02 Masked-New World

by Stalder, Janelle

  After one attack, in which Roman tried to swipe beneath her legs to trip her, and that Bridgette easily avoided, she noticed an opening for her own attack. This whole time she had been concentrating on defense. It was time to go on the offense. As she jumped in the air, Roman’s leg met nothing as it grazed the floor beneath her. She spun, her left leg coming out and connecting with his side so forcefully that he ended up sprawled on the floor.

  What the heck? How had she just managed that? The whole thing felt like it was in slow motion, but it had been so quick it only lasted a second. She stood in shock for a moment before breaking out into laughter. It bubbled up so unexpectedly, there was no stopping it. She, Bridgette Hatcher, just knocked down the big and powerful Roman Adamson! She felt invigorated and unbeatable.

  Her laughter still filling the space, she jumped around in a victory dance, not caring that Roman watched her from his position on the floor with an amused grin on his face.

  “Are you about finished?” he asked.

  “Not even close,” she answered, jumping around like a child. “I won!” She laughed. “I beat you, Roman Adamson. Ha!” She stopped, breathing a bit quicker now that she’d just danced around like an idiot. She stood with her hands on her hips, a ridiculous grin still plastered on her face.

  Roman watched her carefully, no longer smiling. “Take off the mask.”

  “No,” she said instantly, her body stiffening.

  He wanted to see her. Never once, in all the years he’d known Lottey, had he ever seen her act this carefree. Not only that, but she had actually managed to knock him on his ass. He was genuinely impressed, and then some. Her movements were faster than he’d ever seen. Lottey was never a good fighter, unless she used her mind reading abilities to hear what her opponent meant to do next. But he knew she wasn’t doing that now. She had promised a long time ago never to invade his mind, and he trusted her to keep that promise.

  What she was demonstrating now was simply skill, something he never knew she possessed. It left him in awe. If only someone else had been the one to fight her, then he would have been able to just stand back and watch the thing from the sidelines. Her movements were graceful and fluid, like she was performing a dance. It took every ounce of concentration and discipline for him to stay focused and continue his attacks, rather than step back and just simply watch.

  Then to see her jump around in unrestrained joy…he had no words for how he felt. It scared him a little. This was his little Lottey, not some girl he should be lusting after. It wasn’t even just that he found her absolutely stunning in that moment, but he was drawn to the energy that seemed to be pulsating from her. It was new, something he’d never sensed from Lottey before. It pulled him to her like a physical force that he had to fight against.

  To see such lightness in a time of constant dark was like a breath of fresh air. What happened to make her like this all of a sudden? The only time he’d ever seen her really happy was when she was with the rebel. Roman stilled. That was the change. She found someone who finally opened her heart to more than just death and destruction. That’s all Roman had given her. That’s all he’d given anyone. He doubted he had a speck of light left in him. But watching Charlotte gloat adorably, prancing around the gym, made him hope, for the first time in so many years, that he might be able to find happiness one day too.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What did you find out?” Trent asked as Tyler entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “The city is crawling with soldiers,” he answered, “more so than usual. They’re searching for us, all of us. If any of us step foot in our neighbourhood, we’re as good as dead.”

  “Well isn’t that great,” Garrett muttered. Seamus grunted, his face impassive. Charlotte looked at him for a moment, wondering what it was that she found so odd about him. His eyes met hers for only a second, blinking once, before looking away again. They were empty, void of any of the laughter or joy that had been there before. Seamus was that one person who could brighten the mood in a room with a simple look or word. Now he was reserved and quiet, his posture stiff and cold.

  Charlotte prayed the change she saw in him wasn’t a permanent one. For someone like Seamus to be broken at the hands of those she used to work for would be a tragedy.

  “Where does that leave us?” said Trent.

  “Screwed,” answered one of the men she didn’t know.

  “They won’t be looking for me,” Charlotte pointed out.

  “Jesus! Not this again,” Pete said, throwing up one of his hands in exasperation. He turned to face her again. “Charlotte, get this through your head now – You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Understood?”

  “Boy, you have a lot to learn about women,” Michael murmured just before she spoke.

  “You. Do. Not. Get. To. Tell. Me. Where. I. Can. Go. Understood?” They glared at each other.

  “Lass, you should listen to him. There are more soldiers there than I’ve ever seen. I almost got caught a number of times. It’s no place for a woman,” Tyler said.

  Charlotte looked to Michael for some reason, only to see him already watching her, wearing an amused smile. “I think they’re all doomed,” he said to her. She couldn’t help but agree. Who did these guys think they were, telling her what to do? If she wanted to get up and go save her sister, she damn well would! Just to prove a point, she stood up, only to find herself pushed back down by two strong hands a second later.

  Pete bent over her, already on his feet, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, locking her in. “I will tie you down, I swear it.” His eyes told her he was serious.

  “If it was one of your siblings in there, you’d be acting the same way I am,” she argued.

