I sent the others to gather the best weapons they could acquire and went to find Xavier. The stairs leading down to his vault were steep and I relished each easy breath while descending them. I owed Doc for his help. Not only in allowing me to be healed, but also for giving the choice to the Subversive members. Healing me was no longer a selfish act, but a gift given by those who trusted us. The serum he had wasn’t as efficient as the most recent batch. The bruises lingered, fading to ripe yellows, but my ribs had at least mended and although they still ached slightly, were no longer crushing my lungs.
Xavier was sitting on a pile of papers and glittering rocks in the corner of a steel-clad room looking his usual brooding self. He was using the tip of a dagger to pick something out from under his fingernails. My feet never made a sound and he never looked up, but The Master knew it was me.
“You seem to have quite the following up there kid.” He pointed the knife tip at the room above us, then went back to picking his nails with it.
“For someone who said he didn’t want to be involved, you’re keeping a rather close watch.”
He smiled darkly, still focusing on his fingers. “What do you want Phoenix?” He had never been one for niceties.
“Thank you for taking them in.”
“And?”
“And, I want you to train them. Many have skills but they’re rusty. I need them on point.” I thought of the children running with knives, who were more likely to harm themselves then wield them for protection. I swallowed hard. “Even the kids.”
He froze, glaring at me over the blade. “You’re making a child army of your own now?”
I flushed crimson at the accusation. Actually, I had expected the comparison to my grandfather, but it still ignited rage. “Not in the least. But I also refuse to let those people—even those children—up there walk out into this without knowing how to defend themselves.”
He tilted his head. “So you want me to train them, like I trained you.”
I thought of the relentless lessons, the concussions and constant bite of his cane when I messed up. “Do that, and I will break your nose.”
He scoffed.
“My ribs are healed and the last two times we met I bested you. You may be better than me in the long run, but I can still break your face before you take me down.”
He laughed louder this time. “I almost missed that fire, kid. Almost.”
“So, you’ll do it?”
“What’s in it for me?” He reached down into his throne of junk and picked up a gold disk, rolling it idly between his knuckles.
“When this is over, we leave you alone. You’ll be free to live wherever you want, however you want. And I will personally guarantee you’re given whatever you need to make that happen.”
“And if you get yourself killed, then who’s going to pay me what I’m owed?” It was a serious question. A relevant one.
“I will make sure everyone knows of our deal. You won’t walk away empty handed. And you can live out the remainder of your pathetic life as an angry old hermit. Do we have a deal?”
He tossed the useless coin aside, letting it clatter down a pile to the floor. “For now.”
“You will only train the kids how to hold a knife and defend themselves. The defense basics—that’s it. I don’t want them sparring. I don’t want them fighting.” With that, I turned to leave him to his sulking, pausing when he called out to me.
“Don’t forget. You have twelve days and I’m kicking you out. All of you.”
“Deal.” I said over my shoulder. I prayed the Rebels would uphold their end of the bargain, or we would be trapped here, homeless, with four pissed off Tribes on our tails.
“Good luck!” he crowed after me. “Don’t get yourselves blown up!”
15. FOOLISH
I STARED OVER the edge of the building at the destruction around us.
My entire resolve had spoiled in the two hours it took us to get here. Despite our caution, there had been three close calls with Ravager hunting parties. It seemed they were on the warpath since losing their food supplies. While the thought made me smile, it was also a huge inconvenience we hadn’t originally accounted for. To make matters worse, they were hunting Adroits just like we were.
After closing in on two potential kidnap victims we found ourselves beaten to the punch. A block before we planned to descend on them, the Ravagers got to them first. I had had to plug my ears against their screams, choking back my own. In the end, once the Ravagers had had their fill, the kindest thing we could do was quicken their slow deaths. Archer eased their suffering with two clean shots. It was nearly twenty minutes before any of us was ready to move on again.
