by S T Branton
“Nope.” She raised an eyebrow. “All I know is that they never look too happy to see each other.”
“Cool.” I sighed. “Awesome.”
I turned the key and glanced at the empty seat next to me. Luis made a habit of getting out at every stop to check on the crowd. He had last reported a significant drop in morale. I assumed I’d get a similar report when he came back again.
“People are starting to think we’re gonna die on the road,” he’d told me grimly. “The last camp didn’t really cut it for them in terms of feeling like…well, like we’re out of the woods. We gotta get somewhere with real beds and shit—that’s what they want.”
I glanced at Maya. “If you see Luis, can you tell him it’s time to roll out? Things will get better once we get where we’re going, I think. I hope, anyway.”
She nodded. “Sure.” As she turned to leave, she stopped and peered back at me. “Hey, Vic? I want you to know I think you’re doing great.” She left before I could thank her.
I must agree with Maya’s sentiment, Victoria. You may not always feel like a leader, but you have stepped admirably into the role.
“I appreciate that,” I said. “Now, let’s hope this move pays off the way we want it to.”
Two minutes later, Luis hopped into his seat, and I eased the truck back onto the road, watching in the mirrors for the refugees to follow.
Dan was the one who pointed out the graveled path into the brush. It wound between two perimeter markers, which he studied for a moment before nodding and telling me to proceed. He fell back to confer with his infantrymen, and I radioed Deacon. “Don’t quote me on this, but I think we made it.”
“Yeah.” His voice held an undercurrent of apprehension. “I’m not breaking out the champagne just yet.”
“Me neither.” All I could see was a tangled growth of trees and plants, with a passage hollowed out of the middle. The place felt ominous. I didn’t get a welcoming vibe at all. Although if this was previously a secret military base, I doubted they wanted people strolling up to their gates.
“Marcus,” I said. “In your professional opinion, what are the odds that this is another trap?”
Greater than zero, he admitted. That being said, I do not sense anything overtly strange in the vicinity. Make of that brief assessment what you will.
My foot pressed the gas pedal, and the truck crept forward. Entering the claustrophobic tunnel of greenery reminded me of a car wash. Leaves and branches scraped the windows, blanketing us with soft shadows, and a hush descended outside the vehicle. The human figures trudging behind the bumper blurred in the dimming light.
“Where do you think we’ll come out?” I asked, mostly to defuse the nervous tension in the truck. “Narnia?”
“If I see Mr. Tumnus, I’ll put a fucking bullet between his eyes,” Luis responded.
I laughed in surprise. “What? Why?”
“Because the last goat man I saw tried to kill me.” He had his eyes fixed forward, his hands gripping the stock of his gun. “I’m not about to trust anything with hooves.”
Point taken. I made the judicious decision to shut the hell up, at least until I knew what was going on. The overgrown tunnel continued for fifty more yards before it opened onto a much cleaner, more normal path. We’d gone from secret passage to country road in the space of a few feet. The transition was jarring.
Luis saw it first. “Okay, I take it back,” he said, his voice flat with irony and tinged with a kernel of dark amusement. “Narnia would be a hell of a lot better than this shit.”
I stepped on the brake. “Holy shit.”
The building rising in front of us out of the thick, misty Poconos morning looked like a structure created for one thing—containment.
It did not look like our new home sweet home.
Chapter Sixteen
Seven of us stood in a cluster beside the trucks, gazing up at the austere majesty of what Dan told us was called Fort Sigel. A massive double fence encircled the entire perimeter, topped by menacing loops of razor wire. “Are we absolutely sure this is a fort?” I asked. “Because I can’t help feeling like we’re about to turn ourselves in.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Luis agreed. “This place looks like a fucking prison. I’ll take a wet tent over jail any day.”
I was inclined to agree, but Dan stepped forward and held his hands up, turning to face us. “Whoa there,” he said. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. As far as I’m concerned, this looks pretty normal and considering the circumstances, I’d be more worried if they didn’t have a shit ton of defenses in place.” We must have still seemed incredibly skeptical because he hastened to add, “Trust me. The military decks their important places out like this all the time. We’re looking at high-security secret stuff, remember.”
Soldiers work in mysterious ways, Victoria. This stronghold looks very different to those I knew in my day, but his statement strikes a chord of truth. Have I not attempted to instill such a love for defense in you?
It made sense. I nodded. “All right. No use standing around with our jaws on the floor, then, is there?” Frank, Maya, and Jules turned to gather the group in a more orderly fashion, but I touched the Were’s arm. “Hey, can I ask you a favor? There’s a job that needs to get done, and you’re the best suited, hands down.”
“Sure, Vic.” She looked toward the refugees for a moment, then turned and gave me her usual, easygoing smile. “Anything I can do to help.”
Gesturing at the mountain forests grown in around the fort, I said, “Ever since the last supply run, I’ve thought about how there must be more survivors. Could you wolf out and do another search in the vicinity? Assuming we can gain entry here, I want to make sure we bring as many people with us as we can.”
“Absolutely,” Maya said. A determined light gleamed into her eye. “If there’s anyone out there, I’ll make sure I find them.”
