I stride across the polished wooden floor and kneel before the row of drawers. Giving a good tug, I find them locked. My father would have the key on him, and he is currently in the Council Circle working, not that he would just hand me the key to his files anyway.
Sitting back on my heels, I inspect the fine wood of the desk drawer. He told me once that the desk came from Spain in the nineteen century, hand carved and crafted with notches and groves instead of nails. It’s a stunning piece of historical art.
There really isn't much point to being discrete. It's not like I'm coming back. I head to the kitchen and return with a meat tenderizer. After eight solid whacks, the wood splinters and I'm able to yank the drawer free from its track. Shuffling through papers, pens, envelopes, a leather-bound notebook, and various other miscellaneous supplies, my fingers brush cool metal.
I jerk my hand back. I've never touched a real gun before, and honestly, I have no idea how it works other than to point and press the little trigger-thing. With caution, I lift it from the bottom of the smashed drawer and hold it in both hands.
It looks nothing like the large black guns the Gendarme carry because it is much smaller and silver with a round barrel where I can see bullets already loaded. If I take this, if I go through with my plan, there's no going back. If even one Gendarme sees me, I'll be dead before I can blink. It won’t matter that my father is the Protector. I suppose though, my entire plan will lead to my death one way or another, though I want it by my own hands, not the Gendarme's or anyone else's. Certainly not the Gamble’s.
I can't conceal the weapon in my black dress, so I quickly change into jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of comfortable shoes since I'm going to be doing a lot of walking. Shoving the gun into the waistband of my pants, I flip my shirt over it and triple check that it's not obvious. Thinking ahead, I also grab a spare flashlight, sticking it against my other hip, gobble down a few leftover biscuits on the counter to maintain my strength, and then I march to the front door of the suite.
Hesitating, I turn around to look at my home one last time. I consider leaving a note for my father and Elsa, but I don't know what to say and there really isn't anything I can say that will make this any easier for either of them.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the empty space and with a deep sigh, I yank open the door, turn right and head for my next destination.
CHAPTER SIX
I ring the bell of A sector suite 117. The butler opens the door and looks surprised to see me. “Miss Keslin, your father isn’t here.”
“I know. I actually wanted to see if Mr. Wyatt Walker is available.” I silently pray he’s home, probably the only time I’ve ever wanted to see Wyatt because if he’s still in the Council Circle, this will become infinitely more difficult.
“I’m sorry, Miss Keslin, but it is outside of ROC’s social regulations for you to speak with Mr. Walker.”
“But I’m sure you’ve heard by now that we are engaged to be married.” A bold statement because it’s possible this man knows about Rey and me, but I have to take the chance.
He pauses for a long moment, adding to my anxiety, and then finally nods. “Of course, Miss Keslin. Forgive my ignorance. Mr. Walker returned from the Circle just thirty minutes ago. If you’ll step inside for a moment, I’ll see if he is able to speak with you.”
I start to enter the suite when the man stops me. “Your barcode, please, Miss Keslin. I’m sure you understand that the Walkers like to keep track of who enters and leaves their home.”
I immediately panic, but then remember that I’m not coming back so it doesn’t matter if there is a record of me entering the Walker’s suite. I scan my arm before I’m allowed into their entry hall.
While my father chose to decorate our suite in a classical, elegant style of dark woods and rich jewel-tones, the Walker’s home is the complete opposite; a contemporary nightmare of sharp lines, pointed furniture and various shades of grey mixed with arbitrary splashes of red and yellow. It looks like a robot got in a battle with a vat of condiments and lost.
“Well, look who came crawling back,” a voice says, and I turn to find Wyatt sauntering toward me, a stupid smirk spread across his stupid face. “I’ll have to remind the help that Subs aren’t welcome here and to be careful who they let in.”
I resist the urge to just shoot him now and manage a cheery smile instead. “Hi, Wyatt. I’m sorry to just drop in, I know you’re busy, but I thought that maybe you’d like to take a walk with me?”
“A walk? Why in the hell would I go for a walk with you?”
“Well, with Rey…gone, I assume our fathers will return to our previous marriage arrangement.”
He grounds his jaw, eyes flashing with disdain. “Yeah, my Dad said something about it earlier. I’m sure you know I’d rather marry just about anyone else in Sector A, I’d even marry someone in Sector B if it isn’t you, but if this is my best shot at becoming Protector someday, I’ll suck it up. For the greater good of course.”
“Right, so that’s kind of why I’m here and wanted to go for a walk. I know you don’t like me very much, but if we’re going to be married, I wanted to at least make some effort. Maybe we have some things in common or something.”
“Is this a joke?”
I shake my head and swallow my pride. “No, no joke. I’m serious. I’m just trying to make this easier for both of us. My father said we’re going to need to put aside our differences and find a way to make this work. It won’t look good in front of the citizens if we can’t at least be friendly and after all, like you said, this is for the greater good of ROC.”
