I gape up at her. There are tears glistening on her cheeks behind the shade of her visor, and her voice is husky. “You can keep the armor, wear it under your clothes, but don’t let other scavs see you putting it on or they’ll steal it.”
“Ryanne, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Her jaw bunches as she grinds her teeth. She stares off at the pillars of Lincoln Shelter. “It’s Jate’s idea. He thinks that now you’re well, you’re better off out here, going back to your old life.”
I’m in shock. I stare numbly down at the applesauce, turning the can over and over in my gloved hands. So that’s what he meant when he said we were parting ways. He’s trying to get rid of me. The thought sparks an ember of anger in the pit of my gut.
“You can wait in the shade over there until they open the entrance,” Ryanne continues. “Maybe a little longer so they think you’ve been out scavenging. Take off the suit before you go in and hide it someplace.”
“I thought he was using reverse psychology when he showed me and Mardy the exit,” I say with more than a little bitterness in my tone. “But he really is kicking me out.”
Ryanne squats beside me suddenly, throwing her arms around my shoulders and pulling me into a tight hug that makes my broken arm hurt. I remain stiff in her embrace. “I’m going to miss you! I really am! But this is for the best.” Her expression is pleading as she pulls away from me. “Please, Caelin, just walk away from us. Go back to your life. Protect Mardy. That’s what you do best.”
As though trying to outrun her emotions, she hops up and strides rapidly back the way we came. All I can think is that she lied to me. Jate and the rest of them were never going downtown.
My emotions whirl within me as I set the can of applesauce on the ground. My arm aches. I think the pain pills Hudson gave me must have worn off by now. I’m tired from walking so far. It’s the most exercise I’ve gotten since I arrived in Dupont Shelter.
Dupont. Mardy is still there. Ryanne expects me to just leave her behind? To hole up inside Lincoln Shelter and wait for Ryanne to somehow bring Mardy to me? Maybe they’ll lie to her as well, sneak her out in the AM and cut her adrift. What about Lucio’s grand words for taking care of everybody? Maybe Lucio asked Jate to do this. Maybe Lucio deemed us unworthy to join the ranks of his Impartialists.
All these thoughts flit through my head in rapid succession as I watch Ryanne walk away. She glances back once over her shoulder with a timid wave of her hand, then she suddenly breaks into a run and ducks into a side street.
Before I can stop myself, I leap to my feet. Leaving the applesauce, I follow her.
CHAPTER 17
Ryanne leads me on a tangled path through the streets of the city. I see that she lied about something else—she knows downtown almost as well as I do. I wonder what other lies the Impartialists have told me.
I have to adjust my tactics to account for the increased light of day as I follow her through the narrow streets. They’re crowded with rusted-out cars that have been stripped of everything useful. Abandoned buildings tower several stories above, offering shade as the sun arcs down toward the west. It will be PM soon, and then the scavs will surface. I welcome the idea of hiding in the dark. Meanwhile, I stick to the shadows as best I can. I watch Ryanne turn corners. I wait until the last possible second, then step out from the side of a building to race after her. Slowing to a stop, I peer around the corner to make sure she isn’t waiting for me before I follow her.
By the time I lose her trail, I’m exhausted.
I have just run up a hill to see an old theater across the street. I’m sure it’s deserted. The building is covered with windows, making it a horrible place to wait out the AM. I stop behind the tangle of a stripped bush and catch my breath, peering in all directions. Ryanne is nowhere, but I see someone else. The way he moves is unmistakable, like a confident cat, almost gliding across the field of dead grass to the entrance of the theater. Jate.
My heart sinks when I see him. Why did he ask Ryanne to send me away? Was he angry that I attacked Sloan?
He enters the building. I debate whether I should follow him. I’m thinking maybe I should just leave them to their little intrigues and go back to Lincoln, like Ryanne wanted, when I spot movement from the corner of my eye. I look up. I glimpse the dark figure of a guard on the terrace above. He’s pacing the length of the building, scanning the land around us. What’s a guard doing here? I’ve never heard of this building being held by a gang, and can’t imagine why they’d want it.
