The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  “The alley!” Cash shouts to me. “Go!”

  He turns back to firing, and I’m walking backward, staring wide-eyed at the white feather behind his ear. Even in the snow, I can hear the lies it screams. But actions are louder, and all the things he does are brave.

  This can’t be a trade. I can’t lose one to save the other. Not again.

  I turn on my heel and run toward the alley. I watch Drew over my shoulder until he sees me and changes his course. My eyes shift back to Cash, and he’s rising, firing three more times, then running after us. We race for the alley, and when we get there, our feet don’t slow.

  21

  The howling wind throws my senses off balance. We race through the stinging snow, and I’m thinking about the Watchers. How many died today? We’re here to recruit them, but how many have we killed?

  It will be you or them, Cash said to me. If you don’t shoot, you will die.

  We turn south, but in the distance are Watchers, and they’re ready for us. Shots ring out, and we’re forced to continue on our path going east. After several minutes, I look over my shoulder, but nothing.

  “Why aren’t they chasing us!” I shout over the wind.

  Cash and Drew slow, then stop. We press our backs to a wall, finding shelter under a fire escape. All our breaths are gulps, and the cold tears down my throat.

  “Something’s wrong,” Cash says, stepping out from beneath the stairs and staring off down the path we ran.

  “We’ve got to get out of this,” Drew calls. “This storm’s too strong!”

  “Nothing’s safe here,” I say.

  “If we can get to the woods,” he says. “There are caves or downed trees we can shelter under.”

  “There’s no way out,” Cash says, returning to the fire escape and crouching. He takes off his coat and works my arms into the sleeves without a word.

  “It’s sealed tight. The door was our only option.”

  Drew rubs his face with both hands, growling.

  “What about these buildings,” he says. “They’re abandoned.”

  “They’ll be scouring these buildings top to bottom,” Cash says.

  For a minute we’re all silent, breathing until our lungs calm. I can feel my body quitting.

  “They know it’s you,” Drew says, breathing into his hands. “That’s why they won’t stop.”

  Cash looks off and nods.

  “Who tipped them off?”

  “Could’ve been anyone,” Cash says. “Any one of those men.”

  We’re hit by a blast of wind and snow, and the shivering is painful. My lower lip trembles, and I grit my teeth trying to stop it. We have to keep moving, or we’ll be just like the Outcasts.

  Walking is harder after sitting. Running is worse. We move somewhere between the two, stumbling forward, refusing the urge to climb through a broken window and rest.

  We take the next street heading south. Like the night Edan found me, the road opens before us. After a while the storm eases back, only a light snow. The flurries spin in the yellow streams of light from street lamps. Our clothes are soaked, and I bear the brunt. I chose to dress as a Worker, and now I suffer for it; all my body is numb. But I’m shivering still, and I remember my father teaching me that shivering is a sign of life. It’s stillness in the freezing cold that poses the greatest threat.

  We don’t stop now that the storm is passing; killing us will be easier without the snow. I lose track of time, but soon I’m recognizing landmarks. I remember them from the first night we ran south.

  “You’re gonna love the ocean,” Drew says, breaking through the silence. His voice shakes from the cold.

  “Tell me it’s warm, and I’ll love it forever,” I say, teeth chattering. Drew laughs.

  “Definitely warmer than this place.”

  I look up at Cash. “Have you been to the ocean?” I ask him. He nods.

  “My mother took me once.” Our eyes meet.

  “Do you remember it?”

  “Only small things. I remember the sky. The last night we were there, it was orange.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “Orange?”

  “The sunsets are the best,” Drew says. “Could use some of that right about now.”

  “With Alice?” I say. This draws his smile to me.

  “Always with Alice,” he says, winking.

  I turn back to the street and smile.

  The lighter the snow falls, the faster our steps become. Cash takes my hand, guiding me through the shadowed places. I watch ahead, waiting to catch a glimpse of the barricade.

  A rumbling sound hits our ears, and we stop. For a few seconds we’re still, straining against the wind to hear it.

