Apocalyptic Fears II: Select Bestsellers: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Greg Dragon

  “Move where?” I ask.

  “None of yer damn business,” he says.

  With impressive speed, the men get packed and move out. I ask for water but am denied. They do, however, unbind our feet so we can walk easily. Our hands remain tied in the front. I smile when they don’t bother to retie them behind our backs. In the front allows us lots more room to maneuver in the event that an opportunity arises.

  But no chances for action come up today. Our march feels endless, especially with no water to quench my burning throat. Roc and I are separated—sandwiched in between two guys each—so we aren’t able to talk to each other. When I do risk a question to one of my guards—a simple Can I stop to go to the bathroom?—it’s answered with a rough jab to the abdomen with the end of his rifle.

  Not a good day.

  Twice we hear echoing voices bouncing off the walls from somewhere in the cavern. We stop suddenly and everyone strains to listen for more sounds, trying to discern who it might be or what direction it’s coming from, but all we get is silence, and it’s near impossible to determine where the sound originates from. I wonder if it’s Adele and her friends, somewhere in front of us in the caverns, moving by some twist of fate in the exact same direction. Or it might be Rivet with a new troop, replacing the men who were killed by our captors. Whoever it is, they stay out of our way and we out of theirs.

  I don’t know the Lonely Caverns well, but from studying Roc’s map I know enough to realize we’re sticking to one of the four main tunnels, which intersect at a hub near the middle. We’re essentially using the cavern as a conduit to move to another subchapter.

  At the end of the day’s march, my legs are on fire and my wrists rubbed raw by the constant chafing of the tight ropes that bind them together. My mouth and esophagus are so dry I can’t swallow. My head started pounding halfway through the day, and it’s all I can do to ignore the urge to collapse and curl up into a ball. I’m sure Roc’s day hasn’t been much better than mine.

  Thankfully, they sit us down together while they prepare the evening meal, probably because we’re easier to guard if we’re in one place. Roc looks like hell, his face pale and his eyes barely open, and I wonder if I look any better. One of the guards finally shows mercy and gives us two gulps each of some kind of liquid that tastes like dirt. It’s the best dirt I’ve ever tasted, and I’d drink the whole bottle if they let me.

  Speaking is difficult, but I don’t know whether we’ll get another chance, so I use my recently moistened tongue to lick my chapped lips and attempt a few sentences. “You gonna be all right, Roc?” I say.

  Roc manages a tight smile and says, “It’s nothin’ compared to all the chores you make me do around the palace.”

  I grin. I know Roc will be all right as long as he keeps cracking jokes. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a few for you this evening if you don’t mind?” I say.

  “As long as it involves knocking a guard or two on the head and getting the hell out of here, I’m game.” I’ve never heard Roc say anything that violent before and for some reason I find it really funny. It appears that our little trip away from the Sun Realm is changing him already.

  “If you take six, I’ll take the other six,” I say.

  “How ’bout I take three and you take nine,” Roc counters.

  “Seven and five—that’s my final offer.”

  “Deal,” Roc says.

  We should probably take the time more seriously, try to come up with a real plan, but I think the little bit of joking helps more than anything else would.

  We don’t knock any guards on the head tonight. We’re just too tired. Plus, they keep two watchmen awake at all times, who are charged with guarding us and the camp at the same time.

  Despite not having a pillow or blanket for the second night in a row, I sleep like a dead man, nestling my head in the crook between my forearm and bicep.

  When I awake, the pain in my head is gone. I struggle to a seated position and look around. Roc smirks at me. “How’s your head?” he says.

  “Never felt better,” I say honestly.

  “Mine, too. I think there was some kind of medicine in the drink they gave us last night.”

  “Probably a slow-acting poison that will kill us in a few days.”

  “Probably,” Roc says.

  One of the guards is watching our exchange with interest. He’s a stocky guy with a shiny bald head and graying beard. He says, “My daughter thinks she’s in love with you.”

  Roc says, “Me?”

  I laugh.

