Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller

by Inna Hardison

  Laurel jumped up from her seat, surprised blue eyes looking at them when they walked in and walked quickly to Brody. She threw her arms around his neck, and Brody didn’t run from her this time. He let her hold him like that, and then leaned in and kissed her on the top of her head and whispered something to her, Laurel just nodding to him, a small smile on her face, and she let him go. He knew Brody needed to be the one to tell them what happened, what his father said to him, so he didn’t follow him to the front of the flier, staying next to Laurel, watching him. All eyes were on Brody, only he couldn’t seem to find the words for a little while, and he looked uncomfortable. Finally, he quickly spat out what Fuller said, leaving out everything about his mother, and told them that the man was definitely hiding something and they needed to get it out of him. They were all silent for a while after he was done.

  Loren walked over to Brody, looking concerned. “You shouldn’t be the one to do it. I’ll do it if you want, or Drake or Lancer. It just can’t be you. You can put a bullet in his head afterward if you need to, but not that.”

  Brody shook his head. “No, Loren. It should absolutely be me. After everything he’s done, I might even enjoy it.” His voice was clipped, full of barely controlled rage, and then he spun around and walked to the door, not looking at anybody, his steps un-Brody-like heavy on the metal stairs.

  Riley told the girls and Ella to please stay put, but the rest of them followed him, worry written on all their faces.

  Brody was already by the tree, his hand wrapped around Fuller’s neck, knife in his free hand, screaming at him to spill whatever he knew that he wasn’t telling them, but Fuller just shook his head. Brody slashed through the thin cotton of the shirt and then ripped it off him, Fuller just watching him, and his eyes didn’t look cold or angry like they did before. He seemed tired, older somehow.

  “You should have pulled the trigger because what you plan to do now won’t work, and in the end, it’ll destroy you,” Fuller whispered to his son, his voice surprisingly soft.

  Brody nodded and without any warning drove the blade of the knife into his father’s chest, right under his collar bone, into a cluster of nerves.

  Fuller inhaled sharply and shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds, and then looked at Brody again. “Feel better, son?”

  Brody pulled the knife out and threw it on the ground, blood spraying from the wound in its absence, turned around, and pulled his shirt off.

  Riley watched Fuller’s face but didn’t see any regret in it, didn’t see any emotion in it at all.

  Brody faced his father again. “I wonder how many lashes you can take. It would be most fitting, don’t you think?” And he walked away, motioning to Loren, whispering something to him.

  He saw Loren run to the flier, and when he came back, he was carrying a small bag over his shoulder. Trelix made Fuller turn around and tied his hands to the tree above his head. The man’s fingers dug into the bark but he didn’t protest or fight him. Riley hoped Brody survived doing this and thought not for the first time that Loren was right. That it shouldn’t be Brody, no matter what that man had done to him. It just felt wrong, but he didn’t want to fight him on it, so he kept all these thoughts to himself.

  Brody was going through the bag Loren brought out, looking for something when Lancer crouched by him and put his hand on Brody’s shoulder. “Don’t do this, Brody. I know you feel you need to, but you can’t. Let me or Loren, any of us. Please, don’t do this to yourself.” Lancer’s voice was so quiet, he wouldn’t have heard a word of it if he weren’t standing so close.

  Brody’s jaw was clenched and his eyes down, not looking at Lancer. He stood after a beat and handed Lancer the white-handled whip he was holding, the one they took from Hassinger, the one that still made Riley flinch at the memory of it slicing into his back at the compound.

  Lancer nodded and then told Trelix to get him a bucket of water, and for anyone who didn’t need to be there for this to go back to the flier. He just needed Loren or Trelix to record anything Fuller might say if he decided to talk. He was looking at Brody when he said it, but Brody just shook his head. Drake cursed under his breath and went into the flier, and he heard the door slide shut.

