My feet and legs throb and it feels like we walk for hours, but considering how exhausted I am, that’s probably an exaggeration. Eventually, we arrive at a large stone wall. Metal wire arches around the top in twists and tangles. As whatever light source is behind the wall reflects off it, I see the wire is barbed with metal spikes. Anyone who dares to enter or exit over the top of the wall will be sliced into bloody ribbons.
Turning left and following the wall, Daniel guides us to a discolored metal gate behind which pace several armed guards. At least, I assume they’re guards because of the giant guns they hold, though none wear a uniform or even armor to protect them from bullets.
With curiosity, a woman steps forward, her gun gripped in both hands but pointed to the ground. “Daniel, who is this?”
“Name’s Kelsey Zuritsky. We found her about three miles west sleeping in the woods. She’s from ROC.”
All the guards stand a little straighter, eyes rounder, surprised at this knowledge. Then the woman unlocks the gate and allows us to enter. “Are you taking her to Charlie?”
“I assume Charlie is sleeping. This can wait ‘til morning. We’ll take her to cabin 13 and get her settled there.”
The woman nods in agreement and with the wolf padding behind, Jax and Daniel lead me away, deeper into the mysterious world beyond the wall.
Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as we travel down a tree lined path. A yellow farmhouse sits off to our right and beside it looms a giant metal building that could house all of Sector A if necessary. Farther down we pass a long brown building with a bell tower and an ancient looking barn behind it in the distance. Straight ahead rises a stone mansion topped by a pitched roof and displaying dozens of tiny, cut glass windows glittering from candles inside. Scattered throughout the rest of the compound are tiny houses and cabins in various states of disrepair and architectural choices. Most lie dark, the residents asleep.
A few people are outside, some tending to animals, others keeping watch and a handful toting supplies between the buildings, their paths guided with help from torches and exterior lanterns placed throughout the area. The golden orange glow gives everything an ethereal appearance.
No one seems to pay us much attention as Jax and Daniel escort me to a dilapidated cabin placed in the northwest corner.
I’m impressed the thing still stands because it must be two-hundred years old made of nothing more than wood slats and a tin roof. It can’t be larger than eight feet long by six feet wide and I silently hope I don’t have to share the space with a bunch of other prisoners. Bars secure the windows, and the door, which in all honesty I could probably kick down, has only a rusted padlock keeping it shut. This is nothing like the prisons in ROC. Even with no tools at my disposal, and no knowledge of picking locks, I could still escape from this glorified shoebox in five minutes.
And go where? I’d been set on dying just yesterday, but now that nothing is what it seemed, my curiosity urges me forward. I have to know what’s happened, how there’s still life and people living on the surface, how could no one in ROC know? Did this mean we could be free to return to the world again?
Flinging open the door, Jax takes my upper arm and carts me inside. It’s dark and a cough shakes through my chest from all the dust hovering in the air. My stumbling footsteps are muffled by the fine layer of dirt covering the wooden floor. An old mattress sits atop a spring cot in one corner covered by a single pillow and ratty blanket. There’s a small toilet in the other corner separated by a curtain, though I don’t get the impression the cabin, or anything else around here, features running water.
“Don’t think about trying to escape,” Jax says. “I realize this cabin isn’t much, but most people in the compound carry guns and are well trained in how to use them. You won’t make it ten yards.”
“So, you’re basically the Gendarme of the surface?” I ask with disdain.
“No. We’re the good guys, you just don’t know it yet.”
“Care to explain why you think that?”
“Not tonight. I’m going to bed. You’ll find a spare blanket under the cot and there’ll be breakfast at seven.”
“Terrific,” I reply with sarcasm, but he’s gone. I hear the padlock latch before his footsteps fade away. As I turn to take in the depressing state of the cabin, my heart crumples. I escaped one prison, only to land myself in another. Perhaps I was never meant to be free.
CHAPTER NINE
I don’t even get so much as a courtesy knock the next morning before Jax barges in with a tray of food. Having barely slept, I’m already awake and sitting on the bed counting the dozens of knots in the wooden walls. I turn to glare at his intrusion. I may be imprisoned in a jail cell, but it’s my jail cell.
“Breakfast as promised,” he says dryly, plopping the tray on the floor and then offering a wet rag. “Daniel suggested you clean yourself up too since you’re meeting Charlie.”
I take the rag and stand so I’m face to face with Jax. Or face to collarbone since he’s a whole head taller than me. “Who’s Charlie?”
“Our leader.”
“Wow, guards, leaders, it’s almost like I never left home.”
