The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  The factory looms when we turn a corner. My eyes are drawn to the roof, and I’m reminded of the night Cash made me listen to his sins. He made me hear them because he preferred truth to the lies we tell ourselves to feel better. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.

  I’m turning my head upward to see his face when we’re thrown forward by an explosion behind us. We stumble a few steps, and it takes me several seconds to reorient myself. I spin around, frantic. The soldiers are scrambling for weapons, dragging each other off the ground. I crane my neck to look at the sky, but there are only low-hanging clouds, heavy with snow.

  “Matthew!” Her scream sends a painful jolt through me. One of the southern soldiers rushes back down the alley, in the direction we came from. I chase after her, skidding to a stop when her knees slam to the ground before the charred, bloody figure of a man. Smoke hangs in the air, and there’s a smell of burning waste and skin. A sour taste fills my mouth. The woman sobs, crying out his name, desperate. But I know he’s dead. I know, because I know what killed him.

  Other soldiers are injured, clutching bleeding parts of their bodies. How could I forget? How could we forget to warn them?

  Everyone has gathered around us, and Cash and Drew are examining Matthew, but it’s pointless. He fell prey to basic human instincts, the thing the Council exploits the most.

  “Don’t pick up anything!” Cash shouts, his voice sharp with anger. We should have warned them sooner.

  “What happened?” Meli breaks through the group. Her eyes widen when she sees. “What happened to him?”

  “Food can,” I say. All eyes turn to me, because it sounds ridiculous. “He saw a can of food. When he picked it up, it exploded.”

  They blink their eyes, faces pale. They still don’t understand.

  “The Council rigged them!” I say, angrier than I should. It isn’t their fault this happened. They couldn’t have known. Matthew probably thought he was being helpful. But he’s dead, because we’re in the valley now. There are no rules here, and nothing, not even a can of food, is safe.

  “Hannah,” Cash says. A couple seconds tick before I meet his eyes.

  “Run ahead and tell Solomon we’re coming.”

  I shake my head. I don’t understand.

  “Hannah. He’s still alive. Run!”

  Cash and Drew are already peeling the man from the ground. I sprint toward the factory, the freezing wind biting my face. He’s alive. How can he be alive?

  Soldiers run past me, drawn by the sound of the blast. I slam through a door, and I’m met by guns and angry, startled eyes.

  “Solomon!” I shout, looking between the men. Their guns lower, recognition setting in, and one man steps forward.

  “Come on,” he says. He jogs down the hall, and I follow, my legs numb from the panic. We push through a set of double doors, and everything is familiar. All around us, broken bodies are being tended, lying on cushion-less beds made from doors and tables. Men and women rush around, white bands on their biceps. I turn a slow circle when we reach the center. This factory is overrun. There are too many Workers, and too few to care for them. A woman rips a shirt into strips, dropping them in a bin. There aren’t enough supplies.

  “Hey!” the man leading me calls. I hurry to catch up. Solomon must be somewhere else, so before we leave the Infirmary, I grab the arm of a medic.

  “A can exploded,” I say, trying to communicate the urgency with my eyes. “They’ll be here any second.”

  The medic nods and rushes off. As we’re exiting, I glance back in time to see Cash and the others barreling through a doorway on the other side.

  “He’s in a meeting,” the soldier says. “But I think he’ll want to see you.”

  The halls are packed with bodies. Men and women and children sit along the walls, eyes wide and distant. A few of them meet my gaze, but I’m different now, and they probably can’t see the Worker in me anymore. Footsteps stamp the floor behind me; Cash is running to catch up. His coat is bloody from the man he carried.

  “Where did all these people come from?” I ask when he reaches me. I say it quiet, because some of them are watching.

  “Some from the mission we ran the night you were taken,” Cash says. “Others are from this sector. They were attacked a few days ago, and they all fled here.”

