02 Masked-New World

by Stalder, Janelle

  The elevator doors were being held open by another soldier when they reached it. Roman rushed into the elevator behind him, his body all but shaking with energy. She gave him a quick once over, before looking ahead. “You might want to put on a shirt.”

  Utter chaos, she thought as she looked at the now burning building. Massive debris from the building littered the street. Glass from the windows sparkled along the pavement like crystalized droplets of snow. Soldiers stood on the other side of the street, watching as the fire continued to burn. There wasn’t much they could do until the flames were under control.

  Bridgette exited the SUV, the heat from the fire hitting her in the face the moment she did. It was difficult to take a deep breath with all the smoke in the air. “This is bad,” she said to herself.

  “There’s an understatement,” Roman said, coming up to stand beside her. “Has anyone checked to see if people were inside when the explosion went off?” he asked someone else.

  “No, sir. We haven’t entered the building, and if there was anyone inside, they haven’t made contact.”

  Probably because they were dead, Bridgette thought with a heavy heart.

  “There was a group of ten men who came by with Miss Greystone,” another man said. Bridgette figured he was referring to Eve.

  “Are they all accounted for?” Roman asked.

  The man shook his head once.

  A loud crack came before another window blew outward from the intense heat, spraying them with tiny shards of glass. Bridgette ducked just as she felt Roman cover her body with his. They waited a second before straightening again.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her frantically. He raised his hand, picking off bits of glass that stuck to her shoulders.

  “I’m fine,” she said, reaching up to grab a shard from his hair. The strands were soft and silky against her skin. When their eyes met, her hand still twined in his locks, it felt like they were once more in that little bubble that seemed to encase them in these stolen moments.

  “Stay out here and away from the building in case that happens again,” he said.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, panic rising in her chest.

  “I’m going inside to look for them,” he answered. “The guns were in the basement. I’m hoping they were able to lock all the safety doors put in place. Hopefully the steel kept out most of the fire.”

  “You can’t go in there!” she argued. “The damn thing is still burning. And what if it collapses?” Her hand dropped to his shoulder, gripping the firm muscle there.

  “I have ten men in there, plus a woman who a certain ally of ours would be severely pissed about if he found out she was dead. I can’t stand out here and wait for the fire to burn out. They could be dead by then from the smoke alone.”

  She balked, stammering for something to say that would reach through his thick skull. “So you’re just going to risk your own life for the small chance those people inside there have survived? That’s madness!”

  “They’re my men in there, Lottey. I don’t turn my back on what is mine, no matter the risk. I’d do the same for you.”

  She was left speechless, not that he gave her the opportunity to reply as he turned and jogged away, shouting out orders to a small group of soldiers.

  “You okay here, X?” the soldier who was still standing beside her asked. She hadn’t even noticed him there that entire time.

  Bridgette nodded. “I’m fine. Go on and help him.” He gave her a quick nod before joining Roman’s search party.

  Standing there, watching Roman walk into a blazing building with those purposeful, confident strides, like even flames wouldn’t be able to touch him, was probably the worst moment of her life. Part of her wanted to run in there after him. The other part wanted to cheer him on, awestruck by the dedication he showed to looking after his men. Roman Adamson had more heart than he let on, and Bridgette was finally beginning to see it. Knowing he might not come back out made her sick to her stomach.

  “Don’t let him die,” she whispered to whatever deity chose to listen.

  Her eyes were trained on the entrance to the building where Roman and the others had disappeared into, so she didn’t notice the two figures who stepped up behind her until it was too late. Hands grasped her arms firmly, pulling her back toward an alleyway. Bridgette gasped in surprise.

  “Don’t scream,” a man whispered.

  Oh, she wouldn’t scream, Bridgette thought. But she sure as heck wasn’t going without a fight. She wrenched her arm out of the person’s grasp, spinning so she had their other arm still holding her wrapped around hers in a restraining hold. Then she slammed the palm of her hand into their nose eliciting a grunt and curse.

  “What the –” the other figure said, who Bridgette discovered was female from their higher voice.

  Bridgette stomped down on their foot hard enough for them to let go of her finally, just as the other person approached her, hands out non-threateningly. The man recovered fast, moving forward again, but Bridgette was ready, sweeping out her leg quickly, tripping him in his movement. He stumbled, cursing again.

  “Bridge, stop,” he said, causing her to freeze at the familiarity. “It’s me, Seamus.”

  “Seamus?” she gasped.

  “Yeah,” he said wearily. “Thanks for almost breaking my nose.” Black masks covered their faces, but she recognized his voice.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Getting you out of here, what does it look like?”

  “I can’t,” she argued. “My father has Charlotte.”

  “We have her,” the girl said.

  “We need to get you out of here before any one notices,” Seamus urged.

  A loud crack sounded again just as another part of the building exploded. The three of them ducked instinctively. Bridgette turned to look at the building just as more pieces of it came crashing to the ground. Her heart stopped. Roman. She needed to get in there and make sure he was okay. Adrenaline pumped through her as she took a step toward the building.

