The Tremblers

by Raquel Byrnes

  “And you offer yourself as her alternative?” I ground my jaw, a tremor shaking through me. “Did you promise to reign in Defiance for The Order if they help you take over?”

  “There is peace to be had,” Berkley said. “If reasoning minds are allowed—”

  “They cannot be trusted.” Ashton said. “Not The Order. Not the Governors.”

  “Neither can Lizzie and her Defiance,” Berkley shot back to him, anger mottling the skin of his cheeks.

  “Do not do this,” Ashton said evenly, his fingers finding the shackle links at his wrist. I noted they were coated with blood. “You have been lied to.”

  “Defiance terrorizes with bombs.” Berkley stumbled in the vapor, swearing when he burned himself on a hot conduit, but his aim never wavered. “They interrupt factories and manufacturing, putting everyone under the domes at risk. The Order believes they must be stopped for the greater good. I agree. Lizzie cannot go on like this.”

  “How can you really believe Lizzie would kill to make a point?” Ashton snapped, his voice rough with pain. He doubled over, his hand coming away with more blood. “Did you even relay to her our coordinates on the ship? Did you sink us on purpose?”

  I stepped closer to Berkley, my hands shaking as I held them out. “Do you even know what the journal holds? It could stop all that death.” I nodded toward the sea, to the bodies mercifully obscured by the fog of steam swirling around us. “All the suffering. You want to help those in Port Rodale, but what of the countless others dying from the Trembling Sickness? Ashton is right. The Order will withhold the contents if it suits their grab for power. Please, Berkley, do not risk thousands of lives on their promise.”

  “Did you not mean to exchange the journal for the life of one man? Your father?” The whir of the tracer gun intensified with our closer proximity to the grid; the charge cycling up to deadly intensity. “Hypocrite! You place everyone at risk for what you wanted. Do not speak to me of helping others,” Berkley shouted, stepping to Ashton and pointing the tracer to his head. “Now give it to me or I will fry his brain.”

  “No, please,” I yelled, my gaze on Ashton’s hunched form. “Here…here it is.” I pulled the journal from the oiled leather pouch at my waist and held it up. The pocket watch chain wrapped around it glinted with the Tesla Dome’s light.

  Berkley ripped it from my grasp, the look of relief on his face evident even through the mask. “You did the right thing, lass—”

  Out of the murky vapor behind him ragged hands lashed out.

  I screamed, staggering back as countless lurching bodies emerged from the billowing fog, no doubt lured by our shouting. They clenched onto Berkley, their gnashing and moans barely audible over the thrum of the engine as they shuffled, enveloping him in their numbers. He shouted and I lunged for him only to have Ashton yank me back.

  The Tremblers wailed, their limbs thrashing.

  “Help me!” Berkley grasped through the tangle of arms, reaching for us with desperate screams.

  Spying the tracer gun on the grass, I grabbed it, firing into the throng. A few Tremblers jerked with the force of the blast, falling to the ground with wracking shudders, but the weapon exhausted its charge, sputtering as I pulled the trigger over and over in a panic.

  “Hold on,” Ashton yelled as he reached into the fray.

  They flailed at him, inflicting deep ragged scratches on his arms as he struggled.

  “Berkley!” Ashton flew backwards, thrown by a Trembler’s blow. He stared helplessly at the writhing throng, his hand closed around the journal.

  The pocket watch toppled to the sand and I dove for it, pulling the chain over my head like a necklace as I helped him up.

  A sharp keening built, the cacophonous sound of dozens of Tremblers shrieking at once. I covered my ears, a silent scream shuddering me as the rotting horde of bodies swarmed. They quaked, violently shaking Berkley in their clutch. His voice warbled, the viciousness of the thrashing rattling the air from his lungs. They screeched, jolting him with every tremor that wracked their bodies. My stomach tumbled; dread pooling as Berkley’s head whipped back and forth on his shoulders with the force of their convulsions. His screams cut off abruptly with a crack as his body went limp, sagging into their huddle.

  “They…they killed him,” I gasped, my face visor clouding over with my frantic breaths. “They broke his neck.”

