All I can think about is the compound; Charlie and Jax, Nadia and Randolph and Evy and everyone else the League will kill, if they haven’t already. I’m desperate to know, even though knowing it will only break my heart, but no one will talk to me. I can barely speak more than a few incoherent mumblings anyway. I’ve become one of Sawyer’s mannequins, aware of the world around me, but unable to interact. All I need is some dead moss and a few rubbish gemstones.
The sound of a door swinging inward makes me force my eyes to blink open in time to see Elijah stride into my little cell.
“Come on. There’s something I want you to see.”
He hauls me to my feet, and then half carries me because my legs prefer to veer wildly in random directions as I try to walk. I hate that I have to rely on Elijah for support, for him to drag me along to whatever horror he wants to present. I hate that I can’t fight or even hold my head up for longer than a few seconds. I hate that I trusted people who certainly never earned it in the first place.
But most of all I hate that I ever left ROC to begin with because in doing so, I have only caused more death and destruction. It follows in my wake like a savage beast. An eternity with Wyatt Walker would have been better than any of this.
Since I’ve become more of a puppet than a human, it takes almost twenty minutes for us to exit the mall and arrive at the top floor of the parking garage. With the effort moving requires, I am exhausted, but my legs seem to work a little better and my head is the clearest it’s been in the three days since they started the drugs. I am at least now able to stand on my own, if not a little shaky and dizzy, the colors of the world swirling around my vision.
“Look,” Elijah commands, pointing north, a sinister grin plastered on his pale, freckled face.
My head feels like a rock and my eyes don’t want to focus, but with cautious, unsure footing, I manage to stagger to the edge of the cement wall surrounding the lot, resting my hands on its rough surface, the most solid thing I have felt in days.
In the distance, miles away rising over the tops of the forest hovers a gigantic plume of thick black smoke billowing over the world like a demonic fog. It cloaks the clouds behind it, ash floating onto the tops of the trees and even though I’m so far away, I can imagine the heat of the blaze against my skin and smell the smoke lingering in the air as the wind carries it towards me.
“That,” Elijah murmurs, stepping beside me, “is all that is left of your precious little compound and everyone in it. If you had any illusions of that boy coming for you, I can assure you he will not. That is what we do to those who defy us and that is how we will leave ROC once your father is stupid enough to open that door.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes and my grip on the wall tightens until the dented and cracked concrete cuts into my fingers. There’s an ache in my chest, the same stabbing agony I felt when Rey died except a hundred times stronger, threatening to undo me from the inside out. I can feel myself break apart, splintering into jagged slivers of the person I had once been. The girl that left ROC, that survived a gunshot, that escaped the League once before. None of it matters anymore; what good did any of that do anyway because it has all lead to this final moment.
They’re all dead. Every single one of them. Charlie and Randolph and Evy and Nadia.
And Jax.
Elijah wants a reaction from me, something to show that he has won and I am willing to admit defeat. I won’t give it to him. In a last act of whatever defiance I have left, I will not let Elijah see how this has affected me.
Closing my eyes, I drive my emotions away, shoving them into a box in the back of my fragmented mind. Maybe, if I contain them tightly enough, they won’t hurt so bad. Maybe if I lock them up, they won’t continue to gnaw at my bones like the insatiable, vicious creatures they are.
Turning slowly, transforming myself into a solid block of steel, as cold and hard as the cement under my fingers, I look Elijah dead in the eye. “May I return to my cell now?”
His grin falls, changing into a sneer. Even though he won the war, I won this battle and that small victory is something, the only thing I have left.
Without a word, he yanks my arm and tows me back to the basement, hurtling me onto the cot with such force that I smack into the wall, jarring my joints and bruising my shoulder.
“I think it’s time for your next dose,” he says. Sitting up, swaying slightly, I lift my gaze to meet his.
“Elijah, please don’t give me any more drugs. Please. I promise I’ll behave, and I won’t try to escape. I just don’t want to feel like I’m a ghost anymore.”
Strolling forward, he lifts an arm to run his hand through my hair, down the side of my face and lets his fingers trail along my neck. My muscles stiffen and I fight the urge to squirm away because his touch feels like worms slithering across my skin.
Then he grips my hair so tightly in his fist, wrenching my head sideways. I hiss at the shooting pain through my scalp as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “I’ll tell them to stop the drugs only because you have nowhere to escape to now, but if I think for one second you’re going to become a problem again, I’ll have them up the dosage until you’re nothing more than a slobbering, catatonic idiot.”
I nod that I understand, and he leaves me to lie here alone.
Alone.
The word hurts, smacking into me with a force all its own. It’s like I’ve never thought of alone before, never fully understood its meaning. It weighs on me like a thick blanket, suffocating and ensnaring, and I feel empty and lost inside because in this world, I truly am now alone. Everyone I have ever cared about, who has ever cared about me, is dead or will be in a matter of days. All because of me. All because I was selfish and childish and left ROC. I will soon be responsible for the deaths of thousands.
