by Rachel West
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For fighting. I know it was hard for you. The past couple months, I’ve seen you struggling. So thank you. Thank you for staying when it would be so easy for you to leave.”
“It would not be easy,” Jaxon replies softly.
“They would forgive you.”
“I know,” Jaxon says, “But I don’t imagine I could ever forgive myself.” Then he grabs my hand in his, squeezing like I am the only thing anchoring him here. Like I am the reason he stays.
***
Despite the tepid response to Jaxon’s speech, the next couple hours are spent in discussions with others who live in the Hollows. It seems like suddenly everyone knows where to find us. Shortly after Red returns they come knocking on the door, like suitors searching for their princess.
The first crowd is a group of angry looking men who behind blustering rage spill the secrets of lost wives and daughters and sons. Jaxon sits quietly, listening to the story of every one of them then promises a future where families will no longer be torn apart.
As they leave, another dances in behind them; a man dressed in shredded black rags and a wrap around his face that covers all except his eyes.
The man clears his throat, a rough, scratchy sound like a growling dog. At first I think he is another of those just looking for a fight, but one good look tells me otherwise. His eyes are sharp and inquisitive. The man greets all three of us, unlike the others whom acted like I was invisible.
“My name is Ezzor.”
Jaxon stands up and stretches out a hand. “A pleasure.”
When Ezzor moves to return the gesture his sleeve rises for half a heartbeat and I see scarred flesh - skin so deeply wounded it looks like someone poured acid on it. With a practiced twist of his fingers, Ezzor tugs the cloth back down, covering the sight.
Ezzor is direct, straight to the point. “What is your plan?”
Jaxon looks to me through the corners of his eyes. I shake my head lightly. We can’t afford to tell strangers our plans. We can’t afford to trust anyone. Not yet, not until they can prove themselves.
“Good,” Ezzor says. “You don’t trust anyone. That’s a good start. Spies everywhere. Thought you were fools at first. Way you announced yourself to everyone. But no. It was calculated. Smart. Now everyone knows you’re here, no one can turn on you. Everyone hates a rat.”
I try not to show my confusion at Ezzor’s words. Calculated? Rats? But the more I think about, the more I realize he’s right. If Jaxon had kept hidden and someone discovered him, it would be easy for someone to squeal on him. No one would ever know who sold us out. But now that everyone knows? The one thing the Hollows won’t stand for is a rat. A smile pulls at the corners of my lips, for once we made the right move, even if unknowingly.
Jaxon smiles confidently like this was his plan all along. Ezzor backs out of the room, with a promise to stand behind us as long as we don’t go “making fools of ourselves.”
The next person who enters is a surprise.
“Told you I’d find ya,” Kalia grins at me.
“Hi,” I respond uncertainly.
Trailing behind her is Ki, the little boy we met our first day here. Understanding immediately flashes through my mind. Ki and Kalia. Brother and sister. I knew Kalia had seemed familiar. I don’t understand how I missed it. Despite their age difference, what has to be at least seven years, they look exactly alike. Kalia’s wild dark hair is a little curlier and Ki’s dark brown eyes are slightly wider – but the resemblance is impossible to miss.
“I knew you were a suspicious fella,” Ki says. He leans forward to get a closer look at Jaxon. With one small hand he reaches out as if to brush his fingers against Jaxon’s tattoos.
“Ki, don’t be rude,” Kalia slaps him lightly on the back of the hand.
Jaxon says nothing but relief flashes through his eyes so quickly I nearly miss it. I can’t imagine what it must feel like, to stand here with his otherness branded so clearly across his face.
“So,” Kalia draws the word out playfully, “You’re what..? Gonna take down the Millennials?”
Red, Jaxon and I all look at each other uncomfortably. To hear it so bluntly from somebody else -- it makes all of our ideas and late night whisperings sound suddenly real. Jaxon gives a miniscule shrug in my direction, leaving the response up to me.
“Yeah...I guess.”
