The Keep (A Renegades story Book 1)

by Marilize Loxton

  Jean La’Mieur had been particularly famous for being one of the few Frenchman to survive after the war. He had always painted the things forgotten, like large elephants and sparkling blue rivers.

  Luna absolutely adored his work.

  She ran her fingers subtly along one of his painting’s edges, and traced around his name signed at the bottom. A bitter idea had sparked within her mind, and she immediately rushed home.

  Once there, Luna had retrieved an old piece of her work from quite some time ago. It was a Jaen La’Mieur inspired masterpiece. At best she could, she gave it a swift touch up. It was a marvellous setting of what she’d thought a carnival would look like. It had a big Ferris wheel in the middle, and three, little piggy girls with fluffy cotton candy dancing around it.

  ‘There we go,’ Luna said. ‘No one will even know the difference!’ With a sturdy hand she carefully signed the bottom of the picture: Jean La’Mieur.

  It looked nearly close to genuine (even though she had to say so herself).

  Tamara Amador was all too pleased when receiving a Jean La’Mieur original. Without thinking twice, she’d bought it, and written Luna a hefty cheque.

  ‘Of course we have to send it in for authentication first.’ Tamara said, placing the cheque in a bright blue folder, and into her safe on the wall.

  ‘Do you have any idea when we’ll get it back?’ Luna asked.

  ‘There’s no telling. But I assure you, if you’re confident in whether it’s real, there’s nothing to worry about.’

  Luna hadn’t worried at all. She herself had spent so many years idolizing Jean La’Mieur, and studying his work to the tips of her fingers. Luna was an exact replica of his talents. She couldn’t help but swell with proud in what she had achieved. If the Emitton National Gallery refused to buy her paintings just because of her name, having it bought under someone else’s would just have to do.

  For now.

  One quiet night, two weeks later, Luna was crudely awoken by the bouldering sound of glass shattering downstairs.

  When getting up to investigate, she was snatched out of bed, and dragged into the studio by her arms. Her eyes focussed in the dark, catching the dreadful sight of her shredded, forged painting within the hands of a strange man. He had an unshaved chin, and black curly hair peering out from under a bowler hat. His eyes were as black as the night, and slicing into his forehead was a deep frown.

  It was Dallas Romero.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Luna asked, innocently.

  ‘You tell us.’ Dallas stood aside and Tamara Amador emerged from behind him. ‘It’s a fake.’ She hissed through clenched teeth, just as white as her snowy dreadlocks. ‘But you know that already.’

  Luna struggled to blink. Her mouth had turned dry, and her lips quivered.

  ‘According to the Emitton law, section 45-A, you Luna Monroe, have committed third degree fraud, and are to be sentenced to exile.’

  Dallas tossed the painting at Luna’s feet.

  ‘It’s a shame you’ll be locked away. You really do have a brilliant talent.’

  ‘How did you find me?’ Luna asked.

  ‘The ECD knows everything my dear! Except though, who you’re working with–’

  ‘I work alone.’

  ‘You don’t expect me to believe you’ve forged a close to perfect Jean La’Mieur completely by yourself?’

  ‘I work alone.’

  ‘Stop lying!’ Dallas snarled, smashing his fist through yet another one of Luna’s wet canvasses. The lilac paint stained Dallas’ knuckles.

  Luna tilted her head. She shut her eyes to avoid seeing her work ripped to shreds. She had no other expression, but utter shock.

  ‘Then tell us the truth.’ Tamara held out her hand, restraining Dallas from shredding another painting. Luna looked away. She was telling the truth. There never were room for others in her life, and by working alone she had never run the risk of anyone walking out on her. Like her parents did.

  ‘I – said – I – work – alone.’

  Sam crouched beside Luna, her shoulder still sore. She sat back and stared up at the star-filled sky, breathing in its serenity. A cool breeze had grazed her skin, and she felt as chills crawled down her neck.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Luna.’ Sam said. Her lower lip was clenched between her teeth. ‘This was never supposed to happen–’

  Luna kept silent.

  Her hands grasped at the thousands of red, desert sand grains. She lowered her head, and forced a grunting smirk.

  ‘Did you know, Jamie was my very first real friend?’

