He was sitting across the table from her. He took a deep breath and nodded.
"Well, I talked to one of Andy's old friends, the one who still had some access to the nets then. Anyway, Brian, that's his name, he tracked Brody to Boston, a hotel in Boston, Riley. He took the room for one night, and he never went anywhere else, not that Brian could find. There is no record of anything else. I'm truly sorry." She looked at him and he could tell she really was sorry to be telling him this about Brody, his Brody.
When someone brought it to Waller for the first time that Brody killed himself in some hotel room a year ago, he went to see Andy, but Andy just looked at him in that way he had when you did something stupid, shook his head and said, "You, of all people, you.... You, Riley, should know better. Brody would never do that to you or to me. Brody wouldn't kill himself, not for anything," and he closed the door on him then in anger for the first time in as long as he'd known the man.
But he was right, Andy was. Brody was full of dreams then, full of adventures in his head, wanting so much to fix things, make them better. He was constantly talking to Riley about it too, the things he planned. How they could make it so nobody ever lost anybody again. And how because he looked so much like them, he had to be the one to do it, to break in, and then he could do it, and he would make them pay for what they did to his parents, and to Ella, and to their parents, and he would find the asshole who shot Samson–that was the thing he seemed most angry about–and he would do something so horrible to him, something so unbearably painful, he couldn't think it up just yet. But he would before he found him.
Riley let him talk about it, all of it. It didn't hurt him like it used to. He just wanted to find Ella. Nothing Brody could do would bring anybody back, but Ella was still out there somewhere. That he could hold on to, and so he did, planning his trips to every town near a compound, learning where the compounds were and who was guarding them and how putting everything he learned onto his screens so he didn't forget. All of that, the planning and the learning, took all of his time away from thinking things Brody was thinking, and he saw him less and less, and then that thing with footage of Max happened, and Brody breaking down at Janet's house, and the day he chased him, but Brody wouldn't stop. Then he was gone. Completely, entirely gone, without a word to anybody.
That was the hardest thing for him to get past, and one of the reasons he didn't believe for the longest time that Brody killed himself like that. In his own mind, there was no way he wouldn't have said goodbye if he was never coming back. Brody could never do that to him. Only what Janet just told him meant that he could and that he did. He couldn't stay in Waller after that or ever go back there either. There was too much Brody in Waller for him to ever go back there, Brody who was now gone, who let himself be lost. Waller was gone for him after that.
Drake and Ella already had the fire going when they got to the clearing. He missed the smell of the wood-burning, pine sap spilling out of the logs. Stan found three lightweight tents for them, so they wouldn't have to sleep out in the open like they had before. They'd have to share the tents, but it was better than the blankets. Ella and Drake would share one, of course, but he didn't want to ask Ams and Laurel about the other two; didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, though by now he'd gotten used to watching Ams sleep, and the feel of her head on his chest. They hadn't done anything but that soft kiss, and he didn't mind that they hadn’t, but he knew he'd miss the feel of her next to him at night, the sound of her soft breathing, her hair tickling his cheek. He hoped Laurel knew, and that Ams would miss it too.
"Riley, Ams is too embarrassed to tell you, but she wants to share the tent with you, and I kind of like my privacy, so, you two lovebirds, you should set up."
He felt a blush heat his face, and he hoped his skin was dark enough to where she couldn’t see it, even in this light. It was as if she’d read his mind. It also sounded very much like the old, not-at-all timid Laurel, the can't-shut-up Laurel, the one he thought he missed, up until now. Drake and Ella were smiling at him, and Ams, poor Ams was pounding on Laurel's arm and looking very much the red he felt.
It would be so easy to be angry at Laurel for making them feel foolish in front of everybody, but he was grateful. He'd get to hold Ams in his arms, and it was okay by him to have to blush a little to get that, so he walked over to the pack that had the tents in it, picked out the two smaller ones, and put them up, one for them and one for Laurel.