“Cool,” she throws herself onto Jaxon’s bed. “What’s the game plan?” I feel a glimmer of possessiveness, seeing her sit at the foot of Jaxon’s bed in the position that is usually reserved for me. Part of me wants Jaxon to say something, to tell her to move, but he doesn’t. He hardly seems to notice her there.
I sigh and cross my arms unhappily. “We’re still working out our plans,” I say evasively. Partly because to accomplish our true goal -- taking down the Millennials’ ability to live for a thousand years -- we need to keep things secret -- and partly because beyond that we don’t have much of a plan.
“So you decided to announce your intentions to take down the strongest power in the world with absolutely no idea how you are going to do it?” Kalia grins.
Jaxon shrugs because there really is no right answer to her question.
“Huh, I guess that’s one way to go about things.” Her eyebrows raise so high it’s almost comical
“Kill the Praetors!” Ki yells excitedly from the floor.
Laughter echoes from behind Ki. I glance up to see Vertigo towering in the doorway. His presence fills the room like a dark miasma, overtaking the area with the scent of stale cigar and controlled power until I feel as if I’m choking on it. Past the doorway two guards stand with hands resting on the blades at their waists, eyes watchful and untrusting.
“Kill the Praetors indeed,” Vertigo says in rich, deep tones. “Kalia. Ki. Out. I need a moment with our little rebel band.”
Ki jumps to his feet and rushes out with an embellished wave goodbye. As he passes by Vertigo, the boss of the Hollows ruffles his curls in a familiar motion. Kalia takes her time leaving. Her relaxed posture goes stiff and she looks back at me with a long, unreadable gaze.
Does she distrust Vertigo? Is she trying to tell me something?
“I see that you’ve chosen to escalate things quickly,” Vertigo pushes into the room. Everyone hops to their feet, as if greeting a king, and Vertigo smiles with satisfaction. “Please, keep your seats,” he ushers us down magnanimously.
Red and I drop back down. Jaxon continues to stand.
“I don’t recall offering you a base to stage your little revolution from,” Vertigo begins.
“I do not recall asking your permission,” Jaxon retorts back. I cringe at the look that passes over Vertigo’s face. He is a man used to being the one in control. Jaxon challenging his authority -- it’s not going to end well.
Vertigo leans forward on his cane, both hands clasped around the handle as he stares at Jaxon. “You think you can lead this people? Convince them to follow a Millennial,” Vertigo spits the last word like a curse.
“I was raised by the man who united the entire world. I believe I know a thing or two about how to lead men.”
“Lead?” Vertigo reacts with a cruel smile, “You know nothing of leadership. Better a shepherd than a king, leading your flock of sheep that know nothing but to follow. A true leader can unite even those who don’t want to take the yoke.”
“These people want to be free of the Praetors.”
“My people are free of the Praetors.”
“But are they free?” Jaxon asks and in his eyes is nothing but accusation.
“I have made things better for them.” Vertigo bristles under Jaxon’s look.
“Better? Yes, perhaps. A quiet death rather than the executioner’s noose. In the end though, you are dead either way.”
“What do you offer that is any different?”
“The chance to fight back. The chance to take control and change their own lives.”
Vertigo moves his
heavy bulk across the room until he stands directly in front of Jaxon. They are a study in opposites. Jaxon, with his lean, willowy strength. His steady, cool gaze like nothing in the world could ever faze him. Then Vertigo, taller, bulkier, with the strength in his arms beginning to go soft with age. There is no calmness in Vertigo’s eyes; no, his eyes are those of a snake, always searching for weakness, waiting to strike.
A silent battle passes between them. A wordless war.
Eventually, Vertigo steps back, saying “Do as you wish,” in a way that shows he has every expectation we will fail. He pauses at the door for his final words. “Know that I will remember all of those you lead to death. I will hold their names in my pocket and someday you will pay for every last one of them.”
***
Red makes his exit immediately after the final visitor, an elderly woman by the name of Tanis, departs.
