by Amy Braun
Sawyer scowled at me. We both knew the answer. If the generator were any good, they wouldn’t need the kerosene lamps lighting the air hanger. It was fine for warming the hanger– mostly– but if the Dauntless Wanderer was going to be powered again, it needed a stronger, newer energy source. A very difficult thing to obtain since The Storm.
“Then where are we supposed to get it?” he asked impatiently.
I sighed. “The substations.”
Sawyer frowned, knowing what I really meant. I would have to get the power from one of the Electrician’s substations. Garnet’s substations in particular, since I knew where all of them were and how they operated. If he found out that I was there and stealing from him–again– he would take me back and torture me, probably to death. But there was no way I could use the Volt as an electric charge for the Dauntless’ engine. That kind of power would fry the entire ship, and everyone inside.
“Everything else can be fixed with scrap from the Junkyard,” I assured, “so we can go there to get the parts for the power core. But it has to be powered by electricity.”
“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Sawyer asked.
I nodded, and wished I were more like my parents. They would have found another solution. One where electricity wasn’t needed. As good as I was, they were better than I could ever be. I’d followed them around as a child, years before the Discovery of the Breach, finding scrap metal and trying to put it together, turn it into something useful. My parents would smile at my efforts, take my creation, then rebuild the entire thing until it actually worked.
I knew they were trying to teach me how to improve, but all I could think was that nothing I accomplished would ever match their patents and successes. If they had more time, they could have closed the Breach and sent the Hellions back to wherever they’d come from. But my father was killed in a bombing, and my mother left me with secrets and a baby sister.
I fought the urge to fiddle with the skeleton key hanging around my neck. It felt like a lead weight over my heart. I turned the torch over in my hands while scrambling for an answer.
“What is that?”
I looked up at Gemma, who was nodding to the torch in my hand. “This? It’s just something I made.”
The female marauder was staring at the light hungrily. I started to put it back, out of her sight.
“And I only have one,” I said.
She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. Beside her, Nash laughed. He put his arm along her shoulders and kissed her temple. She continued to pout, but didn’t push him away. Grateful that she’d bought me time to answer, I looked at Sawyer.
“I can do this,” I said. “We should get the scrap metal first. It won’t take long, and the Southside Junkyard will have everything I need. After that we can find a plan to get the electricity from Garnet’s substation.”
Sawyer folded his arms over his chest. “Sounds like a risky plan. Especially if the Junkers tell Garnet that you were there. They work for him, don’t they?”
“Yes,” I admitted. It seemed that news traveled fast above the ground as well as under it. “Are you saying you won’t do it?”
Sawyer grinned. “Wouldn’t be a marauder if I didn’t take risks. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Right now we should eat and rest. You’re going to need your full strength if you’re going to run with us, Firecracker.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t call me Firecracker. My name is Claire.”
“Claire,” he said, testing out my name. He spoke it almost gently, as if he liked the way it sounded on his tongue. I kind of wanted him to say it again.
He nodded once, then said, “Let’s get you settled, Firecracker.”
***
When it became clear that Sawyer’s marauders were in no rush, I asked what time it was. Nash was kind enough to explain that the drug Gemma gave me–chloroform– had knocked me out for most of the morning. They transported me, kept an eye on me while I was sleeping, patched my cuts, and let me rest for most of the day. When I woke up, night had fallen again. The favorite raiding time for the Hellions.
As much as I cursed myself for being unconscious for nearly twelve hours, I had to admit that I felt better. The bruises from my beating looked angry, but didn’t hinder me as much anymore. I could walk without feeling like a board. My head was completely clear.
Plus… I was starving.
Water in Westraven could still be found, though it had to be filtered before it could be classified as drinkable. Food was harder to come by. There were a few farms near the downtown market, providing more revenue for the Trade Board and Westraven. All food production and trade halted when the Hellions began their attacks. In the chaos of trying to gather supplies, the farmers had been forced to take their seeds, abandon their farms and hide in the most secluded areas of the city. Some of the farmers tried to create a power monopoly against the Electricians, only to find their new homes burned and themselves forced into slavery. Some marauder Clans were rumored to have hired out farmers to provide food for their own gangs, and ruthlessly killed anyone who tried to steal, trade, or attack them. Garnet had a farmer working for his colony, but only he and a handful of his most trusted thugs knew where that person was.
And it was rare that he felt inclined to share.
