"I'll tell the clones to keep an eye out for him," Sven says. "What do you want us to do if we spot him?"
"Take him alive," I say. "He may agree to help us once he hears our plan. It would be his best shot of getting Blade out of there."
We load up our gear and continue tracking the Rogues from a safe distance until the dappled green light on the trail fades to dusk and the patchworked understory assumes a nighttime pall. Amidst the shadows, we creep silently closer to where the Rogues are setting up camp. From beneath a dense patch of ferns, I watch the activity through binoculars. The campfire in the center flickers and snaps to the sound of muffled chatter. Several armed guards patrol the perimeter. I grimace. The Ghost isn't about to make the same mistake twice.
I turn to Sven. "We should split up now. I'll take half the military clones ahead on the trail and scout out the best spots for sniper positions."
"I'm coming with you," Sven says. "My men can handle the rear attack."
I'm still shaken from my encounter with Rummy so I don't argue with him. This time, I want Sven at my side. "Tell your men to follow the Rogues as soon as they break camp in the morning. No one's to fire off a shot until we confirm Curly's position. We can't take the chance of him being hit in the crossfire."
Sven wastes no time dividing the clones into two groups. "Wait for my signal to attack," he instructs the group that will strike from the rear.
I turn to Jody. "You and the rest of the riders flank the Rogues from the East and get Curly out of there as soon as they scatter."
Jody gives a curt nod. She turns to go but then hesitates. "Whatever happens, thank you for coming. Curly would have done the same for any of us in a heartbeat." She reaches for her pack and gestures to the riders to follow her.
Sven and I take the first group of clones on a circuitous route around the Rogues' camp, clambering over downed trees and traversing streams to avoid any chance of encountering a patrol. Once we're a safe distance ahead on the trail, we start searching for the best section of forest canopy to conceal ourselves in. We need to be situated far enough back from the trail to be protected from random shots, but close enough to allow for accuracy when it comes to picking off the Rogues.
After some debate, we settle on a dense patch of oak, birch and hemlock trees of varying heights. "We might as well eat first and rest for a few hours before we get into position." I toss my pack down. "We won't see any action until morning." I offer some jerky around, but the clones decline and pull out sachets of lyophilized food.
"You can't live off that stuff forever," I say. "Jerky's a much more rewarding experience anyway--gives you something to chew on."
A smile tugs at the corners of Sven's mouth. He's become accustomed to real food, but it took some time for his stomach to adjust. I can't help but wonder what he'd think of a pint of chocolate chip ice cream, or a giant bag of nacho cheese-flavored Doritos. Saliva pools beneath my tongue. I wet my lips, caught off guard by a slew of forgotten memories triggered by my senses.
After we eat Sven assigns the first shift to two military clones, and the rest of us bed down in the foliage, burrowing into the thick layers of half-mulched leaves to keep warm. I shiver, eying the shadowy canopy above with sleepy eyes. My thoughts turn to Rummy. Stumbling across him earlier was a shocker. I don't know why he didn't make tracks out of here days ago and put as much distance between himself and The Ghost as possible. Does he really think he can talk his brother into deserting? That might be why The Ghost's keeping Blade close by his side--he's using him as bait to draw Rummy in. I yawn and shift around to make myself more comfortable, the Rogues' tattooed faces gradually blurring together in my mind.
When I wake, only half-lucid, Sven towers over me. "It's almost dawn."
I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes. "Where are the clones?"
He points above my head. "They're in position. I tried to wake you earlier but you were so groggy I took pity on you."
I run my hands through my tousled hair.
"There's a decent oak tree over there with plenty of perches," Sven says. "Room for two."
I throw him a wary look. "Sounds cozy, but we'll be more effective if we spread out. I don't need you to cover me."
"No, but you are gonna need a leg up." He grins. "The lowest branch is head height, my head height."
