Enthralled by the incredible sight in fronta me, I don't even notice where we’re headed 'til I feel the wagon take a sudden dip as the road drops and disappears into a wide, yawning tunnel of black. I can feel the day's heat fade instantly as we enter the cold, damp darkness.
"Tater?" I say anxiously from the back of the cart.
He answers in a quiet voice, "This is normal; don’t worry. This is just an underground tunnel, and it’s the only way to enter and exit the city since it is totally surrounded by that wall and guarded by the Army day and night. Though whether they are trying to keep people out or keep people in, I have yet to ascertain. Now remember what Mack has told you both. Keep your hoods up, do not speak, and do not draw attention to yourselves."
I nod, but I cain't help the cold knot of fear growing in my belly. What if the guards didn't fall for our ruse? I’d asked Mack why we couldn't ride in the crawlspace again, just like Cat, and sneak into the city. To me it made perfect sense, and it had worked well before in getting us outta Littlepass. But he said our presence here had to be made known with the guards. The reason he’d given for leaving Skytown was visiting his kin in the south, so to bring us back with him as those same kin made perfect sense. If we’re to stay with him, we have to be accounted for. Although he trusted his own people immensely, Mack was an important man in Skytown and had soldiers coming and going at all times. He couldn't keep us hidden indefinitely, he’d said, so announcing us as his visiting kin would not raise any suspicion if we should be spotted at his home. Made sense, he’d said. Well, maybe to him but to me it meant a much better chance of us getting caught. I don't like the plan.
Jax rides by me in the ascending gloom, and all I can see are his eyes as the rest of his face is covered by his wrapper. He winks at me and then takes his position alongside Beanie and Talbert, riding behind my cart like house servants would normally do. If Finn and I are to be Mack's kin, then those three are to be our servants. That’s part of the plan. I wonder to myself how wealthy Mack is if riding with servants is expected of him, but I don't ask.
We enter the inky blackness and I can feel Finn move closer to me in the dark, but he don't pepper me with a hundred questions like he normally woulda done. Ever since he’d awoken from his unconscious state, he’d been subdued, though whether it’s 'cause of the poisons still in his system or by the fright of what happened being too much for him to handle, I cain’t rightly say. He says he don't remember much of what happened, but over the past couple of days, I’ve caught him watching the grasses with a wariness that ain't been there before. Cat ain't left his side neither, making it difficult to clean her wounds properly, but from what I can see nuthin' ain't infected, so I ain't too worried. She don't wanna take her eyes offa the boy. I feel the same 'bout him, so when I feel him touching my arm, I just put it around him and pull him closer. I feel him relax into my side.
He may be a little quiet, but at least he’s still acting normal around me. Jax and Tater, too. I reckon since they’ve already seen me raise a dust devil, healing a poison sting ain't all that impressive. But things have changed with the others. I ain't told Finn what I did, and as far as I know none of the others have either, but I'm sure he's gotta notice the way they act towards me now. Gone is the ribbing and good-natured teasing. Instead, they’re reserved and standoffish like they now fear me. Even Mack has changed his attitude towards me somewhat, though I know he's trying to hide it. I don't understand. They should be used to New Bloods. Nuthin' about me should surprise any of 'em. Why are they treating me this way? I’d tried to question Tater about it, but all he keeps saying is I don't realize how unique I am. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m still just Tara. I don't get why they cain't see that.
We don't get far in the dank, stagnant hole when suddenly lights appear on either side of us on the tunnel walls. The same kinda strange lights I’d seen in Sanctuary, like torches without the flame. "Electric lights" Tater had informed me. Settler technology. He’d tried to explain to me how they worked, but even after all his explainin,’ they’re still a mystery to me. I don’t care how they work; they’re a welcome relief against the suffocating darkness. Strangely enough, they seem to only light up as we approach 'em, like our very presence is causing 'em to come to life. Their low hum follows us through the wide-spaced tunnel, the only sound other than the horses and the creaking wagons. Tater's warning echoes in my head, and I truly hope my pounding heart don't give us away.