  ‘No…I didn’t.’ Sam straightened her legs, her hands behind her. She had studied Luna’s silhouette as it lit up in the dim light of the rising moon. They were both bruised and dirty, but at least still intact. The ground felt warm from the entire day’s baking sun.

  ‘Even though it hadn’t seemed like it, she felt like a sister to me.’ Luna paused, her voice turning hoarse. ‘I–should’ve checked–if she’d made it.’

  A single tear rolled across her cheek.

  ‘Here,’ Sam offered. She ripped a small piece of dangling fabric from her overall’s bottom, and handed it to Luna.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Chapter 18

  The boys had at long last managed to start a fire. Initially, they had disagreed about everything, until Viper had to drag them by their ears to work together.

  ‘Do you want us to freeze to death?’ She scowled, chucking scattered pieces of floorboards at Luke and Donny’s feet.

  ‘If you want a fire so bad, then how come you don’t make it?’ Eric muttered, rolling his eyes. Through the dim lighting of the pale, yellow moon, he could visibly see Viper clenching her fists at him.

  ‘Please, don’t fight you guys!’ Sam said. She had barely finished her sentence, when Viper stomped off to brood in the corner by herself.

  ‘Fine…’ Eric grunted. He, Luke and Donny peevishly joined Shawn and Aaron at the fire pit: A wide, collapsed hole at the centre of the cabin’s floor; and a broken shaft in the ceiling. From within it, they could safely ignite a fire without torching their only shelter.

  It wasn’t a big fire, but at least it did what it was supposed to, providing them with both light and heat.

  ‘There we go.’ Shawn said, satisfied, dusting off his hands.

  * * *

  The nine escapees tightly snuggled up against each other around the gleaming fire. Their icy breath had puffed into the air, crackling the flames to a gingery blaze. Sam had of course found a seat next to Shawn, who’d at once made sure they sat entirely opposite of Aaron.

  ‘Where do you guys think we are?’ Melanie asked. Her warm breath had created ashy wisps in the cold evening air. ‘I mean, what was this place–before becoming the wastelands?’

  Eric was the first to shrug. ‘Apparently it was known as the Rub’ al Khali desert.’ He said.

  ‘Where ever that might be?’

  ‘Saudi Arabia.’ Viper said, shortly. Her voice was dull and unexpected. She’d sat at the far end of the fire, snuggled up to no one, and only the glistening bottom her face was visible amongst the cold darkness.

  The fire crackled as a bewildered silence drifted throughout the cabin.

  ‘How did you know that?’ Luke dared to ask.

  ‘I–must’ve heard it somewhere–dimwit!’ Viper snapped. ‘Where else do you think?’ She nailed her glance at the fire, her bluish pink lips pressed into a thin line.

  All four of the open windows had looked out across the wandering dunes of the desert. The pale, yellow moon, hidden amidst thick clouds of smog, shined bright into the upper half of the cabin.

  ‘Well, if it’s true that Emitton was built on the ruins of Spain,’ Melanie said. She used a sharp stone to trace a rough sketch of a map on the mouldy floorboards. ‘And we’re in Saudi Arabia–’

  ‘–it means that the wastelands aren’t as far away from home as we’d thought!’ Eric interrupted. He suddenly sat up straight, his eyes foc
ussed on Melanie, smiling behind the smoky red flames.

  ‘Exactly…’ She said.

  ‘You’d actually call that place your home?’ Luna asked, croakily. Her eyes were bitter and swollen shut from crying.

  ‘My parents…’ Eric said. ‘…they’re still over there. I need to let them know that I’m okay. I can’t let my last memory of them be my dad holding back my mom as she shook in agony. I’d hate myself for that.’

  ‘I don’t even think I have a last memory of my parents.’ Sam sighed as she leaned forward to poke the fire. It sparked. ‘I’m actually embarrassed to say that I can’t even remember their faces.’ Sam closed her eyes: nothing. She had a soft tone of ashamed laughter hiding within her voice; vaguely muffled by the messy golden waves that draped across her face.

  ‘At least you still have your aunt?’ Melanie said, sympathetically.

  ‘That woman is not my aunt. She did nothing to save my parents, or Mike.’ Sam chucked another shard of broken floorboard onto the fire, watching it burn as the orange flames reflected in her glistening eyes. ‘I rarely saw her…I grew up with nannies. And it wasn’t like things changed as I grew older. She wasn’t even in the room when I was convicted…’ She said.

