“Can you find out if Trader’s among them and tell him I’m here?”
“I’m sorry, Skye. I can’t do that. You know the punishment for assisting an outlaw.”
“If Finch has anything to do with this order, you need to assume it’s bad. He’s organized a wastelander attack and might be herding you all together.”
Helen sighed. “I’m sorry it’s ended like this for you, but I can’t risk losing my tags. You’ll have to find somebody else.”
She turned and walked away.
“Wait. The tags won’t mean anything if …”
It was no use. She didn’t want to listen. Skye couldn’t blame her because she still believed in the system and Finch. Nobody wanted to lose their citizenship by helping an enemy of Omega. The whole rotten system needed changing. It had people living in fear, and the governors could do as they pleased, without question. They bent the original treaty wording to suit themselves, and Finch took full advantage of the situation while he hatched his plan.
The intermittent siren stopped. If Trader wasn’t here, she had to put her faith in the officers of Kappa and Zeta. Skye wondered if Finch lured them here on purpose, to take them all out with one killer blow. She kicked the cell wall out of frustration, and a chunk of plaster dropped to the ground.
Ross hurried over and wiped his sleeve across his sweaty brow. “Lieutenant Reed, I’m going to need you to come with me, please.”
She glared at him. “Have you come to kick me out? What dirty work has Finch got you doing this—”
“I was wrong about Finch. Trader confirmed thousands of wastelanders are heading here. Zeta and Kappa have come to join forces. It was Jake Phillips’ idea. They’re heading here later this morning with Epsilon.”
Skye walked to the bars. “You’ve come to release me?”
“It’s all hands on deck.”
“Where’s Finch?”
“I think he’s in his mansion.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Ten years ago at the settlement. Say it.”
The color drained from his face, and he bowed his head. “I ran after seeing the carnage. I saw what the first wave of those monsters did and abandoned my post. We didn’t have a chance. I know Sky Man’s real, but I never thought he was Finch. I’m sorry, Skye.”
“You’re sorry? You’re in command of our entire defense force now. It’s time you acted like it. Let’s arrest Finch and destroy those damned steps.”
Ross fumbled in his trousers pocket and produced a key. He twisted it in the lock and the door creaked open. Skye couldn’t resist her urge, sprang forward, and punched him in the stomach.
Ross groaned and doubled over. “I’ll give you that one. Don’t try it again.”
“I need a rifle,” she said. “We’ll try to force him to call off this attack before it’s too late.”
He straightened his jacket and took a deep breath. Ross deserved a whole lot more, but that would have to wait. They headed toward the road leading up to the mansion. He called over a young male guard who stood next to the base of a wind turbine. “Give Lieutenant Reed your rifle, please. You can grab another from the barracks and tell the men to immediately destroy the outer steps. Jump to it.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, unslung his rifle, passed it to Skye, and jogged away.
She put a round in the chamber. “If Finch doesn’t comply, I’m shooting him. When did you change your mind about him?”
“I didn’t know what to do after he killed Bennett. I locked myself in the tower and thought about running today.”
“But you didn’t?”
“I don’t want to live my life in fear anymore. When the other strongholds turned up and told me what was happening, I realized this would be our last stand.”
Even a coward like Ross couldn’t avoid this fight. He had nowhere to go. When Trader turned up, she would speak to him and arrange for Ross to be placed back in the ranks. If he survived.
Skye slipped through the mansion’s wrought-iron gates and crunched up the gravel drive toward the open front doors. She couldn’t understand Finch’s lunacy. Two strongholds had turned up to fight his arranged invasion, and he sat inside with the entrance wide open, probably sipping whiskey and puffing on a cigar.
“Don’t let me down this time, Ross.”
“You can count on me. It all changes today. If we pull through, I’ll stick to the stronghold treaty.”
Skye shook her head. He still didn’t get it. She swung around the Venetian doors and aimed inside. Nothing moved in the entry hall.
She moved across the squeaky polished tiles and entered the corridor that led to Finch's office. Skye used to think the varnished wooden floorboards here gave a comfortable, old reassuring creak. Now they were advertising her approach.
Two of the paintings lay on the floor. The glass covering her favorite, the ship at sea, was shattered in pieces next to it, and the painting had a twelve-inch tear in the middle, like somebody had put their foot through it.
Finch’s study door was closed. Ross would have to use his bulk to force his way in if she found it locked. Skye waited outside the door for him to catch up. He wheezed along the corridor, pointing his pistol at the five hung sash windows as he passed each one.
She nodded at him, twisted the handle, and burst through the door. Finch wasn’t here. One of the brown leather chairs sat on top of the smashed glass coffee table. Books scattered in front of the empty shelves of his mahogany bookcase, and the butterflies were missing from the display cabinet, leaving darkened silhouettes on the faded purple velvet.
Skye lowered her rifle and moved behind his desk. She opened the drawer and found a green journal.
Ross picked up an empty glass bottle and sniffed the rim.
“Watch the corridor,” she said.
He paused for a moment. Skye glared at him until he moved to the entrance. Ross’ reluctant support didn’t wash with her. All of his second chances were used up, and she had a bullet with his name on it if he didn’t comply.
