Liberated (The Sinners Series Book 3)

by Abi Ketner

Tears blind me as I rush for the door. Her sobs echo in the space between us, and I run to meet my team. I wipe my face with my clenched fists, determined to end this, because I want nothing more than time—time to repair all that I’ve lost.

  My team of eight, nine including me, waits just outside. If they notice my distress, no one says anything. I steady myself on the door, inhaling a breath of air before saying anything. I have to lead them, regardless of my personal turmoil. Their eager stares meet mine, the expectation of the coming battle fresh on their faces. They’re suited up with weapons and supplies. They’ve come prepared, and I must prepare myself now as well.

  “Tonight, we hunker down,” I say in a steely voice. “At dawn, we attack.”

  “Hoorah!” they yell in unison, pumping their fists.

  My group takes turns on guard duty all night. We crossed the main drag through the Hole, hunkering down on the opposite side, facing the Rainbow District. The roads on this side are gridded and more easily navigated. I posted two snipers on the top floor, while we’ve made an overnight camp on the ground floor. Two more guards do rotation down here.

  I volunteer for the last round of guard duty and peek outside the doorway on the bottom floor, where I have a clear view of the unused gate. It’s easy to see how people would forget it’s there. Unlike the main gate, this one slides open, so there are no hinges. It blends right in with the slate-gray blocks of the wall, the opening barely distinguishable with the vines crawling up the sides, covering sections of blocks. In front of it, Sinners have constructed huts that stack against each other like dusty, faded books on a shelf. Whether that was facilitated by the guards or not, it’s definitely made it harder to spot.

  I lean back inside, gleaning the mood of the foreign faces that surround me. The other watch person sits up straight, finger next to the trigger of her gun at all times. Our supplies lie in the midst of the others’ sleeping bodies, homemade bombs and cocktails sitting in the middle. Some of them snore, and others breathe deep. Good. They’ll need their energy.

  Across the street, Cole’s team waits. Levi is in his group. Cole chose him because he knew Levi wouldn’t stick to the plan otherwise. So he took a risk for our sakes. The last thing we need is for Levi to conjure up ideas in the others and have them break away. When I lean against the wall, I’m jittery. The only ones I trust are Cole, Bruno, and Zeus, and they aren’t working by my side this time. It’s just me. So, it’s up to me to buckle up and be the driving force behind this group.

  Further down, Genesis’s team also hunches down for the main attack. Bruno leads a backup team along with two other teams handpicked by Genesis. My mom and Owen are staying in a safe house with others who aren’t meant to fight. I don’t allow myself to think about my conversation with her, even when watch seems monotonous and long. I’ve learned that bad things happen when you’re least expecting them, and I can’t afford to be distracted. This will work. This has to work.

  A team member notifies me of the hour, and I squint in the direction of Cole’s team, waiting for the signal. It won’t be long now. I shake out my shoulders, willing them to relax, but then I see it.

  Cole uses a flashing light to signal it’s time to rouse the troops. I wake everyone up, carefully shaking them so I don’t end up with a knife at my throat. They rise quickly, used to the constant interruption of sleep in the Hole.

  “Here we go,” I whisper to them.

  Adrenaline zips through me at lightning speed. My snipers upstairs carefully disguise the windows to keep prying eyes from discovering them. I’m locked and loaded, since we’re the team to give the first hit. The others line up behind me, pressing their backs against the wall while we wait.

  It’s all a game of patience, I’ve learned. No matter how well you plan, something will always change, and you have to learn to adjust on the fly. I motion for my team to be silent. It’s dark. Like usual, screams fill the night. Screams of hunger, dying, and hell.

  And then the gate groans.

  Slowly, inch by inch, the gate moves, sending tremors through our building. The stomping of boots approaches fast as a group of guards line the top of the wall, angling their guns downward.

  Looks like Genesis’s source was credible after all.

  Huts begin collapsing in front of the gate, the shredding of material and snapping of thin wooden sticks filling the air. The wall slides further open with a sound like thunder rolling. Not a very secretive entrance, now is it, morons?

