New World Inferno

by Jennifer Wilson

  “Shit!” I stammered. There was a second lift, its doors wide. I had to get there, to follow them. “Zeek, the elevators?!”

  “I’m almost in.” He sounded more confident than before. “Cameras are mine!”

  “Take her.” I tried to pass off Mouse to Arstid, but she was already moving, rushing toward the elevators where Fandrin and Arden had just disappeared.

  I moved to follow, gun raised, unsure of what to do with the girl in my arms. Fandrin was mine, I was going to be the one to bring him down. But Mouse…

  Arms reached out to me as a deep voice offered salvation.

  “Give her to me.” Teya stepped closer, slipping her hands under my arms. “I’ll take her to safety. You, go after him.”

  She pulled on Mouse, but I held her tight. “If anything happens to her—”

  Teya cut me off, “You kept both my daughters safe. I will protect yours.”

  She pulled again and this time I let Mouse slide into her arms, snarling. “Protect her.”

  “With my life.” And the Wraith disappeared, running for the stairwell.

  I plowed in the opposite direction toward the elevator, following Arstid. Shoving my way forward, I punched two officers and flipped a kid without slowing. Another bullet hit my back and the already broken ribs blazed, but I kept moving. When I finally reached the hall beyond, I was less than ten steps behind her. Bullets chased us down the corridor, but their aim was wild. Arstid dove into the open elevator and I slid in after her. The doors didn’t move.

  “Zeek!?” I screamed looking for a button to push.

  “I’m in!!” He whooped with joy.

  “Get us moving?” Arstid stood back as I fired a few rounds out the door at the officers trailing us.

  “At least close the doors!” I barked. Three more officers were advancing and my clip emptied. I castoff my handgun, snatching for Arstid’s. A female officer hurdled in front of the open doors. A gun unlike any I had seen before swung up in her hands. Arstid lunged across the elevator, shoving me hard as the officer fired. With one squeeze, the gun shot off eight rapid rounds and the doors slammed shut. Arstid’s push had slammed my head into the wall, the mechanical screech deafening as my ear collided with the elevator panel. I yanked the com from my ear, watching it spark as I threw it to the floor. Useless. It bounced, then landed in a pool of blood.

  “Arstid?” I stammered as I crashed to my knees beside her. My hands flew over the bullet holes. The officer’s gun had been armor-piercing, seven rounds penetrating the suit.

  Arstid frantically began fishing in her pockets and pulled out a vial of healing serum. I stared. It was green. Not the good stuff, not the perfected serum Doc had lost in the fire, but it was still better than nothing. She tried to pull the stopper, but it slipped in her trembling hands. How had she gotten it? Our supplies were so low a vial like this was a rare find. I had thought only our medics had them.

  “Where did you get this?” I eyed the green liquid.

  When Arstid didn’t answer, I snatched the vial. She had been so terrible, showing me little other than hate and disdain since the day I came into her life. I could take the vail, kept it for myself and she knew it. I thought about it, for one instant I considered keeping it. But as her breathing hitched, I pulled off the top and poured it over her chest. Arstid hissed in pain, her back arching. The skin sizzled, trying to stitch itself shut, but it wasn’t enough. Three wounds had scabbed over, but the other four were still bleeding. I groped in her pockets searching for more, but Arstid grabbed my arm, stopping me.

  There wouldn’t be any more, there was only the one. Understanding, Arstid’s throat began to work around her words.

  “Tell Triven...” she coughed up a mouthful of blood, spitting before speaking again. “Tell him… I wasn’t always a good mother… but I loved him.” Tears leaked out, sliding into her white hair.

  “He knows.” I took her hand holding it to my chest, comforting her. “He loves you too.”

  Arstid smiled weakly. Then she took a deep inhale and stopped breathing. My hand shook as it slid her eyes closed. I had never liked the woman, but I had respected her in some ways. And Triven loved her.

  The doors slid open with a hiss, making me jump. I had almost forgotten where we were. Who I had been chasing.

