Never Forgotten

by Stacey Nash

  I take a seat and try not to stare at either one of them. Despite what Frank said, the attacks aren’t every two minutes and no more frequent than the ones back home, it seems since nothing happens for the next hour.

  My head pounds with fatigue.

  The clatter of Spinner’s knife on the cement floor jars me back into wakefulness.

  Probably a good thing.

  “Hoi, new kid,” Spinner says, “You won’t last long if you can’t stay awake on the job.”

  My glare catches his tight smile. I had a long night, but he doesn’t need to know that. These people don’t need to know a damn thing about me. If I could, I would have disappeared someplace alone. But I can’t beat Nik to the keys without tech at my fingertips. Couldn’t beat him in the stupid games without it when we were kids, so I sure as hell won’t now. Back then, our father would hide an object somewhere within the walls of the Collective Agoge then set us to find it. The only rule was that the winner got to beat the crap out of the loser. Not really a prize, but more of a punishment. Besides, Spinner’s got a point. Right now innocent lives are being lost at the hands of the Collective. I can’t just stand by and let that play out. I should be more alert.

  After a solid hour of nothing happening, a couple of chicks come to relieve us, thankfully. I need sleep. I barely dozed when lying on the roof with Mae. No way I could have, not with her back pressed against me as her breathing slowed. She slept, but the feel of her body so close to mine was distracting, and soaking the moment in before I left, was a better choice. An ache rises inside me and I push it aside.

  Then start walking away.

  “Hey,” the skinny guy yells after me, “I’m Harris.”

  For a split second, I think about giving a false name, but Frank knows me, so I can’t even pretend to be someone else. Let’s hope knowledge of my blood ties haven’t preceded me.

  “Jax.” If he knows, it doesn’t show in his face. He doesn’t even blink.

  “Well, Jax, you’ve got to be hungry and you look tired. How about something to eat and then we’ll find you a bed?”

  This guy is a godsend. Shouldn’t have judged him by that evolution shirt.

  “Thanks. That’d be great.”

  Harris shows me to a small room out the back that holds a tiny kitchen. It doesn’t have the luxuries of a full-sized food prep area, just a fridge, microwave and sink. A portable gas burner sits in the corner and he whips out a box of mac and cheese which he proceeds to heat up.

  “Where are you from?” Harris hands me a steaming pot.

  I take it and start feeding my face. “South.”

  “Where in the south?”

  I point to my full mouth—which is so hot my tongue stings—while he waits for an answer I don’t intend to give. When I’ve swallowed the pasta, I ask the question that will help me figure out a plan of attack. “So, are you guys on shifts around the clock?”

  “Nah.” He stuffs food into his mouth. “Night attacks are rare. Frank takes watch alone from eleven to six ’cause nothing ever happens.”

  Perfect. Only one person to get past.

  He glances at the empty camping pot in my hand. “You want more?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  He stands, carrying his meal with him. “Let’s find you a bed then.”

  Harris points me toward a room, which is huge and more like another part of the warehouse floor than a separate space. The building isn’t as big as I’d first thought, and has no staircase in sight. The high-pitched roof has windows up the walls, probably to provide direct sunlight in its former life. So, no second floor like I’d first thought. Sleeping gear covers on the floor. Not beds, just piles of blankets set apart from one another.

  “Grab some bedding—” Harris points toward a huge freestanding cupboard. “—and claim a space.”

  I do just that, settling myself down in a spot up against the wall closest to the door. A spot with a wide, empty ring of floor around it. As I drift off to sleep the beginnings of a plan brew in my mind.

