Boots crunched on gravel, and a door clanked shut. A shadow moved across the ground on the far side of the truck. Voices drifted through the rain, but they were too indistinct for Leah to make out.
Blood pounded in Leah’s ears as her thundering heart tried its best to rip itself loose from its moorings. She cursed at herself. If she hadn’t been asleep, she might have had time to get away. Maybe she could still sneak out of the shed? Panic tickled the back of Leah’s neck, and she almost bolted right there and then. She shook her head. Even if she got away, she didn’t have her boots or her jacket. She was cornered, like a rat.
A second vehicle arrived, its tires crunching over gravel. As it pulled across her line of sight, Leah’s heart sank. It was a Jeep, the Transport Authority logo clearly visible on the door as it passed. The Jeep’s brakes squeaked as it came to a halt. Doors opened and closed. Footsteps on gravel.
“What are they doing here?” thought Leah. “The place has burned down.”
The thought that they might be looking for her hit Leah like a freight train. She gasped and pulled away from the gap in the door. Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and she could make out the shape of the barrels in the corner. Was there room for her to hide behind them? She couldn’t remember if there was space there.
A woman’s voice cut through the noise of the rain for a moment. “Need to find cover before…”
Leah moved across the shed toward the barrels. She swept her hands around in front of her, at knee height, to avoid tripping over anything. Her fingers brushed canvas—her jacket, left out to dry. She grabbed it and felt her way around the barrels until she’d put them between her and the door. The wind let out a howl as it forced its way through a gap beneath the shed roof. Leah jumped a little.
The voices outside got louder. Leah caught another snippet, and the words sent ice racing down her spine.
“Search that shed. Bring out anything useful.”
Leah crouched lower behind the barrels. She was too tall. No matter how she positioned herself, her stupid arms or legs stuck out. She wedged her backpack between one of the barrels and the wall. It was almost out of sight, and it was slightly easier for her to maneuver without it in her arms.
“Lock’s been broken,” called a man. “Looks recent.”
Leah’s hands were shaking. Maybe she should make a break for it when they opened the door, surprise them.
Wood scraped across earth, and the door swung open. Leah ducked down.
“It’s a storage shed,” shouted the man. Then, quieter, he said, “You got a flashlight?”
Someone grunted the affirmative, and a few seconds later light swept across the shed. Leah tensed.
The man let out a deep-throated chuckle. “Looks like we may have hit the mother lode.”
“That’ll keep us going until Oakdale,” said a second voice. This one had a Southern twang to it.
Leah held her breath and pulled her muscles tight, trying to shrink even smaller. Footsteps echoed around the shed. Light played across the wall beside Leah. Fingers tapped against metal.
“Sounds empt—”
Leah ran.
She caught the man by surprise, darting past him before he had a chance to react. She saw a flash of silver as she passed—the Transport insignia on his chest. The doorway was a pale rectangle, tantalizingly close. Leah lowered her head and charged toward it.
Hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground.
“Whoa there, where do you think you’re going?”
Leah kicked out. Her heel connected with something hard.
“Ah goddammit!”
The arms around her waist tightened, making it hard to breathe. The man holding her was huge. His arms felt like some sort of giant snake wrapped around her. A snake made of iron.
The man lifted her higher off the ground and began walking her outside. “Stop struggling; you aren’t going anywhere.”
Leah twisted in the man’s grip—a fruitless act of defiance she doubted he’d even notice.
He had to duck as they passed through the doorway. “Mind your head.”
The rain had intensified while Leah slept, and it hit her like a sheet of ice the moment they stepped outside. There were three vehicles—the truck and two Jeeps. All three of them were marked with the Transport Authority logo.
A woman stood by the nearest Jeep. She was wearing a dark green poncho, and her hat was covered with an equally green plastic protector. Even without seeing her uniform, Leah could tell she was in charge. There was something about the way the other three soldiers held themselves. That and the fact their uniforms were exposed to the elements.