  “We’re too exposed here,” Drew says.

  Our pace picks up, a full-on run when the sound grows louder.

  From a nearby street, a large armored vehicle rolls into our path. From another, a dozen Watchers run to flank it.

  “Cash—”

  “Get behind me,” he says. But I don’t. We raise our guns, trying to steady our freezing hands.

  A door of the vehicle swings open, and a figure steps out. He is thin and aged. When he speaks, his voice sends a current of fear through me. I remember it.

  “Cash Gray,” he calls. “I do believe this is your ride.”

  “It’s not going to happen,” Cash says, shifting his feet and adjusting his grip.

  “Enough games,” Sterling says. “I’ve wasted enough time and resources on this little campaign of yours. Time to go.”

  “I will not.”

  “I am your commander!” the old man barks. “You swore an oath to obey me!” Even from here, I see the way his veins bulge.

  Cash steps forward, anger burning in his eyes. “Your oaths are lies!” His head shakes, glaring. Quieter he says, “I didn’t know—I didn’t know what I was signing up to do.”

  “Irrelevant,” Sterling says. He inches forward, and some of his men do too. “I am not responsible for your ignorance. But I am required to return you to your father.”

  “I have no father.” Cash holds his firing position, but steps back slow. Under his breath, he whispers, “The building. Left.”

  “He’ll be disappointed to hear it,” Sterling continues. “He has high hopes for you, you know. A seat on the Council, commander of armies…you really are throwing away your best life.”

  “You have my answer,” Cash says. “This conversation is pointless.”

  Sterling ignores him. “Ms. Hannah Bakker. You’re looking well, considering.”

  I don’t answer him.

  “Don’t be shy. We’ve been through so much, you and I.” He looks at Cash. “She is quite the fighter. Took torture like a true warrior.”

  “Ignore him,” Drew mutters.

  Sterling tilts his head. “Tell me, Ms. Bakker. Did you enjoy your visit down memory lane? You left quite a mess on that tower.” He nods toward Drew. “But clearly you had some help. Another one of my men poisoned by your rebellion, Gray?”

  “Sorry, man!” Drew calls to him. “You can’t take credit for me.”

  “Ah yes. The subtleties of a southern accent,” Sterling says, annoyed. He turns on his heel, marching back to the armored vehicle. Halfway he stops, and over his shoulder says, “Last chance.”

  Cash takes my arm and slowly moves me back, his eyes fixed hard on Sterling and the men who surround us. We inch toward the building. We’re close enough that after only five steps I’m crouched by a dumpster, gun aimed at Sterling.

  “Never again,” Cash says. Sterling nods. For a second he doesn’t move. He stands with his back to us, his head turned to one side.

  When he resumes his march, he says simply, “Open fire.” They’re thrown away words, a careless toss of a match on gas.

  Cash drops to a knee beside the dumpster, and we return fire. Bullets echo off metal and brick. Some of the Watchers fall, while others scatter, finding stairs and trash bins to shield them. Drew runs to a
door two yards down and yanks it open.

  “Go!” Cash shouts.

  We fly through the frame, slamming the heavy door behind us. Bullets embed in its metal.

  “We have to find another exit now!” Cash shouts.

  “Why aren’t they following us?” I say between gasps. We listen to the vehicle pulling away. I press my ear to the door and hear the murmured voices of soldiers and their boots shuffling in the snow. Then a metal on metal scraping. The clanging of chains.

  “Why aren’t they following us…” I ask again, quieter, dread spreading through my body. A slow poison. A draining.

  “They’re going to bury us,” Cash says. “We have to get out. Now.”

  The halls are dark, so we run with our hands sliding along the walls. We trip on toppled things, but we can’t stop. They will blow up this building to kill us. A structure like this is nothing to them. But stopping Cash is everything. We’ll find the exit, but will they be waiting when the door flies open?

