Clover

by Lisa Jade

  “You too, Girlie? What are you planning?”

  I gulp, instinctively stepping back. What’s wrong with me? Why does this man scare me so much? Knowing what he’s done, knowing what he’s willing to do… my heart pounds at the thought of the punishment he might inflict on us. And that’s before he’s even figured out what we’re doing. It’s taking all I have not to turn and run.

  Kane catches my eye – and I see all my own fear reflected back at me.

  I can’t go.

  I take advantage of the momentary distraction and dart to the side. It’s not enough to make him release Kane, but Wirrow twists to watch me and his grip loosens a touch. The younger man inhales sharply, drinking in what little air he can as though it were the most precious thing he’s known.

  Wirrow whips back around to tighten his grip but in a moment I’m on his back, locking my legs around his waist as best I can. He’s a damn sight taller than me and just as broad, but he still staggers as I loop my arms around his neck and kick off from the wall.

  He releases Kane and the two of us tumble to the ground, rolling into the narrow ditch alongside the pathway. As I shift, though, I feel his weight on me. Knees press into my stomach. Heavy hands dig into my shoulders.

  Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.

  Wirrow’s eyes are fixed on mine, black into blue, anger into fear. His fingertips sink into my shoulders, hard enough to hurt – I strain against him, but I’m pinned.

  “Nice try, girlie.”

  Despite the nickname, there’s no familiarity or warmth in his eyes. Unlike that first day with Kane in the fields, there’s no hint of pride in his expression. I’m no longer a hard worker, worthy of some small degree of respect. Now, I’m a criminal. A traitor.

  But then his eyes roll back in his head – and a moment later, he slumps against me.

  “Are you okay?”

  Kane is standing over us, rusted shovel in hand. There’s a little blood on it – for a brief moment I panic, fearing he’s killed Wirrow – but then the Guard groans, and I realise he’s not quite out.

  “Thanks,” I say as I wriggle out from under him, “I was starting to panic.”

  He shrugs as though it were nothing; but there’s a hint of colour in his cheeks, a tell-tale sign of how proud he feels. He’s likely wanted to knock Wirrow out ever since that first day, when the older man had threatened him in the field.

  I try to smile back, but I’m surprised to find it doesn’t work. There have been plenty of times I’ve thought I might die, and they’ve all been frightening; but I’ve never seen bloodlust in someone’s eyes before. Not like that, anyway. The look in Wirrow’s eyes was different from Maynard’s cold, calculated anger, or any of the other Guards and their brutish mannerisms. I suddenly remember what the others told me about the Guard; they’re all psychopaths. All insane. At the time I hadn’t been sure whether to believe them. Now? I don’t doubt it.

  Kane pokes his head into the tunnel.

  “Sara? You still there?”

  “Yeah,” comes the breathy reply, “what the hell happened?”

  “We sorted it. But we need to hurry, before he comes to.”

  As I follow them into the tunnel, I’m surprised how quickly she’s got everything set up. The explosives are set up in a strange order that doesn’t make much sense to me. She seems a little confused; her hair is an unruly mess around her face, and she looks at each of us with concern in her eyes.

  “Are you guys okay? You look like hell.”

  I reach up and gingerly touch my shoulder. There are a multitude of sore spots that I’m sure will form impressive bruises, but it’s not too bad. Kane’s neck is the same. Wirrow must have put a lot of force behind his attack. He really was trying to kill him.

  Another groan emits from the passageway behind us.

  “We need to go,” I say, “how long?”

  “Just a minute longer.”

  “Hurry.”

  Sara does as she’s told and finishes quickly.

  “Timer’s set,” she mutters, “get into the hides, quick.”

  We obey immediately, sinking into the ditches I’d carved earlier. They’re somewhat tighter than expected – I should have made them larger – but they’ll serve a purpose. I squeeze myself in as deep as I can and listen to the hushed, building beeps of the timer. In the crevice next to me, Sara counts under her breath.

