He smelled something burning. The scent got stronger as the light became brighter. Its shape flickered and morphed into something jagged and unruly. Fire. He should go before the flames got any closer, but he couldn’t move. He could hear it now—the crackling sparks, the hollow rustle of air moving through the flames. Then a voice shrieked his name. “Jared! Help!”
He searched for her frantically, but all he could see was fire. Sometimes, he caught glimpses of other faces in the flames—the faces of all the people Ryku had executed. They hissed and cackled at him, always just at the edges of his vision so that when he turned to look at them, they were gone.
He spotted Aubreigh at last and called out to her. Fire surrounded her, threatening to burn her if she didn’t move. Jared tried to go to her but remained fixed in place. The flames lapped at Aubreigh’s feet and spread up her legs. She made the most horrible sound Jared had ever heard as her face writhed in pain. He could do nothing but watch as the fire consumed her.
The heat became unbearable as the flames closed in around him. He was finally able to move, but now there was nowhere to go. In a desperate attempt to reach safety, he took a breath and charged into the fire. His hair and clothes began to burn, but he kept running. He had to get to the other side.
Pain erupted over his entire body as his skin started to char. There was no other side. He let out an agonized cry, but kept running. All he could feel was fire and burning.
As suddenly as it had appeared, the fire vanished, and everything went dark once more. Despite the cold sweat that drenched his skin, Jared still felt unbearably hot. A violent shudder sent new aches throughout his entire body. He stood with his hands chained above his head and his feet barely touching the floor, which was slick with his own bodily fluids. He didn’t know how long he’d been like that. Long enough that his joints ached so badly he was beginning to doubt whether they would ever function properly again.
Not that it mattered. He wasn’t going to leave this cell alive.
He looked around again to reassure himself that the fire was gone—was never real in the first place—and allowed himself to feel relieved. Reality was grim, but not quite as bad as the hallucinations brought on by a combination of chemicals and sleep-deprivation. Whatever brief moments of clarity he experienced were usually filled with Ryku’s interrogations, but that was bearable. He was able to withdraw to a safer place inside himself and disconnect from what was happening. It was what came after that broke him—his own mind working against him, the waking nightmares that were always specifically distressing and never seemed to end.
He’d answered every question the chairman asked him, sometimes with what little truth he knew, more often with blatant lies. It didn’t seem to matter. Jared had realized early on that this was more about revenge for his betrayal than about finding Zira, Judah, and whoever they were working with. The worst part of it was that Ryku knew he wasn’t going to get any useful information out of Jared, but he kept doing this anyway.
Jared wondered if Zira had seen the executions. He hoped she hadn’t, but even if she’d been spared the torment of watching her best friend die on a live broadcast, she must have heard about it by now. She would know he’d been there and that his life had been spared. She must hate him, both for being alive when Aubreigh wasn’t and for his failure to get her out of the compound safely. He hated himself for it, and for everything else that had led him to this. When he wasn’t hallucinating or being questioned by Ryku—like now—his mind wandered into contemplations of how to make it all end. The suicidal ideations had become more comforting and more frequent recently. Frequent enough that it scared him. But if he was going to die here anyway, why not speed up the process?
He smelled something burning again, and then a flame sprang up out of nowhere just a few feet away. Jared flinched. It’s not real, he told himself. There is no fire.
The flames grew and spread until they surrounded him again. Jared closed his eyes to block them out, but he could still see them.
They’re not real.
He could feel the heat on his chest, though. Maybe they were real. Maybe there was some way Ryku could put fire in his cell, perhaps some mechanism in the walls or ceiling.
The fire drew closer, lapping at the soles of his feet. Jared kicked against the floor to try and move away, but it only made the cuffs on his wrists dig deeper into his skin. A thin stream of blood ran down his arm, but he kept pulling. The fire was closing in.
“Help me!” he shouted. Revolver was outside his cell. He was always there, always watching. As if Jared even had the strength or the means to attempt an escape. “Revolver! Help!”
No one answered. The flames rose higher. He thrashed and cried out at the top of his lungs as they enveloped his entire body.
* * *
Outside the cell, Revolver stood motionless and listened to Jared’s screams. It was Aubreigh this time. Sometimes he saw other people, cried out other names. Zira, Lucas, Rowan, Titus—names Revolver could tune out with ease. It was different when he called for Aubreigh, though, like someone had filled Revolver’s lungs with cold water.
He’d tried not to think about her in the days that had passed since her execution. It seemed a pointless waste of his time. She was dead; there was nothing he could do to change that. His life would continue, even if she was not in it anymore. But here in the empty hall, there was little else to do but think, and memories of her were always there even when Revolver tried to ignore them.
He had a remarkable memory. He remembered every one of their conversations almost word for word, and he remembered exactly how she’d looked during each meal they ate together. He remembered her smile best of all. She’d always been smiling about something. Aubreigh had always seemed more alive, somehow, than anyone else he’d ever met. Perhaps that was why she had intrigued him so much—because she represented everything he was not, everything he struggled to understand.