I’ve recovered my breath enough by now that I can slink back down the hill to the lower road. I stay within the dead trees as much as possible and make my way north in a parallel route with the building. I watch the roof carefully until I’m sure the guard is elsewhere, then I race across to the side of the building. A road leads into a lower level, but the doorway is partially collapsed.
Crawling through one of the openings proves difficult with one arm in a cast, but I manage it in spite of the pain. It’s blessedly cool and dark inside, some type of vast garage with cars still parked in stalls. Suddenly, Ryanne grabs me and pulls me around the debris of the collapsed entrance into a shadowy corner.
“You are so stubborn!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”
“You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But we’re in deep water here. I need you to stick close to me.”
“Not a problem.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you’ve proven you’re rather good at that. Okay. We have to get across the parking garage to the stairs on the south end without being seen. Jate is going to kill me.” She mumbles the last sentence under her breath, so low I almost can’t make out the words over the speaker in my ear.
We have shadows again that help us hide as we slink through the parking garage. The cars here look like they haven’t been touched since the explosion. They’d make good salvage, but I’m not here to scavenge.
My heart nearly stops when Ryanne pushes me back behind one of the cars, her gun at the ready. The slow steps of a guard ring on the concrete floor as he passes on the far side. He’s dressed like a scav and carries a shotgun that looks like it’s in better shape than most. Once he’s beyond us, we continue making our way south. Ryanne moves silently in spite of her gear.
We’re almost to the far end when I see the blocky enclosure of an elevator with a staircase near it. Jackpot. Ryanne motions for me to go up first, watching my back for the return of the guard. I creep along the wall, staying in the deeper shadows. There’s light from above, and when I get to the main floor, I see why. The sunlight of the fading AM streams in through all the windows, reflecting off cracked mirrors and gold trim. This place was pretty plush in its day. But even if there was any useful scavenge here, it’s long gone. The gold metal trim is tarnished with age, stone busts knocked off their pedestals and broken, red carpet muted under a thick layer of dust and crumbled ceiling plaster. I hesitate at the top of the stairs until Ryanne reaches me.
“Don’t be afraid of the light,” she whispers. “You just have to be more careful and use objects to hide behind instead of shadows.” I remember using the buildings as shields as I followed her through the city streets. This is much the same, just on a smaller scale.
Ryanne leads the way across the hall, headed for the cover of a gold column. When we reach the carpeted area, we stick close to the wall. We make tracks in the dust, but by sliding my feet, I’m able to hide the fact that they’re footsteps.
Keeping her weapon ready, Ryanne turns the corner, and we go up another flight of stairs. A guard walks past on the balcony above, and we wait until she passes before making a break for one of the doors. Ryanne motions for me to go down a hall. She scans the area behind us, making sure the guards don’t follow.
Halfway down the hall, she points to one of the doors, and I open it. I move slowly, the way I opened the door to my hotel room earlier, and I ca
n tell Ryanne is sweating bullets. But I’m not going to risk a guard hearing us.
I finally get it wide enough that we can both slip through. We enter a balcony overlooking a huge room. There are no windows here, but torchlight gives a dim illuminance. A quick glance tells me this is the lowest of three balconies that line the sides and back of the room. The balconies extend almost to a stage at the far end where a group of people is arguing. Some are dressed in Lucio’s yellow armor, and others wear the ratty clothing of scavs.
We crouch low between the solid rail of the balcony and the seats, scuttling toward the stage. There are slow, measured footsteps on the balcony overhead, indicating the presence of a guard. I can scarcely breathe. What will happen if the guards spot us?
As we move closer, the words of the people on stage become clearer.
“... not here for trinkets,” Jate’s voice says. The sound is tinny through the helmet’s speaker, but I can still hear the anger in it. “Your message said you found what we’re looking for. Where is it?”
Another voice replies. It’s more muffled, coming from outside the confines of my helmet instead of the speaker in my ear. There’s a nasal whine to it, though the tone exudes confidence. “Now, Jate. I didn’t say I had the item. I said I knew where it could be found.”