  “We cannot help him, Charlie,” Ashton said as he eased us away. “There are too many here,” he shouted heading back down the maintenance walkway. “We have to go back.”

  I stumbled as Ashton dragged me with him back through the columns of pipes, the narrow path slowing our progress. Behind me, through the mist, forms closed in. I bumped into Ashton’s back when he stopped, his body tense. I peered around him and my heart stuttered. A crowd of Tremblers staggered down the walkway toward us. We were trapped.

  24

  “Back up,” Ashton shouted, his face mask flaring with heated breath as he tucked Charlotte behind him against the railing. Facing off with the approaching mob, he calculated numbers, figured weight. Too many to fight. He eyed the overhead pipework, could they climb? Steam escaped the connectors, heat from the pipes distorting the air. No, she would never make it. The deep thrum of the steam works reverberated through him as he fought to form a coherent plan.

  “Ash?” Charlotte’s terrified voice sounded through her mask. She held onto his shirt with fists, her entire body quaking with fear.

  “We will get out of this.” His filter canister buzzed, out of time, and the shrill noise echoed through the tangle of pipes.

  The Tremblers swarmed, their moans adding to the piercing sound as they snapped their jaws, their lunges throwing them ever closer. He ripped the mask off, throwing it and the canister over the heads of the Tremblers behind them. Some moved off, following the noise.

  More closed in, only feet on either side, the snap-clash of teeth sickening. Tattered faces with lips twisted into grotesque grimaces flashed in and out of the shards of moonlight knifing through the pipes.

  The smell of rot and blood nearly overwhelmed him as their limbs thrashed, flailing ever closer in the near dark. They pulled themselves along the railing, groaning with the effort. Fighting the burn of the acrid air in his throat, he pulled a knife from the holster on his belt and sawed through the bandolier across his chest. He wrapped the thick strap of leather around his forearm securing it within his fist to protect his skin from bites.

  “What are we doing?” Charlie gasped, the click and whir of her air mask coming in hitches.

  “The only thing we can.” He glanced back at her, surprised at the determined look on her face as her eyes traveled the walls. Her gaze snapped to his.

  “This is all metal,” she panted. “All of it.”

  “What?”

  “The tracer.” She held out her hand. “Let me have it.”

  He handed it to her and then kicked out, toppling a Trembler over the railing. “Why?”

  “We have gum bottom boots,” Charlie said, her small hands working the gears of the tracer gun.

  “There are too many to shoot,” he countered. “We can’t hit them all, there isn’t enough power.”

  “I don’t mean to hit them individually,” Charlotte said. She held his gaze, nodding. “Don’t touch anything…put your hands over your head.”

  “What?” Batting a clutching hand aside, Ashton kicked another at the knees, sending it down, only to have four others stumble over it to get to them.

  “Now, Ash!”

  He did, and she moved, slamming the tracer gun to the metal railing and pulling the trigger. A fantastic explosion of light and crackling energy sizzled down the handrail and surrounding pipes. The charge arched to the Tremblers, crawling over their faces, lighting up their eyes, jumping from body to body as their muscles stiffened, slamming them against each other.

  “It worked!” she shouted, astonishment on her face.

  “Go, go, go!” Ashton drove for
ward, his arm out, catching on teeth and nails as he pulled Charlie with him over the Tremblers. Trampling them under his boots, he stumbled, going down on his knees atop the chest of one.

  Charlotte screamed as a Trembler’s hands clamped around her legs, the seizure of his whole body knocking the mask from her face.

  Righting himself, Ashton scrambled over countless stomachs, backs, and thighs, tugging Charlotte with him.

  The shock of the charge nearly dissipated, the Tremblers moved beneath them, a wave of undulating flesh that threw them against hot pipes.

  Charlotte screamed, coughing on the vaporous air. “Up here,” she called and climbed the railing, balancing atop it like a circus performer. Ashton followed and they slipped and stumbled around the remaining bodies using the hot pipes for balance. She cried out with pain, but kept going, never leaving his side.

