Enmity

by E. J. Andrews

  There’s only one thing I can’t think about now. She will have to wait.

  Blake steps forward a little, not looking directly at me but always looking in my direction.

  ‘We want you to join us, Nate.’ He is extremely serious, but I can’t help laughing. ‘What is so funny?’ he asks. I can tell I am wearing on his patience.

  ‘I’m laughing at your joke—wasn’t that the point?’

  Blake and Caden both look confused.

  ‘This is very serious, Nate,’ Caden says. ‘We need you to go back to Darren with a message, tell him that we’re on to him, and if he tries to stop us, he can build an army the size of the world twice over, and I will still break through it, and kill him.’

  Now I can see why people are afraid of this man. He has determination in his blood that sits on the tip of his tongue, and escapes with every word.

  ‘You are capable of conveying a message, yes?’ I feel my head nod.

  ‘Is that all you want from me?’ I know I am dreaming. He must want me for more than that if he is willing to keep me alive.

  Caden smiles and then steps back so Blake commands my attention again as he steps forward.

  ‘Nate, once we win this war, there will be a new world order. And I know you probably don’t think I’ve been a very good father—’

  ‘No,’ I answer. The word hangs in silence. ‘You haven’t been a father at all.’

  Blake stares at me—just stares. Then he continues as though I have said nothing. He is inches from me now. If Pat didn’t have her gun so pointedly aimed at my head I could probably stand and get a good hit in before Pat or Caden would kill me.

  ‘Everything I have done has been for you, for your future. When this new world is created, you could be its king.’

  I feel my head pop up and I see the excitement erupt from Blake’s eyes. He thinks I am interested.

  ‘Well, you see—’ This would be the perfect time for you to turn up now, Josh. ‘I already know a king, and I think he’d do a hell of a lot better job than any of us.’

  I slide my body down the chair so that my forearms take all my weight and then I raise my right leg to release a full kick to Blake’s chest, sending him staggering backwards as he tries to keep his feet beneath him. I push my body back around on the chair, still staying low on it, and then I send the chair flying into Pat. A shot rings out, but it’s not from her rifle, which clatters to the floor. Pat falls to the ground too, a large wound darkening with blood on her left shoulder. I turn in time to see Caden looking as though this is almost entertaining to him. Definitely Hermia’s genetics.

  I watch him go to grab for his gun and I take off, heading towards whomever it is that was shooting. I just hope they’re friend and not foe.

  I hear the shots ring out from either side and I push myself forward faster, then drop to the ground and slide past the end pillars where the mystery shooter must be positioned.

  I lie flat on my back and look up to the ceiling for a moment. Its ancient and almost angelic-looking crown mouldings are beautiful. This place really is quite stunning architecturally. I sit up and look over my shoulder to find it is indeed Josh who is firing at Pat, Caden and Blake.

  ‘Oh shit, they saw me,’ Josh says, hauling me to my feet, and starts running.

  ‘Dude, that was like perfect timing,’ I pant as we run towards the exit.

  Josh laughs. We skid to a stop by the front pillars.

  ‘Not really—I’ve been here since she took you in. I was just waiting for you to pull out an awesome line like that.’

  If we get out of this alive, I’ve definitely got to thank Josh for saving my life this time.

  Hermia

  We run as fast as our legs and willpower will carry us.

  I push Georgie forward, trying to make her carry on.

  She is still so broken, not even her admission that she came here voluntarily could make her stronger in herself. Though she was strong enough to push me away from Caden. How can she be so obviously weak but then show this hidden strength?

  We run through the back streets, through alleyways with trash-lined walls that rise so high the sun can’t even reach us down here.

  Where the hell are the keepers when we need them?

  I stop dead at the end of another alley as I see one of our black-masked adversaries run past. I wait and pray that they don’t see us. Georgie is panting behind me as her free hand finds me. She presses our hands together with such strength I can feel the sweat building between our palms.

  Another black mask runs past and catches a glimpse of us. My eyes hurt from the shock they are expressing.

  The black-masked person stops and removes their mask.

  ‘Ezra,’ I breathe.

  Ezra looks as shocked as I do. She must have thought I was dead, or worse, maybe she wants to bring me back to the club. I can’t go back there.

  Ezra opens her mouth as though she is about to speak, her blue eyes so bright in the light of day. A shot rings out and I turn with enough time to watch Georgie fall before me. Her knees hit the ground first, sending a jolt through her upper body.

  I turn back and see Ezra running, away from the gunfire, away from me. Coward. She is a complete coward.

  I turn with enough time to watch the last of Georgie’s fall, our hands torn apart, caught in this moment that seems to drag longer than the day’s end, yet can’t really last longer than the exit of a breath.

  I raise my crossbow; I don’t realise what I am doing until my eyes find the mark I am aiming for, and my regret only lasts until I see the arrow sticking out of the middle of my adversary’s black mask, around where their forehead should be. Another black mask, another face I will never see. The force of the arrow is enough to stop their approach and then send them falling backwards.

  I will never be the same now, I think.

  No one is ever the same after they kill someone, no matter how they came to die.

  If only they could see the grey-clouded sky as they die, but I didn’t give them that option. As they have given Georgie.

