‘Down back,’ Benny mumbled, pointing a crooked finger at the side of the building. ‘They told me to have the engine running at all times.’
Aaron thanked the driver, and rushed into the dark alleyway. He saw a broken window not too far up, and stacked crates leading into the bank’s reception.
‘Shhhhh!’ He heard voices drifting above the silence. ‘There’s someone out there you idiot!’
Aaron sighed in relief. He recognised the dragging voice of Markham, the leader of their group. He climbed up the crates, and peered into the window, just in time to see Markham smack the back of his hand at a cowering shadowed face. The shadow rubbed his cheek, and stomped his foot to the floor.
‘It’s just me, Aaron!’
There was brief silence, and even the shadow stood nailed in his tracks. Markham lifted his hand, and gestured Aaron inside. It was a struggle to crawl through the broken shards of glass, but with a quick boost against the wall, Aaron leaped to the floor, and tumbled over.
‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down!’ Markham roared.
‘Actually, I just brought you the map.’ Aaron said, flashing the scroll in his hand. He heard the faint sound of a chainsaw coming from the back of the bank, and shifted uncomfortably.
Markham studied the dark lines of Aaron’s face. He raised an eyebrow.
‘We don’t need it anymore, Tracy brought her machinery. It already got us past two security barriers, and in a few seconds, we’d have broken directly into the safe.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Aaron cried, and dropped the scroll. ‘What about protocol? There are alarms everywhere!’
‘Seriously Aaron, have you forgotten who taught you?’ Markham asked in a stone cold voice. ‘You think I don’t know that? We’ve got Willis managing the control box!’
‘You mean Willis Ranch? As in the same Willis standing right behind you?’ Aaron rubbed his forehead. Markham swung around. His face was boiling with fury. He stared upon the pale baby faced youngster in the corner of the reception, and gasped. He clearly wasn’t managing the control box at all.
‘Willis…you’re and imbecile!’He cried, charging to the back of the bank. He ploughed past Willis, and dashed towards Tracy and her chainsaw. ‘STOP, DON’T CUT ANYTHING!’ His hands were in the air, swatting away as if a swarm of bees were attacking him.
Tracy’s head was buried deep beneath the bouldering sound of a hacking chainsaw, and was struck deaf to anything Markham was saying. She forced one last slice at the safe’s thick, silvery metal, and hit a stubborn lump. Her chainsaw got stuck, and as she tugged and tugged. Its wiggling structure lifted from atop the lump, triggering a piercing series of alarms all across the bank. She stepped back, and dropped the chainsaw.
‘We have to get out of here!’ She cried, leaping past Markham, and out the window of the reception.
Following in her footsteps were all of their accomplices, with Markham courting them as a protective shepherd over his endangered sheep. ‘What have you done?’ Aaron asked, flinching away from the red rotating lights.
He hurdled after Markham, but was hit on the head by a heavy mass. His head felt heavy, and his feet started to drag. As he fell to the floor, he saw Markham’s face pulling away, and dropping a chair to the floor.
‘I’m sorry, Aaron. You should’ve stayed at home.’ He said, and scrambled out the window.
Aaron’s head was spinning. How could Markham do that to him? His thoughts were filled with all sorts of solutions–the most appealing one being that he would wake up at any given moment, still in bed, waiting upon Markham and the others to return. He couldn’t understand when he’d suddenly burst into laughing, and felt soggy tears forced from his eyes.
Aaron blinked.
He felt as numerous pairs of hands gathered him to his feet, and cuffed his arms behind his back. ‘Do you think he’s delirious, sir?’ He heard a voice say, and pierced his eyes. A heavily decorated guard stood accompanied with a man in a suit. He had bushy black hair, and stood with his shaggy hands in his pockets. His shoes were shiny, and his suit tightly fitted around his shaped chest.
‘It doesn’t matter, book him.’ Dallas Romero said, turning around and marching to the back of the bank.
The guard looked stunned. ‘But sir, he couldn’t have possibly done all of this by himself?’
Dallas stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around. He gave a snarling (but strangely composed) glance at the reasoning guard, and lifted his eyebrows.
