by Amy Braun
I turned with the marauders, grabbing Sawyer’s hand and pulling him with me. Pulled back from our shock, the four of us ran as fast as we could. I took the lead, moving on instinct and memory. The Hellions would chase us until dawn, and perhaps even after that. We had to make a quick escape, and I didn’t want to risk using a flashbang in case the Hellions split up to hunt us.
They hissed and shrieked behind us, their screams even more piercing now that their masks were removed. I dashed between the narrower piles of garbage, hoping the Hellions would have a more difficult time chasing us. Their speed was unnatural and they could track our scents. We were tired and injured. On foot, there was no way we could outrun them.
Think think think there must be something we can use some place to hide–
But nothing came to mind as we pushed ourselves, but soon the largest garage in the Junkyard was in sight. The moment I set eyes on the crudely built metal shack, I pumped my legs faster. I got ahead of the marauders, grateful that the garage’s door was open. If nothing else, it would give us somewhere to hide. I raced inside, seeing the large piece of rusted metal lying in the center of the shed.
“Hey,” Nash said, sounding shocked. “Is that what I think it is?”
I took a step closer to look at the machine. I recognized the harsh lines, the corroded edges, and the dangerous spike at the front.
“It’s a Hellion skiff,” I said.
Sawyer brushed past me. His stride was quick, but stiff. “It’s a free ride.” He jumped on the back of the skiff and took a look at the controls.
“Gemma, get some gasoline from those tanks there and pour it into the side valve. Firecracker, start this thing.”
The female marauder did as she was told. Nash hurried to help her. I hesitated, but grabbed the edge of the ship and dragged myself over the edge. Dropping the bag off my shoulder, I noticed the control panel on the floor near Sawyer’s feet and grabbed a flat-headed screwdriver from my belt. “I’ve never rewired a Hellion skiff before,” I told him.
“Time to impress me,” Sawyer replied impatiently.
Biting back a response, I knelt down and quickly opened the control panel door. I stared at the wiring, which was an uncoordinated mess of black wires. There was nothing distinctive about them, no plastic color coded insulation over the wires to tell me what they did. I was nervous about toying around with them. If I rewired the wrong ones, I could do anything from disengage the autopilot to overload the engine to blow the entire vessel up. I didn’t even know where to start.
“Well?” snapped Sawyer.
I shot him a piercing glare. “Give me a minute.”
“I don’t have enough bullets to buy you minutes,” he snapped back. “You have seconds.”
He turned and set his eyes on the garage door. A screech echoed from the darkness outside. Sawyer drew his flintlock. His eyes were like burning steel.
I set my eyes on the interior again. I squinted as I examined the details. Tilted my head at their familiarity. While the wires were different colors and attached to thicker, sturdier parts, I started to recognize the design. I reached inside and felt each metal part, clasping the wires and determining how they were placed inside. As I fumbled around, I found the ignition. That meant the battery was close. I moved my hand to the left, felt my fingers brush against the terminals, and the starter wires clamped to them. The design was similar to something a human would have done. My stomach turned at the possibility of the Hellions using their human captives to construct the skiffs.
Pushing the awful thought as far from my mind as I could, I concentrated on pulling wire from under the wheel at the helm. Once I had the primary wire bundle, I took out wire strippers to remove the plastic coating on the ignition, battery, and starter wires. I quickly wrapped them together as Nash and Gemma shouted that the gas tank was full. They hurried to climb in with us just as Hellions screeched outside of the door.
“Any time, Claire,” urged Gemma. Sawyer’s hands already gripped the wheel.
I ignored her. Sawyer cursed and fired shots over my head. Gemma soon joined him. I set the wires back behind the steering gears. Finished my work, I stood up and looked at Sawyer. “Now you impress me. Fly this damn thing.”
Sawyer raised his eyebrows, then narrowed them. He clearly wasn’t used to being ordered around, but the Hellions would be on us at any second. I didn’t care what I said to him as long as he could pilot this airship. I narrowed my eyes and gave him a wicked grin.
“You do know how to fly a ship, don’t you?”
I meant it as a joke, though I had a moment of internal panic when I considered that Sawyer must have been ten years old during The Storm. It was entirely possible that he didn’t know how to navigate any kind of airship.
But then he grinned and stalked over to the wheel. He grabbed the screwdriver from my hand, took one look at the controls, found the ignition, and used the screwdriver as a key. With a simple flick of his wrist, the Hellion skiff coughed, sputtered, then roared to life. Thick black smoke churned out of the exhaust pipes, smothering the walls of the shed. Sawyer found the throttle and pushed it all the way down, nearly throwing me from my feet.
I crouched down in the skiff, staying as low as possible while Sawyer rocketed us out of the garage. The skiff was fairly large, banging against the edges of the door. Metal screeched and sparks flew, but we made it out on a tail of smoke. My hair whipped behind me as Sawyer lifted the skiff aboveground, forcing me to cling onto the edge of the ship.