She unfastened the journal and flicked it open. The first few pages were filled with pencil drawings of butterflies; each had strange philosophical rants below in shaky writing. Finch accused Skippers of taunting him with their erratic flight behavior, and Pygmy Blues of purposefully hiding from him.
He wrote Sky Man repeatedly from the middle pages onward. Most were stained with rings from his whiskey glass. The final picture was a crude sketch of himself emerging from a cocoon. Skye felt like she was looking into the mind of a maniac. The naked figure, with two antennas on his head, held a globe in one hand and a spear in the other.
A floorboard groaned overhead. Skye snapped the journal shut and stuffed it in her thigh pocket. The heads of Zeta and Kappa, Trader and Phillips needed to read about the kind of mind that worked against them.
She shouldered her rifle and immediately rushed past Ross. If Finch was upstairs, she wanted to get to him first. Make him call off the attack and then get revenge for her parents. His deceit left the strongholds' laws in tatters. No treaty would stop his execution.
Skye crept up the staircase and headed straight for the location of the noise. The back of the mansion. Finch’s bedroom.
Ross followed, keeping a safe distance. She expected nothing more as she approached the open bedroom door. A woman’s faint sobs came from inside.
Skye crouched by the door and nudged it open with her left hand.
Mary, the housekeeper, sat in the corner with her head in her hands. Dried blood crusted around her nostrils and stained the front of her white dress.
She looked up at Skye with tears in her eyes. “Have you found him?”
Skye knelt next to Mary and put an arm around her shoulder. “Everything is gonna be okay. What happened?”
“I woke at three this morning to banging coming from his study. When I went to investigate, he threw a paperweight at my head and chased me to the bedroom. He hit me …”
Skye clenched her teeth. “Where is he?”
“He went back downstairs, and I heard the front door open two hours ago. I didn’t dare investigate.”
Skye turned to Ross, who peered around the door. “Have you checked with the front gate to see if he left?”
“Not yet. I thought he was here.”
“You thought wrong. He might be crazy, but he’s not stupid.”
Ross clipped his radio off his belt and held it to his mouth. “Omega gate, this is General Ross. Do you copy?”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave Skye a smug smile, not realizing how meaningless his rank had become. “Has Governor Finch left this morning?”
“Two hours ago on a mission to gather resources. Said he’d be back later this afternoon.”
Ross lowered the radio. “Guess we have our answer.”
“We need to get to the front and start organizing our defense. Call a meeting with the other stronghold leaders, get them to send their guard to man the ramparts, and confirm we’ve destroyed the steps.”
He gave her a false smile. “Are you telling me what to do?”
“Yes. Now get to it. We haven’t got any time to waste.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
At seven in the morning, half an hour after first light, a convoy of fifty vehicles lined up along the road inside Epsilon, ready to leave. Children squeezed into the back of Trader’s trucks, along with every available weapon in Epsilon. Jake estimated that they had around five hundred rifles and pistols along with thousands of rounds.
Two hundred armed men and women of the Epsilon guard, hundreds of factory workers carrying rifles, and Trader’s team lined either side of the packed vehicles, providing protection for their two-hour trip to Omega.
Jake sat in the lead vehicle with Trader and Carlos. He’d returned at five in the morning with good news. The strongholds were converging on Sigma and Omega. All agreed to maintain radio silence until Trader reached Omega and transmitted a status about Finch.
Trader raised his arm out of the vehicle window and casually swung it forward. He hit the accelerator and sped through the open gates. Jake looked over his shoulder at the convoy rumbling forward.
“Did you come across any wastelanders?” Trader said.
“None, which is weird,” Carlos said. “The local ones must be gathering somewhere.”
“Hopefully they’re not planning an ambush on our route,” Jake said. “How many do you think are in the area?”
Carlos shrugged. “Impossible to say. A few months ago I’d say a handful. Today, maybe hundreds. It’s what’s coming that worries me.”
The low early morning sun glared through the windscreen. In the distance, a large creamy cloud hugged the horizon.
“Got a dust storm on the way,” Trader said. “Should hit by the time we reach Omega.”
“That’s all we need,” Carlos said.
“It’s not necessarily bad,” Jake said. “We work out how to turn it to our advantage rather than worrying about it.”
After rolling along for an hour, the thin front end of the storm reached them. Trader assured Jake it would get a lot worse.
Gunfire crackled ahead of them.
Trader slammed on the brakes, and they came to a halt. Jake wound his window down and listened.
The sporadic distant cracks continued.
“Could it be another stronghold on the move?” Jake said.
“On this road? I doubt it.”
One of Trader’s team appeared at his window. “What do you want us to do, boss?”
Trader turned to Jake. “We need to clear any blocks in the road.”
Jake clicked off his belt, opened his door, and put a round in the chamber. “Trader, Carlos, we’ll scout the way ahead. The rest can take defensive positions around the convoy until we find out what the situation is.”
The team member nodded and ran back to the convoy. Trader and Carlos joined Jake at the front of the SUV. He peered ahead but couldn’t see further than two hundred yards. Beyond that, dust shrouded the road and forest.
