The Kidnapped Army

by Shiloh White

  “I'm gonna make you drink that tea for starters,” he said, gesturing to the cup on the nightstand. “Unless you prefer doin' it yourself.”

  I preferred.

  I reached my hand across the bed. Slowly. Each part of my body moving sent pain to every other part, but I pushed through it to pick up the teacup. Before taking a sip, I glanced up at the old man. There was always the possibility that the cup was poisoned. We could've messed with some new cloak clothing line of his back at the building, and this might be his way of getting revenge. But the last thing I knew, I was falling over a waterfall. Now I was lying in bed, exit blocked by a stranger (and a body in much pain) who nodded down at the cup. I looked down at the brown liquid and decided I wasn't in much of a position to fight or anything.

  The moment the liquid hit my tongue, the word “BITTER” smacked itself at the forefront of my mind. I couldn't help spraying the sip across the bed covers. The old man growled.

  “Don't waste that! It took hours to make!” he shouted.

  “Is that how long I've been out?” I asked.

  “Drink it. Now!” he ordered.

  “Give me answers. Now!” I ordered back, not missing a beat.

  With how bad this stuff tasted, I changed my mind to my earlier decision: I was in a position to fight this guy. Or at least not drink his horrible tea without some info.

  “You were out for a while,” the old man sighed. “Long enough for me to brew enough tea for you and those hooligan friends of yours."

  “Chug and Woodstock? They're here? Where?” I didn't exactly think of them as hooligans, but who else could he be referring to? And more importantly, if it was them, it meant they survived Stark. I hoped that was the case.

  “Drink first,” the old man demanded, his voice the crack of the whip that brought the bitter liquid back to my lips. I forced a good-sized gulp down my throat, just to show this guy I could be fair.

  I regretted it instantly. The bitterness made me gag and I resisted the bodily urge to toss is back up and all over the covers. And then it passed, and I felt a surge of energy tingle throughout my body.

  “What's in this stuff?” I asked.

  “It's better if you don't know,” he said. I shrugged and almost went back to gulp down the rest, even with the gagging, but I stopped short and looked back at him.

  “Who are you and where am I?"

  “That's two questions.” he glared. But then his eyes softened a little at me, as if my attitude struck a chord in him. Gotta be honest with you, it kinda gave me the creeps.

  “I'm Lionel,” he said, his voice softer than before.

  “And you, Lionel,” I said to the old man, “You saved me and brought me here? Why? And again, where is here?” Instantly, Lionel's face soured.

  “I didn’t catch that last part, but it was definitely too many questions,” he snapped. “Finish the drink, and I'll show you.” I grumbled, but I slid the rest of the brown liquid from the cup down my throat. Then I clenched my stomach in preparation for a gag reflex, but it didn't come. In fact, the tea wasn't bitter at all. Lionel must have noticed because he shook his head at me slyly.

  “It's an acquired taste,” he said, I couldn't see his face under the cloak's hood, but something told me he was smiling. “Come on,” he continued, holding out his hand to take the cup from me. “I think you'll find moving is pretty simple now.”

  I couldn't have put it better myself. I shoved the covers off of me and nudged my body out of the middle of the large bed, my feet touching the cold, wooden floor first. Sitting on the bed, I handed the cup to Lionel. Then the rest of my body rose, and I stood upright. However, moving still seemed harsh and full of pressure around my waist. Without much thought to the man in the room, I lifted my hoodie and T-shirt just enough to see my stomach. Only, my stomach wasn't there.

  It'd been replaced with wraps and wraps of white gauze that were slightly tinted red.

  “I-"

  “It was worse on your backside,” Lionel informed me, pointing to my back. I felt my cheeks flushing; my skin growing hot. I hesitated to lift my hoodie any higher with him standing there.

  “Oh, come on now, kid,” he chided. “ I already put the bandages there. Look or don't; I didn't pull anything weird."

  I drove myself away from the thought of him looking at me, and forced myself at the bandages on my back.

  I wished I didn't. They were substantially more red and splotchy.

  I remembered Halsey pushing me down against the wall, tearing up my back. That awful confused and fearful look on her face right before I fell over the side of the bridge.