The food was so much better than the sawdust bars they ate after the compound. Stan found them all sorts of dried fruits, veggies, and meats that turned into delicious, perfectly spiced soups and stews when you dropped all the stuff into boiling water. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of eating this stuff. Ams sat next to him with her bowl, inhaling it as if she hadn't eaten in days. He smiled, watching her until she jabbed him in the ribs to make him stop looking. The strangest things still made her embarrassed or uncomfortable, like him watching her eat, he thought and turned his face back to the fire, but he couldn't stop smiling.
They trekked comfortably through the rest of the week, not needing to kill any squirrels, or rabbits, or snakes for that matter, to make food from. It felt good not having to kill anything anymore. He never liked having to do that before and watching Ams stare at him in that way with the squirrel, and then not even eating it, though he knew she was hungry, he was glad he didn't have to do that now.
Yesterday was the best day of all, with Ams seeing her first-ever waterfall and looking at it with those impossibly large eyes of hers as if it was the most incredible thing in the world, a thing of magic. He heard it before they saw it, only nobody else seemed to know what it was by the sound of it but him, and so he told them so they wouldn't be afraid. He told them how all the water that was trapped high up in the ice needed to find a way down to the rivers and streams, and because it was coming down from so high up, it would be freezing cold.
Ams and Laurel weren't listening anymore, they were running like little kids, racing each other to the wall of water and then into it, and they were squealing at the coldness of it and laughing, and Ella and Drake too were laughing, and between the water falling like that and the laughter, it was the best sound in the world. He told them when they were all done making so much noise, that stumbling on a waterfall in these parts was as good an omen as any and that waterfalls always brought the best kind of luck.
It was something his mother told him once, about the waterfalls and luck. She'd never seen one herself, but he didn't want to think about that now, or anything else that would let any sadness seep into this moment. He watched the water, and when everyone else was done with it, walked into the wall of it and stood there with his eyes closed for a long time, and when he came out, he knew he was smiling.
They stayed there for a long time after that, running in and out of it, taking turns to wash their clothes and then waiting for it all to dry, and when they finally left the waterfall, they didn't have enough time to make it to the campsite Stan mapped out for them, so they slept on their blankets under the trees, because it was too dark to put up the tents, and they didn't make the fire because they were all too tired to collect the wood for it, so they ate cold dried meat and bread and drank cold tea.
Afterward, when everyone was quiet, asleep quiet, he laid on his side, looking at Ams, watching her sleep as has become his habit, and she reached over and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. So close, he felt the warmth of her against him, and he was suddenly afraid of the way she was looking at him, the look in her eyes he couldn't read, one he’d never seen on her before.
She seemed to read the fear in his eyes, but instead of letting him go, she just whispered at him, so softly he read it on her lips more than heard it, "I think I love you, Riley," and then she leaned in with her face and put her lips on his, but not softly like he did with hers, and she kept at it for a long time, making him feel like his insides weren't his anymore, and the heat between them unbearable, and when he k
new for sure he couldn't take it anymore, she let go, and he couldn't sleep for the longest time after that, tasting her kiss, remembering the look in her eyes, reading the words on her lips.
It made him smile now thinking about it. She must have seen it on his face, for he got another one of those jabs in the ribs, and he had to try really hard to make his face look like his old face, the one from before the kiss and the words. When he finally thought he got it right, he saw Drake running toward him, something being not right written all over his face, so they stopped, but it was too late for Drake to tell them what it was. He saw the smoke already and looking at it through the trees, he could tell that it was a large fire, much larger than the ones they made.
"Everyone backtrack, don't make noise if you can help it," he whispered, hoping they saw it on time, hoping they were still safe.
He got down on the ground while everyone else stopped just a bit behind him, realizing that not moving at all was quieter than anything else they could do, and he watched as a group of young boys arranged themselves in a circle around the fire, fair-headed boys, not Zorin. They were waiting for something or someone, and then he saw him—a somewhat taller, older, light-haired boy wearing a soldier's uniform walking into the circle, his face to the fire so he couldn't see him, the younger ones watching him. He must have been saying something, but Riley couldn't hear what it was, just knew he must have been talking because he was moving his arms, gesturing as he spoke, and the way he moved seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't place it.
