The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  “Open it,” I urge, gently bumping her shoulder with mine.

  I don’t watch the pages when she turns them. I watch her eyes, and joy floods into my heart when they light up. The green is so bright.

  “Is this the south?”

  “Yes,” I say, flipping through the pages to find my favorite one.

  “It’s the ocean,” I tell her.

  A laugh erupts from her mouth, and I feel the effect of it deep inside of me. It’s like a rattling, bringing life back.

  A wide smile breaks across my face. Then a laugh, full-hearted and teary.

  “That’s our home,” I say.

  Aspen covers her mouth, her eyes wet. She laughs again, but it turns into crying.

  “It’s all true,” she says. “All the things Solomon said.”

  I nod, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to me.

  “All of it,” I say. “And there’s an army coming. They’re coming to help us.”

  Takeshi and Meli sit against a wall in the hallway, sharing a can of corn. Meli sniffs hard and rubs her nose with her sleeve before plunging the fork to the bottom of the can again and filling her mouth. Takeshi takes the can without a word and fills his spoon. They say nothing when I approach, though Meli glances up to acknowledge me.

  I settle on the floor beside Takeshi, and after another bite, Meli stretches the can across to offer me some. It’s only a few pieces, so I lean my head back and dump the contents into my mouth. I forgot corn was so sweet.

  We all lean our heads to the wall and stare off.

  “How’d it go?” Takeshi asks. I roll my head to the right to glance at him.

  “The meeting, I mean.”

  “We ran out of time,” I say, picking at a boot lace. “But hopefully they got the point.”

  “I’m sure they did.” He nudges me with his shoulder. When I glance over again, he’s smiling.

  Sad eyes.

  “If you and Cash couldn’t convince them, I doubt anyone else would have a shot.”

  “Not sure that makes me feel any better about it. We had all of five minutes.”

  “A lot can happen in five minutes.”

  We fall silent.

  Meli stretches her legs out but has to draw them back when a clump of soldiers passes.

  “Know what I was thinking about earlier?” she asks.

  Takeshi rocks the back of his head against the wall.

  “Bees.”

  My face scrunches, confused. Takeshi lets out a snort. Meli laughs until tears leak from her eyes.

  “He looked like such an idiot,” Meli says between breaths.

  Takeshi’s shoulders bounce. He knocks a tear from his cheek with his knuckle.

  “My father lost it!”

  “I know—” Meli squeaks.

  “Had to reschedule inspection because he couldn’t stop laughing.”

  “How many stings was it? Fifteen?”

  “At least.”

  I get the gist of the story, and grin while they compose themselves. It couldn’t be anyone but Drew. A new sensation bubbles up, filling my chest. It makes a laugh burst from my mouth. I’m grateful I knew him. All the people we’ve lost have changed me in some way. Drew is no exception.

  “He was the best,” Meli says, leaning to the wall again and smiling to herself.

  “Without a doubt,” Takeshi says.

  They share a look, and I wonder if they’re feeling the same thing as me. I wonder if they’re thinking of Alice now. Our expressions fall to sadness again, and we sit together, watching the activity buzzing around us.

  25

  The storm has eased back, and I stand on the rooftop in a clear patch surrounded by snow. My neck is arched, and I stare at the moon. Even the stars are out tonight. Solomon is to my left, talking with Cash, Takeshi…and Bo.

  Bo and Solomon are acquainted, so there is trust already built between them. But after what Ian did, the way I just assumed he was loyal, I’m having trouble trusting anyone fully. Under the right threat, do all good men become traitors?

  “They’re mobilizing within the next forty-eight hours,” Solomon is saying. “We have to hope that the message is spreading. I can’t guarantee any restraint on the South’s part.”

  “What happens to the Outcasts?”

  All the men turn to me when I ask it. I know because I see them from the corner of my eye. But I’m staring off into the night, picturing freezing Outcasts in every building within my line of vision.

  “She’s right,” Cash says. “They’re dying…and fast.”