“I’m busy. Some of us have actual work to do around here.”
“I’m just asking for ten minutes. Promise.”
His lips curl back and for a moment I’m afraid he’ll refuse and I’ll be left at square one.
“Fine. Whatever. But I don’t have high hopes that someone like you, someone who almost married a Sub, will ever manage to make me happy.”
Once again, I remind myself that I can’t hit him or shoot him or let him think this is anything other than an extended olive branch until we’re past the last camera. The Gendarme may not bother to pay much attention to the cameras in the subs, but they will definitely be paying attention to those in Sector A, especially near the Councilmembers’ suites.
As we leave the suite, I nonchalantly head in the direction where I know we’ll find the tunnel leading to the single exterior door of ROC. Wyatt falls into step beside me, but we keep enough room between each other so there is no possibility of accidently touching. The thought of even brushing shoulders with Wyatt makes my skin crawl.
Neither of us speaks as we walk. Occasionally we pass a Sector A resident. They nod a hello to me, but because Wyatt is a Councilmember, they aren’t allowed to address him unless he acknowledges them first, which he doesn’t.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” he eventually asks, not even bothering to look my direction. If we weren’t walking side by side, I’d be confused as to who he had spoken to.
“I don’t know. What kinds of things do you like? Do you like to read?”
“Read? Do you not understand how busy I am? The only things I read are the radiation reports reminding us above ground is still uninhabitable, or the criminal charge reports of whichever Sub was idiotic enough to try to steal food or speak to a higher Sector citizen. I swear, some of them are just begging to have their numbers thrown in extra times.”
“They’re just trying to survive,” I point out.
He leers at me in repugnance. “Don’t defend them. They bring this on themselves. If they didn’t behave like animals, stealing and cheating and acting like they deserve special treatment or some kind of voice in our Council because they were born, maybe life would be easier for them. They could make better choices, but instead, they’d rather have a bunch of kids that ROC can’t support and force us to have the Gamble every year to fix their mistakes.”
“They
have no birth control!” I snap, my blood running hot. “And the rations provided to Sector C and below aren’t even enough for one person to live, let alone an entire family!”
He halts in the middle of the hall. “If you’re trying to get on my good side, this is the wrong way to do so.”
I bite my tongue. I just need him to walk with me for a few more minutes. I can see the tiny red light of the last camera in the distance. Shoving aside my emotions, and the need to defend Rey and everyone that lives in the subs with him, I give Wyatt a consenting nod.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever. Can we go back now? I’ve got work to do.”
“Just a little farther. Let’s go to the end of the hall and then you are free to go wherever you want,” I say a little too cheerfully.
Wyatt rolls his eyes but stalks ahead and I try to conceal my relief. In less than 300 yards, everything will fall into place. I gently touch the gun hidden beneath my shirt and feel a surge of nervous excitement.
As we continue forward, the door to the exit tunnel grows larger and larger. A sign is bolted to it:
FOR YOUR SAFETY AND BY ORDER OF THE REPUBLIC OF THE CONTINUATION BY-LAWS § B-12.3.9 SET FORTH ON NOVEMBER 13, 2038 THIS DOOR IS TO REMAIN SEALED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BY THE GENDARME MASTER GENERAL OR THE PROTECTOR OF THE REPUBLIC OF THE CONTINUATION. TAMPERING WITH THIS DOOR OR ITS ELECTRONIC LOCK IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.
Glancing up, I see we are six feet beyond the view of the last camera. I have no idea why there isn’t a camera on the only external door in ROC, but I don’t have time to worry about it. My hands shake so hard, I’m worried I won’t be able to hold the gun steady as I carefully slide it from the waistband of my jeans.
Wyatt, his back still to me, steps forward and slaps the door with an open palm. “Happy? We’re at the end of the hall so I’m going home now. See you later, Sub.”
He turns to face me as I lift the gun and cock the trigger. “Just a second, Wyatt. There’s one more thing I want.”
His eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger, becoming two dark slits in his square, angular face as he takes a threatening stop forward. “Are you insane?”
“Don’t move any closer or I swear I will shoot you.”
Clenching his jaw and glaring like a feral beast, Wyatt stops his advance and raises his hands in defense. “You realize you’ll be punished for this? Kidnapping a Councilmember, holding him at gunpoint, having a gun. You’ll be in prison for decades.”
“I have no intention of sticking around to be caught. Open that door.”
His glance darts to the door behind him and then back to me and his fear is evident. “You can’t be serious! That door leads to the exit tunnel which leads to the surface which, in case you aren’t aware, has such high levels of radiation, nothing can survive.”
“I am quite aware of where that door leads, Wyatt. I still want you to open it.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’m leaving.”
His mouth falls open as he emits a disbelieving laugh. “You really are nuts. You’re a suicidal manic. I hope you realize this means I’ll never marry you. I’ll never marry a psychopath!”