After what seems like an eternity in this underground entry, I can feel the ground start to rise again, and I reckon we must be approaching the end. Two tall metal doors loom up outta the gloom, and we slow to a stop. More lights come on so bright that I have to squint to see. Mack alights from the front wagon and walks straight up to the doors, though I ain't got no idea how he’s to open 'em. There ain't no handle or knocker that I can see. He walks off to the side to a little black box mounted on one of 'em, and unbelievably, it starts to talk to him.
"Identification," it says in a tinny voice, and Mack don't seem the least bit surprised by it.
"Captain MacKenzie and the Prezedant's caravan," he says, and I start at his words. Captain? As in Army captain? Lily had told me that Mack was a Prezedant elite, but I ain't expected him to be so high-ranking. Thoughts of Tater and his fake betrayal cross my mind, and I cain't help but feel unease at the predicament we’re in right now. Is this going to turn out the same? What the hell am I doing walking straight into the Prezedant's reach? I fight the urge to jump outta the cart and run away. Instead, I squeeze Finn a little tighter, causing him to squirm and mutter, "Ow," at me.
Mack's words are followed by a moment of silence before the metal doors start moving with a gut-deep, grinding noise, like the old gears are protesting any sort of movement. They open just wide enough for a couple of soldiers to squeeze through, and Mack faces 'em calmly, giving no indication of any of the unease that’s swirling inside of me right now. They speak briefly, and I strain to hear. What are they talking about? Is he ratting me out? Then more soldiers file out of the opening and start circling the wagons. I reckon even with a man as important as Mack, they don't wanna be taking any chances. They start looking through the wagons, and I hold my breath, praying for Cat to remain silent. The soldier Mack had been talking to approaches the tow cart and studies me and Finn so intently I'm sure he must hear my pounding heart. I ain't sure what Mack has told him, and I resist the urge to pull my hood down further to hide my face. Instead, I look up at him with the most innocent expression I can muster. He’s young, fresh-faced and kinda nice looking in a way. I find it hard to understand that the young man standing in fronta me and my enemy are one and the same. He gives me an unexpected smile.
"The captain informs me that this is your first visit to Skytown. Welcome. Any family of the captain is a friend of the Army. Enjoy your visit," he says cordially.
"Thank you," I say. It comes out as a squeak.
He nods at me and then yells out over his shoulder, "Open the doors!"
One minute we’re being studied by the guards and the next, we’re past the gates and into Skytown. It happens so quickly I cain't quite process the fact that we’d actually done it. We’ve made our way inside and not been caught. Shizen, I cain't quite believe it’s this easy.
The towering buildings are just as intimidating up close as seen from the outside. It's like riding through some huge, metal forest. They loom above us, blocking out any trace of the sun. But now I can see that they ain't the iron perfection I’d thought 'em to be. These ain't nuthin' more than ruins themselves, crumbling away with walls half gone and patched together with planks and tarps and sheets of tin. Gigantic shanties really. Gaping holes where glass once sat, stare out at us like empty eye sockets. Burnt out husks of "veacals" litter the broken roads painted with bizarre symbols and lettering. Old signs hang off the side of another building, one somehow still intact, and its message flashes red at us with some unknown light source, “Girls! Girls! Girls!”
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I don't need Jax to tell me what that means. It has ill house written all over it. Although from overhearing the excited conversations of the men these past few days, I think brothel is the more common word.
But it ain't the buildings or relics that scare me as much as the inhabitants of Skytown. Whereas the people of Littlepass had paid us no heed and had gone on with their everyday trade, the people here watch our arrival closely with hate-filled eyes. I feel their malevolence as they stare at our progression. They’re everywhere: lining the roads, hanging from broken windows, and gazing at us through the crumbling walls. There’s no trading or bartering or falsely cheerful atmosphere like we’d seen in Littlepass. These souls ain't doing nuthin', only taking up space. Just existing. Desperate, hopeless dregs of humanity. Their angry eyes condemn us and covet the wagons for I'm sure they know what cargo we carry and where it’s headed. Their gaunt frames and faces tell me that the bounty we transport will in no way find its way to them, and their desperation shows. It scares me something fierce and I hate to admit it, but I'm actually grateful for the soldiers' presence I see scattered about in the otherwise sea of filth clustered under the flashing Girls sign.
