I hated myself for it.
For five days I had been hurting innocent children and even if it was to protect them, it made me sick. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten, and my body was starting to show the signs of fatigue. During the last fight yesterday, I actually blacked out for a few seconds. Ryker’s keen eyes watched me carefully, analyzing my every move. I was beginning to crack and he knew it. Gage stayed within sight of the ring at all times, his gun always ready, but he kept his distance as long as I continued to fight.
I pulled myself into a ball and stared at the red light on the camera above me. They would come for me soon and we would start this perverse torture all over again. I squeezed my eyes shut but not before a single tear escaped. Hope was nearly gone. It felt like my soul was dying. If I didn’t escape soon, I would lose my mind. The dreams were also starting to happen when I wasn’t asleep.
My mind was still churning when I heard the familiar sounds of footsteps outside the door. There was something different this time though. Unless my ears were deceiving me—which it was possible they were right now—there were fewer guards this time. Forcing myself into a seated position, I twisted toward the door, giving myself the best vantage point of the hallway when it opened. The seconds seemed to stretch as I stared at the steel door waiting for it to move. Eventually, I could hear the back of a hand brush the metal surface as it reached for the handle. I trained my eyes on the hallway behind the figure, my mind calculating as Major Ryker James walked into my cell.
“Having sweet dreams, Princess?” Ryker asked in a mocking tone.
I held my tongue. There were only two guards with him in the hall. It seems the arrogant prick was finally underestimating me.
Idiot.
“Oh, don’t pout. We have another thrilling day planned for you, your highness. Besides it makes that pretty face of yours so unbecoming.” He leaned over me smirking. I stared pointedly at his left ear, refusing to meet his eyes. My heart skipped a beat as something over his shoulder caught my eye. I smoothed my face to hide my excitement. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
He thoughtlessly leaned closer as my heart rate began to spike. I hoped he couldn’t hear it in the small room. I stared harder at his ear to mask what I was truly watching. The light on the camera just above his head had lost power twice now, the tiny red light flickering out and then back on. Whatever the cause of the power failure, it seemed the odds might be in my favor for the first time since I had set foot in this city. If the power to the cameras went off now, when there only happened to be two other guards watching me, I actually stood a chance of making an escape.
Ryker was speaking to me again, but I wasn’t listening. I was recounting the steps to the elevator in my mind. Then I calculated the amount of time spent in the elevator to reach a floor above ground. Thirty seconds maybe, so at least three floors above where I was now. I could make up the rest as I went. Maybe even escape into the elevator shaft itself. I would be harder to track there. The light pulsed again, staying off for nearly five seconds this time.
This was it.
I turned my face to his, meeting his glassy stare with my own. A manic grin erupted on my lips and widened when he flinched in response. Sensing his blunder, he quickly leaned closer in an attempt to intimidate me and cover his own fear.
“Something funny, Princess?” His dark eyebrows furrowed as he studied my face.
Eight seconds this time. The power failures were increasing in duration, each time lengthened by three seconds. Next would be for eleven. That was all I needed.
He leaned in so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. I held his gaze, but I was really watching the red light. His voice dropped so I could barely hear it. “Whatever you are thinking about, you had better wipe that smile off your face or Fandrin will do it for you. You are going to keep your mouth shut and do exactly as I say or else—”
I never got to hear the rest of his threat. The light flickered off as he spoke and I launched myself into action. I slammed my face forward, cracking the top of my skull into his perfect nose. There was a satisfying crunch as blood began to pour down Ryker’s face, marring his perfectly white uniform. He staggered backward, arms flailing wildly for me, but I was ready for him. Kicking out, I caught him square in the chest sending him reeling backward into the silver toilet.
Eight seconds left.
Ignoring the pain in my ribs, I twisted to the door just as the first guard exploded through it, gun half raised and confusion on her face. Leaping into the air, I landed a foot on the doorknob while catching the baffled guard in the jaw with the other. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she slumped to the side clearing my path.
