by Terina Adams
“Because he’s dead?”
Nuke ignored me.
“What happened to Archon?”
“Now that was my doing,” Nuke said, raising his weapon. “He saw me at the last, enough to save his ass, but I did clip him as he dived. I should’ve followed up on that, but I was more worried about you. Thought you may have been injured. And I guess I’m not as merciless as I should be. He was on the run, wounded. I couldn’t….” He shrugged to fill in the gap he couldn’t say in words.
“Where’s Jax?”
“Elva dragged him out. He was a helpless babe. But don’t tell him I said that. Sorry if I interrupted something you felt needed doing, but we’ve really got to go.”
The choice to relent and go with Nuke should not be a difficult one to make. Soon, the compound would be overran. But it was. This was revenge taking over.
Be smart.
I turned my back on the destroyed corridor leading farther into the compound. Archon was in there somewhere. Carter as well, no doubt, unless someone had a different story they could share. They ended up here at the exit to the platform, which had to mean they had no other way out of the compound. Stuck in here or not, they were no easy targets. Besides, these guys had come here to rescue me. I couldn’t risk their lives or their freedom by dragging them further into my revenge.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Chapter 34
Jax was on his way back inside, skidding from a full sprint when he saw Nuke and me rushing toward him. Seeing him, this gentle heat bloomed inside me. His eyes raked over me in one swift sweep before settling on my face, holding my gaze for a fraction of a moment, relaying nothing of his emotions.
“They’ll be here soon.” He didn’t need to elaborate.
He waited for us to draw alongside then we all raced toward the opening and the platform together. The sun reached inside, casting the gray into a dazzling light. At least that’s how it looked to me. Sun meant open space. It meant freedom. This was the first time in however long I’d been stuck here I’d seen natural sunlight and it was the most magnificent sight.
I wanted to ask about Carter and any other news of the fight while Archon had me twisted up in his mind games, but that would have to wait until we were away from this place. Instead, I concentrated on sprinting from the tunnel. The heat of the sun hit my face. The rays were scorching, but I tilted my face upward, allowing them to bathe my skin. I’d risk extreme sunburn just for the ability to have the heat touch my face. I thought I would never see the sun a free woman again.
The skirmish continued up ahead. Jax and Nuke picked up their pace, forcing me behind, raising their weapons, readying to engage. I scanned through the prisoners, my heart relenting its knotted hold increment by increment every time I caught sight of one of our party. Elva and Patrick in particular, but I was also relieved to spy Jerome bravely fighting amongst the remaining prisoners.
The sweepers had been outnumbered when the fight broke out. It seemed the compound operated on the belief the prisoners were no threat once grafted. No weapons, no factional nature, they weren’t much of a danger. Lucky, because anymore sweepers and the outcome of today could have been miserable for us.
No weapon, but I was by no means unarmed, Jax and Nuke left me behind and joined the fight, engaging like they had just arrived fresh, fighting with the knowledge that we had perhaps only minutes to be on our way before we would lose our chance to escape.
“Sable.”
My run faltered in seeing Islia in the opening to the only utility at the docking platform. Nada was a prisoner because of me. No. It was time I stopped wearing all this guilt and shame. I didn’t always make smart choices, but I’d made the best choices I could.
“Come, get in,” Islia yelled, waving me over with a frantic jerk of his arm.
I should join in. Persal was as effective as any sweeper’s weapon, but one glance toward the prisoners told me perhaps I wasn’t needed. Dominus had trained Jax and the team to move against the clock. Judging by the way they fought, swift efficiency and accurate strikes, they’d imbued the skill. But we’d suffered on our side. Of the prisoners who’d risen up against the sweepers, few remained.
“Come, child. Time is not our friend!” Islia shouted.
I diverted toward the docking arm and the utility, leaping inside once near. My momentum tumbled me into the seat opposite once inside. Islia remained by the entrance, keeping an eye on the finishing fight and also darting looks to me. “They will succeed. Have no worry of that.”
Said half to ally his own fears and half to calm me, no doubt.