I risked a glance over the ledge, needing to see how far away the Hellions were. They were only steps away from the garage, but soon became fading dots in the sand. I could hear them screaming under the thundering chug of the engine, most of the Hellions turning to run back to their own skiff.
Only one of the monsters stood in place, watching us fly away. I knew that it was the large Hellion, and while I couldn’t see its face, I knew it was still smiling.
This would definitely not be the last time I saw the monster, and next time I didn’t think I would get away.
Chapter 7
Sawyer stayed close to the ground of Westraven, hugging every weaving corner so we would be harder to spot and chase if the Hellions decided to pursue us, or if the Behemoth chose to send more raiding skiffs after us. By the time we reached the ports, the night was pitch black. He brought the skiff to a low hover so Gemma and Nash could jump out and open the doors to the air hangar. I looked at Sawyer, knew I was pushing my luck, but asked him anyway.
“Why did you freeze when you saw that Hellion?”
Sawyer stood at the helm, staring blankly ahead as though he hadn’t heard a word I said. If I hadn’t looked at his hands and seen the white-knuckled grip he had on the wheel, I would have thought he was frozen.
“Sawyer?”
He still refused to look at me. The concern and amusement he had at the Junkyard was long gone. A storm was raging through his mind, tearing apart any compassion and calm he may have had earlier. The marauder looked one wrong word away from putting his fist through a wall. Or a foolish engineer who asked too many questions.
The door to the air hangar was pulled up, and Sawyer accelerated sharply. I held out my hands to balance myself. He flew the skiff into the hangar and gently lowered it onto the floor in the middle of the space. Thankfully the hangar was large enough to conceal both the Dauntless Wanderer and the stolen skiff, but it was definitely more crowded.
Sawyer killed the engine and vaulted over the side of the skiff without so much as a glance my way. I sighed and followed his lead.
“Do you think they’ll follow us?” Nash asked. He had more bruises than Sawyer, and his arm was draped protectively over Gemma’s shoulder, as though he was never going to let her go again.
“Maybe,” admitted Sawyer. “We’ll have to go on watches. If we see any skiffs coming this way, we get back on that thing and fly out. We can’t let them find the Dauntless.”
“Why not?” I asked. The three ma
rauders turned their eyes on me. I should have felt more uncomfortable under their stares, especially since they now had a pretty good idea of who I was, but I saved their lives. Unconventionally, perhaps, but I was hoping they had some kind of gratitude for helping them when I could have run.
Though if they did, I couldn’t tell.
“Because the Dauntless is my ship,” Sawyer snapped. “I won’t risk it being seen. There’s been too much of that going on as far as you’re concerned.”
“I wasn’t seen when I was coming up with a way to save you,” I shot back.
“Sorry,” he said bitterly. “I must have forgotten that when you were getting beaten. After you signaled the Hellions, of course.”
I balled my fists and glared at him. Anger swelled in my chest. Could he really be that ungrateful?
“Right, because taking my time and coming up with a more cautious plan on such limited time would have ended well for you. It never occurred to me that you might have a plan that involved being torn limb from limb. Please share the details.”
Sawyer’s tawny eyes blazed. “You could have been caught or killed. Then what? We still might have died, and you’d be no closer to saving your sister.”
Forcing me to think about Abby still trapped in the Behemoth was a low, painful blow, designed to tame me. It didn’t work.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing luck was on my side. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here now to yell at me.”
Sawyer grimaced, as if he suddenly realized the gravity of his words, then hardened his expression. “You really must be their daughter. Everything I heard about them said they were stubborn. And possibly insane.”
Now I froze. I was so used to defending myself against my parents’ actions– or lack of– that I didn’t think hearing it from someone else could hurt anymore. Sawyer surprised me again, in a way I didn’t like.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned, feeling my clenched fists begin to shake. “You don’t know anything about them. Or me.”
He crossed his arms, smug and furious at the same time. “So it’s true. You’re Deanna and Joel Abernathy’s daughter.”
I wanted to avoid this conversation at all costs, not wanting to risk the consequences of admitting I was the child of the two engineers who failed Westraven when they were needed most. I was shunned or despised by everyone who knew that truth, blamed for something I couldn’t control. I shouldn’t have been blacklisted for something I had no chance of understanding. I’d been eight years old when The Storm began. What could an eight year old girl do in the face of a threat like the Hellions?
“What difference does that make?” I asked, barely able to keep the tremor out of my voice. “They tried, they failed. It’s too late to go back and change things. I don’t want to try what they did. I don’t even know what the Hellions could possibly want with me.”
“So you don’t have that key with you?” Sawyer wasn’t asking.
I kept my fists balled, eyes fixed on the captain, and tried not to think about the two marauders closing in on my back. I had no intention of showing the marauders where the key was. There was no telling what they would do with it.