Four seconds.
After tipping forward to let my fingertips reach the doorframe, I then swung myself out into the hallway colliding with the second guard. We crashed to the ground with me astride his chest, the fingers of one of my hands already winding themselves in his hair as the other hand pulled back, poised to punch him in the face. Before I could strike, his gun went off and searing pain ripped across my left temple. Despite the warm blood I could feel dripping down my face, I knew it was merely superficial. I locked my jaw and punched him twice before his body went slack.
Time’s up.
Precisely as the thought crossed my mind, a screaming alarm erupted through the barren halls. I reached for the guard’s gun but snatched my hand back as the wall in front of me exploded into bits. Rolling sideways, I glanced back into my cell. Pulling himself up on the toilet with one arm, Ryker held his gun shakily in the other, his eyes crazed as they flickered to the camera in the corner of the cell and to me. I reached for the fallen guard’s weapon again, but Ryker’s hand twitched and the wall behind me exploded for a second time.
Cursing, I abandoned the gun and bolted down the hall. My prisoner-provided linen shoes slid on the floor. I was losing precious seconds. My mind raced, retracing the steps I had walked so many times with the hood on. Right at sixty-five. Left at one hundred and ninety-seven. The steps were easy, more due to the fact that there were no other paths to take. The elevator came into view. Its doors were open. I pushed harder. The pain in my head was escalating, the alarms seeming to grow in intensity with the throbbing. I slid to a halt inside the elevator. My eyes instantly searched for the buttons, but the panels were all blank except for a scanner. I lunged for the opening, but the doors snapped closed with surprising speed, narrowly missing my hand as I leapt backward. My stomach dropped and I knew the elevator was moving upward.
“Damn it.” I muttered.
I had just trapped myself in a metal gift-wrapped box for The Minister. Taking a deep breath, I searched the ceiling. It looked like a solid surface. There was no escaping. I raced through my options, the doors would open soon and I had to do something. Glancing around I kicked off my shoes and tossed them over the two small cameras in the corners. Now at least both of us were blind. The elevator was small enough if I stretched to my tiptoes I could just reach the opposite side with my fingertips. The progression was slow and painful, but I managed to walk myself up the walls in this strange, extended “x” position. Just as I reached the top, my back touching the ceiling, the momentum of the elevator began to slow. Had I not been suspended in the air, trying to hold myself up, I might not have felt the elevator stop. But as I was precariously perched on the walls of the moving box, I could feel my sweaty fingers slip just a little as the elevator halted. Blood dripped from the wound on my head. A small puddle had collected below me. I pressed my temple to my arm to staunch the bleeding. The doors opened slower than they had closed. I stopped breathing.
I waited. Sweat was beginning to pool on my face.
There were no words spoken, but I could hear the unmistakable sounds of fabric swishing together as someone gave rapid hand signals. Feet began moving against the hard floor outside. There must have been at least six guards by my count. Slowly, the muzzle of a gun protruded its way through the open door, followed
by hands, then arms suited in silver. Just as her blonde head came into view, I retracted my arms and legs, launching myself onto the guard below. My hands wrapped around the barrel of her gun as my feet connected with her knees. The Master’s training on how to successfully disarm someone flashed in my mind as my hands moved. Side-stepping the barrel in case she actually managed to get a round off, I pulled the gun toward me for just a moment dislodging it from her shoulder. As her muscles contracted instinctively to pull the gun back, I moved forward, using her own momentum against her. The butt of the gun popped her hard in the face. As her eyes swam, I twisted the gun up and over her head and spun her like a human top. I brought her to a stop, yanking her arm up behind her back until I could feel the tendons protest. She yelped, but otherwise did not fight me. The whole elaborate dance took barely five seconds and ended with my back to the elevator wall, the gun in my hand, and the unfortunate guard acting as my own personal human shield.
Five armed guards waited outside of the elevator, eyes and guns trained on what little of my face they could see behind their comrade. No one moved.
