The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  Drew purses his lips and looks away.

  “I mean it,” I say. “Drew, there was nothing you could do. We were outnumbered.”

  “Maybe,” he mumbles. Then he glances at me. “Still trying to get used to this place.”

  “Don’t try too hard. You’ll be home soon,” I say, touching his shoulder.

  I turn to look out the window, but the movement brings a burst of deep pain in my arm. I grab at it, trying to twist and see.

  “What is it?” Drew whispers.

  “I’m cut,” I say. “Probably the glass.”

  “Let me see.”

  I turn so he can look, but it’s dark in here. There are no street lights outside, and the moonlight barely touches the alley. I pull at the fabric, looking for a tear, and gasp when I feel the gnawing pain again. Drew leans close to see, his hands prying at the torn sleeve.

  “You’ve been shot,” he says. “Take this off.”

  Taking my coat off is difficult now that I’m feeling the pain. Drew helps me, and we find my sleeves blood-soaked. He pulls a knife from a sheath on his belt and cuts away the fabric above the wound. I’m shaking because I’ve never been shot before. I didn’t even feel it go in. The cold wind hits my exposed skin, raising stinging bumps all over my body.

  “Looks like it grazed you,” Drew says. “Pretty deep though. We need to wrap it.”

  I grit my teeth against the pain and lift my top shirt.

  “Tear this,” I say.

  Drew rips the bottom eight inches and wraps it several times around the wound before tying it tight. Nausea creeps up my throat, and I swallow several times to keep it down. We work my coat back on.

  “You’re lucky,” Drew says. “If you’re gonna get shot, that’s the way to do it.” He throws me a half-hearted grin. I roll my eyes and return it.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Makes me feel better.”

  He laughs quietly, and we both turn to check the alley. The sirens are still wailing.

  “It’s clear,” Drew says. “But let’s check the door. Might be able to unlock it from the inside.”

  He gets no more than three steps before I hear him trip and grunt.

  “You okay?” I whisper. No answer. I see his dark form moving, so I know he heard me. “Drew?”

  “They’re everywhere,” he whispers.

  “What is?”

  “People,” he says. Fear blooms in my chest.

  I inch forward, my fingers reaching. My boot bumps something, and I drop my hands and crouch, feeling the space around me. My fingertips brush over something soft, and I yank them back. Barely breathing, I reach my fingers out again, and this time I don’t pull away when they smooth over a shoulder. A head of hair. A face. Anger boils hot behind my eyes.

  “Who are they?” Drew asks quietly. “They’re all dead.”

  My eyes close. Dead. They’re all dead, because we couldn’t reach them in time. They died without knowing there was an end in sight.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely a breath. “I’m sorry,” I say to the woman dead on my left. I say it again to a child beside her. They are all cold and lifeless, and we couldn’t save them. Not this time.

  I stand and look around until my eyes are adjusted. A dozen bodies lie along the walls, huddled together.

  “Hannah, who are they?” Drew demands.

  “They’re the Outcasts,” I say to him. “This is what happens when the Council finds you useless.”

  Drew stares at me. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t have to. The thing I can’t decide is if these Outcasts were luckier than the others. They found shelter, but wouldn’t it just slow the process of dying? They might have been better off in the street, where the wind and the wet would take them sooner. But we always have to try, and that’s what they did.

  Drew is stepping over bodies, checking every neck for a pulse. Occasionally he mutters come on, but in the end, no one is alive.

  “We have to get to the meeting,” I say, unable to stand in this room anymore. If they were alive, even one, I would do everything I could to help them. But their hearts are silent, and I don’t want to be here. I find the wall, then the door. I unlock it, inch it open, and the alley is quiet.

  Drew follows me out, and we start in the direction we think is right.

  We don’t talk.

  20

  We reach the door Cash told us about, and Drew is still silent. I peek up at his face, but his expression is stony.

  Some Watchers pace the alley outside the door, and we approach slow. When they see us, one of the men hurries inside. The other walks toward us. My insides knot, nervous that we’ve found trouble again. But this man has kind eyes.