  Georgie.

  I look back down to find Georgie’s body crumpled on the ground and drop to my knees in the gravel beside her. She must have punctured a lung, or something of that kind; her breaths are broken, jagged things and the bullet wound to her chest is bleeding profusely. I press both hands to it to try and stop the bleeding somehow. My attempts, of course, are futile.

  ‘You have to let me go now,’ Georgie struggles out.

  Her voice is so broken, just like her body.

  ‘I can’t.’ My voice matches hers, broken and weak.

  ‘You have to let me go,’ Georgie repeats.

  The sound of gunfire echoes around us and I know she is right. It is a death sentence just sitting here waiting for the owners of those bullets to find us. But I can’t leave her like this.

  I grab for Georgie’s hand, smearing blood all over her.

  ‘You did good.’ I nod and then notice that tears are spilling from my eyes as if they are supposed to. ‘I never knew your parents but I know they would have been proud of you.’

  Georgie smiles. It is the first time I expect her to cry but she doesn’t.

  ‘Thank you,’ she answers. I let my tears fall over her. ‘Now do something for me.’

  The colour is almost completely drained from her face, but you can’t deny someone’s last wish. I nod and try to choke back the ugly crying.

  Georgie pulls in a sharp breath. ‘Give him hell.’

  The way she looks at me makes me wonder if she knows that Caden is my father, and that I want to kill him just a little more than she does.

  I watch as Georgie holds out her gun; her clean, white hands make such a contrast to my blood-soaked ones.

  Georgie hands me her gun as if she is handing me her strength; I now see that she is stronger than anyone I have ever met.

  I feel the hard metal of Georgie’s gun in my hands as her eyes start to flutter dully, then I hear t
he last word Georgie will ever speak.

  ‘Go.’

  Nate

  I wait for the shock, but the shock doesn’t come. It is as though the hysteria has already seeped into the pores of my skin, through the membrane of my outer body, into the very core of my being.

  The door across the room from me breaks open; Darria and Law are coming towards me so quickly that I don’t realise I am moving backwards until my back hits a wall. Why are they busting into my room like this? They can’t wait to find out what happens? Or are they trying their best to piss me off?

  ‘What—’ I receive a smack to the side of my head and I lose hearing for a moment. I wince away from Law’s blow; his words are just white noise.

  I feel hands on my collar; looking down I find they belong to Darria. He is shaking like a leaf

  ‘What did they say to you?’

  I have never been so close to Darria; I’ve also never seen him so angry. Or is it fear?

  My head tries to find the words that Blake and Caden spoke, but all I feel is a red-hot rage course through me at the words ever being spoken.

  ‘They’re on to you.’ I look right into Darria’s light eyes; they are almost grey today. As he looks away I say, ‘They want me to join them.’

  Darria’s eyes are back on mine in an instant, and they hold a new sharp edge. ‘And what did you say to that?’

  I allow myself a small smile now, because I still find this hilarious. They are both trying to get me to fight against the other, but neither of them seems to realise I don’t want to fight at all. Maybe I am going about this the wrong way; maybe fighting fire with fire is the only way to do things in this war.

  ‘I laughed.’

  I don’t know how my face must look. After another few seconds, Darria releases his grasp and actually cracks a smile, but it’s so brief I wonder if I imagined it.

  Darria smooths down his shirt with the palms of his hands, though there were never any creases.

  ‘Good.’ He gives a small sigh. ‘Good, I’m glad you’re such a strong leader,’ he says quickly, and then walks to the door, not looking back.

  Law lingers a few extra seconds, taking three very precise steps towards me.

  ‘He is right, in many ways. You may not trust his judgement, but I do. Your leadership is a part of you, Nate. People respect you because you respect them, even when you give them reason not to.’ Law gives a curt nod while still looking me dead in the eyes. His words sound almost like a riddle and it is one I must decipher. ‘It is a quality I admire in you.’

  Law nods again and leaves without another word, his steps less precise, and his body a little more relaxed.

  After Law is gone I catch a glimpse of someone else, watching from outside the door, now only open a crack.

  Rence is watching me, and I know he can see me because I can see him seeing me.

  His eyes hold the jealous rage of a young boy, as though I have stolen one of his toys. Yet Rence is no ordinary young boy. I am starting to see that there is something much more menacing to him. Rence walks away, leaving the imprint of his eyes on the insides of mine.

  Hermia

  This is absolute bullshit, if I’m being quite honest. Just complete bullshit.

  We all stand around in a circle, around a stupid little box that now holds the ashes that were once Georgie.

  First, she’s in a shoebox. A damn shoebox.

  Second, no one is saying anything. How can no one say anything?

  ‘I don’t think Georgie and I ever had more than three conversations.’ Now I’ve done it. Opened my damn mouth and now I’m going to have to keep speaking.

  I give myself a second to rub my tongue on the roof of my mouth to try and stop myself from crying. I don’t know why it is starting to come so easily to me now, the passing of tears. ‘But the last conversation we ever had, that one’s definitely going to stick.’

  I feel my knees bend and I place a hand on top of the pure white box. It feels so thin, so fragile. As though she could just push her way out.