  The elevator led to an empty corridor. Moving quickly over Arstid’s body, I took any useful items—a half-empty handgun, two clips and a knife. The elevator next to mine was open, vacant. I was halfway down the corridor before I realized I should have taken her earpiece too. I was cut off from everyone. Alone. But I didn’t need guidance. The white hallway was not long, and there was only one set of doors. They stood slightly ajar at the end of the hall. Light was coming out, beckoning me.

  There were no guards, no children soldiers. Fandrin was unguarded. The arrogant bastard hadn’t expected anyone to make it this far. He hadn’t thought we could hack his elevators.

  I hesitated outside the door, listening for sounds of movement. Red spots dotted the marble floor. Blood. Arden’s or Fandrin’s? I could barely make out the room beyond, but already knew its layout. I had seen it before, large windows, clear furniture and monitors. Lots of monitors… Holstering Arstid’s gun while keeping her knife in the other, I straightened from my half-crouch and pushed the door open with one hand. It swung wide without resistance.

  Standing behind his translucent desk, framed by windows filled with fire and smoke, was Fandrin. He smiled coolly around Arden, knife still held to his throat.

  “Welcome home.”

  His eyes flickered the to the monitors on the wall. Half of them had gone black, but there was one showing the hallway—showing me. I was right. He had been expecting me. I glanced at the monitors again. No screen showed the inside of this office. A quick sweep of the room confirmed it—there weren’t any cameras in here. Once I stepped inside, Zeek’s watchful eyes would not be able to follow.

  “Let him go.” I took a step inside, the door closing behind me. Fandrin’s hand tightened and the knife dug into Arden’s throat. I snarled. “It’s over old man. Your soldiers are dying. Gage is dead. And we have control of your elevators. No one is coming to save you. This city is ours.”

  His expression twisted at the mention of Gage, but he brushed it off. “Casualties of war.”

  Arden stared at me pointedly, the scars on his face whiter than usual. His hands were held up at his chest in submission. I kept my eyes on Fandrin, but was focused on Arden. His fingers were twitching, counting down from five.

  “Did you think you could just walk in here and take everything from me?”

  Arden’s fingers curled.

  Four... Three...

  “That this little war of yours could stop me? These people love me. They will always love me—”

  Two… Arden’s thumb twitched last and I flung out my arm.

  The knife flew high, launching a good three feet above the men’s heads and to their left. Exactly as I had planned. Fandrin’s head tipped backward, following the projectile and the slight movement caused him to lean out. I let a second blade fly. Arden ducked sideways as the second knife drove into The Minister’s shoulder. Fandrin roared in pain, easing his hold on Arden, who was quick to react, shoving against the restraining arm and he grabbed the knife. Twisting, he broke free of his captor’s grip and ran to stand behind me, panting.

  Fandrin bellowed, yanking the small throwing knife from his shoulder. He slammed a shaky hand down over the bleeding gash. I moved forward, Arstid’s handgun re-drawn.

  I growled at Arden, “Com the team. Tell them The Minister has been...”

  What? Taken? Killed?

  The latter sounded better.

  My gun leveled at the Fandrin’s chest, the tip wavering. Ryker wanted him alive—the rebels wanted to pass their judgment—but the rebels weren’t here now. As if by its own accord, the barrel steadied. With a feather-light touch, I squeezed the trigger and a tiny red dot flickered to life, illuminating th
e furrow between his greying eyebrows. One twitch and he would be gone. One bullet and I would be the last in our line left standing.

  Pull the trigger. I goaded myself. Pull it!

  My finger remained frozen.

  The Minister leaned over the top of his self-proclaimed throne. His bloody hand smeared the clear backrest.

  “Do it.” The wrinkled face unexpectedly distorted with rage as Fandrin clutched the back of his translucent chair throwing it aside. Flecks of split spattered the desk as he screamed, glaring at me. “DO IT!”

  The veins in his neck pulsed angrily as his chest heaved. Not a single muscle in my body had moved, until now. Carefully, deliberately, I took two steps forward and squared my stance to fire.

  It was then, as I shifted, that I realized he wasn’t looking at me. He had never been looking to me.

  Perverted triumph flashed in my grandfather’s expression and I looked down.

  Arden’s arms wrapped around me as he plunged his knife into my stomach.

