Alarum (Walking Shadows Book 1)

by Talis Jones

Time ticks by slowly as an hour crawls by. I hear heavy boot steps approaching the door and my head jerks up from where I was resting it upon my hands. I carefully replace my façade of cold indifference as the door slides open on greased hinges. A man dressed in a starched black military suit steps inside with all the confidence of a king. He seats himself before me graceful as a snake and my façade shatters.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand shocked.

  Kommander Williams, or Shade as I knew him, smirks. “Martial Price has been trying to ask you that for the past hour.”

  “Not trying,” I assure him. “He asked quite successfully, it’s just the answers he seemed dissatisfied with.”

  “So different,” he murmurs quietly, more to himself than to me.

  “Yeah, thanks for that,” I bite acidly. I could have sworn I saw him flinch at my words but in the shadows of this cell I toss the idea aside. Ridiculous. “Who are you here?” I croak.

  “I’m the head of Information and Interrogation for the Eastern states of the Pacific Confederation,” he reveals, picking an invisible piece of lint off of his sleeve.

  “What yarn are you spinning?” I wonder dubiously.

  Shade ignores my skepticism. “You told Price that your name is Fury,” he muses.

  “Because it is.”

  He nods accepting the information. “And I know all about you and where you came from,” he continues.

  I squirm uneasily in my seat. “Do you?” I challenge.

  He smiles. “You know I do. And I’ve got to tell you that Lucas Helmsworth wants your head on a stake for what you did to his son.” He notices the discomfort in my eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I don’t care about his pathetic spawn. I only followed your bloody trail so far until I got bored and changed jobs.”

  I remain silent but can’t help the relief crawling down my spine.

  “So,” he begins, leaning forwards with his elbows propped upon the table. “Why are you here, Fury?”

  A laugh barks out of my throat. “I came here for you.”

  Shade’s eyebrows shoot up in clear surprise. “Why on earth would you try to infiltrate one of the most ruthless and secure countries on this continent just to see me?”

  “We thought you were a prisoner here, not their effing leader,” I spit angrily.

  “We?” Concern ripples through him with questions he must be burning to ask but he stays calm. Shade was always calm. Calm and cold. Why I was ever infatuated with him I’ll never know. “Ah, you and the other fool they caught.”

  “That fool is your brother,” I tell him. “He rushed over here to try and rescue you only to be imprisoned by the one person he’d die to save.”

  It’s Shade’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “If what you say is true—”

  “Help us.” The words don’t come out so much as a plea as a demand.

  His eyes narrow shrewdly as they search my face for secrets written upon them in a language he was born reading. I can see the indecision clear in his coal-black eyes and it sickens me. His own brother…

  “Follow me,” he orders curtly.

  I swallow my fear and my surprise as they dance with hesitance. Standing up slowly I follow him out the door, down the halls, up a glossy elevator, and into a private office.

  “Sit,” he orders.

  There are two straight-backed wooden chairs polished to dark perfection placed before an impressive desk of shining oak. I seat myself cautiously. My eyes never leave his tall dark form as it walks behind his desk, his hand reaching out to slide open a secret panel. His fingers flip a series of switches and I eye him curiously.

  “To ensure our conversation is private,” he explains.

  Of course, his office is likely fitted with hidden cameras and microphones and other security devices. He must be important indeed if he has the ability to turn them off. Then again you don’t gather secrets and sell them for cheap.

  “Stay,” he warns. Then without another word he pivots and disappears down the elevator.

  I tap my foot impatiently or perhaps nervously but whatever boldness I had in the cell has dissipated. I turn my head to take in his spacious office swathed in dark furniture and the Confederation’s flag. Simple but lavish and intimidating. Curiosity tingles in my fingertips but reason beats that impulse down thoroughly. I remain seated.

  I hardly wait twenty minutes before Shade returns with Riker in tow. Relief washes over Riker’s face the moment he sees me seated and whole.

