by Katie Ashley
I crept into the corridor. The hallway reeked like an overflowing toilet in the middle of summer. I pulled the neck of my shirt over my nose. Most of the cells were empty. I stopped at the fourth on the right. “Micah,” I whispered.
His head rose up from a lumpy looking cot. “Cadence? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m busting you out.”
Micah was off the cot in a flash. In the low beam from the flashlight, I could see the extent of his injuries, and I gasped in horror. Besides his face being swollen and bruised, I could see the red welts covering his shoulders from where the whip had cut him, and I knew his back had to look worse.
Tears stung my eyes. “Oh Micah.”
He shook his head. “I’m all right. Don’t worry about me. How did you escape?”
“I don’t have time to go into it right now,” I muttered, unlocking the door.
It swung open, and Micah and I stared at each other a moment. A grin twitched at the corner of his lips. “It would probably be the wrong time to say you look pretty cute in my shirt.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed in spite of myself. “Only you could possibly find me attractive at this moment, least of all wearing a blood spattered shirt.”
A raised voice caused us both to jump. “Hey, you! Stop right now!” someone shouted behind me. I whirled around and sent the taser darts shooting at the man. He shuddered and then collapsed.
“Nice job,” Micah said, with a grin.
“Thanks.” Glancing over my shoulder, I said, “I think we better get out of here before someone comes to check on him.”
We sprinted as best we could with Micah being slower due to his injuries. We hurried up the stairs and down the corridor to the music room. The grand piano had been shifted from its place over the grate, and the grate’s lid had been opened and rolled to the side. Maureen and Kellan stood waiting for us. They were wearing backpacks, and they handed one to both Micah and me.
“So you made it all right?” Kellan asked.
“We had a little company,” I said.
Maureen and Kellan exchanged a look. “Yeah, but Cadence took him out with the taser,” Micah said, with a grin.
It was then it the midst of our escape I realized everyone hadn’t been formally introduced. “Um, Maureen this is Micah, Micah this is Maureen—Kellan’s mom.”
They shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” Maureen said.
“Likewise,” Micah replied. He and Kellan shared a tense stare down and then a nod of acknowledgement.
“Well, I guess we better get going,” Maureen suggested.
“Why don’t you go first, Cadence, and then you, Mom. Micah or I can go last and put the grate back on.”
“Just as long as I don’t get left behind,” Micah said, tensely.
Kellan narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay, okay, enough. Let’s get going,” I interrupted, as I crouched down over the grate. Slowly, I eased one of my legs onto the ladder. Images flashed in my mind of me having a klutzy moment, slipping, and then free-falling down. I tried pushing them out of my mind.
Gripping the side of the hole, I eased the other leg in. After I moved the other leg down a rung or two, I was able to grip the rung myself. Somehow I managed to shimmy to the ground without killing myself.
I surveyed the dark, musty surroundings as Maureen made her way down the ladder. She dusted off her hands and wrinkled her nose. “Well, it’s not wonderful, but it’s not as bad as I thought.”
Micah came down next, and then Kellan. Before he made it half way day, he stopped to pull the lid back over the grate. Anthony had been instructed to move the piano back and lock the Music Room back.
When he hopped down, Maureen nodded. “Okay then, let’s get going.”
A long narrow corridor stretched out in front of us. I couldn’t make out how far it went because of how dark it was. Maureen unzipped her backpack and pulled out some flashlights. After she handed one to each of us, we started walking. Maureen went first, then me, and Kellan and Micah made up the rear. I was surprised that Micah could even walk, given his beating. He had refused a shirt from Kellan’s backpack, claiming that it would be less painful for his cuts.
“I’ll treat those the moment we get to our stop,” Maureen assured.
“No problem,” Micah replied, with a wince.
We traveled in silence, our footsteps echoing off the walls. I tried breathing in and out to calm my raging nerves. I would be on edge until we made it out of the corridor and past all the underground entrances where soldiers were camped out. Not that we would be completely out of danger then, but at least I knew we wouldn’t be captured.