  “Bridge, come on!” Seamus yelled over the roaring of renewed flames.

  “I can’t,” she said, disbelief at her own decisions running through her head. What was she doing? She wondered as she took another step forward. This was her chance to escape, and yet she knew in her heart that she wasn’t going to be leaving with them. She needed to go to Roman. Every bone in her body screamed for her to.

  “What do you mean you can’t?” Seamus cried.

  “What does she mean she can’t?” the girl mirrored.

  Bridgette started to run, ignoring them as they called out to her. As if by some unknown force her eyes looked to the left down another alley, where she met bright blue eyes so similar to hers it was like a physical ache to see them watching her in confusion and horror. Her sister stayed hidden, but watched as Bridgette ran from those she’d sent to save her. There was no excuse she could offer even if it were possible through that one look.

  Turning forward, she sped up, racing for the front entrance. Suddenly a sharp pain hit her arm. She stopped, looking down in bewilderment at the dart sticking out of her. She blinked slowly, her vision clouding over, the sounds of men and the burning building fading away into nothing but muffled fog. Her head rose, feeling heavy suddenly, as she looked around, everything suddenly moving in slow motion.

  There was a weird roaring sound behind her, and then a quick scraping before two hands grabbed her roughly and pulled her back into a small space. Her body hit metal, voices called out instructions in loud, panicked voices, before that scraping sound came again and suddenly she was moving. She felt like she was floating. Black metal filled her vision as she looked up, her mind desperately trying to grasp what was going on. The voices around her were too muffled to understand, and her eyes kept closing on their own even though she demanded they stay open. She lost the fight, blackness washing over her, pulling her down into an abyss she tried to kick and fight her wa
y out of. Then she was out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Well that didn’t go as I expected,” Phoenix said when they were all gathered back at the house.

  Charlotte paced the room, her hands shaking with rage. Someone – not them – had just come out of nowhere and grabbed her sister, throwing her into a black van before driving off. Charlotte could do nothing but watch in horror, knowing that if she stepped out from the alley the New World soldiers would see her. Even they couldn’t stop the van, despite shooting at it the entire time it was in sight. Useless tools.

  How had everything gone to shit so quickly? The front door banged open just as she thought that. Seamus and Lake walked in, their faces just as shocked as the rest of them.

  “What the hell happened?” Charlotte demanded.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Pete said, his jaw clenched in anger. She knew he was just as angry as she was.

  “I wouldn’t mind knowing the same,” Seamus said, throwing his mask down on the coffee table.

  “I thought your sister was a dancer,” Lake said, running a hand through her massive curls, “not bloody karate kid.”

  “She almost broke my damn nose,” Seamus complained.

  “No one gives a rat’s ass about your nose, Seamus!” Charlotte snapped.

  “Seriously, mate,” Pete said. “What the hell went on out there?”

  Seamus threw his hands up in the air. “I have no idea! We went to get her, and then she went all crazy kung-fu on me trying to get away.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her who you were?” Charlotte said, seething.

  “I did! She wouldn’t come with us.”

  “Well this makes no sense,” Phoenix said, flopping down in a chair. “Are you sure your sister hasn’t crossed over to the dark side?”

  “Of course not,” Charlotte scoffed.

  “That’s not Bridgette,” Trent supported. “She’s one of the kindest souls I know.”

  Phoenix snickered.

  “Guess you wouldn’t know much about souls since you don’t have one, huh Princess?” Trent said. Phoenix narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Not now you two,” Pete said. “We need to find Bridgette now. I’m sure we can all guess who it was who took her.”

  Charlotte sat down, burying her face in her hands. Why would her father take Bridgette back? He was the whole reason she was in the New World camp to begin with. None of this made sense. Was he going to use her as a hostage to get Charlotte back? The thought made her blood run cold, because she knew without a doubt she’d do it. She’d return to him in a heartbeat if it meant Bridge would be safe.

  She felt Pete sit next to her, his familiar smell invading her senses. His warm hand wrapped around the back of her neck in a supportive hold.

  “There’s no way we can go after the van,” Trent said. “The New World soldiers were already scattering to go after them. We can’t get mixed up in all that if we want to stay hidden.”

  “Well at least one good thing came from all this,” Sam said as she stood leaning against the wall.

  Charlotte looked up. “And what would that be?”

  Sam shrugged. “At least now they’ll for sure think the explosion was your father’s doing. No one is going to think twice about it.”

  Tyler grunted. “She has a point.”

  “Good job on the explosives, Pixie,” Phoenix said.

  The small girl smiled in thanks. Charlotte didn’t think she’d heard the girl speak once since they arrived.

  “Yeah, not bad, squirt,” Garrett said, patting her on the head like a child. Pixie only rolled her eyes. Charlotte would have punched him in the gut for that.

