New World Inferno

by Jennifer Wilson

  The climate in the air had changed. Subtly at first, but I could feel it now. They were listening.

  “And if we turn on each other?” A Scavenger man I recognized as an Alpha stepped to the front of his huddle, arms crossed.

  “Then kill each other, I don’t care. That’s between you and yours.” I glanced at each Tribe leader and the Adroit representatives in turn. “Just try and take out some Sanctuary guards along the way. When we get inside, aim for the silver uniforms.”

  “There is only one rule.” Triven amended, glancing at me for approval. “If soldiers on the other side surrender, let them live.”

  “We make no promises.” A tall but scrawny Scavenger croaked behind his Alpha, his narrowed eyes greedily looking at the advanced weapons in Triven’s hands.

  I had expected as much. Especially from the Scavengers. You couldn’t release wild hounds and be surprised when they attacked… or turned on you.

  “Neither do we.” I leveled at the Scavenger before slowly forcing eye contact with as many of the Tribe members in the room that I could. Both Teya and Sedia met my scrutiny with equal intensity. “This is not a truce. It’s an understanding. But, cross us and we will cross you.”

  “I knew I liked you.” Sedia smirked behind her hand mask with a wink. Then she did the thing I was still afraid to. She called a vote.

  “Join?” She barked to her people. The same haunting cry as before tremored from the surrounding Taciturns. Her grin widened as the skull-covered hand fell away. “Join.”

  “Join.” Teya barked decisively, looking a little annoyed she did not say it first. Unlike the Taciturns, however, there was no vote in her Tribe. A queen did not ask her subjects’ permission. Her Wraiths would fight because she bid them so.

  There were sporadic murmurers of “Join” from the Scavengers though their enthusiasm was lacking in comparison and five more scurried back up the ramp, committing to nothing. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would show at all. Probably not.

  All eyes turned to the Adroits, and though I already knew the answer, the words still stung.

  “We abstain.” They said it in unison, the choice made long ago.

  Teya’s shoulders pulled back with rage, but I kept my voice calm despite my own boiling anger. “The choice is yours. Go.”

  Without another word, the purple cloaks swirled and the Adroits were gone, Legs’ finger still pressed firmly on his trigger.

  “Cowards!” Sedia called after them, earning a round of laughter from her Tribesmen.

  I didn’t spare the vacant door a second glance and Triven’s gun shifted in the Adroits’ absence. No one moved, listening for their retreating footsteps. Then a piercing howl echoed down into our man-made cave. Unlike the rest of us, the Wraiths relaxed.

  “They’re gone.” Teya nodded at me. The howl had been a signal for her. “When does The Wall come down?”

  “Tomorrow night.” I replied.

  A shockwave of displeasure pulsed through the Tribes.

  “One night is not enough time to prepare!” A Taciturn cried out, an elaborate dagger tattoo started under his chin and ended at a point just above his belly button. Many nodded in agreement, including the woman next to him whose jaw was covered in inked scales like a human snake.

  “I know.” I agreed. “But one night is all you get.”

  “And if your precious Wall doesn’t come down?” A Wraith warrior, nearly as tall as Grenald, spoke from Teya’s side. It was obvious this was her right-hand man. Her Second.

  Triven flinched at my response.

  Faking all the confidence I could muster, I spoke.

  “You can shoot me.”

  THE GATHERING DIDN’T last much longer. Tensions were high and feet were edging to escape. Vague instructions were given out, telling them where to gather. But even with their proclamations to join us, I kept the details scant. Minds and loyalties could change and I would not risk being betrayed. Not when we were this close. We had prepared to show them the Rebels’ video, but the Tribes needed no further enticement. Whatever their reasons, they were in. It seemed almost too easy. Though Elin would have said differently. The remaining Tribes had given their word, but their word meant little without action.

  Our recon team had seemed genuinely surprised when Triven and I finally emerged. Though they had supported us, it was clear they had not expected us to succeed. Or survive.

