Uprising

by J. Thorn

  I shot a glance toward Wyllow and Kora, but neither of them said a word. I was still contemplating the man’s offer when two children, a boy and a girl who both looked to be in their early teens raced up behind him, their forearms branded with numbers. The same, unmistakable marks that had been scorched into our skin.

  The girl’s eyes shone like burning copper as she gazed at us, her short-cropped hair curling at her collar.

  “Who’s this, Hersten?”

  “Don’t know. We ain’t been introduced yet.”

  The girl walked up to me. “Hey. My name’s Skye and this here’s Ender—but he don’t say a whole lot.” She pointed at the boy. “Hersten bought us from the slave auction, but he’s good; you can trust him.”

  The boy’s dark gaze scanned our prison numbers and his eyes went from Hersten to Zeus. “And this here is Zeus,” Ender said without looking up.

  “And you?” Hersten asked.

  “Rayna. This is Wyllow, and Kora. We—”

  “Escaped from the prison. I know. Word travels like dust in the wind out here. No resistance.”

  Hersten didn’t seem at all concerned that he stood in the presence of three women who had been imprisoned, who could have been desperate enough to cut his throat for an ounce of flour.

  “You want a meal and a few night’s rest or not?” Hersten looked down at his dog before continuing. “Zeus ain’t so charmed by most of the people traveling this road. We best be getting off it.”

  The knot in my gut uncoiled and I didn’t even bother to look at Wyllow or Kora. I smiled at Skye.

  “We’d love that. Thank you.”

  28

  The air burned my lungs as the sand blasted my face like tiny shards of glass. Salt caked the hairs on my arms, my tongue like sandpaper. I longed for some fresh water. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my jaw closed while wiping the sweat away before it could sting my eyes. We’d been following Hersten and his family for some time, but now that he’d steered the cart off-road and taken a path that was nothing but wheel ruts, I couldn’t suppress my curiosity. Where was this place? What did he have there?

  I shielded my eyes and peered across the empty wasteland, seeing nothing but massive towers of red rock burning orange under the setting sun. Their steep walls had seemed to emerge from nowhere like the great, jagged teeth of a primeval monster. I couldn’t help but admire their primitive beauty despite my nagging anxiety about Hersten and my sore, aching muscles.

  When his cart finally came to a stop, I looked away from the majestic formations and noticed a round, concrete opening tucked beneath a twisted mound of long-bladed shrubs, the kind of thing you’d trip over and not even see.

  I dismounted my horse with a firm grimace, not used to riding and surprised at how much my butt hurt. I rubbed my behind while Kora and Wyllow slid to the ground with ease.

  Wyllow cast a wry grin at me. “Anything I can help with?”

  I scowled as I turned away from her, lumbering toward Hersten and the cart. The old man and the kids had begun to unload their cart. I grabbed an old sack of supplies and placed it near the small pile they had made near the concrete opening covered by a steel hatch.

  “You live in the middle of nowhere, in the ground?”

  His crooked teeth gleamed as he smiled and unloaded his haul.

  “Been living in this old silo with my family. We try and help as many kids from the prison as we can. Escapees come by from time to time, and I go to the auctions when resources allow.” He clutched at his back as he dropped a sack of goods. When he looked at me again, the wrinkles on his face deepened and he chuckled softly. “This body of mine ain’t keeping up with the youth of my mind.”

  I grinned and patted my butt.

  “Neither is mine.”

  He laughed as his pale gaze spread to the escarpments beyond me.

  “Would ya look at that? I haven’t seen one of those out here for decades.”

  I spun around to catch sight of an eagle gliding over the desert, the fire-sky scorched a backdrop of deep orange as the sun fell on the western horizon. I couldn’t take my eyes off the bird, even when Hersten’s voice rasped in my ear.

  “That bird is free.”

  I nodded as the eagle flew higher and disappeared behind the red rock towers.