“Looks like we found a stray, Captain,” said the man with the Southern accent as he carried Leah over to the Jeep. He released Leah and let her stand, but placed his huge, bear-like hands on her shoulders, pinning her in place. Water seeped through Leah’s socks.
“What’s your name, girl?” said the captain. Her voice was harsh, the words laced with aggression.
Leah swallowed but didn’t speak. The captain’s face looked familiar, just a little.
The captain’s jaw tightened.
The hands on Leah’s shoulder squeezed slightly—not enough to hurt, just some subtle “encouragement.”
Leah kept the lie small. “Leah Dennison.”
Her voice sounded so tiny she thought the rain might wash it away, but the captain nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Where do you live? Are you from New Leighton?”
At the words, Leah realized where she knew the captain from. She’d been leading the attack on the town. Leah was sure of it.
Leah shook her head. “I don’t have a home,” said Leah, and the familiar stab of pain and regret pierced her heart.
The captain’s eyebrows rose. “None at all? So you’re just sleeping rough?”
“Yes.”
The first man appeared from the shed. He was carrying Leah’s jacket and her boots but not her backpack. He showed the items to the captain.
The captain sniffed. “You must have come from somewhere.”
Leah opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by another woman’s voice.
“She’s a Wild One.”
The woman was behind Leah, but the voice was familiar somehow. She struggled to place it. And then the woman stepped into view. Leah’s heart stuttered when she saw the scar running down the woman’s face. It was Katherine—her father’s murderer.
7
The world tilted on its axis, and Leah choked off a cry. What was Katherine doing here? How had she survived the blast? Leah tensed, fighting back the urge to throw herself on Katherine and choke the life out of her.
Katherine walked over to the captain. “I’ve seen her with a local clan.”
“One of ours?”
“Yes.”
The captain gave Katherine a skeptical look.
“Dennison doesn’t sound like a Wild One name.”
Katherine gave Leah a hard look. “Probably a lie.”
“True, those people can’t really help it, can they?”
The corner of Katherine’s mouth curved up into a halfhearted smile.
“Anything we should be concerned about in the girl’s coat, Jenkins?” said the captain.
“No, sir, and nothing in the shed apart from some empty beer barrels.”
The captain eyed Leah, a thoughtful look on her face. Leah tried to look harmless, willing the soldiers to believe Katherine’s story.
Eventually, the captain nodded.
Jenkins held out Leah’s boots and jacket. The other man’s grip on Leah’s shoulder loosened.
Leah stood there, questions whirling through her mind. Jenkins jiggled the boots in front of her face. Leah took them and dropped them onto the ground, then took the jacket and slipped it on. The rain had soaked her T-shirt, and a chill ran through her as she zipped up the jacket. The boots and her wet socks made an even less pleasant combination. She put them on anyway.<
br />
When she looked up from tying up her boots, the captain was watching her. Katherine had moved away, and a soldier had taken her place. He held his pistol in his hand.
The captain looked at Katherine. “You’re sure you know her?”
“I’ve seen her with Jax, yes.”
The captain’s gaze returned to Leah. The soldier standing beside her shifted position. Leah opened her mouth to protest, to plead for her life, but something in the captain’s eyes cut her off. They were cold, the eyes of a ruthless woman that wouldn’t be swayed by a young girl’s pleas, no matter how heartfelt.
Leah stayed quiet. She clenched her fists to stop them shaking, either from cold or the fear threatening to overwhelm her. Rain dripped from the brim of the captain’s hat.
“Get out of here,” said the captain.
Leah’s eyes widened in shock. She stood, rooted to the spot until Jenkins leaned forward and said, “You’d better do as she said.”
The words broke the spell trapping Leah’s boots in the mud, and she turned and ran.