I take a quick detour into the brush before making my way over to where Sven is standing beneath a sprawling oak tree. He's not kidding about its height. The trunk yawns upward as far as I can stretch my neck to see, its girth easily ten feet across. The tree's dense, wide-spreading branches and plateaus of leaves create a colossal living umbrella, ideal for concealing several people. Clustered around it are hemlocks, the drooping, feathery ends of their branches adding another layer of seclusion to our hiding spot.
Sven gives me a leg up and I begin a painstaking ascent, securing the heel of my boot with every step before I push off to the next branch.
By the time I reach a height that allows me a full view of the trail, snatches of streaky bacon sky are peeking through the foliage. Any time now the Rogues will be heading north again. I crawl into a generous fork between two boughs and balance precariously against the trunk, the thick, irregular scales of bark protruding into my back. I resign myself to the most uncomfortable wait of my life. At least the pain will keep me from nodding off and tumbling to the ground below.
I run through our plan again in my head. Everything depends on the element of surprise. And for that, we need Rummy to lie low. If we can wreak enough havoc on the Rogues and force them to scatter it will give the riders an opportunity to get Curly out of there. But if the Rogues decide to fight, we could be in for a bloody battle with the same men who, days earlier, fought with us against the Sweepers. It all seems so pointless. If only The Ghost could forget Rummy and let the past go.
I stiffen at muffled voices. A moment later someone barks out an order that carries through the tree tops. I signal to Sven, but the clones are already on alert. Their enhanced faculties are a huge advantage in a situation like this. I can't gauge how far away the Rogues are. I get into position to shoot, but my muscles quickly cramp up and I stretch back out, listening for footsteps. Before long the sound of a large number of people moving through the brush reaches my ears. When the first Rogue strides into view, I clench my jaw and line up my sight. Four, five, eight armed men go by. A trickle of sweat inches its way down one side of my nose but I don't dare move a finger to swipe at it.
Several more Rogues appear and then I spot The Ghost and Blade. I signal to Sven to get ready.
Another handful of Rogues march by, scanning the brush on either side of the trail. Still no sign of Curly. My nerves are beginning to unravel. He was limping yesterday. Maybe they moved him to the back of the pack so he doesn't hold them up. Not a safe position once the second group of military clones attacks from the rear.
My apprehension turns to dread when the last of the Rogues march by--followed by a heavily armed patrol. I throw a quick glance in Sven's direction. He raises his brows questioningly, and I signal to him to hold his fire.
The Rogues bootlace through the trees until they're out of sight and their footsteps have deadened. My pulse hammers in my temples. Did they kill Curly? Or leave him somewhere for dead? Either way, we're going to have to backtrack and look for him. I whistle like a wood thrush to signal to the clones that we're retreating. Ignoring Sven's offer of assistance, I jump from the last branch and land with a soft thud in a thick carpet of moss. A moment later Jody and the riders emerge from the forest. "What happened?" Jody asks. "We waited for your signal."
"I exhale. "He wasn't with them."
Jody's eyes burrow into me. Alarm works its way across her face. "We have to find him."
"We will, but you need to ... prepare yourself."
She sways gently back and forth as if reeling from the insinuation that Curly might be dead. Her eyes moisten. "If they killed him, we might never find him. They could have bur
ied him anywhere."
The brush behind us rustles. A sinister laugh sets my skin on fire. "Curly ain't two foot under yet."
9
Jody and I spin around in unison. The bushes part and Rummy steps through, shoving a disheveled Curly in front of him. "This the cowboy you're looking for?"
Jody takes a step toward him, but I lay a hand on her arm when Rummy reaches for his gun.
"What do you want?" I say.
A sneer flicks across his lips. "Out o' the kindness of my bleedin' heart I'm gonna give you what y'all's looking for and I ain't asking for nothin' in return." He nudges Curly in our direction. Jody and another rider rush over to him, grab him by the arms and help him over to a granite boulder.
"Where did you find him?" Sven asks.
Rummy's eyes narrow to glassy slits. "Them dawgs left him tied to a stump. Figured he'd decompose right along with it."
"I guess we owe you one," I say with some reluctance. Rummy doesn't give favors for free. My biggest fear is that he'll ask us to help him get to Blade.