‘Very well, sir.’ The guard scrambled. ‘Book him!’ He said to the others, still clenching Aaron for dear life, as his own feet gave way from under him.
To be entirely honest, Aaron was never sure what exactly happened that day. The look on Markham’s face was glued to the back of his mind ever since, and the questions of ‘why’ had haunted him every day of his life.
Aaron felt grateful for not seeing his mother’s face before she’d left him. If her eyes were anything as cold and empty as Markham’s, he’d surely have been scarred for life.
‘Don’t waste your time on Shawn, sweetheart!’ Viper moaned, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘He’d be too messed up for you.’ She pulled her fakest expression of concern, and fluttered her lashes at Sam. ‘Why not stick with the salty rich boys that aunty Cara could easily line up for you?’
Sam had waited for another bomb to drop all day. It was a general assumption that she could have anything she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Everyone had always thought that just because her aunt was the head of the board, the general rules of Emitton hadn’t applied to her.
Deep inside Sam felt guilty, because this alone, had partly been the reason for her coming to the wastelands. She had wanted to prove to everyone out there, that even she (Samantha Cyrus) could just as easily be exiled. At least now she had an idea of why Viper despised her.
‘It isn’t like that!’ Sam hissed.
‘Well it sure seems like it.’ Viper said, placing her hands on her hips. ‘I saw you blushing when Shawn was up there–and the way you cried out when they wanted to shoot him. A bit too much emotion for someone you hadn’t even met, don’t you think?’ She pressed her thin lips together in satisfaction.
‘And what if I do like him?’ Sam asked, raising her voice. She couldn’t help but notice Aaron pacing uncomfortably.
‘Just stop it Viper!’ Melanie cried. She almost tipped over the entire bucket of cement as she stood up, and leaped in front of Viper.
‘It’s okay Melanie.’ Sam defended, pushing out her chest. ‘I’m okay.’ She brushed off Viper’s comment, and pretended not to have heard it. She picked up her shovel, and continued scooping cement.
In the far corner of her eye, Sam saw Melanie sneering at Viper, who’d in return pass off a lethal stare. I have to get out of here, she thought, and stared up at the fence.
Before today, there was no hope, but after seeing Shawn, Sam felt rejuvenated. She blushed warmly at the thought of what Viper had said. How could she possibly like someone she’d never even met?
Then of course, there was Shawn’s tanned skin, and chocolate brown hair. It was surely enough to make any girl melt. She’d felt his free spirit from all across the construction site, and was instantly captivated by his uplifting personality (and somewhat reckless aura). Not even to mention all he could tell her about Mike, and where they had fled off to.
Sam knew now, she just had to see Shawn again.
Chapter 8
Sam plunged a wet sponge onto the mucky bathroom floor. Its foamy water had gushed along the edges of the chipped tiles, and slowly seeped into the small cracks. It bubbled up and spiralled away with a soft popping sound.
She had spent the past twenty four hours dodging the company of Viper, and was all too relieved when assigned bathroom duty with Luke and Melanie. Sam tried to keep herself occupied, and not to have her mind drift off to the mysterious agile figure that had climbed the fence.
She hadn’t seen him at dinner the previous night, or at breakfast the n
ext morning. Sam had spent every passing bite scanning the cafeteria for his presence. She’d felt silly as she thought of herself being so hung up on him. She’d convinced herself that it wasn’t because of the fact that she’d liked him, but simply because he knew Mike. It was as if a small piece of her brother was carried with Shawn.
‘So, what’s going on with you lately?’ Melanie asked. She had dipped her wet sponge into the grotty pail of brown water, and left it to absorb within whatever foam was left.
Sam’s cheeks flushed.
‘What do you mean?’ For a moment she was worried that Melanie could read her mind.
‘You just seem a little distracted, that’s all.’ Melanie said. She raised an eyebrow in pure apathy. ‘Don’t tell me it’s because of what Viper had said?’
Sam dropped her sponge. ‘What? No, of course not,’ She lied. ‘I don’t care what Viper thinks!’
‘What is it then?’ Melanie pleaded. Her green eyes were shining like those of a newborn puppy, leaving anyone who’d gaze upon them with no other choice but to simply give in.
