by Rachael Wade
“Don’t cry. I hate that. Here.” He stood and popped open a container of something and placed a spoon in front of my mouth. “It’s just soup, I won’t poison you.”
It smelled good, so tempting, but I was too angry, too exhausted to eat. The tears kept blinding me, flowing in hot streams down my cheeks. My head hung and my knees gave out, my long brown locks cascading in a pool of rich chocolate around my shoulders. Peering up at him through the tears, I watched him raise the spoon closer to my lips. Wait for it….
The second he leaned in, I kicked forward, planting my foot right into his stomach. The soup container and spoon tumbled to the floor with a clatter. Expecting him to erupt in fury, I braced myself for the backlash. All I needed was a chance to wrap my legs around him, to manipulate a good body lock and hopefully find a way to break the cuffs in the scuffle. Even better if I could knock his keys loose somehow. One of them had to work on the cuffs.
Instead, he straightened up and dropped his arms to his sides, and sighed. He paused for a beat before bending down to retrieve the spoon and container, shaking his head. “That was the last hot meal I’ll have for a while. Thank you.” He tossed the items onto the table and returned to stand in front of me.
“It wasn’t your meal. What do you care?”
“It was my meal. I was trying to share it with you.” He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped his cheek. “They ration our food, and our prisoners only get bread on Sundays and Wednesdays.”
“Oh.” I watched him stuff the cloth back into his pocket.
“Lucky for you, I found a stash of something a few days ago while I was called out on duty.” Turning on his heel, he bent down and swiftly pulled a black backpack from underneath the table, zipping it open to reveal a box of Twinkies.
“Are those….?”
“Breakfast of champions.” He suddenly grinned. It was a crooked, tired smile. “They’re my favorite. I used to eat them all the time, before … everything.”
Letting my gaze drift over his chiseled arms and broad shoulders, I wondered how he could have a physique like that and eat Twinkies on a regular basis. He opened a wrapper, broke off a piece and carefully shuffled toward me again. “Now will you let me feed you, or are you going to try and wrestle again? Because if you cause me to drop this, I’ll be pissed.”
“Use the three-second rule if you care so much.”
“You don’t want to know what’s been on this ground.”
“I don’t give a shit, it’s not my food.”
“Oh, if you make me drop this and use the three-second rule, you’ll be eating it, too, baby.”
“Stop calling me baby. If you’re really out to protect me, let my arms free. I’ll feed myself.”
“I told you I can’t do that. Please don’t make this any more difficult on either of us. I don’t want to be on their side. Does that help you hate me any less?”
“No. Because you are. On their side.”
“Not because I want to help them.”
“Right. Okay, why, then?”
“They have my sister. She’s eleven years old. She’s at one of the children’s training camps. I need to find out which one, and I have a better chance if I’m looking for her from the inside. So I’m here. Now eat.” He reached out and held the piece of sugary goodness to my lips, waiting with patient, pleading eyes. I hesitantly took a bite and dropped my gaze, letting the spongy bread break apart in my mouth, which was scorching with thirst.
“Why bother protecting me? They’re just going to kill me.”
“You don’t know that.” Holding up another piece of Twinkie, he first wiped the last of my tears away with his free hand; dirty, callused fingers brushed over my cheeks in gentle sweeping motions.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, taking another bite. “When did they take your sister?”
“About a month ago.” He swiped a drop of cream from the corner of my mouth and sucked his finger, then raised a cup of water to my lips. “Her name’s Hera, and she’s the most beautiful, kind little girl on the planet.” Tipping my chin back, he gently held the cup to my mouth and I parted my lips, letting the cool liquid pour down my throat. His eyes found mine again and I looked away.
He cleared his throat and pulled the cup back. “I have to go.”
“Wait. Won’t you at least tell me when they’re going to take me out of here … what they’re going to do to me? Please.” Tears threatened again and my anger resurfaced, but I steeled myself, knowing I had to stay focused, had to hold it together if I wanted to find a way out of here alive.
“I would if I knew. But I don’t know yet. People are in here for all sorts of reasons. You’ve been collected, not charged with a crime, which means they’re going to use you for something, not punish you. I’ll do my best to make sure you’re sent to one of the safer units.” He returned the Twinkies to the bag and came back with a roll of duct tape.
“Collected? What does that mean? Which units are safer?”
“The Collected are sent into training or labor. At least there, you’re alive. Those who rebel are either killed on the spot or sent to the labs for testing. But those who cooperate and don’t cause any trouble seem to avoid those paths, so just behave, will you?”
“What crimes are people being charged with? They’re the ones who came to our planet. They attacked us.”
“Rebelling, refusing to surrender, hoarding supplies. They look down on those things.”
“Oh, do they, now? Who the hell wouldn’t rebel when they’re being forced against their will?”
“It’s more than that to them. Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to go. I have other cells to monitor.”
A million objections crowded my thoughts, but for some reason, I found myself apologizing. “I’m sorry I ruined your only meal.”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t put the gag in your mouth, I’ll just use tape. But please stay quiet or you’ll get us both into trouble. And you don’t want the others to come in here.”