"This one's won't cost you, Butterface." He slings his rifle over his shoulder. "I ain't cashing in yet, but I know where to find you." He turns and winds his way back into the brush until he's lost from view.
I take a few deep breaths before turning to Jody. She stares back at me in stunned silence.
Curly shakes his head. "Why did he help me?"
"Because I helped him escape from The Ghost once," I say. "Let's go before he changes his mind about cashing in."
It's mid-morning by the time we reach Shoshane City. The container gates swing wide on our approach and we trot through, weary and overcome with relief. Shouts of excitement ring out from the watchtower when the guards spot Curly. They sound the horn to alert the city. Jody waves up at them and then makes a beeline to the clinic with Curly.
"I'm going to do a quick check of our security around the barricade," Sven says. "We've been lax of late, but with Rummy and The Ghost roaming free again, we'd best be prepared for anything."
I exchange a few words with the watchtower guards before heading over to Jerome's office at the courthouse. Trout's face lights up when he sees me. We embrace briefly before I collapse into a chair opposite him.
"I couldn't believe it when I read your note," Trout says. "What were you thinking going after Curly without me?"
"I couldn't find you," I say.
His face falls. "I went to Panju's grave. By the time I got back to the barn you were gone."
"Is Tucker all right?"
"Snug as a bug curled up with Big Ed," Trout replies. "I heard the horn. So you found Curly?"
I cock an eyebrow at him. "Rummy did. And he turned him over to us no strings attached."
Trout's eyes widen. "Where's Curly now?"
"At the clinic. He twisted his ankle, but thankfully the Rogues didn't rough him up too much."
"And Rummy?"
I trace my fingertips over my brow. "He's still tracking the Rogues, hoping to lure Blade away from The Ghost."
Trout leans back in his chair. "Maybe that's not what Blade wants."
"That's what I'm afraid of. He might turn Rummy in."
We fall silent for a moment or two. There's a good chance The Ghost's playing Blade for a fool. Rummy's a doomed man if he doesn't give up on this insane quest. He should have taken the chance I gave him and disappeared.
"Did Rocco escort the scientists back to the Craniopolis?" I ask.
"Yeah, he's back already," Trout says. "Been quiet around here without you. Some of the homesteaders are packing up."
"When are they leaving?"
"Week or two, I'm guessing. It's a big operation. They're transplanting seedlings from the vegetable gardens into wagons and building a portable fish tank to set up an Aquaponics system." Trout peers at me from beneath his brows. "You know Owen and Nikki talked Jakob and Hannah into joining them."
I nod. "They'll be good additions, with their medical knowledge. Any word from Viktor?"
Trout shakes his head. "Not yet. He should have a communications line up and running by tomorrow."
I chew on my bottom lip. "Viktor told me Lyong was planning to take Sook to the outpost with the ossification breakthrough. If the rumors are true, it means they can fix the clones."
Trout lets out an amused snort. "You mean, Sven."
I throw him an irritated look. "Sven and the rest of them."
A hint of a grin comes across Trout's face. "I still think it's weird, him being a clone and all, but he really likes you and I gotta hand it to him, it was a brave thing he did in the Craniopolis offering to take Owen's place." He leans across the table. "If they can override his expiration date, does that mean Sven's not a clone anymore? You two could hook up for real then."
"Shut up, Trout! This is important. It could change everything for the clones."
"Just saying, it's way weird."
We spin around when an Undergrounder bursts into the office. "The Craniopolis just made contact with the Superconductor."
Trout and I exchange surprised looks. Viktor made quick work of setting up a communications line. A ripple of unease goes through me, but I dismiss it. Viktor works for us now. I have to trust he's not in contact with anyone else.
"Let's head over there," I say. "I need to talk to Viktor and Jerome."
Trout gets to his feet. "What about?"
I hesitate. He knows how I feel about Sven. What's the point in hiding the truth from him? "I want to know if Viktor's made contact with the outpost yet. Every day that goes by is one less I have to spend with Sven."