‘I’m only tired, that’s all.’ Sam said, shortly. ‘Just leave it, okay?’ She gazed down at the floor, picked up the sponge, and forcefully scrubbed at a mouldy piece of tile.
‘Oh, okay. If you say so…’ Melanie grumbled. ‘Just so you know, we’re all tired too–and we’ve been here much longer than you!’ She sighed, brushed loose strands of scarlet red hair behind her ears, and walked over to the sinks. For a moment she drew back as she saw herself in the mirror. It had been the first time in weeks that she’d gathered enough courage to even gaze upon her own face. She remembered her mother, and how she used to call Melanie smiley, for the way her eyes had sang along with the song in her heart. No matter how deeply she’d searched, that girl was lost forever.
Just like her mother.
When Melanie Brown grew up, her story was fairly simple. She had only known life with her and her mother, Anna Brown. They weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor either. Melanie would’ve called them: Secure.
Anna was a chamber maid in one of Emitton’s front leading hotels–Los Ricos–built at the very centre of the Lujoso district. They were set to live in one of the numerous confined staff apartments, on the bottom floor in the cellar.
Every day, whenever Anna had managed to snatch a quick break, she’d sit down and tell Melanie all the wonderful stories of their British ancestors. How they fought to hold the peace, but failed, as a nuclear bombing bombarded their country. She told the heroic tales of Melanie’s great, great grandparents, and how they had fled all across the continent in search of safe haven for their people.
Sometimes, even the other staff’s children would join in to listen. Everybody loved it, and they all loved Melanie’s mother.
Unfortunately, as nothing good lasts forever, it all came to an end when Anna met the liking of a rich businessman. He’d made his fortune in the bio-gas business, and sold it to those who were wealthy enough to still own a vehicle. At the time, he seemed like a descent man, and gave them everything they’d ever wanted.
It wasn’t long until they were married, and Anna and Melanie had to move into his gigantic house. He’d lived not far from the hotel; in an area known to be the home of only the richest of the rich. He treated Anna very badly, and shoved her around at only the slightest of arguments.
‘Make yourself useful, and clean that up! You’re not living here for free!’ He told Melanie each time when a broken vase, or shattered furniture, was scattered across the floor. He constantly threatened Anna, and said that if she’d contact the authorities, he’d kill her, and kick Melanie to the streets. She’d have to fend for herself, and most likely die of starvation or disease.
As months passed, Anna refused in leaving the house. She was too bruised, and too ashamed to even be seen in public. Melanie’s heart had bled for her broken mother.
One night, after Anna’s husband had lifted his hand at Melanie, they decided to flee.
‘Gather only the essentials.’ Anna said, packing a satchel with her swollen hands. ‘And try not to make any noise.’ She and Melanie both knew that leaving was their only chance of survival. But tragically, their plan had backfired.
‘WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING!?’ Anna’s husband asked, catching them in the back yard. Anna was struck with a shovel, and buried upon sight. Melanie was thrown to the streets and left to starve.
She’d felt like her entire life was ripped apart in a matter of seconds, for her mother was the only thing she’d ever loved. Instead of filled with tears, her eyes were filled with hatred. Her only thoughts were those of cold stone revenge. For a few days she’d waited, and followed her stepfather in his every move–before at last, she struck back.
Late one night, as he finally went to sleep, she’d broken into his shed and stole dozens of biogas cans. She’d spilled the liquid all around his house, and even threw a couple of cans through his bedroom window.
It all burnt down with one pull of a match.
Melanie didn’t run and she didn’t hide. She’d only stood there in silence as the house burned down, and still kept staring as the ECD had taken her away.
‘She’s an arsonist!’ Richard Grey had said during her trial. ‘The same exact type of criminal that caused our world to fall apart in the first place. Dallas Romero said he’d found her guilt free, staring deep into the flames as she listened to her stepfather burn. I don’t say exile, I say execution!’ And the crowd roared.