  “You’re late,” he says. “Gray left a while ago to find you. Come on.”

  Drew says nothing, so I offer a thank you when the soldier holds the door for us to walk through. It’s quickly closed behind us. We step into a dark room—long and lined with shelving. A storage.

  “I’m Blake,” the man says. “We’re out of time. We need to disperse this as soon as possible. What happened?”

  “We ran into a problem,” I say.

  “Hence the sirens,” he replies. He dips his head toward a door farther in. “This way.”

  We enter a wide-open warehouse. Only the emergency lights are on, so the space is dim. There are fifteen or twenty Watchers gathered near the door, waiting. They sit in clumps or stand against the walls, talking in low murmurs. When we enter, all the hushed chatter stops. The men sitting rise to their feet. They amble closer, expecting this meeting to begin. I can tell by their faces that many of them aren’t convinced by the resistance yet. If they turn on us, we won’t escape.

  “What now?” Drew murmurs to me, eyes surveying the crowd.

  “I don’t know,” I say. I look up at him, and his eyes are still angry.

  Blake watches me expectantly.

  “We should wait for Cash,” I say.

  “No time.” He gestures toward the crowd of soldiers. “This can’t go longer than another five minutes.”

  I nod and swallow, trying to wet my throat. My heartbeat is throbbing in my arm. I glance at Drew, but he’s looking at me. I push out a slow breath and turn to the soldiers.

  This is why I came, I remind myself. But I doubt they were expecting someone like me.

  You can’t stop. Edan said to me once. Remember what we talked about?

  Right now I don’t remember. I remember nothing. They’re all staring.

  I clear my throat and say, “We need your help. This—all of this needs to end.”

  Too quiet. Too shaky. I’m scrambling for words, trying to decide what the right thing is. Images flash in my memory: the Outcasts…their hunched-over bodies, frozen and lifeless. My mother fighting the Watcher who killed her. And Tom bleeding out on the snow after the barricade exploded. Then there’s Titus, grinning over me while my life was drained. My blood warms. I’m shaking, but not because I’m cold. And I’m not afraid anymore. It all feels significant; every chance we get to change a heart is another chance to end this insanity. I have to make them listen.

  “We all live in this hell together. You and me…we’re all slaves in this. I look at you,” I say, clenching my fists against the nervous energy rushing through me. “And I see everything I was ever taught to fear. Before now, I would look at you and see killers. And thieves. And cruel men. Because they trained me to, just like you were trained to see me as nothing. Maybe you look at me, and all you see is a worthless slave.”

  My heart pounds. Drew nods at me to go on.

  “But I’m changed now,” I say. My gaze lowers to the floor, remembering. “A Watcher led me to the Southern edge. He took care of me. He died saving his friend. And another one—another Watcher saved me when Titus Gray was killing me. I was dying. And he rescued me.” My eyes lift. “And you know about Cash Gray. I know you do, or many of you wouldn’t be here tonight. He defies his own father and his own right to a Council seat. He defies this entire s
ystem, and he won’t stop until it ends.”

  “Your resistance sent men to attack our barracks!” someone shouts. “What do you say to that?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but instead hear, “They were a rogue group, and in no way represent the resistance.”

  My heart leaps. I turn fast, and there is Cash. He closes the space between us, his eyes scanning me. The air around me fills with him, and for a few seconds it is just us.

  “I lost you,” he says to me quietly. I shake my head.

  “You didn’t.”

  He’s breathing down the fear, trying to push back all the panic he was feeling. When we turn to the soldiers, my eyes are wet and burning. Some of them give us strange looks. Cash continues.

  “The men who attacked you took matters into their own hands. They acted selfishly, and they had no support from us.”

  “So you say. And what about our families? Who protects them while we’re fighting the Council’s forces?”

  “You are the Council’s forces!” Drew calls to them. “Don’t you see that? If you walk away from them, refuse to fight for them, they have no strength.”