Trout gives a sympathetic nod. Despite all his joking around, he understands better than anyone after losing Panju.
"And we still need to figure out what the scientists' role will be now that Sektor Sieben and the cloning operation are shut down," I add. "Supposedly the scientists were involved in all sorts of research to benefit humankind, not all of which would have had Hippocrates turning over in his grave." I push myself out of my chair. "They're gonna need something to keep them busy."
"Out of trouble you mean," Trout says, following me out of the room.
On our way to the Superconductor, we bump into Jakob leaving the clinic. "Glad you made it back safely," he says, hugging me. He slaps Trout on the shoulder.
"How's Curly?" I ask.
"Beat up and dehydrated. He sprained his ankle, but he's going to be fine."
"Believe it or not, Rummy saved his life."
Jakob raises his brows. "So I heard. Could mean trouble headed our way. Sven has increased security all around the barricade to be safe."
"Rummy's tracking the Rogues, trying to lure Blade away from The Ghost. I don't think he'll bother us anymore." The empty words echo through my head. Something tells me we haven't seen the last of Rummy.
"Where are you off to now?" Jakob asks.
"The Superconductor," Trout says. "Viktor's got a communications line up and running. He's transmitting from the Craniopolis."
"I just finished my shift at the clinic." Jakob sticks a thumb in his overalls. "I'll walk over there with you."
My smile freezes. I don't particularly want Jakob privy to my desperate bid to help Sven. Neither he nor Hannah approves of our budding relationship.
I shrug. "Whatever."
Trout winks at me in my perplexity. I reward him with a scathing look.
The main street is chock full of half-loaded wooden wagons as we walk by. I stare curiously at the caravan of supplies piled high. Some of the carts are built like large flats to house a variety of seedlings, others are outfitted with sides and rails to transport goats and chickens. The whole scene has a pioneer nostalgia to it, except in this case the threat on the trail will be tattooed subversives and possibly a Hovermedes or two.
I rub the back of my neck as I survey the assembled wagons. I still have a couple of weeks to talk Owen and Nikki out of leaving. We can't play settlers until we've secured the land, and that will take time.
&
nbsp; "We're almost ready to pull out," Jakob says, grinning over at Trout and me. "Hannah and I are building a medical cart to bring along."
"Does it have sirens?" Trout hefts a shaggy brow upward.
Despite my frustration, I can't help but laugh. What would I do without Trout to lighten the weight I carry?
We make our way across the city and past several boarded-up office blocks. Charred billboards festoon the few buildings still standing in this hard-hit section of town, the random words in the advertisements too disfigured to decipher. The asphalt was ripped from the road during the meltdown and tossed about like regurgitated entrails. Gaping fissures yawn their way to the center of the earth and apocalypse-tolerant weeds hide in cracks between concrete walls snapped in half like crackers.
"Check this out!" Trout kicks aside a chunk of signage with faded Chinese characters on it. "I just hit the motherlode." He digs out a moldy cardboard box filled with fortune cookies--crushed crumbs for the most part--still sealed in plastic.
"Who wants to know their future?" he asks, waving a handful of cookies at us.
"Later," I say. "Let's grab some and go. Viktor's waiting on us."
We each snatch a handful of cookies and stuff them into our jackets, then clamber through the rest of the debris until we reach the perimeter chain link fence surrounding the superconductor.
The metal entry doors to the facility swing wide when I activate the keypad. The cool interior wraps itself like a shawl around me and a low-level harmonic humming fills my ears, a pleasant alternative to the charged snapping sound when the superconductor is running. A scientist sits in front of a large touchscreen, rapidly repositioning strings of code as her fingers fly across the screen.
She startles on our approach and clears the screen with a flick of her finger.
"Everything okay?" I ask, frowning at the blank screen.
"We had a minor hiccup with the communications line," she says, with a hollow laugh. "The good news is it's all straightened out now and you can talk to Viktor whenever you like."
Judgement: The Undergrounders Series Book Three (A Young Adult Post-apocalyptic Science Fiction Thriller) Page 6