  “Are they in?” Archer had been the only one brave enough to ask when we reached them.

  “All but the Adroits.”

  No one had responded. We just gathered our things and took off, racing back to the Master’s for our last twenty-four hours of peace.

  The clock was ticking down to the final hours and though there were still plans to rehash and sleep needed, there was only one thing I wanted. One person I needed to see.

  Xavier was waiting for us a block out from his building. The aging man didn’t bother hiding his surprise. His eye darted over us, doing the math. “Well, damn.”

  “Careful old man, you almost sounded impressed.” I muttered walking past him.

  He snorted and took the lead. “Careful, you’re starting to sound cocky.”

  “That’s not new.” Archer piped in from behind us and there was a collective chortle from the group. It was a nice sound, something we hadn’t heard in weeks. Being back here had lifted a weight in some way. For the next day, anyway, we were free to be ourselves again. Free to hide away and pretend tomorrow would never come.

  Though Xavier took us in an entirely new way, as usual, the passage was not empty. People slumped against walls, heads hanging low, some dozing in each other’s arms. It wasn’t until they saw us and began to cheer, rising to their feet, that I realized they had been waiting. For us.

  Hands reached out, patting, shaking and gripping as we passed accompanied by shouts of relief and welcome. Even those who usually gave me a wide berth were suddenly brazen enough to touch me. It had never occurred to me what our return would mean to them. While Triven and the others graciously embraced their friends and family, I pushed through the crowded hall, shoving hands aside as I sought the very back of the swarm.

  I had seen her for a split second before everyone rose. I swore I had seen a mop of dark brown hair with blonde curls next to it. My feet stumbled in their haste, tripping over toes. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I tried to catch a glimpse of brown hair or a round face, but all I could see were shoulders.

  “Phoenix!” Someone was calling from behind me. I ignored it.

  I rather rudely shoved an older man aside and then I saw her.

  Mouse stood back from the crowd, her tiny hands folded gently at her waist. Doc’s hand rested on her shoulder but I hardly saw him. All I saw was the sterile white bandage wrapped thickly around Mouse’s neck. My mind went blank and then I was rushing to her. Falling to my knees, I grabbed urgently for her throat, inspecting the wound.

  Heat burned in my cheeks and my vision went red.

  “How?!” I screamed, glaring up at Doc Porters.

  Stuttering, Doc yanked his hand away as if my rage had scalded him and Mouse’s eyes popped in surprise, but I was already pulling away from her, turning on the person who had been calling my name.

  “What the HELL did YOU DO?!” My hands were searching for a weapon. I would kill him if he hurt her.

  Xavier actually recoiled, his hands snapping up in defense.

  “Phoenix, it’s okay.” Doc had found his voice.

  I didn’t take my eyes off the Master. “It is NOT okay!”

  People were turning to watch us now, backing away. Triven appeared behind Xavier looking confused, but the second his eyes moved to Mouse, his expression twisted to match mine.

  Fingers trembling, I had found my gun. My thumb found the catch, but just as I pulled to release it, a small hand pressed over mine, pushing the weapon back down into the holster.

  Mouse stepped in front of me, her dark eyes determined but bright. She snatc
hed my hands with a tug, forcing me to look down at her. For a second she flashed a shy smile, then opened her mouth and said in a flawless small voice, “Phoenix.”

  28. FURNACE

  “Y

  OU PROMISE IT doesn’t hurt?” I was still staring at Mouse in disbelief.

  She nodded, beaming from ear to ear.

  The shock still hadn’t worn off. Not after I had made her say my name three more times, not after Doc had spent nearly an hour answering all our questions.

  My legs had given out when she first said my name, the concrete floor leaving angry bruises and Triven had nearly taken out three people reaching us, but none of that mattered.

  Mouse had a voice. My Mouse.

  “Say it again.” I grinned at her in awe.

