here, girl,” Angela said to me.

  I did as she commanded, and I watched as she pulled a large handgun, complete with silencer, from her belt. She held it out to me.

  “Take it,” she said.

  I frowned.

  “Go on. It’s time. She’s not going to tell me anything more. And it will just have to be enough. We’ll go for Jonathan next. He knows. And he also knows where his loyalties lie.”

  I didn’t take the gun. I knew what she wanted me to do with it, and I wouldn’t.

  She came around behind me and stuck the gun into my back. A shot here would be paralyzing, if not fatal. Then, she wrapped her arms around me from behind and took my hands, forcing me to hold the gun out in front of me, pointing it at Kiyah’s head.

  “Do it,” Angela whispered into my ear. “Only you have the power to take away her pain. Do it now.”

  I held the gun with shaking hands. Kiyah looked up at me, then closed her eyes.