Underground (New World Series Book 4)

by Janelle Stalder

  “It’s worth a shot though,” he pressed. “It's better than just staying hidden.”

  Pete watched his friend, his mind racing. The rebel in him could see what Seamus was saying. Heck, if he didn't have Charlotte, that would have been him suggesting such a crazy idea. But the friend in him didn't like it at all. There was always something bad happening to someone in their group. He just wanted everyone safe for once. But, of course, safe did nothing for their cause.

  “You're not seriously considering this, Pete,” Roman said incredulously.

  He looked between them, seeing the knowing smile that spread slowly across Seamus' face.

  “You don't know McKay,” Seamus said. “He's just as crazy as me. This is our chance, mate,” he continued, looking solely at Pete. His eyes pleaded with him to support him.

  “You'd have to come back every night when your shift is done,” Pete stressed.

  Seamus clapped, whooping. “Absolutely,” he agreed.

  “And don't be taking any unnecessary chances that could get you in trouble. I mean it, Seamus, keep your head down, and stay out of harm’s way.”

  “Scout’s honor,” he promised, raising his hand.

  “You two are insane,” Roman said, shaking his head as he stood. “You're going to get yourself killed.”

  Seamus just smiled, his eyes cold and steady. “I'm willing to risk it.”

  “You're the one who took us, remember?” Phoenix said, squaring off with Bastian. “How can you even ask why we're here?”

  He smiled coldly. “How do I know you didn't plan to be taken?”

  She huffed out a breath. “You're joking right? You think we'd actually sign up for this shit?” She gestured around. “Get real, Bastian. What are you so paranoid about?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Cut the shit, Red. Tell me why you're here or Pixie will pay the price for your lies.”

  “Okay, enough!” Garrett said, stepping forward. “This is ridiculous. I don't see why there's a need to lie anymore. We're all stuck in the damn room anyway, might as well fess up.”

  “Garrett,” came Trent's warning growl.

  Garrett turned to face his brother. “What other choice do we have? I'm not letting Pixie get hurt.”

  “He’s not going to hurt the lass,” Tyler said calmly, as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

  Phoenix looked to see Bastian's face, but he kept his expression blank. Cold.

  “Well I'm not willing to take that chance,” Garrett said, facing Bastian again. “Look, your guys took our friends and we came here to get them back. End of story. From what I've seen, you have plenty of fighters here, I'm sure you can let our friends go and we can all be on our way.”

  The silence in the room felt heavy as they all waited to hear Bastian's reply. He kept his blank gaze on Garrett, seemingly processing what had just been told to him. Then he did something she hadn't expected.

  He began to laugh.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Let me get this straight,” said Bastian, his laughter ebbing. “You think you can waltz into my home, under the guise of being one of my patrons, with the intent of helping two of my fighters escape, and I'm just supposed to be okay with that? I should just ignore the betrayal and lies, and simply...let you leave?” He chuckled again. “How...quaint.”

  “What you're doing is illegal,” Missy said. “You can't just take people off the streets and force them to do these things.”

  “Is that so, sweetheart? And who are you going to report me to?”

  “We need to get out of here, there are people counting on us!” Missy was pulled back into Tyler's arms as he quietly shushed her.

  “Calm down, love,” he said softly.

  It was too late though. Bastian's interest was piqued, Phoenix could see it in his gaze as it swung back to her.

  “Care to explain?” he said.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Not really.”

  He looked from one of them to another. She could practically see his brain working, the wheels turning as he tried to make sense of it all. Slowly he started to rub his chin, stroking his beard.

  “Here's a story for you now,” he said slowly, walking toward one of the empty chairs. Swinging it around, he sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the back of it as he surveyed them all. “Once upon a time, there was a rumor going around about a group of girls who fancied themselves rebels.”

  Phoenix stood up straighter, her anger sparking at his condescending tone. His eyes instantly landed on her, his lips pulling up into a knowing smile.

  “These girls,” he continued, “fought for the people of the ghettos. Those poor souls repressed by the evil Ludwig Tennebris. People who – counted on them, you could say?” His eyes flickered to Missy. “I would imagine such girls would be well versed in fighting.” He stood up, the chair legs screeching across the floor. Phoenix flinched at the sound. “How am I doing so far?”

  They all remained silent. Sweat cooled on the back of her neck. Phoenix didn't know what to expect now. It actually didn't surprise her that he'd put it all together. Bastian didn't come across as stupid, and she guessed he was well connected enough to know what happened within the city limits, even though he kept himself to the Outlands.

  He snapped his fingers. “What did they call themselves again?” He looked up in thought.

  “Archers,” Phoenix whispered.

  “What was that?”

  She clenched her fists. “The Archers.”

  “Ah yes, the Archers. The weapon of the people. How does the battle go?”

  Phoenix narrowed her eyes at him. “I wouldn't know, I've been stuck in this fucking place.”

  “How irritating for you. Tell me, Red-”

  “It's Phoenix.”

  He stopped, both eyebrows raised. “Tell me, Phoenix, how can you expect to liberate the people of New Berlin if you can't even manage to take care of yourself?”

