The Barriers

by Katie French

  My arms tighten around her. “She’s not some test subject.”

  Dennis laughs dryly. “That’s exactly what she is.”

  I flash him a ruthless glance, but Corra holds out a hand. “Without our medical interventions, she won’t live very long.”

  Corra watches my face. No doubt, she’s seeing how much I care about Peanut. She knows she can lure me in.

  She tries again. “You can help her. She’ll need a mother figure. Someone to bond with. Who knows? Maybe with a human mother, she’ll be less vicious than Seven and Eight were.” Corra reaches back and puts her hand on my knee. “Riley, maybe you were the piece of the puzzle we were missing.”

  I push her hand away. “Take me to my aunt.”

  Dennis snorts, but Corra flashes him a nasty look. “The compound is on fire. Anyone alive when we left isn’t now. That shantytown madman has taken it over.”

  “I don’t leave my people behind. Drive me to the compound and help me get Auntie out. Then I might help you.” Hardening my expression, I stare both of them down. Auntie can’t be dead. Nothing can kill that woman.

  Corra throws up her hands. “Fine.”

  “What?” Dennis says, lurching up in his seat. “This is bullshit, Corra, and you know it.”

  She whirls on him, teeth flashing. “What was bullshit, Dennis, was you leaving those people behind in the first place. If I had been conscious, I never would’ve let you take me out of there without fighting. Conroy, Harvey, Winklemen. They were our friends,” she hisses. “You left them to die.”

  Dennis angrily stares out the windshield. “Easy for you to say,” he mumbles. “You didn’t see what we were up against.”

  Corra snaps her mask back on and flexes her hands on the steering wheel. “I guess I will now.”

  ***

  The ride up to the compound is dead silent. The moonlit gravel road leading around and down to the underground compound is as still as a picture. I hate the stillness. The quiet makes me think of all the people I’ve watched die, of Mama and Arn and Ethan and Clay and Auntie. Of Nada and Rayburn. Stillness like this lulls you into thinking everything’s all right. You wouldn’t know a small army marched down this road, intending to kill. You wouldn’t know it, looking up at the almost full moon and the quiet clouds skimming across the yellow surface, that many died tonight.

  How many? We’re about to find out.

  Corra drives until we find the smaller gravel path down to the entrance of the compound. Here, you can see the smoke still spilling into the night sky from whatever burns underground. Even with the windows up, the smell of smoke fills our car. It makes me think of my near-death in the basement only a few hours ago. I wonder how Doc is doing.

  The car rolls to a stop. “We’re on foot from here,” Corra says through her mask. “Driving up would attract attention.”

  “It would also shield us from bullets,” I say.

  Dennis pulls out a gun, unsnaps the cartridge, checks it, and snaps it back in. “They only have a few guns, mostly clubs and rusty hatches. Still, we were unprepared. They took us by surprise. They beat us because we were disorganized.”

  Corra, her own handgun out, nods down at the figure beneath my shirt. “Subject Nine will have to stay in the car.”

  “Good luck with that.” But I try to pry her away. She comes awake, grabbing onto the binding around my chest and holding on for dear life. “Peanut, let go. It isn’t safe.” When I lift the collar of my shirt and peer down, she looks at me with that frightened expression.

  “She won’t budge,” I say.

  “We’ll just have to cover you.” She flicks a look at Dennis, who grinds his jaw, annoyed.

  “We have no idea what to expect in there,” she says. “Probably a few dozen men. Mike’s the best fighter. He throws knives with amazing accuracy. Fire from as far away as you can. Without guns, they can’t get you unless you’re within swinging distance.”

  “Let me get my hands on these bastards.” Dennis’s nostrils flare. I bet he wasn’t this fearless when he was running away.

  Corra nods at the shape on my belly. “Stay behind us, Riley. And whatever you do, don’t let anything happen to Nine.”

  “Let’s be clear. I’m going in for my aunt. She’s my first priority.”

  Corra nods. “Let’s go.”

  We slip out of the car and slink down the gravel driveway, Corra and Dennis are in front, with me behind. My eyes dart all around the moonlit landscape. The land rises up on either side of us as we descend down the driveway that angles steeper the closer we get to the entrance. We can’t see the compound entrance yet, but soon, the path will turn, and we’ll be in full view of whoever awaits at the entrance. The scrub hills on either side of us will offer no protection. All we can hope is that, with their battle won, the remaining ambushers will have retreated inside the compound to loot it. They’ll have no idea we’ve come back.