  Confused Sinners yell and run as their shacks disappear. The guards count on the confusion of the Sinners to keep them from unifying and pick off the ones slow to move. Green and red tracers mark the guards’ positions.

  I motion to my team. They’re here.

  Their pupils gleam in the darkness. Focused. Aware. Tense.

  The wall slides the open all the way, and multiple guards filter into the entryway, checking for suspicious movement. I count twenty on one side alone. The person beside me tenses like a cat waiting to pounce.

  The grumbling of the wall stops, and a new sound takes its place. The creaking of metal against metal sends my heartbeat racing. I know that sound all too well.

  Soon enough, the rattling becomes a silhouette, which then becomes a huge, sand-colored tank. It trundles through the gate, and a three-vehicle convoy enters behind it. The guards surround the convoy on two sides. They keep their guns close, and their heads pivot, always alert. Bringing up the caboose is another tank.

  Damn. I grimace. We don’t have half the firepower the guards display. Two tanks? I only expected one, and judging from what Genesis said, so did she. I go back through everything I learned about tanks in training with Keegan. If you’re going to attack one, always come from the rear. Try to get a mobility kill by disabling the track if possible or aim a cocktail at the engine deck. That means getting in close. But if they see us, the game’s up. Our hope of using surprise to our advantage seem very small now. I say a silent prayer. For my father, for my family, for Sutton, and for the ones who can’t fight back. Give us this victory.

  As calmly as I can, I put my gun into my waistband and pick up a Molotov cocktail made by Genesis’s people. They swear these are the best ones they’ve ever made. I’ve never used one and have no idea where they found the materials, but I didn’t ask. We need everything we can get our hands on to take the convoy. I just don’t want to turn into a pink mist of blood before getting it to the tank.

  My palms sweat. My muscles tighten. I glance at my team, knowing they’re waiting and watching me with anxious expressions as I grip the cocktail.

  “Plan B,” I whisper and gesture for them to cover me. Questions are apparent on their faces, but I don’t give them time to ask them.

  “Trust me,” I say. Bending down, I look for a lighter, and one of my team members hands one to me. I nod my thanks and turn toward the approaching convoy.

  The first tank is close. A single droplet of sweat slides between my shoulder blades. My hands tremble the slightest bit, but I steel myself for the change in plans. If we want to take the convoy, we must disable the tanks. Both of them. And there’s no room for error.

  I perch in the doorway, hidden by the shadows. My teammates begin picking which guards to hit. The guards march past so close that I inhale the scent of their sweat-crusted uniforms. I’m able to make out the communications over their coms and their breaths as they march, loaded down with heavy equipment.

  This is it.

  I gesture to my teammates one more time. One’s mouth falls open, and another holds on to his gun for dear life.

  Then I light the rag and venture into the darkness.

  The sky lights up around me, setting off a storm of hellfire from all sides. The cocktail burns in my hand as I get closer to the tank. My breaths burst from my lungs as the guards close in. The tank’s five feet away from me, but it might as well be fifty. Everything around me seems like it’s come to a halt as my legs drag like dead weights. I lock on to my target. And the guar
ds scramble.

  I toss the Molotov cocktail gently so as not to overthrow my target. It flames through the air, landing with a thump. I sprint away. Looking over my shoulder, I watch as it flares up on the engine deck. Fire licks the tank, exploding upward in bright orange and red. The tank doesn’t slow down, though. In fact, it speeds up, the turret rotating to face the building I was just in.

  “Move out!” I scream, barreling away.

  I slam into something hard like brick and bounce backward. A guard stands over me, his face as shocked as mine.

  Shit! I’m done!

  He points his gun, but he’s hit before he can pull the trigger. I scramble to my feet, half dazed. The street’s turned into a full-blown war zone. My sniper’s guns bang away from above me, slamming into bodies. They take out the gunner on the tank, thankfully.

  My team has followed me into the foray, engaging guards. We attack with precision and focus. One of my teammates throws another cocktail at the tank and flames shoot into the sky like a fireball. The other watch girl tosses a cocktail onto the tank engine deck, placing it where I couldn’t, and it explodes with sparks.

