The blood pounds deafeningly in my ears. This can’t be happening. My greatest fear.
“You said she’d be safe there!” I hiss. “I could have taken her with me!”
“Amy, she was safe. How was I supposed to know Dr. Reynolds would take her?”
“You should have contacted me sooner.”
“You don’t know what it’s like here now. Everything’s changed. I’m not even in charge of the Guardians anymore. Marcus is. He could try to kill me at any time.”
“I’m coming back. To get her. Now.”
“Amy, you can’t.”
“Why? What happened?” There is a pause. “Kay? Are you there?”
“When you escaped, Dr. Reynolds went nuts.” I can hear the regret in her voice over telling me. “The doctors in the Ward, the Guardians, even your mother. Everyone was punished.”
“And Rice?” I wince at the concern in my voice, but I can’t help it.
“He’s fine. He wasn’t suspected.”
In spite of myself, I’m flooded with relief.
“I’ve got to get Baby out of there.”
“No. You’ve got to go to Fort Black and find my brother. Ken. That’s how you can help Baby.”
“Why? What can he do?”
“He’s a researcher. For New Hope. But he’s in Fort Black working on developing a Florae vaccine.”
“Why?”
“New subjects. Also, Dr. Reynolds doesn’t want all his researchers in one place. So he’s got a lab set up there.”
“What does that have to do with Baby? What can Ken do for her?”
“He’s ruthless about his research. He’d do anything to get a test subject like Baby for himself, even if it means breaking her out of New Hope. And he could do it. He’s been with Reynolds for a long time, since before the Floraes. He has access.”
“But he just wants to run tests on her too!”
“Yes, but you could monitor the situation. You could protect her. As long as she’s away from Reynolds.”
My mind races. She’s right. I could never take on New Hope alone. This is the only option.
“But where—”
“Gotta go. Someone’s coming. Be—”
“Kay?” For several minutes I yell her name, but she doesn’t respond. Kay’s gone.
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CHAPTER FOUR
I try to get some sleep, but after a couple of hours I give up. I need to leave, to get to Fort Black. I pack up everything the Guardians outfitted me with when I left: my Guardian gun, with spare clips, my water filter, a map. My sonic emitter. I’ve barely used my gun, so I still have plenty of ammunition. I throw my backpack over my shoulder and pause to look around. The tree house has done me well these past few months, but I won’t miss the solitude.
It takes eight hours to reach Fort Black by foot. I could have made it in less, but I didn’t want to push myself and arrive exhausted. The journey is surprisingly uneventful. Nothing more than a long, tense walk, my backpack biting into my shoulders. If it weren’t for the synth-suit, my skin would be wet with sweat. Even though it controls my temperature, I was still pretty hot once the day broke, my face sweating in the early morning sun. I sighted some Florae, but they backed up when I got close, fleeing from the emitter waves. I silently thank Rice for the gift (he gave it to Kay) and Vivian, who invented it.
The bigger danger is other people. I have no idea what things are like at Fort Black, or how often people leave to scavenge. I’m certain there are plenty of people who would kill me without a second thought if they knew what was in my pack.
Once I’m a mile out, I stop to rest on a highway overpass. A few years ago, this road would have been full of speeding cars. People hurrying to work, worried about getting to a meeting on time. Now there are no meetings. No work, other than to stay alive. The only cars now are abandoned, left to rust in the elements. My father used to go on a hippie anti-fossil-fuel rant about how the car-to-person ratio in America was nearly one to one. Now it’s a hundred thousand to one . . . give or take a few thousand. Not that a car would be much use to me. Sure, I could have made it the twenty miles very quickly, but I would have had to find a car with keys and plenty of gas. Besides, they make too much noise and I never learned to drive anyway.
I walk around one of the many abandoned cars to the edge of the highway and peer over the railing. I can see it now, in the distance: Fort Black. It takes me a moment to process what I’m looking at as I study the surrounding area. Then it hits me that Fort Black isn’t a fort at all.
Fort Black is a prison.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Formerly the Fort Black Correctional Facility, the walls of Fort Black jut up, cutting into and marring the blue-white sky. The sides of the great prison are three hundred feet high, at least, and laced at the top with two rows of barbed wire. There are few windows, and the ones that are visible are covered in thick metal bars. Around the Fort, there’s nothing but brown dusty earth.
I pull out my canteen from my pack and take a long sip of water, then look back and forth, surveying the area and the sun-scorched ground around the walls. A long ribbon of broken asphalt leads off to my left, linking the jail to the highway, which curves out of sight over the distant hill. I study the road from the top of that hill until it slips beneath me, under the overpass where I now rest, and disappears around the bend to my right. There are no Floraes that I can make out, yet my hand goes automatically to the emitter.
The feel of the small plastic device comforts me. I reach into my pack for my Guardian sunglasses—standard-issue, but better than the best binoculars. I adjust the zoom until I can see Fort Black as if I were standing next to it.