Cara Emitton stood up, and raised her hands. She’d calmed the crowd, and freed Melanie from an undeserving death. Melanie was exiled to the wastelands, the traditional punishment for those under eighteen years of age. She entered the portal with her head held high, for the deed was done, and her mother’s cruel death had been avenged.
But why hadn’t she felt at all relieved?
Sam watched as Melanie stood at a loss of words. She felt like cringing at the sorrowful sight, seeing shining tears burning in her friend’s eyes. Melanie had been the only one sticking up for her, and protecting her against the endless wrath of the Keep.
‘I’m sorry Melanie.’ Sam whispered. Her voice was raspy.
Melanie looked up, and shrugged. ‘It’s okay Sam. I know how hard your first week at Keep can be. I’ve been there too. We’ve all been there.’
An uncomfortable silence drifted amongst them as they worked, and the air was as thick as cement. The only audible noise was Luke, and the sound of bristles, as he brusged away against the toilet bowls.
‘So, what happened between you and Viper?’ Sam asked, breaking the silence. ‘You’ve been going at each other since the very moment I’d arrived.’
Melanie frowned, and thought hard. ‘The thing is, I don’t really know. Nothing ever happened.’ She said. Her voice was refined and composed. She gripped the smooth porcelain sink with both hands, and gazed past her own figure upon Sam’s dim face.
In the background, she could see Luke intently moving on from one stall to another, gathering every grain of courage to scrub the sickening toilets. He’d been the gentleman by taking the appalling duty upon himself, and Melanie had truly admired him for that. ‘I guess my personality was just too strong for her. She took one quick look at me, and decided that I wanted to overrule her–of what, I don’t know.’
Melanie rolled her eyes.
‘Well I think she’s just jealous.’ Luke said. His strong voice was muffled beneath the raucous scrubbing. ‘Look at you, you’re smart, and pretty–’ He paused, shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat. ‘I mean, just look at everything that you’ve got that she doesn’t.’
Melanie’s dreamy eyes caught his in the mirror. He’d yearned to touch her porcelain cheeks, and run his fingers along her scarlet red hair. The green of her eyes reminded him of the very essence of life, and every time she’d blink, it was as if a thousand butterflies instantly descended upon his stomach.
‘And don’t forget about your accent!’ Sam sai
d, causing them both to shy away. Sam had envied Melanie’s speech since the very first words she’d heard her speak. There was just something about a smooth British accent that had made her break out into goose bumps. Whenever a person in Emitton had possessed this manner of speaking, they’d have everyone glued to their lips; as it truly was a rare quality amongst the survivors after the war.
Melanie forged a smile and sighed. ‘She shouldn’t be jealous–not of me at least.’ She bent over and snatched up a fuzzy cloth, strolling her way towards the showers. They’d still been wet from the early morning shower schedule.
‘Besides, I think she’d ease up on me now that you’re here Sam. I’d say she’d always been jealous of the more fortunate. It’s either that, or, she really has it in for your aunt Cara!’
Sam groaned. A burning sensation had boiled at the pit of her stomach. The last thing she’d needed now was to be in a feud with Viper–especially not over Cara. If what Melanie had said was true, there’d be no way of resolving it. It wasn’t unusual for Cara to receive hatred, and even less unusual for it to be passed onto Sam.
‘Well, if anything, I might despise Cara even more than Viper.’ Sam said. She got to her feet, and rolled up her sleeves. ‘Maybe if Viper knew that, she’d back off.’ Sam lugged the half-empty bucket to a further patch of dirty floor. She carefully set it down, and rested back against the wall.
‘I hope so, for your sake.’ Melanie said. She peered at Sam over the top of the closest shower. Luke had been scrubbing the stall directly below her, and even though she’d pretended not to notice, every few seconds her eyes would drift towards him.
‘This place only brings out the worst in people.’ Luke said, at last finished with the final toilet. He wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. ‘Whatever your reason for stealing government secrets, it wasn’t worth coming here. You should’ve stayed in Emitton Sam.’
‘We all should’ve.’ Melanie said, and for a brief second, Sam had felt like agreeing with them. No, she thought. She had to come here for Mike, and she’ll do just about anything to get to him.
The Keep (A Renegades story Book 1) Page 6