  “Why do I have to keep my cuffs on if he doesn’t?” I complain motioning towards Riker’s unbound wrists.

  “Because between the two of you I trust you not at all,” Shade states in clipped tones of blunt honesty.

  “Take them off,” Riker growls protectively.

  With a barely contained roll of his eyes Shade strides over and unlocks the metal clinging to my wrists. “Sit,” he orders his brother. As for himself he slithers around the desk and perches himself comfortably in the plush leather chair behind it. His sharp eyes note the matching plain metal bands we wear on our fingers but makes no comment. “Now explain yourselves.”

  I lean back signaling for Riker to speak for us. He tells his brother about the old man’s letter, Frank, and all the need-to-know details in between. After he’s finished Shade regards us both carefully, his fingers tented together and resting gently before his lips. Whether he thinks we’re suicidal fools or childish heroes, I don’t know. We stay transfixed by his gaze and held tight in the grip of a heavy silence pushing down on our heads.

  “You are very different,” he observes softly, breaking the growing tension at last. “And yet you are very much the same. Hero would be proud of you.”

  My hackles rise at the sound of Hero’s name on Shade’s lips. Disgust tightens my eyes while Riker sits uneasy beside me. “Help us or kill us but don’t play with your food,” I growl darkly.

  A tiny smile quirks the corner of his mouth. With a sigh he places his hands down lightly upon his desk and looks between us, a glint of conspiratorial excitement sparking in his demeanor.

  “Your best option would be to enter as refugees. The Rochester Alliance, unlike the Pacific who forbids outsiders or the Coalition who simply doesn’t care, welcomes all refugees. However to stay and earn citizenship they must first undergo an intense screening such as IQ tests, physical exams, blood analysis, DNA mapping, and other meticulous measures for approval.

  Assuming you pass the screening to their satisfaction then you will be granted temporary civilian status. You are given two weeks to live “freely” but it is their final test to see how you interact and fit within their society. Once you pass that final step you will be granted full citizenship and have an identification chip implanted in your arm allowing you access to food, housing, transportation, and other privileges. The entire screening process can take anywhere between two to six months.”

  My mouth falls open utterly aghast. “We can’t wait six bloody months!” I protest.

  Riker has a different question pestering his mind. “What happens if we don’t pass their tests?” he asks seriously. “If we aren’t approved as citizens, what happens? Are we shipped back over the border?”

  Grim displeasure settles over Shade. “You will be used for research, whatever that may require. You could be assigned to something as simple as a nutrition project or something more complex.”

  “Complex?” Riker pushes worriedly.

  “You don’t make an American pie without breaking a few eggs first,” he admits, disapproval clear in his voice.

  In the back of my mind his attitude strikes me as ironic but I push it aside focusing back on the issue. I want to argue against his information but you don’t juggle world leaders without the assurance of knowledge in your pocket. While I was sleeping in the dirt Shade had upped his game. While I swept out my master’s house he had pocketed enough secrets to begin climbing a ladder that keeps him far and away from the slavery he was for
ged in.

  “We can’t wait six months, or even two months,” I insist. “It’ll take us long enough to even get there. We can’t waste more time, even now we might already be too late.”

  Shade’s inscrutable gaze falls over me as he breathes in deeply. “Even if you did go through the official process and pass with flying colors you’d still need to gain access to a high-security government research facility, which standard citizenship would not grant you.” He pauses before adding, “But assuming my theory is correct…”

  “What theory?” Riker asks.

  He ignores him, his eyes never leaving my own. “If you stumble across their border as a wounded refugee they’ll be forced to treat your injuries before putting you through the screening. When they do that they’ll undoubtedly run a blood test and DNA analysis, an efficient logical choice.”

  “So?” I breathe, still not seeing what he is trying so hard for me to see. He looks at me even harder as if challenging me to finish his thoughts.

  “I suspect they will grant you clearance,” he answers vaguely.

