Forsaken (The Forgotten Book 2)

by M. R. Forbes

  “I don’t like it,” Hayden decided. He scanned the street, finding an alley nearby. “In there.”

  They hurried to the alley, ducking between the remains of two buildings, across the street from “Broken Sword.” The noise continued to increase in volume until three vehicles pulled into the street in front of them, coming to a stop outside the building.

  “Shit,” Chains said. “I hate that you were right.”

  “Shh,” Hayden replied. “Wait.”

  The doors of the cars opened. Twelve Scrappers poured out, led by a heavyset man in a dark suit.

  “A Courier,” Jake whispered.

  “Ghost?”

  “He’s not wearing white.”

  The Scrappers grouped at the back of each car. The trunks opened, and one of them at each reached in and started retrieving shotguns and revolvers, distributing them to the group. Once they were armed, they headed en masse toward the front of the building, climbing broken stone steps up toward its mangled face.

  “Where are they going?” Jake asked.

  “My delivery address was on level 2,” Chains replied. “I think whatever my mark was planning, King found out about it first.” She turned to Hayden. “We should beat it, Sheriff. Keep the explosives and move on.”

  “I don’t know,” Hayden said. “Any enemy of King’s is a friend of mine.”

  “If we start with the Scrappers here, we’re starting with them everywhere,” Chains said. “Plus we’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

  “I’ve already started with the Scrappers,” Hayden said. “It’s way too late for that.”

  “There were still guns in the trunks,” Jake said. “I saw them.”

  “I thought you were afraid to die?” Chains asked.

  “I am, but I also said I’m all in. We’re far enough outside the main run we might not get noticed, and if we can take them out, we might earn a new friend. At the very least, we’ll get some more guns.”

  “Or dead,” Chains said.

  “Who’s afraid of dying now?”

  “Who’s wearing bulletproof armor?” Chains retorted.

  The Scrappers had reached the steps. They moved cautiously into the building.

  “This isn’t a good idea, Sheriff,” Chains said.

  Hayden watched the Scrappers, trying to decide what to do. A door in the building opened, a young woman stepping out. One of the soldiers turned and fired, three quick cracks that dropped the woman to the ground and caused the rest of the group to speed up their assault.

  “She isn’t even armed,” Hayden said, a sudden, burning pit of anger in his gut.

  They had murdered an innocent person for the crime of trying to get out of her home.

  “I’m going in.”

  23

  HAYDEN SPRINTED FROM THE ALLEY, toward the trunk of the closest car. The Scrappers already in the building didn’t notice him. They were organizing around the doors in the lobby, preparing to make their way deeper inside. There was no way whoever was in there hadn’t heard the gunshots, giving them a chance to prepare for the assault. If Chains’ contact wanted explosives, it stood to reason they had guns already.

  He glanced back as he neared the trunk of the first car. Jake and Chains were behind him, heading for the other two vehicles. Jake had taken the explosives, carrying the crate with the enhanced strength of the armor and nearly keeping pace with the small woman.

  As Hayden turned his head forward again, he could see the driver’s side door of Chains’ target swing open, and a Scrapper climb out. He already had a revolver in hand, and he was swinging it toward her.

  Hayden changed direction, nearly slipping and falling when he tried to alter his course. The closer sound drew the gunman’s attention, diverting him from her. Hayden dove between the cars, three bullets pinging off the metal of the car behind him, narrowly missing his body.

  He rolled and bounced to his feet. The Scrapper was tracking him, revolver pivoting to where he was coming up.

  A chain lashed out from the end of Chains’ hand, slamming the Scrapper hard in the jaw. Hayden heard the crack, and then the man vanished beside his car.

  “Sheriff!” Jake shouted.

  Hayden turned to him in time to catch a shotgun and ammo belt the Borger had tossed his way. He balanced the ammo over his shoulder, getting the gun in position for use.