This taller boy paced, back and forth, and then he turned, putting the fire behind him for just a fraction of a second, and he knew, even with only seeing half of his face, he knew with every cell of his body who this boy was, and that they were indeed safe. This boy standing there was the safest place of all.
He got up and without bothering to shake the dirt or the leaves off himself, ran to the fire, weaving through the trees, screaming the name he'd carried with him for so many years now like a talisman, the name he kept closest to his heart: "Brody!" Screaming it over and over again.
1
The Pact
Riley, May 6, 2236, Woods Outside of Reston
Riley was grinning like an idiot, running out towards the big fire, screaming “Brody!” at the top of his lungs, and he didn’t care. Brody, his Brody was alive after all. He always hoped he was, but when Janet told him about tracking Brody to that hotel, where he supposedly put a bullet in his head, and then his tracks disappearing altogether, it fit with all the rumors in Waller. He had to let him go then, and reluctantly, he did. But there he was, a few meters in front of him, staring at him now with a strange look on his face. He heard the others following behind him, but slowly, carefully through the dark.
The younger boys lined up flanking Brody, guns drawn. He put his hands up, so they wouldn’t accidentally shoot him.
“Stand down.” The guns were lowered immediately. So he was right. Brody was in charge here.
And then Brody pointed his own gun straight at his head. “That’s far enough, Zoriner. Bruner, search him, thoroughly, for anything he can use as a weapon.”
One of the larger boys walked over to him and patted him down. He took his screens out of his pocket, and a small knife. That’s all he had on him. Everything else, including his gun, he stupidly left in his backpack in the woods.
He was standing only a few steps away from being able to put Brody into a headlock, few steps from being able to hug him for all the years he thought he was dead. He was staring at his best friend in the world, who was still pointing a gun at him, not finding any words now. He heard the rest of his group coming out of the woods, and the boys running to them, guns drawn again.
“Search them for weapons and bring them all here.” The stun guns, Ella’s knife, and medkit were dropped in a pile behind the fire.
He watched as the boys moved Ams and Laurel away from Ella. He couldn’t see Drake anywhere. The girls were holding hands, fear written all over their faces. He flinched when they put a slave band on Ella, Brody not looking at any of it, staring at him, gun still pointing at the middle of his head.
“On your knees, Zoriner.” Brody walked the few steps to him. The cold metal of the gun pressed into his forehead. This wasn’t a stun gun, but an old school weapon, ones that made holes in you, instead of just stopping your heart. He remembered Brody’s uncle, Andy, restoring these back in Waller. He used them to barter for moonshine and food. They were thought of as valuable when they worked. He was pretty sure this one worked.
“No.” He shook his head, looking Brody in the eyes. There was no way he was going to die like this, by the hand of his best friend, and on his knees. If Brody wanted to shoot him, he would have to do it looking him in the eyes.
Brody clicked the safety off with his thumb, and then Ams was running towards him, screaming something.
He shook his head at her, begging her with his eyes to stop, but it was too late.
“Grab her and tie her up at this tree, hands, and feet. I don’t want her moving at all,” Brody barked at the boys. They dragged Ams to the tree just to the right of where he was, he guessed so she could see whatever Brody would do to him and tied her up. They couldn’t hurt her. They had to know what she was. She didn’t protest or scream at them. She was staring at Brody as if he had just kicked a dead body.
“On your knees!” Brody pressed the barrel of the gun harder into his skin.
“No. You’ll just have to do it like this,” he said quietly, so only Brody would hear him.
Without any warning, Brody pointed the gun at where Ams was tied up and pulled the trigger. He saw a spray of dirt and leaves just at her feet. She screamed. “This is the only warning you’ll get, Zoriner. I only miss on purpose. On your knees!”