  We exchanged a silent grin, and for some reason I felt like the old man understood why the eagle was there. Sometimes words couldn’t convey feelings in the depth of your heart, and sometimes there weren’t enough words to even try.

  The silo door creaked open; Skye had unlocked the hatch and swung it outward. Voices carried up a flight of steel steps. That’s when I heard him, and it was the best thing I’d heard for some time.

  “Rayna?”

  My eyes widened.

  “Baylock!”

  He stood at the top of the steps with his fists jammed into his pockets, but his vivid blue eyes sparkled.

  “I can’t believe it’s you.”

  It took a minute for my mind to catch up, but then I leaned in and gave him a fast hug before standing back and examining him from head to toe.

  “I thought I’d never see you again. How are the twins? Alaric and Thisbe? Are they here?”

  His face darkened, and his lips trembled as he shook his head. “They were sold off at a slave market and the buyer took them home, somewhere east of the Seattle ruins. After that, I escaped with a band of nomads heading east when I crossed paths with Hersten in the desert. He promised me a horse for three months of work and that was my plan for going home and getting my brothers back.” He stood up straight and thrust his shoulders back. “I’m going to find my brothers. I need to find them.”

  I looked at my boots and began to gnaw on my bottom lip. It all came rushing back. I felt responsible for the fate of Baylock and the twins. This was a fight I had started, and they had become collateral damage. I took a breath and levelled my eyes on him, clasping both his hands.

  “I’m sorry about the twins. We’re going back home, too, but first we’re stopping at Kora’s village. She says they might help us fight Corvus. You can come with us if you want to?” I searched his face for some indication of what he was thinking, but saw nothing but a hardness in his eyes. “I swear to you, we’ll look for the twins on our way to take down Corvus.”

  He nodded at me, a small smile drifting across his face as Hersten walked up, clearing his throat and pulling at his goatee.

  “We best be getting the horses stabled first and then head inside for some dinner and rest. The desert night brings out all sorts of nasties.”

  I wasn’t about to argue that. Kora, Wyllow, and I followed them down the steel staircase and into the silo where we’d bunker down for the night.

  29

  I awoke with a start, gasping for air as a hand pressed over my mouth and against my nose. My eyes adjusted and I saw forms moving about the room while words trickled into my ear like cold water. I blinked, recognizing Baylock hovering over me as I sat up, my mind focusing.

  “Shhh.” He removed his hand from my mouth and pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “Guards and slavers are here.”

  I gasped, stealing a glance at Kora and Wyllow. My stomach lurched and I felt my heart racing. The other kids stood near the girls, waking them as Baylock had awoken me. They had two candles burning, which fought off the darkness but cast shadows on the walls that made me shiver.

  The sound of men’s voices reverberated down the cylindrical, concrete walls under the ground, while a series of booms shook dust from the ceiling as they thumped against the outside hatch. I looked at Baylock for answers, my eyes as wide as my gaping jaw while I contemplated our situation.

  Was there another way out of this underground bunker?

  Baylock leaned in, his eyes looking up as he whispered. “There’s a hidden room. Hurry.”

  We followed Baylock and the other kids as they crept to the rear of the room, where we stopped and waited for him to move aside an old chest of drawers. He fumb
led along the wall until his fingers unlatched a hidden bolt. The boy crouched down, his red hair fiery in the candlelight as he pulled open a small hatch concealing a tunnel. It looked as though it might have been a pipe that had been covered with a door from a piece of machinery left to rot in the desert.

  He motioned to me while the guards banged faster and louder against the hatch at the surface.

  “The tunnel leads to a hidden space. We don’t have much time.”

  Baylock went in first and reached back for Kora. Wyllow and I followed, but Skye stayed in the room. She looked at the ceiling again before looking at me.

  “Stay quiet until I come back for you.”

  She shut the hatch behind us then, the sound of the bolt sliding into the hasp and the scraping of the drawers across the floor the last thing we heard before the banging on the main hatch stopped. Without another word, Baylock led us to the hidden room.