  “Phoenix. Triven.” Our names came out on clumsy lips and an unpracticed tongue, but they sounded perfect to me.

  “And you trust the device?” I asked Doc for the twentieth time.

  “My brother always was a genius.” Doc blinked back tears.

  “Must run in the family.” I said. Doc blushed.

  “I can’t believe you kept this a secret.” Triven pushed a stray lock out of Mouse’s face and the child smiled at him.

  Not sure it would work, she signed.

  Despite now having a voice, she still used her hands out of habit. Doc had also mentioned it would take a little while for her body to adjust. Like all muscles, her voice would take time to strengthen. She pressed a finger to the small lump I could see under the healing skin on her throat. Nestled in with her vocal cords, reconnecting the severed ties, was a small device expertly crafted by Doc’s brother, Thaddeus. Yet another gift from the Rebels on the other side of The Wall.

  Skilled in the ways of technology, Thaddeus had made the contraption while we took refuge with the Rebels. But for all his genius designs, he was not the gifted doctor that his brother was. So, unbeknownst to us, Thadd had sent the miracle package back with instructions for his brother to implant. Worlds apart and the Porters brothers had managed to give a girl back her voice.

  Triven and I watched as Doc made Mouse run through a series of vocal exercises. They had been practicing them for nearly a week—the secret surgery taking place the day after we left—but tonight, my name had been her first official word in nearly two years.

  I was about to ask her to speak again when there was a knock on the door.

  Triven’s mother stood in the doorway. Her arms were crossed but there was a hesitation in her movements. As though she didn’t want to ruin this moment as much as we hoped she wouldn’t.

  “Archer led most of the debriefing, we should be set for tomorrow. The weapons are ready and the rations divided—we’re as prepared as we can be.” She spoke in the familiar sharp tone I had once hated.

  “And the rooftops?” I asked, not moving from Mouse’s side.

  “I helped ready them myself. They are exactly to your specifications.”

  I only nodded and she shifted.

  “I understand you want to be alone and you will have time, but the others are waiting.” She looked at her son, thawing a bit.

  “Waiting?” Triven slipped a hand around my waist, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere without me.

  Doc paused in packing up his things. “We are having one last Subversive party.”

  “A party now?” I turned to Arstid in surprise.

  “Our people came home safely, and after tomorrow we may never get to celebrate that again.” Her gold eyes wandered to her son.

  This wasn’t only a celebration, it was a goodbye.

  “Please?” The small voice still made my heart hitch. Mouse was looking at me pleadingly. They must have been planning this for a while, hoping we would return.

  I smiled back at her. “For you kid, anything.”

  THE FOOD WAS a sad showing, not of the usual standards for a Subversive gathering, but it was perfect nonetheless. Friends gathered, told stories, held each other, laughed and cried. The majority of us were leaving tomorrow. We would stand on the rooftops and wait for the rebels to fulfill their part of the deal. And if The Wall came down, then we would plunge head first into a war that would change our world forever. Those not joining us were staying here for one of a few reasons, too old to fight or too young, to tend to the children, or like Veyron, because they refused to fight for something they didn’t believe in. But tonight, we were all on the same side. Tonight, these people were not soldiers readying for battle, they were friends. They were family.

  I had watched most of it carefully removed until Archer literally pulled me into the mix. It was both soothing and depressing. I sought the faces I knew, and tried not to see ones I had yet to learn. I couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t memorize more faces that might die because I had asked them.

  Triven was taking both Mouse and Maribel for a spin on the dance floor, and I took the moment to excuse myself for some air. I wandered down the maze of halls until I found a deserted one. Sliding down the cool wall, I dropped my head to my knees. It suddenly felt too heavy. Everything felt too heavy.

  “It’s not easy asking people to die for you, is it?” Arstid stood pale as a ghost, blocking the way I had just come.

