New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series

by Jennifer Wilson

  The bombs were Baxter’s idea. Alone, they were practically useless as bait, but combined with Zeek’s genius hacking skills, phase two of our plan was almost complete.

  Fandrin had kept most of the sectors outside of The Tower without power. He wanted to keep us hungry and in the dark. It was a smart tactic. Scared and hungry people tended to make poor decisions. What he was too arrogant to realize, was that those of us from Tartarus had been scared and hungry for generations. It was what drove us. Yes, Fandrin had cut our power, but he had kept the cameras alive. This was his second mistake.

  If the cameras had power, Zeek could hack them. And hack them he did.

  All of the feeds outside The Tower had been under our control for nearly a week. And we were using it to our advantage. Contrived sightings had been leaked into the feed to let the Ministry think they had the upper hand, but they only saw what we wanted them to. Right now, they saw hundreds of us bearing down on their precious Tower. What they didn’t know, was that the feed placed us blocks ahead of our real location. Gage’s bombs were being deployed, exactly as anticipated, but instead of finding us, they were met with our trigger bombs. There was no way to know how many Gage had managed to make, or how many he had left, but Ryker brought up a point I had to agree with. Gage was foolish, impatient and arrogant. If he thought we were coming for him, he would throw everything he had at us. I hoped we were right.

  I was counting the explosions, ticking off the numbers. Three more and we could move in. The toe of my boot inched forward. Each explosion was bringing down a layer of defense for the Ministry.

  Two more.

  I leaned forward, preparing to launch into motion.

  “Prea?” A hesitant voice popped in my head. I twitched, looking around. No one else had heard it. The feed had been spliced to my headset alone. A prickling sensation stirred at the base of my neck.

  “Petra?” I whispered. I could hear her breathing. Another bomb went off, closer again.

  “Petra?” I hissed, pulling upright from my crouch. I half turned to Triven. The panic on my face registered immediately. He lowered his gun, trying to read me. “What—” He started to ask, but I waved him off, listening.

  “Tell me she’s fine.” I closed my eyes and grabbed Triven’s arm for support.

  “Prea, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know how she escaped. She just slipped out… I think she’s heading to you.” There was a tremor in Petra’s voice. “Prea, she took my tactical gear.”

  There was no doubt in my mind where Mouse was headed, and it wasn’t to me. She had been muttering his name in her sleep, training like she intended to kill. Training for revenge. I should have seen it for what it was. I should have known. I whipped back to scan The Tower, staring at the illuminated glass windows that stretched toward the sky. She wouldn’t need a map to find her brother. Mouse was headed this way, I was sure of it. She was coming for Gage. And there was no way I was going to let her arrive first, alone.

  I surged forward, breaking the line. Shouts erupted, people calling me back, but I ignored them. Ryker’s face was right behind me, shoving aside startled people to follow. He was quick on my heels and there was only one person it could be. Triven huffed next to me.

  “Mouse?”

  “She’s going for Gage.” I panted.

  We both picked up the pace. A series of expletives broke over the line and I could hear Archer following us. Arstid called for her team to hold, but our team began to break rank.

  A handful of people hesitated, but soon they were following us. I ran straight at The Tower. Mouse couldn’t make it there first. I wouldn’t let her. If she found Gage before I could, if he hurt her… My vision went red.

  The smoke grew thicker as we neared one of the blast sites. I barreled toward the destroyed streets. My eyes danced ahead, picking my path ten paces in advance. One misstep, and I would break a leg. Bricks, mortar and broken concrete littered the ground, but there were no bodies.

  “Cover!” Thadd screamed over the coms.

  Triven hurled himself over me. We slammed into the ground as an explosion pounded the air.

  “ENGAGE!” Ryker barked over the earpieces.

  The last bomb had detonated. Gage’s toys were obliterated and now everyone would be charging. The blast was close, but not close enough to slow me down. Bits of rubble rained down around us but I was already pushing to my feet, springing out from under Triven’s protective weight. He grabbed a fistful of my jacket, shoving us forward.

