by Talis Jones
“We’re looking for Shade,” Riker reveals cautiously. “I need to talk to him.”
“Your brother, huh?” Frank’s light demeanor drops away replaced with a touch of frigid satisfaction. “He’s locked up. Bit off more than he could chew.”
“What are you talking about,” Riker snaps urgently, worry marring his brow. “Where the hell is he?”
“Your brother impressed Lucas a fair amount. Enough to become his favorite spy, but he got cocky. He went sneaking across the border into the P.C. and got himself caught.” Frank looks Riker up and down. “I’d say I was sorry but I’m too relieved that the rest of us don’t have to hear his damn name praised morning noon and night anymore.”
A moment scrapes past on broken knees while Riker figures out how to unlock his jaw. “Do you know where in the Confederation he’s being held?”
Frank shrugs. “He’s in the Colorado prison. No place special. I don’t think they figured out who he was, just that he didn’t belong.”
“Thanks,” Riker accepts curtly. He moves to push past him and I follow suit but Frank throws out an arm spinning Riker back around and I raise my gun in the same breath.
Frank ignores me and somehow this riles me more than his taunts. “Don’t go getting any crazy ideas. Each sector in the Pacific Confederation has its own Kommander overseeing the territory. Not like here where there’s so much dead space it’s easy to slip through the cracks. The moment you step foot over there everyone will know you’re an intruder and you’ll be dead before you can say ‘Oh shit.’”
“I’ve got to get my brother, Frank,” Riker snaps coolly.
Frank nods a bit glumly. “I get it,” he sighs. Then he straightens up and fixes Riker with an honest stare. “I won’t tell anybody, Shadow. Not about you being here tonight and not about your brother. I might’ve hated Shade but you I always liked.” There’s something in his smile that makes my skin crawl and I’m anxious to bolt.
Riker smiles back. “I appreciate your promise.” Pulling Frank into a warm brotherly embrace he whispers, “But your promises don’t mean shit.” Pulling away Frank sputters as his legs give out and he collapses onto the floor, blood pooling around him as he gasps. Gasp, wheeze, croak, shiver, dead. Riker wipes the bloody knife he’d stolen from Frank’s belt on his pants before pocketing it.
“What—” but I manage no more words before he grabs my hand and starts hauling me out. We run a different route than from whence we came until at last we stumble out of a garbage chute and into the fading moonlight. Practically teleporting into the trees we disappear and don’t let our feet slow until we’ve reached the Grounder.
“How the hell did we get away with that?” I ask panting, my hand clutching the stitch in my side.
“They were understaffed, we knew their schedule and rough layout, we chose their least active hour, and Frank chose not to turn us in,” Riker lists panting about as hard as I am.
“Yeah but still—”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Fury,” Riker chides. “If you do we’ll be here until our bones are gone.”
“I still don’t like it,” I mutter. “I feel as though we’re using up all our luck too quickly.”
“Maybe the world knows we won’t be around long enough to use it up before we’re gone,” he suggests.
“And do us a kindness by providing it all upfront?” I gasp incredulously. “Nah, I know that’s not it.”
We flop onto the ground flat on our backs. Riker’s hand finds mine and his tone is no longer teasing when he opens his mouth. “Do you still want to find Shade?”
I say nothing for a while. The Pacific Confederation is nothing like the rowdy outlaws of the Southern Coalition but then again the Rochester Alliance is rumored to be even more impossible to penetrate. We need Shade to have any hope of getting into the R.A. So it’s either brave crossing the country’s borders or put aside any notions of rescuing some kid we don’t even know.
“I don’t particularly want to die, Riker,” I murmur slowly. “And getting to your brother puts the odds of death much higher than I’d like. But I also don’t want to die knowing I let some kid stay trapped and abandoned and tested on like some lab rat.”
“If you want to save this kid then we’re going to save him,” Riker promises. “I think you know as well as I do that we’re not long for this world unless we change our ways and hightail it out of here, so I guess we might as well die doing something good.”
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
“That’s a yes, Fury.”
I prop myself up on my elbow and twist to look down at his face. “You’re not mad at me are you?” The last thing I want is for Riker to be dragging his heels and resenting my insanity.
“Fury, if I’ve loved you this long then there’s no way your desire to do something noble is going to change that.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and shift so he can get up. “Wait, where are ya going?” I thought we were sorta having a moment…
Riker tries to free his hand but I don’t let him go. “Fury, either you let me go or I’m dragging you with me.”
“Tell me what you’re up to,” I ask suspiciously, pursing my lips.
“I’m gonna water a tree.”
I release his hand so fast I forget to catch myself and fall on my rump. My cheeks turn bright red as his laughter teases me long after he’s disappeared into the trees for some privacy. “If I gas on your pillow it serves you right!” I shout at him angrily. Of course while I might be a touch wild I still have some of the manners my Momma ground into me. In short, I’m too ladylike to ever follow through on my threat but knowing that Riker would do it in a heartbeat makes me even more annoyed at myself.
Pressing my palms over my eyes I let the chilling decision settle over me. I wish I could take it back, change my mind, but more than that I wish I was brave enough not to feel that way.