  Bo rubs his chin. “When you rescued Workers, you first pulled the guards off the towers by drawing them into the streets with explosives, right?”

  Takeshi nods. “It really only worked the first time. After that the Watchers were aware of our intentions.”

  Bo paces and nods. “But couldn’t you do something similar when the South arrives? Coordinate with the army to draw the fight as close to this sector as possible. With limited manpower in the main sectors, you could send groups in to lead the Outcasts to safety. And the remaining Workers as well.”

  Cash is shaking his head. “Most of the Outcasts still alive are crippled or diseased or extremely old. You’d need more than just strong arms. You’d need vehicles to carry them out.”

  “What will the South bring?”

  “Likely more aircraft then ground vehicles,” Takeshi says.

  “And the resistance?”

  “We have limited resources on this side, and our adversaries will be utilizing all of theirs.” Solomon leans to the wall that stretches on the outer edge of the building.

  “I’ll go back,” Bo says. Solomon pushes off the wall to object, but Bo sets a hand on his shoulder. “I’m the only one they aren’t sure about yet. Gray’s defiance is obvious, but with me they only suspect it. I can go back. Rally help among the Watchers.”

  “It’s too much of a risk,” Solomon says. “I need you with us.”

  “Having him on the other side might not be a bad idea,” Takeshi says. “We know the Council has men planted in the resistance. And while we have a few good men scattered around, it might be helpful to have someone like Bo to build momentum before my father storms this valley.”

  “You tell me what you need me to do, and I’m your man,” Bo says.

  Cash leans into the wall beside me, and we share a look. His eyes tell me he isn’t sure about Bo either. But there is nothing to prove he’s disloyal. It is just a feeling. But even as I think it, I realize that my reasons for doubting Bo are unfair. He did nothing suspicious in the moment we encountered him on the mountain. If anything, he proved his loyalty. But as soon as he mentioned his family ties to the Council, I felt uneasy.

  Cash is close enough that our arms touch. His nearness is familiar now, the one constant in all of this. But I’m failing him. How can I doubt Bo and trust Cash in the same breath? They are the same.

  I lean to the wall next to him, and my eyes sting when a gust of wind hits us.

  Solomon is quiet. All the men lean to the wall alongside us, and we stare off toward the darkened streets. All around, soldiers pace the perimeter, keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding areas. For this moment, everything is quiet. It feels like a deep breath. I close my eyes and try to stay in it.

  A blast fills the air, and my eyes fly open to fire and screams in the distance. Then another blast, just to the left of the first. I stop breathing and watch as explosion after explosion ignites, until a long, burning line cuts across the landscape.

  At first we’re frozen, drawn in by the horror of it. Alarms are sounding off in my head. But my body is numb, and I can’t move. My heart pounds and my lungs burn, but I can’t remember how to make them feel better.

  Breathe. Need air.

  I suck in a sharp breath, and we launch ourselves toward the door.

  Sirens fill the night sky. Downstairs, all the rebels are assembling, grabbing their guns and racing outside.

/>   “The barricade!” they shout. “It’s gone!”

  “They’re coming!” someone screams.

  I catch sight of Sam standing wide-eyed against a wall. He doesn’t cry, but his body shakes as he watches the chaos. I run to him and drop to a knee.

  “It’s okay, Sam. Look at me. Get back to your mattress, okay? Protect your brother and sister.”

  He nods but doesn’t move. His eyes shift back and forth, taking in all the panic.

  “You have to go now, Sam! Run to them! Stay in the sleeping room.”

  I don’t want to add to his fear, but I won’t lie. And Sam is clever enough to know that this danger is real. Before he runs, I grab his arm, force eye-contact, and say, “You can do this. I know you can. You’re the bravest boy I’ve ever met.”

  His face transforms. His eyes steel. His lips tighten, and his little hands ball into fists.

  “Run,” I whisper.

  He is changed when he leaves me, but it may not last.

  I run outside, joining the crowd of rebels racing toward the barricade.

