by E. R. Arroyo
The snake makes a move toward me and no sooner than I’m sure I’m a goner, Max snatches the creature by its throat. In a swift motion, he slams it against a tree and cuts off its head.
Panting and staring at him in shock and residual terror, I don’t move an inch.
He inspects the reptile’s body, flipping it over in his hands. “Too skinny to eat. Practically starving.”
“I thought the animals all lived in The City,” I say, eyeing the creature.
“Most of them do.” He ponders, wrinkling his forehead and pursing his lips, but he dismisses it and we move on.
After the close call with the snake, we only go on for another thirty minutes before the woods dissipate and the land is more developed with housing and other structures. We keep to the middle of streets, straying from dark corners, and Max seems to know exactly where he’s going.
Come dusk, we’ve been through several communities, most of which are run-down and several of which are complete ruins—nothing but rubble. In one fallen town I hear animal noises coming from a vent that leads underground. It makes me nervous to think of the animals we could encounter in The City where Tyce lives. A memory of the birds that chased us makes me cringe.
Max stops with a hand on his hip, scratching his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, glancing around at our surroundings. Row houses line both sides of the street, breaking up into alleys every so often. The different colored front walls are all faded, but the homes are still standing, aged but not destroyed. Overgrown trees jut out of the sidewalks, vines and weeds sprout through cracks in the pavement.
“I don’t think we should head in until tomorrow. It’s too dangerous.”
I shift my weight on my crutches. “Maybe we can pick up the pace.” I squeeze the cushioned handles wondering how much more my underarms can take of these wooden things digging into me.
“It’s fine. Let’s wait. We’ll just have to hustle to get back by our deadline.”
“What happens if we don’t?” This isn’t even a mission. What do they care how long it takes?
“Then I resign my command.”
“Why would you risk that for me?” I watch his expression and it doesn’t change.
His chest goes up and down with his breaths five times before he starts looking around. “Wait here, I’ll find a safe place to sleep.”
Ten minutes later, he comes back, waving me toward an alley. I follow reluctantly, and when I see the dumpster my heart sinks. “In there?”
“It’s the safest bet.”
My heart rate kicks up when I step toward it, thinking back to the night my father was attacked while I’d been hiding in a dumpster.
“I cleared it out.” He gestures toward the pile of mostly decomposed trash on the ground.
I place my hand on the metal, grazing the lip of the opening. “Okay,” I mutter, my eyes blinking rapidly.
Max helps me inside, then passes my crutches and backpack over before climbing in. We take opposite corners and try to get comfortable, though I’m anything but.
It’s much too dark, inside the dumpster and out. Our breathing echoes through the tiny, hollow space. “Did Aaron lose someone because of me? Is that why he hates me?”
Max takes too long to answer. I start to think he’s already asleep before he says, “His brother, Charles. We passed him on the way out. A mine got him. That was his only family.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper reverently.
“It’s not your fault, Corinne.” His voice is closer but I can’t see if he moved.
“Everyone blames me. None of this would have happened if…” I shake my head, unable to finish the thought.
“Cori,” he whispers. His hand lays on my shin gently. “People are hurting. When they heal, they’ll understand why we did it. We all did this, not just you.” He pats my leg before pulling away.
* * *
I wake up to the sound of my own screaming voice echoing all around me. Something squeals and the lid on the dumpster swings open, morning light streaming in, burning my wet eyes. I thrash against the cold metal, my clothes soaked with sweat. Max stands over me and grabs my wrist. I vaguely register him saying my name.
My vision stays blurry while I try to settle myself down, but sobs continue to escape against my will. Max drops to his knees, cups my face.
“Cori, look at me. Do you hear me?”
I squeeze my eyes closed again, desperately fighting off the images that haunted my dream. Images of my father dying a hundred different deaths. Each time I tried to save him and couldn’t.
“Cori,” he says again, louder this time. “Look at me, Cori.”
