‘Do you see that mountain?’ Jack asked.
Sam nodded. ‘It’s empty?’
‘Exactly,’ He said. ‘And that’s the problem. A rebellion has arisen, Samantha. Two days ago, one of our main communication satellites–on the mountain–was blown to pieces.’
Sam shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The worn out leather squeaked at the slightest of movement. ‘But what does any of this have to do with me?’
‘We believe the rebellion was lead by someone you might know.’ Jack swiped his palm across a large vibrant screen, and an aged headshot revealed itself.
‘Mike!’ Sam gasped, fleeing from her chair. She studied the face in the photo: He’d grown older, and much more hardened. His once peaceful and witty brown eyes were lifeless and dull. Never before had Sam seen him in such a dire state. Her mind contested to have ever known him.
‘He’s alive?’ she asked.
‘It appears very much so,’ Jack said. ‘But what bothers me, is that you just happen to show up the very same day.’ He leaned forward, digging his blunt fingernails deep into the wooden desk. His breathing was heavy. ‘A Coincidence, I think not!’
‘Wait, you can’t possibly think–’ Sam rose to her feet. She stammered backwards in attempt to find the wall, and held it to her spine for support. She felt its cold presence to be accommodating. ‘I hadn’t even known Mike was still alive until now!’ she contested.
‘Do you take me for a fool? Of course you’ve been entwined in his schemes from the very beginning!’ Jack said, exploding. ‘It makes me sick to think he’d exploit his own sister like this, making you give up your life–and for what? Living out the rest of your days here in the wastelands?’
Crowe raised his hand, and punched at Mike’s headshot. The clear glass of the screen had turned pale and dark. It was all around covered in tiny webs of sharp cracks around his fist.
Sam fell to the floor and clutched her head. Jack Crowe had hated Mike, and there was no doubt about it.
‘No!’ She cried. ‘He had nothing to do with this. I came here on my own!’
Jack’s face was fiery and brimmed with wrath. ‘Don’t lie to me, tell me his plans! Where is the rebellion? Tell me!’ he commanded.
He smashed his hairy fist to the desk. It cracked, and Sam flinched. She released a small whimpering cry.
‘I want to go back to the other prisoners!’ She insisted. Her eyes were filled with tears, although she still spoke softly. ‘Take me back to them…now!’
Chapter 7
Two guards had escorted Sam from Jack Crowe’s office, and to the outside construction site. It was the very same area in which she saw the giant heaps of amber dirt the previous day. Only this time, it was flooded with life.
When striding atop the courtyard, Sam could see all the way to the guards’ quarters.
They lived in a pale, brick building at the edge of the Keep’s grounds. It had a neatly trimmed pavement, and in front of it, sat chatting groups of guards around shiny, metal tables bolted to the ground. They were apparently having lunch.
Sam was handed an old and rusty shovel, and at last reunited with the other prisoners. She had felt like she’d been gone for days, and was drained of all physical energy. She was hungry and tired, gradually soaking within her own bodily filth.
The words of Jack Crowe had unavoidably got stuck at the back of her head, and echoed louder with every passing breath. Mike hadn’t been dead, and he hadn’t been lost, but the Keep had indeed broken him. His eyes were those of a stranger, and the brother Sam once knew had truly vanished. He matured into a rough and jagged man, only at the best of what the wastelands could offer.
Sam knew, that he needed her. Now probably more than she’d ever needed him.
She fested her eyes upon Melanie, who was churning a bucket with gooey grey liquid. Even though she looked tired and out of breath, she glanced up and smiled as Sam walked towards them. ‘Glad you could join us!’ She said, wiping her forehead.
Jamie and Luna each held a shovel as well, and was spooning heaped up piles of dry cement into Melanie’s bucket. After Melanie had finished churning, Viper scooped up the cement , and plastered it onto a pale, grey brick. It was the very same bricks used in building the rest of the Keep. She then handed it to Donny, who passed it on to Aaron and Eric; the final two to then use it in building.
‘Welcome to construction duty!’ They choired, their voices dripping with sarcasm.