  Chapter Eight

  Mae

  It’s been a whole day and still no word of Jax. The bike’s gone and Marcus says Jax asked to borrow it. Trying to avoid thinking about what that might mean isn’t easy with Ace moping around like he lost his favorite toy, trailing along behind anyone who walks through the halls. Surely Jax will come back soon. He has to, but we can’t wait. We’ve got to go ahead anyway, even though breaking through the barrier won’t be so simple now. We’ve waited too long already and we shouldn’t hold off any longer. We’ve got Jax’s blood on my cardigan, so hopefully that splotch will be enough to get one of us through. If not, we’ll use Will’s barrier breaker; that’s what he’s been working on for the past few weeks. Making it stronger and more compact, in the hope it will help bring down the improved barriers. Not that the barrier is the sole issue. They’ve built bigger walls, stronger fences, so it’s now more like the security surrounding a power plant or jail, which is kind of fitting.

  Thinking about our plan keeps my mind off Jax. Until it doesn’t. I’d be the same if it was Will or Lilly who’d up and taken off. Heck, I worry about Cynnie often enough. Jax is no different, right? My knees bounce a nervous rhythm while my feet tap the floor. It feels like we’ve been waiting for ages even though it can’t be any longer than five minutes.

  I set my empty tea-cup on the ground. “That stuff tastes foul.”

  Not listening, Lilly fidgets with her protect-it, pinching the gauze between her fingers and letting it snap back into place as Will takes for-freaking-ever. We both donned the skintight bodysuits to protect us from potential Collective attacks . . . by tech weapons, at least. Finally, footsteps echo along the hall and I poke my head out of the room we’ve claimed as our own, now aptly known as the beanbag room. Will waves me back inside and I duck behind the door to resume my anxious jittering on the windowsill. He bowls through a second behind me, swings a duffle bag to the floor and delves into it looking for goodness knows what. After a minute of scrounging, a dagger comes out which he lays carefully on the floor then extracts his favorite stun-mace, a slingshot, and a handful more daggers.

  He glances up at me, his blond hair flopping into his eyes. “Did you get it?”

  “Yeah.” I toss him a protect-it and telcom. “Lilly and I already have ours on, we’re ready to roll.”

  Taking a dagger, I strap it to my forearm, then glance out of the window at the neon-lit city. Not that I can see much from here, just the strip of restaurants that line the street behind us, because the window looks out over the back of the building, not the front.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t tell Beau?” I say.

  Will raises a brow. “This is nothing, besides it’s not about him anyway. He’s got a war to fight . . .”

  “And it would be the same story as your dad all over again,” Lilly adds.

  “Okay. You’re right, I just feel a little nervous, I guess.”

  “And that’s perfectly okay,” Lilly says. “I’m the same.”

  She’s probably thinking about Garrett and worried about meeting the same fate, but me . . . I’m petrified of ending up back in Manvyke’s clutches, as Nik’s toy or something much worse, a mindless drone doing his bidding. “Let’s go before we have time to overthink this. You got the keys?”

  “Yep.” Lilly jangles a keychain.

  “Then we’re set.”

  Like we’re fugitives we sneak down to the ground floor and out the front door. Creeping around the side of the old brick building and there it is, Beau’s rusty red pickup parked on the street. If he busts us, Lilly will be toast, but she’s assured us it’s cool; we’ll be back before he even has time to notice it’s gone. If she’s confident, then so am I. We could have taken the subway since there’s a station within walking distance, but this will make it much easier if we need to get away fast.

  She pushes the key into the lock and flicks it open. This is almost too easy, and we’re not stealing
. Not really . . . he lets us take it all the time. Will slides onto the bench seat and I follow, wedging myself between them with my knees on either side of the gear shift. A grin spreads across Lil’s face as she turns the engine over. It splutters and, gosh, what if it won’t start? But then with a bang loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood the old truck shudders to life, thank god. Lilly slams her foot on the gas and I’m thrown forward against the seatbelt. She seems to ease off and repeat because the same thing happens again.

  “Want me to drive?” Will asks.

  Honestly, I think I’d prefer it.

  “No. I can do it.” She shifts the truck into gear and we lurch once more before rolling forward, finally moving. Will’s suppressed chuckle hangs in the air—in the springing tension of our shared wavelength. Trying not to laugh myself, I jab my elbow into his side and shoot him a look. He grins.