  The Scrappers inside had heard the shots behind them, and a few of the soldiers had turned back. They were rushing toward the cars now, conserving their bullets until they had a better angle on the targets.

  Hayden grabbed the door of the nearest car and swung it open, ducking behind it. He needed to get in closer to use the gun. Chains followed his lead, crouching beside him and pulling the passenger door of the adjacent car open.

  “So much for a sneak attack,” she said.

  “Where’s Jake?”

  Hayden lifted his head, scanning for him. Where had he gone?

  Bullets started to hit the car, pinging off the armor plating on the door, too close to his head. He ducked back down, waiting for the attack to stop.

  He heard a shout to his left, looking over in time to see Jake emerge from behind one of the cars, firing the shotgun nearly point blank into one of the Scrappers. The shot tore a gash into the soldier’s hip, pulling him to the ground.

  The other Scrappers adjusted to retaliate, shotguns coming into line. Hayden cursed silently, unconvinced the armor could stop the rounds from penetrating at such close range. He grabbed the top of the car door with his mechanical hand, pushing himself over it in one hop and landing beside the Scrappers. He fired the shotgun, shot ripping through them and knocking two of them down. One of them got a shot of their own off, and Jake shouted when at least one of the fragments pierced the armor.

  Hayden fired again, dropping another Scrapper. The last whirled around, leading with the shotgun. Hayden grabbed it with the mechanical hand, ripping it from the man’s grip. Then Chains was there, and she slammed him in the side of the temple with a chain.

  The group that had come back for them was down, but the fighting had only grown in intensity. Hayden found the Scrappers inside the building, having fallen back to cover when their opponents finally emerged, opening fire with simple guns of their own.

  The sound of more engines rose in pitch, echoing through the street.

  The Scrappers were sending reinforcements.

  “We need to get inside,” Hayden said. “Grab the boomsticks. Hopefully, they know we’re on their side.”

  Jake retreated to where he had left the crate, picking it up and carrying it toward the steps. Hayden sprinted ahead of him, running toward the backs of the Scrappers pinned down in the lobby at the same time he pulled two shells from the ammo belt and shoved them in the shotgun.

  The defense must have seen him because the bullets stopped coming as he approached from the rear. The Scrappers heard him then, rising to their feet and trying to turn around. He emptied the shells into them, killing his group. Then he ducked back behind the cover, reloading the weapon.

  The reinforcements reached the building, brakes complaining as the heavy cars came to a quick stop. Two dozen Scrappers piled out of four armored vans, already armed.

  “We need to get inside,” Hayden repeated, loud enough that Chains and Jake could hear. They jumped away from the cover, the defenders ahead of them adjusting their aim to give them a path to one of the doors. A woman was crouched in it, a single-shot rifle on her shoulder. She fired, grabbed a shell from beside her and reloaded, fired and reloaded again, all in the space of a few seconds.

  Hayden reached the door first, stopping to guide the others through.

  “Let’s go,” the woman said once they were in, closing the door behind them. Hayden could hear the thunk of rounds striking the door, cracking into it and through.

  They were already on the stairs by then, descending into the building’s basement.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked on the way down.

 
; “Sheriff Hayden Duke,” Hayden replied, twisting to show her the plastic badge. “No friend of King or the Scrappers.”

  “Then you’re a friend of ours,” the woman replied.

  “And who are you?” Jake asked. “I don’t recognize you.”

  “I recognize you, Borger,” she said. “My name is Callie. I work for Huston.”

  “Huston?” Jake said. “You’re kidding.”

  “Who’s Huston?” Chains asked.

  “The former Mayor of Haven,” Jake said. “He disappeared when King took over.”

  “You would too if staying meant being executed,” Callie said.

  “We’ve got your explosives,” Chains said. “I’m the Driver.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll have a chance to use them. Somebody ratted us out.”

  They reached the basement, coming up to another old door.

  “It’s Callie. Open up,” the woman said.

  The door swung open. Hayden could still hear the gunfire above them, getting closer. The Scrappers were closing in.