  The muscles in my legs burn, but I pump them hard to keep up with the others. We race through the freezing wind, slipping over mounds of dirty snow. The scent of smoke burns my nose. We’re halfway there when we’re stopped in our tracks by a line of rebel soldiers running toward us from the direction of the barricade.

  “They’ve broken through!” they shout, waving their arms for us to turn back.

  “Get back! Defend the factory!”

  My boots slide on the slick street, and I stumble, whipping my body around. Takeshi appears at my side, and we run together through the alleys, dragging each other off the ground when one of us slips. When the factory comes into view, Takeshi grabs my arm.

  He leans close and says breathless, “Tell Solomon I’m following my plan. He’ll know what I mean.”

  He pushes me toward the factory and starts west, grabbing soldiers by their coats and shouting orders.

  I sprint to the factory, waiting to fall. Waiting for the bullet that will take me out of this sick game. A woman is holding a door open for me, but I yell at her to close it. Instead I duck behind a dumpster with three other soldiers, and we wait.

  26

  My firing hand is shaking. I grit my teeth and breathe slow through my nose, trying to calm my body. I can’t stop the trembling, but my mind is sharp. We watch the dark alleys, our weapons ready.

  I glance to my left and see a long line of rebels surrounding the factory. I look right and see the same. The wind kicks up—freezing. Engines growl in the distance. We can hear the slow roll of tires, and my skin crawls to be safe somewhere else. They are coming.

  The soldiers several yards down are shifting, and my eyes catch on Ian. He sees me too, and I look away. They’ve freed him, which means Cash spoke up in his defense. I know I should follow Cash’s lead, but I’m having trouble deciding how I feel. Ian looks out of place now beside rebel soldiers.

  The rumbling of tires grows louder, then stops. The air stills, and all our eyes scan the surrounding streets.

  “Take cover!” someone shouts. The wall to our right explodes, sending fragments of brick flying. The soldier beside me throws his body over mine.

  We’re surrounded by a cloud of dust when we grab our guns and drag ourselves out of the rubble. Cuts sting on my skin, and my ears are ringing. It’s all I can hear. A hand grips my bandaged arm, and I gasp at the pain. Ian is pulling me, hauling me toward cover. Bullets cut through the air, and I duck my head as we run.

  The soldiers around us are shouting things to each other. Their mouths are moving, eyes wild and fierce. They point toward a massive armored vehicle now parked in the intersection facing us. It’s huge, with a long barrel protruding from its front. Slowly my hearing returns.

  “The tank!” they’re shouting. “Take it out!”

  “Shut it down!” someone yells.

  We fire at the tank, but all our bullets ricochet off the outer shell. I watch wide-eyed as the long gun barrel turns. We’re scattering, diving out of its path. The blast hits, and it’s deafening. The wall behind our hiding place is blown away.

  There are no Watchers on the ground, only this tank. It doesn’t make sense. The Council has the power to wipe us away, but they take their time, prying small pieces of our courage. Heat pours through my blood, and I fire again at the tank. It does nothing, but I don’t care. It isn’t strategy that has me shooting. Only anger. Every shot sends currents of pain through my arms. I grip harder, setting my jaw.

  The longer we do this, the stranger it feels. Others are thinking it too; I can see the looks they throw each other. Confusion. Frustration. This feels like wasted energy.

  When the tank turns away from us, firing at the wall farther down, I scramble over the debris and climb through the hole into the factory. Ian follows.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, running at my side. We race down the empty halls, our wet boots slipping on the linoleum.

  “The roof,” I say without looking at him. “I need to see.”

  I take the stairs two at a time, my hand on the rail to haul my weight up. I am heavy with fear, but something is off. Where are the soldiers gunning us down? Where are the thousands who flew over the mountain in helicopters? I need to see them—see the rest that are coming.

  The stairs tremor when another blast hits. We reach the top and yank open the door to the roof. Soldiers are leaning over the wall, taking aim at the street below. I race to peer over. Another tank, but no foot soldiers. It fires, and everything shakes.