“Back off or I shoot her.” I twitched the gun, regarding the woman I held before me. Her breathing had become more labored, making a strange gurgling noise. She sagged a little and I cursed for having hit her so hard. If I had to carry her weight as well as work the gun I would be in serious trouble. I pulled up higher on her arm forcing her to walk forward.
The guards moved with us. As I stepped to the edge of the elevator, I risked a quick glance of our surroundings. It was a small lobby of sorts, mostly painted grey and white with minimal furniture. It was empty but for the seven of us. Something moved to my left. A door off of the room opened and The Minister walked through. His face was smug, his white suit pristine as ever. The brass cane was tapping at his side. A pulse of hate rushed though me. Shoving my human shield to the floor, I took aim at Fandrin’s chest and pulled the trigger.
7. FRACTURES
NOTHING HAPPENED.
My finger reflexively pulled the trigger again. Rapidly. Desperately.
Nothing.
I just caught a glimpse of Fandrin’s superior expression as the butt of someone’s gun smashed into my right temple.
I didn’t remember falling, but I was suddenly on the floor with The Minister standing over me. He was twirling the gun I had stolen in his hand. I blinked back the blood flowing from my temple, trying to maintain eye contact with him.
“Great little toys these guns,” he affectionately patted the firearm. “Your mother actually gave me the idea for them. Each gun is specifically formatted to work only with its rightful soldier. Every member of the guard has a unique microchip implanted in their wrist when they enlist. Each chip is then calibrated to its matching firearm. Ingenious really. No one other than a soldier can ever fire a weapon here.”
He pressed the barrel of the gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Despite the knowledge that it wouldn’t fire, I still flinched. Fandrin laughed while tossing the gun to the nearest soldier. As he began walking away he spoke over his shoulder. “Take her back down to the training room, I have a specific lesson in mind for my granddaughter.”
I DIDN’T EXACTLY black out as the guards dragged me along the white halls. To my surprise they didn’t bother putting a bag over my head this time, but the truth was it didn’t really matter. With my vision going in and out, it was unlikely I would remember much anyway.
It startled me when my face hit the black sparring mat that smelled of blood, sweat and rubber. It took a moment for the familiar stink to completely infiltrate my hazy brain. It wasn’t until I heard the whispers of moving feet around me that I realized we were already in the training room.
Had we really gotten here that quickly? How much time had passed?
Someone was talking but I couldn’t quite make out the words. I twisted my head to the side and pushed myself up onto my palms and knees. Big mistake. My eyes popped open, roving the black surface of the mat to find purchase, to find something to ground my spinning head. Blinking twice, my swimming vision finally fell on something small and white. I stared hard at the oddly shaped object until it stopped moving. The instant my vision focused I regretted my choice of anchor. It was a tooth… and based on the size, a child’s. Red blood was still fresh on the porcelain surface. I breathed deeply through my mouth to quiet the roiling in my stomach.
Something in the room had changed. It was silent now. Staying on all fours, I tilted my head to see young Gage standing at the edge of the mat. A manic grin spread across his face as he gestured to me like a psychotic ringleader. I was to be his next performer, the main attraction of this freak show. Something white shifted next to him and my gaze slid to the man standing to his side. The Minister’s hand was cupping Gage’s bony shoulder like a proud father. Hatred welled within the pit of my stomach.
Pushing the nausea aside, I focused on that hate and pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. My temple pulsed where the blood continued to ooze, but I stood my ground. There was a bigger crowd than usual. There were many older soldiers now mixed with the young ones. This was not merely a sparring class. It seemed my punishment was to be a spectacle for the entire academy. Well, if they wanted a show, then I would give them a show.