  I hadn’t heard her follow me, though I hadn’t been listening either. To my surprise, she didn’t keep her usual stiff power-stance, but slumped in the floor across from me. It was the first time I noticed how much she had aged since we left. Dark circles rounded her eyes and her lips had grown thinner. Everything about her had grown thinner.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, I pitied her.

  “You’re not the girl I would have chosen for my son.” She eyed me, her left eyebrow raised.

  Any sympathy I had evaporated instantly.

  “Then it’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to value your opinion very much.” I retorted. If my words stung, she didn’t show it.

  “My son and I see eye-to-eye on very little these days.” Arstid smiled tiredly. “I suppose that does work in your favor.”

  I stared at her, wondering what she wanted.

  “You don’t make it easy to like you.” Her gold eyes were sharp as a bird of prey’s.

  “Neither do you.”

  She tilted her head accepting the insult. “Leaders don’t always get the privilege of being liked.”

  “Like my mother?” I threw the words at her and Arstid flinched.

  “Yes.” Taking a deep breath, she shook her silvery head, trying to clear it. “Leaders ask people to die for them. And people will die for you.”

  I ground my back teeth together. “I know.”

  “My son may be one of those.” Arstid’s voice hushed as though if she said it quite enough it wouldn’t be true. My chest instantly tightened.

  “He will follow you anywhere.” Her eyes bore into mine, holding me hostage.

  I snarled. “I would make him stay here if I could. Safe. With Mouse.”

  She studied me for a moment. “I don’t doubt that. But my son hasn’t listened to me for a long time and he won’t listen to you—not about that.”

  She blinked and I looked away from hers. There was blood on the toe of my boot. I rubbed them together trying to remove it, rubber squeaking in our silence.

  “I won’t let him die.” He can’t die, is what I meant.

  “You can’t make that promise. Everyone dies.” Arstid’s voice traveled, lost in thought, in memories.

  Yes, everyone dies. It was part of being human. Part of being alive.

  “I will do everything in my power to bring him back to you again.” My eyes shot up, trying to force the promise in my words on her.

  “For once, I believe you.” She cleared her throat in an awkward cough as she rose to her feet. She began to walk away, then paused. Turning her head back she spoke over her shoulder. “He told me what you did. What happened inside… I wouldn’t have picked you, but… even I can be wrong.”

  And then she walked away.

  I balked. Was that
an apology? There was something about her tone, as if she was not just forgiving me, but forgiving my mother as well. Would she feel the same when she found out about our bloodlines? About who my grandfather was?

  A beep jolted me out of my reverie, causing me to jump to my feet. Something in my pocket had vibrated. Snatching Ryker’s device, I stared at the screen. It was no longer black. Flickering back were white numbers. And they were counting down. Twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes and forty-eight seconds. Forty-seven… Forty-six…

  Less than twenty-four hours.

  Shoving the screen back in my pocket, I set out to find Mouse and Triven. The clock was now literally ticking.

  MOUSE DIDN’T CRY when we left her this time. She seemed determined not to. Her brown eyes glistened but not a single tear fell. She only said two words, her hands signing as she spoke.

  “Be careful.”

  The child had spent the night in my arms, her head tucked under my chin as I curled my back into Triven’s chest. None of us slept. Three bodies breathing in unison. Three minds racing.

  The atmosphere had changed in the morning. All signs of the previous night’s festivities had disappeared and a cloud had rolled over the Subversive people. The long day was spent checking and re-checking gear, reviewing maps already memorized. The waiting was almost worse than seeking out the Tribes. At least then we had purpose, we were moving.

  That was how we found ourselves spanning the rooftop with two hours still ticking down on Ryker’s timer.

  The Subversive members were barely recognizable. War paint of every color smeared faces, shadowed eyes, and painted bodies. They were clad in homemade armor, armed with weapons stolen from the Ravagers and donated from the Rebels. A buzz vibrated in the air, surging through us, singing in our blood.

  The Wall stood tall as ever. Humming with energy—virile and alive, it showed no signs of failing.