By the time Leah reached the forest, her lungs were screaming and the muscles in her legs burned. The blood rushing in her ears drowned out any sounds of pursuit, but Leah could hear them anyway. Her imagination filled the air with shouts and gunfire as the Transport soldiers closed in around her. Executed her. She threw herself through the brush at the edge of the trees, stumbled and fell and crashed to the ground.
The earth beneath Leah’s cheek was cool and moist. She pressed her face against it, savoring its touch. Her chest hitched as she dragged in great gulping breaths. The air smelled of earth and plants and rain. It was the sweetest thing she’d ever smelled.
The minutes slipped over Leah. The pounding in her head began to subside, washed away by the cold rain filtering through the forest canopy. She lifted her head. The world didn’t spin or fade to black. Carefully, hesitantly, she stood. Her legs didn’t give way.
She was in a clearing just beyond the tree line. The brush she’d burst through had closed up behind her, sealing shut like a wound. The trees were dense enough that the clearing was shrouded in shadow. She’d be safe from prying eyes.
Leah peered out through the undergrowth. The rain had slowed again, but the clouds were still thick, and they stifled any moonlight that might be trying to find its way to Earth. The gloom could be hiding any number of Transport soldiers. If the captain had changed her mind, they’d find Leah and take her back to the ruined inn and—
Leah’s stomach clenched. She doubled over and threw up the remnants of Nat’s soup. Her aching muscles cried out as they contracted. Tears formed in Leah’s eyes. When her stomach had finished emptying its contents, Leah wiped her mouth on her sleeve and moved away from the stinking pile of vomit.
The captain hadn’t changed her mind. They weren’t coming for her. She didn’t care about a lone Wild One. But Leah wasn’t a Wild One. That idea had come from Katherine.
Leah wiped her mouth again. How had Katherine not recognized her? It made no sense. Even if there was a Wild One that looked like Leah, surely her name would have seemed familiar. Leah felt a surge of anger. Did killing her father mean so little to the woman that she’d forgotten his daughter so easily?
Katherine shouldn’t even be alive. She was supposed to have been in the City when it was destroyed. Unless it hadn’t been Katherine. That would explain why she hadn’t recognized Leah.
Leah pictured the woman’s face. She tried to imagine it as someone other than Katherine. It was just some random soldier, someone who wouldn’t recognize Leah and might mistake her for a Wild One. But Leah couldn’t believe the lie. The scar was too distinctive. It was Katherine. She’d betrayed Isaac and Leah’s father, killed them and then fled the City. Leah had managed it. She’d gotten far enough away to escape the blast on foot. Katherine would have had all of Transport’s resources to help her.
Leah’s anger turned to rage. It bubbled and seethed, incinerating her fear and leaving behind a cold, hard resolve. Katherine didn’t deserve to have escaped the blast when so many of the people she’d betrayed had died. And now Leah had a chance to make her pay.
She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs. Transport would probably be spending the rest of the night at the inn. They’d be expecting Leah to leave. All she had to do was go back, find where Katherine was sleeping and kill her. And she could retrieve her backpack at the same time.
Straightening her back, Leah walked out of the forest and toward the inn.
8
Leah watched from the top of the hill overlooking the inn. She lay there, rain seeping through her jacket and chilling her bones. Her thirst for revenge had driven her out of the forest and back along the track, but now it had stalled. Her father’s murderer was just a few short steps away, and she could do nothing.
She had no gun, and she was no marksman even if she had. If she could sneak down the hill, and if she could find a weapon, and if she could find Katherine without being caught, and if Katherine was asleep—then Leah might be able to cut her throat, or shoot her in the heart. But that was a lot of ifs.
Leah balled her hands into fists and barely managed to resist the urge to take her frustration out on the ground. She was tired. Her arms and legs felt like someone had wrapped them in lead, and the muscles in her right calf twitched uncontrollably.
The sun had peeked its head over the horizon. Leah could make out the shape of two Transport soldiers. One was sitting on the hood of the truck; the other paced up and down at the opposite end of the cluster of Transport vehicles. Every now and again a tiny light, like a crimson firefly, danced in front of his face as he dragged on his cigarette.