Sam grinned. She pinned her shovel to the crumbling heap of dry cement, figuring that by the shovel handed to her, she had to help Luna and Jamie with spooning. It was a fairly simple task that seemed rather straightforward.
‘So, what did the crow want?’ Luna asked, curiously.
‘He didn’t actually want. . .anything.’ Sam lied. She tipped a mound of heavy cement into Melanie’s bucket. ‘I guess the meeting was quite pointless to be honest.’
‘No meeting with the crow is ever pointless, believe me!’ Viper snarled. She pierced her interrogative eyes at Sam, and mechanically slapped another layer of thick, gooey cement onto a brick. She carelessly chucked it at Donny, and grunted. ‘He definitly either wanted something, or wanted to prove a point!’
Melanie scratched her face, leaving a wet trail of cement staining her cheek. ‘Still, she did manage to get out of there alive!’
Sam forced a smile. Only barely, she thought.
The truth was that Jack Crowe indeed surprised her. At first she’d thought of him as an empty person, with no feelings and no emotions. He was nothing but a mere android to her. Now, she knew otherwise.
After staring deep into his blackened soul, she discovered something that was truly mortifying: He was a person with emotion; his feelings fuming within the scorching flames of hatred and revulsion.
Sam held her breath, and blinked.
‘They must really trust us, you know, giving us metal shovels and all.’ Sam said, attempting to change the subject. She weighed the shovel in her hand.
‘Oh believe me, even if you managed to bang a couple guards on the head, there’s no way of escaping!’ Eric gestured to the humongous fence surrounding the Keep. It was stacked layers of thick metal bars, stretching upwards for nearly thirty feet on end. To the untrained eye it seemed as a fairly easy obstacle to climb, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Numerous watchtowers were steadily built alongside it, each occupied by a ruthless guard, prepared to take out any prisoner at command.
‘When I was in the crow’s office, I saw a town out there.’ Sam said. She keenly recalled the picture of the dark patch of buildings stretched out on the horizon. ‘Does anybody live there?’
Her gaze aimlessly drifted to the desert. She saw each sand grain creating its own, unique ripple patterns within the dry, howling wind. Sam looked away as a gush of dust grazed her face.
‘Yep, there are people living there. We call the ghost town.’ Luna said. She placed her hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the blazing sun. ‘Basically, it’s where every prisoner’s forced to go and live after they’re released from the Keep.’
‘Released?’ Sam asked, confused.
‘It’s the way it works out here.’ Aaron explained. ‘As soon as anyone turns nineteen, they’re let go–kicked out–and forced to fend for themselves.’ His ash blonde hair had faint patches of red from the gusting sand, and his face was shining a golden tinge from the labouring sweat. He looked rugged, but yet affable; never thought to be the stature of a hardened criminal.
Sam shifted uncomfortably. She felt a sharp tingle at the pit of her stomach, but unknowingly brushed it to the back of her mind.
‘Personally, I can’t wait to get out of here!’ Viper grumbled. Her pale face had been perfect matte, and never would anyone have guessed she’d been spending the entire day under the scorching sun. ‘I’d never have to see any of your miserable faces again....’ Her apparent eyes drifted towards Melanie.
Melanie snorted. ‘Oh, the feeling’s mutual. Believe
me!’
‘So, what if someone were to flee from the ghost town?’ Sam asked, still curious about the strange abandoned town (and couldn’t care less for Melanie and Viper’s never ending quarrel).
‘Everyone get’s tagged when they leave,’ Eric said, whacking a generously cemented brick onto the unfinished wall. ‘Besides, where would you flee to anyway? There’s nothing out there but dust!’ His soiled hand clutched in the air, desperately grasping at the never ending desert. He flinched to the side when Jamie abruptly pinned her shovel to the ground. Her eyes widened as she leaned in towards the group, and lowered her voice.
‘I heard they surgically plant the tag under your skin–while you’re still sleeping!–and you never even know it’s there!’
Sam gasped.
‘Oh, don’t believe anything she says!’ Luna laughed. ‘Your thoughts are just too wild, Jamie. It’s literally just a tag you have to wear around your neck–not under your skin!’ Luna shook her head, and tossed another pile of dry cement into Melanie’s bucket. Her best friend’s imagination had never seized to amaze her.