  They piled into a dark, musty room. Equipment was piled along the walls. Guns, knives, ammunition, and more. There were old mattresses on the floor, garbage piled into the corner. The sharp smell of urine permeated the space.

  A half-dozen men and women were gathered in the center, armed and ready to fight. Hayden didn’t expect to know any of them, but Jake recognized the man at the rear immediately.

  “Mayor Huston,” he said.

  The Mayor was a large, dark-skinned man. He smiled when he saw Jake. “I never thought I would see you down here, Jake, but I’m glad you decided to join us. Who recruited you?”

  “I didn’t decide anything,” Jake said. “Chains was bringing your delivery; we just happened to come at the wrong time.”

  The door slammed closed behind them.

  “That isn’t going to hold them,” Callie said. “Somebody ratted us out.”

  “Did we just lock ourselves in our tomb?” Chains asked.

  “Not at all,” Huston said. “Move the rug aside.”

  His soldiers stepped off a tattered old rug, grabbing it and rolling it up, revealing metal cover in the center of the floor. They returned to it, lifting it off a dark hole and dropping it to the side.

  “My intention was to start sabotaging some of King’s more valuable works. His smelter, for example,” Huston said. “These explosives were supposed to do the trick. I don’t think I’m going to get the chance.” He looked at the woman. “Callie, take Jake and his friends with you and the others. I’ll stay here and keep them from following.”

  “George,” Callie said, trying to protest.

  “Forget it. I had my chance, and it didn’t work out. If you see that bastard son of mine, tell him he killed his father. Not that he probably gives a shit. I’m sure King’s men paid him a small fortune for giving us up.”

  “It’s more likely King put a bullet in his head,” Chains said.

  A slug hit the door, followed by a few more. Then something slammed into it, threatening to force it open.

  “It isn’t going to hold for long,” Huston said. “Give me the explosives and go.”

  Jake dropped the crate in front of the older man.

  “You’ve been down here all of this time?” he asked.

  “Not the whole time,” Huston replied. “Long enough.”

  “Come on,” Callie shouted. “Grab your gear. Let’s go.”

  There were half a dozen others with them. They scrambled to the wall, picking up the equipment resting there before returning to the center of the room. They heaved their packs into the hole and started climbing down after them.

  “Where does this go?” Hayden asked.

  “There’s an old tunnel about ten meters down. It used to be part of a high-speed transportation system. We can use it to get out of the city.”

  “I can’t leave the city,” Chains said. “My car is still in Impound.”

  “It’ll be safe enough there until you can come back for it,” Jake said. “Unless you’d rather go ask if you can go out the front door?”

  “Smart-ass,” Chains said, smiling.

  Something hit the door again, beginning to dent it in. Beside them, Mayor Huston was laying the explosives out on the ground and lighting a cylinder of paper. He put it to his lips, pulling on it and then breathing out the smoke.

  “Come on, Sheriff,” Chains said, at the edge of the hole. “Time to go.”

  Hayden looked back at the door, and then at the Mayor. He moved to the hole, dropping into it and getting his feet on the first rungs. It swung beneath him, the motion putting him off-balance. He caught himself, preparing to descend.

  The door flew in, the force of a heavy blow ripping it from its hinges. Hayden expected to see a Scrapper there, but instead he was greeted with a large thing of metal, with thick legs and heavy arms attached to a steel torso. It walked toward him, into the room, the Scrapper soldiers moving in and opening fire behind it.

  Hayden dropped his feet from the ladder, keeping himself connected to it with his hands and letting himself fall. Bullets sprayed overhead, hitting Callie and cutting her down. He slid along the rope, the material cutting into his human hand, burning it and tearing it open. He hit the ground hard, looking up as the machine reached the hole and leaned over to look down at them.

  A sharp pop, and then the robot vanished in a wash of fire, the explosives going off. The ground shook above them, the backdraft flowing down the tunnel at Hayden’s face.