  “Why?” I whisper, my skin crawling at some fear I don’t even understand.

  “Spit it out,” Riker warns darkly.

  Shade snaps out of his stare and settles back in his chair. “I’ve given you your best course of action. If you’d like a stronger guarantee then I’ll need to run a test of my own.”

  “Like hell you do,” I object vehemently.

  “You must be crazy if you think we’d let you turn us into lab rats for you to play with,” Riker agrees.

  “I think you’re crazy for every damn decision you’ve made since you met her,” he challenges his little brother angrily.

  Riker looks as if his brother’s words had slapped him. Not in shock or fear, but in a hardened stubborn hatred. He half rises out of his seat but I place my hand upon his arm to calm him. Grudgingly he sits back down.

  “I won’t have you strung up by the Alliance for chasing a fool’s errand,” Shade warns coldly. “Either subject yourself to my test and receive my aid or try to fight your way out of here before I finish speaking this very advice. Here in the Pacific Confederation we don’t take kindly to outsiders, in fact my orders are to extract any information I can then execute you swiftly. Choose.”

  Riker’s face turns into a slab of pure loathing, both at his brother and at our lack of options. We’d never escape this place on our own, it had taken them minutes to capture us the moment we first stepped foot across the wall. For the thousandth time I ask myself why it feels so damn important to save some kid I don’t know. He could be dead for all I know, yet something about the way the old man wrote in his journal about him made me think that wasn’t the case. His grandson was important. He was an innocent life and we might be the only ones who can save him. Besides that the reality of Sanctuary keeps Connors’ ghost alive in my heart. It was a choice, and yet it wasn’t.

  “What do we have to do?” I ask carefully.

  “Just you,” he smiles.

  “Will it hurt?” It’s a stupid question and yet the words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. I’m not sure I want to know because my decision is already made.

  Shade tilts his head. “Only if you let it.” He leans in slightly as if imparting a secret. “I’m going to push you over the edge and reel you back up over and over again until you learn to fling yourself off all on your own.”

  I lean in, my eyes trying in vain to read his secrets. “What are you looking for?”

  He smiles. “Proof that Sofia Ramsey still lives.”

  CHAPTER 38

  9 YEARS AGO

  Red dust crumbles beneath my hands as I grip the bars jammed in the brick ledge. The sounds of a truck engine and the shouts of men drew me to this window. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, Shade liked to say. I balance on my toes as my eyes stare out across the frost-covered field.

  Hot clouds follow behind as the large truck stops and its doors are hauled open. They’ve found more unknowns to be collared. Apparently I was part of their startup, now they only take orphans or those caught wandering just a bit too far from home. Or so they say. Sweat freezes to the metal bars as helplessness fills me. I watch the kids marching in line and my eyes catch on a little boy with bright orange hair. He can’t be more than seven years old. After his hair the thing I notice most is his terror. Everyone’s scared but he seems petrified.

  My breath catches as I see the boss saunter over and grasp the boy’s small shoulder in his rough hand. A smile of brandy and ice points his mouth as he reaches up to take a toothpick from his teeth. With winter’s cold air they stand just close enough for me to overhear the boss’ words.

  “Your mother couldn’t hide you from me, boy. Now you’d better toughen up because she’s not coming to get ya. Go get the good education I’m offering.” The boy moves to rejoin the line of kids but the boss holds him firm. I see his fingers squeeze down hard. “Don’t disappoint me, son.”

  With that the boy stumbles free and falls into line but as the boss looks up I duck down out of sight. My heart races but my blood is frozen in my veins. How could anyone be so cruel to their own child?

  The boss’ son gets named Piglet. He only lasts for four months.

  He dies from eating poison berries. He thought he’d stumbled over a lucky find, a small branch poking through a crack in the crumbling wall. He was hungry and he believed in luck. But those berries were untouched because the rest of us knew what they were. No one bothered to stop him, or maybe they didn’t see him, or maybe they just didn’t care to notice.