The place is humongous, its gray concrete more formidable than I’d originally thought. Men patrol the high, broad walls, armed with rifles. At each of the guard towers rests an immense crossbow on a thick post. Even from here, I can feel the hum of too many people living in a small space. The noise sets my skin tingling. It’s strange to hear it, after all the miles I traveled alone and in silence. Now that I’m so close, I can’t bring myself to walk the last stretch. I rummage inside my bag, allowing myself another sip of water and a bite of food. I don’t know when I’ll get to eat again, or if my food will be confiscated or stolen inside those dark walls.
I stand again, narrowing my eyes at the massive, dark structure. My mission: find Ken. He’s the only way to save Baby. I know it won’t be easy, but there’s a chance, a sliver of hope. And Kay will help if she can by contacting me on my earpiece. My hand goes to my ear to reassure me it’s still there, the one thing that can keep me in touch with Kay. It’s small, like one of those micro-hearing aids from Before. There are three buttons: The top one turns the earpiece on and off, the middle one activates the sound amplifier, and the bottom one calls in. When I was a Guardian, the earpiece was set to automatically call all the Guardians, but there’s a central hub in New Hope where all the earpieces are programmed. Gareth is a bit of a hacker and has mine deactivated remotely . . . until Kay needs to contact me.
A glint on the scorched landscape catches my eye and I snap my head up. A shape is moving quickly over the road toward the prison. I crouch down and turn on the sound amplifier on my earpiece, then quickly drop my hand to my Guardian glasses and zoom in on the figure.
It’s not a Florae. It’s a man.
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CHAPTER SIX
The man is on a bicycle, pedaling furiously. Something is wrong with his bike, though, and every few seconds it makes a grinding sound, like metal mo
ving against metal. Behind his bike is a hitched trailer, the kind parents used to haul their kids around Before. The trailer is filled to the brim with bundles of cloth and canned goods.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement, and then I see Them. Two Floraes have topped the rise on the highway. Their pea-green skin almost fades into the baked landscape, they’re milky, yellow eyes useless, but their heads move, searching for sound. The man’s bike makes that horrible grating noise again, and the Floraes focus their attention, quickly sprinting down the road to the prison, hot on the cyclist’s heels.
From the prison wall, an arrow flies through the air, narrowly missing the nearer of the two Floraes. Another arrow hits the second Florae in the shoulder, slowing it down slightly, but doing nothing to lessen its hunger, its craving for the man’s flesh. The first Florae is just a few feet away from the cyclist. Just when I’m certain the guy doesn’t have a chance, the first Florae drops to the ground. Because of its incredible speed, it skids a few feet before stopping completely. The second Florae is taken down just as I hear two loud cracks echo toward me.
I adjust my earpiece as the man stops at the gate and calls up, “Whewy, boys. That was a close one! Think you coulda taken ’em out a little sooner? Something on my bike crapped out a while back, and I thought I could make it okay. . . . Should have known better.” He gets off the bike, plants his hands on his knees and pants for a minute. He straightens and shoots a worried glance back the way he came, squinting up at the gate again.
“Don’t mean to be ungrateful or anything . . . that was some fine shooting. . . . But what say you fellas let me in now?” When they don’t respond, he adds, “I made a couple of really sweet finds out there. . . . You boys get first dibs, of course.” That does it. A small door next to the gate opens, and he rushes through, pushing his bike.
I take another sip of water to steel myself. I can’t stay out here forever, and those gunshots will bring more Floraes to the gates. My emitter has only a hundred-foot radius, and I should make a move while there’s a clear path. I don’t want anyone in Fort Black to see Them fleeing from me as I walk down. I’m not prepared to answer their questions.
Hefting my bag to my shoulder, I walk slowly toward the imposing walls of Fort Black and the unknown.
Eager, but cautious, I take my time, careful and alert as I make my way to the gate. As I approach, someone calls out, “Halt!” I can’t see the man who barks down at me from the top of the wall.
I stop dead and consider raising my hands in the air, but I don’t. Maybe I should have moved my Guardian gun to my pack, instead of wearing it at my hip. My heart pounding in my chest, I peer up at the gray concrete wall.
“I would like entrance to Fort Black!” I yell, trying to sound strong. I hear whispers, but I’m afraid if I reach to adjust my amplifier, I’ll be shot. I try mimicking the earlier man’s tone: “And if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be inside before the next batch of Floraes arrive.”
There are a few more moments of muttered voices before the door by the gate opens. I stay where I am and peer inside. It’s almost dark in there. It’s the interior of the wall, I realize, a dank corridor that must surround the prison.
“In or out.” I see two figures waiting for me. “Now or never.”
I cautiously step inside.
Two men, armed, stand there and as my eyes adjust—the hall is dimly lit with electric lights—I see one of the men grinning as he ogles my clinging synth-suit. The corridor smells sour after weeks of breathing fresh, clean air.
The door closes behind me with a loud bang. With a shudder, I realize I’m trapped.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
“It’s a girl,” the grinning man says. He’s young, probably still in his teens, with dusty blonde hair and dull eyes.
The second man moves closer, into the dim light. “Looks like a woman to me.” His eyes flick up from my body to my face then back down. He licks his lips as if I’m a tasty treat. He’s older, in his thirties at least, and towers over me. Bruises, red and purple, mark his face and arms.