  “Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…”

  My throat feels tight. Perhaps I’m nervous about the upcoming explosion and the chaos that we’ll experience straight after. More likely, it’s hope and trepidation and excitement. I can’t wait to see the sun again, to step outside and feel some kind of freedom.

  Somehow, no matter what it takes, I’ll make it back to the others. I might have failed my mission – but I’ll go back, and I’ll take the others with me. Jensen said he needed five more people. I don’t suppose for a second that two will be enough, but it’s all I can do.

  “Nine, eight, seven…”

  Something shifts behind me. Wirrow steps into the end of the tunnel, all teeth and eyes and ferocity. There’s blood streaming down his face and mixing in his mouth – he looks like he shouldn’t be able to move and yet, there he is. He snarls something that sounds like my name, quickly followed by Kane’s. He doesn’t see us, but he’s looking.

  “Five, four, three…”

  We duck down as the explosives detonate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Is everyone okay?”

  Sara’s voice breaks through the silence. There’s too much dust and dirt around for me to see her clearly, but she sounds unharmed. Kane responds with a coughing fit.

  “Y-yeah. Did it work?”

  I don’t answer. I’m too busy staring at the bus-sized hole we just blew in the wall. At the sunlight streaming through. At the sight of hills and sky beyond it. Suddenly, I don’t care about the mud in my hair or the dust catching in my throat. We did it. We’re out.

  Kane steps up beside me as the dust clears, planting a hand on my shoulder.

  “I can’t believe that worked.”

  Sara just laughs.

  “You mean you doubted me?”

  “We don’t have time to wait around,” I tell them, “there’s no way the Guards didn’t hear that. They’ll be here any minute.”

  They both nod, but still wait for me to head out first. To some degree, I don’t blame them; I’d do the same in their position. Still, it’s with some trepidation that I step towards the light.

  “Girlie.”

  I whip round, terrified that he’s right behind me – but he’s not. Wirrow’s voice seems disembodied, floating up from somewhere near my feet. It sounds pained, stressed. Like the speaker is barely conscious.

  My gaze sinks to the pile of rubble and dirt in front of me - the remnants of what we just blew up. Even in the dim light, I can see something alien within the mess. Something moving. Wirrow’s buried in the rubble, encased up to his ribs. His skin is pale and it’s clear that he’s injured – but he’s still straining to reach for something. I follow his gaze to his shock baton. It lies only a few feet from him, an inch too far for him to grab.

  I scoop it up, then immediately regret it as his eyes widen with fear.

  “Going to kill me, are you?”

  My heart is in my throat. I hadn’t intended to harm him; but I could. I’ve done it before, right? I was able to forget that. I could forget this, too. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll come after us. He’ll chase us to the ends of the Earth if he has to. Now we’ve beaten him so thoroughly, his pride is on the line. My fingers tighten around the baton, index coming to rest on the button. It’s just like killing a particularly troublesome fox, right?

  Memories of that night in Thorne flash in my head. Aiming Pan’s gun into the sky, feeling horror in my stomach as the helicopters had plummeted to the ground. At the time, I’d pushed aside how awful it was because if I hadn’t done it, we would have been killed.
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br />   But now, I don’t have to do this.

  And I don’t want to.

  Instead, I toss the device aside. Wirrow stares.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” I scowl, “I’m not like you.”

  His mouth twitches, the corners turning upward.

  “Big mistake. I’ll track you down, you know that.”

  Kane steps up beside me, a familiar hand resting on my shoulder – assurance, if it were needed, that I’m doing the right thing. I look from one man to the other, then return Wirrow’s smile.

  “I know you will. And we’ll finish this then. But I’m not going to attack while you’re helpless. Whatever would my parents say?”

  He doesn’t answer, but anger flashes in his eyes. There’s a slight ringing in my ears, perhaps a remnant of the explosion; Kane’s saying something now, addressing Wirrow, but the ringing is loud and I can’t quite make out the words. But there’s something akin to fear in his eyes, so I’m sure Kane’s threatening him. Warning him what will happen if he comes after us. It won’t stop him. We both know that. Wirrow’s pride won’t let him be beaten without recourse. He’ll do anything to catch us now. As we gather what few belongings we have and exit the Mines, I feel satisfied with the look of failure in his eyes.