‘I’m telling you, it’s true!’ Jamie insisted. She looked around and saw that none of the others believed her. It seemed that even Sam had learnt by now, Jamie was known to occasionally exaggerate.
* * *
As the sun drew hotter, and the air drew drier, Sam’s throat was parched. She was tired of working, but nobody cared. Her chafing calluses were her own problem. She blinked, and looked up. Suddenly all across the construction site, an unsettling murmur arose from the other working prisoners.
Sam had immediately dropped her shovel and abandoned her post.
‘I guess it’s that time of the month again!’ Eric cried. He pumped his fists in the air, and gave a screeching whistle.
A young guy, about the same age as Sam, had run towards the fence and was climbing to the top at a rapid pace. He had all but Viper’s attention, and everyone else was cheering him on.
‘Who is that?’ Sam asked, intrigued. She looked around and saw that no one was listening. Every single eye was solely focussed onto the fearless escapee. She hadn’t known if he was stupid or brave; but either way she’d wished for his courage.
‘The idiot’s name is Shawn Mustang,’ Viper answered, rolling her eyes. She’d stood by herself at the back, crossing her arms in a total lack of care.
‘Shawn…’ Sam whispered. Her voice was dripping with wonder. No matter how hard she had tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. There was just something about his daring bravery that flipped a switch in her stomach–causing all kinds of butterflies–and not just a faint sharp tinge.
Shawn’s hand slipped, and he almost lost his grip.
Sam felt her heart pulsing as she saw how close he was to reaching the top. Her cheeks were flushed. He couldn’t possibly afford to fall now. She saw him pause, and regain composure. Even though she’d never met him, she felt as if she knew exactly what went through his mind. Hope, thrill, desire, and fear; all at the same pump of adrenaline.
‘Do you think he’s going to make it?’ Sam asked, fighting hard not to jump up and down like a lunatic.
‘Are you kidding? Of course he’s not!’ Aaron said. He’d seemed slightly frustrated in Sam’s sudden interest in Shawn. ‘He’s just climbing the fence for the fun of getting caught.’
Sam frowned. ‘You mean he’s not trying to escape?’
She stared at the agile figure climbing the fence–confused. Below him, a group of guards had entangled their arms to form a human net. As one man, they followed in Shawn’s shadow as he robustly jumped from left to right, clawing himself to the top. Sam saw they seemed entirely prepared to catch him, as if they’d practised it a million times before.
‘Isn’t he cool?’ Eric asked. His eyes were raging of jealousy. He longed for the same daring guts to do anything besides obeying the crow’s rules. He wanted to rise up against him with all his heart, even if it was only to climb a fence like Shawn.
Shawn gave the final mount to the top bar, and swung himself upright. He got to his feet, and assured his balance, before proudly waving his arms in the air. Sam melted.
‘I’m on top of the world!’ he cried, and the prisoners all went wild. Amidst the intense chaos of the construction site, an armed guard had signalled the lookout within the watchtower, and they both raised their guns.
‘They’re going to shoot him!’ Sam shrieked. She leaped forward in panic, but Aaron’s strong arms restrained her. He hauled her backwards, and kept her tight within his grip.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispered. His warm breath was muffled beneath her jaw. ‘It’s just tranquilizers. He’ll be fine.’
Sam’s head darted back just in time to see the guards aim. She shut her eyes as they pulled the triggers. Their ammunition was soft and quick–a thin metal pick that merely nicked Shawn in either leg.
He gave an overconfident salute at the cheering crowd, and leaped forward. Although both his legs were completely numbed, Shawn dived down in perfect posture. The guards at the bottom submissively caught him, and flipped him over to stand upright. They took him by his shoulders, and dragged him past the crowd.
Sam briefly caught sight of Shawn’s eyes.
She felt that its olive green glow had sliced deep into her soul, and her knees weakened upon sight. Just before the guards had dragged him away, she thought she’d seen him smile at her, and blushed.
It was a regrettable sight, but he held his head high.