“We move through the trees until we spot any signs of movement. From there, we observe until we can figure out the position and strength of what we’re facing, and then we come up with a plan. Okay?”
“You got it,” Trader said.
Carlos nodded and shouldered his rifle.
Jake moved into the cover of the trees, to try to remain undetected. The soft forest floor would also quieten their advance.
He checked the ground in front of him, careful not to step on any branches or twigs as he weaved between trunks, focusing on the ground ahead.
Shots split the air, becoming louder but less frequent.
Jake slowed his pace and crouched behind a trunk after seeing a faint flash through the dust. Trader and Carlos knelt on either side of him behind two other trees.
A burst of automatic gunfire rang out. Two figures appeared out of the gloom. Moving slowly and deliberately, switching their aim to different parts of the forest.
Jake crept over to Trader. “They look too efficient to be wastelanders. Any ideas who they might be?”
Trader stared over his sights as the figures closed in. “Doesn’t look like any stronghold guard. But I agree, they’re moving with too much precision.”
The figures stopped after two shots cracked behind them. They both crouched by the side of a rock and swept the area with their rifles.
Jake looked left after hearing the noise of velcro tearing. Carlos opened a pouch on his belt and pulled out a pair of goggles. He planted them against his eyes and adjusted the focus.
A man called out, “Over here. We’re clear.”
Two more figures joined them.
Carlos put the goggles back in his pouch. “They’re outlaws. I don’t know what the hell they’re doing here.”
Jake leaned toward Trader. “What kind of reception are we going to get from them? Do they run with wastelanders?”
“No. They’re just like us but live outside the strongholds. I wouldn’t exactly call them a friendly force, though.”
“If the shit’s hitting the fan today, they’re going to be in the same situation as us. I’m going to talk to them.”
“It’s too risky. They don’t attack convoys. We should wait until the firing stops and proceed.”
“They must have run into wastelanders, right?”
“Yeah, but they won’t talk to us.”
“They will when they hear what I’ve got to say. It’s about time we all started working toward the same objective.”
“Omega won’t allow them entry.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Jake got to his feet and prepared to move.
Trader grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t do it.”
Jake brushed his hand off and sprang forward, hunching between trees, and skidded to the ground behind a rotting trunk.
He looked over the top of it. The outlaws seemed unaware of his presence and chatted amongst themselves. “This is Jake Phillips. I’m fifty yards north of your position. Do you need any help?”
All four scrambled behind the rock. Two aimed over the top of it.
“Thousands of wastelanders are heading this way,” Jake said. “We’re all in this together. I’m here to assist you.”
“We’ve dealt with an ambush,” a man replied in a gravelly voice. “Go back to where you came from.”
“I’m serious. All eight strongholds are converging on Sigma and Omega. You’re welcome to join us. You won’t survive out here if the wastelanders catch you.”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Jake Phillips. I’m not associated with any stronghold, and I'm telling you the truth.”
“We saw them approaching the southern hills this morning and were on our way to Epsilon. Are you the guy from—”
“Yes. I was their tourist attraction, but I’m from their lead vehicle. We’re heading for Omega.”
“Are Barry and Beth with you?”
“Yes. I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.”
Jake took a deep breath and stood. He held his rifle to one side and approached the rock. Two outlaws maintained their aim. A man with a graying beard stood behind them and slung his rifle.
“You’re risking your ass coming over here. We could’ve mistaken you for wastelanders.”
Jake stopped ten yards short and looked across the faces. Three bearded men and one woman. All eyed him with suspicion. He addressed the man at the back. “I could say the same thing to you. Our convoy is half a mile back. Join us and I’ll take you straight to Beth and Barry.”
The man shook his head. “This ain’t gonna work. Finch won’t let us into Omega.”
“Finch is behind the attack. He’s drawing wastelanders north, promising them the strongholds and resources after they defeat us.”
He stepped from behind the rock and looked Jake up and down. “If you’re lying to me, you’re the first one who gets it.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we all came together? How long till the wastelanders get here?”
The man checked his watch. “Four hours. Is Finch still in Omega?”
“As far as we know. He doesn’t know we’re onto him, yet. We’ll turn the guard and take him. The only way we can save ourselves is to defend their walls. Fighting on open ground isn’t an option, but I think you know that.”
“That’s why we were going to Epsilon. They’re the only decent place out of all of the damned strongholds.”
“This is our chance to change things. Fight with me, and we’ll create a better society. Today, we all have to put our ideologies to one side.”
The man looked at his team, turned and whistled. Thirty more outlaws appeared through the dust. The ones at the back covered their rear as they gathered around the leader. He jumped to the top of the rock and addressed them.
“We’re joining a group on their way to Omega. Before any of you complain, Finch is behind the attack, and Epsilon have cleared out to join forces with Omega. The way I see it, we don’t have any other options.”
“We could head north,” a woman said.
The man shook his head and held his hand toward Jake. “We can’t avoid a force that size forever. Phillips claims it’s a chance for us to change things. I believe him. Barry and Beth are in the convoy, and we know they want the same thing. It could be the opportunity we’ve waited a long time for.”
Sixth Cycle Page 19