  We stop by a closed door. This is the brick-walled room. I remember standing here with Edan, the time he told me I had a choice. Sometimes I wonder if that’s true. I couldn’t really say no, not once the truth was laid out for me. What kind of person would that make me?

  “Wait here,” the man leading us says.

  Cash shrugs his coat off, grabs a shirt from a nearby bin, and disappears into the men’s bathroom. When he returns, the blood is gone.

  The door swings open, and Solomon’s voice drifts into the hall.

  “They never have to wait. Let them in,” he’s saying, stress edging his voice.

  Takeshi rushes into the hall, and his arms wrap around me. I don’t know what to do about it. I should return the hug, so I do, but barely. He doesn’t seem to notice my apprehension. How do you act around a prince? The hug is fast, but tight. He squeezes and pulls back, his hands on my shoulders.

  “My word,” he says, taking in the burns and fading bruises on my face. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, catching the concerned way he glances at Cash.

  “No,” he says. “You’re brave.” He grins, his angled eyes gleaming. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks,” I say. There’s a warm feeling filling me, starting in my chest and spreading outward. It started with Takeshi’s hug, and now it intensifies when we enter the brick room.

  Solomon walks around the table, and I don’t miss the pained look when he sees me. I wish the scars would fade. There are five other Watchers here too, and they all stand straighter when Cash enters.

  “You’re safe,” Solomon says. “Thank God for that.” His hand gently pats my shoulder, then extends to Cash, who shakes it.

  “And you’re right on time,” he continues. “We’ve just come to a decision.”

  “About what?” Cash asks.

  “We’ve decided to put a halt on extracting Workers.”

  I look to each face, all of them meeting my eyes. My mouth falls open, my head shaking. He said it like a good thing. He said it like he assumed I would feel relief. But I don’t understand.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Have a seat, Hannah,” Solomon says, gesturing to a chair. I ignore him.

  “Tell me why,” I say, eyes narrowing. My breaths are fast, my heart too quick. This place, this valley, is toxic.

  Takeshi steps toward me. “Hannah, listen. The Council won’t harm the Workers. They need them, especially now. They’re still trying to run the factories.”

  “He’s right,” Solomon says. “This country relies heavily on trade.” He touches my shoulder. “I promise you, Hannah. They won’t harm the remaining Workers. It would not be in their best interest.”

  I jerk back, out of his reach. “Won’t harm them? How can you say that? That’s all they’ve been doing for a hundred years!”

  Takeshi reaches for me. “Just listen—”

  “No, you listen,” I snap. “They killed my father for trying to protect my mother. Shot him dead because he got in the way. You’ve started a revolution here. If the Workers try to do their part, if they get brave and decide to try, they’ll be alone. You’re leaving them alone!”

  “What led to this decision?” Cash says. I draw in a shaking breath, trying to calm my body. My face heats. Cash is right; I should at least let them explain. I ball my hands into fists to keep from talking.

  Solomon takes a few deep breaths, and I’m sorry for yelling. Stress is drawing lines over his forehead. Whatever led to this, it wasn’t easy.

  “The Southern army is ready to storm in here and take back their people. And rightfully so.” He gives an affirming nod to Takeshi. “Th
ey will gun down any Watcher that stands in their way. Again, I understand the king’s anger. He has every right to free his people by whatever means necessary.”

  He fixes his eyes on me. “Hannah, Edan told me before he died that you were made aware of the threats against Watcher families. That you understand the impossible choice put before them.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, nodding.

  “I need one more chance to try to convince them,” he says, softer this time. “This entire Resistance began with Watchers. I truly believe that we…” He glances at Cash. “…can inspire many of them to desert the Council. If we can do that, Hannah, then we can spare this valley so much bloodshed. But every time we rescue Workers, many people die on both sides.”

  The room is quiet, and everyone is looking at me. I look to Cash, because his face is the one I trust most.

  “After what Jace did,” I say. “Will the Watchers listen?”

  “We have to try,” Cash says quietly.