“You mean them?” My eyes rolled up to the ceiling, listening to the Invaders’ monotonous march above us. It was a strangely lithe march, a smooth yet heavy sound that moved in a constant, forward motion.
“No. My kind.” He glanced down at me and winked, his height swallowing mine, and he ripped the tape, carefully placing it over my lips. “We’re all in charge of different cells. I’m assigned to yours and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll be back in a few hours. The toxin they injected you with is starting to wear off. It knocked you unconscious long enough to capture and transport you. That grogginess will be gone soon and you’ll have a wicked headache. I’ll bring you more water, too. That’ll help.”
He smoothed the edges of the tape around my lips and I nodded, feeling my eyelids swollen and heavy from all the crying. I held his stare for a moment until he broke the connection, readjusting the gun across his chest before turning for the door. He stopped, his back to me, his body a stark silhouette in the dark. “I’ll try and find out where they’re going to transfer you.”
And then my captor was gone, leaving me in this musty, damp hole in the ground, my arms and mouth still restrained, but my stomach fuller than before.
* * *
The sounds of laughing stirred me from a restless slumber, my neck and shoulders aching from the position in which I’d fallen asleep. I tried to straighten up and stand, to wiggle my knees and stretch them, but everything hurt, coaxing me to wince and cry out in pain. The light in the room grew brighter, and I found three men sauntering toward me with amused, excited looks on their faces.
“Well darlin’, we were just doing our rounds to check out all the new prisoners, and we are mighty delighted to find a hot young thing like you hanging here for our viewing pleasure.” The door locked behind them and I heard their knuckles cracking; low throaty chuckles made my skin go cold.
“Yes ma’am,” one of the larger, huskier men piped up, whistling through his teeth, eyeing me up and down with
greedy, carnal hunger. “We’ll do right by you, honey. We’ll make sure you get yours good.”
The three of them moved in and circled me. My adrenaline coursed thick and fast in my veins, my eyes wide. I lifted my head and struggled with the restraints, trying to adjust my feet on the floor. My legs were numb and my back ached in protest as I worked to straighten them out.
“Come here, baby. I promise you’ll like it.” One of them stationed himself in front of me and moved closer, his potent breath making my stomach roll. He bunched my shirt in his fingers and ripped it clear down the middle, yanking my bra apart next, the shredding sounds echoing through the cell. I didn’t have time to think. The other two quickly moved in behind me and I screamed loud and guttural against the tape, fear pounding hard and vibrating against my chest and throat, my legs flailing everywhere as I fought their hands on my body.
“Take off the tape,” one mumbled from behind me, while the man in front obediently ripped it from my mouth. “I wanna hear her.”
“No one’s coming for you, baby,” the bulky, greasy one said, laughing, his big hands cupping my breasts from behind. I flinched and cried out, my skin recoiling from the contact, and I tried desperately to land a kick on one of them. No luck.
The greasy one yanked my head back and stuck his tongue into my mouth, instantly triggering a rising of bile in my throat. I choked and gasped for air, pulling away from him. “Stupid bitch, come on!” he roared. A hard, ruthless smack landed across my cheek while the man in front successfully jerked my jeans open.
“No!” I screamed, writhing in front of him, the rage in me overflowing, morphing into something fierce and animalistic.
A loud pop and crackle sent waves of soft thumping into my ear, a fuzzy deafness settling over me like a heavy, warm blanket. The man in front of me dropped to the floor in a pool of crimson, his body jerking at my feet before the life drained from his eyes. Guns were pulled fast behind me, but my captor was faster, taking the men down with two swift blows to the chest. They both slumped to the floor as I heard their guns drop next to their lifeless bodies. My captor was already undoing my cuffs and tossing me my shirt, but I couldn’t see anything but the puddles of red at my feet.
“Hurry. We need to get out of here.”
I just stood there holding the shirt, an empty shell unable to repress the tremors rocking my body. He glanced down at the shredded lump of material in my hands and pulled his black shirt up over his head, carefully sliding it over my bare skin. He straightened his undershirt. “Skylla, listen to me.”
He reached for my wrists and started to rub them, eyes darting frantically around the room. “I just killed those sons of bitches and it’s not going to go over well. Hey.” He released my wrists and started snapping his fingers in front of my blank stare. Slowly moving to my jeans button, he raised his hands first for permission. I didn’t speak, didn’t nod, just blinked and watched him gently pull up the zipper, his deft fingers hooking the top button closed. “I know you’re in shock right now, but we need to leave. Do you understand me? They’ll kill us for this.”
“No way out,” I whispered, my speech slurring.
“We have to try. Come on.” He slung his gun higher up his shoulder, grabbed the men’s guns and attached them to his strap, then reached for the backpack under the table before lifting me into his arms. The last thing I saw as we exited was the three men on the ground, and I knew that whatever we were headed toward, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what almost happened to me in that room. Everything around me grew dark again and I started to drift, swaying in the arms of my nameless captor.
