by Jaye Wells
Her eyes shied away, but not before I saw the truth.
“I’ve heard the rumors about you,” I said, stepping closer. “Meridian Six, savior of the human race, blew up some horrible place the Troika built near the city. As impressive as that is, those rumors started less than six months ago. Forgive me, sweetheart, but I’ve been surviving in the Badlands going on a decade. Call me a kid if you want, but I’m a kid who’s survived and managed to keep a lot of other people alive in the process. Between the two of us, I have the longer track record of success.”
Her chin rose. “Would those two the Troika took three days ago agree with that track record?”
Anger made the muscles in my fist contract. She was baiting me. Trying to get me to lose my cool so she’d have an excuse to cut me out of the mission. “Bait me all you want, but you need me.”
“How you figure?”
“I heard what the old man said yesterday. About killing Dr. Death.”
Her right eyelid twitched. Clearly she and the others had thought I was out of earshot when they had talked about their true plans. I enjoyed surprising her, but I was looking forward to playing the ace up my sleeve. “Back before the war, my family lived in the mountains around southern Pennsylvania.”
“So?”
“So,” I said slowly, “my daddy was in the mining business. If the war hadn’t happened and forced us to migrate for survival, I would have been a miner too.”
“What does that—”
“What it means,” I spoke over her, “is I know about explosives. Your plan is to blow up Dr. Death when you light up the lab, right? Kill two birds with one stick of dynamite?”
“Killing Dr. Death can be accomplished without explosives. As for the labs, all I need is a match.”
“Or we could make your own explosives once we’re inside. Icarus said the main labor at the camp is mining coal. If they don’t have explosives there, they’ll for sure have the makings of them.”
Her mask of indifference slipped a couple of inches. “You know how to make them?”
I nodded with a smile and delivered my knockout. “Besides that, Bravo won’t follow your lead unless I’m there.”
This was a lie. If things were as bad at the camp as I was expecting, Bravo would do just about anything to protect Mica. But I couldn’t afford to let Meridian know that. Truth was, I didn’t quite trust her. Saga seemed to think she was the great hope of humanity, but I hadn’t seen much yet to prove him right. If the choice came down between rescue or destroying the Troika power source, she’d abandon Bravo and the others in a heartbeat. I needed to be there to be sure that choice wasn’t made.
When she finally spoke, she looked less defeated than resigned. “I’ll have to talk to the others.”
I crossed my arms. “You have to get their permission, you mean.”
Ever since I’d arrived, I’d heard a lot of talk about Meridian being the savior, but I’d yet to see her make a decision without Saga’s or Icarus’s go ahead. She might have what it took to lead, but I hadn’t seen evidence of that beyond propaganda. Yet another reason to ensure I went with her. Every mission needed a leader. I couldn’t chance so much on someone who was little more than a puppet for an old man and a bitter cripple.
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped into my space. “Watch yourself. You came to us for help, remember?” She pursed her lips and looked me over, as if weighing my potential as a partner in crime. “Don’t you worry about Saga. I’ll convince him you need to come. Do not make me regret this.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the feel that I’d be the one with the regrets.
Thirteen
Bravo
I woke in a dark room. My eyes stung despite the deep shadows and my brain felt like it was trying to crack through my skull. A groan escaped my mouth before I could stop it. If one of those asshole vampires was watching me, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing my pain.
But it wasn’t a vampire who answered.
“Didn’t I tell you not to be a hero?”
Matri. Not happy at all.
Luckily, I was already lying on my side, because a wave of nausea rose. I angled my head over the side of the cot and threw up the potatoes I’d eaten earlier. Once my stomach was empty, I actually felt a little better. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I looked up.
A scrap of damp cloth appeared in my immediate vision, and just beyond that, Matri’s stern face. Snatching the cloth with a mumbled “thanks” I made quick work of cleaning myself. When done, I pushed myself into a seated position, but instantly regretted it as the pounding behind my eyes intensified.
“Probably a concussion.”
I wasn’t interested in discussing my health. “You were there.”
She looked away.
“You were standing there, watching, while they drained those children.”
“I was.” That was it. No denial. No excuses.
I spat on the floor to clear the taste of bile from my tongue. “Does that happen to all the children you care for?” I put mocking emphasis on the last two words.
“Yes, Bravo, it does.”
Her refusal to apologize or rise to my bait enraged me. “How can you do that to them? They trust you.”
She pressed her lips together and looked at me with patient pity. “They trust me to keep them alive. That is exactly what I’m doing.”
“By draining them?” My raised voice ricocheted around inside my head like a bullet.
“Before I convinced the guards to use the current setup, they would snatch children from their beds and drain them dead.”
My mouth fell open, but she wasn’t done.
“Before I came along and convinced the camp director that he’d have an easier time meeting his quotas with more order, this place was an all-you-can-eat buffet for the guards. A slaughterhouse.” She sat on the cot next to me. I scooted as far away as I could get, still unconvinced she didn’t deserve a beating for her collusion with the guards. “I know what you saw was upsetting, but I assure you it’s ten times more humane than what would have occurred a few years ago.”