Folding into a ball on the lumpy cot, I let the emptiness consume me, dragging me down into its abyss.
* * *
A series of loud, sharp cracks and pops startle me awake. In the darkness I’m confused and disoriented, nearly falling off the cot until I remember where I am.
I hurry to the bars of my cage, pressing my face against the cool metal in the hopes of seeing anything.
“Hello?” I call, as if there’s anyone in the basement to answer.
Another boom tears through the building, loud enough to rattle the cell door and I step back in alarm. Shouts, and the sounds of people running, echo overhead, followed by what I can only assume is the rhythmic pops of gunfire.
Fear slithers up my spine. This must have something to do with ROC, what else could it be? Something has gone wrong with the League’s plans and now the Gendarme has attacked. I should be happy, but after what I did to escape, what I now know, how I have aided the League, they probably have orders to shoot me on sight.
Above my head, the sounds of chaos and destruction continue to intensify. I cast a despondent look around the cell, but there is no way I can break free from the cinderblock and metal confinement.
And then I’m out of time because footsteps pound down the hall, headed my direction. Flattening myself against the far wall, I pray they don’t see me in the darkness.
“Which one?” a voice hisses as the glow of a lantern falls on the tile floor.
“Not sure,” a second person responds. “Check over there.”
The light brightens, swinging left and right as they search each cell. Shrinking into the corner, I curl my knees to my chest to make myself as small as possible. My heart hammers against my ribcage and my hands shake uncontrollably as I clasp them around my legs.
Shadows fall over me, soft lantern light floating around the bars of the cage. I don’t dare move, but it won’t matter.
“Found her,” a man says and a moment later a woman appears beside him, squinting in the poor lighting. They don’t wear the uniforms of the Gendarme, dressed instead as the League in their black armor. Both clutch machine guns and I picture the dozens of bullets that will soon riddle my body.
> After everything, this is how it ends.
Though I tremble violently, I refuse to die cowering on the floor and rise to my feet, fixing my eyes on the two people sent to execute me. I hope it happens fast, but after everything I’ve caused, I don’t really think I deserve such mercy.
The woman slides a key from her pocket, unlocking the cage, allowing them both to enter.
The man flicks his head to the hallway “Let’s go.”
I blink, taken aback. “Go where?”
“To Charlie.”
Words stick in my throat like syrup.
“Charlie is dead,” I manage to choke out.
The two share a knowing glance before the woman steps forward. I immediately jump away and she stops, hands raised to show she means no harm.
“Charlie is alive, and she asked us to come free you while the rest of the compound keeps the League a little busy.
“But I saw the smoke…”
“Everyone is fine. We’re from the compound too.”
“Dressed as the League?” I point out. The woman looks down as if she’s forgotten what she’s wearing.
“Charlie planted us here a year ago,” she replies. “The League had spies in the compound, the compound has spies in the League, and we just got the signal from Charlie that it’s time to go.”
“Look, I’m Ethan, this is Lara,” the man says, casting his gaze down the hallway to make sure no one else is coming. “We don’t have time to explain much more than that. We need you to trust us right now.”
Trust. I’m not sure if I really trust anyone anymore. So many people I trusted have lied to me, others have betrayed me and those who I could have trusted seem to keep dying.
I am sure this is a trick, though I can’t figure out what purpose it would serve other than providing Elijah or Sawyer some sort of last laugh of amusement. But if I don’t follow willingly, they will only drag me out by force. I might as well maintain whatever dignity I have left. Besides, what else do I have to lose, my life? There was a point in time that didn’t much matter to me anymore. I’m at that point again.
With several tentative steps, I approach the woman, Lara, who smiles. Then she reaches under the back of her shirt and produces a small handgun. As she holds the grip forward, I stare blankly.
“Take it,” she urges. I do, pausing for a moment to check the clip. I’m at least not dumb enough to make the same mistake twice. It’s full.
“And how do you both know I won’t just shoot you in the back of the head?” I ask.
“Because that would be a really crappy thing to do to the people saving your life,” the man says. “Now let’s move before someone comes.”
Like rats, we scurry down the hall, Ethan leading and the woman bringing up the rear. Ducking around corners, we rush up the stairs leading to the first floor of the mall, guns ready should we encounter trouble.
I’m short of breath, my hands are clammy around my weapon and my brain screams for me to run as far from these people as I can get because surely following them will lead to my death. But I press on because I want to believe them. I want to believe that Charlie is alive because maybe that means Jax is alive too. I have to hope. Sometimes I feel like hope is the only thing between me and certain insanity, a final sentry standing its ground in my mind.