  Baldy says, “No, you,”—motioning to me—“the one with the good head of hair and pretty-boy smile. She’s got a poster of you up in her bedroom. Cost me a whole week’s pay. She’ll never forgive me if I don’t get an autograph when I have the chance.”

  I’ve had some strange requests in my life, but this one takes the cake (if we had any cake, that is). The whole world is exploding, we’ve been captured by a gang of misfits, and one of my captors wants an autograph?

  Of course, after he unbinds my hands, I give him one. It’s not like I have a choice. I sign his canteen and he even lets me have a drink from it in exchange. “Thanks. Might be worth somethin’ someday,” he says. Unfortunately he doesn’t repay the favor by leaving my hands untied.

  No one else speaks to us this morning. But they do let us walk together this time. I guess they’re feeling more comfortable that we aren’t going to try anything, probably because they can tell we’re getting weaker from the lack of food and water.

  I hope we can make them pay for that mistake.

  It’s another grueling march, although it’s broken up when we stop for a break upon reaching the hub, a huge cavern that was carved out decades ago. Four gaping tunnels branch off on each side. We sit on manmade stone benches that were erected for travelers. The men seem less serious, joking and laughing as they eat. They give us small chunks of the dried meat we’d bought a couple of days earlier and a swig of water. The food and water, along with whatever medicine they’d given us the previous night, leaves me feeling somewhat refreshed. If we’re going to try something, now is the time.

  When no one’s looking, I silently draw Roc’s attention with a quick flick of one of my fingers. Right away I can see the fear in his eyes. He’s right to be scared: the next few minutes could kill us.

  I wait patiently for the perfect moment to launch the plan I have in my head. Half the men have wandered off and are doing a bit of sightseeing, checking out the multitude of intricate carvings etched by travelers into the rock walls. They’re spread out, which is bad, but no one is covering the entrance to the tunnel we’ve just come through. That’s good, because I’m hoping to go back the way we’ve come anyway. It’ll make them less likely to pursue us.

  Four of the others, including the leader with the deep voice, are engaged in a heated discussion about Tri-Realm politics. That leaves two guys who are sort of paying attention to us, although more and more they’re distracted by their friends—I can see their eyes flicking back and forth between us and them.

  One of them turns his back to add a comment to the conversation.

  Only one guard now.

  His eyes are on me, but it’s a blank stare, like he’s looking without really seeing. I can tell his mind is on the conversation behind him. I rise silently, trusting it will take a few moments for his brain to register what his eyes are seeing. Before he knows what hit him, I…well, I hit him. Club him over the head with my tied-together fists. I hit him hard enough that he won’t be getting up anytime soon. He doesn’t cry out and the others are too distracted to notice.

  There’s a knife hanging from his belt and I manage to extract it by the hilt, the blade naturally gravitating toward my wrist ropes. I caress the blade back and forth, keeping one eye on the group of debaters. I saw through one rope and it falls away. I pull my wrists apart sharply, separating the weakened strands of rope.

  The knife slips from my fingers.

  I’m i
n a time warp, where seconds tick by like hours. I can see every turn of the knife as it flips end over end to the ground, moving in slow motion. It clatters loudly on the stone floor.

  For a second everyone is confused, so I take advantage of the situation, grabbing the guard’s gun—which is conveniently located on the ground between his feet. I point it in the general direction of the cluster of debaters.

  I pull the trigger.

  The automatic spray of bullets fires wildly above the men, but it has the desired effect. Some drop flat on their stomachs, while others take off running in the opposite direction. Relying on the distraction, I spin and take off the other way. I expect to have to herd Roc in the right direction, but I’m pleasantly surprised to see him halfway to the tunnel entrance, carrying our pack and both swords awkwardly with his bound hands. It’s a good thing, too, because by the time I reach the halfway mark, the bullets and arrows start flying all around me.

  Luckily, as perfect as their aim was when they rescued us from Rivet’s men, their aim is equally off the mark this time, probably a result of the frantic nature of the shots coupled with my erratic movement away from them. Plus, I’m firing haphazard bursts of bullets over my shoulder, which surely distracts them. The closest shot is an arrow that catches a loose bit of my tunic, tearing off a tatter of cloth.

