The Gamble (The Gamble Series Book 1)

by Kathryn Jacques

  “So how exactly do I use this thing?” I ask, gesturing to the weapon as I fall into step with Jax.

  He barely glances at me and continues walking, forcing me to scurry to keep up with his long, determined strides. I have no idea where he’s walking to with such purpose.

  “Point and shoot,” is all he says.

  “Ok, I mean like, how do I aim?”

  “Oh, well, then just point.”

  I press my lips together and glare, resisting the urge to give him a good push despite my injured shoulder. “You don’t always have to be a jerk you know.”

  “But it seems to suit me so perfectly. Can’t have people think I like them or something.”

  “Right. God forbid.”

  We’ve reached the massive front gates and Jax nods to one of the guards. “We’re going out for target practice.”

  “Target practice?” I ask with surprise. “I’ve been shot remember?”

  A muscle twitches in his jaw. “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

  “I can barely lift my left arm! Holding this thing is hard enough!”

  “All the more reason to practice. If you can learn to be proficient when you’re injured, you can be great when you’re healed. Nobody has time for injuries around here.”

  The guard covers a laugh with the back of his hand before swinging open the gate, allowing both of us and Tisis to pass through before shutting it again.

  Jax ruffles the fur around the wolf’s neck before she bounds away in search of a good hunt, tail wagging behind her. With evident dismay, I follow Jax along a cracked and faded asphalt road leading from the compound entrance and disappearing off into the woods. Grass, weeds and wildflowers have grown up through the pavement; nature taking back what had rightfully belonged to it all along. Farther away stands a group of houses. Or what had once been houses. Considering they now lack roofs, doors, windows and a couple of walls, they are less homes and more a lonely reminder of what had once been all those decades ago.

  After a few more feet we’re in the woods, the trees forming a thick canopy overhead and keeping the ground below cool and shaded. I glimpse the pale blue of the sky through the leaves, and sunlight dances down to create bright patterns on the grass. A small furry creature hops from under a bush, its long ears pricked curiously at the new arrivals into its world.

  “Whoa,” I whisper in amazement, my breath catching as I recognize the animal from my biology lessons. “Is that a rabbit?” I step a little closer and frighten the poor thing, causing it to bounce back into the underbrush, its cottony tail flicking in distress.

  “I forget you’ve never seen any of these things before,” Jax replies in the same uninterested tone he always uses.

  “I’ve seen pictures,” I say defensively.

  “And that’s the same as the real thing?”

  I think for a moment. “No. The real thing is definitely better.”

  “Who’s Rey?”

  I’m so startled by hearing his name that I almost trip over a large rock half buried in the dirt. “What?” I squeak, my throat clenching tight and heart nearly stopping.

  “Rey. When you were unconscious you kept saying that name.”

  “Oh, uh,” I stammer looking at the ground to hide the tears that rise behind my eyes the way water fills a glass moments before it overflows. “He was a friend.”

  “Was?”

  “He’s dead,” I say flatly, as though someone else used my mouth to form those words. They feel harsh against my tongue, like sandpaper, and even though it’s been over a week, I still can’t believe it’s true. I don’t know if I’ll even really believe it. “He died inside the Occupied Zone.”

  “From the Gamble?”

  The way he asks, so blasé and innocent, just like when Charlie asked about it, causes my face to contort in anger. the Gamble doesn’t mean anything to him. To Jax and all those on the surface who get to live in freedom, it’s just a word, not a horrific reality of life. Not something one fears every year. Not something that destroys lives.

  Like a wildfire, I lose control of my rage as it burns through my veins and explodes outward. “What the hell do you people think you know about the Gamble? You’ve never listened to the names called! You’ve never had your number in there wondering if you’ll be selected next! You haven’t… you never had…” but my voice breaks on the wealth of emotions I struggle to hold at bay. My right hand grips my gun so tightly, my knuckles hurt and I’m trembling.

  “Hey,” Jax mumbles, taking a step back. For someone who moves with an unnatural, elegant grace, he suddenly seems very clumsy. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to understand why you’re here, why you risked so much to come to the surface, especially when you thought doing so would kill you.”

  I take a long minute to compose myself and find some way to explain my decisions to someone who can never fully understand. I have to explain ROC to Jax in the same way I would explain the sky to someone in ROC, someone who has no true frame of reference other than what they’ve been told. Turning my head upward, I find peace in the vast, empty space soaring for eternity above, memorizing every gorgeous detail.

  Up to this moment, my whole life had been spent learning about the surface. What it looked like before the supposed nuclear bombs; the colors and weather and animals and everything. I had read so many stories as a child from life before the wars and before ROC existed and all I ever wanted was to feel those things for myself because somehow, I just knew they would be wonderful.