  “Of course. But not if the situation was too dangerous to ensure we all got out. That would just be stupidity. I’m not stupid, love. And neither are you.” He stared at her for a moment longer, communicating with his eyes that she should not challenge him again. Surprisingly she remained quiet. Normally she would have continued to fight, but she didn’t like fighting with Pete. She had just gotten him back, there was no way she was going to push him away again. That and she knew he was right. Charlotte had the tendency to run head-on into situations without considering all the risks. She knew going after Bridgette was dangerous for the both of them, even though every instinct in her screamed for her to do just that. Charlotte gave Pete a quick nod of concession.

  “Good,” he said. He stood and turned to face the large Scotsman. Tyler had been the one to find her when her father held her captive. The first sight of him had her backing up in fear. It wasn’t that he was physically intimidating, although he was quite large and brawny, and the tattoos that ran up both arms and even onto the sides of his head were a bit scary. No, it was the cold look in his eyes that had made her take a step back; eyes of a clear green that held no warmth when he looked at you. She knew he was a nice guy, but he certainly came across a bit menacing.

  “What do we do?” he asked, looking around the room.

  “Well we can’t all stay cooped up here,” Trent said. “I’ll end up killing one of you for sure, and I have no doubt that when the coast is clear, Douglas will be making a visit here. I’m sure he’s already guessed where we’d go. And I’m sure he’s not pleased we have your girl.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks warmed at his words. Not that she was embarrassed, it was just strange to hear other people call her Pete’s girl. For a while there, she thought she’d never be with him again. She was convinced she had finally fallen in love, only to have it ripped away again.

  “He won’t be able to get here with the patrols out in full force,” Tyler confirmed.

  “Where do you think he is?” Pete said.

  “Douglas always had a number of safe houses,” Michael answered, getting up and stretching out his back. “He could be anywhere. Although, I think it would be a safe bet to say he’s probably still in the city. He would have stayed close, because of the girls. We’ll ha
ve to use this time to our advantage.”

  Charlotte was suddenly thankful that Pete’s father’s house was on the outskirts of the city. Initially she had been pissed that she was so far from where Bridgette was, but it looked like it had been a blessing in disguise. If they were still in the centre of the eastern ghetto, they would have been confined to one building, and in more danger of being discovered by either one of their enemies.

  Michael walked by her, heading into the kitchen. “Tea, darling?” he called out.

  “Sure,” Garrett answered.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Garrett smiled at her, winking. “Yes, thank you,” she replied, raising her voice so he could hear her.

  “I’ll have one too, da,” Pete added.

  “I wasn’t talking to you either,” came his reply.

  “Only Charlotte gets refreshments around here?” Pete asked, hands splayed in mock outrage.

  “Yup,” Michael answered, poking his head out. “She’s the best looking out of you lot.”

  Charlotte giggled, liking the way Pete’s father seemed to embrace her easily. He didn’t judge her for who, or what, she had been before. He just accepted her for who she was now. It warmed her. No one had ever been like that – well, except Pete. She looked up at him. She loved him so much, it sometimes felt like her heart would burst from the emotion. He looked down to catch her gaze, and a slow smile stretched across his face. He leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear.

  “I love you too,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe.

  “How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked, breathing in his familiar scent.

  “Maybe I can read minds now too,” he said, pulling back to look at her.

  She scrunched up her nose in disbelief.

  He chuckled softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Your eyes say it all, love.” He kissed her forehead then stood up again.

  “I have an idea, but we’ll need to figure out the specifics of it,” Michael said from the kitchen.

  “What do you have in mind?” Pete asked, sitting on the arm of the chair. His hand splayed across the nape of her neck, playing absently with her hair.

  “There’s another group over in the western ghetto, they call themselves the Archers. They’re like us, focused on repairing our world and getting rid of Ludwig and his New World army,” Michael answered.

  “Why haven’t we heard about them then?” Trent asked.

  “They like to work alone,” he said, poking his head out from the kitchen briefly before disappearing again. “They’ve known about us this whole time, but they didn’t want to get involved. We’re too indiscreet, apparently.”

  “Says who?” Pete defended.

  “Says them. All I know is that they’ve wanted nothing to do with us when we were under the General. From the impression I got, they weren’t fond of him. I think Douglas tried to recruit them before. They don’t take kindly to people trying to order them around. That’s a warning for you.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Trent said.

  “We should tell them we’re on our own, and ask for refuge until our territory isn’t so infested with soldiers,” Tyler suggested before Michael could respond.

  “And how do we get from here to the western ghetto?” Pete asked.

  “Or inside, for that matter,” Trent added.

  “Well, those would be the details we’d have to work out,” Michael answered.

  “Great,” Seamus muttered.

  Pete sighed. “We can’t even get into the ghetto on this side of the city, Da. What makes you think we’re going to be able to get all the way across it to another?”

  “Their eyes are over here, they’re not going to be looking for us over there. It’s a viable option,” Tyler pointed out.

  “How would we contact them to see if they’d even let us stay there?” Trent questioned.

  “I’ll phone Harvey and ask,” Michael said, appearing suddenly with a steaming cup of tea. Charlotte took it from him with thanks.