It had become painfully clear that while we had wanted to avoid getting too close to the Adroits’ blast area, it was the only place the Ravagers were also unwilling to go. Now, we crouched low over the crumpled edge of a half-blasted building, glaring suspiciously at the ground below. What could barely be called a wall stood across from us, providing what little shelter there was. Beyond that, there was nothing. I saw nothing but rubble and bits of torn metal littering the streets, but Elin’s keen eyes saw more. His finger extended as he pointed out two triggers carefully buried in the dirt. They were barely visible, the oblong mounds blending in with the rest of the debris around them. Now that he had pointed them out, however, I could see two more further down the street.
“They’re everywhere,” Triven whispered next to me.
“At least nine every block.” Archer agreed. “Shit.”
It was three blocks to the Adroits’ factory. We would be lucky to make it one.
“Maybe we should re-think this.” Otto stared wide-eyed at the streets below us. I was inclined to agree with him. Something felt off and my instincts were usually right.
“No, no. I got this.” Elin’s voice sounded sure, though I didn’t buy it. “We just have to make it to that building.” He fingered a small cinderblock structure two blocks down. “They keep some supplies in there. We might be able to surprise a couple of them.”
The approach there was completely exposed. I could see everyone else was thinking along the same lines. Even Arden’s eyes narrowed at the gaping streets.
What was that Old World saying? Something about shooting fish in a barrel? The phrase finally made sense to me and we were about to be the fish.
Elin must have been gauging our doubtful expressions. “They never watch that area cuz the IEDs do the work for them.” He tried to reassure us. “Trust me. I used to scavenge it all the time.”
I still couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my chest, but maybe this was always what it felt like to trust others’ plans.
“Grenald?” Triven turned to him, questioningly eyeing the rope he carried.
The huge man didn’t seem keen on the idea either, but began unraveling it from his massive shoulders. Creeping to the edge of a hole in the roof, he slowly lowered the rope into the depths of the building. Lacing the cording around his lower back, he braced his feet against a wall and nodded at Elin.
The ex-Scavenger slid lithely down the rope first, with Archer quick to follow. I was surprised when she had requested to join us on the ground level instead of taking point in the roost. But Otto was a good enough marksman to keep watch for us, and despite missing an arm, Archer was exemplary at hand-to-hand combat. I thought maybe it was her way of trying to make up for not helping with the Wraiths. Personally, I would have preferred the latter.
My feet were already on solid ground before Triven had climbed onto the rope. Elin was waiting by a doorframe, scanning the alley. As Triven’s boots zipped down the line, Elin pointed to his eyes then down at his feet lifting them in turn. Step where I step.
As Archer kept her weapon on the streams of washed-out sunshine leaking in through the building’s many holes, I followed Elin. Gun and knife drawn. The slight drag of a right toe told me Triven was following.
Elin carved a calculated path through the alleyway, w
eaving toward the open street. Every footstep was placed with caution, falling exactly into his treads. I counted the IEDs as we passed them. Seven lined the alleyway alone. I paused as the sound of Elin’s footsteps changed in front of me. I didn’t dare take a step without looking down.
The young man had stopped in the middle of the street about twenty paces in front of me, a triumphant smile on his face. Elin’s arms spread wide as if to say, “See I told you they don’t watch this area.”
For an instant, the emerald hue of his eyes glowed brilliantly in the green-tinged sun. Pride beamed on his face, then there was a crack, and the smile faltered. A snap of red exploded on Elin’s chest and his body was suddenly being propelled backward. His knees didn’t even buckle. The boy simply tipped backward from his heels like a falling tree. I could see the look of shock register on his face the instant before his body hit the ground. I never heard the click, but there was a brilliant light followed by a searing heat and an explosion loud enough to rattle my teeth.
The ground disappeared from under me. I was airborne. An outburst of heat scorched down the alley walls. My hand flew up automatically as I tried to twist away. The ground rushed up, knocking the wind from my newly healed lungs with a violent huff.