I came alongside him, unable to take my eyes from his face despite what was happening outside. “I’m sorry.” I would no longer carry regrets or shame, but it didn’t mean I would not accept my responsibility in screwing up.
My apology was enough to steal his attention. Tenderness was what I got from his expression. The relief sprung a tingle at the back of my nose, pressure at the corner of my eyes.
“It is only you who blames yourself for what happened. It does not come from me. Nada was a willful boy. I knew the day would come. The senate is greedy for our children. Each year, they send more and more sweepers, and each year, they grow more ruthless. There is no other way but this. My gift to Nada is to fight as Aris, as I never have before.”
“I hope you’re willing to fight alongside a Persal.”
“It is my greatest pleasure to have you beside me.”
Islia took hold of my hands, squeezing them gently between his. The warmth soothed a tightness within me, unlocking the doors Archon had closed. With my hands in his, Islia’s gaze wandered to the graft tattoo he completed less than a week ago. Releasing my other hand, he turned my wrist up, exposing the mess of his inkmanship. He lifted his face, meeting my eyes. And for the first time, I saw surprise on his face.
“They tried. But failed,” I said.
“But this is a wonder.”
“It worked at first. But then….” I shrugged. “I’m not sure if my ability was able to overcome it, or if their experiments nullified the graft.”
“Experiments?”
“I don’t remember any of it. It happened only once. You guys arrived before they could do it again.”
“What is it all about?”
“I was told they wanted to study our factional natures so they could develop more sophisticated ways of subduing us. That’s all lies, of course. I believe they are experimenting in creating mixed factional fighters.”
Islia let my wrist go in his horror, pressing himself up against the door.
“We came across one just now. A sweeper who was both Persal and Aris.”
Islia turned his head away, looking out over the platform.
“I believe that’s why they take the children,” I said.
“They brainwash them and train them to be their army when they come of age and develop their factional natures. The people of the fringe have long believed this.”
“I think they are also studying them. Learning how to genetically enhance the sweepers they have.”
Islia shifted his eyes to me. I knew the look of determination, of a decision made, of finality closing all doors except one. “Then it is good we have started this.”
I was cut off by yelling, which drew both Islia and me to the opening of the utility.
“Go!” Jax was shouting at Islia as the remaining fighters made their way toward the docking arm and our utility. No sweepers left to run from, this was sprint against the clock and the arriving reinforcements.
Islia left me as the others leaped through the door. My eyes gobbled up the sight of Jax flying through the opening, followed by Elva. I withheld the urge to fling myself at Jax, feel his solidness, the warmth of his living vitality, and the beat of his heart. And Elva. I wanted to sweep her in for a hug as well, which she’d likely slug me for. Nuke and Patrick came next, the four of them fit from their days in Dominus. The rest of the prisoners stumbled and panted through.
I had no problem sharing my joy with Ishren, taking his hand only to have him sweep me in for a hug. Fethon had made it too, tumbling down onto the seat beside us, panting as blood stained his clothes. In no time, it was dripping onto the seat. I crouched down beside him.
“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t feel serious.”
The sudden relief was crushed by the sight of the blood. There was nothing we could do, not when sweepers were about to arrive and we had to depart. “There’s a lot.” It was all I could say. No one had special pills, but if we made it out of here, we could find some fast.
“I have a lot to share,” he replied, gently squeezing my hand, disguising his want for me to stop prying with a gesture usually reserved to reassure people. Maybe this was his reassurance, the gentle squeeze his way of telling me he didn’t care about the outcome as long as he could die free.
“You hold on,” I said. “We’ll find something for you once we get out of here.”
He nodded, grimacing behind a weak smile. “Don’t you worry about me, child. I’m were I want to be.”
“Come here, girl.” I turned to find Jerome as well. He opened his arms to me. I rose from Fethon’s side and walked into him, craving more hugs, more physical reassurances that we were going to make it.
“Everyone, find a seat!” Jax yelled from the front.