  Corra and Dennis shuffle to a stop, and I crouch behind. Ahead, a body lies strewn across the path. I clutch Peanut as Dennis walks up and flips the guy over with his toe. The corpse is a mess—a bullet-riddled face and chest with his right cheek and the top half of his skull is missing. I turn my eyes to the dirt. Ahead of me, Corra sucks in a breath. “Not one of ours.”

  This gives me no comfort. Auntie. That’s the only thing I care about.

  You care about Peanut, says a small voice in my head. But I can’t afford to care about Peanut. She isn’t mine to keep.

  We hike another twenty yards until Dennis signals a halt with his raised fist. While Corra and I wait, he slips ahead and returns a minute later with that trigger-happy look on his face.

  “They’ve posted two guards.” He pulls out his gun’s clip again, checks it, and reloads. When he flips the safety off with a decisive click, his wild eyes lock on Corra. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Corra grabs Dennis muscular forearm. “If we shoot, we alert everyone in that compound. Isn’t there a way we can sneak in, or—” She stops as Dennis turns and runs around the hill. He disappears.

  “Dennis!” Corra whisper-yells. “Shit!” She looks at me. “Stay here.” She sprints around the hill’s protective curve.

  They left me. Should I stay or—?

  The first gunshots ring out, echoing up the driveway. Someone screams. Beneath my shirt, Peanut shakes. I hug her, my heart slamming against my sternum. What do I do? Do I run in and help? Peanut could be shot. But if we stay here and Corra and Dennis are killed, it’ll only be a few minutes before someone comes looking for us.

  “What do I do?” I whisper, creeping closer to where the hill curves. From here, all I can see is the opposite side of the hill. I want to get a look at what’s happening, but if I go out much farther, I’ll risk being seen.

  A figure runs at me. I whip my gun up, but see Corra holding out her hand. Panting, she says, “It’s clear.”

  Jogging around the corner, we see Dennis picking the pockets of one of the two dead guards on the ground outside the entrance. My eyes scan the pool of blood slowly running down the concrete steps. Another man is splayed out near the two heavy doors. The faded black and yellow eagle symbol painted on the doors is splattered in blood.

  Corra grabs my arm. “Riley, stay behind us.”

  On the wall beside the doors, Dennis punches numbers into a faintly glowing pad.

  Corra watches, breathing heavy. “Hopefully, they haven’t had time to change the code. At least the backup generator’s running.”

  The panel beeps, and the doors draw back. Corra stiffens, pulling her handgun up to her chest. My eyes are locked on the widening crack of darkness. Inside, it’s pitch black, but my eye catches movement just in time to see a blade slice through the air. It whizzes by inches from my face.

  I cry out, lurching to the side. Corra and Dennis open fire. Stumbling, I aim into the dark and fire.

  Gunshots fill the air. In the dark, orange sparks of ignited gunpowder light the night. Bullets whiz and ping off metal inside.
I squeeze off four rounds, panting, shaking, and then stop, peering inside, trying to see my attackers.

  The silence is punctuated only by my labored breathing. Somehow, Corra and I have found cover behind the entrance’s outer wall. Dennis is on the other side, his back to the wall, his gun to his heaving chest.

  What now? Peanut must be terrified. If I could get her to at least slip around and cling on my back—

  “Move. Move!” Corra yanks my arm.

  I run, glancing around to see what she’s seeing. Something clanks and rolls out onto the concrete pad.

  A pipe.

  A pipe bomb.

  We run into the building, zigzagging, staying low. Something clangs across the wide, dark space to our right, and Corra pulls me left. We run, heads down, deeper into the compound.

  “What about Dennis?” I say, trying to keep up with her.

  She tugs my arm and leads me down a dark, smoking corridor.

  Behind us, a terrible explosion shakes the ground beneath our feet. “Jesus!” I yell, following Corra. Every corridor looks the same—concrete walls splashed red by the emergency lights, rubble from the cracks running up the walls and arching along the ceiling. I don’t know where she’s going. I don’t know where I am. One of my hands is in her tight fist. The other holds Peanut to my belly. “Corra, slow down!”