  44. DEATH

  T HE BLADE CUT through my suit with ease. The Sanctuary grade weapon was designed to slice through anything.

  Fandrin smiled. “Were you really so stupid to think I wouldn’t have any protection?”

  I stared at the handle protruding from my abdomen. The arms holding me let go and I twisted away to face my attacker.

  “You?” I could hear the hurt in my own voice, the betrayal. Clutching the knife’s hilt with trembling hands, I stumbled away from Arden, backing up until I hit something solid. The Minister’s desk rattled as I collided with it.

  Arden said nothing. He just stared at me and at his own hands as if surprised by what they’d done.

  “Since when?” I snarled. It was getting harder to stand. My entire body was collapsing. The pain from my stomach was pulling the rest of me into it. A black hole of agony.

  Arden stammered.

  “WHEN?!” I screamed, doubling over.

  “Since the night we took you in!” Arden’s face contorted as he screamed back. He frothed at the mouth, then wiped it away. “While Triven was saving you, he neglected the rest of us. There was another pack of Ravagers hunting that night. And they found me.” He shuddered. “They offered me a choice and I took it. I did what I needed to survive.”

  I gaped at the stranger standing before me, my blood painting his hands. No—not just mine—so many people’s blood on his hands. It was never Veyron. Never Arstid or Maddox. I had been wrong. This entire time, I had been wrong. “You were the traitor… All of it? The Ravagers attacks? The fires? The beacon? The attacks?!”

  Hot tears burned down my cheeks.

  Arden’s chin rose in defiance. “You should understand better than anyone, Phoenix. Sometimes a few must be sacrificed for your own survival. It was me or them. I chose me.”

  It sounded like he was pleading with me to understand. To absolve him.

  “And what did you get out of it? What was killing your friends worth?” I sneered, trying to stay vertical. The room was starting to tip.

  Arden at least had the grace to look ashamed. He glanced behind me to my grandfather. Then back. The tip of his tongue wet his lips anxiously as he stared at the knife. There was so much blood. My hands were slick with it. Finally, he answered. “Freedom. For loyalty, Fandrin offered me freedom.”

  I roared, screaming until I couldn’t breathe.

  Fandrin had seemed amused, watching our exchange. “And so I did, young man. Congratulations son, you’ve earned it. You’re free.”

  The gunshot reverberated painfully around the room. I flinched as Arden’s body crashed to the floor, gore spewing from the hole in his neck. The bullet had pierced straight through. A clean shot. Arden’s hands clawed uselessly at his throat. His eyes were wide with fear. He thrust up a bloody hand, reaching for me, pleading for help.

  Holding the desk for support, I turned away.

  Fandrin was inspecting his gun, counting the bullets. He didn’t give the dying boy on the floor a second thought. With a flick of his wrist the old man snapped the chamber closed and pointed the barrel at my forehead. One faded blue eye shut as he checked the sight.

  “One bullet left.” Fandrin leaned a little closer, waving the gun, taunting me.

  I took the bait.

  Screaming through the pain tearing into my lower abdomen, I lunged, reaching desperately for the handgun. Despite my best efforts, the Fandrin easily stepped back and pulled the weapon aside, away from my outstretched hand. I managed to catch the front of his lapel, smearing a bloody handprint down his white coat before collapsing sideways against the desk. I groaned as I slid slowly off the glassy surface down to the floor, a bloody streak trailing out behind me. The futile attempt had taken my last bit of strength. Everything was giving out and shutting down.

  I crumpled into a heap at the foot of Fandrin’s desk. Barely managing to roll onto my back, I stared up at the man, holding my stomach. At least he would have to see my face when I died. The face that looked so much like my mother’s.

  Fandrin watched me. A cat considering his prey. He pointed the gun at me again, though his aim lacked any real conviction. Even after everything, after I turned his world against him, he still couldn’t shoot me.

  “Coward.” I wheezed.

  “Why waste the bullet? You’re not worth it.” Walking out of sight, he grunted. There was a thump followed by a dragging noise. The legs of his throne grazed the edge of my vision. Purposefully, he perched in his chair. It was the perfect place to watch both the door and his only granddaughter die.