Since fresh fruits and vegetables were a challenge to grow with the limited light from the overbearing clouds, meats were a little easier to come by. Most survivors stopped caring about the kind of protein they devoured as food became scarce. When the farm animals were gone, wild animals were next. Westraven didn’t have many forests, but the deer, rabbits, birds, and coyotes in them were quickly hunted to extinction. After that, humans turned on their pets. After that, they captured and ate rats. That seemed to be all that was left, and while it wasn’t terrible if I didn’t think about it too long, even rats were growing scarce. Once all the rats were gone, we would have to turn to something else. Possibly human meat.
The very idea terrified me, but not as much as the rumor that some other colonies had already started doing it.
So when the marauders brought out a small crate of unwashed vegetables, a few bruised fruits, and dried meat, I was stunned. I stared at the contents of the box as Sawyer set it on the floor next to the kerosene lanterns we were circled around. I had to be dreaming. I looked at Sawyer, Gemma, and Nash as they sat across from me. They clearly enjoyed the shocked look on my face.
“We made some deals,” Nash explained, taking out a small red apple and giving it to Gemma. She was reclined against Nash’s chest, comfortable in his arms and content with ignoring me. “We check on our farmer pal Davy, make sure other marauders don’t rough him up and he has what he needs to keep growing, and we get some of the fresh food he grows.” Gemma took a big bite of the apple, chewed contently, and handed it to Nash. He took it eagerly, holding her closer and taking a bite of his own.
“He’s growing food aboveground and no one’s caught or bribed him? How?”
“Davy’s discreet,” Sawyer said, rummaging through the box before he found an apple of his own. He rubbed it along his shirt to clean it. “And we’re very good at what we do.”
He started eating the apple and I felt my stomach start to rumble. I could barely remember the last time I ate real fruit. Garnet was good about keeping us healthy mostly through unused vitamins from apothecaries and hospitals– he liked his people pretty, he said– but it didn’t compare to what I was seeing now. I looked at the marauders for permission, but they seemed lost in their own world. So I reached into the box, and took out an apple, a carrot, and a wide strip of dried meat. I tore into them even before I sat back down. I was eating so fast I barely tasted anything I put in my mouth. Even if the marauders decided to keep me in their group– even if I wanted to stay– I couldn’t imagine things would be this convenient.
“Garnet treats you all like shit, doesn’t he?”
I looked at Nash, whose arms were curled around Gemma. She had th
e apple back, but was watching me with just as much interest as her lover. There was still animosity to her gaze, but hopefully she would hear me out. Before we sat down for dinner, I heard her arguing with Sawyer about keeping me around. About the impossibility and utter danger of the deal we made. It was clear Gemma didn’t trust me. Maybe it was because she didn’t know me. Maybe it was just who she was.
While I thought about my answer, I looked at Nash and Gemma. Physically, they couldn’t look more opposite. His dark skin and bulkiness, her paleness and thin frame. But I barely registered it, because they just fit. I could see the strength in her that attracted the kindness in him. I could also see his willingness to defend her combining with the comfort she felt with him. I barely knew them, but even I could tell that Nash and Gemma were perfect for each other.
I’d never known anything like that. I looked down, picking at the piece of dried meat and nibbling on it.
“He treats everyone like that,” I muttered. “I’m no exception.”
Except that I was. I was always the target of abuse because of who my parents were.
“How did you get trapped by him?”
I shrugged, still looking at my hands. “The same way most people did. I was scared and desperate. I had a baby sister to take care of, and nowhere else to run.”
“How did he know you were an engineer?” Sawyer asked.
I stopped myself from looking at him, and admitting that Garnet knew my parents. “I told him. My mother and father were engineers. I learned from them, and I mentioned it to Garnet when I came to the colony. It kept me safe from… other things.”
No one asked what those other things were, and I was grateful. I broke the silence by continuing to eat and looking up at the marauders.
“What about the three of you? How do you survive up here?”
“By doing what we do best,” Gemma answered, a wicked grin curving her lips. “We lie, cheat, and steal. We play things smart, but we’re not afraid to live dangerously.” She winked at me, then leaned deep into Nash’s chest. “Besides, the underground has nothing worth taking. All the good stuff,” she nudged the foot crate with the tip of her boot, “is up here.”
“But what about the Hellions? Aren’t you worried they’ll find you?”
“No,” Sawyer replied curtly. “If they track us down, we kill them.”
I gaped at him. “You fight them directly? Are you insane?!”
The anger in his expression both answered my question, and worried me.
“It’s not easy and we don’t always seek it out. But the Hellions are butchers. If I get the chance, I’ll kill every last one of them.”