Finally, we reached the end. The door, with its circular handle, appeared to be made of iron. Maureen tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. She turned back to Micah and Kellan and smiled. “I think I need a little elbow grease from you two.”
The boys nodded and tossed their backpacks down. Kellan gripped the top while Micah went for the bottom. As they began pushing, their faces contorted from the exertion. Slowly, the door began creaking and groaning, and finally, it popped open. Both Micah and Kellan bent double, panting and catching their breath.
“Way to go!” I cried.
While Kellan snorted back a laugh, Micah grinned. “It doesn’t take much to impress you, does it?” he teased.
Bringing my hand to my hip, I said, “I was only trying to give you guys a little praise, but see if I bother again!”
Both Micah and Kellan laughed. When I turned to Maureen, she smiled. “You’re so much like me sometimes. Of course, I might’ve been tempted to smack them, too.”
I laughed. “Yes, that would be tempting.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t. I mean, it’s never stopped you before,” Kellan said.
“You got that right,” Micah agreed.
“Well, while you guys are whining about a few gentle smacks, I’m going on into the underground.”
And then, I drew my shoulders back and stepped over the threshold. A few steps in and I crinkled my nose. I thought the prison corridor where Micah had been held was stinky, but the first whiffs of the underground totally put it to shame.
“Ugh, why does it smell so bad?” Kellan questioned, sweeping his hand over his nose.
“There’s probably not a lot of ventilation in this particular area. I’m sure other parts aren’t so bad,” Maureen replied. She fumbled in her backpack and produced a map. “Okay, it looks like we’re supposed to take the Old Vanderbilt line up to the Camp Creek. Our contact, Arthur, should be there.”
As we started following the abandoned tracks of the Old Vanderbilt line, my brows furrowed. “Now, tell me again why we’re meeting a contact rather than just meeting up with the Abir?”
“Because, when we imagine gangs, we imagine twenty or thirty, maybe fifty members tops. But the truth is, the Abir ranges in the hundreds, not to mention their above ground contacts,” Maureen said.
“You’re with the Abir?” Micah asked incredulously.
Maurren nodded. “We’ve tried many times to reach out to the Muharib, the Muslim, group, but so far there hasn’t been any unity between the two.”
I shook my head. “I can’t imagine why not. Looks like they would see they were all working for a common good—for belief to be restored.”
“But, at the same time, all of the anger and violence between the groups before was one of the reasons religion became out-lawed. I guess it only makes sense there would still be some of the same animosity,” Micah argued.
Maureen sighed. “It’s just unfortunate all the way around.”
Kellan remained silent with his head down. I could tell the conversation made him uncomfortable. Looking for a way to change the subject, I asked, “And who is this contact we’re supposed to be meeting?”
“His name is Arthur Shand.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. Are you talking about Artie?” Kellan asked.
M
aureen nodded and said to Micah and me, “He was once one of Richard’s top advisors until the Great Fall. That’s when Roarke weasled his way in. When Artie saw what all was happening in Richard’s regime, he joined up with us in secret. After I was arrested, he disappeared for a time. Fortunately, Marcus found him a year or so ago.”
“Um, wasn’t there some talk about him going mental or something?” Kellan asked
Maureen laughed. “Yes, it’s true that Artie’s not all there, so to speak. He had a breakdown after he was fired, but he’s as sweet as he can be. From what Marcus has told me, he earns his living now running a thrift store.”
“Underground?” I asked.
She nodded. “A lot of people use the underground systems to get from place to place without the government knowing, especially since some of the major roads have been turned into toll roads and people simply can’t afford them. It’s not all raging gangs and street warfare. That’s one reason why Richard has had such trouble shutting down the gangs. It’s not like they’re wearing signs, well, not visible ones anyway.”