  Lancer was by the tree, saying something to Fuller, something he couldn’t hear, but Fuller turned his face away from him and closed his eyes. And then Lancer was hitting him, opening up long red gashes in his back, not stopping even when his whole back was bleeding, only Fuller didn’t scream, didn’t say anything. He lost count when he saw Brody running to the tree, reaching for the whip in Lancer’s hand, screaming at him to stop, screaming that he’d kill Fuller if he keeps going. Lancer’s face was flushed, eyes staring angrily at Brody, but he dropped the whip on the ground, and then turned around and walked away, not looking at any of them.

  Riley ran to Fuller then, hoping Lancer didn’t kill him. The man’s face was pressed into the bark, but his eyes were open. He was definitely awake and breathing. He picked up the bucket of water and poured all of it on his back, Brody standing a few meters away, watching him, his face pale.

  “I don’t think he ever passed out, Brody. He’ll be okay. We should get Ella though. I’ll go get her….”

  Fuller’s strained voice stopped him mid-stride. “I need a moment before you do that, Riley.”

  He looked at Brody, but Brody didn’t move, just stood there like a statue, staring at his father’s back, and he didn’t see Loren or Trelix anywhere. He turned back to Fuller and freed his hands. He couldn’t run now, the way he was, and it felt right to let him at least drop his hands. He did, and he could see that they were shaking. Fuller drew them quickly into fists and turned his face away as if he were embarrassed his hands betrayed him like that.

  “We have to stitch you up before you bleed to death. I’m going to get Ella for you,” he said and quickly ran to the flier.

  Ella didn’t ask anything when he got there; she didn’t need to. She motioned to Loren and Trelix, grabbed her kit and a clean blanket, and they all followed her. She spread the blanket on the grass and Trelix and Loren took Fuller by the arms and made him lie down on it. He didn’t fight them, didn’t say anything at all, keeping his head down. Ella took a syringe from her kit, but Brody told her not to waste the little of it they had left on him, so she put it back and started to wipe all the blood from the man’s back with a wet towel. He couldn’t imagine the pain he was in, looking at it, and it felt wrong to put him through any more of it just yet.

  “Brody, please let her knock him out. I don’t think he can take anymore,” he whispered.

  Fuller looked at him, voice soft when he spoke, the way he always remembered it soft, “It’s all right, Riley.”

  Brody just nodded to Ella to keep going.

  Fuller tensed up but didn’t make any noise when the needle went in the first time, but Brody stopped her. “I’m sorry. Please, knock him out.”

  Fuller tried to protest, but whatever Ella put into his arm was working already, and he closed his eyes and didn’t open them again.

  Afterward, Loren tied his hands with biters and covered him with a cotton sheet so the bugs didn’t get on him.

  Everybody but Brody and him was gone. They sat in silence for a long time, watching Fuller’s back rise and fall, slowly now, and then he watched, stunned, as Brody’s hand fell on his father’s head, fingers brushing gently through the short curls, and there were tears running down his face as he did it, tears he didn’t try to hide from him.

  “I don’t know who this man is, Riley. I thought I did, but I’m missing something. Something important. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it is yet,” he said in a strained voice, and looked at him, eyes still spilling water, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him after that.

  20

  Revenge

  Lancer, June 15, 2236, The Cave

  He misread him, he knew now, after hitting him so many times that his arm got tired, and Fuller not even grunting, never
mind screaming. Something wasn’t adding up, only it made him even angrier at the man, so he kept going, swinging the whip at his back until Brody made him stop. The kid looked shaken, his face drained of all color, staring at him, begging him to stop. He screwed up, letting his anger take over like that.

  He needed to get away from them, from Brody, so he ran to the stream, taking the long way. The water lapped lazily at the muddy shore, not enough wind to make any waves in it. He found a patch of dry sand, took his shoes and the weapons belt off, and waded in, letting the water cover him, all but his head. He stood like that for a long time, running his fingers through the water, looking at the cold gray glitter in the ripples he was making, calming himself. He didn’t think he’d killed him, given that the man was still standing on his own when he left, but he knew he hurt him worse than he meant to, worse than he ever thought himself capable of, and it scared him. He wanted revenge for what that man did to his son, and he knew he would have kept going until he broke him or killed him, only the man he met in Crylo wouldn’t have taken it like that…. And he remembered how he was when Brody and his boys took him from that lab in Reston, and how Brody, too, must have misread him then, must have thought him weak, and he wondered what or whom Fuller was protecting.