Assuming my fighting stance I grinned at Gage, letting the blood trickling from my temple run over my lips and into my bared teeth. Surely I looked crazed. I stretched out my hand beckoning him to come fight me. The result was exactly what I had wanted. Several cadets took tentative steps back while Gage lunged hungrily forward, eager to contest me. All I needed was fifteen seconds in the ring with that psychopath. Fifteen seconds and I could snap the neck of the Minister’s prize pet. An all-consuming rage surged within me, a fiery desire to put that rabid dog down.
To my utter disappointment, The Minister’s hand clasped tighter, holding Gage back. Fandrin’s white head tilted as he whispered something in his left ear. A glint sparked in Gage’s eyes that made my scalp prickle.
“Private Riggs front and center.” Gage bellowed, grinning at me.
My heart stopped.
Struggling to keep my stance firm, I felt the entirety of my body run hollow. A tiny child had stepped into the ring, her brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, her large brown eyes wide with fear. Her tiny frame shook slightly, but her mouth was set in a thin line of determination. She was so small, the youngest child yet, maybe seven at the most. I choked back the tears threatening their way to the surface… it was Mouse. My nightmares were becoming reality. They had captured her!
No… no that couldn’t be right.
I stared harder at the little girl. Her eyes were too light, her mouth was too small. I knew all of this, but still, all my exhausted mind saw was Mouse. The girl’s mismatched features blurred from existence and standing before me I saw only my friend.
A door banged open at the far end of the room and while every head turned toward the sound, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the child standing before me. I could hear the crowd parting, the steady march of heavy boots. It wasn’t until I heard ragged breathing through his broken nose that I realized Major Ryker James had finally made it to the party. He stopped close, his body’s heat radiating against my back. Ryker’s labored breathing was the only sound in the room for a few seconds. Then there was a hiss of fabric and whoosh of moving air. I recognized the sounds of an arm raising to strike.
Please… yes, let him end this. I couldn’t help the thought as I stared at the child in front of me. Not her…
“NO!” The Minister’s voice rang out. My hair moved with the force of Ryker’s swing as his fist came to an abrupt halt.
“Please sir,” Ryker’s voice was distorted by his broken nose.
“Your carelessness, Major, is what started this little fiasco in the first place. Now stand down and let a true leader show you how to handle a hostile criminal.” The Minister’s words were simple, but I knew their true meaning. He was tired of playing with me, tired
of being patient. He meant to break me, tonight. “Cadets pay close attention! This fight will show where true loyalties lies, that desire for self-preservation will always wither under The Sanctuary’s power. We fight for the many, not the few.”
Liar, I thought.
Ryker hesitated a moment longer before stepping away. While I could no longer feel his presence against my back, I knew he had not removed himself very far. The tension and anger emanating from his body was still hot against my skin.
I only vaguely heard Gage call out to the cadets around me. “Who do you fight for?”
“The Minister!” The resounding cry echoed off the ceilings. A clap of thunder made from hundreds of voices.
“And what do you trust in?
“The Sanctuary!”
“And how do you fight for it?”
My ears began to ring so loudly I didn’t even hear the response, but I read it on the girl’s lips.
TO THE DEATH!
My palms felt slick, while my throat went dry. I could feel the muscles in my neck spasming as I tried to swallow. To the death…
This wasn’t just another fight in which I could break an arm or render someone unconscious. The Minister meant for me to kill the child or to succumb and let her kill me. Which we both knew would never happen, or at least it couldn’t happen… could it?
Before my mind could fully process the lethality of the situation, the tiny girl was advancing. Her blows were calculated and surprisingly fast. The child fought better then most others twice her age. I backed away, losing my ground as I parried her advances. I was trying to think, to figure some way out of this, but I couldn’t focus. If I let the child win I would lose everything. I would never see Triven or Mouse again and I would be turning this little girl into a murderer, for what? To appease my demented grandfather? To ease my own conscience?
I lashed out twice unconsciously. My survival instincts were clawing their way to the surface. The girl fell back cradling her head before resuming her stance. She spat out a mouthful of blood and began advancing again muttering, “For The Sanctuary.”
New World Ashes Page 5