  There’s a lift in the air when I nod. I feel every exhale. Even though my opinion wouldn’t have changed the decision, they care what I think. Takeshi half-grins and returns my nod. I hold his gaze and don’t look away until I am confident that he knows—until he knows that I have learned who he is. He looks down for a second, exhaling hard. When our eyes meet again, everything is changed. He is the son of my sovereign now.

  9

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I walk with Takeshi along the windy corridor, and our breath fogs in the air. Takeshi walks with his hands folded behind his back. He glances toward the soldiers standing guard, but none are in earshot.

  “It was my father’s idea,” he says quietly. “He felt that there would be many traitors among the Watchers joining the Resistance, and that keeping my title a secret would be safer.” He stops, turning to me.

  “To be honest, I agree. And I don’t really see how my title matters here. If I can blend with the others and join on more equal ground, my presence will be much more effective. As far as they need to know, I am a Southern soldier.”

  “You don’t see how it matters that you’re our prince?”

  “Do you respect me more now that you know?” Takeshi asks, hands in his pockets, head tilted thoughtfully. “Will it change how you respond to me?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not the point. You’re a piece of the world we’re fighting to get to. The world our ancestors lost. Knowing you’re here, helping us…it makes a huge difference.”

  “Why?”

  My eyebrows lift. “Are you serious? Takeshi, it means we aren’t forgotten. It means…I don’t know…it means we’re wanted.”

  “You think I should tell them.”

  “I don’t think you should stand on a box and shout it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Takeshi laughs.

  “But maybe let the rumor grow. I’m not sure if you should go against your father,” I say. “But think about it at least. Let Cash inspire the Watchers. You can inspire the Workers.”

  Takeshi chews his mouth, studying me and considering my words. After several seconds, he says, “Okay.”

  Excitement flutters in my chest. “You mean you’ll do it?”

  “Okay, I’ll think about it,” he says, grinning.

  We continue walking, our boots crunching on leftover glass that stayed after the hall was swept.

  “How did you find out?” I say. “About the Resistance.”

  “Cash,” he says, and my feet stop.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He showed up near our border,” Takeshi says. “He’d slipped across near a large city and kept out of sight until he could make contact. I got a message that he wanted to meet me, and…well the rest is history.”

  “I wouldn’t put it like that,” I say. “Norma says he pledged his allegiance to you.”

  “He tried to.” A laughing breath leaves him. “Like I’d let him. The North will need Cash Gray when this is over.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, and for some reason the revelation stings.

  “Don’t worry,” Takeshi says, a kind smile warming his face. “The North might need Cash, but Cash needs you.”

  My face heats, and I look away.

  “You don’t think so?” he asks. “He left the second he learned you’d been taken. Dropped everything. Ignored anyone who opposed him.”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s right. Even me. I tried to stop him. Said it was a waste of time, but he knocked me out. I lost two teeth in the process.”

  I jerk my face toward him and find his eyes twinkling, full of laughter. I grin.

  “Thanks a lot,” I say.

  “You bet.”

  Walking the halls is difficult. Legs stretch in every direction; there are sleeping bodies lying all over the tile. The Infirmary is ahead, but before I reach it, a voice calls to me. It is small and quiet. I turn to see who it belongs to.

  Sam is standing outside the door to the men’s bathroom. His body is hunched from the cold, and I can see that his weight is falling away again. In the first weeks, he was growing every day. Now that food is scarce, he looks more like the slave child I lifted from the street the night we ran. My heart sinks, but I smile.

  “Sam!” I close the space between us so he doesn’t have to. His arms wrap around my waist, and I draw him close to me.

  “I thought you were dead,” he’s saying. “I heard them talking…saying that the Council took you.”

  When his face lifts, his eyes are wet. The tears don’t fall, and I get the sense he’s trying to be tougher than he feels. His lips quiver, but he presses them tight to try and stop it.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say, kneeling to level our eyes. “I thought about you all the time while I was away.”

