by J. Andersen
Kate rests her hand on his forearm. “Thank you.” He brushes her off. “Just go.”
We enter the tunnel, and the door clicks shut behind us. Kate and I stand there a moment listening as the soldiers catch up to Saul.
“Open the door, Goodman!”
“Go back to your post, McGarrity. There’s nothing to see here.”
“You’re letting them get away.”
“I let no one get away. You forget yourself, Tier Five. Who is in charge here?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Now, get back to your posts. I’ll take care to see you aren’t punished for questioning a higher authority. If you do as I say, that is.”
I’ve heard enough. “Let’s go,” I tell Kate. And we descend into the tunnel that grows darker with each step.
****
Up ahead, flashlight beams bounce around the tunnel walls, giving us a goal to reach for. By the time we catch up to the group, the tunnel has changed. The cement blocks make way for stone and dirt, much like the walls of the Hidden City. Soon, the tiled floor turns to soil, and the air turns cold and wet. The smell of earth and mildew hangs heavy as we creep deeper and deeper into the ground. Or maybe we’re moving upward. It’s hard to tell. The tunnel seems to go on forever before we hear someone up ahead call out, “Dead end!”
For a moment, I think Saul has led us to our graves. But Jaxon’s voice reaches through the darkness. “Stairs. And metal doors above us.”
Three other guys join Jaxon at the doors and use the butts of their guns to bang on the ceiling. After a few thrusts, the doors burst open, and we crawl out into the afternoon light. About five hundred yards be-hind us is the military training cabin. Open forest and the river stretch out in front of us. If we can make it there without being detected, we’ll reach the Outerlands.
TWENTY ONE
WEAK
(SAUL)
I have to admit, witnessing the whole exchange between that Jaxon guy and Kate was beautiful. The look on Pennington’s face when he first saw his friend locking lips with his girl was the sweetest moment I’ve had in a long time. I swear I couldn’t have ripped his heart out more effectively if I’d tried. Hopefully, he’s suffering more than he lets on because he seems to be dealing quite well.
And that other chick, Jessica? I’d love to roam around inside that mind of hers for a while. I’ll bet there’s some good stuff in there. Something worthy of revenge. We’d have fun together, I’m sure. Too bad they’re on their way back to the Hidden City.
When my phone rings, I don’t even have to answer to know who’s calling. “Yes, sir,” I say.
“Meet me in my office immediately.”
“Yes, Doctor Fishgold. I’ll—”
I don’t get to finish before he hangs up. Without hesitation, I march straight there. The next phase of my scheme to destroy the rebels is about to begin.
Fishgold’s office is lined with computer screens. Surveillance videos from all over The Institute play in real time. On others, GPS coordinates indicate the tracking of certain individuals. Enemies of the state.
Once the implant has healed, Micah will be added to the tracking system. It would be easy to invade the enemy territory to destroy it. All we’ll have to do is send an army there to wipe out the community. We could do it now if I told anyone I know where the entrance is. However, I’m holding that information till the perfect moment. Fishgold won’t just go in and kill them all anyway. He’s like me in that he prefers to destroy his nemeses a bit at a time, making them suffer. Giving them a tiny ray of hope before squelching it. Perhaps this commonality is what has helped me rise through the ranks so quickly.
When I enter his office, he’s standing behind an enormous desk, arms crossed, gazing out the window over the grounds of the main square. “I hear your mission went as intended.”
“Yes, sir. The rebels escaped with Mr. Pennington.”
“I’ve given you leeway here, Mr. Goodman. Tell me how the rest of this is going to work.”
“Well, sir. They trust me now. If not trust, at the very least, they owe me. I’m going to collect on that as soon as they think they’re comfort-able again. My plan will destroy Katherine Dennard, and the ripple effect will take the others down as well. You can count on making an example out of her. It’ll teach anyone willing to defy The Institute to think twice. Once she’s in my hands, I’ll draw the other rebels out of hiding. They’ll attack. Guaranteed. Then you can destroy them at your will. No one will put any of the blame on you.”
He turns toward me, and his eyes practically twinkle at the idea. Placing both hands on the desk in front of him, he says, “Perfect. Let’s hear the details.”
Here’s where I take a huge risk. “Unfortunately, sir, I need you to trust me on this one. Leave the details up to me. I’ll fill you in as soon as possible. The less you know, the better. Then the blame lies with others, and your hands are clean.”
Inside, I’m wincing for the blow that’s sure to come. His forehead twitches, and the way Fishgold clenches his jaw and fists at the same time tells me he’s considering it. Eventually, he relaxes, and a sinister grin spreads across his face.
“Very well, Mr. Goodman. Don’t make me regret this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
****
I take my time getting back to the training cabin, knowing that underneath the earth, the rebels are traveling the same path. Hopefully, they’ve already made it past the borders to the Outerlands. Listen to me ... hoping the enemy has escaped safely. What’s wrong with me? If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d gone crazy. But it will all come together in the end.
Inside, a few men relax on a short break. As soon as they see me enter, they jump to their feet at attention. “G’afternoon, sir. Anything we can do for you?”