  I’m not sure how long we’ve been running for. I know the general direction of the Dock, and there’s the definite scent of sea in the air, but it seems like it’s taking much longer than normal to get there.

  I glance back; nobody’s following us. They haven’t been for miles. Upon leaving the Mill we’d heard a few stray gunshots and had taken off running, but either the shots weren’t for us, or they’d realised rather quickly that they couldn’t keep up.

  I stick my nose in the air and inhale deeply. I can still smell the ocean; we’re near. The dirt underfoot is mixing into sand, making it a little harder to keep up the pace. I can hear Sara and Kane straining to keep up with me, so I slow down. They’ve been in the Mines a lot longer than I have. It’s been a long time since either of them have had to run flat out like this.

  “Okay,” I say as we slow to a stop, “I think we’re near the Dock.”

  As if on cue, a ship blares its horn. Sara yelps and ducks behind Kane, much to his amusement.

  “W-what the hell is that?”

  “Calm down. It’s just a boat.”

  Kane smiles broadly at her naiveté, but his expression betrays him. He’s exhausted, too, and doesn’t know quite what’s going on. It suddenly sets in that out of the three of us, I’m the only one who knows where we’re going. The thought is intimidating at best. Sara runs a hand through her coarse hair, tugging at the roots like she could understand what’s going on with just enough pain.

  “I-I can’t believe we did that. We’re out.”

  She turns her eyes to the sky now, inhaling deeply. She’s taking in everything around her with cautious optimism, as though frightened it could be snatched away at any moment. It’s only in the bright, open space that I realise how tiny she is. Shorter than most, with stick-thin arms; unusual for the Mill. Most of us build muscle through everyday work. But Sara looks more suited to life in Thorne than anywhere else. Her eyes have grown so used to the darkness that now she draws her hair over them to shade them from the blazing sun.

  Kane seems less shaken, though knowing him, he’s just putting on an act. There’s something in the way he’s moving, some hesitation behind his bravado, that tells me he’s more frightened than he’d like to admit. I guess we’ve all been conditioned to follow the Guard, whether we like it or not. It’s still there, in our heads. The fear of what might happen, and the instinct to obey.

  I’m still a little shaken myself. I’ve fought off Guards before and thought nothing of it, but this was different. This wasn’t some random, faceless Guard taken down in a fight. It was Wirrow. A face I’ve spent years around, a voice I’d recognise anywhere. I don’t feel sorry for him. He deserved everything he got – he’s just lucky I left him alive. But there’s still guilt there. Like I’ve destroyed something important. But then Kane wraps a slim arm around Sara’s shoulders, turning her away. She gasps.

  “W-wow.”

  “What is it?”

  I follow their gaze into the distance.

  There it is. The ocean, just as gorgeous as last time. It’s silver-blue in the growing light of morning, illuminated by just the tiniest hint of gold on the horizon. The sun’s coming up. I take another deep breath through my nose, revelling in the salty air and distant sound of waves. I know that Thorne is my home, but the ocean always takes my breath away. It’s definitely my favourite place in this whole messed up world – and already, I feel calmer. My breathing slows and all the tension drops from my shoulders as I step up next to Kane and Sara.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  My voice is soft, unusual for me, but they don’t seem to notice. To them, it’s a reasonable reaction. Quiet reverence is the only appropriate way to handle this sight. Suddenly, I’m happy we did this. That I’ll likely see Wirrow’s harrowing expression in my nightmares doesn’t matter; as long as I can feel this freedom every day.

  After several minutes of staring, Sara rubs at her face.

  “Well then, what’s the plan?”

  She pulls back her lips into a smirk, and I feel somewhat taken aback by her sudden shift in attitude. She’s moved past her fear in a matter of minutes, bouncing back much faster than I would have. Or indeed, faster than I did. I choose not to question it.

  “Thorne’s across the ocean,” I say, “so we need a boat.”

  Kane shoots me a pained look.