  “Even if we did,” a soldier shouts back. “Even if every man in this room joined you today, it wouldn’t be enough. You’re talking about thousands of soldiers.”

  “You’re right,” Cash says. “You can’t go south with us tonight. You have to stay and convince them. One by one.”

  “It’s pointless,” someone mutters.

  “If you don’t try,” I snap back. “Then you’re right. Nothing will change. But you’ll die knowing you chose to do nothing.”

  “Who says we’ll die? You think your tiny rebellion can take us?”

  Cash steps forward. “The forces gathering to destroy this system will wipe out anyone who gets in their way. Listen to me! We don’t want any of you to die. But if you do die, die because you’re brave. Because you said no to evil. Stop killing for cowards who hide behind masks.”

  A long stretch of silence follows. We wait in the tension, all our hopes balancing on a ledge.

  “How long do we have?” someone asks.

  “Days,” Cash says. “Maybe less.”

  “Not enough time.” Another man steps forward, his hardened face glowing in the dim lighting. “I don’t know what kind of forces you have gathering, but I promise you, they’re no match for what the Council is capable of doing.”

  “You don’t know that,” Drew responds, matching the man’s step. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

  “Maybe,” the man says, glaring, unconvinced. “But the Council acts without principle. Without a moral guide. You can’t win against leaders with no conscience.”

  “And you?” Cash says. “Do you have a conscience?”

  The man stands motionless, no emotion registering on his face. Then he says, “I don’t know.”

  He glares at Cash, challenging him. The man is heartless by all appearances, but the muscles in his face twitch. It isn’t easy holding an expression you don’t mean. Cash steps toward him, stopping a yard away.

  “Tyrants are only as strong as the men who follow them,” Cash says. He speaks in a low voice, but the power of it spreads like a fire. “You hold the power to disarm them. Every soldier they lose diminishes their strength.”

  He turns, walking back to my side and speaking louder. “But every soldier they keep is another man you have to kill to gain freedom. Men you know—men you trained with. You have days to convince as many as possible. Hours. We came as a warning: this valley will fall. But you don’t have to fall with it.”

  The soldiers turn to one another, debating. Drew is drawn into a conversation, and Cash turns to me.

  “What happened?” he asks quietly.

  “I was taken. The man returned me to my old unit. Drew followed, but we had trouble getting out.”

  Cash nods but doesn’t relax.

  “I’m okay,” I say to him, gripping his forearm. “You didn’t lose me. And none of this is your fault.”

  “I could have made you stay,” he says. Then he smiles, because he knows that’s not true. I think I’ve finally convinced him, until he touches my arm. I gasp at the pain, and his eyes darken.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It isn’t bad,” I say.

  “You were shot.”

  I shake my head. “Just a graze.” But I’m sweating now, because the pain is blinding. Tears spring to my eyes, but I grit my teeth until it fades.

  “Let me see,” Cash says.

  “No. Not here.” I don’t want them to see me weak.

  The muscles in his jaw tense, but he doesn’t pressure me more.

  Blake calls for attention.

  “Times up!” he says. “Get back to your posts.”

  In a hurry the soldiers are leaving through separate doors, and a desperate feeling wells up in me. Maybe nothing we said made a difference. They’re gone before we get a chance to say anything else, and we’re left standing in the dim room…hoping.

  “That’s it?” I say. “That was our only chance?”

  Drew rubs the back of his neck. “It’s my fault,” he says. His head shakes, and he glares off. “If you hadn’t been taken—”

  “What else were you going to do?” I say, tugging his arm to make him look at me. “You saved my life more than once getting us off that tower. Stop apologizing for it.”

  His head shakes again. There’s a pent up look about him. I wish Meli was here to talk him down. Maybe she’s seen this side of him before.

  “What is it, Drew?” I ask, a little gentler.

  His eyes are distant. “They were all dead,” he says. His hands curl into fists at his sides. “All of them. Not one breathing.”

  Cash’s eyes question. Drew starts toward the door.