  It’s only a short drive before we arrive at our destination. Lilly circles around the park and just as we pass I lean forward, peering past Will’s head. The sight of the council building drowns me in a sudden heat. The last time we were here, I ran for my life on a stabbed leg that felt like it was on fire, all the while fearing Will was dead or, worse, captured. And Al . . . poor sweet, old Al was tortured. A deathly shiver ripples through my chest and lands in my stomach making it churn. What are we getting ourselves into?

  Will’s hand finds mine.

  Right, we can do this.

  The cement-rendered building is exactly as I remember. Spotlights in the pavement light up the front like it’s some sort of monument and the huge imposing doors stand closed.

  I swallow the fear clogging my throat. I have to do this, because if I don’t, no one else will. She’s my mother. We don’t even know if she’s alive or whether she’s stuck as Manvyke’s . . . whatever she is . . . hostage, prisoner, victim, cohort. Don’t think that! She can’t be working with him. I don’t believe that for a second. Or do I?

  “Are you sure it’s going to work?” Lilly’s breath brushes my shoulder as we cruise past the Collective stronghold.

  “No idea,” Will says, “but if it doesn’t, what have we got to lose?”

  “Our lives.” Her answer comes so quick and natural it’s as if she’s been thinking about it, or thinking about Garrett.

  “Let’s park as close as we can. In case we need to get away fast. You know, just to be safe,” I say.

  Lilly turns the wheel hard to the left, making a U-turn, then coasts the truck to a stop at the curb on the other side of the dark alley which runs down the length of the Collective’s building. Right where we entered last time, which means it’s probably the best place to try again. At least if we get through we’ll know exactly where we are in those identical fancy corridors. That’s something.

  We pile out of the truck. With the bloodstained cardi balled in one hand, I head down the alley to the echo of late-night sounds: a faraway siren, the hum of traffic, the steady doosh, doosh of loud music. I block it all out and concentrate on the feel of the dagger strapped to my arm. Smooth against my skin, it’s somewhat heavy.

  We walk along the alley. That familiar feeling of nausea when in proximity to a barrier doesn’t grab me this time. Maybe because I’m expecting it, or possibly because of the ginger tea Lilly made me drink before we left—which apparently soothes sickness. A smile tugs at my mouth, thinking about what Jax would have to say about Lilly’s herbal therapies. It feels strange doing this without him. Not that I’m one of those girls who always needs a guy to do the tough work, but just because he’s always been in on anything I planned. I’ve never gone without him. Slipping the bloodied cardi on, I walk up the short stairs and place my hand on the door.

  My palm meets the cold metal. No barrier then.

  Not any resistance to my touch at all.

  It opens and I walk through without any troubles. It can’t be that easy: just a little of Jax’s pure Collective blood and I’m through? I turn back to my friends and their shocked expressions must match mine, but how will they get in? Last time Jax turned the barrier off. But how the heck do I find the switch and what does it even look like: a light switch, a black box, or something entirely different? I let the door close, and feel around in the dark, but my hand only comes into contact with the wall. Lying both palms flat against the cool cement, I follow it around the room, patting the wall until my fingers brush over the smooth surface of a door.

  Just as I’m about to push it open, dim light floods the room from the alley entrance. As if I wasn’t nervous enough already, now my heart pounds double time. The door opens all the way, framing Will’s silhouette, then he walks through without stopping. He doesn’t sink into the jello-like force field, nor does the barrier bounce him back down the stairs.

  “It worked!” he says.

  Nearly jumping out of my skin, I hiss, “Shh. You’ll get us caught.”

  He might be confident, but I’m not. This seems too easy, so it has to be another trap. They must know we’re coming. Manvyke’s probably waiting.

  A hand lands on my shoulder and I jump back, slamming my head into Will’s chin.

  I curse straight into his mind through the telcom, following it with, “Don’t touch me unless I see you first.”

  “Sorry, you okay?” he asks. “You’re breathing a little funny.”

  I nod, but he probably can’t see, so I add, “Just nerves.”