In the end, though, he’d never really understood her. Maybe he could have if they’d had more time, but Ryku had put an end to that. And Revolver had let it happen.
She’d been wrong about him. He was just as empty and inhuman as everyone said he was—a monster. Only a monster would stand by and let someone execute the only person who had ever cared about them.
He clenched his fist as his eyes started to burn. Was this what anger felt like? Logically, Revolver knew he should feel angry—angry at Ryku as well as himself. Normal people handled loss in different stages of grief, one of which was anger. Maybe he was grieving.
Something wet ran down his cheek, and for a moment he thought there might be a leak in the roof. It wasn’t supposed to rain, though. He wiped the drop away with his thumb, only then realizing that it had come from his own eye. More tears followed, and Revolver was overcome with the most unpleasant sensation he had ever felt in his life. Pain—but a pain completely different from any physical pain he’d experienced. The wound was invisible, intangible, and yet it seemed to be crushing him from the inside out.
He wished Aubreigh was here now. She would know what to say. That thought only made the pain worse. He hunched over and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find some way to force the feeling out.
Sadness, he realized. Overwhelming sadness. Somehow, giving it a name made him feel just a little better. Sadness was a normal human reaction to losing someone special, and Aubreigh had been special to him, if only for the fact that she treated him differently than everyone else.
Perhaps he was not a monster after all.
The door clattered open. Revolver wiped his face with his sleeve and snapped to attention. “How’s our friend doing?” the chairman asked as he strode down the hall.
“He’s been hallucinating all morning.”
Ryku stiffened as Jared let out a long cry that echoed all around them. Something about his scowl softened just a little bit. “I hate this,” he growled.
“Sir?”
“He was like a son to me. I hate that it had
to come to this.”
“Why are you doing it, then?” Revolver asked.
Ryku folded his arms over his chest and waited a few moments before responding. “Because I hate him more for what he’s done to me and to the Project.” He turned around and started heading back to the door, then hesitated. “Don’t administer anything else today,” he said quietly, “and let him down for now. I’ll be back tomorrow to ask him some more questions.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Zira took careful aim at her target, imagining Ryku’s face in her sights as she squeezed the trigger. Bulls-eye. She moved down the line, hitting each of the empty cans in quick succession and releasing pent-up frustration with every bullet. None were left standing when she finished. “Nice shooting,” Alma said.
Zira passed the gun to the man behind her and stepped back to watch him. Warren wasn’t a great marksman, but he was finally starting to show some improvement, and he was easily among the top five in the squad when it came to close-quarters combat. Zira wasn’t sure that was enough to justify his being assigned to Alma’s team, but apparently he had volunteered for the job. He had some kind of personal grudge against Ryku, believing his brother had been killed by an E-2 operative on the chairman’s orders. He’d been one of the first people to join the rebellion, so when he’d specifically asked to be assigned to the team charged with taking Ryku into custody, Chase had granted the request.
He took aim as Zira watched and even hit two of his targets, but he kept anticipating the recoil. Most of his shots went wide.
“Stop flinching,” Zira told him for what must have been the hundredth time that day.
He smiled at her sheepishly. “I’m trying.”
“Trying isn’t good enough,” she said. “Just trying is going to get you killed. Do better.”
Alma gave her a disapproving frown. She didn’t always agree with Zira’s teaching methods, particularly when they involved stating the brutal realities of what could happen in a firefight if someone made a mistake. Zira stared back at her and raised an eyebrow. She could be pissed if she wanted to be—it wasn’t going to make Warren a better shot. But, just for good measure, she turned back to him and summoned all the friendly encouragement she could muster. “Look, you can do this. Just keep practicing.”
An hour later, Alma dismissed them to go have dinner and retire for the night. Zira helped her collect the casings they’d spent so they could be reloaded, then they walked back to the concourse together. “It wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to them,” Alma said. “They’re doing the best they can.”
Zira grunted noncommittally and changed the subject. “Have you figured out how we’re going to capture Ryku once we’re inside the compound?”
“You know the place better than I do. I was hoping you could help me come up with something.”
“I’ll tell you if I have any good ideas.”
They descended the stairs into the tunnels. Alma switched on her flashlight to illuminate their path. “There’s something else you should probably know.”
“What?”
“Chase held a big meeting with all of the squad leaders this morning. He gave us a few other primary targets in addition to Ryku. He’s adamant about taking the chairman alive, but there’s a little more leeway with the others. If they seem to pose a significant threat, we have orders to kill them. He doesn’t want anyone taking unnecessary risks.”
Zira gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you’re supposed to be telling me this?”
“No, but I know what it’s like to be worried about someone you love. I wanted you to hear this from me before Chase makes the announcement and you get all worked up about it—do something loco like put a gun to someone’s head.”
“No chance of that happening since I don’t have a gun anymore.”
“You expect any of us to believe you couldn’t get one if you really wanted to?”
They were afraid of her. On some level, they considered her a threat. She wasn’t sure whether that made her feel more powerful or just more alienated from the rest of them.
“Jared is one of those targets,” Alma said.