At the mention of visible signs, my tattoo burned across my shoulder blade. It felt like what I imagined a drug flashback to be like. Instead of tripping out in my mind, I physically went back to being herded into an office where the needle laced with ink pierced and jabbed my skin over and over. I shifted my backpack, hoping to ease the pain. After Maureen mentioned others in the underground, I began to notice a stray person here and there. No one really spoke or acknowledged each other, and they all seemed determined on a destination.
Our path seemed unending. I don’t know how long we walked. After a while, the bottoms of my feet began to ache. From time to time, one of us would dig into our backpacks for water or a granola bar. I guess we were too exhausted because we spent most of the trip in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
When I saw the sign for Camp Creek, I let out a sigh of happiness. Micah snickered beside me. I grinned at him. “Can you blame me?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nope, I was sighing on the inside.”
The closer we got to Camp Creek the more people I saw. Parents with children, teenagers, and the elderly were out in full force. Most of them had the same worn and ragged look about them, and I imagined they were from the poorest areas of the province—ones even harder hit with poverty than mine.
The crossing of Camp Creek and Old Vanderbilt subway lines had once been prosperous and busy. Abandoned storefronts lined the left and right sides. It almost reminded me of a trip we made to Grand Central Station when my parents took us to Washington.
On the left side, a faded sign read “Clothing Store” except the “clothing” had been crossed out and replaced by “Thrift”. Once again, I sighed with relief. We had made it to Artie’s.
A bell over the door tinkled our arrival. A white-bearded man stood at the cash register ringing up a bedraggled looking old woman’s sale. “Try back next week, Mrs. Revis. We should have more pants in your husband’s size.”
Nodding, she took her bag and then swept past us to the door. When Artie noticed us, his face lit up. “Maureen! You made it!”
He rushed over and grabbed her into a bear hug. She patted his back. “Thank you so much for being willing to help us.”
Pulling away, he shook his finger at her. “Not helping you was never an option I could entertain.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Artie looked past Maureen to size up the rest of us. His eyes honed in on Kellan. “And look at you. You were just a little pissant of a kid the last time I saw you.”
Kellan laughed and offered Artie his hand. “Yeah, I guess I had a lot of growing up to do.”
“Looks like you did a good job of it,” Artie replied, with a smile. He turned back to Maureen. “So glad he’s still the spitting image of you rather than looking like Richard.”
Maureen nodded. “I’m thankful for that, too.”
Artie glanced between Micah and me. “And who do we have here?”
“This is Cadence O’Bryant and Micah Greene. They’re friends of ours…and Believers.”
Artie’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that right,” he mused. He extended his hand for both of us to shake. “Glad to meet you, then.”
“Glad to meet you, too,” Micah and I echoed.
Artie clapped his hands together. “I’ll close up, and we can go over to my house for something to eat.”
“But isn’t it a little early?” Kellan asked.
“Nah, it’s already dark outside,” Artie said, with a smile.
Maureen hid her smile behind her hand before saying, “That sounds wonderful.”
Artie “lived” next to his thrift store in what had once been a subway coffee-shop. Tables and chairs were scattered into the corners, and in front of the counter, there were two queen sized mattresses. He noticed us surveying them. “I never know when I might have company, and I always want to offer people a safe place to stay.”
I smiled. “That’s nice of you.”
He beamed with pleasure. “There’s a bathroom in the back with running water. You can clean up. Oh, and there’s some clothes in the back, too. I usually keep out the really nice things instead of trying to sell them. So for you all, they’re on the house.”
Maureen patted his back. “You’re too kind, Artie.”
He ducked his head. “Well, go on and freshen up, and I’ll put us on some dinner.”
The four of us headed to the back. The bathroom had three stalls and double sinks. “Ladies first,” Kellan insisted, beating Micah to the punch.