“We know why Subs leave ROC. Don’t think Charlie won’t see through your lies in a heartbeat.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” I snap, turning away to tend to my busted lip in a cracked mirror on the wall. The gash is worse than I thought, along with half my face purple, one eye partially swollen shut and a trail of dried blood running down my neck. I dab at the crusted blood, the cool cloth soothing my swollen lip.
Jax clears his throat. “What happened to your face anyway?”
“I got in a fight. What happened to yours?”
He stiffens and seems taken aback, as if no one ever picked a battle of wits with him before. Opening his mouth to respond, he shuts it again, his lips turning up in a sneer. Then, flipping around, he stalks from the cabin, slamming the door and it’s all I can do to not laugh out loud.
Less than five minutes later, the door flings open again and in glides a forty-something year old woman. She wears jeans, boots and a t-shirt, but despite the drab attire she maintains an air of poise and elegance, with high cheekbones, silver-laced auburn hair, thin arched eyebrows and hazel eyes flecked with pale green. I can only stare, my hand hovering halfway between my face and my side as I forget about cleaning up.
“Hello, Kelsey, my name is Charlie,” the woman says.
“You’re Charlie? The leader? I… you… I thought you’d be… I didn’t expect a woman.”
“Things are a little different up here,” she says with a friendly smile before calling out the open door. “Daniel? May we have some chairs please?”
Daniel enters with two wooden chairs. Nodding a brief acknowledgment my direction, he sets them down in the center of the room and departs. Charlie sits and I do the same, the rickety old chair teetering slightly beneath my weight.
“So, Kelsey, what brings you to, what do you call this? The U.Z?”
I clench my jaw. I have no intention of telling this woman the story that led to my leaving ROC. It’s none of her business.
“Jax and Daniel seemed to have plenty of their own suspicions,” I say instead. “Why do you think I came up here?”
She lifts one thin eyebrow, her forehead creasing. “Answering questions with questions?”
“You all captured and imprisoned me. I was doing nothing other than taking a nap in the woods so as far as I’m concerned, I don’t owe you anything and I’m not sure why I need to be locked up, let alone held prisoner.”
“Given our history with those from ROC, we have to assume you are a spy.”
I laugh. “A spy? You’re telling me people in ROC know you’re up here?”
“Yes.”
“And they send spies to infiltrate your little encampment?”
“Yes.”
My head hurts and I reach up to massage my temples. “That’s ridiculous. If they knew people were up here,
why would we stay in the O.Z?”
“You tell me.”
“I have no idea! I’d never even know people were alive up here if Daniel and Jax and that stupid wolf had left me alone. There aren’t supposed to be people on the surface, there was supposed to be radiation and the only survivors were supposed to be those of us in ROC. It would appear you all know far more about this situation than I do, so I have no idea what you’re hoping to get from me. Even if I did have some kind of information, I have no reason to trust you.”
She remains silent for several moments, regarding me carefully while thinking through her next words. “What do you know about the bombs?”
“The ones from World War III? They were Hydrogen bombs, dozens of them set off about a century ago that killed all life on the surface.”
“Ok, you are correct on two counts. There were bombs and they were dropped a century ago, but they were atomic, not Hydrogen, and while they did kill tens of millions, they did not kill everyone. In fact, they didn’t even kill anyone outside of the former United States.”
My mouth falls open. “What? How is that possible?”
“Because the United States only dropped the bombs on themselves.”
“That’s insane, why would anyone do that to themselves?”
She shrugs, but the way she does so indicates that she knows the answer to my question and simply chooses not to share. Instead, she stares at me, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, as if waiting for me to expose some deep secret I don’t have.
“I still don’t understand what any of that has to do with me,” I say. “And to be honest, I’m not sure I believe any of that insanity because it doesn’t make sense.”
“To be honest?” Charlie repeats, her face pinched. “Kelsey, I don’t for one second think you’re being honest.”
“Well, I don’t know how to prove otherwise.”
She pauses again, her eyes searching my face with a half-smile across her thin mouth. “Why are you here? Why did you leave ROC?”
I purse my lips. “Why I am up here is none of your business. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else on the surface.”
“Was your number selected in the Gamble?”
This time I freeze all over, as though someone dumped ice water into the hollow of my bones.
She leans back in her chair. “That seems to have struck a chord.”
“You know about the Gamble?”
“We know more than those of you in the so-called Occupied Zone like to think. We aren’t heathens up here. Considering the Gamble, it sounds like we are more civilized than ROC.”
I snort and cross my arms in defiance. “In ROC we don’t imprison innocent people.”
She throws her head back and laughs, her hair swishing over the back of the chair. “Really, Kelsey? Is that what you truly believe?”