“You expect me to thank you for that?”
“No, I expect you to work with me to make sure no children ever have to be drained again.”
“What?”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it until I stopped struggling to pull it back. “Did you wonder why I had you assigned to help me?”
I shrugged. “I gave up trying to understand your motivations around the time I saw you watching innocent children get drained.”
Her hand contracted painfully on mine. “Watch yourself. You’ve been in this camp for a few days. I’ve been here for ten years. You don’t know what I’ve seen. What I and the others have had to do to survive.”
The ferocity in her tone gave me pause. I’d had to do some unsavory things, too, but if what she said about the state of life in the camp was true, then I couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of terrible choices she’d had to make.
Once she saw that I got it, she continued. “When you arrived, you seemed convinced that someone was coming to save you.”
I nodded. “Zed. He’s coming.”
“You’re the first new arrival in years. Most of the rebel groups that get raided now are small groups of high bloods that band together. If they’re caught, they’re sent directly to the blood camps or to the Troika headquarters. We haven’t had anyone with allies on the outside come in a long time.”
She stopped and sighed. “I guess what I’m saying is, we haven’t had a reason to hope for a long time. Not since Icarus escaped.”
“Who?”
“He was one of us. A leader in the camp. He made a plan to escape, go get help, and come rescue the rest of us.”
“So what happened to him?”
“He escaped all right, but he never came back for us.” The pain in her voice was palpable, like acid on the ears.
We were silent for a long, heavy mom
ent. Matri seemed lost in bitter memories, but I was busy worrying about the future. Zed would come, right? He had to.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “After Icarus left, I waited for a long time for him to come rescue us. At that point, I still had faith in him, and my goal was just to keep as many of us alive as possible until he came back. But the longer it took, the more my goal became to just stay alive, period. I knew eventually something would happen that would give us new hope. That’s why I finagled my way into being in charge of the children. I figured if I could train them to be survivors then at least a few of us might be alive once hope arrived.” She looked up and squeezed my hand. “And now it has.”
I blew out a long, slow breath. “Look, I want nothing more than to have Zed bust down those gates and free all of us. But I have no idea how long it will take him to rally the help he’ll need.”
She frowned. “You mean this Zed doesn’t have his own army?”
I froze. “Of course not. It was just him and me and the children.”
Matri withdrew her hand and made a disgusted sound. “You’re putting all your faith in your boyfriend?” She spat the words out like venom.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my friend. And yes, I have every faith he will come rescue us.”
She crossed her arms over her flat chest. “How can you be so sure he’ll come?”
“Because we’re his family,” I said simply. “Besides, Zed is the most pig-headed person in history. If he decides he’s going to save us, he will fight until his dying breath to make it happen.”
The anger in her eyes dissipated and was replaced by a small spark. “Oh, to be young and dumb again.”
“Hey!”
She patted my hand. “Sorry, dear, but it’s true. It’s nice you have so much faith in your friend, but it’s going to take a lot more than wishes to free you from this hell.”
I rose and paced away from the cot. Her words had sparked a black flame of doubt in my belly. It burned away some of the hope I’d been nurturing and left me unsure. If I didn’t move, I’d cry, and I refused to give in that easily. “He’ll come, and when he does, the Troika won’t know what hit them.”
“You said he doesn’t have an army,” she pointed out, her voice not as unkind as it was before.
“If I know Zed, he’ll go to the Scribe.”
Her brows rose. “You know Saga?”
I shook my head. “Never met him, but Zed told me lots of stories about the man in Book Mountain. If I had money, I’d bet it all on that being his first move.”
Matri laughed. “And he’ll find nothing. The Scribe is a myth created by the rebels. Just like that Meridian Six bitch.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know who that is, but I know Zed. He’s coming.”
She rose and sucked at the few teeth remaining in her mouth. Finally, she pursed her lips and tilted her head at me. “Then it will be up to you and me to make sure that when they arrive, the people are ready.”
She came forward, spat in her palm, and held it out to me. I stared at the leathery skin for a moment, but then something happened. That black flame of doubt snuffed out and the bright light of hope exploded in my gut. I had no idea how or when Zed would arrive, but I knew that the woman standing in front of me was the right person to help me prepare for him. I spat in my palm and slapped it into hers. “Deal.”
Then we sat down and began mapping out our plans.
Fourteen
Meridian Six
Very little light penetrated the tiny cracks in the railcar’s walls. The rhythmic sound of the train’s wheels bouncing over the tracks would have been soothing had those wheels not been taking us closer to the vampire work camp with each passing second. Zed’s rapid breathing and the echo of my heartbeat pounding in my own ears were the only other sounds.
