by E. R. Arroyo
“Nope. Just groans when we put a little hurt on him. He’s tough,” Flex says. “I thought you could try to talk to him.”
Suddenly all eyes are on me. “Me? Why?”
“Let’s just say you speak the same language.” Flex’s arms are crossed and he chews on his bottom lip. He doesn’t seem entirely sure how to interrogate someone. Gavin seems to have a better idea—after all it’s his knuckles wet with the spy’s blood.
“I’m not going to torture him.” I couldn’t even begin to entertain the idea of doing so.
“We got that part covered,” Flex says. “Just talk to him.”
I crack my neck while I try to pump myself up. Doing my best to keep my face expressionless, I begin moving toward the spy. I have no idea what I’m going to say and I grow more nervous the closer I get to him.
When I’m only a few paces away, Gavin punches him right in the jaw. The spy’s head reels toward me and it’s then that I recognize him. He’s just a boy. A boy I trained with for Antius’s Guard. I hesitate but he recognizes me too.
His eyes seem to light up but the smile never touches his bloody lips. The bottom one has split open. A fresh cut on his brow oozes blood into his left eye. Bruising and swelling has started to set in on both cheeks.
“What are you doing here, Jayce? Why are you in The City?”
Jayce spits blood onto the floor by my feet. Gavin strikes him again. “Answer her.”
I grab Gavin’s arm. I already don’t want to be a part of this. Gavin’s not helping. I nod toward the others, and thankfully Gavin takes the hint and leaves me with Jayce.
I look down at him. He’s tied to a chair, blood dripping onto his black, long-sleeved shirt. He shifts his weight in the chair. “Someone will be happy to know you’re here.”
“Oh yeah, who’s that?” I grab the chair across the room and drag it over, letting the metal legs screech along the concrete floor. I take a seat directly in front of him. He doesn’t answer. I clear my throat. “Why did you come here, Jayce? What are you after?”
He tightens his lips, defiant and unwilling to cooperate. Not that I expected any different.
“Were you here to look for someone?”
He doesn’t react. If anything, he looks almost amused. So it’s not that.
“Looking to kidnap some more little kids? Is Antius running out of innocent victims?”
No reaction. He’s done some growing up since we finished military training.
“Something at Burke Enterprises you need to get ahold of?”
His eyes twitch. Just a little.
“What is it you’re looking for?” I scoot closer. Lay my hand on his knee in a friendly, we-used-to-be-comrades kind of way.
Nothing. No reaction.
“Is there anything you do want to say?”
He grins. “You’re not scary. The other guy was much better at this.”
“I can get him back over here if you want.” I nod to Gavin and he heads our way.
“I’m not going to talk. You already know that.”
I smile. “I’ll see you later, kid.” I pat him on the shoulder on my way past him.
I brush past Tyce and Flex letting them follow me outside.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” Flex asks, disappointed.
“That’s all I needed. I have an idea.”
Tyce fiddles with his blade handle. “Which is?”
“Do you think it’s possible to restore power to the Burke building?”
“Maybe part of it. Why?” Tyce says.
My face lights up with a proud smile. “Because Dylan is a genius.”
Tyce scoffs, “Well that’s fantastic, princess, but what’s it got to do with our hostage?” The disdain is beyond apparent. This isn’t going to be easy.
“Our hostage was after something in that building. I bet Dylan can find out what.”
Tyce rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing in there.”
“Except computers … which Dylan happens to know a lot about.”
Tyce grumbles under his breath, taking a few steps away from us, the strain apparent in the muscles on his neck. “We don’t have time to be wasting. For all we know they’re plannin’ another attack.”
“That’s why we have lookouts, brother,” Flex offers.
“Look, you guys can do whatever you want in there. But I’m telling you—that kid’s not going to talk.” I put my hand on Tyce’s arm and he pulls away subtly enough for Flex not to notice, but I definitely do. “It’s worth a shot. If we can find out what they’re after, maybe we can use it as leverage.” Tyce looks me in the eye, his intensity making me nervous. “We can use it to get Emma back.”
