“Look, I can’t promise you anything. But no one wants that man dead more than I do, Archer,” my words were sharp. “And if it takes gathering the Tribes to bring him down, I’m going to try.”
Archer’s shoulders had relaxed a little, the tension of the last twenty-four hours having faded, but her brow puckered. “I won’t help you with the Wraiths. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I will do what I can to help with the other Tribes, but not them. Not her.”
“That’s fair.”
Pushing off the wall she moved fully into the opened window. “The rats are moving out.”
“Then so are we.” I rose, checking the window for myself before heading back to the steps.
Archer hesitated at the top. “They will find out. When The Wall comes down, our people will find out who you are.”
“I know.” I paused but didn’t look back. “You too.”
“Don’t remind me.” I heard the double click as she checked her safety again. “Let’s go meet this Healer of yours.”
9. TRANSACTIONS
T HE WEATHERED ROPE felt oddly familiar. I gave it a little tug for good measure. Despite Archer’s presence, the old woman had tossed down the ladder at my whistle. Which unnerved me more than if she had shot at us.
Was it The Healer up there waiting for us?
I glared up at the dark opening in the water tower base. The distance was greater than I had remembered. A fall would be deadly. I glanced at the space where Archer’s left hand should have been and she bristled.
“I’ve got this.”
I nodded speculatively. “Fine, but if you fall off and die, that’s on you. Oh, and for once in your life, keep your mouth shut when we get up there.”
“Or what?”
“Or she may kill us both.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me to leave my gun down here on the ground too.”
I snorted. “On the contrary, your finger had better not leave the trigger and if it does go south, make sure you’re the one to shoot first.”
This should have been easy. I had climbed this rope nearly a hundred times, and yet this was different. I was different. I had never liked the idea of being trapped in The Healer’s water tower, but as we ascended toward the open hatch, images of my cell in the Sanctuary flashed into my thoughts. No windows, one door, and walls that seemed to slowly close in on you. My breath was rapid and shallow as droplets of perspiration clung to my forehead.
“Pull it together.” I growled to myself. I could see Archer eyeing me, but amazingly she held her tongue.
True to her word she was keeping pace with me, linking her left elbow through the worn rungs as her hand moved to the next. I thrust myself up the last few steps, propelling my body into the darkness above. When my feet landed, the knife at my hip was already drawn. The air was stifling and the usual fire burning low in the corner was the only light. The metallic echo of my feet on the tower was still ringing when Archer’s head popped through the opening.
She recoiled, “Smells like something died in here.”
I could have kicked her.
“Tings die in ‘ere all da time.” A familiar cackle rose from the gloom, followed by a withered hand and a magnificently maintained pistol. It was steady as a rock in her thin hands. “Pull up da rope.”
Archer bent and began the laborious process of gathering the rope and closing the heavy hatch. As she rose, her rifle slid from her back holster, the movement so fluid one might have missed it in the dim light. The Healer, however, narrowed her eyes. Nothing escaped her milky lenses.
“Speakin’ o dead tings, I tot you were a gonna for sure, guuurl.” Her beady eyes swept me from head to toe. “Maybe a part o’ ya did die. Tings different wit ya. da ol’ Healer can smell it.”
Her crowing laugh reverberated in the space, making us cringe. Archer’s grip tightened on her rifle, mine on my knife.
“Tis good to see ya child.” She said quieter now, but her gun did not lower. “And not alone.” The Healer eyed Archer appreciatively. “Dis ya lady?”
Archer snorted. “Please, she would be lucky to have a girl like me.”
Another bout of laughter split the woman’s face and her gun lowered slightly, though her finger was still on the trigger.
“I like dis one. Even more mouthy dan ya.”
Archer’s nose twitched against the pungent aroma but otherwise no one moved.
“What ya want den?” The old woman’s gaze fell hungrily on my bag. A gnarled hand gestured to the table in the center of the room. Avoiding what looked like dried birds’ feet, I dumped half of the contents from my bag onto the stained surface.
“Mmmm…” The Healer purred as she took in the treasures. “Ya been busy.”
“We need healing salve. As much of it as you can make.”
One hooded eye narrowed at me. “Ya planning somethin’ child?”
I shrugged, “Good investment.”
The woman shuffled forward to better inspect my offerings. Archer shifted behind me.
“Ow much ya need?” She spoke to me, but was watching Archer, scrutinizing the girl.
“How much can you make in the next eight hours?”
The cracks in her face deepened as she frowned. “More dan one girl can carry.”
“That’s why I brought a friend.” I dumped the remainder of my bag on the table and she gave me a gap-toothed grin.
“Clear da table. We go’ work to do.”
THE HEAT IN the tower had become overwhelming. My shirt clung to my skin, the stench of my own body odor repulsive as it mixed with the herb-infused air. Archer hovered near the hatch, gun still in hand. Her skin glistened as she mopped her brown forehead with her arm. Her attention never left the old woman. My hands were cramping, aching nearly as bad as my back when I finally stoppered the last jar. The hours had passed in a haze of violet smoke and boiled herbs. The results weighted down my bag. The sting of its strap biting into my shoulder was well worth the stash inside. When the final container disappeared into the bag for Archer, The Healer finally settled back onto her stool, wiping her crooked hands on the filthy layers of her skirt.