I want to say yes, but I know I’ll be lying. As much as I want to defend my home; my father and the laws he upholds; I can’t because we do imprison innocent people. Or at least we have so many laws and so few options, people are forced to break them just to survive. They take their chances with the Gamble, the possibility their number won’t be called, because often the alternative is certain death.
Looking away, unable to meet Charlie’s gaze, I observe the specks of dust floating along the wood floor.
“We are not the bad guys,” she says.
My focus returns to her face. “Neither am I.”
“After everything your people have done, we have no choice but to believe you are until you prove otherwise.”
With a flip of her head, hair waving behind her, she leaves, nodding to someone outside the door. I watch her retreating form, until suddenly Jax stands in the way, gun hanging from his shoulder. Backlit from the sunlight outside, he looks like a dark, terrifying shadow. That animal peeks around the door beside him, its eyes fixating on me.
I step back in panic, but Jax motions to the wolf. “Sit, Tisis. And stay.” Then he enters the cabin and yanks the rickety door shut, leaving the wolf outside.
Swallowing my fear, I cast Jax a harsh glower. “What do you want now?”
“I’m supposed to make sure you eat. Charlie has this thing with our prisoners staying alive and healthy though personally I think it’s a giant waste of resources since you aren’t actually contributing anything.”
I glance at the forgotten tray of food; bread, water and what I guess are supposed to be scrambled eggs that have now gone cold.
Turning back, I motion to his gun. “You gonna shoot me if I refuse?”
Grinding his teeth, he thinks for a moment before removing the weapon and setting it next to the door. Then he leans against the wall, jams his hands in his front pockets, and watches me with a lazy boredom, as if he has a million better things to do with his morning.
I fold my arms over my chest and glare. “I’m not hungry anyway.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m starting to wonder if you weren’t kicked out of ROC because you’re so freaking annoying. Just eat the food.”
I don’t move.
“Would it help if I asked nicely?” he asks, his voice dripping with false kindness. “Please eat?”
My stomach emits an angry grumble, betraying the fact I’ve hardly eaten in two days. Unable to deny myself the meal, and knowing I need the nourishment, I grab the tray and carry it to the bed where I sit and shovel food into my mouth. Cold eggs slither down my throat and the bread is stale, but I’m so hungry it doesn’t even matter and less than five minutes later an empty tray balances on my lap with nothing but crumbs remaining.
“So how many other prisoners are there? Are they from the O.Z. too?” I ask.
Jax offers no response as he picks at his fingernails with a pocketknife.
“Ok… how many other compounds are there? Other people like you? Or is this the only one?”
Still silence, though he folds and shoves the knife back into his jeans and almost looks amused at my attempts.
Anger slinks through me. “What harm is it to answer my questions? Or do you just like to be difficult?”
“I’m not generally into feeding information to the enemy.”
“Fine. I’ll make a trade. I’ll answer one of your questions in exchange for you answering one of mine, sound fair?”
He gives a non-committal shrug. “Why did you leave ROC?”
“Why does anyone care?”
With a raised eyebrow, he smirks. I groan.
“Ok. I left because… because my father was going to force me to marry someone, this guy, Wyatt Walker, who I don’t want to marry.”
“And death by radiation seemed a better choice?”
“Oh, it is if you know Wyatt Walker. Actually, you guys would probably be great friends, he’s a lot like you.”
“Oh, I dunno,” says Jax with a sideways grin. “A lot of the girls around here would rather kill each other than themselves for the chance to be with me.”
“Wow, someone thinks very highly of himself.”
“Are you going to ask your question?” he asks.
“Are there others up here besides you guys?”
“Yes. Did you come up here alone?”
“Yes. How many others?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on,” I reply with aggravation.
Jax shakes his head, hair flopping across his tanned forehead. “I don’t. We have no way to know.
It’s not like we have ways to track people like you do. The bombs from the war basically destroyed everything except for those far enough away from the two dozen or so ground zeroes to survive. And there was no way for anyone to know how many died from radiation or illness or injuries or even starvation afterward. In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly live a cushy, risk-free life up here. Your ancestors were safely holed up in ROC while the surface slowly died. Even a century hasn’t been enough time to recover from all that.”
“Two dozen?” I repeat in horrified shock.
“Yeah. I don’t know much of the history about it, never really cared ‘cause it was over and done with long before I was born, but most of the major cities at that time were destroyed, and apparently anyone and anything in a fifteen mile radius. Millions more died in the aftermath and most people were idiots back then, didn’t know how to survive on their own, so they mostly starved or killed each other.”
“Charlie said the former United States did that to themselves, killed their own citizens.”
“They did.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.”
The Gamble (The Gamble Series Book 1) Page 8
