Raging Light: The Last Sanctuary Book Five

by Kyla Stone

  “Yes,” Willow said evenly, fighting down the burst of hope exploding inside her chest. “We would appreciate that.”

  Weppler swiped in a code, and the door to their cell swung open with a hiss. They were greeted by four more guards, all with guns.

  She was itching to drop-kick somebody. Preferably, several somebodies. But she resisted, forcing her fingers to unclench one by one. She’d promised to try it Finn’s way. For now.

  “Here goes nothing,” Willow muttered.

  9

  Micah

  “Guys,” Fiona said under her breath. Her finger froze mid-twirl, half a curl wrapped around her pinkie like a tiny scarlet snake. “Hostiles to your six. Five soldiers just rounded the corner across the street with their pets. They’re looking our way. I think we’ve just been made.”

  “Time to go,” Silas hissed. “Now!”

  Micah didn’t hesitate. He broke into a run. He raced along the moving sidewalk, jostling past pedestrians. Adrenaline iced his veins. He pumped his legs harder, breathing in the freezing air in harsh gasps.

  They’d been out scouting potential safe zones and hideouts for when the battle started. It had been a risk, one they shouldn’t have taken. He and Silas should have just stayed hidden away in the broken, abandoned biodome in the agricultural sector until it was time.

  If they were caught…well, they couldn’t be caught.

  “Go home,” Theo said to Kadek and Fiona as he sailed by, his arm muscles working like pistons, his chair’s wheels spinning so fast Micah couldn’t make out the spokes. “Wait for my signal.”

  “We’re not leaving you!” Fiona panted, keeping pace right at Micah’s heels.

  Micah risked a glance behind him. Half a dozen soldiers hustled only thirty yards back, sprinting along the road, transports dodging them with computerized efficiency. Three menacing, deadly nighthawks glided behind the soldiers like birds of prey.

  “I can activate our hacked nighthawks,” Theo huffed as they fled. His strong shoulders flexed as he powered his wheelchair as swiftly as Micah could sprint. “But it’s a last resort. If I activate even one, the Coalition will know what we can do.”

  “I know a safehouse,” Kadek said, gasping. “In sector six. But if the soldiers get too close, I won’t risk exposing them. We’ll be trapped.”

  Micah’s thighs burned. His lungs were on fire. But they couldn’t stop. Not yet. His glasses slid down his nose. He jammed them back into place. “We’ll just have to figure it out.”

  Fiona raced past Micah and Kadek, her brilliant red hair slipping out of her knit cap and streaming behind her. Silas kept pace beside her, barely winded. “What are you lollygagging around for? Let’s go!”

  They raced through the sectors, weaving between buildings, down alleys and side streets, the shouting of the soldiers and citizens behind them gradually fading. They were gaining ground. But not enough.

  “Shoot the cameras with this.” Theo thrust a vaguely gun-shaped object into Micah’s hand. “It not only deactivates them, it sends a virus into the hardware, effectively destroying the last twenty-four hours of feed. The Coalition will figure out the source eventually, but not by tomorrow. At least, I hope not.”

  “We need to buy time,” Fiona said.

  “There’s one more thing I can try. Don’t know if it’ll work, though.”

  “Do it already!” Silas gasped.

  “Activate Firefly,” Theo said into his Smartflex.

  As he sprinted, Micah aimed at the blinking, dome-shaped cams attached to the eaves and doorways of various buildings, hoping his aim was good enough, hoping he’d caught them all. Fiona was right. All they needed was a bit of time.

  Kadek turned sharply down a side street, nearly bowling Micah over. “Five houses down, at the end of this block. We can go the back way.”

  “Go!” Fiona cried. “Before the soldiers see us. Go!”

  The four of them cut across a manicured lawn bursting with flowering plants, the Sanctuary’s genetically-modified foliage nearly fluorescent green. They raced through a narrow alley, scrambling through several hedges. Fiona and Micah paused to shove the thick bushes aside for Theo to wheel through with a pained grunt. The knit cap covering Fiona’s fiery red hair slipped off her head. She bent to pick it up.