‘There’s nothing to see here! Now get back to work!’ The guards barked, snapping Sam back to reality. She freed herself from Aaron’s grip, and breathed. She saw all the other prisoners had scattered back to their posts, and it seemed as if nothing had ever happened.
‘What was that?’ she asked anxiously, panting breathless.
‘You’ll get used to it.’ Viper grunted uneasily. ‘They’ve knocked him out so many times, that I’m surprised he’s not permanently paralyzed yet!’
‘He’d done this before?’ Sam asked. Her voice was pitched, and unsteady.
Melanie gasped. ‘Oh, yes! But today was just the first time he’d made it to the top.’ She had seemed quite enthusiastic (even more than usual) and her fiery, red hair had stood in all directions, partly shielding her face from the scorching sun.
‘He’s legendary.’ Eric added. ‘Supposed to have been Mike’s protégée, but when they escaped, they left him here, high and dry. Now he’s got nothing left to do but test the limits.’
Sam felt like jumping out of her skin. The idea of Shawn kept getting better by the minute.
‘He knew Mike!?’ She asked.
Eric sneered. He was utterly star struck. ‘Knew him? They were practically attached to the hip! But these days, I think he’d rather want to forget. You know, with losing his friends and all.’
It had been the first time since she’d arrived that Sam felt even a drop of hope. If only she’d have the chance to talk to Shawn.
‘Where did they take him?’ Sam asked.
‘To the box,’ Aaron said uncomfortably. ‘He might be there for a night or two.’ He gave a deep grunt, and bashed another cemented brick onto the half-finished wall. He felt deeply frustrated, and hadn’t exactly known why.
Aaron Davis was born, and grew up in the Pobre district, south of Emitton. It was widely known as the slightly less fortunate part of the city, and its inhabitants had generally struggled to get by.
When Aaron was younger, it had been just him and his mother, Marian. Even though she was a petite woman with glassy eyes, and a crooked posture, Aaron had thought of her as the most beautiful woman alive.
Their cramped flat was laid directly below the tracks of the High Burrow train, and only two blocks from where Marian had worked in a local diner.
Aaron’s father had died when he was very young, and ever since then, his mother fell to bad habits like drinking and drug abuse. One night, Aaron had woken up by the sound of his mother driving away on the
back of a strange motorbike. She’d left him behind, and he was all alone. With her, she took everything that could’ve been of any value, and left Aaron with nothing but a single pitiful note.
‘I love you.’ It read, in hastily scribbled letters.
As Aaron was barely the young age of ten, he had no other choice but to helplessly roam the dark and dangerous streets of Emitton, in desperate search of a home. Luckily, he’d found haven amongst a random band of burglars. Over the passing years, they’d cared for him, and taught him their devious ways.
‘Rob a bank?’ Aaron asked one night as they told them of their next target. Emitton General Bank was known to be the heaviest guarded building within the entire city of Emitton. Anyone who was daring enough to burgle it was surely suicidal.
‘You got a problem with that?’ They asked.
‘No.’ Aaron sat quietly, and listened to their every word. He watched intently as they drew bold red lines across a large map of the bank.
‘If you’d rather stay here, be our guest!’ They told him, and resumed their plotting. ‘We’re not going to drag you along, and hold your hand, like some feeble child!’ Their words might’ve been harsh, but to Aaron, it was the way they spoke.
Hours passed, and finally he saw them off. Their black getaway van had been recently equipped with a brand new, shiny coat of paint, and extra thick tires. Aaron felt slightly sorry for not going with them.
The night drew quiet, and as he haunted the halls of the empty warehouse, he saw a rolled up scroll forgotten on the table. ‘The map!’ He cried, and snatched it up.
If there was one thing he’d learned in all his years of burgling, it was that forgetting your blueprints could have fatal consequences. In a sheer flash of panic, he rushed to their cover van (a bright pink wagon with pastel flowers on its side) and charged after them.
Arriving at the scene, Aaron saw the shiny black van already revving, and ready to leave upon orders. ‘Where’d they go?’ He asked the driver, Benny, who’d almost fallen asleep behind the wheel.
The Keep (A Renegades story Book 1) Page 5