Flex steps closer. “Get her back?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tyce begins to walk away.
“It’s not a bad plan, brother,” Flex calls out.
Tyce glances over his shoulder with a deadly serious expression. He meets my gaze. I jog to catch up to him then walk alongside him for a few strides before I speak.
“Tyce, we can do this. We can get her back.”
“She might not even be alive. We’d be putting everyone at risk for no reason.” His eyes become red-rimmed, lips tight. Every muscle in his body goes tense as he attempts to keep his emotions at bay.
“We both know you could never live with yourself if we didn’t go after her. All I’m asking for is a little faith. Let us try. If Dylan doesn’t turn up anything, we’ll figure something else out. We still have a hostage.”
His eyes bore holes in the cement as he inhales quick, angry breaths. His jaw clenches and unclenches a few times. “There’s nothing we can—” He stops himself. “Do you even have a plan? You can’t just say get her back and pretend it’s a simple thing to do.”
I frown. “It’s not simple, no. But we can try. I’ve done it before…”
“Yeah and how’d that work out for ya, doll face?” I don’t think he meant it to come off with so much venom, but it stings. Blushing hard, I stuff my hands in my pockets peering at the dirt on my boots.
“If you’re referring to my father—”
“Doll…” He touches my elbow. “That was a muck thing to say, I’m sorry.”
I nod without looking up. He pulls his hand away, takes a few steps back. When I finally glance at him, he rakes his hands through his dark hair.
“Do you want her back or don’t you?” I ask, clenching my jaw.
His troubled eyes meet my gaze. “Of course I do. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
* * *
Back at my apartment, I pad softly up the stairs. I take a deep breath before opening the door. After a quick glance around, my heart sinks—Dylan isn’t here. I throw my head back, my disappointment smacking me in the gut. I kick the door closed then sulk to the chair and sink into it.
He said he would stay. But he thinks I chose Tyce over him. They needed me—what was I supposed to do? Tell them no because I needed to patch things up with my boyfriend first?
Head in my hands, I go over what happened on the sidewalk with Dylan. Hadn’t we gotten everything straight? Didn’t I say the right thing? Do the right thing? I love Dylan. He’s my best friend. Time away hasn’t changed that. My new life in the Pitt hasn’t. Neither has Tyce.
As if it’s calling to me, I spot my bag from Mercy in the corner. Slower than I mean to, I drag myself over and pick it up then slide onto the bed with it. At first I only wrap my arms around it, pressing my cheek to the cool canvas.
I reach in, feel around for the plastic bag. Pulling it out I discard the backpack onto the floor. I hold the stack of photos in my hands gingerly as if I were holding ancient relics—things both sacred and extremely fragile.
I remove the plastic sack and set the pictures on the mattress before me. I grab the photo on top—another one of my mother. I pull the one I’d hidden under the mattress out and look at them side by side. In the new picture she’s younger, possibly even my age
. In front of a glorious waterfall with the hint of a rainbow in the mist, she looks stunning. Her hair’s pulled back with a long braid hanging over her shoulder.
The waterfall, the greenery nearby, the rainbow—all of it so different from anything I’ve seen. Greenery today doesn’t compare to the color in the photo. Our leaves and grass are far duller.
I set the photo face down on the bed and notice handwriting on the back. “Deer Leap Falls. First date.”
In the next picture I can’t tell where she is but all I can see behind her is blue sky and a few wispy white clouds. It’s wondrous to me. All I’ve known are gray-clouded skies my entire life. Her face is lit up with joy, her left hand proudly boasting a ring with a colorless stone. She looks so happy. The inscription on the back reads, “Ferris wheel. The day I proposed.”
After a few more of my mother alone, there’s finally one of my mother and father standing together in front of an arch decorated with white flowers. Her dress is white and he wears a black suit. They look young and indescribably happy. I flip the picture over to find in pencil, “On our wedding day. The happiest day of my life.”