We stop at the end of the balcony, and Ryanne cautiously peeks her head over the top, pulling back down swiftly with a muttered curse. “Two guards,” she mouths. I nod.
“That’s not the impression I got from your message.” Jate’s voice is very low. He speaks clearly, annunciating each word carefully. It’s a dangerous voice, one I’ve never heard him use.
The other person recognizes the danger as well. His voice quivers when he speaks again. “I can get it for you. It’s just a bit difficult, you see, because it’s guarded. It will take extra effort on my part—more manpower, more resources. That’s why I don’t have any choice but to double the price.”
Ryanne takes in a sharp breath, her face twisting into anger behind the helmet shield.
I move to the balcony railing and mimic the way Ryanne looked over it, with her head sideways. The room is lit by torches jammed into cracks in the walls. I can see the shadows of guards pacing on the balconies above, two of them on either side of the room. On the stage, three people in yellow armor stand facing a man dressed in layered rags. He looks like a scav except he’s fat, almost as heavy as Hudson. Only gang leaders get enough to eat that their bones don’t poke out.
On a broken table nearby, there’s a cloth unrolled with the metal barrels of several guns glinting darkly. An arms dealer, then. I’ve heard about them, but was never fortunate enough to scavenge a weapon I could trade.
“I’m not here to negotiate new terms,” Jate says. He paces around the arms dealer. I notice he’s not holding his weapon, and the holster is empty. They probably didn’t allow weapons for this meeting, but Jate is covering his bases with Ryanne and probably other team members hiding around the room.
Jate’s confidence isn’t shaken by his lack of a firearm. “And I’m not sure I believe your story.” He stops right in front of the other man, moving in close so they’re almost nose to nose. “You shouldn’t lie to me, Gage. Where is it?”
Ryanne grabs the shoulder of my jacket on the good side, yanking me back down. She motions for me to stay low, then slides the barrel of her gun slowly and carefully over the railing. I cringe back behind one of the seats, anticipating the loud retort of gunfire.
Gage laughs nervously below. “I’m not lying to you, Jate. That’s beyond foolish.”
“Yes, it is.”
There’s a bump and a scuffle in the balcony overhead. Swiftly, Ryanne stands up, pointing her gun right at the stage, probably at Gage’s head.
“Drop it!” she commands.
There’s a tense pause. I imagine that the other two members of the team must be on the balconies above, taking out the guards there.
“We’ve got you surrounded,” Jate snaps. “So tell me where the item is, and we’ll let you and your cronies leave in peace.”
Gage starts to laugh. It’s a high-pitched, wheezing sound. “None of us will get out of here alive, Jate. That’s the price of betrayal.” His laugh is suddenly choked off.
“Where is it?” I hear Sloan growl.
The balcony door behind us bangs open, and guards rush through. But these are not the guards we saw earlier patrolling the building—at least, they’re not dressed as scavs anymore. They wear the mottled green uniforms of Coalition soldiers. Like the Impartialists, their uniforms are made of layers of cloth and hard plates. Underneath, they must wear the tan radiation suits Jate gave to me before. Their faces are covered by the flexible clear hood, but they have a half-round helmet strapped on their heads. There are three of them. They swarm Ryanne, yanking her weapon away and pulling her arms behind her back.
I shrink more into the shadows, wondering what to do. Like any scav, I have a healthy fear of Coalition Soldiers. They’re not like the sentries posted at every Coalition-held shelter—they’ll take whatever measures are necessary to keep scavs from getting into the only entrance to the Undercity left in D.C. I’ve never tried to get in myself, but I’ve heard horror stories.
I hear scuffles and shouts coming from the stage below. There must be more soldiers there. Did Gage call them? He said something about betrayal, so it seems likely he was in league with them all along.
The soldiers are dragging Ryanne away. She’s fighting, but it’s no use. They haven’t seen me. Should I just let them take her? What are they going to do with her? I remember Ryanne saying the Coalition wanted to kill the Impartialists. Is Ryanne about to die?