Panting, I finally find Max’s dark brown eyes through the haze and take several deep breaths in a row. He remains silent while the much needed oxygen fills my lungs and calms my body. I wipe my eyes, forcing the nightmare out of my head. It’s always something. If not my father, it’s something else tragic. Sometimes I imagine the bullets actually hitting me instead of Dad, sometimes they hit Dylan. Sometimes I envision the rescue mission being a complete and total failure, all the women and children refusing to come with us. And then other times I simply see the things that did happen exactly as they occurred and that’s just as horrific.
“I’m okay,” I finally say, breaking the silence and reaching for my things. Max stands and puts his backpack on, thankfully giving me space to work through my embarrassment.
Safely on the ground outside the dumpster, I straighten my clothes and take a few steps ahead of him. “Sorry…”
“Nothing to be sorry for, kiddo—Er, sorry.”
I look over my shoulder cocking an eyebrow. “Sorry for?”
He laughs, “You don’t like being called kid.”
I settle in on my crutches. “How do you know?”
“That face you make when someone does.”
I blush and turn away.
Thankfully, Max doesn’t bring up the nightmare. And I’m glad he doesn’t ask what it was, because I can’t bear to relive it out loud.
I grip my crutches tighter as my hands begin to shake, thinking of the knife I dug into the soldier, Red, atop Antius’s guard tower, and later into Sean, my childhood nemesis. The blood on my hands. The blood on Dylan’s face. Scores of others. Every person I saw fall. Every person that fell from my knife or bullets. All of them haunting me, gnawing at my conscience. And I just want to forget, but my dreams won’t let me.
A twenty-minute walk gets us to the river that separates us from The City. As if standing on a hill, The City towers over us. Some of the buildings even higher than the tallest trees we passed to get here. Walls of glass, some of it broken, as well as walls of brick and other stones too. Nearly all of it covered in gray from years of dust and soot. In the distance I can see the white top of the dome we saw last time I was here. Farther up the river, I see the top of the yellow bridge Dylan and I crossed.
The bridges closer to us are destroyed. Only remnants remain of the beginning and end points with nothing in the middle to connect them. “How do we get across?”
“You’re not going to like it,” he says, pausing a moment before continuing.
We ease over a concrete barrier onto the dirt that leads to the river. Max takes my crutches and we ease down the bank, him staying upright and me turned backwards as if climbing down a ladder.
We reach the water with no problems and Max finds a shallow place to cross, where it only comes halfway up our calves. He stays close, I assume so he can catch me if I fall since he has my crutches.
On the other side, the embankment is a bit steeper and I realize quickly this is the part Max knew I wouldn’t like. We crawl up on all fours keeping as close as we can to the dirt. Finding places to weasel my hands and feet for grips, I move excruciatingly slow.
“Did any water get on your wounds,” he asks, looking sidelong at me. I hadn’t thought of that.
“I don’t think so.”
I take hold of a small bush
when I’m almost to the top where Max tosses my crutches over a concrete divider. He reaches for my hand and tugs me up until I grab onto the ledge for myself and climb over. I don’t love the idea of needing his help but it’s better than falling.
“Any idea where they’ll be?” I ask, taking in the overwhelming size and character of The City I didn’t think I’d ever see again. Tyce’s city.
“No, but I know how to draw them out.”
Chapter Four
Up close, more signs of The City’s age are visible. The sidewalks are overgrown in places, much like on the other side of the river. One decrepit building has a deep crack running up the front of it, the windows nearest the crack long gone. Nearly all of the windows are blacked out, like the ones I saw last time I was here. I can’t imagine how long it took the people here to paint that many windows black, all for the sake of concealing their locations.
Despite its flaws, this place still seems grandiose to me.