  ‘I’m sure your parents are telling you exactly what I said they would, how proud they are.’ I watch a teardrop fall onto the box and I wipe the rest away as fast as I can before I stand again. For a split second I see the shock on everyone’s faces, then they all look away, trying to make it seem like their surprise was merely my imagination. I know it is not.

  ‘Georgie was one of our best—’ I try and say, but all in a second everyone finally breaks their silence.

  ‘I don’t want to do this anymore,’ Kane splutters as he breaks down into tears. He leans hard against the crutches in his armpits so he can raise his hands to his face.

  ‘We’ve lost three already, the rest of us are done for,’ Lola says, her words almost overlapping Kane’s.

  ‘This is enough, we’ve done enough—’

  ‘I never said I’d give my life—’

  ‘Please—’

  There is a gunshot. The smell is everywhere within an instant. The taste of metal is on the tip of my tongue, making bile churn in my stomach. What has this done to me? What has the loss of Georgie’s life also made me lose?

  Nate stands with his gun raised above his head. He lowers it slowly and then walks away, crunching gravel underfoot, without saying a thing.

  Nate really is better with actions than with words.

  Nate

  I push the door open but don’t hear it close. I cross the room and drop my gun from a dangerous height onto my bedside table, hearing the metal scrape and slide against the polished wood.

  I prepare myself for a second. I don’t know how she is going to react, but I know it’s going to involve screaming.

  I face Marina, waiting for her to lay it on me.

  ‘You can’t blame them for not wanting to fight. You don’t want to fight. I don’t want you to fight anymore.’ She says it as a general statement, no admissions, all certainty and discerning. ‘You heard Darria—he said we could go home.’

  Now I know she’s delusional. I scoff and start pacing back and forth across the room. Then I stop and look dead at her.

  ‘You really think he was talking about us? About me?’

  Marina looks pissed. She starts pacing now and pulling at the roots of her hair.

  ‘If you tell him you won’t—’

  ‘You didn’t hear what they said to me!’

  My voice is louder than the last time I spoke, almost booming now. I don’t like it, but I can’t help it.

  I try to calm myself down for a second and Marina stops pacing.

  ‘It’s like he was teasing me, taunting me.’

  ‘Oh,’ Marina scoffs. ‘So that’s enough reason for you to die! Because your father teased you?’

  I’ve never seen Marina this angry; it radiates out of her eyes and courses through her and into me. I’m terrified, reluctant to push her any further, but I have to say the words that spring to mind.

  ‘It’s enough reason not to give up.’

  Marina looks me dead in my eyes now, and hers quiver in that hysterical kind of way.

  I can see her mind is racing so fast her eyes can’t keep still long enough for her to process what she’s seeing.

  We stay like that for far too long. I can’t think of a single thing to say.

  ‘I don’t want you to have to choose between me and this war.’ The tiny shake of her head as she speaks is mesmerising; she looks and sounds so concerned. ‘But if you continue to fight, you will have chosen.’

  I watch her watch me for a second longer.

  Marina turns and leaves so fast, even if I tried to call her back I know she wouldn’t come.

  Hermia

  I am caught in one of those moments where part of you wonders if it will ever end.

  Lying here with Chase feels so calm and natural. That’s why I resist it so much.

  He intertwines our hands and we just hold them there, feeling the light beat of his pulse on mine. I feel an overwhelming urge to kiss him. I hav
e pushed Chase away for so long; now I need to know that having him close is still a possibility.

  I raise my head ever so slightly and reposition myself so I’m looking down at him. Chase’s hair really is getting very long; as he lies here it frames his face like a lion’s mane, darker but probably just as coarse.

  I pull my hand free and run it through his hair, feeling the indents of his skull and the point where his cheekbones are raised slightly under the skin.

  ‘Having fun?’ he inquires.

  It is sentences like that that really make his accent sound very different to mine. The way the H and A and then the U and N interact with each other intrigues me, the rise at the start and the fall at the end.

  I ignore his question and continue to take in every aspect of him, trying to find a single thing I dislike. To be honest, I have given up all hope of finding something I truly hate.

  ‘I really hate Georgie for dying.’ I don’t know where that just came from.

  The look on Chase’s face changes very quickly. He moves back into himself, as though trying to see me properly.

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  To be honest, I don’t know. I know why I said it, but I don’t know why I just said it to Chase.

  ‘Georgie wasn’t my friend, I wouldn’t have even known her if we both weren’t brought together by Darria, or by Caden.’ I will give him hell. ‘But I feel this guilt. This terrible guilt that feels as though it is sticking to my skin like sweat that I can’t wash clean. Like her blood is on my hands for the world to see. And I hate her because I only saw the real her for a matter of minutes and—’ I need to stop talking, and I catch my breath long enough to try and think through what I’m saying. ‘Georgie was a better person than I will ever be and she’s dead.’

  Chase continues to look at me in a strange kind of observing way, then his eyes soften and he raises his hand to push my draped hair behind my ear.

  ‘It’s times when you say things like that, I wonder how I survived before, seeing the world so . . .’ he pauses, thinking. ‘So distortedly.’