The thought makes my mouth go dry. I don’t want her to die. She’s been my friend, even when she was trying to convince me to go back to Lincoln Shelter. I’ve never had a friend before, other than Mardy. It was always just the two of us, but suddenly I realize I want to be part of something bigger.
With a surge of adrenaline, I leap from my hiding place. Just as a soldier turns around to confront me, I grab her gun arm with my right hand and smash my cast into her face. There’s a crunch, and the woman cries out. She drops Ryanne’s gun.
I’m doubled over with the agony of impact on my broken arm, but I can’t ignore the weapon as it falls to my feet. I grab it and force myself to stand, pointing the gun at the soldier holding Ryanne.
“Let her go,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
There’s a high-pitched whine that hurts my ears, and bits of wood fly from the balcony floor above my head. I duck instinctively, then swing Ryanne’s gun around. My fingers find what must be the trigger, and I press. There’s no sound, but I’m knocked backward into Ryanne and the soldier there. The railing of the balcony across the way splinters into fragments. Not even close to where I aimed.
The room erupts into chaos. There are shouts, fighting, the high-pitched whine of Coalition sonics. Ryanne manages to get free of her captor and quickly knocks him out. The other soldier is still lying on the ground, face mask splattered with blood.
“Come on!” Ryanne shouts, grabbing my arm and yanking me out the door. We race back down the hallway outside, no longer worried about disturbing dust. Soldiers appear suddenly from the floor below, and Ryanne turns swiftly to the side, racing up another set of stairs.
Above, I toss her the gun, and she catches it neatly. She fires behind us with the silent gun. The kickback doesn’t seem to bother her. We race across another hall to an elevator. The doors are broken, one side leaning crookedly and making a gap. Ryanne wedges her fingers into it and grunts as she tries to open it. I help her with my good hand, and we’re left staring down into the darkness of an elevator shaft with ropes dangling in the center.
“Hold this.” Ryanne shoves her gun into my hands. She starts to pull something from a pocket of her uniform.
The soldiers following us are coming up the steps. I aim the gun, cringing even as I press the trigger. I’m thrown back in
to the wall, but the soldiers obligingly retreat.
“Come on!” Ryanne grips a device connecting her to the cables in the center of the elevator shaft. Her toes grip the edge of the floor. She motions to me with one hand.
“What?” I stare at the drop beyond her into blackness.
“Hold on to me,” she says impatiently. “Come on—there’s no time!”
Trying to breathe around the fear in my middle, I step toward her and throw my good arm around her shoulders. She grips my waist and leaps off the floor. We hover for just a moment, and it feels as though my heart has stopped. Then we’re falling. My stomach drops into my toes.
The friction of the device on the cable makes the air hum, and we’re not falling as fast as I imagine we would without that device. But it’s fast enough. The top of the elevator below rushes up to meet us.
“Bend your knees!” Ryanne commands.
I do, but it’s still a shock when our feet hit the elevator roof. I crumple like a child’s rag doll. Ryanne unhooks the device and throws open a hatch in the elevator, sliding down into it. She reaches up to catch me as I push my feet over the edge to follow her. Then we’re back out in the hall with the smooth floors and glass windows.
It’s dark outside, PM at last. This time, we don’t bother with stealth. We race for the front doors and bang through them out onto the plaza. Other figures in yellow join us as we run across the road and down the hill. I make a quick count, and I’m relieved that all six of us made it out. Sloan carries one of the Coalition rifles, but Ryanne is the only other member of our group with a weapon.
I risk a glance back over my shoulder and nearly stumble. At least a dozen Coalition soldiers follow us. One aims, shooting his gun at us, and my insides thrum. Ryanne grabs my arm to steady me, pushing me on.
“This way!” Jate shouts, veering to the left.
The rest of us follow. Jate leads us up the steps of a tall building. “Ryanne!” he yells.
She seems to understand what he wants. She drops behind, turning to face the soldiers following us. She aims and fires. One soldier drops.
Rebel Bound Page 12