The old woman had been careful. Despite my vigilance, she’d added ingredients I’d missed. I knew no matter how hard I tried, The Healer’s potions could never have been replicated.
The jars clinked as I slid the bag from the counter. Archer held out her damaged arm, tilting her head so I could slip the bag over her shoulder without having to let go of her rifle. The Healer was fingering through the things I had brought her, barely paying us any attention.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” I read Archer’s lips, her words so quiet I couldn’t hear them.
Without a glance at the old woman, I bent and yanked the heavy hatch open. A blast of cool air struck my face, clearing my head and chilling the sweat that clung to my skin. It was wonderful.
Archer shivered next to me in pleasure as the air reached her too. Darkness was falling, transforming the city back to the nightscape I knew. I scanned the ground carefully before kicking down the rope. It slithered, hissing against the floor as it fell. Reluctantly I stepped back into the haze and tapped Archer, signaling her to descend first. She didn’t need any coaxing. Archer’s rifle was re-slung over her chest as my fingers gripped my own handgun.
I glanced down for a split second to gauge her progress and started at the sound of moving feet. The Healer was poised in front me, tongue licking her thin lips as she watched me.
I didn’t trust her. I never had. We had offered support for each other, had a kind of symbiotic relationship, but it had ended there. Still, she certainly could be useful. I could maybe even save her life. The problem was in her trading. If I asked her to join us and she refused, then what? If she says no, must I kill her? She traded with too many people. She could leak something to the Ravagers, she could ruin us all. Or I could say nothing and just leave her here… probably to die.
Her wiry grey eyebrows rose. “Hold ya tongue
girl.”
Was it possible the old nut was clairvoyant? Nevertheless, I nodded, heeding her warning. She was telling me what I needed to know. I am not to be trusted with your secrets. Her only side was her own. The Healer was a tradesman, not an ally. She would not side with us or anyone else for that matter.
“Good trade?” I asked, knowing this was most likely the last I would see of the old woman.
“Good trade.”
Without another word, I lowered myself out of the hole in the floor and let go of any notions of saving a woman who didn’t want to be saved.
Archer had paused halfway down the rope, one arm laced though the rungs while the other pointed her rifle at the opening. Relief smoothed her brow when I emerged. As my feet began to move so did hers.
When I finally met solid ground again, night had claimed the city and Archer’s gun was sweeping the perimeter. The rope tugged free from my hands and rose quickly back to its owner.
“To the roofs?” I could hear the edge of relief in Archer’s voice.
“To the roofs.”
The progression was slower now. But despite our cautious movements, every step caused the jars in our bags to clank and each tinkle of glass threatened to giveaway our position. We paused at the opening of an alley, scanning the streets surrounding us. They were quiet, a little too quiet for my liking. I poised to move but Archer caught my arm.
“Why did she trust us to stay up there with her?” This had obviously been plaguing her and I understood it. People didn’t trust people out here. It wasn’t in our nature.
I stepped back, keeping watch on the streets as I answered. “It has nothing to do with trust. The woman may be old, but she’s not senile. Physically, I did most of the heavy lifting for her just now. Plus, that tower of hers? It’s wired to blow at the touch of a button. If anyone tried to cross her, she would blow them to kingdom come without batting an eye. If I had to guess I would say born Adroit.”
“Damn.”
“Impressed?”
“A little, yeah. That old bat is either crazy or a genius.”
“I would go with mostly genius.”
Archer shrugged as though she thought the former.
I started to move before she could object again. We could debate that later. If we didn’t move, we were going to be late for our rendezvous.
Tethers dangled behind us as we scaled the building. Methodically tied at the other ends, the bags from The Healer sat on the ground, waiting to be hauled up. My hands never faltered on the pocketed concrete wall when we reached the access point. But more impressively, neither did Archer’s. It was fascinating to watch. She moved in lunges and tugs, relying on her legs to propel her upwards until her hand caught her next hold. I slowed in fascination, until I caught her teeth glinting in the dark as she passed me. Suddenly this was a race. I plunged my hand into the next hold, yanking my body upward and overtook her in two moves. The win was mine, but as my right hand landed on the roof’s ledge a split second before hers, it suddenly broke away with nothing but a handful of crumbling brick. Gravity jolted as I fell back, a scream strangled in my throat. My left hand kept hold in its pocket. The sharp edges scraped skin from my fingertips as I slid to a halt. The tendons in my shoulder howled as I was yanked toward the earth. For two heartbeats, I swung there, dangling in shock before my feet began to scramble for purchase. Then a hand was in my face, fingers thrust toward me in offering.
I hesitated.
Archer was leaning over the building edge, arm outstretched to me, chest heaving, and her grin spectacular.
“Trust issues much?” She wiggled her fingers.
“Pot. Kettle.” I said, staring pointedly before I grabbed her hand allowing it to pull me up. It was an Old World saying that had always stuck with me.
“Touché.” A hint of a smile tugged her lips.
“I let you win.” I shot back at her as my feet settled beneath shaking legs.