  Two buildings over, a surveillance drone rounded the southern side of one of the apartment complexes, tiny camera lenses blinking with a hundred shots per second.

  Fiona froze. “Oh, crap.”

  “Psst! In here! Hurry!” A middle-aged woman in a simple emerald-green shift and paisley scarf stood on the back doorstep to her apartment. Instead of looking startled or wary, she gestured to them. “Inside.”

  Breathlessly, Kadek pointed at the woman. “Safehouse.”

  The surveillance drones would spot them any second. Micah grabbed Fiona’s jacket sleeve and shoved her toward the door. She stumbled inside, followed by Kadek, Silas, and Micah, with Theo right behind them.

  The woman shut the door gently but firmly and leaned against it, her hand pressed to her stomach. She was a Hispanic woman in her late forties, fine lines around her dark eyes and full mouth. “My name is Luciana Chávez,” she said in a lilting South American accent. Her gaze slanted to Theo. “There are more of us on your side than you know. We hoped to meet soon, though this is a bit…unexpected.”

  Fiona clasped Luciana’s hands between her own. “Thank you so much.”

  The older woman nodded. “We must hide you. The soldiers are coming.”

  Theo held up one finger. “Wait,” he mouthed, and pointed at the window across the living room.

  Fiona and Micah peeked through the filmy lace curtains. A dozen nighthawks glided by, followed by several soldiers sprinting down the street. They didn’t stop or slow down. They didn’t check a single apartment on either side or scan the yards and alleys.

  Theo grinned broadly. “I figured out how to spoof my chip’s data stream to a separate chip, which I attached to one of the Coalition’s surveillance drones yesterday. I activated it just a few minutes ago. It’s taking them on a wild goose chase all over the Sanctuary.”

  Kadek bent over, his hands on his knees, his head down, still gasping for breath. “You could have told us earlier.”

  Theo shrugged. “I wasn’t sure it would work.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes as she shoved her curls back under her knit cap.

  Micah turned to Luciana. “Thank you for your help. You said others were on our side. Who are they?”

  “Please,” Luciana said. “Come this way.”

  They followed her through a living area with dimmed scarlet lights. Bubbles of different colors and sizes drifted across the polymer walls. The air was redolent with cinnamon and other rich spices Micah didn’t recognize.

  She led them into a large, brightly-colored kitchen, the walls lime-green, the chairs brocaded in shades of yellow. Vivid abstract paintings—real canvas, not digital—lined the walls. In the center of the room, a dozen people crowded around a round dining table. They stared at Micah and Theo with grim, serious expressions.

  An Indonesian man leaned against the counter. He was in his late thirties, with short, spiky hair and black-rimmed glasses. His rough-hewn face lit up when he saw Kadek. Kadek embraced him. “This is my uncle. I told you this was a safe place.”

  “We are all shocked and appalled by Mr. Black’s actions,” Luciana said. “But none of us believe it was just him, like the president claims. They are both members of the Coalition. What’s happening here—the curfews, the soldiers and drones and cameras everywhere, the way they require those shots—this isn’t freedom.”

  “We have plenty of room in the Sanctuary,” a young guy said from the table. “But they’ve stopped letting people in. My cousins and brother are still out there. It isn’t right.”

  “We know you’re from the Outerlands,” another woman said to Micah. “We know there are people still struggling to survive out there. I believe we can still help th
em, even though they’re carriers for the virus. There has to be something we can do. Hope still means something. And it can’t just be for us. I can’t live with that.”

  Kadek’s uncle focused his gaze on Micah and Silas. “We want to join you. We’re ready to fight.”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Theo pulled out his bag of gummy worms, a broad grin splitting his face. “I happen to have a plan.”

  10

  Willow

  Willow felt like her heart was about to thump right out of her chest. The cinderblock walls surrounding her pressed down on all sides. The concrete slab ceiling felt like it weighed a million tons. Pipes of various sizes ran along the walls and ceiling. Galvanized steel light fixtures lit the long hallway with harsh, flickering shadows.