The car we’d ended up inside held several crates of supplies. As promised, one of them turned up two of the blue uniforms required for all prisoners of the Krovgorod camp. On the right breast of each was embroidered the downward-pointing arrow that the Troika used to identify humans of less desirable blood types.
“How did Saga manage this?” Zed asked.
“Where Saga is concerned, I’ve found it’s best not to ask.”
He accepted this with a nod, and, for a moment, we both stared down at the uniforms that would transform us from rebels into prisoners.
According to Icarus, prisoners were issued uniforms upon their induction into the camps and would have to wear the same one for six weeks before new ones were issued. If a prisoner died from illness or injury, the head prisoner in the deceased’s barracks was allowed to distribute the old uniform to anyone who needed it most. Icarus claimed people died so commonly it was rare for anyone to go the entire six weeks without a new uniform.
Zed and I donned our uniforms in silence. Once we had them on, I threw our clothes out the door of the train to remove any traces of us. The camp uniform was the cleanest and newest clothing I’d worn since I’d escaped the Troika months earlier. I’d been wearing the too-big pants, too-tight shoes, and dirty work shirt for months. I’d stolen them from Saga’s junkyard after the dress the Sisters of Crimson had given me got too dirty to salvage. How long ago had it been since Sister Agrippa helped me escape into the tunnels? I’d lost track of the days and weeks since I’d escaped the Troika and landed in the rebels’ clutches.
“How long until we reach the camp?” Zed whispered.
“Not long.”
I moved toward another crate, where I found two pairs of gray canvas sneakers. Mine were too big but they were a blessing after the heavy but tight boots I’d worn before. “When we get there, remember to stay hidden until the first prisoners come in to start unloading. We’ll blend into the group and help unload until we can steal away to the barracks.”
“What if we get split up?”
“Icarus said children under the age of twelve are all kept in a separate barracks, overseen by a few female prisoners. If we get separated, we’ll meet up there.”
He didn’t say anything, but even in the dim light, I noted the sweat beading his brow and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. I put my hand on his shoulder. “This will work. It will. We just can’t lose our nerve. If the vamps smell fear on us, we’re toast.”
“Won’t all the humans be afraid?”
“They’ll be too busy trying to hang on to life to be afraid.”
He thought about this for a moment before nodding. His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep, bracing breath. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“If anything happens to me, save Bravo and Mica. Even if you have to leave me behind.”
I’d been expecting him to ask me to promise not to leave him. Instead, he wanted me to sacrifice him to save the people he considered his family. I heard the words clearly but they didn’t quite register as a concrete idea in my head. The thought of martyring myself for anyone was so foreign he might as well have made his request in Russian or Aramaic. Was there anyone alive that I’d sacrifice myself for?
Rabbit. The name popped into my head so fast I didn’t have time to consciously realize I’d been the one to think it. Icarus and Dare had had my back a few times and I theirs, but if shit went down I’d save myself over them every time. But Rabbit was different. In the months since I’d joined the rebels, I’d grown to care for the scamp as if he was my own younger sibling—or child. Like the child the Troika had ripped from my belly because it had the misfortune to lose the genetic lottery and have a desirable blood type. I’m sure the psychologists who worked back before the Blood Wars would have had a field day analyzing that relationship, but I didn’t give a damn. I would put myself in front of a bullet to make sure that kid had a chance at a future. He was the only one, though.
But Zed? He had protected and worried about Bravo and the children under his care for years, like a father, despite his young age. I couldn’t begin to imagine the protective instincts I had for
Rabbit increased by a factor of years and multiplied by seven souls.
“I told you I’d do everything in my power to avoid having to make that kind of choice on this mission.”
His hand touched mine. “Meridia—”
I flinched. Hearing my Troika name—the one the rebels now used to rally humans to their cause—coming from his mouth was like a slap. I didn’t want him to see me like that. Like the pawn everyone else believed me to be.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was low, as if in the dim light everything took on the import of a secret.
“Can you call me Carmina?”
“Is that your real name?” he asked carefully.
I suddenly felt like the awkward one. “Meridian Six is what the vamps called me.”
He paused for a moment. “Carmina it is, then.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. There was something about this guy—a kindness—that I wasn’t used to and wasn’t sure I wanted to get too comfortable with.
“What I was going to say was whether we want to make tough choices or not, we’ll have to make them. It’s inevitable. I need you to promise me that you will get my family out of the camp.”
“I said I would,” I snapped. Just like that, the fragile bubble that had surrounded us imploded. “But you need to understand that blowing up that mine is my ticket to freedom. It has to be my priority.”
His silence damned me.
“Don’t you get it?” I carried on. “That’s why I agreed to let you come. You focus on getting your family out and I’ll focus on getting my freedom. We both win.”
He smiled at me, but the expression was patronizing rather than agreeable. I suddenly felt like the worst sort of failure before the damned mission had even begun. Luckily, a hot flare of anger burned that shame off quickly. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said, my voice lowering to a mean register. “You don’t know me or what I’ve been through.”