My own incredulous laughter rolls through me. “Wyatt, you can’t really be that dumb, can you? Surely you have to realize by now that I’ve chosen to die rather than spend one second as your wife. Now open the damn door.”
“If I refuse?”
“Here’s the deal,” I say, keeping my voice as even as possible, hiding away the fear that threatens to take hold. I can’t let him think I’m scared. “This can go one of two ways. One; you open the door, I go through and you go crying back to your father. Or two; I shoot you in the head and drag your dead body over to that scanner anyway, open the door and leave your corpse in this hall for someone else to find. Both options involve me getting what I want, so which version would you prefer?”
Weighing his limited possibilities, Wyatt’s face twists into a sneer. “Fine.”
Shifting sideways so we don’t break eye contact, Wyatt shoves up his right sleeve and slips his wrist under the scanner. I hear a beep and then a click as the internal lock on the door slides open.
“Open the door,” I say with a flick of the gun. Wyatt regards me with intense hatred, I can feel the heat of his fury even from five feet away. Reaching backward, he grasps the handle and wrenches it down. It squeals against itself, having not been touched in a century. With a strong push, Wyatt forces the door to swing in on itself revealing a long dark tunnel. Not a single light can be seen anywhere in the vast blackness.
Scooting toward the opening, the gun still trained on Wyatt, we circle around each other until I stand in front of the tunnel entrance and he’s only three feet away, eyes flashing in rage. I’m about to slip through the doorway and vanish into the darkness when he stops me.
“Hey Kelsey, one last thing.”
“What?”
He lunges forward, back handing me across the face and knocking me to my knees before I can react. The gun flies from my hand, clanging along the floor until it bangs into the far wall. Blood trickles from my busted lip, my cheek stings and I can feel my eye already swelling but I must get that gun.
Scrambling on my hands and knees, I lurch toward the weapon. Wyatt’s foot lifts up and connects with my left side, expelling the air from my lungs with such force I cry out as a burning sensation courses through my ribs. All I can do is slump over, clutching my side while struggling to take a full breath again.
Stepping over me with an ominous chuckle, Wyatt bends down and scoops the gun into his hand. Flipping a tiny switch on the side I hadn’t noticed, he trains the end of the barrel on me, his expression sinister.
“You forgot to turn off the safety.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
This moring I woke up with Rey. By breakfast I had walked him to his death and by lunchtime I had decided I would walk to my own. I suppose I will die, but it will be by Wyatt’s hands, not my own.
Rolling into a sitting position and resting my back against the concrete wall, I hold my bruised ribs while my heart plunges because I’ve failed. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to die looking at the sun or the stars or the clouds or whatever is up there that isn’t the colorless metal girders and rivets and steel plates of the ceilings of ROC.
“Get up,” Wyatt commands. Still clutching my side in pain, and with support from the wall, I stagger to my feet.
“Just shoot me, Wyatt,” I say with exhaustion because I’m done and want it to be over.
He smiles, icy and ominous, all teeth and no emotion. “I should shoot you, especially after what you’ve done, but it’s going to be a lot more entertaining when I deliver the Protector’s own daughter to the Master General of the Gendarme.”
I consider the idea of bolting for the open door to the tunnel and slamming it shut behind me. Surely his bullets can’t pierce the twelve-inch thick metal. But I don’t think I can move quickly enough. For a moment, I find myself wishing Rey was here because he always had a plan for everything. But Rey is dead and he can’t help me anymore.
Racking my brain for any way out, I can think of nothing. But I do know I have no intention of being killed or captured by Wyatt freaking Walker.
As he shifts slightly away from me to drag the door shut, I see a brief window of opportunity. Ignoring the dull ache of my ribs, I leap forward, throwing all my weight against Wyatt and pinning him face-first against the opposite wall, my right forearm across the back of his neck.
He’s strong, way stronger than me, and fast too as he thrashes his left arm around, trying to aim the gun at my stomach. But I’m too close to his body, closer than I ever wanted to be to Wyatt, and manage to bend his arm at an unnatural angle so he can’t line up the weapon.
A shot fires, then a second. The bullets ping off the wall to my left and ricochet down the hall. That noise will absolutely attract attention.
“I swear you will regret this, Kelsey,”
Wyatt spits, twisting his face against the wall so it’s mere inches from my own, his breath against my face. “You’ll be locked up for the rest of your life!”
“Not until I see the sky,” I snarl, and then drive my knee upward and into his kidneys. He collapses over, gasping and falling to the floor where he writhes. The gun scurries away and I jump for it. My hands wrap around the metal handle and I surge to my feet, training the weapon on Wyatt as he lies in a ball on the floor.
The adrenaline in my blood pumps harder, causing my heart to race. I’m aware of nothing else in the world except Wyatt sitting at the end of my gun, staring at me with a mixture of rage and insolence and a little bit of fear. I cock the trigger and I’m ready to pull it and drive a bullet into his skull. It’ll save a lot of people a world of trouble.
The Gamble (The Gamble Series Book 1) Page 6