  She moved before she could stop herself. Suddenly Trent was there, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her back.

  “Calm down, princess,” he ordered in her ear.

  “Tell me,” Bastian went on unfazed, “where do you men fit in? I was under the impression the Archers were all women.”

  “We used to be part of the rebels under the General,” Garrett answered.

  Bastian let out a low whistle. “Used to be?”

  “Let's just say,” Tyler cut in, his deep brogue thick, “we didn't see eye to eye.”

  “We don't belong here,” Trent said, his cheat vibrating against her back as he spoke. She thought she could see Bastian actually considering their situation, making hope flare in her chest. “Just return Pixie to us and we'll all leave you to your business, and us to ours.”

  And just like that, his face shut down, his body going rigid.

  “No one is going anywhere,” he snarled out through gritted teeth. Turning, he ripped open the door and walked out, slamming it behind him.

  Garrett sighed. “Well that went better than expected.”

  Stella walked in behind her parents, glancing around the room. The center was actually decorated beautifully. The New World Order had gone all out to make this night a formal affair. With everything that had been happening around and outside the Upper section, Ludwig Tennebris seemed to be even more concerned about making sure his higher citizens were kept happy.

  Her mother and father stopped to say hello to some of the other adults, as Mara walked off to where her girlfriends stood. A group of boys from school were also gathered close by, clearly checking out the girls. All eyes turned to Mara as she approached, not that she made any acknowledgment of the fact.

  Stella knew how aware her sister was of her good looks. It came as no surprise that she would garner such attention. Looking down at the yellow lace she wore, Stella fingered the material wondering if anyone would bother looking at her if she were to walk across the room the same way her sister had. She doubted it. N
o, she knew outright that no one would. Stella wasn't the kind of girl people took notice of.

  Sighing, she looked up and squared her shoulders. At least she was out of her room and able to enjoy the night. She didn't need anyone's attention to have fun. This wasn't an everyday experience, and she would not let her thoughts and insecurities get her down.

  Mr. Samson sat along the wall where some other older citizens sat. Stella told her mom softly she was leaving and then headed in his direction.

  “Miss. Stella,” he said, his old, wrinkled face splitting into a grin. She smiled back, already feeling better. “Don't you look beautiful. Why, I bet all the young boys won't be able to take their eyes off you tonight.”

  She laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Samson, but I think most eyes get stuck on Mara before they can even notice me.” Saying her previous thoughts out loud didn't feel as bad as she thought. Especially when Mr. Samson waved her off.

  “Then those boys ain't worth your time. Your sister doesn't have the same natural beauty as you, both inside and out. It's not enough to just be a pretty face, you know. You have to be pretty on the inside too. And you, my dear, are as pretty as they come.”

  Stella smiled at him, blinking back her tears. She felt lighter in that moment than ever before.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “That's awfully kind of you.”

  He simply shrugged. “It's the truth of it.”

  Taking the seat beside him, she looked out at the other girls and boys her age, deciding where she sat was far better anyway. Her next words slipped out before she could stop them. “Is your nephew coming tonight?” She closed her eyes, cringing. Hopefully he wouldn't read too much into her asking about him all the time.

  “Garrett?” he snorted. “I don't think so. This isn't his kind of thing.”

  Garrett. A name for the face that filled her dreams.

  “It’s too bad though,” he went on, turning to look at her thoughtfully, “I think you two would get along quite well.”

  She could feel her cheeks blush. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

  “Because you're both thoughtful and considerate of others. You like to make people happy. That's a rare trait these days.”

  She smiled, looking down at her lap. If only he were right, she thought. What would it be like to be even friends with someone like Garrett? Surely she'd like more, but someone like him would probably take one look at her sister Mara and choose her instead. Still, Stella could hope and dream. There was no shame in that.

  Feedback from a microphone sounded throughout the room, catching everyone's attention. Stella looked up to see a man she didn't recognize waiting to address them all. Normally Roman Adamson would have been the one to attend these functions in Ludwig's place, but no one had seen him of late. Her father had said he suspected the second in command had died in one of the explosions. There had been no official word on it though, that she'd heard at least.

  Her mother had said before they'd left home that she thought Ludwig himself might address them tonight. But it wasn't him up there. Their leader was a younger man, and very handsome and regal looking. Mara had a huge crush on him. No, this man was older, his hair greying and his face lined with age. Although he still seemed to be in good shape. Was he a soldier? She wondered. He didn't wear the NWO uniform so she couldn't tell.

  “Good evening, New Berlin's elite,” he said.

  Stella sensed Mr. Samson sit up straighter, as though on alert. Her own body stiffened, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Something was wrong.

  “We'd like to welcome you all,” the man continued, gesturing to the soldiers standing guard at the exits. One by one they raised their guns. Her breath lodged in her throat. The barrels weren’t aimed at the speaker, but at the crowd. More men entered then, all carrying large weapons. These ones didn't wear the uniform of the NWO though.