  “Who in the devil is Harvey?” Garrett asked, his brows puckered in confusion.

  “The original Archer,” Michael replied as if that were obvious. “He’s too old to take part in much now, but I’m sure once he knows it’s my boys coming over, he’ll be more than happy to keep you lot safe. Well, until one of yas opens his mouth.”

  “Do you think they’ll work with us?” Charlotte asked, looking up at him.

  “. The fact that we’re no longer following the General will work in our favour. Doesn’t mean they’ll team up with us for sure, but it’s a good start.”

  “We still have to figure out how we’re going to get there,” Pete reminded them.

  “How do you boys feel about coffins?”

  As soon as she closed her eyes, Tommy Boy was there. Images of his lifeless eyes, the pool of blood, the loud echoing of the shot – it was all waiting for her as she tried to fall asleep. Giving up, Bridgette shoved off her covers with a huff. She wasn’t cut out for this sort of life. She couldn’t watch people be shot to death in front of her, and just continue on as though nothing happened. Tommy Boy might have been a rat, but he was still a person. A person who hadn’t deserved to be killed.

  He tried to kill you, she reminded herself. That didn’t make his loss any easier, or justifiable, in her mind. How could Charlotte have done this for so long? It was no wonder she was hardened now, more than ever before. Bridgette hadn’t spent much time with her before coming here, but she had seen enough to know that her sister had changed in many ways. Just watching her mouth off to their father while he ordered another man to beat her had proven to Bridgette that her little sister had grown up into a hard-edged woman.

  What had life been like for her, growing up through her teenage years with only Roman and Ludwig to offer her guidance? Bridgette had so many questions when it came to her sister, but she wouldn’t have the chance to ask them if she didn’t complete her father’s plan. There was no doubt in her mind that Douglas Hatcher wouldn’t even blink if it came to killing his youngest daughter.

  She looked over at the duffle bag sitting in the corner of her room. Inside it was a bomb the size of a small electronic apparatus with enough power to destroy more than half the building. Her father had told her to either set it in the basement or up on the roof. Either choice would offer plenty of destruction. She was not to put it in the actual room, she was told. He was afraid they’d scan the room for any bugs before the meeting. Apparently the device would show up on such a scan.

  How anyone could get in to plant a device was beyond her – well, except she was going to do it. Her situation was slightly different though. If it wasn’t for the disguise of Weapon X, she’d never have gotten into this building. It had more soldiers securing it than she thought necessary, but it definitely made it hard for enemies to infiltrate it.

  With all this in mind, she decided she might as well get some work done if she couldn’t sleep. The clock said it was two in the morning. Hopefully she could wear off some energy to the point where she’d just crash without her mind going over that day’s horrible events.

  Donning her mask and black clothes, minus boots and the tape she wore to flatten her chest, she headed out of her room. There weren’t very many people walking the halls at this time of night, so she felt safe to venture out the way she was. No one would see her anyway, where she was going.

  It took a while to find them, but eventually Bridgette found the stairs that led up to the roof area. By the time she got there, she was out of breath. Climbing that many floors definitely left a burn in her thighs and calves. She wasn’t sure if the door would lock behind her, so just to be safe she placed a brick that happened to be near it in the opening.

  Walking to the edge of the building, she sucked in a breath at the view waiting for her. New Berlin – all of it. The city lay beneath her, as far as the eye could see. The high fences separating the upper section from the ghettos chopped
the city into pieces, creating almost an octagon shape that surrounded the inner city where the buildings weren’t quite as run down, and the people weren’t as repressed. There was the eastern and western ghetto, but both areas curved, hugging that upper section around the outside, their areas dark and ugly looking in comparison.

  Electricity wasn’t as readily available in those areas, the old street posts no longer shining down on the shiny black surfaces of the wet pavement. Lights in open windows of houses still habitable flickered, not from bulbs, but from the candles they were forced to use in substitution. So many buildings were nothing but shadows, their walls crumbled and destroyed, no longer safe for people to live in.

  Her eyes moved away from the area that had been her home only last week, and looked to the western ghetto, only to see much of the same thing. She didn’t know much about that side of the city, but she knew they weren’t much better off.

  Both areas surrounded the jewel that was downtown New Berlin. She scanned her closer surroundings, admiring how the buildings had been re-built and repaired to look just as they had before the war. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought the horror of bombs and gunfire had never touched this area of the world. It was as though a protective shield had surrounded it, saving the buildings there from being destroyed to nothing but rubble.

  But she knew better. This area had taken just as big a hit. Ludwig Tennebris set about reconstructing it almost immediately. The results were amazing, the people in blissful ignorance of what the world had really become. They lived as though nothing had changed, even though more than half the world’s population was now dead, and those still alive lived poorly. Did they care? She didn’t think so. Not once had she come across an Upper willing to help those who lived beyond those fences separating the city. Even the ones she had met while dancing at the Red Lounge didn’t care that when she went home at night, it wasn’t to a comfortable apartment in a safe neighbourhood. No, it was to a small, rundown room in a building that looked as if a strong wind could blow it over.