Rubble and body parts rained down in a mist of red. With my arms wrapped around my skull, I pulled the hood over my head knowing it would do little. The heavy thuds twisted my stomach as they hit the earth and bounced off my body. I was about to pull my head up when six more explosions went off in the street behind me, each following the other. One was so close, I could feel the shockwave ripple the ground. I now understood the pattern the bombs had been placed in, and why there were so many. One goes off and a chain reaction would ensue. The other must have been set off by what remained of Elin, or… or…
Dirt filled my nostrils, the grit spiked with an ammonic tang as I pulled my face up, desperately searching for signs of movement. A ringing deafened my ears as the last bits of rubble rained down, not that it mattered. I doubted anyone was stupid enough to call out anyway.
I wasn’t facing the street anymore, but back toward the hole in the building we had just exited through.
Relief warmed my chest as I caught sight of a sandy head shaking itself fifteen paces in front of me. The soot had stained the golden head grey, but he was moving. Triven was struggling to his feet, his eyes screwed up against the shock of the blasts. There were a few scrapes on his cheeks, a larger one oozed from his temple, but he appeared whole. Archer was there in the fading smoke, pulling Triven up, her eyes turned in my direction. Behind them, Arden’s terrified face poked out of the opening. The dark dust deepened his already prominent scars. Bruised and scared, but they were at least alive.
Elin had been wrong, the Adroits did have snipers. The haze gave us some shelter, but it was quickly dissipating. We had to get back under the cover of the building. Planting my elbows underneath my chest, I began to push myself upright and froze. I thrust a panicked palm at all three of them as they picked their way toward me and then made a chopping motion at Triven. Stop! Maybe I even said the word aloud too, but it never pierced the ringing in my ears.
We had been blown off our carefully selected path.
Triven froze immediately as he saw what I had seen. Pulling back on Archer’s arm, he pointed down. Less than a hand’s length from my nose was an undetonated IED. Everyone’s attention flashed to the ground. Cautiously, I pushed myself back onto my heels, away from the live bomb. As I rose, a piece of gravel crunched under my boot, causing my entire body to seize.
I closed my eyes. Breathing no longer seemed second nature. It’s nothing, you’re fine. After taking two shaky breaths, I began searching for my earlier footsteps in the dirt. They were faint at first, but grew more visible the father I got from the blast zone—from Elin—the small voice in my mind whispered. I tried not to think of the look on his face as he fell.
I shook my head, “Focus!”
Triven remained perfectly still until I reached him. Archer’s rifle bounced around the mouth of the alley, waiting for a target to appear. When one didn’t, she finally gave up and made her way after us. No one spoke.
Was it possible the Adroits didn’t know the rest of us were here? Had they only seen Elin? Or had they thought the other explosions had taken care of the rest of us?
As we made it inside, Grenald’s ashen face appeared in the hole above us. I shoved Arden to the rope first. Once atop he could help Grenald pull Archer up faster. Heat was rolling off our one-handed companion in waves, her long limbs trembling. She refused to meet my gaze and part of me was grateful. It wasn’t until she was pulled halfway to the roof, that I turned and pressed my face into Triven’s chest. A few tears squeezed their way free as his hand pulled tightly at the nape of my neck. I couldn’t tell if it was just me shaking or both of us.
This had gone horribly wrong.
I had let Elin take lead against my better judgement, and now he was dead. Another Subversive member killed because of my actions. We weren’t any closer to gathering the Tribes and if we didn’t get away from here fast enough, we could all suffer the same fate. A hand’s width and we would have been dead.
Once all six of us were back on elevated ground, we ran. We ran and we didn’t stop, not until the smoke was miles behind us and the stench of the explosives had faded away. When we finally took shelter on the top floor of an abandoned building, I doubled over and vomited. Guts still clenching, I moved away from the pile of sick. I straightened, trying to stretch the cramping muscles and was immediately met with Archer’s fist as it shot toward my face.
16. FAULTS
“E
LIN IS DEAD because of you!”