  He dunked his head underwater, keeping it there for as long as he could hold his breath, and finally felt calm enough to go back, to face Brody again. He saw Riley and him crouching by what he assumed was Fuller on the grass, and as he got a bit closer, he saw tears on Brody’s face, and his hand running tenderly through his father’s hair. He stopped, watching it, stunned. They didn’t seem to be talking, Riley and him, Brody looking sadder than he’d ever seen him, crouching by the man’s head, touching him ever so gently. It didn’t make any sense for him to be doing that, not after what this man did to him.

  He felt like he was intruding, but he needed to know what changed, needed to know what happened more than he was worried about upsetting the kid. He walked over to them, not making any noise, and crouched by Brody, making him look up.

  “Give us a minute, Riley, would you?”

  The kid got up without a word and left, walking into the woods.

  Brody stared at him, eyes still wet, a question in them.

  “Walk with me, Brody. He isn’t going anywhere like this.” He took him away from Fuller, far enough to where he wouldn’t hear them if he woke up. He leaned against a tree, looking at the kid. “I’m sorry, Brody. I let my anger at him get the better of me. I know you know that, but you should know I am sorry it happened.”

  Brody just nodded, not saying anything.

  “What’s on your mind? I feel like I am missing something.”

  He watched him dry his eyes with the heels of his hands and glance over at the clearing.

  Finally, he looked at him again. “You know how we all think that what we are trying to do is right, this whole going to Crylo and getting those girls out of there? I think it’s like that for him, too, only I don’t know what it is. But I think he believes in it enough to be tortured for it, die for it maybe….” He put his head down for a little while. “Riley used to come to our house after his father beat him sometimes. We all knew that’s what happened by the way his face was, though he never once said anything about it. And he never cried, but we just knew…. My father would pick him up and hold him for the longest time. He’d tell him some story to take his mind off the pain, something with magic and goodness in it, and Riley would listen as if he believed every word. Maybe he did….” Brody smiled a small smile, closed his eyes as if remembering. “Mom would find something sweet for him or just make him tea if we didn’t have anything else, but my father, he’d hold him and talk to him until he was sure the kid was okay. Riley would hide his face in his chest and stay there, and I could tell even back then he felt completely safe in those moments. He never beat me, you know, my father. Not ever, not once, and I wasn’t a terribly good kid. I managed to always get in trouble, but he never even raised his voice at me. The man who whipped me, who wanted me dead, I don’t know him, Lancer, but something happened to him, and I want to know what it is. I need to know—” His voice broke, and he walked away from him, back to the clearing, and he had to let him be after that.

  Fuller wasn’t in the flier or the clearing when he woke up the next morning. They must have moved him to the cave. He walked over, surprised that nobody was by the fire. He heard muffled voices from the cave before he got there and stopped, listening, so he knew what he was walking into, but he couldn’t decipher anything from where he was, so he silently slid into the shadows of the opening. He was close enough to see them now. Fuller stood against the wall, shirtless, hands tied in front of him, Brody facing him, asking him something in a whisper, Fuller shaking his head, face serious. Lancer leaned against the clay, voices finally registering as words.

  “Did you ever love me?” Brody’s voice, a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “But you were willing to give me up for some stupid experiment… you left me. You owe it to me to tell me why.”

  Fuller shook his head again.

  “I need to know. Why the hell can’t you tell me? After all you did to me,” Brody’s head was down, voice verging on tears, “please, just bloody tell me. You owe me that much!”

  “I am sorry, Brody, I truly am, but I can’t.” Fuller’s voice was so unexpectedly soft, so tender, Lancer flinched.