  The tank crew opens the top hatch, and smoke pours out. They cough and gasp for air as they collapse, and snipers pick them off one by one. The guards on foot begin throwing grenades into buildings. They gather around the convoy of trucks behind the first struggling tank, attempting to regroup.

  Don’t let them get past us.

  Cole’s team joins us in the street. Relief washes over his face when he sees me. His group fires rounds into the guards. Spitting bullets, shouting, and fire hissing upward engulf us in a tunnel of smoke. It looks like we’re winning, but then the second tank opens fire. The shells slam into the building where Cole’s team was hiding, crushing it with a sound like thunder. Dust poofs into the sky, coating everything in a layer of dust that looks like dirty snow. The turret rotates, aiming where I stand, blowing away the building behind me and taking my snipers with it. I fall on my face and knees, wobbly from the percussion, my ears ringing.

  Chunks of cement land among us; one smaller piece must land on my back because I plummet down. It aches, like a bruise is already forming. I rub my eyes, shake it off, and pull myself up, but not before I watch the first truck in the convoy rumble past. The second tank blew an opening for it, and the driver rolls over everything in its way. Even bodies.

  Through the early-morning haze and the shower of dust and smoke, I spot Cole. He’s on his knees, struggling to get up. I sprint to him and pull him into a standing position. No words can express how relieved I am to see him alive and moving. He wears a dazed expression, like he’s been hit one too many times in a boxing match. Miraculously, Zeus appears at my side. They’re all wrong, Zeus. It’s you who has nine lives. Not cats.

  The second truck carrying supplies rumbles past, and I tug Cole out of the way. He shakes his head and focuses on my face.

  “You all right?” I shout.

  “Sure,” he mouths. I read his lips and can’t help finding his words ironic. He was almost blown away by a tank, and all he can say is sure.

  “We have to get out of here!” I shout.

  I attempt to gather my team, but I count only four people left. Panic ensues. The gate slides closed and locks into place with a thunderous noise. The huts in front of it are left in shambles on the ground. Shell casings litter the street, clinking under my feet. I lost half my team already, and we’re not even close to achieving what we set out to do. I pull my gun out, holding it ready in my hand. There are only twelve bullets left in it. After that, I’ll whip out my knife in a last-ditch effort. But I hope it doesn’t come to that.

  Fire, like soft whispers, creeps across the street. Black smoke drifts into the air. The third truck flies through it but hits rubble and jerks to a stop. I shoot at the driver, and his face winces, but he steels himself and punches the gas. My bullet barely put a dent in the window.

  A figure hops out of the back and runs toward me hollering. I duck away and jump on the side of the truck. Dangling off the side, I try with all my might to punch through the glass with the hilt of my gun, but I can’t. It’s too thick. The driver’s face contorts in anger. He shouts profanities, but I can’t hear over the engine. He slams on the brake, and then accelerates, throwing me off. I land on my back with a groan and pound the dirt with my fists.

  “Crap,” I growl.

  “Go, go, go!” Cole shouts at me.

  Just as I turn my head, the second tank speeds past. The gunner on top aims for me with his fifty-caliber machine gun, but someone slams on top of me, and when I look again, all I see is the tank pulling away, the gunner giving me the middle finger.

  Take that finger and shove it. Still buried under the weight of a larger body, I roll the person off me. My hands go to my head, making sure it’s still there, that I’m intact. The tank becomes a dot far down the street, leaving behind a footprint of destruction. Hopelessness fills me and then worry.

  “We need to help Bruno and Genesis,” I say. I yank on Cole’s shirt, but he’s standing there with his mouth hanging open and his hands on his head. Zeus barks and dances, but Cole’s gaze goes directly past me. I shake him. “What’s wrong with you?” He closes his eyes and then opens them twice. Then he points over my shoulder.

  “I swear I’m seeing dead people,” he says. I turn around, frustrated, the urgency of the battle weighing heavily on my shoulders.

  “Who the hell are you—”

  My voice catches in my throat and freezes my words with it. I stop in my tracks.