“I don’t see how it’s your business.”
Sawyer took a step closer. My heart thundered in my chest.
“You’re the one the Hellions are looking for. I’m not going to play stupid and think there’s some other poor bastard out there who has famous engineering parents and some magic key. My ship and my crew are all at risk because of you. Give me the key.”
He towered over me, rage burning in his eyes. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t step away.
“No.”
Sawyer’s temper rose. He looked ready to explode. “I really don’t want to hurt you, Claire.”
Fear cut through my courage. I wasn’t a fighter. Definitely not a killer. Even if I were, I stood no chance against three marauders whose lives revolved around violence. They would beat the life from me then take the key, probably dumping my body in a ditch far away from their port.
“I don’t know what it’s for. I don’t care, either. And if I don’t know, you don’t have a chance at using it.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sawyer said flatly.
The last of my control snapped. I placed both hands on Sawyer’s chest and shoved him as hard as I could. Despite his bigger, taller, stronger frame, I was still able to move him back a couple feet.
“You think your opinion matters to me?! My sister is a hostage! She could be getting tortured or drained as we speak! I care about that stupid key like I care about the junk piles we just left behind!” I lowered my voice, though my heart rate refused to slow down. “This doesn’t have to change anything. I’m not asking you to trust me beyond what I’ve asked. Once I have Abby back, you’ll never see me again. The Hellions, the key, that Vesper they mentioned… they will all be my problem. But don’t hold the past over my head. I wouldn’t hold it over you.”
All the animosity began to fade from Sawyer’s eyes. They became distant, tired, as if an unwanted memory was beginning to surface. He stared at me without seeing me. I didn’t regret my words or try to take them back, but it hadn’t been my intention to cause him pain. As irrational as it was, a small part of me wanted to trust him. Not as just another half of a deal. He was closed off and stubborn at times, then noble and playful at others. He valued the lives of his friends and had dreams of returning to the skies. Sawyer was a puzzle I doubted I would ever solve, but I still wondered how the pieces fit together.
“We’re not backing out of the deal,” Gemma whispered. Sawyer snapped his head at her, glaring menacingly. She was completely immune to his surliness. “What? Do you know anything about building a power core? ’Cause I sure as hell don’t.”
“That, and we don’t know anyone else who can make a weapon like her Volt thing,” added Nash. “We use that against the Hellions, and nobody will care who we were related to.”
Nash’s gaze lingered on Sawyer. Unspoken words passed between them, and I wondered how long they’d known each other and what they’d been through to gauge their reactions so well.
“Nash, you take the first watch. Make sure the Hellions don’t come near us. Gemma will take the next shift.” His eyes cut to me. “Do you know what you need from the substation? That is the next step, right?”
I nodded, surprised that he was folding. Wondered why he was doing so.
“Okay. Everyone but Nash, get some sleep. Especially you, Firecracker.”
I scowled at him. “I told you, not–”
“Not to call you that, I know.” A slow, roguish smirk returned to Sawyer’s face. It didn’t reach his eyes. “But after tonight, you have to admit that it stands.”
***
A few hours later, I had eaten, washed, changed into some of Gemma’s loaned clothes, and was lying on a somewhat comfortable pallet with a patchy blanket over top of me. I should have been able to sleep, but all I did was lie on my back and stare at the ceiling, toying with the key hanging around my neck.
My thoughts were a mess. I was conflicted about Sawyer, curious about my mother, disturbed that the Hellions were looking for me, and no closer to understanding what the key opened or did.
But mostly I was worried about Abby. It had been almost three days since she was captured. I’d never been away from her this long before. Anything could have happened in those three days. Was she getting water and food? Was she cold? Scared? Did she still think I was coming for her? Or had Abby given up?
Was she even still alive?
No. She is alive. You can’t think anything else. Not even for a second.
I’d told her that was the one thing she could never do– give up. I would always find a way to protect her, give her the best life that I could.
But you didn’t. She was taken by the worst creatures imaginable, because you weren’t enough. This is your fault. Your best case scenario is finding Abby and having her hate you. The worst is that she can’t
hate you, because she’s dead.
The pain in my heart seemed to triple, and I barely held back the sob building in my throat. I closed my eyes and sent out a silent prayer.
Please don’t give up, Abby. I’ll save you, I swear. Hate me all you want. Just please don’t give up.
My heart squeezed again. I clutched the blanket tight to my chest. As much as I tried to be the strong one, the truth was that I needed Abby to remind me that there was still good in this world. I needed her playful laugh and wide smile so I remembered what they looked like without malice. I needed her hugs and sugary smelling hair to know that hope and love still existed. When I was younger and unsure about what to do or missing my mother and father, I would often break down into tears. Abby would see, and I would tell her that nothing was wrong. I would tell her to get some sleep, and that things would be fine in the morning. Then I would cry again.