  “Sure thing, let me just pull out the raft I keep in my back pocket. There aren’t any boats, Noah!”

  “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed. I figured we’d just float across on a cloud. Of course there aren’t any boats! They’re not allowed to cross anywhere except between the Docks.”

  He raises his eyebrow at that, and in his eyes I catch a lingering sense of loathing; but he pushes it aside. For a brief moment I wonder if I should address it. If I should bring his anger out and try to face it somehow. But there’s no time for that. Besides, he’s willing to put his frustration aside for the sake of our goals. I can’t fault him for that.

  “We need to head towards the Dock,” I explain, “it should be… this way.”

  I take off in my chosen direction, certain it’s correct. The way the beach curves up over there is both familiar and tempting, so I decide to go for it.

  “Won’t we get caught the second we go in?” Sara asks.

  “No. The last time they asked me where I was going, but that was it. The only security we should have to worry about is the outer city limits.”

  “But,” Kane points out helpfully, “won’t the Mine Guards have let the Docks know they’ve got some escapees? There’s no way they won’t be on lookout.”

  I pause.

  “Okay… good point.”

  He just stares, as though waiting for me to pull the answer out of thin air. The expectation is unnerving and I fight the desire to remind him of my own inexperience, that I’m playing this by ear just as much as they are. But that won’t help anyone.

  “As I remember, there were chain-link fences all around the Dock,” I mutter, “if we can get there quickly, before it gets too light out, we can vault the fence while they’re loading up the boats. The Guards will be too distracted to notice us slip on board.”

  Sara gives a small nod, clearly satisfied with my answer – but yet again, Kane seems unsure.

  “Won’t the people manning the boats notice us? If we try to sneak on, we’ll get caught.”

  “It’s okay. The Guards don’t go on every trip – just the big ones. The cargo transporters and such. We just need a small boat.”

  “And will there be a small boat?”

  I stare out into the ocean, familiar voices and faces flashing in my head.

  “I really hope so.”

  We approach the Doc
k under a cover of half-darkness. There’s a general sense of chaos in the air as we duck around to the side of the gate, staying low in hopes that the Guards won’t notice us. For a few moments we stand in the shadows just beyond the chain-link fence, watching the bustle of another normal day.

  “They don’t seem too agitated,” Sara says hopefully, “maybe they don’t expect us.”

  “Not likely,” Kane grumbles, “there’s no way the Mines wouldn’t have told them. Maybe they just don’t think we’d be likely to get away.”

  Sara lets out a small whine of concern, but I ignore them both. I’m watching the movements of shadowed silhouettes, trying to determine which are Mill workers and which are Guards. It’s nearly impossible to tell; but then I spy a familiar device hanging from the belt loops of some figures and wince. I hadn’t noticed it last time, but Dock Guards have those ridiculous batons, too.

  Though I’d insist I was playing lookout if they asked, I do have an ulterior motive for watching so closely. I find myself half-hoping that every strapping young man pacing the sand will have that familiar gait and those long strides. A little part of me wants to see Darus’ easy smile and kindly eyes again. I remember coming here the first time, unsure and frightened. He’d been the only person willing to reach out. I’m relying on that kindness to help me again; and though guilt twists in my stomach, serving as a painful reminder of the risks, I’m quietly confident he’ll help me. Whether I tell them a half-truth or explain everything has yet to be seen, but I don’t imagine he’ll turn me away if I ask for help.

  There’s a distant splash as something – or someone – slips into the ocean, causing a small ruckus. The few Guards still nearby head down to deal with whatever situation is unfolding, and I decide to snatch the opportunity.

  “C’mon, this way.”

  As I clamber up the fence, I realise how misleading my idea was. ‘Vaulting a fence’ seems to imply some subtlety, some technique. Instead, the chain link rattles and creaks in an effort to hold my weight, and as I throw one leg over the top I wince at the unpleasant sensation of barbed wire against my thigh. Still, as I drop down onto the other side, there’s silence. Nobody noticed me. I motion for the others to follow and as soon as they land beside me I take off, delving into the crowd with a renewed sense of purpose.