The Union

by T. H. Hernandez

  My muscles burn as I climb, inching closer to Jack. I let go, reaching for him. He grabs me below my wrist and hauls me up. My feet scramble, knocking the top two slats loose, sending them downstream.

  Safely ashore, I turn, searching for Bryce. I find him barely hanging on to what’s left of the bridge.

  “Grab the end,” I yell.

  Jack reaches for it, but Bryce slips under, taking the length of the rope with him before Jack can get a hand on it. The little air remaining in my lungs exits in a wheeze. I stare at the spot where he vanished, seconds feeling like hours, pass before he reappears, panting.

  Another slat rips away and Bryce disappears beneath the water again. Oh hell no, he is not going to die trying to rescue me. I have plans to be royally pissed at him for the rest of my life, and he is not going to ruin this for me.

  I tie another rope around my waist and yell over the roar of the raging creek. “I’m going back in. Hang on to that end.”

  Jack, Lisa, and Colin voice their objections, but I move closer to the edge before they can stop me. They grasp the rope winding it around themselves as I climb down what’s left of the bridge. Somehow the current is even stronger than it was mere moments ago.

  My heart pounds a violent beat, and my eyes dart frantically, searching for Bryce. He bursts to the surface, choking and clinging to the remains of the footbridge, exhaustion etched into his features.

  I inch my way over to him, operating on pure adrenaline. “Grab onto me,” I yell. He wraps his arms around me and I twist until I get the rope wound around both of us. “Okay, pull,” I call up to the others.

  Bryce and I cling to each other as we’re hoisted up, gripping the roots when we reach the bank to keep from slipping back in, until we’re pulled over the side to solid ground.

  We sit on the shore, muddy, soaked, and out of breath. When I meet Bryce’s gaze, relief mixed with regret are threaded through his gray eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say to him then look up at the others. “You all risked a lot to come find me.”

  Lisa smiles and bends down, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and squeezing. When she releases me, Colin reaches a hand down to pull me up and bear hugs me until I can’t breathe.

  36

  Trust

  I blindly follow the others back to the house, incapable of thinking for myself. Lisa bombards me with questions but I shake them off, in no mood to answer. I’m too busy fighting the desire to run after Cyrus.

  Colin chats with Bryce as if everything is just fine. I grab Lisa’s arm and pull her back so we’re separated from everyone else. “Lis, what’s up with Bryce and Jack?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why are you with them? What are you doing out here?”

  She opens her mouth to say something but the back of the house comes into view. My eyes lock on Lucien’s fresh grave and my legs give out. I stumble before Lisa reaches out to catch me.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  No, and I’ll never be okay again, but I mumble, “Yeah.”

  A dark blue pickup truck, similar to ones that run around on the ground level of the Union, is parked in front of the house.

  I halt, scanning the area for any sign of Walker or Hopp.

  “What’s wrong?” Bryce asks.

  “Is this your truck? We need to get out of here, like now, before your friends come back.”

  He furrows his brow and parts his lips, like he’s going to say something, but only shakes his head.

  “No, it’s not your truck?”

  Jack moves to the cab and climbs behind the wheel, essentially answering my question. Bryce holds the passenger door open for me, but there’s no way I’m sitting up front with either of them. I hoist myself into the back. Lisa glances at the front, but ends up climbing in next to me followed by Colin, leaving Bryce to sit with Jack.

  I crawl to the cab and lean back, stretching my legs out in front of me, Lisa and Colin on either side of me like human bookends. I close my eyes as the truck pulls away from the house, bouncing across the mud and rocks. We move further from what has been my home for…I don’t know how long.

  “What’s the date?” I ask.

  Lisa pauses, counting on her fingers.

  “It’s August 30, I think,” Colin says.

  I’ve only been here a few months, but I’m having a hard time remembering my life in the Union. This is home now. Or it was. I’m not sure where I belong anymore.

  “Who were those people you were with?” Lisa asks.

  “They saved me.” In more ways than one. I’m not comfortable revealing anything else until I have a better grip on what the hell is going on. I want to ask how much they know about Walker and my kidnapping, but I’m too drained to even open my mouth. Bone aching weariness settles over me, and I give into it, nodding off.

  A dramatic change in speed drags me from a dreamless sleep. I open my eyes and wait for the fog to clear. The air is warm and dry — enough that Lisa and Colin are no longer even damp.

  We pull to a stop at the Union’s back wall. Jack and Bryce get out as Lisa, Colin, and I jump down from the back. A man approaches Jack, his dark hair overflowing beneath a red baseball cap, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Throw your rain gear in the back,” Jack says to me.

  I take off my remaining boot and both socks, tossing them into the truck bed before doing the same with the pants. Finally, I flip back my hood.

  Lisa gasps. “Evan! Your hair…” I toss the jacket and ball cap and run my hand through my still damp hair.

  “Damn. You’re hot as a blonde.” Colin gives me a crooked smile.

  Jack exchanges a few words with the man before the guy climbs into the cab and drives off. Jack walks up to the Union wall, running his hands along the surface and pulls something. I stare in amazement as a door seems to magically appear.

  Unlike the dark narrow corridors I was taken through on my way out, these are clean and well lit. We head down a long hallway, my friends’ boots clopping on the concrete floor in contrast to the slap of my bare feet. Jack leads us to a service elevator, motioning for us to climb in before pushing the button for the ninety-fifth floor.

  We exit into a corridor that leads to a crowded sidewalk alive with nighttime activity. The glaring lights, shrill noises, and deep thump of the bass set my teeth on edge. Bryce places himself between me and the busy evening activities, careful not to touch me, as he guides me to a door a couple of buildings down.