I returned her smile. “Good. I know you will. I’ll send Luis with you for backup in case you run into any trouble. He looks like a kid, but he’s a pretty good shot and smart as hell. You’ll make a kick-ass team.”
She laughed. “Okay. In that case, let me snag a change of clothes first, and we’ll be off. You want me to do some recon while we’re out there? It couldn’t hurt to try and find out what the gods’ next move is, right? I mean, I doubt they’d leave their plans lying around, but you never know what I might find.”
Power—even godlike power—does not necessarily beget intelligence, Marcus quipped.
“I like that thinking,” I answered. “Round up everyone you can and report back to me, but if you do find people, be careful what risks you take. We can always do a separate scouting trip.”
“Right.” Maya scooted off to get extra clothes, and I went to inform Luis of his new assignment.
“Aye aye, Captain.” The kid snapped a salute and shouldered his gun. “Not gonna lie. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about getting trapped in that chunk off concrete anyway.” As he walked away to meet up with Maya, he called over his shoulder. “It’s a glorified prison, no matter what anyone says.”
I shook my head on my way to the others. His observations were at least visually accurate, and perhaps not totally unfounded, but the fort was the first place I’d seen in weeks that even looked safe from the outside. Right now, the potential for security was too valuable to pass up.
Our nomad company of refugees began to flow slowly toward the front of the fort, which was blocked by fence gates and flanked by spotlight-equipped watchtowers. The heavy door beyond the gates had uniformed guards on either side. Each held a rifle in their hands.
Whatever the intentions of its inhabitants, Fort Sigel meant business.
Brax stopped walking twenty yards from the first gate. When I looked at him, he scowled and turned from the guards. “Fuck this,” he said. “I’m not going in there.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You knew we were coming here from the be
ginning, and now it’s suddenly a problem?” The strain of the journey showed clearly on her face. She was ready to fight.
He laughed coldly. “After all that time in Asphodel, there’s no way in hell I’ll live more of my life behind one fence, let alone two. I’ve stuck with you for longer than I might’ve expected, but this is where I get off the train.”
Veronica opened her mouth again, but I stopped her. “Don’t worry about it,” I said quietly. “It’s okay. He knows what he’s doing.” She rounded on me then, incredulous. “Trust me,” I told her. “It’ll be fine.”
She stared at me for a second longer, then heaved a sigh. “Fine. All right.”
Brax turned away. “It’s always been your mission, not mine,” he said. “The humans are on their own. Including you.” He paused. “Take care of yourself. It’s a wild world now.” The next thing I saw was his back as he headed out, leaving us all to stand there and watch him go.
Deacon chuckled. “Bye, Brax,” he muttered sarcastically. “We’ll miss you too.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I fixed my eyes straight ahead and kept them there. “Whatever he wants, it’s got nothing to do with me. We have no beef.”
It is true that I have yet to see a single cow, but I do not understand what that has to do with Abraxzael.
I sighed. “Let it go, Marcus. Let’s get this meet-and-greet over with, okay?”
The centurion grumbled but didn’t say anything more. With Deacon, Dan, and Veronica at my side, I approached the gates.
“Halt.” The guard on the left stepped forward, his rifle in hand, to scrutinize me from under the brim of his helmet. “Stay where you are. What’s your business here?”
“We’re a band of survivors seeking shelter,” I replied. I spread my arms to indicate the small colony shuffling behind me. “As you can see, we have a lot of families with us—children, elders, those in need of medical care.”
The guard craned his neck to see past me, staring at the crowd with unreadable eyes. He glanced at his colleague and back at me. “Where did you come from?” he asked tersely.
Honesty seemed like the best policy, especially since I couldn’t think of a decent lie. “New York City. We’re all fleeing the invasion.”
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly fleeing it, per se, but they definitely were, and that meant the statement still scanned at, like, eighty percent truth. Maybe higher.
My buddy, the army guard, didn’t appear to buy it. Again, he examined us in all our pitiful glory with a critical eye, and he looked at his partner once more. The time, the second guy tilted his head to talk into the radio secured at his shoulder. I heard the static but not what he said.
“There’s an awful lot of you,” the first guard observed, using a tone that suggested he thought I might be involved in human trafficking instead of search and rescue. “How’d you manage to move so far with a group this big?”
I suppressed the urge to get snarky with him. “We’re survivors. We’ve gotten pretty good at it, I guess.”
His face showed no hint of expression, and after another few seconds, he stepped back from the gate. Static crackled across his radio channel.
Everyone waited.
Behind me, the refugees grew a little restless. They could see that things had stalled, and I heard them murmuring, but I made a point not to look back. It was too late to show any signs of uncertainty or weakness. If there was shit there, we’d already walked headlong into the pile.
The sliding clatter of industrial locking mechanisms filled the air. I braced myself as the door swung open to reveal a stout man whose ample belly strained against his impeccable uniform. He was unexpectedly jovial, already smiling widely. The iron set of his jaw and the ramrod-straight posture further denoted him as a superior officer.