  “The waterfall,” I said slowly, remembering what happened after I'd hit the river. “There was rumbling, and then...nothing."

  “Oh yeah,” Lionel nodded. “You fell over a lot more than a waterfall. Look.” He pointed at the window. I walked over to the other side of the room, the bandages around my stomach forcing me to stand up straight, and drew back the drapes to see out the window.

  I saw nothing but gray. As far as the eye could see. Occasionally, there was the faint outline of a house, or a pile of...something. But it all looked like someone had dropped a big vat of gray paint over the world. Then, I saw something different. A wall so tall, I couldn't imagine ever having the chance to get back up. Up at the top sat the thinnest horizon of colors—a dim brown and orange of streetlights, and in the middle was dark and deep blue, pouring over the wall.

  “The waterfall,” I whispered. As it fell, I watched the blue color seep out of the water, until it was just gray liquid crashing into the ground and becoming the ground I saw outside. I turned around and looked at Lionel, who sat on the edge of the bed facing me now.

  “Where exactly is here?"

  “It's nowhere exactly,” he said, “And just outside the borders of everywhere. We call it the Outskirts.”

  “That sounds like some old gibberish.”

  “I'm losing patience with you. I answered your questions. It's not my fault if you don't like the answers...” Lionel sighed. “It's a land where old and broken things end up,” he explained. “The dumps of the Dust."

  “What kind of old and broken things?"

  “All sorts. Bits of destroyed Depression Zones. Agents too."

  “Are you a Depression Agent?” I asked. The question hung on the air for a moment before he waved his hand, blowing it away.

  “It's my turn for a question: what do you want with my cloak?”

  I sat down on the bed next to Lionel, which surprised him. It surprised me a little too. Even with the cloak on over his head and how demanding he'd been when I woke up, I got a vibe from him that he wasn't a scary dude. A little mad, maybe. But, wouldn't you be if someone were after your clothes?

  I filled him in on why Chug, Woodstock and I chased him through town. I also told him how we were fugitives, and apologized for probably getting him mixed up in it. He said not to worry about it.

  “Nobody bothers to come here if they can avoid it,” he said. “You're safe for now too”

  Once he'd heard rest of the story, he leaned forward a little and hummed in thought.

  “So you need it to save a friend.” he summarized. I nodded. “A noble cause,” he decided. Guilt tugged on my heart.

  “Noble,” I echoed. “I didn't think of it that way.”

  I didn't think it noble at all. Ever since a target had been put on my back, saving Dart had become a means to get it off, and get the heck back home. I wanted him safe...but I didn't want to die in the process. It was different with Chloe. She was family. My only real family. Death was second to rushing in and saving her.

  But then, I thought, I rushed in to help Dart all the same. Why the second thoughts now?

  Fortunately, I didn't have to answer myself.

  A large THUMP shook the whole house, followed by a loud yell: “HEEELP!” Then another ground-shaking THUMP.

  “Your friends are awake,” Lionel said, rising to his feet. “Come help me with t
heir tea before they die."

  21. Woodstock Takes A Tea Bath

  Piping hot tea in both hands, I followed Lionel past a gray kitchen with gray utensils and pots and pans, up a flight of gray stairs, and into a room with a bunch of gray mattresses. On one of them, Woodstock flailed left and right. His face was beaded with sweat.

  Chug was near the door when we came through it.

  “What took you so long?!” he shrieked in a high voice as we came in. “He's been bangin' and flailin' everywhere. Woulda slammed me flat into the ground if I didn't get away!” He pointed down to the mattress next to Woodstock. It sat at a forty-five degree angle, smashed right in the middle.

  “He's going into shock from the pain,” Lionel growled. Then he turned to Chug. “Why did you guys have to dive in after her?”

  “What were we supposed to do?” Chug retaliated. “Leave our friend to die?"

  “Your buddy here's gonna be the one dead in a minute."

  “Then what do we do?” I asked, looking up at Lionel. The hood had shifted on his face so I could see from his nose down. His lips were shut tight. He thought for a moment. Then he held out his hand to me.