I continue through the pictures, watching the two of them grow together, though most of the photos don’t include Dad—I presume because he was the one taking them. Their first apartment, their first house, a new car, a dog. A life. A great one.
Somewhere towards the end of the stack the pictures are no longer photographs, but drawings. Just like the ones on my dad’s desk at Burke. My mother with her hands laid affectionately on her belly. Another with the belly getting bigger, more pregnant. Her with an infant in her arms—with me in her arms. Then pictures of me as a baby. Close-up sketches of my face, my hands, my feet. A sketch of his own hand next to my tiny one.
When the stack runs out I hold the pictures to my chest, closing my eyes. All along, I’ve thought the pictures would make me sad—to see the life I’ve missed out on all these years, the parents I missed out on. But I don’t feel sadness, I feel peace. Even if only a little.
I’m so glad my father had these, even if he never knew I would find them. I’m thankful to have gotten to know some of my parents’ story.
A light tap gets my attention. Dylan stands against the doorway, ankles crossed, his knuckles dangling in the air next to the wall where he just rapped. He looks like he’s been there for at least a few minutes. I didn’t even hear him come up the stairs.
I smile at the sight of him. “Pictures of my family,” I explain as I gather the stack again and return it to the plastic bag. “I thought you’d left.”
“I went for a walk. I said I’d stay.”
I stuff the photos back in the backpack then look up at him. “Dylan, you can’t be roaming around The City. You’ll get yourself killed.”
Hands in his pockets he peers at me.
“Want to sit down? We should talk.”
He looks down at the bed, the empty space beside me, then his eyes drift to the chair. He opts to sit there. I don’t bother to mention Tyce gave me that chair.
“Um … are we still okay?” I ask. He’s on edge and it’s weird.
“We are. Those sheets and I, however, are not on good terms until they have a bath.” Whether the remark is a stab at me or at Tyce, I’m not sure, but it’s fair.
I tell Dylan everything. About the spies, about my dad and the Burkes. It takes a while for me to fumble my way around the important information and skip the less relevant.
“So he thinks they can turn on the power?”
“Maybe partially. They have generators. What do you think?”
“I think I’d love to take a crack at the Burkes’ computers. Who knows what kind of information is on them. Maybe I can find files on their vaccines and other pharmaceuticals.” His eyes widen. “Perhaps they have files on your case. Some insight…”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I smile as I walk to him and take his hand.
* * *
“Come on…” Tyce groans as he watches Dylan rig the wiring to the generator. He’s making the connection to the computer bank in one of the laboratories. An array of flat monitors of varying sizes are spread across the wall in front of a desk. The only thing on the desk is a square pad about four inches long and wide, right in the center.
He has also brought in my father’s and Cornelius’s computers. Tyce kicks the cabinet he’s sitting on then hops off to pace the floor.
Dylan looks up at me struggling to restrain the impatience growing in his eyes.
“Tyce, he needs to concentrate. Can you make a little less noise?”
“Of course, doll face,” he replies before rolling his eyes and plopping down again.
My eyes immediately dart to Dylan as the muscles in his back tense and the veins bulge on the side of his neck. Moments later electricity whirs as it begins to flow through the wall of machines. He’s even managed to get a big lamp in on the deal so we turn off our flashlights.
I clap him on the back, excited for the progress, but I know that was probably the easy part. Not that I know anything about computers—I can’t begin to imagine how difficult hacking into them is going to be. Especially not considering how many years it’s been since they were used. They might not even work.
But we’ve got power now, so that’s a start.
Dylan gets to work immediately, almost not even noticing me anymore. He becomes lost in the task. After only a few short minutes a screen lights up the color blue and a beep comes from a machine with a green flashing light. Soon, the blue screen fades and the computer comes to life. It’s all gibberish to me but Dylan isn’t quite as lost. It takes him a few minutes to get used to, but before long, he navigates the thing with ease.