  I could’ve stopped him.

  I saw the glee that lit up his face when he found them. I saw how he eyed them all that day, all that week, all that month just a bit too afraid to take them. I saw Rat pretend to eat one and lick her fingers with delight.

  I didn’t see when he finally gave in but I knew what he’d been thinking and I didn’t stop him. The next time a kid needs help I’m gonna give it to them.

  One day I’ll be brave or stupid enough to keep that promise.

  I turn my head and cover my ears. My nose wrinkles at the tang of fresh blood. It’s another culling taking place. Shame burns my lungs and settles heavy in my stomach…but one day… One day I’ll do it. One day…

  CHAPTER 39

  I wait in a drab holding cell built out of oppression, depression, and aggression. Three shades of gray box me in as I wait reclined against the cold wall. Two days. Forty-eight hours. Two thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes. One hundred and seventy-two thousand eight hundred seconds trickle by with no sight nor sound of Shade or his brother. My eyes stare holes into the ceiling as my heart beats erratically. With palms slick with nervous sweat I push up my glasses and try to slow my breathing as I wait for what’s to come.

  A test, he said. So many secrets hide in those eyes but right now this is the only one I care about. My mind twists yearning to know how Shade discovered my birth name but I can't focus on that now. There's no time.

  With an ominous squeal the cell door swings open and I hoist myself up, stacking my bones one on top of the other until I’m standing. Flanked by two Martials I’m escorted to a large room. Don’t get too excited, it’s just more concrete decorated in totalitarian chic. Although the size has me curious. A large square space fills my sight and my feet cross its threshold. To one side a mirror runs the length of the room.

  An eerie static pop and crackle preamble Shade’s voice as it filters through a speaker. “Save yourself.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand alert and I turn to see the two guards who marched me here followed by a third stalking towards me. I notice their lack of weapons but still panic flutters deep in my stomach. I step back but they continue prowling towards me.

  “What is this?” I demand, my voice echoing bluntly around the room. They try to surround me, corralling me like the pathetic creature I am. I’ve faced more terrors than most and yet trapped in this ro
om I’m suddenly afraid. Years of learning how to choke down my panic vanish as my mind refuses to focus on anything but the sadistic tone in Shade’s command and the knowledge that I’m about to be torn apart by three massive Martials.

  With a jolt of panic I realize I’ve backed myself into a corner. I need to gather my wits, smack myself across the face, focus, something. But it’s too late and I cower. The Martial closest to me raises his fist

  And

  I

  Flinch.

  A habit I’d long left behind laughs in my face humiliating me in front of Shade, the one person I most want to be fearless and cold towards.

  “Halt.” Shade’s voice freezes the Martials’ movements and they step back, nothing more than soldier automatons.

  Furious I practically leap away from the corner as I shout, “What sort of game is this, Shade?”

  “No game,” he says. “Just a helpful push.”

  The mirror melts into a milky white then clears like clouds in the wind to reveal a transparent window and I see him. I see Shade standing there watching me with his cold calculating eyes and beside him Riker stands under guard, his face set. I can tell he’s angry but he’s controlling it.

  Shade regards me closely then smiles like he’s solved a tricky riddle. Turning to the Martial watching Riker he says something I can’t hear. I see the Martial nod and suddenly Riker’s being hauled out of the observation room.

  “What are you doing with him?” I shout, a touch of frenzy in my throat.

  “Giving you a better incentive,” is all he says.

  The door I entered through swings open and my stomach clenches as I watch Riker being shoved inside, his arm locked in the iron fist of a man who could be Goliath himself. The Martial holds a gun against his prisoner’s temple. Riker locks his eyes on mine and I don’t look away as Shade explains the new rules.

  “My men will attack you one by one until you’ve defeated them or fail. They are all that stands between you and Riker. Fight them and win or Martial Nilsson will execute him.”