An old woman stands almost in the middle of the road, watching us approach. She is dressed in nuthin' but rags, and her dirty face and hair tell me that bathing ain't high on her list of priorities. She’s munching on something, cain't quite tell what it used to be, but now it’s just a black, rotten thing in her hand. I catch her eye, and she stares at me with a dark, piercing look. I smile at her, but I cain't say why. Maybe I'm trying to say I ain't associated with the Prezedant like she’s obviously thinking. Maybe to say that I understand her suffering. She don't take my meaning. Before I can duck, the rotten food comes flying at me and splatters my fancy cloak and the side of my face with a nauseating stench. She grins at me then, this satisfied, half-mad grin. She’s still smiling even as two soldiers rush her and knock her to the ground with the butts of their iron shooters. They smash her again and again with way more force than necessary, and I start to jump to my feet to scream at 'em.
"Don't," Jax growls at me as he quickly pulls abreast of the cart, and I pause midway.
"But they’re beatin' her," I hiss quietly, my anger controlling me.
"Think, girl," he answers back.
He's right. I cain't draw attention to us. Any kin of Captain MacKenzie certainly wouldn’t protest the beating of their attacker. I sit back down slowly, avert my eyes, and listen to the sounds of the beating fade away, anger simmering in my blood.
I don't know how long we ride through the squalor, how many empty, hopeless faces we pass. I don't even wanna look anymore. I don't wanna see the hungry eyes.
“Who are these people? How can they be like this in a land that has so much?” I question Tater.
"Not everyone lives the life of the privileged, Tara. These are the underlings, the workers, the slaves, and the flesh traders. The elite few could not have so much if it wasn't for the many that pay for it with their very souls."
So as much as I don't want to, I do look. I see their suffering and their pain, knowing what they do not, that I’m one of them. I see every aspect of their miserable lives, and it burns and churns deep in my gut, but I say no more.
The squalor starts to melt away the further in we go. The buildings start to look fresher, newer. The dirty streets become wider and less strewn with filth. While I sit with my back to the front of the wagon and watch the city pass, Finn sits so that he can see what’s approaching, and all of a sudden his eyes go wide. He kneels up and grabs my arm, shaking it in excitement.
"Tara, look!"
I do as he says.
If the sky towers had surprised me, then this … this astounds me. In the middle of this city—this place of squalor, decay, and filth—sits a place of indescribable beauty. An island of greenery speckled with oranges and reds so vivid it hurts my eyes just to look at it. It’s cut off from the rest of the city by a wide span of blue waters so calm it almost looks like glass. It has a smaller version of the wall found outside the city in front of it, creating a barrier. But the top of this wall is curved out like a bowl so that even if you were to swim to the island, there would be no way you could climb out from under that lip to scale the wall. The only way to reach the island is a wide, stone bridge crossing the span of water and patrolled by no less than ten guards at the moment and those black metal monsters of my nightmares. Trucks, that's what the raider leader had called 'em. There are four of 'em, two flanking each side of the bridge and just sitting there, a menacing reminder of who holds the power. Even in the presence of such wonder, I cain't help the cold shiver that passes over me at the sight of 'em.
Vibrant, healthy trees, a total contrast to the sickly gray things I’m used to seeing, grow tall above the wall. The red and orange splashes -their blooming leaves. Compared to the iron grayness of the Skytown we’d just passed through, they seem almost garish in comparison. Buildings loom up outta the trees: ornate, immaculate, stone structures. Nuthin' like the towering shanties that make up the rest of the city. These are well-kept and in perfect condition and so opposite to the way the others of Skytown lived, it’s no wonder they had grown such a hatred.
"Tater, what is that place?" I say, standing on my feet to get a better look. Finn joins me at my side.
"That is Royal Island, home to the great man himself. Magnificent, is it not? Wait until you get inside the perimeter; it is absolutely breathtaking. No matter how many times I see it, I still fawn over its beauty."