  Ashton jumped down, his hand closing around Charlotte’s, as he ran onward. The crash of their boots on the metal walkway was sure to lure more. He had to get them out of the pipes, out of the heat sapping at their strength. His side throbbing from the tracer hit, gray closed in on his vision, and he fought to keep conscious. He had to, for Charlie. His Charlie.

  Please…

  Countless battles flashed in Ashton’s mind; stayed hands, averted deaths, and miraculous escapes.

  Once more, my Lord. For her…

  “The generator,” Charlie shouted, yanking him to a stop. She pointed down a transecting corridor of pipes to a labeled metal door lit by the glow of incandescents.

  “Search for the emitter,” Ashton panted, coughing. “On the floor, there should be a set of exhaust ducts.”

  They ran to the door.

  Behind him, over the thrum of the dome’s vast engine, the snarling call of Tremblers warbled through the dark. Shadows slid along the corridor floor and walls, the shambling forms growing larger.

  “Hurry,” Charlotte begged, her eyes wide with terror. “Please, hurry!”

  Four rods protruded from a metal base surrounding a center ring of gold-plated contacts and lenses protected by a glass dome. The entire assembly was caged with thick bars. The grid’s pulse surged through the machine, and Charlotte’s hair rose with static electricity. Reaching below, he felt along the sealed metal casing protecting the heart of the dome’s power, the pulse emitter. Finding it, Ashton ran the pads of his fingers along the floor as he felt for the lip of the exhaust port filter. The metal screen pulled away, revealing a dark duct below. Smoky fumes wafted up from the opening, their wispy tendrils glowing in the moonlight.

  “Drop in.” He held his hand out to Charlotte.

  “But our masks…”

  “We try to make it this way or die in here, Charlie.” His gaze shot to a clang just beyond the corridor.

  The first pale form rounded the corner. It stood swaying on its feet, jaws working with stomach-turning force. Another stumbled against it, the two lunging forward, black eyes swiveling as they grasped out in front of them. Their moans grew louder, shrill as more appeared.

  Gritting his teeth, Ashton turned, cradled Charlotte’s face with his hands, and held her gaze. “We will make it.”

  She paused a moment before leaning in to place a fast kiss on his cheek before she dropped in. She trusted him. Lord, help me be worthy of it.

  Ashton followed, pulling the screen back down over the opening as the first fingers poked through. The Tremblers scraped and snarled at the duct opening. Charlotte’s cough spurred Ashton to move. Minutes away from the exhaust vapors completely overwhelming them, he stumbled with her toward the end of the shaft. Every step grew more and more exhausting, the weight of his limbs enormous. A light, faint and constant, glowed ahead.

  Charlotte sank to her knees, her arm going limp in his grasp. “Leave me here,” she wheezed. “You c—can make it.”

  “You will not die here, Charlotte Blackburn,” Ashton rasped, his chest burning. “You will live to be properly kissed.”

  She laughed weakly, her form falling into his arms. “Ash…”

  He held her to him, sweat pouring down his back, each breath a stabbing pain. Hooking his arms underneath her, he cradled her limp body as he staggered forward. Muscles quivering, heart pounding, he shook his head, refusing the inevitable. I am utterly empty. I—I have nothing left. Falling to his knees, he clutched Charlotte to his chest, anguish wrenching through him. Choking on the fumes, Ashton squeezed his eyes shut, his whispers trailing over her. “If…if I make my bed in the depths, You are there…”

  25

  I floated on the edge of nothing. Darkness surrounded me, the winds of death whipping my clothes and hair. So cold, I flailed, frantic to cover up as the force of it ripped my ball gown and cape away. The rags blew out in front of me, tumbling away into black oblivion. Stripped bare by the gale, I clasped my arms around my nakedness, trembling as terror spiked my heart. All around, in the inky black, forms moved, falling and crawling over each other as they fought to reach me. A rush of voices flooded through me, rising with strength until the cries pierced my heart and brought me to my knees. Pain and fear and a throbbing wave of need, I could not fathom. It flattened me to the ground, crushing the breath from my lungs.

  Overhead, a ticking grew louder, thunderous as every moment passed by with agonizing clarity. The tunnel around me crumbled, fracturing into a whirling dervish of debris and screaming wind. I curled up on the floor, covering my face as the tempest tore at my bared skin. The moments slipped ever faster toward disaster.

