Hope of the Future

by Ariana Browning

  The weight of Cayla’s gaze on him made Ronin glance at her. She knew what he was thinking. He went back to focusing on the road ahead.

  TWELVE

  THE ARMS HELD HER back while she watched Jake dying. He was an old man then, but she still worked hard to prolong his life.

  Jake grabbed at the hand around his neck, bucking as he tried to fight with what little strength he had left. Tears streamed down Hope’s face. Second by second, Jake lost his battle and she struggled against the restraints.

  “You’re all right, Hope. By the Old Gods, please wake up.” Cayla’s soft voice made its way into her nightmare. Hope’s lids fluttered before flying open to the concern on Cayla’s face, making Cayla appear far older than she was.

  “What happened?” Hope asked, jerking up, then wincing and putting a hand to her head. “Where are we?”

  The veil of sleep rose and a semi dark building came into focus, surrounding her on all sides. She was on a mattress on the floor. The barest of light filtered in through the wood that covered the two windows in the room.

  Hope’s heart still raced a mile a minute. She moaned when her stomach protested because she turned to find Ronin leaning against the doorjamb to the room.

  “You were having another nightmare. Pretty bad this time,” Cayla said.

  The dream seeped back in for a moment. Hope’s sides ached enough to help push the nightmare back down. Swallowing the dryness in her throat, Hope grabbed the water on the small broken table next to her, took a sip and winced when the cut next to her lip spread open.

  Debris cluttered the room, and old sheets, tattered and torn, hung over the grungy window; iron bars kept Rioters from breaking in. The bed smelled grimy and dusty, and the rest of the room filled with mildew, but passable.

  An abandoned building typical of the time. Only drifters would come and go from this sort of place. The blankets covering her weren’t too bad, she recognized them as the ones Cayla carried with her wherever they went. The blankets were filled with her scent.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Hope muttered and hoped that was the end of the conversation. She didn’t want Ronin to know how she felt. What she couldn’t see was the way he clenched his fists under his arms because of the pain in her eyes.

  Ronin slid off the doorjamb, then left the room without a word or backward glance.

  Cayla shook her head. “He didn’t like seeing you that way. He will need a moment to calm his temper down. You were screaming not to hurt someone, a him. It hit him fairly hard, not sure why.”

  Cayla turned back to her and brushed the sweaty hair off Hope’s forehead. “You rarely get any sleep. I hope taking shelter in this building for a time will help. You were so out of it that Ronin had to carry you in.” Cayla took a deep breath and sat back. “We’ll move on soon, but the vehicle was acting up, and we will have to gather more supplies.”

  Hope snorted before she took another sip of the water. “Cayla, you’d be wise to leave me. You have no idea how hard people will work to kill me, or to get a hold of me. I don’t know if I’d be capable of having another child, anyway. Neither do you. This could be for nothing. No, this is for nothing. I’ve told you, I will never have another child. Ever.”

  Cayla sighed the sigh she always did. The one that meant how can I change your mind and keep you from giving up? “I understand you feel that way, Hope. I can appreciate the pain you’ve been through—”

  Hope cut her off and raised a hand, “Don’t. You can’t imagine what it’s been like. Just stop.” Struggling out of bed to stand up, she attempted to shove Cayla’s helping hand away. Hope tripped and stumbled out the door, mad at herself for being weak, mad that she cared about Cayla being hurt. Also mad that they wouldn’t let her be so she could die, and they could be free.

  Hope dismissed the, “come back here” comment yelled after her and the whispered, “please don’t leave the building,” after that. All she wanted was to get away from that room as fast as possible. Away from the pain, away from the memories, away from everyone. She prayed she didn’t slam into Ronin on the way.

  Luckily that didn’t happen. Hope made it across the empty floor by using the railing, and into a room at the opposite end of the building, farthest away from the people who wanted to help. She didn’t dare risk trying the stairs in the state she was in.