  A sulfuric stench burned my eyes. Tears began to blur the streets, making the lights emanating from Fandrin’s Tower sparkle. I swiped them away with the back of my hand. The crackle of flames and crashes of crumbling buildings faded. Hundreds of running feet shook the ground and battle cries rose. We hit the final clearing. A band of grass encompassed the massive building, but the once green lawn had soured, turning it brown. We would be exposed here, but there were no other choices. Screams rose louder as we closed in on our mark. Hundreds of people swarmed from the damaged buildings surrounding The Tower. Weapons were held high and the mass of people charged like water overflowing a dam. My feet carried me toward The Tower, but my eyes were everywhere. Searching for threats, looking for Mouse. The open ground flooded with versions of Ryker and myself.

  Gunshots boomed from above. A woman to my right with her own face dropped like a stone. Her body was swallowed by the crowd, trampled by those behind her. I searched the top of the building, but couldn’t see their snipers. Four more bodies in our unit hit the ground before Arstid made the call. “NOW!”

  I yanked Zeek’s black box from my hip pocket and jammed a thumb onto the trigger. Scattered around the building, fifty others were doing the very same thing. The box clicked and I could feel the pulsation in my bones. The night shivered with the surge of power. Then The Tower’s lights wavered, the electronic masks flickered and then, as anticipated, the snipers’ shots ceased.

  I tossed the box discarding the carcass. The EMP—electromagnetic pulse— devices only packed enough juice for a one time use per unit. They weren’t enough to take out the entire building’s power grid, nor were they meant to. But they could fry specific smaller devices for a short period of time. Zeek’s frequency targeted Sanctuary weapons alone. For the next twenty minutes, all Sanctuary-grade weapons would be little more than fancy clubs and ordinary knives. The short gap of time was all we needed.

  The Sanctuary’s weapons were superior in every way, except one. They needed power. Tartarus guns ran on hammer-action, gun powder and Old World mechanics. And better than that, our homemade weapons needed no mechanical engagement at all. If you could swing a bat—throw a knife—no power was needed, just a little skill and a whole lot of anger. We were well equipped with both.

  Our warriors carried weapons from both of the two worlds. Our ancient weapons would get us inside and when the power finally returned to Sanctuary’s arsenal, our stolen weapons would level the playing field.

  The structure rose above us as we closed in on our team’s target—the transport doors. The massive doors shuddered and then rolled upward.

  A mob of people surged out. Silver suits shone in the mass, but these weren’t just soldiers pouring from the doors. Black and red war paint mingled with the uniforms.

  My entire body went numb as a familiar battle cry rose against our own. Fandrin’s pet dogs had been let out of their cage.

  The Ravagers had joined the fray.

  41. POWER

  I DREW MY guns, firing a line to clear our path. The soldiers slowed, realizing their guns were no longer working. A few stopped, eyes widening as they considered our numbers and their useless weapons. Several hung back, unsure of what to do. The bold rushed forward, flipping their firearms into clubs. I targeted those soldiers.

  Colors ceased to exist, and I stopped thinking about who I was shooting. In this moment, anyone in my way was the enemy. We had agreed to wound most of the soldiers, not kill. But unlike Triven, I shot them with no remorse.
This was not the time for mercy, not in the throes of battle. A spared life now could be a knife in the back later.

  There was no time to waste. I had to find Mouse.

  The gap separating the side was narrowing quickly and at ten feet away, my chambers emptied. Holstering one gun, I freed a knife. I could see the whites of the Ravagers’ eyes, smell the stench of their yellowed teeth. They took in our matching faces in surprise, but didn't falter. Only the soldiers took pause. My face meant little to the Ravagers. But it would after tonight. How appropriate that my mother’s eyes would be the last thing most of them saw.

  Two steps before we clashed, I lunged and flipped the other handgun in my grasp. Grabbing the muzzle, I kicked off the ground and launched myself into the mob of Ravagers. The butt of my gun smashed down on a skull as my knife plunged into another.

  The world around me swirled. Knives slashed, guns swung brandished like clubs, and fists flew. Years of training took over and my movements flowed naturally. The few blows that landed slid off, and no blade so much as kissed my skin. Triven fought at my side, our backs grazing each other as we moved in unison.