  The figure on the ground, the one I pushed off me, stands. Peeking through his scraggly beard is a toothy grin, the kind of grin that never leaves your memory. His expression says, “Surprise!” as he waits for it to register.

  Bloody hell! It can’t be!

  “Holy crackers, Bill?” I rush him, bulldozing him back to the ground. He cackles and groans all at once. “H-how are you? How d-did you?” I stutter. “You’re alive?” Tears of joy splash his face when I blink, going from one extreme emotion to the other.

  “Well, hello, Lusty, love of my life. I’m happy to see you too,” he grunts. I heave him up, still awash in happy, salty, sweaty tears, and grip his shoulders. I admit I missed his stale alcohol breath, and I notice he’s thinner than he used to be, but I am so thrilled, I don’t care. I want to hug him again and again. Even Zeus barks and jumps around him.

  “Bill?” Cole says with disbelief.

  “The one and only.” Bill throws his arms around Cole as Cole pats his back, like he’s making sure he’s not a ghost.

  “Roméo?” I ask.

  “Fried. Like a shish kabob. Nastiest thing I’ve ever smelled.”

  I cringe and wrinkle my nose, remembering the last time I saw them both. They were driving the beat up car through the front gate, attempting to get the medical records out. Bill was screaming, Roméo was shot while Bill managed to get them free, only to be blown up by the guards. I will never forget the sight of the car smoldering in the distance and all my hopes with it. “How did you not blow up? I watched the car explode.”

  “I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, so I flew out like a rocket.”

  I can’t help laughing out loud. What a typical answer, coming from him. “I never thought I’d say this, Crazy Bill, but I missed you. Where on earth did you just come from?”

  “The truck.” He gives me a goofy grin, and I wonder if all his brain cells are still working. Of course, I’ve wondered that from the beginning. “I snuck in like a snake.”

  I laugh even as the streets burn and bodies lie around us and we’ve lost the convoy.

  “We could use your ninja skills right now,” Cole says.

  “I’m afraid it’s too late,” Crazy Bill says, nodding after the convoy. His eyebrows crease together, pulling downward in concentration.

  I peek over his shoulder and watch as the trucks rumble past where Bruno and Genesis’s teams were supposed to be stationed. Smoke bill
ows up past the buildings, and the sound of shooting fades quickly. “Something’s wrong,” I say. “There’s no sign of the others.”

  “Others?” Bill asks.

  “We made an alliance with a group of Sinners.”

  “Never a dull moment,” Bill says. “I should call you Lusty Too Trusty.”

  “First thing’s first, we need to locate the other groups,” Cole says, putting his arm around Bill. “Then we’ll pound you with questions.”

  “Yes, no, maybe,” Bill replies, removing a bottle from his pocket and taking a swig from it. The sight makes me grin. “Those are my answers.”

  I claim Bill’s arm and lug him with me as we head back to the safe house where my mom and Owen are hiding—the plan was to meet the other teams there after the assault. But soon, I see a plume of black smoke rising into the sky from the direction of the house. Panic zips through me. My heartbeat quickens.

  When we arrive, there’s nothing but the charred frame of a house.

  “Genesis? Bruno?” I shout. But no one, not a soul, answers. “Mom? Owen?”

  Cole and Bill frantically barge through the still-standing doorway, Zeus on their heels. Smoke billows out, and they begin coughing and covering their faces. My eyes water. I pull my shirt over my nose and plow through the smoke, searching the inside for my mom and Owen.

  Something—or someone—bumps into me, and I grab on to it. Whoever it is sputters, and I can’t tell what they’re saying. I drag the person outside, both of us bending over to suck in air.

  “Where is she?” I gasp.

  The other person, a man, lies down on the gravel. “I don’t know. It happened so fast,” he says in a raspy voice.

  “Who?” I ask. A sour taste coats my mouth as my stomach clenches, but I don’t throw up.

  “Guards,” he replies.

  “Did they take her?” I ask.

  “No clue.”

  I draw more air and rush back inside, but the smoke’s overpowering and I have to get out again. Cole and Bill aren’t there. Zeus saunters out holding a backpack that belonged to my mom, and terror threatens to burn me alive.