  Hope shuffled over to the window. A box struck her in the shin and she cursed under her breath. Jeans didn’t stop wood intent on causing pain. She jerked her clothes back in order, then peered through the wood slats adorning the window, listening for any sounds that may mean harm.

  The cold early evening hours reached out and drifted around her body through the broken window, chilling her. Hope wrapped her arms tighter around her body and winced. It would take a few days for her to heal, faster than most people. She never understood why.

  Why, if she was so special, could she get hurt? Consequences for a past life in which “they” deemed she needed to understand human pain? Whoever “they” were. Was it because she tried so hard to be human that she brought it on herself?

  A soft snort left her. What past life? This was all she had ever known. Would she ever know if she’d have another life after this one? Or was this hellhole the last stop for her?

  Maybe it was because she was cursed with the ability to have children. Her body had to be human to support the life of one. In a world that didn’t want women to have children.

  Hope checked around her, then listened out for noise nearby. Nobody was around. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  A few seconds later her eyes snapped open. She stopped and listened. Pressing her lips together, she flipped around to check. She could have sworn she heard something.

  Still nothing.

  Awareness of another presence entered the room, which caused her to stiffen. Hope focused on the desolate atmosphere outside the window. She hadn’t heard his footsteps approach. When the presence leaned against the doorjamb and the familiar analytic gaze fell upon her, she eased further. What did he want?

  Hope couldn’t see anything beyond the window of substance. Once upon a time, The Streets would’ve been clear of all the debris and full of cars. People would’ve been walking to and fro, talking back and forth. They would’ve been complaining about their jobs, laughing over how their weekends had gone, or planning parties.

  But nobody was out walking. There were no people complaining about their jobs. Nobody laughing about how their weekends had gone. Not one person was out there, giving life to the desolate atmosphere.

  Abandoned cars littered the sidewalks from the wars that raged constantly. Broken windows of all the buildings where Rioters came through, smashing everything in their path. Weeds and grass claimed the land so half of the broken cement along the street was filled with plant life.

  If anyone did choose to walk through The Streets, they would be covered in weapons, shabby and filthy clothes, or someone would run up to kill them without a second thought. There was no talking anymore. It was kill or be killed. No thoughts behind the actions. Always reacting.

  No more police to intervene. Budget cuts were the first to remove most of them. After that? The cops didn’t care. The government didn’t want to help. They chose not to. Why waste their time? You were on your own out here. Sooner or later all those who were hired and paid to help had disappeared. It was human versus human, Amaranthine versus Amaranthine.

  No law.

  No help.

  No lawyers.

  No judges.

  No jails.

  Nothing.

  Most streets were empty of cars and people. When people ventured out, they did it with care. Obesity killed. Weakness was your death sentence. Old age. Children. If the sickness didn’t get you. You, got you. It was beyond the strong versus the weak. It was the strong, smart, beyond human who survived. Kill or be killed had never any better meaning.

  This was once one of the cities where people came to be discovered. Now, a plac
e they avoided because discovery was the last thing they wanted. This was a city renowned for the crowds that once gathered. Now an empty shell of what once was.

  The City of Angels.

  Now . . . The City of Death. Also known as Zone Six.

  Los Angeles.

  The city suffered the same fate as the rest of the world. A lost memory. Death was always right around the corner. Or, the next step they took. Once a place everyone wanted to visit and pass through. Now a place the people didn’t dare. A city you avoided at all costs.

  Cayla, Ronin, and Hope headed for a place once called Canada. Not anymore. There weren’t borders, weren’t specific places like there once were. Zone One, Zone Two, that was how they referred to them now. Safe zone, not so safe zone. No specificity.

  The next stop was a place Hope knew well, formerly known as Washington, now Zone Eight. She wondered what it would look like. The wild had most likely taken over the way it had in the rest of the world. So few people in existence meant that mother nature could take back what belonged to her.

