by Bali Rai
‘My two women,’ Negus boasted with obvious pride. ‘And this here’ – he gestured to the thin man who had led the welcome party through the tunnels – ‘is Jack.’
The taller man smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you all,’ he said. His voice was soft, his accent lilting.
Jonah introduced himself too. Behind them Mace whistled as more of the tribe began to reveal themselves. They came from the undergrowth, from behind trees, and climbed down rope ladders from the canopy.
‘This is crazy,’ the giant added.
‘Crazy and free, brother,’ said Negus. ‘No one knows we’re here.’
Jonah smiled. ‘You didn’t show me this last time,’ he half complained.
‘Didn’t have time, did I?’ Negus reminded him. ‘I was scouting with my brother, remember?’
‘How do you defend yourselves against the animals?’ asked Mace.
‘With sticks and knives,’ Jack told him, shrugging. ‘We’ve lost one or two but mostly it’s safe. There’s a wolf pack that lives here, and some lions too, but they stick to the smaller prey – pigs and sheep and whatnot. I seen a zebra grazing by the river bank a few weeks ago. Crazy what happened to all them zoo animals after the War.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Since right after the demons won,’ Negus revealed. ‘Me and some others. I knew these woods from my childhood. Used to play in them. They weren’t as thick then, not around the edges, but nearly twenty years of growing free has sorted that out.’
‘And the government never bothered you?’
‘They couldn’t find us, could they?’ He laughed. ‘They stuck to clearing the local villages and towns instead.’
Mace nodded. ‘So you built all of this?’
‘Yeah, and slowly,’ said Negus. ‘And each time we found humans out on the road, we asked them to join us. That’s how Jack got here. We have to go out and look for materials and food, but there are plenty of deserted villages and a town close by. That’s what the scouting trips are for. It’s hard sometimes, but like I told you earlier, no demons, no soldiers – it’s like Heaven.’
‘How big?’ Jonah asked as yet more people appeared and began to take care of the rescued.
‘Three more areas this size,’ revealed Jack, ‘with a network of tunnels, dug in pairs. We’re digging out a larger cavern too – just in case. One way in, one way out. And then some live up in the branches. Not me though – my head can’t take them heights.’
Mace looked concerned all of a sudden. ‘We should get the rest of the weapons,’ he said.
‘No need,’ Negus replied. ‘The men are on the case. Time for us to rest and get something to eat.’
‘Ah, food,’ said Mace, rubbing his stomach. ‘I could eat a demon . . .’
42
MARTHA WAS WIPING down a table and ignoring the lewd comments of a drunk when Stone walked through the door.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he told her, his expression serious.
Martha shook her head. ‘Take it somewhere else,’ she replied. ‘I’m busy.’
Stone saw that the large square room was virtually empty. The old man with the cough sat at the bar, smoking, and the woman, Faith, tended to a customer. That left the slobbering wreck hitting on Martha and two middle-aged women in the far left corner, sitting at the last table before the stairs, nursing half-empty glasses. Stone had seen busier coffins.
‘Rescued anyone from the Hunt lately?’ he said to Martha, who tensed visibly and dropped the rag she was holding. ‘Now lose the attitude and come with me!’
Aware that she had no choice, Martha obeyed, brushing off the concern shown by Faith. ‘It’s nothing,’ she told her friend as they passed the bar. ‘He just wants to talk.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Stone told Faith. ‘I won’t do anything she doesn’t like.’
Prior turned to the mercenary, bristling with rage. ‘You want to try a man for size?’ he snapped. The effort caused him to wheeze, his cheeks turning purple.
Stone shook his head. ‘Not my thing,’ he replied. ‘If I was you, I’d conserve my energy.’
‘It’s fine, Prior,’ said Martha, even though she was scared stiff. ‘We’ll only be upstairs.’
Stone walked on, and Martha followed, the pit of her stomach aching and her head spinning. Stone knew that she was a rebel, which meant that she was in serious trouble. She fingered the knife in the pocket of the grey cargo pants she wore, vowing not to succumb easily. If he hurt her, she would make sure she got her own pound of flesh too.