  A deafening silence arose. No one knew what to say. Shawn had tried to comfort Sam by resting a tender hand on her lower back.

  Aaron choked.

  ‘Well, I for one never want to go back there again.’ He said, diverting his gaze away from Sam, and onto the door. There was a large boulder steadily rolled against it, and holding it in place: Since Shawn had ripped it from its hinges earlier.

  Aaron, for one, had thought it to be entirely pointless. What, or who, were they trying to keep out? The nine of them were most likely to be the only living creatures for miles, and only death itself (the unavoidable) had lurked outside the door.

  ‘Actually, I would love to travel the world. Maybe visit the old ruins of London, you know, to get in touch with my roots.’ Melanie smiled as though she had already been there. She saw the broken down peaks of the stone hedges, the brassy gates of Buckingham palace barely attached to their pivots…she saw the crumbled Wimbledon stadium. A soft tear gently trickled her cheek. Sadly, her mother would never have the chance to see it.

  ‘You’re wasting your time! Believe me. It’s nothing but dust now!’ Shawn said, miserably.

  ‘You don’t know that.’ Melanie protested.

  The fire rose vigorously.

  Its glimmering beads had had popped, one after the other, blinding those around it, and soared away through the open shaft in the ceiling.

  Shawn swept back his hand, spitefully dusting off the greyish lines supposed to be Melanie’s map. ‘Spare yourself the journey doll face, and stay here, where at least you’ll be alive!’

  ‘Shawn!’ Sam hissed, peeling her skin from his grip, but he cogently drew her back.

  ‘It’s alright, I’m just joking…’ Shawn’s cunning smile was infested with amusement.

  Aaron shifted uneasily. ‘I think it’s great that she’d want to go and see it.’ He said.

  ‘Oh? And who’s going to keep her company, you?’

  ‘Shawn!’ Sam hissed, only that time, louder.

  Aaron’s heart had thumped in his throat.

  It hadn’t been fear pumping through his veins, but instead, anger: The anger of seeing Shawn’s hand still resting on Sam’s lower back.

  ‘There’s an entire world out there!’ Aaron said. ‘You can’t possible think the people of Emitton were the only ones to survive?’

  ‘You know what, pretty boy?’ Shawn threatened as he got to his knees. ‘You better wish that the people of Emitton were the only survivors. Human kind is nothing but a lethal war-machine, and where there are humans, destruction is sure to follow!’

  ‘Well if that’s how you feel, what did you come along for?’

  Shawn’s raging face had instantly faded. A smug grin danced around his mouth as he sat back down. ‘There was nothing left for me there.’ He hummed, turning to Sam. He placed his arm around her neck, and pulled her in closer (all the while when making sure Aaron could clearly see them).

  Sam’s cheeks had flushed a vibrant shade of crimson. She giggled.

  Aaron gritted his teeth. His blood was boiling, and a bursting blue vein had clotted the front of his forehead. He had no idea why seeing Sam with Shawn had such an effect on him, but urged it to stop immediately. What does Shawn have that I don’t? Maybe it’s his messy curly hair, or week old scruff?

  Aaron ran his hands over his own short stubble.

  ‘Okay…okay…all of your childish rivalries aside!’ Viper said, impatiently. ‘Tell me, where do we go from here?’ She crossed her arms, shooting a fowl glance at Sam.

  ‘Well–I think–our best option right now is to head into town.’ Sam said.

  Luke cleared his throat. ‘That’s about a day’s walk from here.’ he said. ‘Will we be able to make it that far without any food or water?’

  ‘I’m afraid we have no choice.’ Sam swallowed. The familiar feeling of thirst had burned at the back of her mouth. She closed her eyes, and pictured the ruined old ghost town, thinking back to where she’d seen it last in the crow’s office.

  Luke was right, it is far.

  ‘We’ll leave at first light them. Is everyone fine with that?’ Shawn said. He glanced out the window at the height of the moon. ‘It’s getting really late. We’ll have to try and get some sleep.’

  ‘Right…’ The others chanted.