“At ease, gentlemen. But stick around. I might have an errand for you to run momentarily.” Sitting in the wheeled chair at my desk, I pull out a piece of paper and craft the next step in words. It feels odd, putting pen to paper, after dealing daily with technology. The prying, curious eyes of my subordinates watch as I clumsily scratch away.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen? Or shall I find some menial work to keep you busy while I do my business?”
They know what menial work means when I say it, and they immediately apologize. “Sorry, sir.” Then they retreat to the far side of the room and mumble to themselves.
“What was that?” I demand.
“Sorry, sir!”
When I finish writing, I lean back in the chair and reread what I’ve written.
I seal the envelope, flip it over and scrawl “Kate” on the front side.
“Smith!” I yell.
He’s by my side in seconds. “Deliver this letter to these coordinates.” I scratch the numbers on his hand with my pen, making sure to press deep into his skin. “Post it to the door and leave. Johnson,” I turn to-ward the other man, “accompany Smith on this mission and report back to me by oh-two-hundred.”
“That’s the middle of the night, sir.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, sir!” They march outside.
For a sliver of time, part of me doesn’t want to go through with this. But stopping now would go against everything I stand for. I don’t want to think about it, but my mind wanders back to hours ago when I let them all go into the tunnel. The way she looked at me with thanks and admiration. The way her hand rested too briefly on my arm.
I disregard the twinge of empathy and dredge up the memories of her initial rejection, back so many months ago. Personally, I don’t care that she rejected me as long as it was because she was afraid of what I might do. However, such a rejection cannot go unpunished. No matter how sweet she is or how much she’s grown to admire the power I wield, she made a choice back then. Now I’ll make sure fearing me will be the thing that controls her.
Living even for a millisecond in what-might-have-been will only make me weak. And I’ll n
ever let myself grow weak. Especially not over a woman.
TWENTY TWO
CHICKEN
(KATE)
We’ve been walking for hours. My feet hurt, my ankle throbs, and my back is lame from holding up Micah, but I don’t complain. Not as long as I can feel him next to me.
Most of the time, we don’t say a word. Just being near to each other is enough, but I know that soon, we’ll have to talk about what happened back there. Until then, I keep my eyes on the forest around me, hoping to see something I recognize.
Everything looks familiar. A low hanging tree branch, a pile of boulders, a bend in the trail, and I swear this is the same way I came when I escaped with Brody months ago. But it can’t be. I had no idea where I was going; instead, I just floundered in the dark. In my back pocket is a reminder of that journey, a reassurance that we’ll be okay. My little frog. It’s such a small thing, but it helps keep my mind positive.
“Hey, look at this,” Micah says, reaching out toward a branch. In his hand is a tattered piece of green yarn.
“My scarf?”
“Must be. You never went anywhere without it.”
“So I’ve been here?”
“At least for this part of the path.” He gives me a shy smile and takes my hand. “I’m feeling a bit stronger. How about I give you a rest and use my own two feet?”
As we march onward, following the crew in front of us, I finger the piece of yarn Micah found. This is how it should have been the first time, walking hand in hand with Micah toward the Hidden City. The journey toward our new lives. But it was vastly different then.
Up ahead, Jaxon and Jessica’s conversation is animated. I can’t quite make out the words. Nonetheless, I know what’s being said. Now is as good a time as any to get things out in the open, so I turn to Micah.
“I’m really sorry about what happened back th—”
Suddenly, his finger is against my lips. “Don’t. I won’t have you apologize for something I caused. I sent Jaxon on that crazy errand, so it’s my fault. I put you in that situation. I know Jaxon. He was just protecting you.”
“I know, but—”
“Look, I’m not going to have you spending your time feeling guilty over something that’s my fault.” He pulls me to the side as a few more members of our entourage move past. “Let me do one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Erase the feel of his lips from yours.” Instantly, his mouth is on mine, and his hands cup my cheeks. At first, he’s gentle … barely a touch. But the softness soon gives way to something more passionate.
When he pulls away, he smiles and kisses the tip of my nose. “Better?”
“Not quite. I still remember something about a closet.” I chuckle, and he quickly silences me with another fiery kiss. All the pent up emotions of the past few months flood to the surface, and we’re desperate for each other. His arm wraps around my waist. With our bodies melded together, he eases me backward until the prickly bark of a tree scratches at my back. The warm air flutters against my skin, and I feel his hand resting on the curve of my hip. Warmth radiates from his pulsing chest.
What I wouldn’t give to stay in this moment forever. Breaking away again, he says, “Now, what were you saying?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Mmm hmm. That’s what I thought.” He looks around. “We better catch up to the rest of the team before they leave us behind.”
When we reach the group again, Jaxon is trailing behind, waiting for us. “I see you two made up.” He winks.
“No thanks to you,” Micah says.
“Yeah, sorry about that, dude. I was just—”
“I know what you were doing. Don’t worry; we’ll square up later.” Micah smiles, but there’s a hint of something in his voice that wipes the grin off Jaxon’s face.
“Not another game of chicken,” Jaxon says with a sigh.
I’m confused. “Chicken?”