  “For those of you who don't know me, which is probably all of you,” the man chuckled, “my name is Douglas Hatcher. Although most of my men call me the General, leader of the rebels.”

  Gasps of shock and outrage rippled through the crowd.

  “I see some of you have heard of me.”

  Stella reached out instinctively, gripping Mr. Samson's hand. He squeezed hers in return.

  Douglas Hatcher smiled down at them, the cruel expression distorting his face.

  “I'm also your leader now,” he stated.

  “The hell you are, Hatcher!” someone shouted.

  Stella looked to see Mr. Cumberbatch, the owner of the only bakery in the Upper section, stepping forward to face off with the other man.

  “No?” Douglas said calmly. He looked around at the rest of the people slowly. “Let it be known that anyone who wishes to challenge my leadership will not be tolerated.” He glanced at one of the plain clothed men, nodding his head once.

  The shot rang out before Stella even had a chance to process where the events were leading. Screams filled the room, some of them her own. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gaped in shock at the pool of the blood now surrounding Mr. Cumberbatch.

  “You know what?” Douglas Hatcher continued over the screams. “I think maybe you all need a clearer lesson than that.” He turned back to the same man. “Show them who we are.”

  And then the firing began.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Charlotte walked silently beside Lake, who - thankfully - seemed as shocked as she was and kept quiet. The doctor she had taken her to had been an older retired man with kind eyes and an easy smile. He didn't ask questions and seemed more than willing to help when he'd seen it was Lake at the door. Apparently he was good friends with her Aunt, and had known Lake since she was little.

  Charlotte couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a doctor. Occasionally she'd see the healer Ludwig had at headquarters if she was ever injured, but even that was few and far between. There was something about doctors that made her nervous. Probably because if there was something wrong with her, she'd rather not know it. Ignorance is bliss had always been her motto. Not anymore it would seem.

  Her mind was having a hard time wrapping itself around this turn of events. She almost wished it would take them longer to get home, just so she could prep herself better before facing the others. The journey to the Upper section had been relatively uneventful. If she were still friends with Ludwig, she'd tell him how slack his security really was. It was pretty pathetic.

  Only a few times had they run into patrols, but Charlotte had sensed them coming long before they appeared, giving the two of them ample time to hide until the soldiers passed. She wasn't expecting any problems on the way back either. It wasn't as if there were a ton of people clambering to get into the ghettos.

  Charlotte looked around the clean streets of the Upper section, admiring the old buildings that were still intact. Now that she thought about, she realized, glancing around some more, the streets were oddly empty of anything - including people. Where was everyone?

  “These streets are even more deserted than the ghetto,” she said, trying her best to catch a glimpse of even one person.

  Lake seemed to notice too, her head swiveling from side to side. “That's strange, isn't it?” She snapped her fingers. “No, wait, I forgot. Doctor Fitzpatrick mentioned something about an event happening tonight at the community center when you were in the washroom.”

  “And everyone goes to these things?”

  Lake shrugged. “If they were told to, yeah.”

  “Doctor Fitzpatrick didn't,” she pointed out.

  “I think sometimes the older people can opt out. I doubt my aunt went either. She hates those things.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I only went to a few. Ludwig always said it was better I didn't go.” She looked over at her with a smile. “He said I made people nervous.”

  Lake laughed, the sound seeming loud in the empty streets. “You did,” she confirmed. “Everyone was afraid of Weapon X, even us. No one knew just what you were capable of.”

&n
bsp; Charlotte didn't reply, already knowing what people probably thought of her. She was a freak, by all intents and purposes. And all because of her father. Douglas Hatcher didn't even deserve to be referred to by that name, but blood couldn't be denied.

  It still seemed strange how eerily quiet everything was. They turned a corner, Charlotte recognizing the large building of the community center at the end of the street.

  Sending out her feelers, she opened her mind to those inside, just to see what they were all doing.

  The chaos hit her first, followed by wave upon wave of feelings of fear. It was overwhelming, suffocating. Charlotte tried to shut them all out, but couldn't against the heavy assault.

  She must have stopped walking, because suddenly she could feel Lake shaking her roughly, calling out her name. Charlotte opened her eyes, not remembering having closed them, but couldn’t focus on Lake or what she was saying. She could see her mouth moving, but the words were drowned out by the hundreds of panicked voices and screams.

  Shutting her eyes again, she gripped her head, trying with all her might to close her mind off. It was impossible. It was as if you were trying to close a door when tons of rushing water was coming at it, not stopping. The door was impossible to move against the force hitting it again and again.

  “Lottey?” a voice said, the sound of it registering slightly. She gripped her head harder. “What happened?” The voice was angry, and she could distantly hear Lake giving him a frantic answer, her concern evident.

  Hands gripped her arms, pulling her forward against a warm chest. The scent of the person was familiar, grounding her somewhat as she fought for her sanity. Their arms wrapped around her tightly, giving her a sense of security.

  “Lottey,” they urged, “block it out, sweetheart. You can do it.”

  She shook her head, hot tears slipping from her eyes. They continued to murmur encouraging words while they kept a tight hold on her. On hand stroked her back slowly.