  Will holds his hand up and even though I can’t see what he’s showing me through the dark, I know what it is. Remodeled into a handheld device, it fits snugly into his palm. “Barrier breaker worked.”

  I reach for the door again. “That’s great.”

  I’m not feeling great though. An ominous sensation prickles my insides as I inch the door open and peer out. We came during the night, hoping that there would be less activity, but an unlit, dark corridor isn’t what I expected to find. Moonlight seeping through the glass ceiling provides the only source of illumination.

  Placing each step as quietly as possible, I creep down the hall.

  I’ve only been here once before, but it’s like a map of the place is branded in my memory. We follow the corridor around two turns before we come to the staircase off to the left. The completely empty hallways don’t have any light trickling under the closed doors and there isn’t a single sound. It’s like the entire place is asleep.

  If we want to find a clue to my mother’s location, we’ve got to get to Manvyke’s office, so we descend to the next level. In the stairwell, everything’s pitch-black and the only hint I’ve reached the bottom is a stumble-trip when I try to step down and find no more stairs. Darkness bathes this entire floor, too.

  Even though it wasn’t dark last time, there was a buzz of activity that seemed like it would be ever-present. So now, the place feels super quiet. Too quiet.

  With my sight dulled, other senses seem sharpened: Lilly’s boots padding on the tiled floor, Will’s breaths coming too loud, my heart beating extra fast. I stop moving, try to regain my lost sense, letting my eyes readjust. But Lilly whips out a cellphone, presses the center and lights our way with white light.

  “That wise?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t exactly look like anyone’s awake to see.”

  “True.”

  With the light reflecting off the marble pillars and bathing the red carpet, we creep through two whole corridors until we’re standing at the corner to the third—the one that leads to Manvyke’s office.

  “I think this is it,” Will says.

  “You’re right, this is definitely it.” I may have been scared out of my wits when I was last here, but I remember it as clear as if it was only an hour ago. Just like I remember the debilitating fear when Manvyke greeted me, slammed the door and trapped me.

  That same feeling has been echoing through me since we stepped inside.

  Lilly flicks off her cell, plunging us back into darkness. I inhale a calming breath and place a hand on each of the doors. It should be empty; there w
as no bed here, only a chaise lounge and I don’t think Manvyke would be one to sleep in anything but luxury. Manvyke does have a history of sitting in darkened rooms, just waiting. Is it ridiculous to think he might be doing that now? No. No, it’s not. Another inhale fills my lungs with cool air. I press my weight onto my hands and the door creaks open.

  “Shh,” Lilly says, as if I have some sort of control over the noise the door makes.

  I take one last breath and hold it as I slip inside the room, silence ringing in my ears. It’s like the lack of sound is blocking any small noises that might be here with a deafening sound all of its own.

  If there are any clues, they won’t be in this sitting room. They’ll be in the actual office. With only my memory to guide me, I inch my way across the room, dodging the place where the chairs were last time and holding a hand in front of myself just to be sure. After what feels like a mile-long walk, my fingertips snap onto a surface. I’m not sure if it’s the wall or the door, so I feel around until my hand brushes the raised edges of a doorframe, then back the other way until, finally, my fingertips encounter the handle.

  Someone bumps into me; the smell vanilla strong. Lilly, that’s her flavor of body spray. “This it?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think it’s safe to turn on the light?”

  “I don’t think anyone’s here, but how about we use your cell just in case?”

  Holding my breath again, I push the door open and wait for an attack. The air swishes around me as Lilly passes, then Will. The door snicks closed and, straight after, a halo of light flashes on around Lilly, dancing dark shadows across her face that are reminiscent of spooky storytelling. My heart beats like that’s exactly what we’re doing; scaring each other. She holds the phone up and shines it around the room.

  One empty corner, two, three and nothing in between.

  “Is this what it was like before?” Will asks.

  Lilly stops her pointless scan. The place has been cleaned out. “What do you think?” she snaps at Will.