“Have you found anything interesting?” I put my palms on his tense shoulders, standing behind his chair.
“Interesting, yes. Helpful, no.”
Tyce groans, and we both look over our shoulders at him. Then Dylan looks at me, clearly annoyed.
I move toward Tyce. “How about we give him some space? Come back in a couple hours?”
Tyce tenses up, glancing back and forth between Dylan and me. I know how important this place is to Tyce and why he’s hesitating.
“C’mon,” I say, knowing too much longer with these two in a tight space won’t be good for any of us.
Tyce steps into the hall but turns on me as soon as I’m out. “We don’t just leave strangers hanging ‘round in our city without us watching.”
“Okay, fine.” I cross my arms. “You watch him and I’ll go by myself.”
He crosses his arms, mimicking my posture. “You know good and well I’m not sendin’ you off on your own.”
“He’ll be fine. Let’s get some air,” I say softly.
He furrows his brow but nods, reluctant.
I smile to reassure him. I slip back into the lab and touch Dylan on the shoulder. “We’ll be back.”
Dylan smiles, nodding. “Thanks,” he breathes. I head for the door but he catches my wrist and pulls me in for a kiss. “See you soon.”
“See you.”
After Tyce locks the building up with Dylan inside we head to check on Jayce, see if they’ve made any more progress with him. Flex greets us at the entrance.
“He’s in pretty rough shape.”
“What did you do to him?” I put my hands on my hips, well aware of how barbaric these boys can be.
“Whatever’s happening with this guy ain’t from what we did.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder and I head inside to see.
Jayce is curled up in a ball shivering, chained to a pipe by the wall. A memory of Dylan in the woods after we escaped Antius flashes in my mind. I bend down to feel Jayce’s forehead, which is burning hot. He jerks his head away having only enough energy for a hint of a scowl.
The boys follow me back outside, out of earshot. “He’s going through withdrawal. This happened to Dylan when we escaped and all the women we rescued from Antius too. He’s coming off the meds. He need
s water and probably some food.”
“We ain’t looking to make him comfy.” Flex crosses his arms and I can tell he thinks I’m getting soft.
“He’s vulnerable and needs help. We can take advantage of it.”
“How do we do that?”
“Eli.” I grin. “He’s as non-threatening as they come.”
Tyce laughs. “I’m sure he’d be glad to hear you think so.” I punch him on the shoulder, smiling.
Tyce runs off to get Eli while I round up water, meat, and a small piece of bread for Jayce. Flex seems to approve of the plan but stays put with two of his boys to keep an eye on things. He seems to think someone’s going to attempt to rescue the prisoner.
When Eli shows up, I do my best to prep him for interacting with Jayce. Tyce and Flex warn him about safety measures. Both of them insist Eli go in without a weapon that could be used against him, especially since he’s still injured. And I insist Eli goes in alone. The rest of us wait outside, peering in through cracks as Eli steps into the room.
Jayce has been alone for the last hour, though someone’s had an eye on him at all times. He has tugged on his chains a few times but hasn’t made any valid attempts at breaking free. Not that he could if he wanted to.
Eli hobbles over, leaning on a walking stick Gavin made for him. His other hand supports a tray. He sets it on the ground between himself and Jayce.
“Name’s Eli,” he says softly. I had encouraged him to sound young, to speak tenderly. He’s doing great. “You got a fever, they tell me. This water and food’ll probably do you some good.”
Jayce keeps his eyes on Eli but doesn’t object or protest, which I take to be a good sign. As we instructed, Eli gives him a sip of water and Jayce swallows it.
Good, he’s cooperating.
Over the next few minutes, Eli continues to slowly give Jayce water, neither of them speaking.
“Think you can stomach some food?” Eli asks.
It takes a minute, but Jayce nods. Eli feeds him a little meat and bread. Before he leaves, he wets a cloth and wipes down Jayce’s sweaty face. Then, without another word, he exits the room.