  Hope understood the urge to claim what belonged to you. The earth spoke to her in ways it didn’t to others. Granted, she had spent a lifetime shutting out the noise, and finally had once Gideon died. Hope had no interest in hearing what the whispers had to say. She didn’t want to hear the pain, the suffering, nothing. She wanted to be left alone.

  Cayla and Ronin had spoken to her about Zone Eight and a settlement in Zone Two that Cayla wanted to take her to. They somehow believed that inside those walls, they’d be hidden from Darrok. A friend of Cayla’s who lived in Zone Eight would provide them documents to go along with Ronin’s IDs.

  The three of them were going to pass through the former Seattle. A city Hope had lived in when she was a young girl centuries ago, and right before everything went to Hell. She was rather curious to see what had come of it.

  The city of Seattle had been the up and coming Los Angeles. Everyone wanted to move there, but what of the place now? Would the sun still shine as beautiful? Would the evergreens be as green? Would the air be as clean? Would the buildings of the city show the gorgeous shine of the water and blue skies? Would the weather still be so warm and inviting?

  Hope cleared her throat, interrupting her own thoughts so she wouldn’t dwell. The gaze on her back hadn’t lifted. It stretched her nerves.

  “I suppose you’ve come to chastise the child for yelling at Cayla once more?”

  Ronin never moved. He spoke in a hushed tone. “I wanted to know if you were all right.”

  The concern in his voice worked its way inside and touched a place in Hope’s dead heart she didn’t think was possible. She turned, surprised that he showed such genuine concern, believing she imagined the entire thing. Their gazes locked and Hope found herself lost.

  She never noticed how bright and clear his eyes were. They were like someone else she once knew. Just as cold, as well. They read her soul—

  Trying to gain traction again, she turned her back to him. “I have at least one broken rib—” Not anymore. “—and many more bruises that will take a while to heal. The cut on my lip thought it necessary to reopen a million times and I have no pain meds. I have a migraine that wants to make itself known better than a saw through a skull might. No, I think a saw would be nicer. So . . . what do you think?”

  Hope wished the remarks would be the end of the chat. Could she treat him harsher? Did he need her to so he would leave her alone? She hated being so cruel to people, but the bitch attitude was the only way to keep them away. Then people left her alone. The only way Hope knew to protect them from getting hurt.

  Ronin never moved, his clothes didn’t shift, breathing didn’t pick up, nothing changed. He did nothing but listen.

  When Hope was done, he continued with the soft tone that tugged at her heart. “And the dream?”

  Only one man ever touched her in such a way. And only after he’d learned of her pregnancy. By that time, neither of them could build the wall back up, and keep it there. By that time, she had known what it was like to love, and the intensity of that love was once in a lifetime.

  Hope ground her teeth together and reined in the sudden need for human contact, the sudden possibility to feel anything for Ronin. She waited for the emotions to pass, waited for the urge to have someone wrap their arms around her to head back into non-existence. She would not allow it. She wasn’t that weak, not anymore, not since him. She swore, she would never allow herself to hope again, or love.

  “Leave me alone,” she spat.

  Again, he didn’t move, only listened. A tear slipped from the grip she held strong. Mentally cursing, she reminded herself of what those sort of feelings did. What they got her into. She hated Ronin. Had to keep reminding herself of that. There was no room for friendship.

  “I don’t want to be your friend, Hope. I want to protect you long enough to figure out what to do for you. I gave Cayla my word. Don’t take what I say to mean anything other than to see if you can handle the next leg. If your head isn’t in the game, you’ll make stupid mistakes. Mistakes that may get us killed.” His tone took on a new bitterness. No longer the gentle one. “Is that what you want? You hate yourself so much you want to get Cayla killed?”

  Hope spun on him. “Don’t put that on me, Ronin. Cayla chose to help me. She chose to put her life on the line. You’re both grown adults. If you’re here, it’s your choice, not mine.”

  Ronin’s gaze dropped to Hope’s mouth. “What happened to the cut on your li—”

  Cayla appeared behind Ronin and cut off his question to back up Hope. “She’s right, Ronin.”