"You’ve been in there?" I say.
"Oh, yes, but never as a guest. Oh, dear me, no … I’m in no way so privileged as to be a guest in this garden of ethereal delights. But I have sometimes gained admittance as entertainment for many of the parties thrown at those fine homes. There are advantages to being included in the Prezedant's elite. They truly know how to throw a party. Our friend Mack, here, can attest to that," he says with a trace of bitterness.
His words bother me in more ways than one."You mean Mack lives in there, too? With him?" The thought of that don't sit well. If I’d known we’d be so close to danger, I probably never would have come.
"Fear not, girl; it’s a large island. Everyone who's anyone in this world calls this island home. There are thousands of inhabitants; you will not be found out. As my dear mother would say, 'The best way to stay hidden is to hide in plain sight.' Right as always."
Unlike the first gate, we’re not stopped or questioned here. The guards stand at attention as Mack passes by, and he calls 'em all by name. His familiarity with 'em just adds to my unease, and I still cain't get that sinking feeling outta my gut, like we’re about to make some terrible mistake.
Entering this gated paradise is like entering a whole new world. A world of color and beauty and life. I know I must look like some fish outta water with my mouth gaping, but I cain't help myself. How is this possible? How can the rest of the world be so barren and dead but then there is this? How has the Prezedant created such a world of beauty in the wake of so much desolation? And why here? In the middle of this gods’ forsaken city? It don't make a lick of sense.
We roll through roads with homes so grand it’s like being in one of Lily's picture books. The houses are surrounded by lavish grounds and rolling carpets of greenery and colorful flowers. The flowers amaze me. How do they stay alive? The only real flowers I’ve ever seen are the straggly weeds that poke outta the ground after a rare rain, only to die hours later in the intense heat. But these are big and healthy. The old folks’ tales of the settlers and their wasteful ways of life run through my head, but here I can see it’s no folktale. It still truly exists. And Mack is a part of this. Why would he want to upset his picture-perfect life here? Why would he want to oust the Prezedant from power when he obviously lived a life of ease and luxury and plenty in a world where the rest of us had so little? It makes me question his motives again.
I catch Jax's eye, and like he knows what
I’m thinking, he turns his head to stare at Mack with a furrowed brow. I’d be willing to bet the same questions are going through his mind. Is this one huge mistake? Will we end up in the Prezedant's hands through Mack's betrayal? I hate that those thoughts are even bouncing around in my head, but after all we’ve been through, I ain't no longer that stupid, ignorant child from Rivercross. Besides Finn and Jax, I still don't trust anyone ‘round me.
There are no dirt and mud roads to be found in here. Oh, no. Tightly woven stone forms this road and the wagon wheels clack noisily as they move over it. The sides of the roads are decorated with numerous flowers and colorful brush—signs of life everywhere—serving as a constant reminder of the contrast between here and the outside. Painted torch posts holding more of those electric lights are scattered about, creating a bright glow through the rapidly approaching dusk. It’s a scene of undeniable beauty and wonder, created to cause appreciation and gratitude for the man who’d made this all possible, no doubt. All it does for me is sour my gut with intense hate and dislike for the people who live here and turn a blind eye to the suffering of the rest.
A distant roar reaches my ears over the clacking wheels, echoing louder and louder in the approaching dusk, like hundreds of voices raised as one. I tear my eyes away from the unfamiliar sights, searching the evening's violet shadows for signs of what surely must be an approaching mob. Jax and Beanie and Talbert reach for their shooters, their heads swiveling like mine trying to find the source of this fevered cry, but I don't see nuthin'.
"Tater?" I cry. "What is that? Are we under attack?"
Tater glances back, not in the least perturbed by this bloodthirsty roar that seems to be almost on top of us now.
"What?" Then as if finally noticing the noise, he nods his head towards a huge, white blob that has risen up from the shadows. "Oh no, no attack. No worries. That’s just the bellowing of the people in the arena. That structure over there."
New Bloods Boxset Page 35