  “Why would she be running back to that building?” Pete said, leaning back to rest his head on the back of the couch.

  “Because of Roman,” Charlotte said, knowing in her heart she was right. She’d seen it in her sister’s eyes when they looked at each other. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew Bridgette was going back to make sure he was okay. Even Charlotte’s heart had jumped when she’d seen him enter the building. Despite what had happened between them recently, Charlotte still cared for him. It was clear her sister felt the same. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, but the part of her that had grown to know and care for Roman over the past five years understood.

  “I’ll kill that wanker,” Seamus said.

  Charlotte looked at Pete’s closest friend and saw the genuine hate there. Since Roman had ordered Seamus to be beaten, he hadn’t been the same carefree, fun person he once was. She hoped whatever bitterness was inside him would soon dissipate so he could go back to the way he used to be. Still, she understood his hatred for Roman. She didn’t like it, but she understood it.

  “No one is killing anyone until we find Bridgette and get her back to safety,” Pete said.

  “And how do you propose we do that?” Phoenix asked.

  Well isn’t that the million dollar question, Charlotte thought.

  Her mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls. She could hear the engine of whatever vehicle she’d been thrown into. The floor beneath her was still moving, her body jarred every time they drove over a bump in the road. They were still driving. How long had she been out? And where was she being taken to? There weren’t many options, considering everything was monitored by New World soldiers. Was it possible they were out of the city already?

  They hit another bump causing the back of her head to smack against the floor. She groaned from the impact.

  “She’s coming around,” one of the men said.

  “That’s not possible. I put enough drugs in that dart to put her out for hours,” someone answered.

  Bridgette opened her eyes then closed them immediately against the nausea that rolled through her stomach and up her throat. Please don’t be sick, she begged. She hated vomiting.

  “I’m telling you, she’s awake. I just saw her open her eyes.”

  “Shit,” another voice said. “It must be the treatments. Her body is probably working it out of her system faster than a normal person would.”

  Treatments? What the heck were these guys talking about? She opened her mouth to say something, but only got out a moan when sickness washed over her again. She wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from throwing up soon.

  “Give her another shot,” one of them ordered. “It will last till we get to the General.”

  She could hear someone moving around in the back with her. The opening and closing of a case, the click of something that she guessed was them readying another dart in the shooter. She wanted to beg them not to, but her mind was still having trouble focusing. Why was her father doing this? It didn’t make sense. And what were these treatments?

  “Shit!”

  Breaks squealed loudly and her body was thrown forward until she hit something hard and metal. The van swerved sharply to the left, sending her across the floor again into another metal surface.

  “What the hell is going on?” the man in the back yelled.

  “We’ve got trouble.”

  The loud bang of shots being fired came from beyond the van. Pings echoed in the vehicle as the bullets hit. Suddenly there was a loud popping sound, and the van went out of control, veering left and right violently.

  “Damn it! They shot the back tire.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  They were scared, Bridgette thought. Why did that thought make her feel slightly better? She curled into a ball just as the van came to a stop. Her nausea was overwhelming, but if she just stayed in this position she might be able to get control over it.

  “Get your guns!”

  More shots from outside rang out and Bridgette curled in on herself tighter.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re sitting ducks in here, man!”

  “Relax,” the third guy ordered, obviously the one in charge. “They just want the girl.”

  “We can’t go back there without her,” one
of them argued. “The General will have our asses if we do.”

  “It’s either deal with his shit when we get back, or deal with the NWO soldiers now. Let me just make this very clear for you, we won’t be going anywhere if we stay here and wait for them to come get us. Understand? If we give them the girl, it might give us a chance to get away.”

  “On three tires?” one of them asked.

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Fuck,” the one in the back with her said, slamming, what she supposed, was his hand on the side of the van. “He’s right. We need to get out of here. If we keep her, they’ll never stop chasing us.”

  Before she knew what was happening, the door to the van was pulled open, the fresh air from outside hitting her face like a welcomed caress. Bridgette breathed it in deeply, her stomach already starting to settle.

  “We’ll get you eventually,” the guy whispered in her ear. Then he shoved her from behind and the next thing she knew she was falling. Her body slammed onto the hard ground. The side of her arm scraped against the rocks and pebbles there. Thankfully she managed to keep her head from slamming into the concrete as well. The van door slammed shut behind her, and tires squealed loudly from close by before she heard them take off. Multiple vehicles stopped not far from her. She could hear someone yelling for one car to follow the van, while the rest of them took care of her.

  The crunching of boots came next as they approached where she lay.

  “X? You okay?” a familiar voice called out a second before she felt their touch.

  Bridgette opened her eyes slowly, blinking back against the light, until her vision cleared. Xavier crouched beside her, concern etched on his face. “I’m fine,” she croaked.

  He flinched. “You don’t sound find. Did they hurt you?”

  She tried to shake her head, but it only made her feel worse. “Just shot me with some sort of dart to knock me out.”

  “Did they say why they took you?”