  The guards escorting them opened a pair of metal doors to a large underground auditorium seating several hundred people. The seats were packed. People twisted, craning their necks to look back at Willow and Finn, their expressions curious, confused, suspicious, and hostile.

  Baseball-cap guy held Benjie back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Willow hissed, fear and anger jolting through her. She tried to twist free from her guard, but he only tightened his grip. She still had her knife hidden inside her boot, but she’d made a promise. Diplomacy first. But if they tried anything with Benjie, diplomacy would be the first thing to go.

  “Camila is one of our teachers.” Baseball-cap guy gestured at a petite, middle-aged Hispanic woman with a kind smile standing across the hall. “We thought it might be best if your little brother got a bite to eat while we talked. We don’t usually allow children in our town hall meetings, so everyone may speak freely without worrying about innocent ears.”

  Willow glanced from Camila to Finn to Benjie. Finn nodded. She gritted her teeth. She hated the thought of letting her brother out of her sight, but their words made sense.

  “There’s a small conference room right here,” Camila said gently, pointing to a wooden door behind her. Through the narrow, rectangular window in the door, Willow glimpsed a conference table and two little dark-haired girls Benjie’s age bent over digital drawing pads. They were smiling and munching on rolls of freshly baked bread.

  “Those are my daughters,” Camila said. “I thought your brother would like some company, though he’ll need to sit at the opposite end of the table and keep his gloves on, and his mask, too, when he’s not eating.” Camila squatted down in front of Benjie. “Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Benjie said politely.

  “As soon as you’re finished, you may come right here and get him, I promise.” The corners of Camila’s eyes crinkled as she offered a kind smile. She reminded Willow a bit of her lola, her Filipina grandma, who cooked tapsilog and nilagang baka, gave great hugs, and always made her grandchildren remove their shoes and wear slippers inside their cramped apartment.

  Still, she hesitated.

  Benjie looked up at her, his small chin lifted. “Lo, Lo,” he said valiantly, “I’ll be okay.”

  His eyes were so bright it made her heart hurt. He was so good, so strong, so courageous. He’d braved the cold and dark of the wilderness without complaint. He’d attacked a bear to save Finn. Now here he was, comforting her when he was the one about to be left behind.

  Finn took her hand in his, enveloping her fingers, offering reassurance. Willow blew out a breath. She didn’t want to leave her brother, but they were right. She and Finn needed to give this everything they had. She needed these people to trust her, so she had to trust them back—at least a little. “Okay. I’ll be right back, Benjie. I promise.”

  She watched Camila lead Benjie into the conference room. Then she turned and faced the auditorium full of hostile strangers.

  Baseball-cap guy walked behind them, his gun pointed down along his thigh but holding one all the same. They strode down the middle aisle. Hundreds of people gave them sidelong glances and spoke in hushed whispers as she and Finn passed.

  A rectangular table stood on the stage. Four men and five women, nine people in total, sat behind it. There was a podium on the floor before the stage with a small microphone hovering a foot above it. Willow and Finn stood behind the podium, looking up at the men and women at the table, the auditorium of people at their backs.

  There was something familiar about the man sitting the furthest to the right. Willow stared at him, gaping.

  She blinked. He was still there.

  He was an older Latino man in his sixties, with a full head of silver hair and thick, bushy eyebrows. The senator who knew Amelia and Silas. She searched her memory for his name. Senator López. From the Grand Voyager.

  He, Meredith Cooper-something-or-other, and a bunch of other elites had parted ways with Willow’s group shortly after their naval transport was ambushed outside of Macon, Georgia. As they’d left, Senator López had relieved Elise Black of her gun. Willow remembered that clearly. But during the two weeks they’d spent in quarantine, he’d always been kind and clear-headed.

  Senator López stared at her now, his brow wrinkling. He recognized her, too.

  She didn’t know yet if this was a good or bad thing. She prayed for good, even as she tried to remember if she’d been sarcastic or disrespectful toward him. She didn’t think so. And Jericho, Silas, and Micah had gotten López out of that ambushed transport alive. Hopefully, that was a favor that would be returned today.