  “Give me the tea,” he ordered. I obeyed, handing him a cup of brown liquid. He walked over to Woodstock, just far enough to avoid being pounded by one of his strong limbs. Then Lionel took the cup and splashed the hot liquid in Woodstock's face.

  Woodstock jerked upright, roaring in pain and anger.

  “The second cup!” Lionel shouted.

  “You're hurting him even more!” Chug shouted. He started to run at Lionel and tripped over a mattress. I stood there wondering whether to help him up or not.

  “Bring the tea!” Lionel ordered, pulling me back to reality. I ran over with the cup, managing to scald my finger on just a drop of the stuff. Lionel took the cup and with his other hand, pinched Woodstock's nose shut. Then he poured the hot liquid down the boy's throat.

  Woodstock's scream transformed into this mix between a shriek and a gurgle. He finally swallowed to avoid choking, and the moment he did, his screaming stopped. It left me with enough silence to reminded me to help Chug up. He sucked in air through his teeth as I pulled him to my feet.

  “Are you—” I started to ask.

  “I'm fine.” he snapped. “What about...” We looked over at Lionel for an update. His eyes were glued to Woodstock, who'd covered his face with a corner of Lionel's cloak to wipe off the scalding hot liquid.

  “That. Really. Hurt.” Woodstock finally said. “But it just stings now. Why?”

  “That's the tea for ya,” Lionel chuckled. “Does its job well."

  “Yeah, thanks for bathing my friend in boiling hot liquid,” Chug said. “Now, tell us how we ended up here.”

  I jabbed him in the elbow.

  “Be nice,” I muttered. Chug said nothing, but jabbed me back.

  “Girl's right,” Lionel said. He rose to his feet and sat down on a mattress facing us. “I didn't have to bring you here. Could have let you drown.”

  Chug gave me a look like, this guy's a little more nuts than I thought. Lionel shook his head and introduced himself to the boys, then pointed his finger at me.

  “She came first,” he said. “Fell over the side of the wall just as I reached the bottom. Barely managed to keep her from sinking into the depths of nothing below. You came next, loudmouth.”

  Chug scowled, but said nothing.

  “Yeah, I could hear you screamin'. Like a big ol' banshee. You weren't that hard to pull out. Injuries weren't too bad either. Pretty sure you only lost consciousness 'cause of how hard you fought me comin' up out of the water."

  I held back a laugh. Sounded just like Chug to resist help.

  “Last was big guy over here,” Lionel said, nudging his head at Woodstock. “He hit the bottom so hard, the water solidified into that ground out there before it even drifted away from the falls."

  “Hold on, senor,” Woodstock said. “I'm not that big.”

  “But you were unconscious, boy.” Lionel chuckled in his whip-crack of a voice. “Dead weight is much heavier. Also made you the hardest to drag out here. Thankfully, I don't live too far from the entrance."

  “We're in the Outskirts,” I told the boys.

  “The Outskirts?” Woodstock answered, his voice shakier than before. I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “You know about this place?"

  “I know enough to want to leave, mija.”

  “We're not going anywhere until we get that cloak.” Chug decreed. He turned towards the old man. “Lionel, was it? Thanks for helping us find you, but we're gonna need that thing you're wearing."

  The next two seconds felt like two billion. I felt my jaw drop to the ground. The tenacity of this kid continued to surprise me. The minute after he and his friends were saved from death, he was right back on track. I admired his ability to stay focused, but at the same time, he made me want to rattle his brains around to see if any common sense was in there.

  “Sure,” Lionel nodded. “I'll give it to you, as long as you're willing to do something for me."

  “What is it?” Chug shot out his chin as if to say, I just fell down a waterfall and lived. What's next?

  “I want you to enter my Depression Zone and shut it down,” Lionel said promptly.

  “You want us to what?” I asked. Lionel sighed.

  “One sentence is never enough for you, is it? The bottom line is, I betrayed Disorder. You kids call it being a rogue or somethin', but I decided long before that label that his life wasn't fulfilling. But Disorder wasn't havin' that—this is before he got tied up by your Officer buddies—so as punishment, he used my granddaughter to betray me right back."