Jerome pulled me to a seat next to him, but with a quick glance to the front, I noted the seat next to Jax was vacant.
“I’ll sit up front.” I patted his arm and left him.
I never thought I would feel this happy to hear any sounds of takeoff, but the engines thrumming to life, the mechanical whirring that signaled the utility was about to depart, and a big exhale rushed out. It was like I was exhaling the last few days of my life. Maybe I shouldn’t feel like this. We’d yet to clear the compound and lose ourselves in the desert. Reinforcements were on their way—an army of them, no doubt. But I couldn’t stop this feeling. I already reached a low point, lost half of myself, thought I lost my friends. And yet here we were, having survived our first fight.
While Islia maneuvered the utility away from the docking arm, I made my way for the spare seat. Islia knew how to fly, but given his age and how long he’d hidden in the fringe, those days were a long time ago, so it was no surprise the departure was a little rough. Twice I fell into the lap of a prisoner I did not know but welcomed seeing.
Jax reached out, giving me a hand to steady me with as I drew close. I slipped in beside him as the utility pitched sideways, nearly sending me pinwheeling across the space into a prisoner’s lap sitting opposite us.
Jax helped me with the harness. I gave up and moved my hands away, allowing him to clip me in, because my eyes were too busy drinking him up. Once his task was complete, he turned his attention forward and stared at the wall above the guy opposite. It took two breaths before he inched his head around, sliding his black eyes to me. The smile was for me. After what was behind us and what was still to come, he gave me the warmest smile. I stared at his lips and then into his eyes.
We were getting good at sharing looks that spoke things we would not say. And then, hopefully because he could no longer keep it welled inside, he patted my thigh, a gentle, warming pat. One, two pats. He didn’t remove his hand when it was over, his eyes on some place in front of him but his hand on my thigh. I sealed his welcomed invitation by placing my hand on top of his.
I looked down the length of the utility at the survivors. A pitiful number. From the hundreds I’d seen in that dining hall, the survivors did not even fill the utility. And there were no guarantees we would make it clear of the compound. Even if we did, would we reach our destination, reach the very end, be victors in this fight? Perhaps for the remaining prisoners, that didn’t matter. After their incarceration, maybe this was freedom enough for now.
We’d not won. Archon and Carter were still alive, so perhaps one could say we failed. But I could not think that while we were free, nor while I sat beside Jax, his hand on my thigh, feeding me those silent words about his feelings. As subtle as the gesture was, it was everything to me. He’d come for me. Elva, Nuke, Patrick, and Islia too. Five Aris had rescued me. Dad and Holden were wrong. This was my family. My new family.
And I was destruction, and it was me.
THE DOME
In the end there are no victors
Just the people left standing
Author’s Note
Of all the millions of titles on Amazon it’s great you found mine.
Sometimes the hardest part of publishing a book is the reviews. They can be like any developmental editor, shredding. But despite how tattered they can leave you feeling they really are a gift.
In many ways they are even more valuable than a developmental editor because now the people we write for, the readers, get a chance to let the author know what they thought. It doesn’t matter how many times you rewrite, reedit and perfect your work, if you’re not writing what the readers want to read then you’re not doing your job. And the only way a writer can know this is through reader reviews.
And so my dear reader I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly leave me an honest review. I say honest because I want to know what you really thought. If you loved it, please be verbose in your critique. If you didn’t, I welcome you to be as verbose, but please be honest and respectful. I can improve my craft only if I know there is something wrong with it (and an author is the last person that can tell, we love all our babies).
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Thanks heaps. See you in The Dome
The Dome
About the Author
When I wasn’t riding a camel through the Rajasthani desert, white water rafting the rapids on the Zambezi, bungee jumping off the Victoria Falls bridge or hiking the peeks in Pakistan, I was piloting a twin prop into remote aboriginal communities in northern Western Australia or staring down a microscope in a laboratory.
Now somewhat tamed, the microscope has morphed into a computer and I spend more time plotting dire situations for my protagonists than being in them myself.
I am the author of books that won’t stay normal.