  For the first time, I realize my decision to leave the O.Z. wasn’t entirely because of Rey. His death was the catalyst, but my choice was based on years of fear and sorrow and frustration at a situation I couldn’t control and tragic deaths I certainly couldn’t stop. It was born of the terror I felt with my number submitted for the first time and the knowledge that I would eventually die, due to the Gamble or otherwise, having never once enjoyed a moment of true freedom.

  My thoughts calm and my head clears and I refocus on Jax. “I’m here because I didn’t care about dying anymore. In the eighteen years I’ve been alive, I’d never felt the sun on my skin, or tasted rain, or even seen a single star. I didn’t want to be a prisoner anymore and if death were the only road to freedom, I’d gladly walk it so long as I thought I could glimpse the sky even for just one moment.”

  Jax says nothing, probably the only time I will see him rendered speechless, while he stares as though he’s never really seen me before until this exact second.

  Then he turns and pushes forward in our original direction. “Then you’ll probably want to see this.”

  We hike along the broken road for nearly ten minutes before he veers off on a narrow dirt path winding through the underbrush. Branches prick at my hair and my boots stick in an occasional puddle of mud. I’m about to ask where we’re going when we round a curve in the trail and I find myself gazing at a lake so large, I can’t even see the east or west ends as they vanish behind trees and dip over the horizon.

  Deep, blue-green water glimmers under the sun’s bright rays. A breeze causes the smooth, mirrored surface to ripple outward with tiny waves that wash up onto the dirt beneath my feet.

  Stepping away from Jax, my mouth drops open in awe at the magnificent view of the lake and the foliage and the sky; a masterpiece of forest green and burgundy, navy and sepia, colors I have all seen before, but never so vibrant and alive. The air smells clean and fresh and I realize it’s the same way Jax smelled earlier when he caught me in his arms. I blush and duck my head because I don’t know why I’m even thinking about that.

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmur.

  “It’s where I come when I want to be alone.”

  My head snaps up. “And you brought me here?”

  “After eighteen years of essentially being buried alive, it seems like you deserved to see this.” Stepping up beside me, I’m suddenly very aware of just how close he is. Only the width of a finger separates our shoulders and I can a
lmost feel electricity hum between us. He looks down at me and I notice his eyes are the same color as the lake. My heart starts that weird thing again where it beats too fast. I wish it would stop because it’s confusing and makes me feel annoyingly breathless.

  “So,” Jax says, “am I still a jerk?”

  I roll my eyes and giggle… why am I giggling? What the heck is wrong with me?

  “Probably. But at least now I know you can be nice.”

  Footsteps echo through the forest and I turn, thinking it must be someone from the compound. But Jax immediately becomes alarmed. Without a sound, he grabs my arm and jerks me into a grove of trees where we crouch behind several large boulders covered in thick, squishy moss.

  “What are you-“ I begin, but he cups a hand over my mouth, silencing my questions as six figures appear along the path, five men and a woman. Based on their attire, they are certainly not from the compound. All wear what looks like black armor; matte and leathery; and each carries a machine gun. My own weapon hangs against my thigh, but I have no idea how to use it so we really only have Jax’s. The odds don’t look good.

  “Are they the League?” I whisper. Jax nods, watching the figures carefully through the gaps between the trees. He’s alert and attentive and even though we are outnumbered, I don’t feel afraid because somehow I believe Jax is far more dangerous than even his cold demeanor lets on.

  The six League members stop on the path. One picks up a rock and hurls it into the lake where it lands with a splash.

  “You think she’s serious?” one of the men, a tall one with jet black hair and tan skin asks.

  “She said she was, didn’t she?” the woman snaps. “What benefit would lying do her?”

  “We should have made sure though, before we tell Sawyer or Elijah,” a second man replies nervously.

  The woman glares. “And how could we have made sure? Stomped through the compound searching everyone for a barcode? That idiot Charlie would have thrown a fit.”

  At the mention of a barcode, I stiffen. The only person they can be talking about is me. Jax wraps one arm around my shoulders, careful to avoid my stitches, and pulls me tight against him as if he can protect me from these people. Or he’s trying to stop me from running away and crashing through the forest like a moron, I’m really not sure.

  Another man snorts. “Like we can’t take on Charlie’s little compound. Sawyer could send half a squadron from our security force and we’d still crush them. They’re terrified of us anyway. I bet most wouldn’t even fight back.”

  “No one is fighting anybody today,” replies the woman. “We’re telling Elijah what we know, and he’ll take it from there. Now, let’s go meet up with everyone else. I wanna get home before it gets dark.”

  The group marches past, completely unaware of our presence. In a few moments they have vanished from view. We stay crouched for almost a full minute before Jax rises again, stepping out from behind the rocks. I, however, don’t move.

  “It’s ok, they’re gone,” he calls, but my legs seem to have forgotten how to work and my fingers are digging into a little divot in the rock. Jax slips back around the boulders. “Kelsey?”