  He was intruding on something between them, something he felt he shouldn’t be there for. He slid back out the door of the cave and sat on the log by the fire, waiting for them to be done. Brody finally came out after a while, alone, and ran through the clearing into the woods, not even looking at him. He grabbed a freshly brewed thermos of tea and went into the cave, hoping that he could get something out of this man. Maybe he’d tell someone who wasn’t his son. He just needed Brody to know something, needed for him to be okay with whatever this was.

  Fuller was still leaning on the wall the way he was before, only his eyes were closed, hands curled so hard into fists, the biters were drawing blood at his wrists. Lancer took his knife out and cut the tie, Fuller’s eyes snapping open, surprised. He lifted the thermos to him but Fuller shook his head, watching him, waiting, and there was nothing of Crylo Fuller in his face, nothing arrogant or sarcastic or angry. He looked vulnerable, and it surprised him more than anything to see him like this.

  “Do you want me to get you some pain meds? We should have some we can spare in the flier.”

  “No.”

  The man wasn’t adding up, and it unnerved him that he couldn’t figure him out, couldn’t read him.

  “What do you want, Maxton?” Fuller asked in a hoarse whisper.

  He stayed silent, thinking, watching him.

  “Whatever it is, bloody get on with it, or leave!”

  He could see the tension on him, his hands shaking at his sides. The man was hurting, and he felt it wasn’t just from what he did to him yesterday.

  He moved to stand next to him and leaned on the wall. “I watched your son almost kill a kid when I first met him. One of my men. He was seventeen, Fuller. Brody lashed out at him, hitting him with a knife over and over again. I was tied up and couldn’t do anything…. Riley stopped him. He would have killed him if not for that, I think. The kid was the one who programmed the neuros for Hassinger, the ones she used to kill Trina—”

  “Please, stop,” Fuller said, his voice shaky. His head was down, eyes shut tightly. He looked broken, and it made no sense with what he knew of this man.

  “I think I would have kept hitting you if Brody didn’t stop me yesterday. I would have killed you for what you did to your son, and I don’t think I would have felt bad for it.”

  “If you love my son, Maxton, please just shoot me. I promise you it’s the best thing you can do for him. You won’t get anything out of me, but it’s killing him to have me here, and I can’t tell him what he wants to know.” His voice was strained, and then he looked at him
, face hard, and he could tell it cost him a great deal to ask this of him. It was as if in his own way he was protecting Brody from something, something worse than the whip, worse than death maybe.

  “What are you not telling me?”

  The man closed his eyes and slid down the wall and he saw streaks of blood on the rusty clay behind him. He must have opened his wounds up.

  “Stand up and turn around.”

  He did, slowly.

  “You’re bleeding. I’ll go get Ella. Don’t move.” He went toward the door.

  “Maxton.”

  He turned.

  “Don’t. I won’t die from this, and I’d rather not have anyone’s hands on me at the moment,” he asked in a whisper.

  “All right.” He walked back toward him and settled on the ground in front of him.

  Fuller slid down against the wall again and put his head into his hands.

  He waited, the man still not saying anything, but not asking him to leave either. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke: “Have you ever done something so horrible that no amount of time can fix it? Only you didn’t mean to do it, but it happened, and it happened because of you, and there is nothing you can ever do to undo any of it?” Fuller looked at him, eyes guileless, Brody-like.

  He nodded that he had and felt the heat on his face. He wasn’t there to talk about himself, but he had a feeling he’d have to.

  Fuller was watching him warily. It didn’t matter to keep it from him, didn’t matter to keep it from anybody anymore.

  “I murdered a city full of people, women, and kids and all. I don’t even know how many there were, but it seemed like thousands…. My lab’s mission was to disperse the neuros into the population, so we did. I was in charge. I didn’t know what they programmed them to do. It doesn’t matter. They’re all dead. The sad thing is, I don’t know who would have wanted so many people dead, or why. Likely, will never know that. I wish I did. I would burn those assholes alive if I had any idea where to even start looking. I’d find them and watch them burn….”