  30

  I sat on the floor, folding my legs beneath me. My fingers fidgeted in my lap as I heard the main hatch open. Hersten must have allowed the guards and slavers into the silo, hoping that we’d all made it into the hidden room already.

  Thumps and footsteps sounded from above, but it was difficult to tell how many people had come to the silo. I estimated at least five or six men, and I was pretty sure I knew why they were there.

  “Been a riot. Some property got out. Three. Have you seen them?”

  The voices carried down a narrow, copper pipe that had probably carried water at one time. Now, it fed our hidden room with musty but breathable air and the conversation happening inside the silo.

  Hersten didn’t hesitate. “No. Can’t say as I have; just got back from a supply run to Reno with my own. Ain’t seen nobody on the road.”

  “Nobody? We seen lots of tracks. Probably more than just your cart.”

  “My damn dog. He never listens. Always running back and forth, leaping up on the horses. Sure that ain’t what you seen?”

  A second of silence felt like forever. I held my breath, my fingers now wrung so tightly together that my knuckles ached.

  “I think we know the difference between horses and dogs. But maybe you been out here so long that you don’t.”

  Another guard laughed and Hersten’s words came faster, in short staccato bursts. “I’m telling you. I ain’t seen no girls on the road.”

  “Never said they was girls.”

  The sound of feet shuffling made me hold my breath. Were they taking Hersten? Beating him? I wasn’t sure until he spoke again.

  “Girls fetch the highest prices. Just assumed only they’d be worth your time on the hunt.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Another voice came, deeper and speaking for the first time. “You’ve bought some. I guess you’d know their market value.”

  “That’s right,” Hersten said. “I have all the paperwork from the auction.”

  I heard the sound of wood scraping followed by the shuffling of paper.

  “Here. Look. I own them all, fair and square.”

  I glanced at Wyllow and Kora, the whites of their eyes wide and lucid in the glow of the candles flickering in the room. I saw the air pushing the flames around and began to worry. If they went out, would the guards smell the extinguished candle? Would they insist on searching the silo?

  “Looks legit. I guess we’ll be on our way.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the heads-up.”

  Footsteps sounded out, and I assumed the guards had headed for the door.

  “Oh, one more thing. I know you ain’t seen three girls, and that’s probably a good thing. You know why?”

  No answer came from Hersten that I could hear before the guard spoke again.

  “Because one’s wanted for murder. She’s 817 and they call her Wyllow—clean-shaven ginger with skin white as milk where the sun hasn’t scorched it red. But all the girls she’s running with, they’d cut yer throat in your sleep just to stop yer snoring.”

  Hersten spoke again, but I couldn’t make out what he said as the guards and slavers left the silo.

  Was that true? Had Wyllow killed Julyen or Feliz? Both?

  Kora stood, turning her back on us with her hands on her hips. I waited for her to say something as Baylock pressed his hand into mine.

  “They’re gone. You’re safe now.”

  I looked at him with a thin, plastic smile reserved for boys who thought they had to rescue girls. He must have forgotten what I’d had to do to get out of our Hydran village alive.

  Kora and Wyllow said nothing, their silence as heavy as the concrete silo Hersten had made his home.

  31

  “Did you hear what they said about her?” Kora asked.

  “They were bluffing. Trying to spook Hersten into giving us up.”

  I looked at Kora and gave her a terse nod. She continued talking as if Wyllow wasn’t in the room. Wyllow sat there without saying a word, watching us.

  “What if they weren’t? What if Wyllow really did it?”

  Is Wyllow a killer? Could it be possible?

  I hadn’t known her for long, but somehow, I couldn’t imagine that she possessed such a cold and ruthless streak.

  “Skye’s back,” Baylock said, interrupting our conversation, and I felt relieved not to have to continue it—at least for the time being.