Stone led her to his quarters, shutting the door behind them. He walked round his sparse desk to the windows, opened one of the blinds.
‘How did you find out?’ she asked him, remaining by the exit, ready to run if need be.
‘Doesn’t matter how,’ he told her. ‘Your reaction proved it was true.’
‘So why are we talking?’
Stone shrugged and leaned against the window frame. ‘Would you rather I killed you?’ he replied.
Martha’s right hand went to her pocket, just as Stone did the same with his left. Her heartbeat gathered pace and her palms grew clammy.
‘I’ve got something you need to hear,’ Stone revealed. ‘See, you don’t really get me, Martha.’
‘I don’t want to, either,’ she bit back, hoping to hide her fear. ‘You disgust me.’
‘Oh, really?’ he countered. ‘What – more than these dirty, stinking louts you socialize with? More than your unwashed, shitty-arsed Resistance friends?’
She nodded. ‘I’d rather sleep with that drunk downstairs than have anything to do with you. You’re a traitor.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. ‘But what if I wasn’t? What if I was actually working for the same side as you?’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she snorted. ‘You work for the demons. How can we be on the same side, Stone? You’ve lost your mind.’
Stone wanted to smile but held back. Things were just as he hoped they would be. ‘Are you prepared to die?’ he asked her. ‘Really prepared?’
The question made her feel sick. She started to rock on the balls of her feet, ready to move. She thought about her mother – was this how she’d met her end? Sweating and frightened, but defiant too?
‘Yes, I’m ready to die,’ she replied.
Stone ignored the change in her posture and concentrated instead on the intent in her eyes. She was a brave girl, something he admired. He thought about her stepfather and his weasel words, about the tales he’d heard of Martha’s mother, her unmatched beauty and huge heart. The gruesome nature of her death.
‘Did you know your mother well?’ he asked, taking her by surprise.
She hesitated for a moment, unsure of herself. ‘Leave her out of this,’ she snapped at last, confused about Stone’s tactics and where he was going with his question. ‘You don’t know anything—’
‘But I do,’ Stone interrupted. ‘I know a lot.’
Martha edged further into the room, her gaze fixed on the mercenary, her attention focused. What did he know about Maria? What could he tell her about the mother she’d lost; the woman she’d dreamed of almost every night since?
Stone took out his mobile, fiddled with the touch screen and called Martha closer. ‘Listen to this,’ he told her. He set the phone down on his desk.
‘What’s that?’ she asked him, staring at the small black device.
‘It’s for communication,’ he explained. ‘Everyone in the citadels has them.’
‘So why should I be interested?’ she added.
Stone touched the screen again and she heard her stepfather’s voice coming through the phone’s inbuilt speakers.
‘What’s to tell?’ she heard him say to someone. ‘She was having an affair, running with the rebels. When Valefor found out, he gave me an ultimatum. My wife or my position. Like any rational man, I chose the latter.’
The next voice belonged to Stone, and she suddenly unders
tood what was happening.
‘You . . .?’ she began.
Stone nodded but said nothing. The recording continued.
‘She was a cheating slut and a traitor. What would you have done in my place? I didn’t just allow them to tear her apart; I stood and watched as they did so. The silly bitch was pregnant too – though not with my child. I couldn’t let her humiliate me any further. She had to die.’
Martha gasped. Her mouth began to twitch and tears ran down her face. She dropped to her knees and looked up at Stone.
‘Is this true?’ she wailed.
Stone went to her, crouching so that their faces were level. He held onto her shoulders and nodded.
‘Why . . .?’ she asked. ‘Why are you telling me?’
‘You decide,’ he replied. ‘Am I friend, foe or something else entirely?’ He used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. Then he stood, retrieved his phone and started to leave. At the door, he stopped and turned to her. ‘He’s on his way here,’ he revealed. ‘He knows about the rebel thing. I can’t give details about how just yet, but I will. I know you hate me, but that matters little. You’ll have to trust me. You and your friends are in great danger. You cannot let the Mayor leave this place alive. Do you understand?’