  I remember my mother telling me that sometimes death is the best thing. She said it because a woman a few units down had died in her sleep the night before. She wasn’t sick, and her body wasn’t damaged. But her heart gave up, and she never woke. My mother was sad; I could tell by the way she stared off every time my father would mention her. But when I asked about it, Mother didn’t speak of the death as a tragedy. Instead her words were laced in gratitude. The woman was free—somewhere peaceful and safe. Thinking of that night has made me wish for death in the moments it was coming for me. But now, knowing any moment our lives may end, I find I don’t want it. I don’t want to die…I want to live. I have Cash now. And Ben. I want to see Aspen thrive; see the trauma fade and her eyes light up again. Maybe death is easy, but it’s the hard things that matter more.

  I want to live, and that makes the panic worse. My feet run faster. My boot hits something, and I trip, landing hard on my elbows. Pain tears through my arm, but I rise into a run again and keep up.

  We find an exterior door, but it’s locked. Cash checks a nearby window, but quickly hides when he sees soldiers just outside, spilling gasoline along the walls. The fumes seep through the edges of the window.

  “This way,” Drew whispers. We follow him down a cold, wide hallway. The path is clearer but pitch black. We check every room for a broken window or unnoticed door. Finally, at the end, we find a room with a low row of windows all broken. Freezing wind billows our clothes.

  The outside is clear. The windows open to a narrow space between this building and the next. It’s too narrow to walk, but just to the right of the farthest window is a thin, metal ladder attached to the exterior wall.

  “There,” Drew says, pointing at a window ten feet up on the neighboring building. “It’s all we’ve got.”

  “I’ll go first,” Cash says, but Drew stops him.

  “It’s you they want. I’ll make sure it’s clear.”

  Drew climbs onto the windowsill and maneuvers onto the ladder, squeezing his body into the tight space. The ladder creaks under his weight. I hold my breath, watching as he climbs higher, testing each rung with a push of his boot. The wind presses against his body, and he struggles to hold steady. But the ten feet pass quickly, and soon he’s struggling with the window, trying to open it from an unnatural position. He gives up and uses the butt of his rifle to break the glass. With his elbow he clears the remaining pieces and climbs through.

  “You’re next,” Cash says. I step onto the windowsill, and Cash keeps a hand on my waist while I shift my weight onto the rickety ladder. The wind is strong, but fear makes me fast. As I’m reaching my boot to the window, the building we’re leaving shudders and quakes. I grab the window frame with both hands and jump through. Cash is already climbing.

  The building shakes with another blast, and Cash’s foot slips. I scream his name, my arm reaching. He holds tight, but fire is burning in the room below.

  Cash hurries up the final rungs and steps fast through the window. We run to the closest stairs and descend to the lower level. There’s a door at the bottom, but we keep running, searching for an exit far from the scene we left behind. Exhaustion is hitting, and I want to scream to relieve the pressure in my chest.

  Cash grips my hand, and we run together, racing down dark halls with no idea where we’re going. Just away.

  We reach a door, and without thinking Drew slams through. It opens easily, and we’re met by dozens of wide eyes.

  22

  Drew continues running, maybe because looking at them is painful.

  “Come on!” he calls back to us, but I’m stuck in place, staring at the desperate faces of the Outcasts. Most of them are barely conscious; they stare like all that’s left is to close their eyes. After that, all of this will fade to nothing. Cash stands behind me, hands on my arms. He murmurs by my ear that we need to go. Hannah, we can’t stop. I know you don’t want to leave them, but there’s nothing we can do now.

  He’s right, but I don’t say it. If we herd them into the street, they won’t be fast enough, and the Watchers will gun them down. But if they stay, will they burn?

  Drew returns to urge us on, but he’s stopped short. I follow his gaze to a child huddled against the wall. Her back is hunched, her body shivering violently. She stares at us wide-eyed, fully awake.

  Drew steps carefully past the other bodies and crouches in front of her.

  “Are your parents here?” he asks. She shakes her head, lips trembling.

  “We can get you somewhere safe,” Drew says.