  A few more bullets rip bits of rock from the ground at my sides, but nothing gets close enough to worry me. I charge into the tunnel, practically knocking Roc, who is waiting just inside, flat on his buttocks. The next problem: it’s freaking dark in the tunnel and I don’t have time to stop and pull a torch from our pack. Even if I did I wouldn’t use it, as it would only draw more attention to our whereabouts.

  I loop the gun strap over my shoulder to free up my hands and help Roc sling the pack around his neck. I tuck my sword into its scabbard and use Roc’s sword to cut his hands free. I’m wasting too much time, but it will be easier with neither of us bound. I grab Roc’s hand to ensure we can stay together.

  Although I was quite observant as we approached the hub—looking for side passages, dangerous obstacles, etc.—I’m still worried that at any moment we might slam directly into a rock wall or boulder, ending our smooth escape and breaking our Sun Dweller noses.

  I count the strides as we run, trying to estimate where the first side tunnel is. I know we’re getting close. “Slow up, Roc,” I say. I pull him to the left until I brush against the tunnel wall. “Stay along the wall.”

  I release his hand and feel along the wall, moving more quickly now that I have something to guide me. We hear a cry from behind, as one of our pursuers enters the tunnel. They can’t see us, but we can see them—a half-dozen torches glow behind us.

  Suddenly the wall gives way to my left. “This way,” I hiss, turning the corner and continuing to use the wall as a guide. I know our only hope is to make enough turns that they’ll have to continuously split up to ensure they don’t miss us.

  “Faster,” I whisper. I pick up the pace, moving rapidly along the wall. Roc is awesome, obeying my commands to perfection and moving noiselessly behind me.

  “Switch sides,” I say, pushing off from the wall and wandering blindly until I find the wall on the opposite side.

  I hear voices behind us. They aren’t cries from the chase anymore—more like a discussion. Deciding what to do at the side tunnel. Who will search it versus who will continue down the main tunnel. I ignore them and keep feeling for the next gap.

  It comes soon, leading off diagonally to the right. “Bear right,” I say, moving into a new tunnel. If the men do what I expect them to do—continue cutting their numbers at each fork in the road—it will mean that six will follow us down the side tunnel, and now only three will pursue us into the angled tunnel tributary.

  I move even faster, running now, praying it’s not a dead end. It’s freaking scary running in complete darkness, especially when you have no idea what’s up ahead. At any moment we could fall into a deep pit, crashing onto jagged rock spikes at the bottom. Or we might plunge into the depths of an icy underwater river with a fierce current, sucking us deeper underground where we’ll drown.

  Because of fate, or the blessings of a higher power, or just plain old dumb luck, none of those things happen. In fact, the best possible thing happens: we reach a small tunnel hub. The rock wall gives way to my right, but I can tell it isn’t a new tunnel because of the arc of the wall. Typically a tunnel hub links between four and eight other tunnels. I have no idea how many this hub will have, but it doesn’t really matter. As long as the guys behind us don’t guess right.

  “Hub,” I say for Roc’s benefit. “Count with me. We’ll take the third side tunnel on the right.”

  “Yes, sir,” Roc says, managing to mock me even in the worst situation.

  I pass a gap in the hub wall. “One,” I say.

  “One,” Roc parrots.

  The next gap is almost immediately after the first. “Two.”

  “Two.”

  The third gap is a bit further, but only by a yard or two. “Three,” I say, cutting sharply to the right.

  I barely hear Roc’s muffled, “Three,” as the floor drops away beneath me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adele

  Elsey is saying something beside me, but I’m not listening, lost in my thoughts. Then I realize her head is cocked to the side and she’s staring at me as we walk. She’s asked me a question.

  “Wha…what?” I say. She gives me a look. “Sorry, I’m just a little…distracted.”

  “Have you met Tristan before?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Then how’d he know your name?”

  “From the news I s’pose.”