He dropped to his knees, hands laced behind his head. He looked up at Brody, trying to find something of the boy he had known his whole life in his face. “You win, Brody. You can do with me what you want. Please, let her go. I am begging you, as someone who used to be your friend. Let her go.”
“I’ve no idea who this Brody is, Zoriner. I don’t have your kind as friends. Bruner! Tie him up over there, same as the girl.” He pointed to a tree just opposite of where Ams was.
He could see her face more clearly now in the firelight. He mouthed “I am sorry, Ams,” hoping she could read his lips. She looked angry and afraid, but there were no tears. He had to save her. He hoped he could save her. The one called Bruner tied his hands and feet to the tree, pulling so roughly on his arms, he thought he would break something. He couldn’t move anything but his head, and he couldn’t move that enough to not see Brody and Ams.
“Take the slave girl and the Replenisher to Astor. I’ll deal with these two. Go. I’ll send the memos myself. No comms. ECH only. Dismissed,” Brody said to his crew.
One of the boys stepped forward. “Sir, there are two of them. The protocol calls for at least two.” The boy looked uncomfortable.
Brody just nodded to him. “Anders, I need you over here. You’re with me. The rest of you are dismissed.” He didn’t even turn around to see if the boys did what they were told, as if he was so accustomed to being obeyed that he didn’t need to.
The one called Anders stood by the fire, gun drawn, unmoving. Brody was going through all the screens they took from everyone and scanning the last bits, it seemed. He’d know that Drake was supposed to be with them. Where the hell was Drake? He hoped the giant tripped on something and was now hiding in the woods, waiting for the right moment to save them.
Brody got up from the pile he was digging through, walked over to him, and punched him in the stomach, hard. He couldn’t breathe for a bit after that, couldn’t speak either.
“You are making me wish you had put a bullet through your head, Brody,” he finally spat at him. He knew it was the worst kind of thing he could say to him. It didn’t matter anymore. He meant it. Needed him to know that he meant it.
Brody blanched and tu
rned away from him. So he did know who he was. “I think one of your group is missing. Drake, wherever you are, I know you can hear me. Here is what’s going to happen. Anders here will keep hitting this boy till his insides turn liquid, until you come out with your hands up, unarmed, and walk over to the fire.” Brody nodded to Anders and stepped away from them, watching Anders.
After the first few punches, he wished it was Brody hitting him. This kid whaled on him hard, not even giving him enough time to breathe. After a few more punches, he felt one of his ribs crack. Brody turned away then. At least he had the decency not to enjoy it.
He was coughing up blood, could taste it, and his vision was blurry at the edges. He heard Ams screaming, but it seemed too far away, softer, too soft to make sense with how close her face was. He knew he was going to blackout, could feel it coming, and tried his best to hold on, and suddenly, the punching stopped. He saw Anders slump to the ground at his feet, and then Drake shooting Brody and he was down, too, Drake, looking angrier than he’d ever seen him, still pointing the buzzing stun gun at the prone form. Not for the first time he was grateful that this giant of a man moved like a ghost. He could close his eyes now, so he did.
Riley woke up to the gentle touch of Ams’ small hands smoothing the hair out of his face. He felt the bandages around his ribs, restricting his breathing. He registered the fire and tried to stand up. Ams was holding him, and he knew he’d fall if she let go of him now, so he sat down, slowly, carefully, and finally, his head was clear enough to remember all that had happened since he ran out of the woods so carelessly, so stupidly, risking everybody. Ran out to Brody. He scanned the camp looking for Brody and Drake. Brody was probably dead, of course. He remembered Drake shooting him.
“Where are they, Ams?” It hurt to talk.
Ams handed him a thermos of warm tea. “I’ll go get them. Drake took that boy away from the fire for a bit. He didn’t want you to see him when you woke up. He thought you might kill him, and I think you should. But we need him to get Ella and Laurel back. That’s what Drake said. The other one,—Anders—he is dead, Riley. Drake killed him, only I don’t think he meant to, because he seemed sad about it afterward. Nice friends you have.”
Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller Page 18