I follow Max into an alley where he stops at a door with faded wording that reads, “Employees Only.” He scans the area, then goes inside. With sudden urgency, he rushes up the stairs and busts through a door on the third floor. I struggle to keep up, but once I reach the entrance I step into an open space covered with desk after desk, all in rows. Electronic equipment litters the surfaces and larger machines stand along the wall. The entire outer wall is lined with windows. Two of which are broken.
I stand aside, extremely curious, as Max comes to one of the broken windows and peers outside onto a street full of rusty cars that now house brush and who knows what else. Directly across are more buildings. He pulls his gun and fires a shot into a broken window and the pop is followed by a loud gong noise from whatever his bullet struck.
Without a word, he heads back for the stairwell and we climb the rest of the way to the roof of the building where we wait. Checking each direction several times, I finally see a group coming our way. I guess Max knows what he’s doing after all.
The possibility of seeing Tyce again—and finally not having to worry about him anymore—fills me with nervous anticipation. I will rest easier once I know he’s fine. If he’s not okay, he’s just one more person for me to feel guilty about. I’m not sure how much more guilt I can take.
Max waits until the people get closer to decide if they appear hostile. He determines they don’t so we head down. We arrive in the lobby at the same time as the group—eight boys ranging in age from about thirteen to nineteen. Two savages stand near the back, a good distance from us. Just as I remember them, muzzles included.
“I take it this visit got nothin’ to do with tradin’,” the one in front says. He has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, almost black, with greasy dark waves of hair to match. His face seems to naturally scowl without any effort at all.
“We’re from Mercy, someone sent for us.”
I scan the men one-by-one for Tyce, but he isn’t here. “I’m Cori,” I assert, looking directly at the black-eyed boy.
“I know who you are, soldier,” he sneers. “And you are?”
“Max. So, what has happened. We heard there was an attack but weren’t given any details. Are there wounded? Were many lost?” That’s a lot of talking coming from Max.
“No wounded,” Black Eyes grumbles. “Three dead.”
My eyes widen, “You survived an attack from Antius and only lost three men?”
A boy behind him shifts his weight, and another fidgets with his hands, all of them seeming on edge, and Black Eyes stares me down, his glare so dangerous I start ticking a checklist in my head to decide if I’m actually in any shape for a fight.
“You here to mock us, girl?” he bows up.
“We’re here to help,” Max assures him. “If we can.”
Someone near the back forces a humorless laugh and Black Eyes quiets him with a glance over his shoulder.
“I wasn’t trying to mock you. I’m just surprised…. I was hoping to speak with Tyce. Can you take us to him?” Max eyes me curiously, probably because I never explained exactly why I cared at all about The City.
Black Eyes scratches his eyebrow with his lips pursed. He’s either considering stabbing me or actually giving me information about Tyce.
“Tyce ain’t here no more. He went after the ones they took.”
My heart pinches, a tinge of regret already attempting to take hold.
“Wait. They took people?” Max interjects. “They didn’t come to attack, but to abduct?”
“Guess so. What’s it to ya?”
“How many were taken?” Max asks, confusion and concern growing in his features.
“Maybe twenty, women and children included.”
“Any ideas why?” I ask, knowing it’s a dumb question.
“Torture? We got nothing to pay ransom with.” Black Eyes stuffs his hands in his pockets, relaxing his posture a bit.
A younger boy catches my gaze, his expression pained, not angry like Black Eyes. There’s a sweetness to him, something different from the others, his black hair swept away from his round face.
“The people who went after them, none have showed back up?” I ask, shifting my attention back to Black Eyes.
“No.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I can’t help but feel responsible. And from the way Black Eyes is looking at me, he thinks I’m responsible too.
“Yeah, you can leave,” he says, directing it at me, not Max.
“You asked for help. I’m sorry it isn’t the help you wanted.” Leaning on my crutches more heavily than I’d like, I head for the door. I try not to let my anger show. These guys are dangerous—I’ve seen it first hand.
“Got any tinctures? Few of us’re sick,” a small voice calls. I glance over my shoulder to see the boy in the back leaning around his friends, his eyes innocent and pleading. He’s young—too young for this group of warriors.