  Baylock and Skye led us out of the hidden room, through the area where we’d slept and up the stairs to the main level and the hatch to the outside.

  As I climbed the stairs, I remembered something my grandfather had once told me about people. He’d said we learn the most from our relationships with others. It was the way we grew, and that was the most important thing in life—learning to love and express ourselves with empathy in a harsh world. Yet, most people rarely showed what lay beneath the surface. When they felt most uncomfortable or pressured, that was when the truth would strip them bare and show what dwelled below.

  By the time we reached the upstairs room where Hersten waited, I took one look at his face and I knew what he was going to say. He motioned for us to sit down and took a chair for himself, letting loose with a long sigh.

  “First of all, I don’t believe what they said about accusing one of you of murder. You don’t get this old without being able to read people, and you girls are good.” He paused, twirling a finger through his whiskers before his eyes stopped on me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk having you here. You can stay till the morning, but then you’ll have to move on.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t blame the old guy. If I’d been in his position, I knew I’d have done the same. Kora stood up, knocking her chair to the floor where it rattled like old bones. She pursed her lips tight, her fists balled up as she stalked from the room without uttering a word.

  32

  Every morning, I saw Asher. Even before my eyes opened, his face appeared in my mind, his essence connected to my soul. In those sweet moments, he felt real, tangible enough that I could remember how it felt to have his warmth next to me and his breath on my neck. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to remain in that magical realm, consciousness inevitably crept in with the stark reality of his passing. I knew now what my grandfather had meant when he’d told me that, as incredible as love was, nothing other than love could leave your heart so devoid of feeling, so desperate.

  This morning was no different. My eyes fluttered open and Asher’s spirit dissolved while the real world rushed in once again. I stifled a yawn and steeled myself for the day ahead. Love had no place in the gritty, harsh path before me. I erected the emotional walls that had protected my heart, barring feelings that could weaken my resolve in the days and weeks to come. The rebellion had turned into an uprising, and I somehow knew I’d be at the tip of the spear.

  I noticed where Kora had fallen asleep—as far as possible from Wyllow, choosing the opposite side of the room and sleeping on a pile of old burlap sacks. I knew Kora believed what the guard had said the night before, about Wyllow being a murderer. Sometimes we fi
lter out observations in life that conveniently prove our ideas true, regardless of whether or not they are.

  I’d given Kora the space she needed, leaving her be when we’d lain down to fall asleep not long after her. But as I looked at the space where she’d slept, I realized that she was no longer curled up beneath the bags of burlap.

  Wyllow was still sleeping, although she looked dead at first. I had to wave a hand beneath her nose just to make sure.

  After grabbing my boots, I hurried to the stairs and up the stairwell into the main living quarters, where Hersten and Baylock sat quietly at a table, drinking from mugs.

  The moment Baylock saw me, his nose crinkled the freckles on his face as he shot me a smile. “Want some tea?”

  Hersten gestured toward a pot on the stovetop, not bothering to encourage me or stand up to pour it.

  “Nah, thanks. Did Kora come through here?”

  “She’s outside,” Hersten said, his bloodshot eyes piercing mine as he chuckled. “She’s smarter than you, though. She took a mug of tea out with her. Blunts the edge of the desert’s morning chill.”

  I titled my head, eyeing the steam curling from the pot’s spout. Memories of my grandfather flashed in my mind’s eye. Drinking tea together had been our thing, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had some. I walked over and filled a mug, taking a sip and not having the heart to tell Hersten it tasted like hot creek water. Instead, I grinned in thanks and went through the hatch to where Kora sat on an old table made of uneven, wooden planks. The sun had crested the mountains but hadn’t yet burned the night away. Hersten had been right after all—the tea kept my hands warm.

  Kora sat perched on top of the thin planks, her legs resting along the bench while she gazed toward the rock monoliths. She didn’t look up when I approached and sat on the bench next to her.

  “I want to kill her.” Kora pushed the words through her teeth.