Shocked, I barely had time to turn my head. Archer’s fist grazed my cheekbone, clipping my left ear. Her long arm snapped back, thrusting forward twice more in quick succession. Both times narrowly missing its target.
“What the hell, Archer!” I yelled.
As the shock of her attack wore off, anger flared. How dare she blame me? If she and the others hadn’t refused to help us, to share the secrets they knew about their ex-Tribes, then this would have never happened. I wouldn’t be wearing Elin’s blood like war paint. Before I could stop to think, my fists clenched and I fought back. I had expected her to retreat, but instead Archer threw herself harder into the assault.
She had nearly a foot on me, and as her body slammed into mine, a bony shoulder smashed into my face. We rolled, gathering filth from the ground. Dust came off us in clouds as we punched, kicked and snarled our way across the room. What I lacked in height, I made up for in rage. Incoherent words snarled from our lips, neither of us pulling punch.
Someone—Triven probably—moved to intervene, but Grenald’s voice stopped him.
“Let them get it out.”
And get it out we did. I landed a kick to Archer’s chest, effectively throwing her backward. Springing to our feet, I drew back to punch her. Both our hands flew out and while my throw had more skill, Archer’s arm was longer. Bracing myself for the hit, I froze, dumbfounded as she struck me. Not with a fist as I had expected, but with an open palm. The sharp snap sliced through the air and someone behind me gasped. The action was so much more demeaning than any punch.
Archer stiffened, seeming surprised by her own actions.
I took advantage of her hesitation. My palm struck with an equally impressive sound. To her credit, she took the returned slap. Never flinching. Blood rushed to her cheek outlining my handprint on her bronzed skin. The sting on my own cheek a sign that we matched.
She heaved, stepping so close to me I had to crane my neck back to see her face. “I thought you said you knew the Tribes.”
“I DO know them—as much as any outsider can know! But I was never one of them, unlike some people!” I stepped even closer to her, leaving no room between us. Archer stood her ground but straightened, distancing her face from mine. I continued, breathing heavy. “Maybe if we actually knew so
meone who had been in the Tribes, this might be easier! Hell, we might even survive this stupid mission. But wait… too bad we seem to be fresh out of ex-Tribesmen. Right, Archer?!” I slammed my body into hers, shoving her back a step. “I mean, it’s not like you know anything that could have saved Elin’s life. Right?! It’s not like you could have led us to another Tribe or anything!” This time I shoved against her thin shoulders. She staggered.
Twice Archer’s mouth popped opened, and twice nothing came out. Tears were brimming on her thick lashes. She tried to blink them away.
I was right and she knew it. I wasn’t completely guiltless in Elin’s death, but neither was she. Her refusal to help with the Wraiths killed him just as much as my ignorance about the Adroits.
“If all of you continue to refuse to help with your own Tribes, others are going to die.” I dropped my voice. It wasn’t a threat. It was the truth. “We can’t continue to do this blind. You have to be involved.”
Archer shifted on the balls of her feet, refusing to look at anyone. Her right hand groped at the stump abruptly ending her left arm. The others’ gazes fell away with their own guilt. Only Triven still watched us. Grief distorted his features, pulling them down. He hated all of this as much as I did.
A long finger leveled at my face. The tip quivered between my eyes. “Fine… FINE! But I swear on The Wall, if she… if you…” Tears fell freely from Archer’s eyes now, fueled by a hundred emotions. “I will make everyone regret you ever asked me to do this. Got it?”
I slapped her finger away.
“Fine.”
UNCOMFORTABLE DIDN’T EVEN begin to describe the rest of the run back to Xavier’s. Though only Archer and I had quarreled, our exchange had greatly affected the entire party. A cloud of regret and guilt followed us the entire way, the loss of Elin’s life haunting our steps. We were coming home emptyhanded and a man short. I wondered if any of the others would even bother showing up to our next attempt or if this was the first nail in the coffin.
New World Inferno Page 12