“We’re low on meds ourselves,” Max sympathizes. “You should know we’re evacuating Mercy. If you need to send a messenger, send them to Delilah and they’ll pass along any information to us.”
I cock my head, wondering why he didn’t just tell them we’re going to Wisdom. I shrug and direct my attention back to Black Eyes. “If anyone returns, please let us know,” I plead.
Black Eyes leans in close. “Have a safe trip back.”
It’s exactly the opposite of a warm welcome. Max gives a simple nod and I storm for the door as quickly as I can on crutches. I wait for a brief moment on the sidewalk for Max to catch up, and someone else lays a hand on my shoulder. I startle, whipping around to find those soft brown eyes and tan skin. His young, sweet voice says, “Sorry ‘bout him. If Tyce comes back, I’ll tell him you came.”
“Thank you,” I mumble before he tugs his hand away and joins his group marching down the street.
We make our way back out of The City, retreating the way we came. Crossing the river is much easier this time around, but we don’t speak for a good long while.
“You have a theory,” Max says. It wasn’t a question.
Hiking through the woods with my dreaded crutches, I hesitate to answer. “Not really a theory.”
“You didn’t seem surprised about the kidnappings. So, what reason do you think Antius would have for kidnapping a bunch of savages?”
“Took both genders and a mixture of ages,” I exhale, growing tired as we near the cabin. Scaling all those steps with Max really wore my leg out. “Sounds like a pool of specimens, don’t you think?”
He’s quiet for a few moments, mulling it over. But he doesn’t know Antius like I do.
I explain before he comes to any conclusions. “Everything they do is motivated by power or science. If their actions don’t serve one, they serve the other.”
“Suppose you’re right, what scientific need would they have for them?”
I stop, realizing there’s only been one major change in their science departments recently. “I guess they’re looking for a replacement.”
&n
bsp; “For?”
“Me.”
* * *
On the trip to Wisdom, I try my best to shut out the emotion trying to creep up over what we found out. The guilt and the mounting worry for Tyce. I barely know him, but he struck me as a fighter, and it’s probably silly to worry about him. I just hope that before too long we’ll get word that he has returned and he’s fine.
Wisdom was a prison before the war. A tall chain-link fence runs the perimeter of the compound, topped with barbed wire. It was vacant by the time Ken and Sandra started the colony there. As the name would imply, Wisdom salvages, restores, and catalogues books. They also write school curriculums for the colonies’ children. It’s a fascinating colony. Only problem is, when we get there, Mercy hasn’t arrived.
After a brief discussion with the gate keeper, we head back to Mercy, eager to find out why they didn’t relocate as planned. It’s dawn by the time we make it back.
“What’s going on?” Max grumbles at the guards. “We went to Wisdom.”
“You’d better talk to Karen or Henry,” one of them sighs.
Karen is who we find first in the dining space sitting alone at a long table, looking pensive and exhausted. Everyone’s exhausted lately. She doesn’t notice us until Max taps on the wooden surface.
I begin to say hello when Max cuts me off. “What happened?” he asks, his brows furrowed.
“Wisdom won’t let us in until we’ve contained the infections. They gave us a little of their antibiotics, but not enough,” Karen tells us. “We’re doing our best.”
Dylan shuffles in and his breath catches when he sees me. “You’re back,” he exhales, his eyes brightening.
I stand while he rushes over to meet me. “I’m back,” I whisper as his arms envelop me. Face against his chest, I breathe in his soapy scent. His hair’s still wet—he must’ve just come from the shower. I lean into his kiss against my temple, grabbing his hand and lacing our fingers. Spat or no spat, I’ve missed him.
“I’ve been worried.” He sits on a chair and pulls me onto his lap, joining the conversation.
Max leans forward, his elbows on the table across from Karen. “Do we have an alternate plan? What are our options?”