“Who’ ja think she belongs to?” the first man asks, as though I can’t hear him. “I can’t see her arm through her clothes.”
I take a step back, but I know I can’t leave. If what Kay said was true, every minute is precious.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I spit.
They look at me as if I’m insane. Then the second man’s eyes light up. I can see now that there is some green to a few of his bruises from fights, new and old. He’s so large, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to scrap with him.
“You’ve never been here before?” he asks, a glint of surprise in his eyes.
I shake my head.
He licks his lips again. “Well, cupcake, welcome to Fort Black. Pete, go get Jacks.”
“But I saw her first, Tank,” Pete whines.
“Go. Get. Jacks,” Tank orders through clenched teeth. Pete turns sulkily and leaves through a door behind him, letting bright sunlight momentarily stream into the corridor.
Tank takes a step toward me and almost as a reflex, my gun is out of its holster and trained on his chest in seconds. “Don’t.”
It’s not how I wanted to arrive in Fort Black. I didn’t want to pull my gun, but I need to let him know I can protect myself. It’s only an intimidation tactic, but it seems to be working.
Tank truly looks at my face for the first time. “Hold on there, cupcake.” He hasn’t even had time to raise his shotgun at me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No. You’re not.” I keep the gun leveled at him.
“You don’t know how it works here, little girl,” he tells me. His forehead gleams with oily sweat. I realize the rank smell is actually coming from him. “I can teach you.” His eyes gleam.
My skin crawls at the idea of him teaching me anything. I want to back away from him, but I’ll look weak. I grip the gun harder to hide my shaking hand. I’m sure I’m faster than he is—most people his size aren’t very quick—but I might not get the separation I need to escape.
If he gets to me, the pure bulk of him will overwhelm me. I can’t let him any nearer. He needs to believe that I will shoot him. I need to believe it. I narrow my eyes at him as he stares at me, smirking.
Tank and I are still deadlocked when Pete returns with another youngish man. He’s slight, only a few inches taller than I am. He eyes us warily, me with my gun pointed at Tank.
Is he in charge here? Rice isn’t much older than I am either, and he was in charge of my intake in New Hope.
This new guy wears a loose-fitting T-shirt, showing off his arms, which are covered in elaborate tattoos. As he considers us, he pushes his hand through his dark brown hair, flashing a well-developed bicep.
Not so slight after all.
“See, Jacks?” Pete asks him. “Told-ja it was a girl.”
“You won’t need that just now,” he says, nodding at my gun. His voice betrays a slight Southern twang.
“I’m not giving it up.” My eyes flick to Tank.
“That’s fine. You can keep it,” Jacks says. “But, you know, maybe just drop the barrel for now?”
I stare at him as he looks at me. There’s something in his eyes—warmth and something more, honesty maybe. He watches me with a quiet understanding. His unexpected sincerity makes me listen to him. I hesitate another moment, then slowly lower my weapon, but keep it in my hand.
Tank snorts and mutters, “I’ll show you a big gun, cupcake.”
“Apologize,” Jacks says without raising his voice.
Tank still stares at me, but his cruel smile has been replaced with a tight, irritated frown.
Jacks speaks again, in the same calm tone. “I could make you.”
Tank grits his teeth. “Sorry, cupcake.”
Jacks turns to me ag
ain. “Now . . . cupcake, is it?”
Tank snickers.
“Amy. My name is Amy.”
“Amy.” Jacks smiles. “Yeah, that’s better.” He shoots a look at Tank. “People call themselves all kinds of stupid names these days.” Tank bristles, but Jacks ignores him.
“Pete says you’ve never been here before. So you’ll have to come with me.” He motions to Tank and Pete. “These two are staying here. I’m guessing you could probably use some fresh air after hanging with Tank for this long.”
Pete barks out a laugh and Tank gives Jacks a black look.
“My gun?” I ask, still debating if I should just run for the door.
“Hold on to it. No one will take it.” Jacks begins to walk down the corridor, deeper into the dark of Fort Black.
I hang back, thinking it through. I know it’s a risk to go with him, but what are my options? I’ve come all this way; I can’t let myself turn back now. Not with Baby’s safety at stake. I’m a trained Guardian and I’m well-armed. I can protect myself.
Pete giggles for no reason, and I’m suddenly aware I’ll be alone again with the two of them once Jacks turns the corner, out of sight. Pete is grinning stupidly at me, and Tank’s giving me that same, mouth-breathing leer.
I’m moving. Fast.
Tank laughs at my back. “See you around. When you’re all checked out, you come find me, you hear?”
Like hell I will. I stop, turn, and stare him down. I’ve survived the After. I’ve survived the Ward. I’m not going to let one repulsive man get to me.
But the look that Tank gives me chills me to the core. There is something less than human about the way he stares after me. I back away, then turn and hurry down the corridor after Jacks.
My adrenaline is up and my heart’s pounding, but I put my gun back in its holster and try to cool off.
In the End Page 2