  Ian points toward the distant streets, as far back as the burning barricade. There is no army—none that we can see.

  “Stop firing! Do not fire!”

  It’s Cash. He’s running along the rooftop, ordering all the guns to stop. Solomon runs a step behind.

  “Save your ammunition!” Solomon shouts. “Don’t let them drain our resources!”

  The soldiers on the roof pull back, but we can still hear the guns firing below, a steady popping…wasted bullets.

  “There were soldiers,” a rebel says beside me. We stare off at the smoke in the distance. “They pushed us back. Where’d they go?”

  “They could be anywhere,” another says. “Hiding in the buildings. Planted all over this sector.”

  “There,” someone close by whispers. He’s pointing toward the nearest tank. Dark figures creep closer to it. They are rebels, inching toward the metal beast.

  “Takeshi,” I say under my breath, remembering. I run to Solomon.

  “Takeshi,” I say again. “He said to tell you he’s following his plan. He said you’d know.”

  His eyes widen, and he hurries to the wall. Cash does too, but I see the concerned way he looks me over before his feet move. I glance down, and I’m covered in dust, my clothes torn from the debris. I wipe a stinging on my face with the back of my hand and see blood when I pull it back. I join the others at the wall, standing in an open place between Cash and Ian.

  Solomon reaches toward a soldier at his left, and the man hands his rifle over without a thought. Solomon kneels, propping the weapon and peering through its scope. We watch as Takeshi’s men approach the tank.

  “Weapons ready,” Cash says. “Keep their path clear.”

  But there is no one. There are no Watchers trying to stop them.

  The rebels below are still firing. Cash leans over the wall and shouts, “Cease fire! Pull back!”

  His head is shaking, his eyes angry.

  “He’s draining us,” he says. “Many of these soldiers were Workers, and fear will make them panic. Panic will drain our guns.”

  Rage boils in his eyes. There is a panel of five leaders making up the Council, but somehow Titus makes the others pale by comparison. Cash presses his hands to the wall and glares, his gaze glued to the tank.

  A second later he straightens, his whole body stiff. He lurches forward, so far I think he’ll tumble over the edge. I jump toward him and grab
the back of his coat. He waves his arm and shouts, “Get back! It’s a trap! Fall back!”

  The tank starts rolling, moving slow toward the soldiers lining the building. Fear ignites like fire in my blood.

  Cash grabs Solomon, staring hard so he is understood.

  “It’s empty,” he’s saying. “They’re controlling it at their base.”

  Two seconds tick, then Solomon glares.

  “They’re going to self-destruct,” he says.

  Silence. Five seconds of stillness…processing.

  Then we run.

  I can hear Solomon shouting, screaming at his soldiers to get back, to stop firing, to get out.

  We barrel down the stairs, all our bodies rigid, anticipating the blast. Some race to try and warn the soldiers outside, but the rest of us head straight for the sleeping rooms deep in the heart of the factory.

  When a door is flung open, I see all their eyes, all their faces…and I know we can’t get them out. They will stampede the halls, congesting the space…and no one will make it through a single door.

  “Get down!” we shout. "Cover your heads!”

  Soldiers pour into the room, huddling over children and frightened mothers. Some of these rebels are their sons and daughters and fathers. Families grab one another, hiding beneath mattresses and blankets, but it isn’t enough.

  In a corner, a nurse holds Ben. She turns her body to protect him. On the other side of the room is Sam with tears streaming over his cheeks, huddled with his siblings, their little bodies drawn against his sides. I run to them, scrambling past frightened people, tripping over legs.

  The building quakes, and I fall, my hands slamming into the wall above Sam’s head. I grab the littlest, a girl, and wrap my body around her. Cash races to the boys and drops to the floor, scooping them into his arms. We turn inward, creating a shield. The second explosion rattles deep…to my bones. The children we hold are whimpering, but nothing like the screaming filling the air around us. I want to scream with them; to let out some of the stored-up grief. I squeeze my eyes shut when a third blast shakes the walls, sending ceiling tiles falling to the crowded floor.