  “Shit,” he said, diving out of the way as the fire reached out for him.

  It was gone just as quickly, replaced with stone and dirt. The building and ground continued to shake, the Broken Sword collapsing further above them. A hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to his feet.

  “Are you okay, Sheriff?” Jake asked.

  “Okay enough,” he replied. Now that the light from above was gone, he couldn’t see a thing.

  Someone ahead of them turned on a flashlight, revealing the area in a tight beam. They were in a small, perfectly round tunnel that stretched out of sight in both directions.

  “Is everyone okay?” the man with the flashlight asked.

  “Fine,” Chains said, though she had a bleeding cut on her arm. “I’ve had worse.”

  “I’m okay,” Hayden said, looking at his bleeding hand.

  “We can’t linger here. We need to go.”

  “We were supposed to head south,” one of the others, a woman, said.

  The flashlight shifted, showing the collapse above had come down the tunnel and blocked the passage heading that direction.

  “It looks like we have to go north,” the man said. “Come on.”

  Huston’s people started moving. Hayden didn’t hesitate to follow.

  “Do you remember what I said about trying to help every person you came across, Sheriff?” Chains said.

  “Yes,” Hayden replied.

  She waved her arms as if to say “this is all your fault.”

  “Don’t forget who took the job to deliver the explosives. And don’t forget who made you late. If Jake and I hadn’t been here, you might be dead right now.”

  “Why do I have the feeling that might have been a more preferable option?”

  24

  NATALIA SAT on the edge of the bed, staring straight ahead, trying to think of some way out of her predicament.

  Ghost was gone. He hadn’t made it into the bunker with the rest of the Scrapper convoy, effectively proving with ultimate finality that his delusions of being a god were just that, and leaving her trapped alone with Oversergeant Grimly and his crew.

  The Oversergeant hadn’t done anything to her yet, but there was no part of her that felt comfortable he wouldn’t. He had passed her off to Mable with orders to bring her to King’s quarters. That’s what the driver had done, and that’s where Natalia had been for the last four hours.

  A soldier had stopped by earlier, delivering a hot meal of stew with c
hunks of meat in it. Natalia had smelled it, remembered Pig’s proclivity for human meat, and dumped it in the toilet, along with what little she was able to vomit up. Then she had put herself in her current position. Waiting for the moment she was sure would come.

  She had no idea what was happening in the bunker beyond the suite. The walls were thick here, the door a heavy slab of steel that slammed open and closed after squealing on a track that desperately needed lubrication. Very little sound was able to penetrate, which she supposed was probably more to keep the inside in than the outside out. Judging by the overly plush nature of the suite and the hint of a smell that seemed to linger within it, the leader of the Scrappers used the space most often to sleep and have sex, though with who, what, or how many she had no idea. And she didn’t want to know.

  She drew in a strong breath and closed her eyes again. Every time she did, all she saw were the trife, charging toward the transport, killing soldiers. It didn’t matter that they were Scrappers. They were still human. Watching them cut down by the aliens was hard for her to reconcile. She knew she needed to. She had to adjust to this world and all of its realities if she was going to survive long enough to assassinate King.

  At least Ghost had been taken care of. If Grimly did attack her, she would survive, and despite his size, she was certain he was the less powerful of the two men. Ghost had gotten unlucky, Grimly the opposite. The outcome would benefit her in the long run.

  It had to. It was the only way she could stay strong. The only way she could accept what she knew was coming. She had to stay alive. She had to keep fighting and not give in. For Hayden’s sake. She owed him their revenge.

  She opened her eyes when someone knocked on the door. The pounding only barely made it through the thick metal, but she heard it all the same. She stood up as the door started to slide open, howling along its dry tracks and pausing halfway.

  Oversergeant Grimly entered, with Undersergeant Pine and Mable trailing behind him.

  What was this?

  “Hey, sweetie,” Grimly said with a crooked smile. “Mind if we join you?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Natalia replied.