  * * *

  The night slowly drew on, and the rasping walls of the cabin shook vigorously as a howling wind drifted across the desert. What once was a blazing, red fire had now been nothing more than a glowing heap of hot coals.

  Sam struggled to sleep. She got to her knees, and crept across the creaking floorboards, around the fire pit, past her sleeping friends, and sprawled herself out next to Aaron.

  ‘How are you doing?’ She asked. Her voice was muffled within the warm shaft of Aaron’s shoulder.

  ‘Tired…hungry…thirsty.’ Aaron laughed. He wrapped his hands around Sam’s, trying to squeeze the freezing blue out of them.

  ‘Aaron, I’m so sorry.’ Sam said. She looked up at him. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Aaron sensed the burning heat from Sam’s lips enflaming his. It was as if they had been magnetized, pulling him in closer for the touch.

  ‘But I’d still prefer this over the Keep any day.’ Aaron breathed.

  ‘You know, I’ve never thanked you for doing this. I really owe you.’ Sam smiled. ‘You’re a great friend, Aaron.’

  Aaron’s heart had crumbled into a thousand shattered pieces. He released his grip of Sam’s hands, and pulled away.

  ‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He muttered, his eyes studying Sam’s face. She had seemed happy, which made him happy. He should be thankful to have her as a friend, he thought. The only thing he can possibly do now is to be there for her: Until the very end.

  Hopefully Shawn was just a temporary fling.

  Just as the thought had passed through his mind, Aaron felt a sneering glare drilled into the back of his neck. It was Shawn. He had been resting back, supporting his head against a crumbling pillar by the door. His envious green eyes were pierced onto Sam, peacefully curled up against Aaron’s side.

  ‘We have to take turns in keeping watch.’ Shawn grumbled, his face enlightening as Sam lifted her head. Her eyes were red and tired. ‘Sam, you need to sleep. I’ll take the first watch. I’m not that tired anyway.’

  ‘I’ll go second.’ Aaron offered, and Eric was all too willing to go third.

  ‘I warn you, if any of you bozos dare fall asleep on the job!’ Viper said. She’d sat cross-legged on the floor, beneath an open window, anchoring herself to the natural light of the moon.

  ‘Me? I’ll never!’ Shawn hummed as smooth as ever. ‘But I can’t say the same for the others though.’ His cunning eyes were nailed to Aaron’s, as if to say: ‘That’
s right, I’m talking about you!’

  Aaron calmly shifted aside, and rested back against a broken piece of floorboard. He looked up through the open shaft in the ceiling.

  There wasn’t a single star in sight. All Aaron could see was the dim silhouette of dust, and ash as it clouded the sky.

  ‘Good night, Aaron.’ Sam whispered.

  ‘Good night, Sam.’ Aaron smiled, even though his heart was bleeding on the inside. Within his own heartbreak, he had felt a strange and unusual feeling of pride. As long as Sam was fast asleep next to him, he had the clear overhand, and there was nothing Shawn could ever do that could possibly bother him.

  Chapter 19

  Night had gone, and the familiar rays of the red desert sun had barely come peeking past the mountain tops, when the nine escaped prisoners set out towards the ghost town.

  Their feet hauled heavy, and their eyes could barely stay open.

  During the night, Aaron had been crudely awoken three times for repeating shifts in keeping watch. Each time it felt as if Shawn’s bony knuckles had aimed to punch a hole in his calf.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Shawn said. ‘I didn’t know you were such a big woos!’

  Viper on the other hand, said she’d slept like a baby, and that her zombie-like exterior was nothing more than her natural appearance. Sam watched as she roughly scratched her initials on the inside rim of a windowsill: VS.

  ‘What does it stand for?’ Sam whispered to Melanie.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Melanie said. ‘But I doubt it stands for Viper.’

  Luke and Donny both took care of the fire. Shawn had ordered them to do so. They obediently smothered it with sand, erasing all traces of ever have being there. The glowing coals hissed in chorus when covered by showering lumps of suffocating dirt.

  ‘Good.’ Shawn said. ‘The last thing we need is for the crow to be able to track us.’

  * * *

  ‘You know, staring isn’t going to help.’ Melanie uttered, trudging beside Aaron. The blazing sun had barely risen in the east, and already there were glistening beads of sweat resting on her scarlet hairline.