TWO
“Skylla, can you hear me?”
My whole body was shaking. Someone was running. I was running. No, my captor was running, and I was still draped in his arms. The thumps of his feet traveled up to the soles of my own, his hard, panting breaths stirring my hair as his chest quaked against mine. I opened my eyes to find my arms thrown loosely around his neck, my face turned into his throat.
“Skylla?” He repeated my name. How did he know my name?
“Where are we?”
“I need to know if you can stand.”
“I can try.” I blinked furiously, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I felt him change direction and then slow to a stop to set me on my feet. “I got it,” I said, my voice groggy.
“I’ve been running for a while,” he breathed, hovering over me. He held me against a cold brick wall, shielding me from something. “I just need a break for a few minutes.”
I took a few deep breaths and stretched my neck, my gaze finally focusing on our surroundings. It was nighttime, and we were in an alley of some sort. It was still. Quiet. No marching, no machines, no screams. “Where are we?” I asked again.
“Don’t know. Getting close to Mississippi, I think.”
“What?” That was impossible. “How long have I been out?”
“A few hours.”
Eyeing his tattooed arms as they encased me against the wall, I pressed my head back into the brick to give us some distance. One arm was decorated in a sea of dramatic black, an image of an angel and demon reaching for one another, a bridge separating them. His other arm was riddled with Gothic-style text. Poetry or song lyrics, I couldn’t tell. He studied me curiously and let up a bit, putting a few more inches in between us, making it impossible for me to read the words. “You’ve been running all this time?” I asked.
“I took a few breaks.”
“You could have set me down.”
“I didn’t want to.” His jaw muscles worked while he seemed to rethink his statement. “In case we were caught and I had to sprint, I mean. It was safer just to carry you.”
“So what are we doing? Why are you helping me?”
“I … don’t know yet.”
“You’re a wellspring of answers, you know that?”
“We need to find water, and then we need to keep moving west.”
“Why west?”
“Because it’s as far away from the prison as we can get, and it’s where I need to find my sister.”
“So you do know where your sister is?”
“I have an idea. Narrowed it down to three training camps on the west coast. But I was hoping to dig a little more, know for sure before I set out looking for her.”
I swallowed, suddenly needing even more space. I ducked underneath his arms and moved away from the wall. He didn’t seem to like the idea, but he let me go. I looked around, finding nothing but a blanket of darkness and twinkling stars above us, and two deserted buildings closing us in. “I’m not going any farther. I’m going to find a place to hide and stay here.”
“We have a hell of a better chance at surviving if we stick together.” He moved as I moved, glancing over his shoulder and out into the street, his hands fidgeting over his gun strap. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” He reached down to his belt and grabbed one, checking the ammo before handing it to me.
I stared down at the weapon. It was familiar for a few reasons. One, it was the gun of one of my attackers, who was now dead on the floor of my jail cell, and two, it was the exact same gun I’d used the night the Invaders came to my home in Morton. “Yeah, I know how to shoot.”
“Aim for the head or chest every time, and you should be fine. They die just the same, they just have better weapons than we do.”
I wanted to say, Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want this guy to know anything about me. I didn’t want to know him at all. He’d held me prisoner in a cell and fed me Twinkies, and now he was hauling my ass out west. I was grateful he’d saved me, but he was the one who’d made me powerless in that situation in the first place. “Thanks, but I don’t need any more protection,” I spat the words at him, rolling my eyes at his definition of what he was doing for me back at the prison. Tucking the gun into my jeans, I walked around him and started stalking toward the street.
“You can’t just go running off.” I could feel his feet behind me, kicking
up dirt.
“Watch me.”
“Skylla—”
“How do you know my name?” I whirled around to face him and he came to a stop, just inches from my face.
“You told me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You don’t remember, but you did.”
“When?”
“You were coming in and out of consciousness. I asked you your name.”
“When you locked me in my cell?”
His gaze shifted to the left, then floated back down to mine. “Before that. Look, it doesn’t matter. You need me right now, and I need you.”
I closed the inches between us. My nose hit just below his chin as I glared up at him. His height was intimidating, but I wouldn’t cower beneath him. “I don’t need anything from you, and I couldn’t care less if you need me. Thanks for saving me from those assholes, but we’re done here.”
I went to spin back around.
“I work street patrol. I’m a Collector, not just a prison guard. I know how to get around without being seen. You won’t make it a mile before they find you.”
His words froze me in place. Damn it all, the man was right. Why did he have to be right? “You’re a Collector?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you collect me? What was I, a scientific specimen?” The whole concept made me sick, because after what this guy had said about testing and labs, I knew there was a shred of truth to it.
“I did.”
“So you kidnapped me.”
“I’m not a kidnapper. Or a traitor. I was on duty, and you were there. I had to take you in. Now we have to move. Come on.” He resumed the lead and started for the street.
“Where did you collect me?” I followed him, watching as he looked from left to right before pulling me around the corner of the building, keeping one hand over his gun. At least one finger was always on that gun.
“Can you interrogate me later?”
“I want to know.”