CHAPTER 37
“You never told me who Frank was,” I mention casually as I fiddle with the radio. It’ll just take mere hours to reach the Pacific wall in the Grounder. We’d only taken the morning to gear up. There wasn’t much point in delaying seeing as we’d have to wing most of our plan, which is to say we had no plan.
“He wasn’t part of the Corral,” Riker explains. “He worked at the S.C. Government station in Kentucky. Shade worked for the Corral but left a few months after you did. He was always good at reading people, gathering information and secrets as easily as if they were thrown at him. When Lucas came to check out the Tennessee Corral Shade caught his eye and left with him.
I saw him from time to time whenever I delivered reports between the Corral and the station. Which is how I knew the basic layout of the one here. They sent me up there for a couple months hoping I’d be a second Shade and that’s when I met Frank. Nice enough when he wants to be, hopeless as a spy compared to Shade, and downright cruel to the Corral kids sold to Lucas to work at the station.”
“Would he have kept his promise?” I ask. “About not telling anyone we were there?”
Riker barks out a short laugh. “I doubt it. It’s too good to keep to himself. He’d want to try and use it to his own advantage especially since Shade’s out of the picture.” His knuckles whiten as they grip the gearstick. “But even if he did mean it I’d still have killed him slow for all the things he did back in Kentucky.”
His tone tells me to drop the subject so I do. I take the truths he’s shared and fold them again and again and again until they're as small as I can fold them and tuck them away in my box of history. Unpleasant things go in there because they’re important enough to shape us but too corrosive to dwell on. I have lots of little boxes in my mind nowadays.
It seems the older I get, the more life I live, and the more boxes I gotta make. So I do. I take planks of pity stained ochre with regret and bind them together with steel nails of adamant. Locked up tight where nothing can touch me so long as forgiveness keeps its nosy lock-picking fingers far away.
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Hours have slipped through the glass faster than I’m comfortable with. My stomach tenses in knots but my face remains at ease. We leave the Grounder good and hidden before changing into our carefully pressed gray civilian uniforms fresh from the black market. When I mentioned taking the morning to gather supplies this is all I meant. Just a small town peddler with more in his cart than the honest eye can see.
Riker weaves my hair into a tight braid down my back and I sprinkle water on my fingers to smooth down his stubborn hair cowlick. “Ready?” he winks.
I let out a slow breath. “Ready.”
We pick our way through the woods careful of snagging our fresh clothes until we stand not five feet from a wall of concrete towering higher than the trees beating down its sides. “No more vague answers and mischievous winks,” I growl sternly. “Tell me how we’re getting past this wall.”
There’s no gate as far as I can see, I don’t even know if there is a gate somewhere. But I know that all civilians of the P.C. carry identification cards, not to mention they’re not allowed beyond the walls so even if we had ID cards there’d still be no way through a gate if one even exists.”
Riker puts up his hands in surrender and fixes me with a straight face. “You run through it.”
“I told you no more lies,” I snap impatiently, fear churning in my belly.
“I’m not lying, Fury,” he swears. “This wall is just an illusion, a projection, a hologram or somesuch. Their security is tight to be sure but they rely mostly on fear. For example, this wall functions entirely on their fear. Their fear to run, their fear to touch it, their fear to even look at it too long incase they’re caught and questioned.”
“There’s no way that would work,” I argue. “Someone would have tried it and blown the whole secret.”
Riker shakes his head. “You’d be surprised how easily and completely fear can control people. I’m sure some have breached its borders, how else would you explain the black market that carries their goods, but those people either keep their mouths shut or they have a bullet in their skull.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’ve spent more time out in the world than you have,” he reminds me. “And Shade isn’t immune to the human need to talk, he just chooses his companions carefully. Me, for example. And my brother talked to me a lot.”
I search his face for even a sliver of a lie but I find no fault cracking his mask. “Fine,” I sigh. “So I just…run? Through a giant concrete wall? Like a knife through butter?”
“Even easier because the wall isn’t really there,” he assures me. “Just believe that with your whole heart and you’ll slide through it like air.”
I hesitate a moment longer then decide to quit being childish and go for it. I take another step back then plow face first into the most solid wall I’ve ever felt. Spitting out the blood gushing from my nose I pick myself up off the ground shoving Riker’s helpful arms away from me.
“You liar!” I screech punching him hard in the chest.
“Careful of your clothes!” he reminds me, holding out a hankie from his pocket.
I snatch the cloth square from him angrily and staunch the flow of blood grateful that it hadn’t splattered all over me. The bleeding is short lived. I didn’t hit it as hard as I might’ve if I hadn’t…if I hadn’t hit the brakes a split second before colliding into the wall…
“Tell me the truth,” I growl, eyes narrowed and no desire for Riker’s usual relaxed manner.
“Fury,” he sighs apologetically. “If you hadn’t hesitated at the last second…” He grips my shoulders and looks into my eyes straight. “You have to believe the wall isn’t there. I told you, it works off of fear. If you’re afraid of hitting the wall then you will. It’s just an electrical charge that knocks you back but it feels about the same. I was telling you the truth. The wall isn’t really there. Walk through like it’s invisible and besides a weird electrical tingling in your bones you’ll come out the other side just fine.”