  Someone stood in the first row of seats to Willow’s left, snagging her attention. It was Raven. Shadow wasn’t with her. She was alone. And she looked awful. She was pale and sweating, her black hair sticking to her damp forehead and neck. Her hands shook at her sides.

  Willow’s heart jolted. The thought roared instinctively through her mind: Infection.

  But no, that wasn’t right. Raven wasn’t sick—she was claustrophobic, Willow realized with a start. Raven had said over and over that she didn’t like to be penned in, that she could never live in the Settlement, even though her mother was there. This was why.

  Willow understood completely. They would both prefer to be above the surface. If this was bad for Willow, it must be hell for Raven, who’d been raised in the wilderness, running free through endless forests beneath an open sky.

  Raven took a step toward her. Her limp was more pronounced here, in this ugly concrete bunker surrounded by suspicious strangers. But her head was held high, her chin up. She looked as tough and fearless as she had the day she faced down the rabid dogs back at the warehouse.

  “Are you okay?” Willow whispered. “You came back.”

  “I wasn’t going to leave you. Even though you deserved it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Willow said, chagrined.

  I’ve spoken for you to the Council.” Raven’s voice was strained, her throat raspy. “It’s all I can do.”

  “Thank you,” Willow said, and meant it with all of her heart.

  Senator López stood and made his way down the stage steps to where Willow and Finn waited. He smiled broadly and embraced Willow. “It is such a pleasure to see you both alive and well!” he said, pulling back to look at them. Something in his eyes dimmed. “Are you two the only…the only ones left?”

  “No,” Finn said. “Benjie is here with us. Amelia, Silas, and Elise Black are alive. So are Micah, Gabriel, and Celeste. But we’ve lost people. Nadira and Jericho are dead. And Tyler Horne.”

  “Jericho is only dead because Horne was a traitorous bastard,” Willow said before she could stop herself.

  López shook his head sadly. “I am truly sorry to hear that. Nadira and Jericho were both good people.”

  “How did you end up here?” Finn asked. “I thought you were trying to get back to the naval base in Jacksonville.”

  “That is a long, complicated story,” López said. “One I fear is much like thousands of similar tales of hardship and heartbreak. When society breaks down, there are too many people willing to turn on their own kind to survive. I fea
r we should have stayed together rather than parted ways and divided our strength. We had hoped the navy would send us another military transport after ours was ambushed. We were mistaken in that hope. We were mistaken in many things.”

  He sighed heavily. “There were seven of us in the beginning. Do you remember Meredith Jackson-Cooper?”

  Willow nodded, though she only recalled a haughty attitude, a taut smile, and a helmet of yellow hair. “The Big Pharma CEO lady.”

  “She was the first to go. She was attacked by an infected raccoon when we entered an abandoned house without checking it closely enough. The rest went quickly: three to infection, two to men without conscience. Once I was the only survivor, I decided to change course and head north, toward Chattanooga. I had a sister there, but I had little to no hope of finding her alive.

  “About two months ago, I stumbled upon Raven instead. Or more accurately, she followed me until she determined I wasn’t a threat, then introduced herself and brought me to the Settlement. She saved me.”

  Willow’s gaze snapped to Raven in surprise.

  Raven stared right back. “You think you were the only ones I found?”

  “I’m glad you made it, Senator López,” Finn said, gently redirecting the conversation. “The Settlement must be good people, if you stayed.”

  “Most of them.” Senator López scrutinized Finn and Willow, his bushy brows lowering. “But they are cautious. And careful. They haven’t survived this long by being foolish.”

  “We aren’t foolish,” Willow said. “We have something very important to say.”

  A woman sitting at the table on the stage cleared her throat and beckoned to Senator López to rejoin them.

  “I will listen with an open mind,” Senator López said. “I can promise nothing more.”

  “Fair enough,” Finn said. “That’s all we can ask.”

  “We better ask for a hell of a lot more than that,” Willow muttered.