  “There was an abandoned building,” I say quietly, glancing at Drew’s retreating form. “We took shelter there. It was full of Outcasts.”

  Cash is quiet, absorbing my words. I feel each new experience pressing down, and soon the pressure will be too much. How many deaths can I take? How much longer until the wickedness pushes us over the edge?

  “You guys have to get out of here,” Blake says, reentering the large room. “Take the same route back. You should make it before the guard change at the gate.”

  In the alley, the sky has clouded over again, and snow is falling heavy.

  “We stay together,” Cash says.

  The sirens have stopped. But the Watchers in this area will be on high alert. We move toward the end of the alley, and Cash checks the next street.

  “It’s clear,” he says, but he sounds uneasy. I lean past him to see.

  “Do we take it?”

  “Maybe they’ve spread out,” Drew whispers. “Looking for us.”

  “It’s possible,” Cash murmurs, checking again. “Take it slow.”

  We keep to the walls and darker corners, inching our way toward the fence five blocks down. After the first block, we see Outcasts. Many are still alert, their eyes open, bodies trembling. My arms strain to take them. I connect with their eyes; they need to know that we see them. Maybe it’ll help if they know they aren’t forgotten.

  Two blocks, and still no Watchers.

  “Gun,” Cash whispers to me.

  “They’ll know—”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he says. His eyes shift, his gaze moving over the empty street. I pull the gun from my back and turn off the safety with a slow push of my thumb. Anxiety bubbles into my chest. I have killed men today; taken lives that matter somewhere…to someone. We continue along the walls, and my eyes burn. I want to be done with this.

  The wind kicks up, blowing freezing snow in our faces. The cold burns on my skin, seeping deep to my bones. Cash reaches an arm back for me to take when all that surrounds us is white.

  We’re passing the third block when a voice carries on the wind, shouting something I don’t understand. We stop, twisting around to see. Black figures run toward us, and
in the moment they pass under a street lamp, we see their raised guns.

  “Get to the fence!” Drew shouts behind us. He shoves me toward Cash, then turns. He kneels behind a dumpster and fires at the Watchers.

  “Drew!” I shout, but the yards are stretching between us, and in this snow and with the sounds of guns echoing off high walls, I doubt he can hear me.

  We run, but the snow makes us clumsy. I catch glimpses of the fence, stretching in a long line, blocking our path. We reach the last block, but instead of sprinting to the fence, Cash turns a sharp corner, pulling me into an alley.

  “The door!” I shout. His head shakes, checking his watch.

  “The guards have changed.” My eyes go wide.

  “Drew! He won’t know—” I yank my hand free and stop.

  “We can’t leave him,” I say.

  Cash stands a yard away, breathing heavy while snow fills the air around us.

  “He’ll find his way,” he says. But I know he’s just trying to say something. Trying to get me to run.

  “He’s not from here.” I shake my head. My lips tremble, too cold. Too tired. My body wasn’t ready for this. “He won’t. You know he won’t.”

  Cash wipes snow from his face. His cheeks are red, bitten by the freezing wet. Thick clouds pour from his mouth.

  “We can’t leave him,” I say again, my eyes pleading.

  Cash nods, and after a pause, says “Come on.” He presses his lips tight, his eyes hard, but he keeps nodding. In two steps he’s reached me, and as we turn, his eyes hold mine.

  “You’re right,” he says. “No one gets left.”

  We run back toward the open street, fighting against the heavy gusts. Around the corner, we stay with the wall. It blocks some of the wind and allows us to hear the shots. Guns are still firing, which means Drew is still alive; still fighting the Watchers on his own.

  “There!” I shout, grabbing Cash’s coat and pointing. Drew runs into view, full speed toward the fence. He turns, firing at the soldiers running after him. But this snow makes shooting hard, and no one is hitting their mark. Cash rushes to a snow drift and takes a knee. He holsters his hand gun and swings his rifle to position. I crouch beside him, and we fire into the crowd of oncoming Watchers. Drew hears our shots, and his head turns, searching.