After the boys retreated back out front, Maureen ripped her shirt over her head and began lathering up, using some paper towels and Artie’s Irish Spring soap. It felt too weird to be disrobing in front of the former Empress, not to mention the mother of the boy who was in love with me. Modestly, I turned my back to her and took off Micah’s shirt. Then I slid off my pajama bottoms. Thankfully, we both kept on our underwear.
The warm water splashed against my skin, and I closed my eyes in ecstasy. It was hard remembering when a bath, if that’s what you could call splashing in the sink, had felt so good. When I finished, I wrapped a towel around me and padded over to the clothes pile. I rummaged around until I found an Oxford sweatshirt that was probably two sizes too big, which I coupled with a pair of jeans.
Once I dressed, I felt almost human again. A glance at my ratty hair sent me leaning over the sink to wash it as best I could with some of Artie’s shampoo. When I finished, I leaned underneath the dryer and began drying my hair.
I glanced up to find Maureen changed into a pair of jeans and a black and silver striped shirt. She pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail. Out of the prison scrubs, she looked years younger. “You clean up well,” I called from underneath the dryer.
She laughed. “I much prefer jeans and shirts over dress suits and heels. I guess I was never made out to be a CEO’s wife, least of all an Empress.”
The dryer turned off. “I think you did a pretty good job. In fact, I think you’d be a great leader for the province.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” she replied, patting me as she headed out of the bathroom.
I picked up Artie’s comb and tried getting the knots out of my hair. I was almost finished when I heard a voice behind me. “Hey, did you fall in?” Micah asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“I’m just finishing up, Mr. Impatient,” I replied.
“Artie has some sandwiches and soup ready for you.”
“Okay.”
Micah whisked his shirt over his head, and I gasped. Angry red whelps from the whip crisscrossed his chest. At my horrified expression, he gazed down. A flush entered his cheeks. “Yeah, guess that isn’t real attractive, huh? With the scars, they’ll be no male modeling in my future.”
I couldn’t fight the tears or my mouth. “You’re such an idiot. I don’t care what your chest looks like now or if you’re going to have scars. I care about how much they hurt you!�
� I turned away from him, grinding the tears from my eyes with my fists.
Micah’s hands gently rubbed my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Cadence. I know you’re not a shallow person to think about things like that. It’s just, I don’t know how to deal with it all. Especially since you’ve got Mr. Perfect out there drooling all over you.”
I whirled back around. “Are you still worried I’m going to choose him over you?”
Micah ducked his head and then nodded.
“Men!” I huffed. “You’re utterly unbelievable!” When Micah raised his head, my temper got the best of me, and I decided to show him, rather than tell him exactly how I felt about him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him towards me. My breath was hot on his cheek as I said, “Now let this put any doubt you had to rest.” Then I crushed my lips to his with such intensity I sent him stumbling backwards. Of course, he ended up taking me with him, and we crashed back into the sink, knocking some toiletries to the floor.
I poured everything I had into that kiss. While I’d set out to prove a point to Micah, it was easy to get lost in my own emotions. At that moment, it felt like there was nothing else in the world besides each other. We weren’t fugitives from the law. We weren’t Believers on the run for our lives. We weren’t on the cusp of a full-on revolution. We were just would-be lovers.
As I slid my tongue against his warm lips, I didn’t care we were in the back of a dingy subway coffee shop where Maureen and Kellan were only a few feet away. All I cared about was Micah and my somewhat out of control hormones.
And if our lip lock sent me tripping, it took Micah completely over the edge. With shock and amusement, I revoked his Gentleman’s status as his hands roamed freely over me. One brush with death and he became Don Juan, eliciting moans from me as his hands slid under my sweatshirt and over my bra. I tightened my arms around him as his hands moved across my ribcage to dig into my hips. In one fluid motion, he lifted me onto the sink. Hooking my legs over his hips, I pulled him closer to me and arched my body against his.
When he jerked away, I whimpered. Desire burned in his eyes, but he shook his head. “We’ve got to stop,” he panted.