Martha nodded. ‘How do you . . .?’
‘Later,’ he told her. ‘I’ll explain everything later.’ He walked back to her, pointed to a metal chest to the right of his desk. ‘There are some weapons in there,’ he told her. ‘You do know how to shoot?’
Martha nodded. She hadn’t fired a gun for some time but she knew how they worked. Her mother had handled plenty and the elders had shown Martha how to use them.
‘Good. I need to check on something but I’ll be back shortly. He can’t know I’ve been here, understood?’
‘Yes,’ said Martha, her mind a tangle of confused thoughts and emotions.
Stone told her to be careful and left, smiling all the way out to his jeep. As his driver pulled away into the encroaching evening light, Stone dialled his handler.
‘Where we headed?’ the driver asked as Stone waited for an answer.
‘Nowhere,’ Stone told him. ‘Find a spot close by, one where we can keep an eye on the hotel’s entrance.’
The soldier, although confused, shrugged and did as he was told.
43
THE MAYOR ARRIVED moments later, flanked by two stern-faced mercenaries. At the bar, he demanded to know where his stepdaughter was. Faith shrugged and looked away.
‘I would urge you to tell me,’ he warned her. ‘My patience is worn through today. I’ll have my men shoot out your knees.’
‘She’s upstairs,’ said Prior from his usual stool. ‘Cleaning.’
Prior didn’t know what had gone on between Martha and Stone, save for the fact that Stone had left. But he was damned if he was going to tell the Mayor anything that might be important.
‘That’s better,’ replied the Mayor. ‘I’ll go up and find her.’
‘Want me to take you?’ asked Prior, a deep, phlegmy rumble erupting from his chest.
‘No, no,’ the Mayor told him. ‘I’m perfectly capable of finding someone in my own premises. You just sit there and choke quietly.’ He gestured to his escort. ‘These two will stay here. Just in case you decide to get frisky,’ he warned. And turning to his men, he added, ‘Kill them if they move. Kill everyone in the place if you have to.’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied both soldiers.
The stairs were wooden and old. Years of use had worn down the centre of each step and scuffed the dark wood to an almost blond shade. The handrail creaked and wobbled slightly. The Mayor made a mental note to get it fixed, once he’d dealt with Martha. He walked up and found her in one of the rear bedrooms, swishing a tattered mop around the hardwood floor.
‘Hello, my dear,’ he said, his tone sickly sweet, the emotion false.
Martha ignored him and continued her chores. Her stepfather sighed as he walked over to a single bed with frayed yellowing covers and sat down.
‘Lost your tongue?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she replied.
The Mayor sighed at the insolence in her tone, the implied defiance. He smiled slightly. He was about to destroy that rebellious streak once and for all.
‘You look so much like Maria,’ he told her.
Martha felt the fury rising inside her. She saw her mother’s smiling face, remembered the spicy scent she’d always worn. To think that this man had watched her die, watched her unborn child butchered – a sibling that Martha had never been given the chance to know. Even in their vicious world, where death was as common as taking a breath, such an act was unspeakable. Two lives, given up to the Hell-kin as though they’d meant nothing. The counterfeit tears that Martha had seen the Mayor cry when he’d broken the news, the bogus sobs that had seemingly racked his body, the phony depression; she would take each of these things and ram them down his deceitful gullet.
‘Don’t talk about my mother,’ she managed to reply, each word catching in her throat.
‘She was my wife,’ he parried, ‘and I will speak of her as I wish. There is so much you don’t know about her. You were young, Martha, and besotted with her carefree nature. You never knew the true woman, the one who lied and cheated and stole her way through life. And now you—’
Martha threw up her head, glared at him, a pathetic, insignificant weasel of a man. ‘What about me?’ she demanded.