There was no sign of anyone else. Either they’d taken shelter in the rubble of the inn or were sleeping in the truck. Leah hoped they weren’t in the shed. If they found her backpack, she’d lose everything.
She lay on the hill, her legs steadily becoming number, until a third shadow climbed out of the rear of the truck. Leah recognized her immediately—Katherine. There was something about the way she moved. Or perhaps Leah’s hatred of the woman gave her some sort of sixth sense, an instinct that allowed her to recognize her target.
Katherine walked around the truck. She stopped and spoke to the guard sitting on the hood for a couple of minutes before walking out of sight around the side of the inn.
Leah’s eyes darted between the guard and the building. He wasn’t paying much attention as far as she could tell. If Leah could make her way down the hill without being seen, maybe she could get to Katherine. She still wouldn’t have a weapon, but now that Katherine was so close, Leah didn’t care. She’d kill her with her bare hands if she had to.
The door to the shed opened. The guard hurriedly slipped off the hood of the truck and stood, back straight, staring intently out across the hills. Leah pressed herself into the ground, terrified he was going to see her.
A figure stepped out of the shed—the captain. She walked briskly past the truck, earning a salute from the guard, and disappeared out of sight. Seconds later, the camp came alive as the remaining soldiers piled out of the truck. They swarmed around the camp, picking up supplies, checking vehicles. Within minutes the engines were running, and the vehicles were ready to go.
Leah thought they might actually leave Katherine behind. Then she reappeared from behind the inn and climbed into the truck. Its engine revved, sending black smoke billowing into the sky, and the convoy rolled out, heading north along the road.
Disappointment hit Leah hard. This had been her chance to avenge her father, and she’d let the opportunity slip through her fingers. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She’d let her father and everyone who’d died in the City down again.
Leah took a deep breath. No. She just needed to be patient. The men in the shed had said they were going somewhere called Oakdale. Katherine was probably going with them. Leah could follow her, come up with a real plan to kill Katherine.
> Leah clenched her fists and wiped the tears away. A quiet feeling of calmness descended over her. Now she had a goal beyond just surviving.
She waited a few more minutes to make sure the Transport vehicles weren’t coming back, then stood and jogged down the hill to the inn.
The backpack was still in the shed. The strap was poking out from behind the barrels, and she thanked whoever was watching over her the captain hadn’t spotted it. She checked the supplies Nat had given her. The MREs were there—macaroni and cheese, and some sort of chicken and rice meal. Leah considered trying one. She was hungry, but she felt exposed. The inn wasn’t safe.
Leah slung the backpack over her shoulder and stepped out of the shed. There was a metallic click, and something hard and cold pressed against the back of her head.
“You just stand still.”
It was a man’s voice, the accent rough and thick and instantly recognizable—a Wild One.
Leah raised her hands.
“No tricksing, clear?”
Leah nodded.
The pressure against her head disappeared.
“Turn around.”
Slowly, Leah turned.
The Wild One seemed part man, part bear. He was huge, wrapped in heavy furs and with a thick gray beard running rampant across the lower half of his face and most of his neck. His cheeks and forehead were smeared with some sort of green substance. Narrowed eyes stared at Leah down the barrel of a rifle aimed directly at her face.
Two more Wild Ones stepped out from behind the inn. They carried long, vicious-looking blades and were smaller than the man with the rifle but no less intimidating. One of them stepped forward and pulled Leah’s backpack away from her.
The man-bear flicked his head to the right. “Walk.”
The sun rose as Leah’s captors led her wordlessly along a narrow trail that ran parallel to the road, then turned east and met up with a wide, slow moving river. The man-bear led the way, his rifle hooked over his shoulder. The other two, one of whom turned out to be a woman, followed behind Leah.
The Girl in the Wilderness (Leah King Book 2) Page 4