“Finally,” Jaxon throws himself onto his bed. He lifts and stretches each leg, groaning softly as he does.
“What just happened?” I ask, numb from the evening.
Jaxon smiles fiercely, “We built an army. Or at least the start of one.”
“Two dozen people? Not much of an army.”
“True,” Jaxon says considering, “But it is a start. They will spread the word to others in the Hollows. More will come. Eventually.”
More? To do anything we’d need hundreds more. Thousands. Between the Millennials and the Praetors… We’d need half the city to make them see us as anything more than an annoyance. And then what? We ask them to die for us -- for Jaxon really. Who is he to demand such things from people he doesn’t even know? Who am I to think I can help him. This is-- what we are doing. I can’t think straight… My chest goes tight like someone has wrapped metal chains around my body. Chills dance across my flesh but I feel warm, hot, like a thousand suns burn their curses into my skin.
Jaxon notices my growing panic. “What’s wrong?”
“Jaxon,” I try to push the words past my fear, “we have no idea what we’re doing. What are we thinking? That we can overturn the whole world with some pretty words and half thought out plans.”
“Wars have started over less.”
“Even if we somehow manage to kill all dohrnii...We’ll never be on an equal playing field. We are out gunned. Outnumbered. What are we going to do?”
“If we do not try to change things, this life,” he waves his hands around him to encompass all of the Hollows, all of the city, “It will never change. Never.” And the arrogance in his words mystifies. His life becomes a little uncomfortable so he decides to upset the balance of the world? Start a war? Only a Millennial would view that as an option.
“What if Vertigo is right? What if all we do is lead these people to their deaths?” I jump to my feet. I need to get out of here -- I need space, I need to breathe. I stumble forward, blindly going for the door.
Jaxon grabs my wrists and tugs me down onto the bed so our eyes are at the same level. “Listen,” he says, “we are not forcing anyone to follow us. All of those people that came to us today - -all of them feel the same. They are tired of their lives. Tired of being afraid.”
“Yeah, but--“
“No,” he raises one hand. “Before I came here -- before I met you -- I had no idea what it was like. Since coming here, I have been afraid every single day. And not just for myself. But for you, and your sister and even Red. Afraid that the Praetors would take you away from me. Send you to one of the work prisons. Or worse…” for a moment his voice chokes off and this time I am the one to offer comfort.
“And the people here live with that fear every day. It’s -- It’s barbaric. Unacceptable. And the people up there,” he points to the ceiling. “My people. They have no understanding of the lives you lead. They look down and see the violence so they send more Praetors. They believe all of you are nothing more than criminals. I used to think the same until you showed me otherwise. I thought you were trash,” he whispers. “How could I have ever thought that?”
“Jaxon…” This is different than when he gave his speech earlier. This isn’t some political maneuvering, trying to draw others to our cause. This is a confession. A purging of the deepest parts of his soul. “I’m so afraid.”
“I know,” he brushes my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Me too.”
“We’re not going to survive this.”
“No,” he says gently, “Probably not.”
Jaxon leans in and rests his hands on my face. With a simple touch the distance between us is lifted. He delicately strokes my skin and it sets my flesh afire. His eyes capture my own and I am unable to move. When his lips meet mine I am lost. It starts as lightest of touches, but the kiss deepens until his lips grind hard against mine and I taste fear and desperation and passion.
I forget the Millennials. I forget the Praetors and the wall they have backed us into. I forget everything except the feel of Jaxon’s tongue against my own, the touch of his fingers on my neck, the brush of his eyelashes on my skin.
For a moment I lose myself and truly know freedom.
CHAPTER 11
“Be careful!” Red barks at Jaxon as the heavy table teeters between them.
“My apologies,” Jaxon mutters under his breath while rolling his eyes.
“Are you sure it’s okay that we just take this room?” I ask for the fifth time tonight. When Jaxon and Red came across an abandoned network of rooms near our own, both their eyes lit up with the same idea.