  There is no hesitation. Without pause, the little girl raises her arms, reaching. He lifts her from the ground, and as her legs unfold, we see her feet. She wears tattered shoes, but they don’t hide the way her left foot turns inward. This is why she was cast away. Drew holds her close to him, sheltering her from the wind, and her head falls against his shoulder. When he turns to us, his eyes are angry.

  As we leave, I struggle to tear my eyes from the others. My feet move, but I crane my neck to see. How do we keep leaving them this way? Will there be any left to save when the South comes?

  At the corner, we press our backs to the cold brick and peer into the street. We’re father south by a block now, heading in the right direction. But the soldiers still surround the burning building a hundred yards back, and when we step out of this alley, there’s little cover. None of that matters though. We can’t stay where we are.

  “The barricade is only a quarter mile south of here,” Cash says. “We can run it. We’ll get as far as we can without notice first. Stay in the dark.”

  We move slow, easing our way onto the street and walking only in the dark patches and shadows. The snowfall hides us in some ways, blurring faraway sight. But the street lamps reflecting off the blanket of white makes the world brighter than it should be. Only a minute passes before we hear the shouts.

  There’s an alley ahead, only thirty more feet, maybe less. We can take it, then find the next street south to the barricade. But running in this deepening snow makes our movements sloppy. What should take seconds takes too long, and the Watchers are gaining on us.

  Twenty feet.

  Cash holds tight to my hand. My entire arm is on fire from the strain on my bullet wound. I whip around and Drew is a couple yards back, gripping tight to the girl and struggling through the thick snow.

  Ten feet.

  The first shot rings out, and the little girl screams. The sound courses through my body. I spin around, pulling my hand free from Cash’s grip. Drew is on hands and knees, struggling toward the child. Red stains the ground when he rises.

  More guns go off, and we’re ducking for cover.

  “Keep running!” Drew shouts at us. “Don’t stop!”

  He reaches the girl and scoops her into his arms. She’s sobbing, clinging to his bleeding body. Drew runs for the alley but trips, one hand slamming to the snowy earth.

  Cash and I reach the alley and turn, calling to him and returning fire. The gunshots keep us t
rapped, but I’m about to risk it. I would die to save them. I didn’t know before, but now I do. It is only Cash’s grip that keeps me planted.

  Five feet.

  Three more.

  The guns continue to fire on us, and as he’s rounding the corner, Drew collapses. Cash jumps forward, catching the girl before she hits the ground.

  “Drew!” I land on my knees beside him, gripping his shoulders, his arms, feeling his neck. It can’t end this way. Not after all we’ve done tonight—all the close calls we’ve survived.

  Cash says my name, and I must look crazed when I meet his eyes.

  “Take her,” he says in a rush. I jump to my feet and fill my arms with the sobbing girl. Cash hoists Drew onto his shoulders, and we run hard, somehow finding strength in the panic. My eyes flood with tears, and I ache everywhere, my body straining to release all the things I feel.

  It can’t end this way.

  Resistance fighters run at us from all directions. They surround us, running at our sides, protecting us until we reach the barricade. Several hands lift Drew over the pile, then several more are helping me with the girl. We run together toward a truck and scramble onto the bed. The engine roars to life, racing us through the snowy streets toward safety.

  I crawl to Drew and lean over him while Cash keeps a steadying hand on me. Drew is breathing, but every bump makes his body tense.

  “Hang on,” I say, leaning close so he can hear me. “We’re safe now. Just hang on.”

  His eyes open, and tears are cutting to his ears.

  “The girl,” he says. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s here,” I say, nodding to the soldier who holds her. “You saved her, Drew. More than once.”

  “Don’t tell Alice,” he says slowly, a painful grin spreading over his face. “She’ll think I’m bragging.”

  I laugh, my eyes blurring.

  “You’re a hero,” I say. “Brag all you want.”

  When the coat factory comes into view, the relief is physical, rushing over me like warm water. The truck is parked by a set of double doors, and I watch from the bed as Drew is rushed to the Infirmary. A nurse runs forward and takes the girl. Cash jumps down, then offers his hands to me.