  “Is it true?” he asks. “Did they catch you?”

  As he says it, his finger touches my face, running along a burn that is now a thick mound of healing skin. His eyebrows pull in.

  “They did,” I say, taking his hand. “And I learned something while I was their prisoner.”

  Sam’s eyes widen. “You were in prison?”

  I nod. “Wanna know what I found out?”

  He eagerly nods.

  I lean closer and whisper, “They are the same as us. The Council…they’re no different.”

  Sam barely reacts.

  “I know,” he says, his voice quieter than mine. He leans to my ear.

  “Cash told me his secret.”

  I pull back and study his face, trying to decide if I’m understanding him correctly.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. Sam shrugs a shoulder.

  “It’s just that…if Cash’s dad is, you know…”

  I nod.

  “Then the Council must be normal people too, right?”

  I glance at the Workers resting along the walls. If they’re listening, they hide it well.

  “When did he tell you?”

  “Before he left to rescue you.” Sam’s gaze falls, his face angled down. I touch his arm.

  “What’s wrong, Sam?”

  He hesitates. After a moment, he says, “He was really angry. Everyone told him you were already dead.”

  He wraps me in another hug.

  “I’m really glad you’re not.”

  “He’s been crying in his sleep,” a nurse tells me.

  I stroke Ben’s little arm with the tips of my fingers. “But he hasn’t woken up?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  I sigh, watching his chest rise and fall. I still think that he might be better off sleeping. Perhaps he will sleep away this entire war, and it won’t have to haunt his memories. But I also worry that he’s trapped in there. His last waking moment was his father dying, shot down when we ran through the alleys. I fear he’s reliving that moment over and over in his dreams.

  The nurse leaves me alone with Ben in this partitioned corner of the Infirmary. I lift him into my arms, careful with the tube
in his hand. Sitting on a chair near his bed, I hold him against my heart, willing its rhythm to communicate something calmer than the things he’s seeing in his mind.

  “I saw the stars,” I whisper near his ear. “And the sun.”

  His fingers bend, catching on the fabric of my coat. I watch them for a few seconds, wide-eyed and waiting. Maybe it was my voice. Maybe I can draw him out.

  “And I saw a bear,” I say. “It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. It had thick, brown hair. Huge feet. And its nails were sharp and as long as my fingers.”

  “Trying to give him nightmares?”

  Ian stands in the entryway, an eyebrow arched at me.

  “If it helps,” I say. He smiles.

  “So, this is Ben?”

  I look at the child’s face again, seeing the way his eyelids flutter.

  “This is Ben.”

  Ian comes closer and crouches with his back to the wall. His gaze is distant, his thoughts somewhere else.

  “You okay?” I ask. He just nods. After watching him a few seconds, I turn back to Ben and stroke along his hair line.

  “I have a younger brother,” Ian says after a while, drawing my eyes back. “Three years younger than me. He didn’t join the Watcher program like I did. Wanted to be a doctor instead.”

  “Do you ever see him?”

  His head shakes. “Not anymore. He’s studying in a city far from here.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I bite my mouth, feeling like I should say more. Ian rubs his face. His hands linger over his mouth for a moment, then fall so his wrists are on his knees.

  “Do you have any siblings?” he asks. “Any brothers or sisters?”

  “Just me,” I say.

  Ian smiles. “Well, you’ve got Ben now,” he says, nodding once toward the sleeping child in my arms. “You’d do anything for him, right?”

  I look at Ben’s face, at the movement of his eyes beneath the lids. His lips are parted, little breaths escaping in puffs. He is vulnerable, an orphan thanks to the Watchers. We’re the same.

  “Yes,” I say quietly. “I will always protect him.”

  Ian stands, knees cracking. “Then it’s no different,” he says. “He’s your brother now, as much as mine is.” He moves to leave, and when he looks back at me, I give him a small smile.