  Hope’s eyes widened, having forgotten about her bottom lip. She sucked it into her mouth. Ronin’s gaze flicked up. He noticed. Crap. Now he’d start asking questions. Like how I heal so much faster than him or Cayla.

  “It’s my choice,” Cayla continued, drawing Ronin’s attention off Hope’s mouth. “Just like it is yours. If you believe this is all wrong, you should go. I can handle it from here. And—” She turned a motherly look on Hope. “—I can handle Hope’s anger. I know where it comes from. I won’t leave her because of the way she acts, and she knows that. Don’t you?”

  Hope answered by turning her back and muttering a soft, “Yes.”

  She hoped Ronin didn’t question her about the cut on her lip having gone away so fast. He’d seen it a few minutes ago, and there was a large scab at the side of her mouth that also incorporated her bottom lip.

  Cayla would have noticed as well, but then Cayla always noticed weird things about Hope that she never spoke about. Cayla experienced plenty of unusual circumstances. She had been around Hope long enough to see things that couldn’t have happened to any normal Amaranthine. Healing that came faster, noises Hope heard better than others, the way people reacted to her presence.

  Cayla herself had experienced times where she had gone to sleep with a severe headache and woke the day after with no pain, all without pain meds. Unaware of the fact that Hope walked into the room at night and laid a hand upon Cayla’s arm, and offered a little help.

  Hope paid a price each time she helped Cayla. Those little calls of energy took everything out of her, and sucked Hope of vitality. The next day she barely managed walking. A price she was more than willing to pay to help Cayla. She didn’t know why she was so weak anymore, all but powerless. If it meant helping someone, she would suffer the pain that using her power created.

  It was her own fault. If she hadn’t given up hope, if she hadn’t closed off all those whispers, if Hope had only remained open, maybe she could survive on her own. Without Cayla and Ronin, she knew someone could kill her now. Still, she didn’t want them to get hurt. She’d rather sacrifice herself than be responsible for another’s death.

  Maybe Cayla had known it was her. Who knew. What Hope did know was that Cayla was right. Hope would do anything to avoid hurting Cayla, because Cayla was the closest thing to a mother that Hope had ever known. Her own mother hadn’
t even been as good to her.

  As much as Jake had been like a father. A father she had done everything in her personal power to keep alive because she couldn’t lose him. No. It wasn’t that she couldn’t. She didn’t want to lose him. She had never known anyone as kind as that man.

  Cayla pushed past Ronin and entered the room, not noticing the moment Ronin and Hope shared. Cayla placed her body between Ronin and Hope like any mother would.

  “As I said Ronin. If you can’t handle this, leave. I’m not leaving Hope. I’ve already told her. I promised my life to protect her. If you can’t? It would be best you walk away. Now.”

  Hope watched Ronin’s image in the window. The look in his eyes said he would do anything but leave. She pursed her lips. He needed to go.

  Cayla didn’t lay off. “She’s told us over and over that we have no idea what people are capable of, right?” Ronin gave her a jerky nod. “Look at her face,” Cayla said, “Tell me that she is worth nothing, that the people out there wouldn’t care about her. Tell me she’s been lying. That friend of yours . . . how rare of a chance do you think it is that they would have known we would head there. Someone out there. Someone wants her dead. Why?”

  Ronin’s gaze was on Cayla. The words sunk into that thick skull of his. Someone was out there, working against the clock to have her killed. The only people wanting to keep Hope alive were in this room.

  Ronin scrubbed his face. His gaze flicked her way and Hope’s heart flip-flopped. His gaze moved from her to Cayla, to her, to Cayla.

  Growling, “Damn you, Cayla,” he spun and left the room.

  THIRTEEN

  THE NIGHT BEFORE THEY were to move on, Ronin made his way past Hope’s room when he caught the muttering and mewling. Another nightmare and he had to be the one who heard it? Shaking his head, a small fight played out inside him. Should he get Cayla, or should he deal with it? Back and forth it went.