“I’m still mad at you,” I grumble. Shoving him aside I hold my chin high, shake out my hands, and stride right through the very solid-looking barrier. As I push through I feel my body slow to what seems like a crawl as little electrical tingles shudder up and down my body. What feels like minutes are only seconds and I’m standing on the other side looking out onto a world of gray.
Riker appears a moment later and his eyes go round just like mine at the sight laid before us. We stand like ants atop a hill and below spreads a maze of concrete and might. The stench of fear mingles with the frigid fist of absolute rule. Shaking off a sight we could never have imagined we rush quickly down the grassy hill staggering and sliding down its sculpted steep slope carved out like a monster had tried to claw its way out.
We were fools. Utter fools to think we could simply slip inside unseen. The Pacific Confederation is a far cry from the wild dust lands where hearts of bravery and fistfuls of dynamite could blast apart the impossible. Rocks slide under our feet as we hasten to scramble down to cover but we’ve already been seen. Not two minutes on Pacific soil and we’ve been caught.
Shouts rise up, orders are tossed over our heads, sweat beads across our brows while cool uniformity smooths theirs. Sirens shatter all possibilities shunting civilians off the streets that we tear down and sending Martials our way.
Nowhere to go. Nowhere to go. I turn and turn but Martials stream in from all sides. Nowhere to go. My hand flicks towards my concealed weapon but Riker stops me. It’ll just make things worse. Reluctantly we grind our knees onto concrete and place our hands on the back of our heads. We’re cuffed and prodded roughly with sleek semi-automatic rifles.
One, two, three, four,…
I count our steps to keep myself from allowing my panic to rise like a hundred foot wave. I hardly register the terrified faces that watch our procession down the streets heading towards a tall dark formidable building.
This city is pristine, angular, devoid of any warmth. Large banners hang down the front of the government fortress we’re aimed at bearing the flag of the Pacific Confederation – a grey stripe stretching to grasp the far corners from top-left to bottom-right, a red five-point star sitting proudly in the upper left, and all of it glaring boldly on a black cloth as dark as an abyss. The entire aesthetic makes my bones chip with frost. It does not boast, it’s not fanciful or rank with ego. It’s simple, crisp, clean, boldly stating in calm tones its utter superiority as a basic fact.
Once inside its walls we are separated. A Martial shoves me inside an interrogation room as I assume another does to Riker. Summoning all my willpower I remain calm. Calmly I walk to the chair bolted behind the table. Calmly I seat myself. Calmly I fold my hands together resting them upon the table’s cold metallic surface. Calmly I await my interrogator. I do not have to wait particularly long.
A man with short black hair struts inside full of confidence and predatory grace. He looks at me as if I’m little more than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I look at him as if he’s not even there. We fight in silence, he standing, I sitting, eyes locked in battle. At last his mouth twitches down. It’s just for a moment but a moment I witnessed. Victor.
“Perhaps you should sit?” I suggest politely gesturing to the seat across from mine. Red shocks my sight as he backhands me across the face. But he sits. I allow myself the barest of smiles.
“Name,” he barks.
“That really depends,” I reply honestly. “I’ve had many names. To which one are you referring?”
He clenches his jaw tight as if he’d very much like to hit me again but he keeps himself in check. “Who are you?”
“That’s not a much better question,” I chide him. “In fact that is perhaps the single most complex question any human being can be asked to answer.”
“You are not a citizen of the Pacific Confederation,” he states it like a question.
I tilt my head but maintain my cool disinterest. “I don’t see why else
I would bother wearing these ugly clothes,” I counter.
“Where are you from?” he snaps, eyes narrowed in distinct dislike.
“Many places,” I confess.
“What are you doing here?” he growls. “What is your purpose? Your ploy?”
I sigh. “Once again you ask a question with many possible answers.”
“Answer me!” he barks, a little spittle flying from his lips.
“I’m here because your men dragged me here.”
His arm whips out and strikes me.
“My sole purpose is yet to be decided. Can any person have but one purpose?”
Another crack across my jaw splits my lip.
“If I were to have a plot, which I’m not saying I do, I wouldn’t give it to a lemming like you,” I hiss finally allowing a crack in my façade.
“What is your name?” he barks.
I say nothing.
“Where are you from?”
Silence.
“What is your purpose?”
Nothing.
“Name,” he roars frustration building obscenely by the look of his reddening face.
He lifts his hand to strike me again but I lean back in my chair and smile. It’s a smile that suggests a touch of madness. “Fury,” I answer.
He hesitates. “Your name is Fury?”
I wink. “Third time’s the charm, no?”
“Where are you from?”
“A place you’ve never been.”
“Why are you here?”
“Curiosity.”
Standing abruptly he knocks on the door. A Martial standing guard outside opens it. “Send for Kommander Williams,” he mutters. “This one’s not cooperating.”
“Well that’s not true,” I protest with mock offense. “I’ve lied not once you cheeky bastard.”
The Martial gives me one look of pure loathing before exiting and slamming the door locking me in the gloom all alone.