  “I’m sure your friends will be here soon to rescue you. Who do you think it will be first? Lover boy perhaps? Or our solider friend? Or maybe the child?”

  I couldn’t see him from this vantage point, but I knew where his weapon would be pointed and someone was coming. Their footsteps were hammering down the hall.

  Tears began to stream down my cheeks as my jaw locked in pain. The only sound of warning I could give was a guttural cry. I twisted my head toward the corridor.

  The hinges swung wide and Archer burst through the open door. Fandrin’s trigger finger was fast, but Archer’s was faster. Her shot clipped The Minister’s hand causing his to go wide, shattering the door frame. Fandrin pulled the trigger again and it clicked.

  Empty.

  There was an uneven gait and Ryker appeared, blood covering his uniform, but he seemed unharmed. One quick glance of the room and he was charging inside. To me.

  “On him!” Ryker managed to order, pointing at Fandrin as he ran. Archer moved quickly. Concern warped her expression, but her attention never left the man behind the desk.

  Every inch of my body had begun to convulse, a slow twitch at first, but now a steady tremor.

  The ground shook as Ryker’s metal knee hit the floor. I tried to force words from my mouth, but the tremors were so bad I was more likely to bite off my own tongue than utter a word.

  I knew what was happening to me. My body was in shock. Cold crept into my fingers and toes. I had lost too much blood. The pain that had been excruciating at first, was dulling. This was a bad sign. But it wasn’t until I saw Ryker’s face, that I knew the truth.

  I was dying at the feet of my monstrous grandfather. Literally cut down by a hand I had trusted.

  In a moment of panic, Ryker grabbed for the knife, ready to pull it out. I sputtered, drawing it further into my body.

  “Nnnn-nnnn…” I couldn’t get the word out, but he immediately stopped tugging. Archer glanced down, her rifle still on Fandrin.

  “Shit.” Her breathing hitched. “Okay… don’t pull it or she’ll bleed out.” There was a movement of fabric beyond my vision. “Don’t freaking move!” Archer’s hand shook as she looked back at The Minister. Her face towered above Ryker’s shoulder, gaze darting around—from me to Arden and back to Fandrin again. She was trying to put it together. It didn’t matter, not really. The traitor was dead. But I knew that look in Archer’s eyes. She needed answers.<
br />
  “Tttttt—rrrrr—aaaaaaiii—ttttt—.” Even I couldn’t understand myself. I gave up on words and let my head roll sideways toward Arden. Then slowly, I floated one hand over the bloody knife, trying to show them.

  Message received.

  Archer hissed at the same time Ryker’s lips twisted into a snarl.

  “It wasn’t Veyron?” Archer said in disbelief.

  My head lolled side to side. Regret creased her features. We had hated the wrong person. What was worse, we had trusted the wrong person.

  A cold chortle came from behind the desk. “He was so eager to please too, stupid bo—”

  Crack!

  Archer’s rifle flipped backward as she slammed the butt of her gun into The Minister’s face. The man sputtered, spitting blood. She had broken his nose, maybe even knocked out a few teeth.

  “Next time it’s a bullet in your crotch.” Archer growled. The tip of her gun dropped, aiming lower. “The rebels want you alive, they didn’t say shit about being whole.”

  Fandrin settled, but something was off. Almost as if he wanted her to shoot him.

  Ryker’s fingers brushed over my arms, my neck, distracting me as they searched for something. Probably a pulse. There was so much blood on his hands. As if he had dipped them in paint. Was it all mine? The copper sent toxified every breath. I focused all my energy on making words.

  “Ttt—tell, t—them I—I lllov—”

  “No. Don’t you dare say it.” Ryker pressed his hands over mine with a fierce look. “Keep your hands here. Keep pressure. Don’t. Die. Got it!?”

  He took one of my convulsions for a nod.

  “Get Doc.” He said quietly.

  Archer shifted next him, unsure if he was speaking to her. He said it louder and this time she was clearly torn between taking her gun off Fandrin and running for help.

  “GET DOC!” Ryker screamed this time. Snatching something from the ground, he thrust it sideways and pointed at what I could only assume was Fandrin. A shimmer of tears was gathering in his blue eyes, but he held them back. “GO!”