  “Do you think he’s de—”

  “No!” I exclaim, louder than I’d planned. My voice echoes dangerously through the caverns. Ahead of us, Cole and Tawni stop and look back—Cole glares at me while Tawni stands with her hands on her hips.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. “No more talking for now, El.”

  We walk for the next three hours in silence. We don’t take any side tunnels, afraid that we’ll get turned around and end up going in circles. The tunnel gradually gets thinner and the ceiling lower, until we’re forced to march in single file, slightly stooped, Cole then Tawni then Elsey then me. It’s claustrophobic.

  When my back begins to ache so badly from the awkward posture that I think I can’t go any further, I hear an elated cry ahead of me. I hasten my steps, realizing I’ve fallen quite far behind. A minute or so later, the tunnel emerges into a small alcove. By small I mean the four of us are barely able to fit. But that’s not what made someone—Tawni, I think—cry out.

  I gasp at the wall of water before us. Our path is completely blocked by a waterfall, streaming so effortlessly from above that it appears as smooth as a mirror, the surface marred only by Tawni’s hand, which is stuck into the flow.

  “It’s cold,” she announces, cupping her hand and taking a small sip. “And clean, too, I think.”

  After our long day of marching, we don’t need further invitation. We line up along the waterfall, drinking until the water is dribbling down our chins, soaking our clothes. It feels wonderful. After we satisfy our thirst, we wash our arms, legs and faces, feeling refreshed for the first since escaping the Pen.

  The waterfall alcove is as good a place as any to stop, so we do, rationing the food in our packs, which are feeling lighter and lighter.

  “What should we do?” Tawni asks. I dread backtracking, trying to find another tunnel to go down, more of the same rough rock walls and single file marching.

  “I’m going to see what’s behind that waterfall,” I say, standing up.

  “Be careful,” Tawni cautions, “it might drop into a pit.”

  “Cole, hold me back,” I say.

  Cole joins me at the waterfall and holds my left arm with two hands, lowering himself into a well-leveraged crouch.

  I push my hand into the streaming
water. It tickles my skin and splashes me in the face, so I turn my head to avoid getting water in my eyes. I force my arm further in, until the water is hitting my elbow, and then my shoulder. Still my hand hasn’t made it through.

  “You got me?” I say.

  “Yeah,” Cole grunts, straining a bit. “Not too much further though.”

  With a deep breath, I duck my head into the icy stream, gasping slightly when the water hits me. All of my weight is being held by Cole now, as I lean over the edge of whatever abyss the falls empty into.

  And then I’m through. Although the water is all around me, I can tell that my fingers aren’t being pelted anymore. Mission accomplished. I try to lean back, but gravity’s hold is too strong. In fact, I feel like I’m being pulled downwards. Behind me I can feel Cole’s fingers slipping off my arm as water pours down my head and shoulder.

  I’m going forward, not back, that much I know. If I simply let myself slip from Cole’s grasp, I’ll fall awkwardly, potentially hitting my head on a rock, and will most definitely end up taking a dive to wherever all the water’s going. I have no other choice.

  I wrench my arm free from Cole and leap.

  The water pummels me from above as I fly through the air, as if the liquid has suddenly grown arms and is grabbing at me, trying to pull me down. For all I know, there might be nothing behind the waterfall, just a big dark void, spiraling downward all the way to the earth’s molten core.

  My foot lands on something hard and twists to the side. I let out a slight cry and tumble over, skinning an arm on the unforgiving tunnel floor. Complete darkness surrounds me. I don’t have a light. I lie on the ground for a moment, panting, my heart beating faster than a miner’s in a rock cart race. I can hear water rushing all around me. Not just behind, but in front, too. At first I think it’s just the echo of the waterfall I jumped through, but when I crawl forward a few feet, I find that another waterfall blocks my way.

  Suddenly, I have a desire to leap through the next waterfall. And then the one after that, if there is one. Hesitating for a moment, I come to my senses and feel my way back to the original waterfall. Through the tinkling water, I can hear faint voices yelling. I jump back through.