  I caught a glimpse of one of my lookalikes bludgeoning anyone who came within reach. She wielded a huge mallet laced with spikes. A skull tattoo covered her hand and she was laughing maniacally with each swing. Like their leader, the Taciturns were taking violence to a new level with every Ravager. And the sentiment was returned. The Ravagers fought with no restraint, and the savagery was quickly escalating.

  Weapons and bodies clashed brutally. Metal sang against metal. Bones broke and the mortally wounded fell. My feet trampled the dead littering the ground. Slowly the mass of bodies began to thin. A small team burst though The Ministry's line. Triven and I were among those at the front. I hurtled toward the open bay doors. Five people sprinted ahead of us.

  Voices were shouting in my ear, calling out orders. From the sounds, we were advancing. Then an explosion rocked the ground. My feet staggered but I kept them moving forward. There were screams of pain over the earpiece. Apparently, Gage hadn’t sent out all his bombs. But the heat from them never reached us. The bombs must have detonated on the opposite side of the building. The yelling escalated in our ears, but we ran on. There was nothing we could do from here. Nothing but get inside and hope to stop the battle from within.

  With a loud screech, the bay doors began to close. Once shut they would be damn near impossible to reopen. A huge man leading the assault slammed himself into the closing door. He caught the bottom as it reached his thighs and pulled with all his strength. He screamed with the effort to hold it. As the man struggled, his face smashed against the metal surface and the shield clipped to his ear fell free. Grenald’s face appeared, red and sweating. Veins popped in his forearms and neck. Triven rushed forward to help him. Stooping, I snatched a soldier’s discarded rifle from the ground and hurled myself under the door. I slid past the Grenald’s legs and as I passed underneath, I wedged the rifle in the narrowing opening.

  A body slid in at the other end. When she popped up, her spiked mallet jammed the opposite side of the door. Sedia grinned through my borrowed face, then twisted sideways. The door clanged as a knife slammed into the thick surface. The tip narrowly missed both Sedia’s head and Grenald’s fingers.

  The knife flew from my hand as I rolled to a crouch, quickly reloading my gun. There were scattering footsteps and then bullets began to fly. I screamed at those coming through the door to wait. A bullet hit Grenald’s leg and he crumpled. Triven dove out of sight. The wedges Sedia and I had placed held, for now. Fifteen Ravagers squared off in the center of the garage, their piercings glinting in the dim lights. The huge room held a few transport vehicles lining the walls and offered little cover. Cat calls screeched out as Sedia and I lurched to our feet, fresh weapons drawn. The Taciturn ripped the earpiece from her head and let out a horrific battle cry. She wanted them to know who they were fighting, who was going to kill them. We opened fire at the same time and I charged at the Ravagers. Our people on the outside of the door only needed a few seconds of cover to get in. Several of the Ravagers scattered, while others took the bullets. Several fell, but they weren’t dying, not even bleeding. They grinned up at us. Fandrin had given them body armor.

  “Head!” I screamed at Sedia. She didn’t miss a beat, shooting a woman between the eyes. People were streaming in behind us and my clip emptied. I dove behind a pillar as a round of bullets riddled the opposite side. I pulled the clip to reload but dropped the gun as a nail-laced bat swung at my face. I ducked, rolling away just as the bat smashed into the column. One of the nails grazed my scalp. Twice more the club swung down on me and I barely missed getting crushed. From a distance my suit could somewhat protect me, but blunt force trauma at this range and I would be dead. As the man swung upward the third time, I spun, kicking his feet out from under him. He slammed into the floor, both club and head cracking on the ground.

  I wanted to search for Triven in the fight, to see if he was okay, but the man I loved had disappeared into the sea of replicated faces. Maybe that was part of Ryker’s plan. With the masks in place the enemy couldn’t see individual faces, but neither could we. Our loved ones had disappeared from sight, making it impossible to worry about them. To get distracted. It was horrible and genius.

  The Ravager on the ground groaned. A bullet exploded the Tribesman’s head and a shadow slipped out from behind a transport vehicle. It wasn’t one of ours, but another Ravager. Metal spikes protruded from his face, nose and ears. Even the red eyepatch covering his right eye was decked out with metal thorns.