“We need privacy,” Red says, “I can’t have half the Hollows knocking on my door every time I’m trying to get some shut-eye.”
“But Vertigo…”
“Vertigo does not own all the real-estate in the Hollows,” Jaxon says.
“But he --.”
“Enough Evie. Can you get the door?” I narrow my eyes at Jaxon as I push the door open for them. Some childish part of me is tempted to kick my foot out to trip them up. Ever since he kissed me Jaxon has shut down, nearly as distant as when we first met. Back to his stupid, arrogant, Millennial self that he shows to everyone else but I thought we were past. But when he thinks I’m not looking I catch him watching me. A pained expression on his face.
We’ve all been stressed. No one has been sleeping, not even Annie. But I can’t tell if it’s the stress getting to Jaxon or something I did. I self-consciously think back to two nights ago. The feel of his hands against me. The delicate touch of his tongue against my own. It felt – right. So why does it suddenly feel like he’s ashamed of me.
I shake my head, purging the thoughts from my mind. “I’m gonna go get Annie. Show her where these rooms are so she knows how to find them,” I call out to Jaxon and Red. I’m not sure they hear me as they both bicker over where to place the table. “Ohh-kay, bye then,” I mumble to myself.
The path back to our rooms is short. I frown to myself when I peek into the room I share with Annie and find it empty. Where would she go, the baths or the market? Figuring the market would be more interesting to a fifteen year old I set out in that direction.
I stare hard at the ground as I pass through the hallways – despite the changes to the Hollow’s I still can’t bring myself to meet the eyes of strangers. In the end though, it wouldn’t matter. The people of the Hollow’s shy back from me. Ever since Jaxon’s announcement a few days past they treat us like some exhibit at the zoo. Terrified. Enthralled. Like they don’t know quite what we are. Like they know we will hurt them but they can’t stop from reaching out.
But a few of them react differently. They bow their heads and back away. They worship Jaxon. Treat him like the god his father claims to be. Already they’re seeing in him what I found so long ago. That irresistible energy. That pulse of life that fills him with strength that no other has. But there is a madness in their eyes and it frightens me for what might come.
I arrive at the markets just as the afternoon bell rings. The sound echoes through the cavernous room, dulled only by bouncing off a hundred human
forms. The Hollows have been filling with people. More than I’ve ever seen in my life. Rumors fly through the city. People say a war is being fought when we don’t even have an army. But Jaxon lets their rumors spread, encouraging them, and as a result dozens more pledge themselves each day.
I find Annie quickly in the market. She sits quietly in a dark corner, a dozen beads spread out in front of her that she’s threading on a string. A small crowd stands off to her right, darting glances at my sister then quickly looking away.
“Hey, it’s not safe for you to be here alone. Come on, I have something to show you.” I reach down and grab her hand. A half-dozen beads go flying from her grip, dancing quickly out of sight. An expression of scorn flashes across my sister’s face so quickly that I pull back, surprised to see such darkness in her eyes. But then it’s gone and she says “Yeah?” sounding like she’s actually interested and I convince myself I imagined it.
“Come on,” I lead her back to the rooms. “Red found these rooms. We’re gonna make them our base.”
“Your base?” Annie says deadpan.
“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, realizing how stupid it sounds. “You know what I mean. This way people will stop knocking on our door all the time.”
“That will be nice,” Annie says distantly, like she’s checked out of the conversation.
“Yeah,” I repeat but she doesn’t say anything further so I lead her quietly to the series of rooms. When we get back there is a scribbled sign on the door reading “War Room” with a smiley face tacked on at the end. I don’t recognize the handwriting as either Jaxon’s or Red’s. I trace the smiley face with a fingertip before pushing open the door to find Kalia bouncing on the other side with a handful of markers.
“Hey,” I say hesitantly.
“I’m making signs,” she tells me with a grin. “And flyers. We’re gonna post them all over Haven.”