Zira nodded. She’d suspected as much, but that didn’t make her any less angry about it. “He was just arrested and almost executed for treason. He’s not working with Ryku anymore. Doesn’t Chase understand that?”
Alma shrugged. “Chase is a very fair man. To a fault, sometimes. He’s not just going to excuse Jared of his past crimes. And Jared has always been close to Ryku, so…”
“He’s committed a lot of crimes.” Zira gnawed at her bottom lip and frowned. “What about me, then? What about my past crimes?”
“That’s different. You left the Project. You’ve been helping us for almost a year now. But Jared—”
Zira clenched a fist. “That’s not fair. He would have left the Project if he hadn’t been arrested first. He didn’t have a chance to prove himself.” Maybe he never would.
“He knew what Ryku was doing and did nothing to stop any of it,” said Alma. “For Chase, that shows a lack of basic morality. He sees it at as a huge problem with Jared’s character, and if you keep defending him, it’s going to reflect badly on you.”
“Fine,” Zira said.
Alma shook her head. “I don’t think you’re understanding me. You used to be an assassin for the Project. Can you honestly say the people you killed deserved to die?”
“Some of them,” Zira said. “I don’t know for sure. That’s why I left.”
“Chase might be willing to overlook your crimes now because he sees you as an asset, because you did leave the Project, and because you’re helping us. But I’m not sure his goodwill is going to last if you side with the likes of Jared or pull another stunt like you did with Seth.”
“What are you saying, exactly? That he’ll put me on trial? Imprison me? Execute me?”
“He wouldn’t execute you, but there could be other consequences. It’s just a warning. You don’t have many friends here. No one’s going to help you if you do something stupid.”
“And here I thought we were friends.”
Alma smiled. “We are. But Chase has been my friend a lot longer than you, and ninety-nine percent of the time, I think he makes the right decisions. So whose side do you think I’d take if it came down to it?”
“At least I know where I stand,” Zira muttered.
Dinner was already waiting when they reached the concourse. Zira thanked the cooks as they handed her a plate, then went to sit by Tripp. Seth and Trinity sat across from him. She hadn’t seen Seth for days, but the bruising around his eye had gone from a deep, swollen purple to a faint yellow. Trinity looked up at her with a timid, almost fearful smile as she approached their table. Seth just rolled his eyes and scooted over to make room for her.
Zira sat down and asked Tripp how his day had been. He eagerly described the mechanism his group was working on to open the compound gate. They were doing final tests and fixing the last few bugs. Zira didn’t understand all the technical details, but it sounded like it would work.
Her mind wandered away from the conversation, and she picked at the food on her plate. She wondered what Aubreigh’s last meal had been and pushed away thoughts about how long it might have been since Jared had eaten.
Trinity nudged her. “Are you okay?”
Zira pushed the plate aside. “I guess I’m not hungry. It’s been a long day. I think I’ll just go to bed.”
She tried to ignore the concern on her friends’ faces and the stares from everyone she passed as she walked away. Whether because she’d caused such a scene with Seth, or because they pitied her, or simply because they didn’t trust a former Project assassin, they all stared. Thankfully, they left her alone otherwise, only speaking to her when they needed to. Zira preferred it that way. Living here with the rebels was only a temporary situation, and she wasn’t looking to make any new friends.
She laid down on her mattress and stared up at the ceiling, trying
to think of different scenarios she and the rest of Alma’s team might run into once they were inside the compound. What would Ryku do? Where would he hide when things started to go bad? Zira closed her eyes and pictured the layout of her former home. She still remembered every building, every bush, every corner. Before long, she started thinking about where Jared was inside those walls. As soon as Ryku was in custody, she would look for him. The cells the Project sometimes used to hold suspects seemed most likely; she would check there first.
She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering into darker thoughts. What was Ryku doing to Jared? What condition was he in now? Maybe he was already dead. Maybe he was worse than dead. She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. Here she was, safe and comfortable with a bed to sleep on, food to eat, and at least one or two people who cared about her and looked out for her.
Jared had none of those things. Aubreigh would never have any of those things again.
She tried to force unwanted images out of her mind. It was too late to save Aubreigh, no matter how much she wished it wasn’t, and she couldn’t do anything to help Jared right now. He just had to wait a little while longer. Just a little longer.
She must have told herself that a thousand times before she finally fell asleep.
* * *
The following week dragged on despite Zira’s best efforts to keep herself occupied. Alma’s squad was shaping up better than she’d originally hoped, and even Warren’s shooting had improved. She also made some minor adjustments to the map Chase had of the compound, which was then used to plan what they would do after the gate opened. Her squad was going to be on the front lines, one of the very first teams to go in, so Alma made them spend most of their remaining time together working on tactics that would keep them alive in the chaos that was sure to ensue. They practiced several different scenarios they might encounter and discussed the best strategy for finding and capturing Chairman Ryku. After supper and often late into the night, Zira continued to work one-on-one with people who asked for extra help, and by the time she went to bed each night, she was usually too exhausted to even think.
Renegades of PEACE (Secrets of PEACE Book 2) Page 23