  “That's how you ended up here, isn't it, senor?” Woodstock asked. Lionel nodded humbly.

  “He influenced her into kickin' me out of my own Zone.”

  “So you want us to knock around your grandkid—take your Zone back?” Chug asked. “Then we get your cloak?"

  “I don't want you to touch her!” Lionel cracked his voice at the boy in anger. Then he adjusted the hood over his head. “Sorry. I mean, if you don't gotta hurt her, don't. I'm worried for the kid—she's my kin. Disorder's the one who made her this way. Just shut down the Zone. She's not the Zone Holder of the place or nothin', so the whole thing should just fall apart, and if I'm lucky—"

  “If you're lucky,” I finished, “she'll fall right down here and join you in the Outskirts, where all the old and broken stuff goes.” It added up to me. We had to save someone to save our friend. Since he saved all three of our lives, I counted it fair. “We'll do it,” I told him.

  “Yep.” Chug nodded in agreement. “Where's the place at, anyway?"

  “Hold your horses, ese.” Woodstock rushed to Chug's side and put a hand on his shoulder. He put his other hand on me, and pulled us both into a mini-huddle.

  Now that he was standing, I could see just how many bandages were on his body. Lionel's tea was no joke. Just one cup was enough to regain my energy and turn my pain to a dull ache. Splashing an extra dose on yourself must have been the secret to a full recovery.

  “You told me Mr. Reggie said the Depression Force can see us in the Zones, and you still want to go in?” he whispered. Only, his whisper was pretty much his normal voice. “We just barely got away from those guys, and that crazy hombre on the bridge did not let us off easy. Are you sure we can't just—” he hesitated for a moment, pulling his words back and replacing them with: “Isn't there another way to get Dart back?"

  “What are you suggesting?” Chug asked. “We get the Depression Force's attention? Leave them dots that connect to the Academy? Or, I know. We could leave Lucy on their doorstep. If she comes to them nicely and without Depression Agents, they'll just let her explain everything, right?”

  As blunt and rude as he was being, I couldn't help but agree. The Depression Force was out of the picture. This was our only plan. There was no backup or easy way out that would guarantee Dart's
survival, and me getting home.

  “Chug's right,” I chimed. “If sensible—well, if mostly sensible Officers like Scott are attacking us without a second thought, then I don't think Lieutenant Hollister's gonna give us a chance either. Not to mention, even they did believe us, they would have no element of surprise—they'd have to take on the Headmistress head-on. You were the one who said—"

  “Yeah, yeah, I know what I said about her, mija.” Woodstock sighed, understanding he'd been outvoted. “So what about Chug? Scott and Stark roughed him up too, and he didn't get any of that tea. Are you sure he should—"

  “I'm not missing any part of this,” Chug declared. “I need to get to the Academy so I can give Takao a sock in the nose. Can't let the Depression Force get in the way of that. You neither, Wood."

  Woodstock flinched at Chug's comment. Without answering, he sat down in deep thought. I pulled out my cell phone, wondering how much time we'd eaten away since Jitter Alley.

  The clock read: 11:45pm, Wednesday, January 10th.

  “Whatever you choose, choose now.” I told them.

  “I don't like this idea,” Woodstock said, “but if you guys think this is the play, I'll back you up.”

  Awesome, I thought. Some of the tension in my stomach subsided. I waited for him to release us from the huddle, but he held tight.

  “And Chug, my name's Woodstock. That's my only name. Got it?” He said it so seriously, I wanted to tell him I got it. Chug said nothing, but nodded at him.

  Then Woodstock took his hands off our shoulders, breaking up our huddle.

  “We'll go, Lionel,” I said to the old man. “Now how exactly do we shut down a Depression Zone?"

  22. Your Typical Post-Apocalyptic Chase Scene During A Phone Call

  It was safe to say I hated Zone-Hopping. It didn't matter who was dragging me along for the ride, either.

  Each time, I felt like I was dough being pulled along by someone, accomplishing nothing but stretching my body everywhere. Then there was a sensation of my body snapping back into place which let me know we'd arrived.