As we reach the first floor, I turn to take in the vast hall and nearly cry out in shock. The far end burns, hot orange flames licking up the walls and columns, devouring the stores and dancing up through one of the rooftop domes that has now shattered. Broken glass glitters on the floor like diamonds, and hundreds of shadows rush around the flames hurling buckets of water and trying to save anyone still trapped beyond the blaze. Judging by the size of the fire, water will accomplish nothing and anyone in those stores is long dead.
People shout orders or scream in fear and around all of the madness I can still hear gunfire, but I have no idea who is firing on whom or even from where because there is so much smoke and absolute pandemonium.
Then a loud boom erupts through the inferno, a sparkling trail of fire bolting skyward, through the broken dome where I hear a second burst beyond the roof of the building.
“What the hell…?” I murmur.
Ethan grabs my arm, veering me the opposite direction. “Fireworks,” is all he says. I remember Jax saying that word once too, but I still have no idea what it means.
Leading me through a dark store, we pick our way carefully around old, rotted furniture useful for nothing more than taking up space. I notice it’s all laid out like miniature rooms, some even with fake walls and windows.
Ethan’s light falls across a giant spider web, a black spider the size of my fist spinning a deadly cocoon around its prey. Rodents and cockroaches scuttle away from the lantern light and a shiver of disgust runs down my spine. Those sorts of insects and creatures never existed in ROC.
And then, stepping through the remains of a door hanging by only one hinge, we enter the night. I look up to see the far side of the building consumed by the hungry fire, flames leaping into the night and smoke so thick and heavy it has eclipsed the stars. Even from here it causes me to choke. The west side of the structure collapses into the inferno, and I wonder how many League members have died. Probably not enough for us to be safe.
Outside the air hangs hot and humid as if it rained only that afternoon. Keeping our heads down, we run across a large expanse of black tar while aiming for the nearest tree line. We nearly make it too before we hear someone yell behind us.
“Hey! Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”
Ethan halts so quickly I almost smack into him and have to rotate sideways while he plants his feet and raises his weapon. He has his finger on the trigger and is about to shoot when I hear another gun fire. A stream of blood spurts from Ethan’s neck and he falls to his knees, gun clattering from his grip before he tumbles backward.
“Ethan!” Lara screams, dropping to the pavement and trying to stop the thick, gurgling with her bare hands. Ethan convulses and gasps for air, terror laced in his features and I’m reminded of Daniel and how he died almost the same way. How he died because he wanted to protect me, just like Ethan will now. It isn’t fair. They don’t deserve this, not over someone like me.
Hot tears form in my eyes and before I can stop to think, I lift my gun, aim and shoot. And then I shoot again and again and again until the gun clicks because it’s empty. Somehow, even in the weak moonlight and from so far away, I manage to hit whoever had followed us. At this distance, I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. They only stare at the dark blood blossoming like roses on their chest, then take two staggering steps before crumpling onto their side, a limp and lifeless heap.
I have murdered two people.
I toss the empty gun away but by the time I turn back to Lara, Ethan’s taken his last struggled gasp for oxygen and his eyes have glazed over, two blank orbs staring at the moon, but not actually seeing anything at all.
Lara isn’t crying, though her face contorts and she bites her bottom lip so hard she punctures the soft flesh. Instead, she closes Ethan’s eyelids and kisses the top of his forehead. Standing, she wipes her hands on her pants and picks up her gun and the lantern Ethan had carried. Then, with one last look at her fallen friend, she takes my arm and we race for the forest.
CHAPTER TWENTY- NINE
We wander through the woods for nearly ten minutes. Lara doesn’t speak and I don’t bother though my brain swarms with a million questions, like how Charlie and everyone can still be alive? And why risk their lives to get me? And what the heck are fireworks anyway?
Three times I trip because even after all these weeks, I still have trouble walking on rocky, rutted terrain. We have nothing but the lantern to guide us anyway and the forest is so dark I can’t see the stumps and tree roots determined to take me down.
A figure materializes in our pathway and I freeze because I think it’s someone from the League, but Lara presses forward, the light from her
lantern shining off the familiar spiky black hair of Randolph. Beside him, Evy’s face comes into view, her long hair swinging behind her. I don’t move, rooted to my spot by shock and incredulity wondering if I really have gone insane. But then Evy rushes forward, Randolph only a moment behind and they both wrap me into a hug.
“You’re both alive,” I gasp, my voice breaking on fresh tears as the three of us embrace.
“Kelsey!” another voice exclaims, and I break away from the siblings to see Charlie emerge from the trees, two dozen or so compound members following her, all armed and alert.
With three long steps, she pulls me into a hug as well. I’m surprised at first because she always seemed to keep everyone at arms’ length in what I assumed was an effort to maintain an air of authority, but after a moment, I relax into her embrace, hugging her back. Even though she is thin and strong and I can feel the bones of her shoulders under my hands, she is comfortable and warm too.
The Gamble (The Gamble Series Book 1) Page 24