The way he said it left no room for questions. I had no love for the Hellions, but even I knew that fighting them in direct combat was pointless. They were fast, strong, resourceful, and tireless. I would get Abby from the Behemoth and bring it down if the chance presented itself, but I would never fight a Hellion one on one. I’d never, ever seen one of them killed. I wasn’t sure it was possible.
But the look on Sawyer’s face told me that it was possible, that he had done it, and it hadn’t sated the anger swarming his soul.
Without warning, he stood up and walked away. I watched him disappear into the shadows, not sure what I had done something wrong.
“Be careful when bringing up the Hellions,” Gemma said solemnly, getting my attention. “They’re a prickly subject for our captain.”
“Why? What did they do to him?”
“The same thing they did to all of us,” replied Nash, his dark eyes serious. “They took away people he cared about.”
Of course that was the obvious answer. I’d lost both my parents and countless friends to the Hellions. Abby was their prisoner. My little sister, who always looked for bags of sugar on Scavenging Days. It would cover the outside of her clothes in a sparkling power, and she would sprinkle it on anything. Even hard bread or dry meat. She would see me shaking my head and smile, saying, “putting sugar on it makes it a treat.”
My heart pinched in my chest. I absorbed the pain, pushed it away, and glanced at the shadows Sawyer had disappeared into.
Where my fear blinded my rage, the opposite was true for Sawyer. Whatever– or whoever– he lost to the Hellions had pushed him beyond the point of pain. I suspected the only reason he hadn’t completely snapped was because Gemma and Nash knew how to hold him together.
“Do yourself a favor, Claire,” Nash added. “Don’t ask Sawyer about his past. He doesn’t know how to let go of it yet.” Nash made it sound like he never would.
Time seemed to move without me after that conversation ended. Gemma returned to ignoring me, so I mumbled replies to Nash’s questions, though I couldn’t remember what he asked. Eventually, the two marauders stood up, packed away the food and told me to get some sleep. All I did was nod.
When I was left alone, I plucked the silver chain around my throat and held up the skeleton key. I turned it against the light of the kerosene lamps, still not seeing what was so special or important about it. My mother seemed convinced that I would use it to help the steadily dying survivors. How was I supposed to do that when my mother had left me no instructions, and the very mention of my parents made colonists cringe in anger?
I tucked the key back under my shirt and decided that it didn’t matter. The only thing I could do now was rescue Abby, and maybe bring down the Behemoth. Anything else was asking too much.
Like Sawyer, there were some things I just wasn’t prepared to deal with, and some secrets that belonged to me alone.
Chapter 5
Unlike the marauders, I wasn’t able to sleep that night. While they rested, I wandered around the air hangar and looked for materials to build some more flashbangs. Their construction was easy, if you had all the materials. There wasn’t much in the hangar that I could use, so I was only able to build two. Still, it was two more than I had before.
True to his word, Sawyer led us out of the hangar as soon as they’d strapped their weapons to their belts. Gemma surprised me by allowing me to use her battered, forest grey messenger bag, but Sawyer refused to let me have any weapons other than my flashbangs and pocketknife. He claimed that he trusted me about as much as I trusted him. I was ready to argue, especially when I he told me to leave the Volt behind, but decided against it when I saw the dark bags under his eyes. He didn’t seem to have slept, either.
The best way to get to the Junkyard was to walk. Even if all the sloops and smaller ships hadn’t been shot down during The Storm, the risk of flying was too dangerous. The Hellions would see a ship from the Behemoth and instantly send a raiding skiff to destroy it. I’d seen countless ships try to evacuate past the barricades. It was rumored that a few had made it, but I’d never seen them. Rumors weren’t always truths.
Luckily, the South Junkyard wasn’t far from the ports. A couple hours of walking through crushed machineries and broken factories, combined with another hour of checking and double-checking that the Hellions weren’t coming down for another morning raid, we arrived at our destination.
The Junkyard was the only area in Westraven that had been a mess before the Hellions attacked in The Storm. Mountains of scrap metal sat next to piles of broken wood. Hollowed out airships were covered with trash I could barely recognize. A soft breeze pushed sand over our feet as we approached the gate. I looked past the thick chicken wire fence, trying to see if any Junkers were in the yard.
The Junkers were isolated men and women who willingly lived aboveground. The attacks from The Storm had damaged their minds. The Junkers were erratic and twitchy, and I never liked dealing with them. The slightest provocation could startle them enough to put a knife in my back.
“Looks empty,” Sawyer commented from my side.
“They usually stay inside,” I explained, “even when they know Garnet’s people are coming. But we should get in and out quickly.”