  “No time!” she shouts, pulling me. After a few minutes, she skids to a stop in front of a door and another panel of dimly lit numbers. She starts punching them. “In here.”

  The panel beeps and a lock clicks open inside. As the doors slide open, Corra shoves me in.

  The dormitory, with its rows and rows of metal bunks, looks unaffected by the blast other than the lingering smoke. My eyes run down rows of beds, searching for my aunt, but finding all empty. I jog right and scan those bunks. Then left.

  “Corra, she’s not here. Auntie Bell isn’t here!”

  “No, lass, she’s not.”

  I whip toward the voice, all the hairs on my neck standing up. At the end of the row, a figure clad in faded military fatigues stands with a gun aimed at my chest.

  Bran.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Clay

  “Did you just say”—I look at Betsy, my brain turnin’ over slow like a clogged piston—“Riley?”

  In the moonlight, the sheen of sweat on Betsy’s forehead and upper lip glistens. Her wig curls hang damp like cooked noodles. As I’m watchin’, more of her face crumbles until she’s a blubberin’ mess, sobbin’ into her hands.

  Riley. I turn and look at the red glow of taillights disappearing down the dark road. Cole has stopped runnin’ after the car and stands on the shoulder. I should go after him, but my head’s throbbin’. I put both hands on my temples and try to think. Riley. The images I keep seeing. I was never sure she was real, but now…

  More pain throbs behind my eyes, nearly bringin’ me to my knees. It’s as if rememberin’ her is rippin’ my brain apart.

  A hand on my arm. I yank away. Betsy stands beside me, her wet face peerin’ into mine. “See. Riley does nothing but hurt you.”

  “Tell me about Riley.”

  Her faces pinches like she’s bitten into something rotten. “No.”

  The pain is a throbbing wave in my cranium, and I ain’t got patience. I grip her arm harder than I mean to. “Tell me,” I say through my teeth.

  “Oww,” she whines. “You’re hurting me.”

  I drop her arm and turn away. Cole walks toward me, his shoulders slumped. “I’ll tell you about Riley. You loved her. She loves you. And she’s my sister. We have to go save her!” He tugs on my sleeve.

  “Wait.” I press my palms to my eye sockets. “I love her? But she’s your sister? You’re my brother. How can that…?”

  Images rip across my mind like lightning. Cole dead in my arms, his face blue, his lips purple and flecked with old blood. Me stumbling down the road as I carry him, in so much pain I can barely breathe, but walkin’ just the same. Sobbin’ and callin’ his name.

  “No,” I whisper, reachin’ for Cole. He’s here. I grip his shoulder, and he smiles sadly at me. Except… his face. It isn’t right. “Cole?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m Ethan.”

  I bury my head in my hands, hot tears smearing against my palms. “Where is Cole?” My voice is frantic. I need to get ahold of myself, but how can I when I can’t even pin down what’s real and what ain’t?

  Another hand on my arm. When I look down, it’s Cole… Ethan.

  “You’re Ethan,” I whisper.

  He nods.

  “Cole’s dead.”

  He looks at the ground.

  “Oh God.” It feels like a dull knife in my chest. “He’s dead. He died because of me.” I put my face in my hands and hang my head. It’s like I’ve just witnessed his death all over again. My heart constricts, tightenin’, tightenin’.

  “Miss Nessa did this to you,” I hear Ethan say near my ear.

  I look up. Ethan and Betsy are standing a few feet apart, watchin’ me. What would they do if I rolled over and died right here? “Tell me more about Nessa,” I say to Ethan.

  “She cut open your brain and fiddled with it. She did it to Betsy, too.” He looks over, and his face softens as he takes her in. “Nessa hated Riley. She wanted you all to herself. She made me pretend to be Cole so you’d go back to memories from the past and forget about Riley.”

  I stand and suck in several deep breaths. “Where is Nessa now?”

  Ethan shakes his head and looks at Betsy. “We don’t know. You shot her. We hope she’s dead, but—”

  “But evil people have a way of not stayin’ dead,” I say.

  “But Riley’s alive,” Betsy answers flatly. “She just got pulled into that car.”