  “They were talking about me.”

  Ruffling a hand through his thick hair, Jax kneels down. “Yeah, they were. Someone at our compound must have told them about you.”

  “But why? Who? What would the League care?”

  “I don’t know, but we need to go tell Charlie. She’ll know what to do. Come on.”

  With a gentle grasp, Jax takes my hand and helps me to my feet. My legs are shaking and wobbly, but I have to keep up with his long pace. Jax whistles and a few moments later Tisis bounds from the underbrush. A rabbit of her own dangles from her teeth. Within fifteen minutes we’re back at the compound and for some reason, being inside the stone walls makes me feel safe and secure again.

  Walking quicker than normal, Jax rushes across a field in the direction of the large yellow farmhouse. Striding to the stained-glass front door, half its panes cracked or missing, he knocks loudly twice and a dark-skinned woman answers, one eyebrow lifted in question.

  “We need to speak with Charlie,” Jax says authoritatively. “We have information on the League.”

  The woman leads us inside to a small office at the back of the home which features a marred wooden desk and three stripped armchairs that have surely seen better days. Before she leaves to find Charlie, she indicates we can sit, but neither of us do. I can’t speak for Jax, but I’m too busy mentally freaking out to think about something trivial like sitting, so I pace instead, wringing my hands. Pacing and wringing will totally help right now.

  We don’t speak and a minute later Charlie glides in, quiet and confident, her chin held high. She shuts the door behind her and faces Jax. Her expression says she’s ready for a battle of wills, and I’m fairly certain this isn’t the first time Jax has shown up in her office for a heavy debate.

  “The League is up to something that involves Kelsey,” Jax blurts before Charlie even has a chance to say anything. Her eyes dart toward me and then back to Jax.

  “What? What could they possibly know about Kelsey? She’s been here barely a week, and half that time she was unconscious.”

  “Someone in the compound told them, a woman, probably today while they were here demanding more supplies.”

  Charlie sighs, shoulders sagging as she rounds the desk to sit in her own torn chair.

  Folding her hands together on the desk and leaning forward, she fixes her gaze on Jax. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  He launches into the full story, from our original goal of having target practice to what we overheard. Charlie listens intently to every word while saying nothing. I want to add details, but I’m suddenly worried that she will force me to leave the compound now that I’ve become a liability. She can’t have someone like me; someone from ROC; living here and endangering the lives of her entire community. I don’t know where I’ll go, maybe I’ll have to go back to ROC, but certainly I won’t be staying here. As Jax finishes, we all watch each other in silence for several tense seconds and a sense of helpless sadness washes over me.

  “I see,” Charlie finally says, drawing her laced fingers to her lower lip. “I hate to think someone in our own compound has turned against us, but that seems to be the unfortunate truth. Unfortunately, we have no idea who, and with slightly over two-hundred women here, I’m afraid we won’t be able to figure that out.”

  “So now what?” Jax demands. “Are we going to do something to stop them?”

  “Jax, we’ve been over this two dozen times. We are not attacking the League, we are not taking the League out, we are not blowing up their building and we are not going to draw any additional attention to ourselves because that will only result in our entire compound being crushed into the earth. They are too big and powerful for us to challenge.”

  “Then I should leave?” I finally ask, my voice high pitched and shaking.

  Charlie’s head whips to face me, a look of appalled horror on her features. “No. Absolutely not. You have nowhere to go. I’m not going to turn an innocent person into the woods to survive on their own, especially one that has zero survival skills and has been living in a subterranean chamber up until a week ago.”

  “Then what do we do?” Jax asks with impatience, his brow knitted together and eyes narrowed.

  “Until we have more information, we be careful. I’ll leave tomorrow with a team to alert the other compounds that the League is up to something again and that they might have traitors amongst their own groups as well. It’ll take me at least a week and a half to get to both of them and back, but they should have a head’s up since we have no idea what the League is capable of or what they’re up to this time. Meanwhile Kelsey, you don’t go anywhere alone, whether it’s inside our walls or not. And make sure you learn how to handle that weapon. Sounds like you might need it soon.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Just point i
t at that bull’s-eye over there, and pull the trigger,” Jax explains. Two days have passed since we overheard the League’s conversation. As a precaution, Charlie thought it best we give the League a couple days to clear the woods before I wandered back out. Now Jax, Daniel and I are near the giant lake and standing across from a crude shooting target made out of burlap, straw and berry juice.

  “You know what,” Daniel says thoughtfully and leaning on his gun propped against the ground. “I’m gonna stand over there, just in case.” He moves until he’s twenty feet behind me and partially concealed by a tree.

  With a sigh, I lift the gun, wincing at the stabbing discomfort in my bad shoulder. The stitches have been removed, but the soreness seems to have only gotten worse and my shoulder features an interesting array of blue, purple and green bruises.