‘I know,’ he told her. ‘About you and your Resistance associates.’
Martha gulped down air, felt her heart beating in treble time. Stone, whatever she thought about him, had warned her about this and given her time to prepare. Again, she wondered about his motives. What had he said about being neither friend nor foe? Could he have been telling the truth?
‘Your failure to counter my claims tells me much,’ the Mayor added, pressing his fingertips together, raising his hands to his mouth.
‘You want me to deny it?’ she spat. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
The Mayor shook his head. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I’m here to give you a chance.’
‘A chance?’ she asked. ‘What chance can you offer me? I’d rather die . . .’
‘And you will,’ he assured her. ‘I know everything about you and your rebels. The Haven, isn’t it? The secret tunnels and safe houses dotted around the city. The names of those involved and the patterns you use to avoid detection. Those two people downstairs . . .’
Martha’s face dropped. How the hell did he know so much? Someone had to have turned, someone close. As if he’d expected such a reaction, the Mayor nodded.
‘Yes,’ he continued. ‘The informant told us everything. A person you thought was an ally. It’s amazing what the lure of basic human comforts can make people do.’
A wave of nausea overcame Martha. She winced and looked away. Who would betray them like this? But even though she tried, she couldn’t think of a single person, not one.
‘Don’t you want to know who?’ teased the Mayor.
‘No,’ she lied, unwilling to give him the satisfaction he craved. Instead, she asked him what he wanted from her.
‘I’ve already told you,’ he replied. ‘You can escape the fate awaiting the others.’
A sudden chill hardened the sickness Martha felt in the pit of her stomach. She gulped down more air, her scalp tingling. ‘How?’ she asked, fearing his reply. What if her compliance was the only way to save her friends? What if he did have her cornered?
The Mayor stood and walked towards her, his arms outstretched. ‘You have much to offer,’ he cooed. ‘I am retiring soon, leaving this place. I want you to come with me.’ He stopped mere centimetres short of her, his breath sour.
‘Why should I come with you?’ she asked him, trying not to breathe in his stench.
‘Because the only other option is death,’ he explained. ‘I’ve already informed Valefor of the information I received. Your rebellion has less than a few hours left to r
un. Come the morning, your Haven shall be no more.’
Martha held the mop handle so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. ‘So if I stay,’ she clarified, ‘I’m dead. But if I leave with you, then what?’
The Mayor shrugged. ‘Then you live,’ he told her.
‘No,’ she added, ‘you’re not listening. What do I have to do?’
A slimy, stubby-fingered hand took her shoulder, making her shiver in revulsion. ‘You will become everything that your mother did not,’ he said. ‘You will be my woman.’
Martha fought back the vomit and tried to sharpen her mind. She had to stay calm, had to remain focused on her goal. ‘Faith and Prior,’ she said. ‘I want you to spare them too.’
‘Who?’
‘The two people downstairs,’ she explained. ‘Aunt May and my other friends too.’
A devious smile crawled across the Mayor’s face, like a snake approaching its prey, ready for the final strike. ‘You want me to protect your entire group?’ he asked her.
Martha fought back tears as she tried to compile a mental list of those she wanted to save. She’d never even thought about having to make such a choice, and the reality of it made her feel helpless and angry.
‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘If you want me, you let my friends leave Fire City.’
‘Then remove your clothes,’ he whispered. ‘Show me that you are willing.’
Martha stepped back and let go of the mop. It fell slowly to the floor, clacking against the boards. She looked down at her feet, her eyes watering. Again she recalled her mother’s face and thought quickly through her limited options. All the while, the rage inside her built.
‘Come now,’ the Mayor told her. ‘Do as I ask and your friends will be safe. I give you my word.’ He drew a pistol from his jacket pocket, pointed it at her. ‘And if you don’t, I’ll kill you right here and feed your remains to your rebel compatriots,’ he added.
Slowly, and with hands trembling, Martha removed her top. The Mayor gasped at the sight of her bare flesh, as she looked away, desperate to find a way out.