  Multiple blasts shook the air, heat rushing across the floor spewing molten puddles, and I looked across the ground at their glowing light. They flared, moving in a spiraling snake of fire toward me. I knew this. I’d seen it before and the thought crushed its way through my mind with startling clarity. I tried to get up, to stand and run, but my limbs failed me and I collapsed, shaking as a sob tore from my throat. I had to stop it. I had to stop it or they would all die.

  “No!”

  I slammed down into myself, my eyes snapping open, as I tore from my fevered dream with a ragged gasp. Even as I struggled to hold onto them, the gossamer images faded from my memory until all I could remember was pain and cold and darkness. Blinking in the candle light, I stared at a boarded up window and struggled to get my bearings. Curled up on the floor, the roughness of canvas scratched my arms and I pulled it tighter as a wave of chills sent a shuddering breath from my lips. A tortured groan rattled through me and I struggled to sit, every joint in my body aching as if I’d tumbled down a vast mountain.

  Flashes of fear still gripped me and I choked down sobs. Shaking my head, I told myself it was just a dream, but I knew the truth. I knew something terrible barreled toward us, and the helplessness nearly made me crumble to pieces. Movement next to me pulled my gaze and a strong arm held me close.

  “Charlie,” Ashton pulled me tighter to his side. “You were crying in your sleep.” Propped against the wall near the smoldering fireplace, he turned to face me, wincing as he emerged into the light. “Nightmares?”

  “Yes, I…” I shook my head, the vestiges of the dream falling away and still the unwanted certainty of fate mingled with fear.

  “Are you all right?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “The fumes overcame you. I was so worried.”

  “I am fine.” I took in his pale face and half-mast eye lids. My teeth chattered and I stopped the noise with my tongue between them. “What is wrong?”

  “My shoulder.” His face slick with sweat, he squeezed his eyes shut. “We make it through a throng of Tremblers only to be taken out by a locked door.”

  “You burst through?” Pulling back his collar, I winced, my stomach tightening with worry. His shoulder bulged from its socket, distorting his bruised skin.

  “As I said, it was locked.”

  “You need a doctor, Ash.” I tightened the tarp around me, my joints stiff and sore.

  “You are still so cold.” He shook his head, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuck
les with warm lips.

  A flush of heat bloomed across my skin and I looked at him, riveted by the intensity of his dark gaze.

  He tossed the broken leg of a chair on the fire. “I prayed you would come back to me.”

  “How did we get here?” I worried about the burn left by Berkley’s tracer gun. The electrical charge left a charred hole in his shirt, and marred his skin an angry red. I reached for him, but he stilled my hands, holding them in one of his. “I must have passed out, Ashton. Did you carry me?”

  “I couldn’t reach him. Berkley, I mean. I had his fingers and then he shoved the book in my hand, but the Tremblers—”

  “Don’t. We tried. There were too many. We were lucky to get out alive ourselves.”

  “He thought he was doing the right thing.” He shook his head, struggling to his feet.

  The color drained from his face. Ashton could not hold himself upright.

  An ache so deep I could scarcely breathe squeezed at my throat as it hit me that all had been for naught. My father, Aunt Sadie, Berkley…all gone for nothing if we failed to find Collodin. If I failed.

  “You need help,” I murmured. “Won’t The Order—”

  “I won’t call them. Not now. They may offer help only to attack when we reveal our location. No…The Order is not to be trusted any longer.”

  “Ash,” I rasped, aware of the pain in his eyes. My fingers found the links at his wrist. “I am so sorry.”

  “My covenant is not with any Order or church, Charlie,” he said softly and covered my hand with his. “It is with my God alone. Their lack of faith does not affect mine. We will succeed in stopping this sickness. I know we will, together.”

  “But it is just the two of us,” I whispered even as I took in his injuries and tried to convince myself I wasn’t alone in this now.

  “That is of no consequence,” he smiled weakly.

  Letting my gaze travel the strong angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, I was not sure I was the person he thought he saw. “Ashton,” I took in a ragged breath. “I think you see more to me than there truly exists.”