Her gun leveled at my chest in response. “I said I’d shoot you if you lied to me.”
I spread my arms, giving her a larger target. “If you can fire a gun as fast as you run your mouth, then I suppose I had better watch myself.”
Archer genuinely smiled, a snort of laughter huffing from her chest as her gun fell away. “Let’s make a deal, Phoenix. You try and be honest with me and I’ll try not to shoot you.”
I rolled my eyes but returned her smile. “Deal.”
She leaned casually against the roof’s partition as I pulled up our lines. The heavy bags clinked as I hid them in an air shaft to retrieve later. I would send someone back after we raided the Ravagers’ warehouse. Right now, the weight would only slow us down. I scanned the buildings around us. The last rays of the sun had disappeared.
We had been late, but so were the others.
Picking up on my growing tension, Archer left her post to join me on the roof’s ledge.
Her mouth opened, but the words were swallowed by an explosion that rocked the air. Waves of heat assaulted our exposed skin. We hit the ground, arms covering our heads, but the shrapnel never touched us. It was too far away.
Blinking off the shock, I found my feet were suddenly beneath me again. A mushroom cloud ballooned between the rooftops as a flickering light licked broken walls and suddenly I was sprinting. Careening towards it as fast as my legs could carry me.
“What?” Archer’s winded voice barely carried to my buzzing ears.
“The warehouse is under attack!”
Understanding bloomed and Archer’s strides were lengthening, almost overtaking mine.
Our only hope for food was going up in flames.
10. RETRIBUTION
I F THE FLAMES hadn’t been guiding us to the warehouse, then the screams would have. I scrambled to a halt two roofs over from my access roof, stunned. The front of the Ravagers’ warehouse was engulfed in flames, the brick and metal façade quickly searing to black. Still, it was whole. The explosion hadn’t targeted the building, but the guards outside of it. A crater had been blown out of the ground, dead center on the path where the Ravagers made their round. I had watched them walk that route hundreds of times. Apparently, I hadn’t been the only one studying their patterns.
What I assumed to be a Ravager was staggering blindly around the deserted street. His or her—I could no longer tell—entire body was consumed in flames, arms flailing like a flightless bird and useless against the blaze. It transformed the person into a living torch, illuminating the night as it floundered. The screams were so high-pitched they were more animal than human. It was as the body collapsed to the ground and the screaming stopped, that I finally saw what littered the pavement around it.
What I had thought was burning rubble began to take shape and what had looked like a smoldering support beam had grown fingers. I stopped searching for the other two guards that performed rounds. They were there, well, parts of them at least.
The smell of burning flesh made me sick.
Archer’s hand pressed over her mouth, clearly trying not to gag. Then her head whipped back, the stench forgotten. “Someone’s coming.”
Her gun was raised as my knives broke free from their casings. I crouched, ready to let them fly.
Shadows emerged from the smoke, guns raised. Immediately I rose pushing Archer’s rifle aside.
“Triven.” The relief in my voice was thick.
His expression spoke the same words. You’re alive.
We reached for each other’s hands, squeezing as they connected, then quickly letting go.
Ten others emerged behind him, breathing heavy, eyes fixed on the mayhem before us.
“Did you?” Triven stiffened as he took in the bodies.
Before I could respond, the side door to the warehouse burst open.
I hissed, sinking to my knees and felt the others follow suit.
Three silhouettes had emerged, weapons in hand. They charged to the front of the building. The first Ravager stopped, nearly tripping over his still smol
dering comrade. The others faltered, colliding with the first. I could see the metal adorning his face glinting in the firelight. In unison, their pierced heads turned to the burning building.
The biggest man turned, shoving one of the Tribesmen with such force the smaller man was momentarily airborne before slamming back down to the ground.
“Get Hendrix, NOW!” The man was literally foaming at the mouth. Specks flying as he screamed.
The curvier figure reacted first. She took off down the street leaving the third man to scramble after her. A guttural roar split the night, making us flinch. The lone Ravager flew into a rage, kicking his dead Tribesman on the ground, then launching a handful of dirt at the growing wall of fire. A chunk of the building’s exterior crumbled off, devoured by the flames.
I stared up at the hazy night sky, wishing for the first time that rain would fall. Toxic or not, it could still put out a fire. Though the building had barely been damaged by the explosion, the fire was going to take it to the ground. But the sky gave me nothing. If we were going to save any supplies inside, we had to move now.
Pulling the handgun from my hip, I trained it on the Ravager’s chest. At this distance, it was better to aim for the larger target than the obvious kill shot of the head. The trigger pushed back slightly as I flexed my finger. I could feel the others watching, but no one moved to stop me. We all understood. One life to feed our starving people.
Exhaling slowly, I began to squeeze. But before the hammer engaged—before I could fire—the Ravager took a staggering step back directly onto a landmine. The click was barely audible, then he was gone. One second the Ravager stood before the burning building, the next he was raining down around us. Triven’s arms wrapped over my head pulling me down as the explosion shook our rooftop.
“Adroits.” He yelled over the ringing in my ears. One thing was sure, at least we knew they were already long gone. That Tribe never stuck around to watch their handiwork.
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