“Hello, hello!” A booming laugh freed itself from his throat and soared above our heads. “I’m the general, and that’s what you can call me.” He waved his men off, striding directly up to the gate. “Looks like we’ve got a good-sized crowd here. Well, the more, the merrier.” He gave a signal, and the guard on the right punched a code into a panel. Immediately, the gates disengaged.
“Wait,” I said. Everything had sudden happened so fast. “You’re letting us in?” My brain knew this was the optimal outcome, but I’d also been ready to deal with the very real possibility of rejection. Or at least an argument.
“Of course we are,” he exclaimed as though anything else was absurd. “There’s plenty of space for everyone. This was a functional military base, you know.” He chuckled. “I suppose it still is, in a way. After all, the resistance is in full swing, and it’s groups like yours and mine that form the backbone. I can’t very well turn away a fellow fighter.” His look became abruptly meaningful. “And I know you’re a fighter, young lady.”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” I answered. “And the name’s Vic.” The weight of the man’s eyes centered squarely on me, but I refused to back down.
“Ha! That’s quite right, Vic. But you’ll be perfectly safe here. Not to worry. I do have one non-negotiable stipulation.” He surveyed us all. “You must surrender your weapons. No exceptions.” One of his bushy eyebrows quirked upward. “In the event of an attack, you’ll be able to retrieve them, but they will be under lock and key at all other times. They will not be handled by anyone else after lockup, and it goes without saying that there will be no tampering. On that, you have my word.” The General said these things somberly, projecting an air of utmost seriousness, but the thought of giving up the Gladius Solis made my stomach churn.
“No exceptions at all?” I kept my voice as even as possible.
“None.” The general patted his hip in the same place that the Gladius Solis hung in its sheath on mine. “Make no mistake, my newest friend. We know all about your exploits in the city. That security feed from City Hall was plastered all over the news for at least a week.” Another smile worked its way onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “We know exactly who you are. What we don’t know is what you are, or what your plan is. But I like your moxie, and for now, that’s good enough.”
Well, shit. The guy had had me pegged from the beginning. I couldn’t help feeling like the underdog in an unfair game, but there was nothing we could do. The hundred people waiting at my back would all end up victims if I decided to let impulse and stupidity prevail.
“Understood,” I told him. “Please excuse us for a moment while we confer.”
“By all means.” He moved back, and I drew my team around me. Frank, Steph, and Jules had made their way to the front of the masses, and they jumped in as soon as they saw the huddle.
“Who’s the brass?” Frank wanted to know. “Did he say we’re not allowed? I can rough him up for ya.”
I frowned. “No, Frank. He said the opposite. He’s letting us in…if we give him all our weapons.”
“Are you crazy?” His volume rose briefly out of control. He reined himself in with an awkward grimace. “Sorry, sorry. But you’re outta your mind if you hand that sword over. I guarantee you’ll never see it again.” He made a slicing motion with the flat of his hand. “Done. Out of sight. Forever.”
“He’s right, for once,” Deacon said. “We don’t know for sure that these aren’t the wrong hands. Even if they don’t want to use it to help the other side, there’s a lot that sword is capable of.”
Victoria, know that I trust your choices implicitly, but I feel compelled to inform you that letting go of Kronin’s sword is an act that many would consider inconceivable.
“I know,” I said in response to both. “Nobody knows that better than me. But there’s no way I can leave these people in the lurch after we brought them all the way here. There’d be a riot.”
“That’s probably also true,” Deacon admitted.
I sighed. “Then it’s settled. I’ll give them the sword, and if they won’t give it back, I’ll beat their asses until they do. That sounds like a fair compromise to me.”
/>
Steph looked like she really wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she held it back. I saw she and Deacon exchange a glance in the instant before I turned back to the general.
“What will it be?” he asked, smiling like he already knew.
“We agree to your terms.” I unfastened the sword hilt from my belt and placed it carefully into the massive lockbox they’d already wheeled out during our deliberations.
The man nodded approvingly. “Excellent. A wise choice by a wise and undoubtedly powerful leader.” He beckoned me toward the door with a sweep of his arm. “Shall we?”
The sounds of my team putting their weapons into the fort’s apparently impenetrable lockbox echoed in my ears. Strangely unencumbered for the first time since the very beginning, I followed our host through the entrance to his stronghold.
Just inside, the general paused. Then he turned to me and, in a voice that rang with pride, proclaimed, “Welcome to Fort Sigel.”
Chapter Seventeen
No sooner had we crossed the threshold than the old soldier whisked me off for a tour of the place. Deacon and the others had to jog to catch up. Our heads constantly swiveled, taking in the sheer enormity of the fort. As imposing as it had seemed from the outside, the interior felt ten times bigger. A mazelike network of stark corridors connected room after room.
“We’re in a very good spot here at Fort Sigel, as you can see,” our guide said, beaming like a college tour guide. “Plenty of accommodations, plenty of food, plenty of high spirits.” He led us up to an enormous, high-ceilinged chamber lined with benches tucked under sturdy metal tables. “The mess hall. There are enough rations back there to last us months—maybe years if we’re careful. The kitchen’s not exactly state-of-the-art, but it gets the job done. Obviously, we have people here at the fort who take care of these things, but if you ask nicely, I bet you could talk your way onto kitchen duty.”