  Ethan nods. “It was two people. One had a bug head. The other had a buzz haircut and a gun.”

  I peer down the two-lane highway, now deserted except for the moonlight and stars. “And you saw where they went?”

  His head bobs up and down so fast it’s hard to keep track with my headache.

  “Okay,” I say, straightenin’ my shirt. “Lead the way.”

  We hike it as fast as we can, sticking to the road’s shoulder. Here, there’s little to hide behind even if we wanted to. The land stretches out like a vast, sandy sea, pocked with gnarly bushes and ornery plants that refuse to die. The road narrows.

  Beside me, Cole—no, Ethan—walks with his eyes on the horizon and his mouth shut. Some kids don’t know when to shut up, but not Ethan. He could be a gunslinger for all the steel in his eyes.

  Lookin’ at him brings another lump to my throat, but I swallow it down. I let the fire of hatred ignite in my belly. Nessa. She did this to me. She’s the one I should train my guns on.

  And what about Riley? If we find her, what will I feel? Love? Confusion? What if I don’t remember? What if I can’t find the feelings I had? What if they’re lost forever?

  “Can we stop?” Betsy whines.

  “Shut up, Betsy,” Ethan says. “You’re lucky we didn’t leave your dumb butt behind after you tried to kill me.”

  “I didn’t try to kill you. Hank did.”

  Ethan whirls around and glares at her. “You were gonna let him!”

  “Quiet.” I hold out a hand to tell them to be still. Standing still, I listen to see if I heard what I think I did.

  A bang rumbles through the desert. A gunshot.

  “Someone’s shootin’,” I whisper.

  Ethan goes rigid. “Riley.”

  I put a hand on his chest to keep him from flyin’ off again. “Stay behind me.” I draw out the gun I took from Hank’s driver. The pistol ain’t much to sniff at—a forty-five-caliber semiautomatic with scratches on its nose. Whoever owned this didn’t know shit about takin’ care of a gun. I hope it’ll still fire. My shoulder throbs from being out of the socket, but when I lift the gun, the muscle memory of it soothes me.

  “Let’s go.”

  We find a d
ead body in the road and footprints up and down in the sandy shoulder. A lot of shit went down here. Hopefully, no one’s still standin’ who wants to take my head off.

  “Stay here,” I whisper to Ethan and Betsy.

  Ethan throws his hands down. “But, Clay—”

  “Not another word. Too dangerous.”

  They throw me disapprovin’ looks, but I ignore them. I give Ethan one last look and then slink down the gravel road.

  From this far back, the hill’s swell hides the entrance from view. I did everything I could to get the hell out of the underground facility, and I’m runnin’ right back in.

  Focus on the task. Don’t get killed. Kill those who’d stop you.

  I slip around and peer out into the open.

  The entrance comes into view, doors wide open. Two more dead bodies decorate the steps. Scorched earth and blast marks darken the indestructible doors. The bodies are crispy lumps, still smokin’. The smell of charred chemicals drifts on the air.

  I creep up, gun ready. Nothin’ moves outside. The inside is too dark to see, so I ready myself and slip inside.

  I stand in a dark corner and survey my surroundings.

  The air is heavy with smoke. Thick concrete walls and floors are splashed red from dim emergency lights. The alarm I heard when I climbed out of the pipe has stopped, so either someone shut it off, or the backup power generator is dying. If that goes, I’ll be in total darkness and shit outta luck.

  I listen, but I only hear the occasional rumble of rock somewhere deep inside. I close my eyes and listen deeper. Past the rumbles and groans of the structure. Past the thud of my heart in my ears.

  Then I hear it.

  Somewhere, someone is breathin’.

  Openin’ my eyes, I scan the room. Across the dark room is an even darker shadow. The shadow of a man with his back to one of the large square pillars that holds up the ceiling about twenty feet away.

  I watch for several more breaths, waitin’ for the shadow to shift, and it does. I don’t think he’s seen me.

  As quiet as I can, I reach down, find a piece of rock, and toss it across the entryway. It skitters down the hallway just to the right of his pillar. When he hears the clatter, his head pops out from behind the pillar. It’s the man I saw grab Riley and drag her into the solar car. Is Riley with him? If not, where is she?