Micah slides his hand around my waist. “Jaxon and I have an ongoing game of chicken. I get to punch him in the face. If he’s chicken, he’ll block. If not, he’ll take it.”
My jaw drops open in awe. “Are you two serious? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes,” Micah says, “but it helps to clear up any … differences we may have.”
Jaxon snickers. “Don’t you wish women were more like men? Give a good punch to the face and get it over with. No more catty fighting, manipulating or rumors, just a punch to the face and it’s over.”
“That’s how you’d rather have it?” I ask.
The question hangs in the air between us for barely a second before they answer in unison. “Absolutely.”
“Hold that thought.” I raise my finger to them and run ahead where Jessica has taken the lead.
When she sees me, her forehead creases into a dark, foreboding crevice. “I’m not into being all buddy-buddy with you right now, and if you’ve come to make excuses, save your breath. I’m not in the mood for any lame explanations. Nothing you say will erase seeing you and Jaxon together.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She sighs and her posture slumps into a pose of defeat. “Look, I know it wasn’t your fault. Hiding. Escape. Protection. I get it. But I really don’t want to think about it right now.”
“I hear you. But I think I might have something that will at least make you feel better for the moment.”
She stops and stares at me as if deciding whether or not I’m worthy of her time. “All right. Out with it.”
I tell her my idea as the crew treks past, and we wait for the gentle-men to move closer.
****
Minutes later, Jaxon and Micah follow the stragglers of our group and spot Jessica and me standing next to each other, arms crossed like prison guards.
“I hope this won’t take long,” Jaxon says. “We don’t know where Saul’s men are, and there isn’t much time for delay.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll only take a minute.” I grin at him.
Micah frowns. “Okay, what’s going on? With the two of you getting along, it can’t be good.”
“I was just telling Jess about Jaxon’s preferences.”
“Preferences?”
“Yeah, you know. How he wishes we girls settled our differences with fists instead of … what was it … manipulation and rumors?”
Jaxon’s shoulders slump as he realizes what he may have done.
“So, I thought Jess might want to play your version of chicken. Get it all out. The anger and all.”
A brilliant smirk creeps onto Jaxon’s lips. “You’re gonna let Jessica punch you in the face?”
“No. You are.”
His eyes grow wide, and he holds his hands out in front of his chest, waving them.
“Oh no. No way!”
Meanwhile, Micah laughs and slaps him on the back. “You totally asked for this, man.”
“What?” He turns toward Micah and cocks his head to the side. His right eye crinkles as he pleads with his friend. “Come on. Surely you don’t agree with this? Do you?”
Micah holds up his arms. “Hey, don’t blame me. I would’ve told you to kiss and make up. It’s much more fun than being punched in the face.”
Jessica stands by my side with a sly grin, clenching and unclenching her fists. “This is going to feel so good.”
“Okay, wait,” Jaxon says. “If I let you punch me, then that’s the end of it. No more being angry and ignoring me. That’ll be it. The end. Finis.”
“Yep.” Jessica shakes her arms and bounces lightly on her toes like a prize fighter.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.” Running a hand through his hair, Jaxon takes a deep breath and spreads his feet for leverage. He closes his eyes and scrunches his nose, anticipating the blow.
I look at Jessica. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Oh, yeah!” She nods, pausing for one second before she hauls off and clobbers Jaxon with a right hook
.
His hands fly up to his nose, and he’s doubled over, letting out a stream of obscenities that would make anyone blush. Jessica gasps. “Oh … oh, Jaxon, I’m so sorry.” She rushes to him and lifts his head to reveal a gush of blood now pouring onto his shirt.
He wipes his face with his sleeve. “Dang, girl! You have a heck of a punch.”
“Oh!” She rips a piece of fabric from the edge of her shirt and dabs his nose with it before she brushes a finger over the red mark that’s already starting to swell. “I’m so sor—”
Jaxon interrupts her with a kiss. “Shut up, woman.” Meanwhile, Micah winks at me. “Nicely played.”
“Thank you.”
And we walk away leaving Jaxon and Jessica to settle their differences in a more civilized manner.
TWENTY THREE
HOMECOMING
(KATE)
We trudge through the hills for what seems like forever before the group slows and congregates up ahead.
“We’re here,” someone calls.
To me, it looks like all the same thing we’ve seen for hours: low branching trees, pine needles, and leaves covering the forest floor with a few boulders jutting out of the rocky trail. But the closer I look, the more significant it seems. And the rock set into the hillside up ahead jogs a memory or two.
No one moves until Micah and I make it to the front of the group. Hunter is there, and the other men gather around to hear what he has to say.
“Thought you might like to do the honors. Since this whole adventure was because of you.”
Micah takes my hand and pulls me toward the rock. Then he reaches into the needles piled along its base. When he finds what he’s looking for, he pulls, and the front of the rock retreats into the hill. When it stops, the tunnel lays before us, waiting to bring us home.
And just like that, we’re underground again. Like some crazy déjà vu. My life is moving in circles. Except this time, I’m no longer returning to an empty town of strangers with no one by my side. This time, Micah’s hand is in mine, and Brody is waiting on the other side.