  There was no mistaking that face. It was in a dark alley. His taunts had turned to screams as my dagger took his eye. It appeared I wasn’t the only one recalling that night. The Ravager snarled, advancing on me. A huge rusted blade twisted in one of his hands, a gun pointed at me in the other. I took a few careful retreating steps. The fight behind him was intensifying. Both Ravagers and rebels alike were squeezing through the door. No one paid attention the two us. No one would notice I was cornered. My gun was still by the pillar behind him. I could see it, lying just out of reach, utterly useless. I pulled two knives free from under my vest and flipped them in my hands. The Ravager stopped. His eye flickered from the knives to my face.

  If he didn’t recognize me before, he did now.

  I grinned, spinning the knives again. “You know, it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye—oops! Too late.”

  Roaring, he did exactly as I wanted. The Tribesman threw down the gun, and went in for the close, personal kill. He hauled his blade high overhead, winding up. Instead of drawing away, I hurdled toward him, slipping under his arms just as they reached their peak height. Pushing up as hard as I could, I buried my knives under the left side of his ribcage and thrust skyward. The Ravager made a terrible wheezing sound as I punctured his lung. The heavy blade clattered to the ground. His grubby hand pushed against my shoulders, grabbed weakly around my throat, but I held him tight against me.

  He gasped desperately, then spit in my face. I snarled, pulling him closer with the knives. “For my parents.”

  Ramming my knee upward, I dislodged my knives and let the dead Ravager fall to the ground. I stood there staring at the battle raging by the door. My hands were shaking, skin hot with his blood. For years, I had dreamed of revenge for my parents’ deaths, but now all I felt was empty.

  I started when a voice spoke in my ear.

  “Garage level taken!” It was Ryker.

  Thawing to life, I snatched up my fallen gun and ran for the entrance, the dead Ravager already forgotten. People were sliding under the door in masses, but they were our people. I snagged a Ryker who stumbled in. He was covered in blood and shaking. A small backpack rested on his shoulders under layers of Wraith furs and war paint.

  “Get us online. Fast.” I hissed at Zeek. “Find her.”

  His disguise was perfect, a Ryker mask with a Wraith costume. Looking at the man, no one would
suspect the Sanctuary’s best hacker was hidden in plain sight. We needed him to blend in. To disappear from The Ministry’s radar and get to a security room. From there, he could hack The Tower’s feeds and we would no longer be fighting blind.

  Though I couldn’t see his real face, I was sure he was in shock. Zeek didn’t say anything but began stumbling to his right toward a discrete door in the wall. I whistled and five more lookalikes appeared, encircling the hacker. Without further instruction, they hustled Zeek away. Three other teams split off, disappearing down halls and through doors.

  I ran through the garage, letting memory guide me to the main floor. We had scoured the blueprints the rebels had drawn for us, the layouts flickering through my thoughts, guiding my feet. I remembered shooting my guns, thrusting with knives, but it passed in a blur. Stranger yet, we met little resistance. It was too easy. The stairwell thundered with our footsteps and then the door was flying open and we poured into The Tower’s main lobby. The space was blindingly white, and covered in blood. The front doors had been blown wide, the white surroundings singed black.

  It was bedlam.

  I tried to pause, to assess the scene, but the bodies pouring out from the stairwell shoved me forward. As I got closer, I could see the fighters. Ravagers, Wraiths, Taciturns, rebels and soldiers battled for every inch of ground.

  A hand caught my elbow and yanked me sideways. I followed the broad shoulders without hesitation. As we skirted the fight, I reached up and yanked the projector from his ear. Triven’s face instantly returned and I took an easier breath. I needed his face. Needed to know he was okay. Ryker’s plan be damned.

  Triven pulled me around a corner away from the battle. I searched the crowd, looking for Mouse. Shockingly, we outnumbered them. With their weapons rendered unusable, we were overtaking the Ministry’s militia. We had assumed a few of his own soldiers might turn on the oppressive leader, but more than anticipated seemed to be switching their allegiance. Soldiers were changing to our side, some were even taking out the Ravagers, their intended allies. I wanted to feel hopeful that we might win, but as I searched for Mouse, the rising terror cause by her absence was all consuming. What if she was still outside? What if she never made it this far? Panic flared and then Triven grabbed my arm. He was pointing up to the back of the room. Instead of the child we loved, we found her brother and my grandfather.