  We enter a hotel lobby where Lisa leads the way to another elevator and up three more floors. Lack of food, overwhelming emotions, and too many things to process all occupy a space inside me, duking it out for the top spot.

  Lisa tugs me down the hall and opens a door on the left. “See you in the morning,” she calls out before pulling me in and closing the door behind us.

  Chaos gives way to numbness as I take in my surroundings. The room is large with dark wood flooring and a wall of nothing but windows. Two king-sized beds with crisp white sheets and soft mustard-colored blankets occupy the bulk of the space. My bag from the train sits on the one closest to the windows.

  When I turn to Lisa, she’s smiling, her apple cheeks glowing. “How…” I start.

  “It’s a long story, but once we figured out you’d been taken into the Ruins, Colin grabbed our stuff. We ended up in the Southwestern Province and checked into this hotel. We’ve been living out of here when we’re not in the Ruins.”

  “Wow.” The bed sinks beneath me, soft and decadent. “I said it before, Lis, but thanks.”

  Her eyes glisten as she steps toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “You’ve lost weight. I feel like I’m going to break you.”

  “I’m okay.”

  She releases me. “I didn’t think you were going to come back with us.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to either.” I get up and walk over to the windows where the bright craziness of Union nightli
fe glows three floors below.

  “That guy you were with…”

  “Cyrus.”

  “Did you love him?”

  I turn to face her. “I do.” The ease with which I can express my feelings about him with Lisa contrasts with my inability to tell him how I felt. The hollowness returns, building momentum. I can’t talk about Cyrus now, so I change the subject. “So, you and Jack, eh?”

  She smiles at the floor. “Yeah.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “After you went missing, he told us that he and Bryce are undercover detectives.” Time stops and my eyes freeze open. “Did you know that? No, I guess you couldn’t. Anyway, that’s how Colin got into your room to get your stuff. Bryce just flashed his credentials and they opened the door for us.”

  “Wait, back up a sec.” The words bounce around inside my head like a rubber ball, but they don’t make any sense.

  Lisa lets out a soft laugh, but her voice is laced with awe. “Yeah. I was shocked, too. They’re investigating smuggling or something. They can tell you more. But anyway, he just took charge of the situation, and it was kinda hot.”

  I shake my head, trying to get the pieces to tumble into the right boxes. This is the exact opposite of what I thought I’d so cleverly deduced. How can they be detectives? I was in school with Bryce mere months ago.

  “I…I need to clean up,” I mumble, grabbing my pajamas out of my bag and heading into the bathroom to take my first decent shower in forever. Setting the water temp to a perfect 105 degrees, I step into the stall and let the heat and steam envelope me as my mind goes blank. I stand for a few minutes after turning off the water, enjoying the sensation of the warm drops trickling down my skin before drying off.

  When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize myself and it’s not just my hair. My face is thinner, all the baby fat I used to hate is gone, but it’s my eyes that are the most different. Besides the deep shadows beneath them, they’re tight, bold... stricken. No amount of makeup can cover up what’s in my eyes.

  Lisa’s in bed reading when I re-enter the room. I climb into the other bed and lay on my back. It’s like sleeping on a cloud compared to my recent accommodations. A sudden stab of guilt pierces my core thinking about my friends sleeping on the hard ground. I get out of bed and lie on the floor but I do take the pillow and a blanket with me. I’m not a complete martyr.

  “What are you doing?” Lisa asks.

  “The bed’s too soft.” I meet her gaze. “I know we need to talk, but I can’t, not right now.”

  I close my eyes and somehow manage to sleep. Not a restful, regenerative sleep, but a fitful one, overflowing with disturbing images of pain, death, and unbearable loss.

  37

  Disturbing Images

  The sun angles through the window, stretching across the floor when I wake. Lisa’s not in her bed, nor in the bathroom.

  “Lis…” I call out, but get no response.

  Getting up, I toss my blanket and pillow on the bed and get ready. I dig around in my bag for something to wear, and my hand brushes my tablet. I pull it out to several text messages from my mom. I sigh and lean against the counter. What am I going to say to her? The unvarnished truth will only land me on the next train home, not to mention the shitstorm that’ll follow if I tell her everything I learned in the Ruins. This particular drama is going to need to wait.

  I get dressed in a pair of shorts and T-shirt and grab my flip-flops, the footwear that used to be a staple in my wardrobe. They’re yet another reminder of the stark contrast between my two lives.

  The door opens and Lisa waltzes in with a paper bag and a steaming cup of…oh my god, is that coffee?

  “Good, you’re up.” Lisa says, handing me the bag and cup. “It’s your favorite — cappuccino with a drizzle of caramel.”

  “I think I love you,” I say, taking the coffee from her and inhaling the aroma, letting it wrap around my brain. Inside the bag are a blueberry muffin and a banana. My shorts slip down to my hips when I move. “Hey, Lis, can I borrow a belt?”

  She rummages in her duffle and tosses me a brown leather belt. I thread it through the loops and tighten it as Lisa’s brow furrows, but when her eyes lock onto my biceps with their new definition, she keeps whatever she’s thinking to herself.

  I take a sip of my drink, savoring the creamy rich goodness before turning to stare at my tablet, contemplating my next move.

  “What’s wrong?” Lisa asks.

  “My mom. She texted me. I’m not sure what to tell her.”

  “She just wants an update on your latest adventure. When we went into the Ruins this last time, I told her we were going sailing. I’ve been texting her as you every week since you…disappeared. Oh, and she’s been bugging me, er you, to call, so you should call her. Soon.”

  Warmth fills the space that had been occupied by cold dread and I smile. “I don’t know what to say… I keep saying that, but it’s true.”

  She shrugs. “I always knew we’d find you and I didn’t want her to worry.”

  While Lisa takes a shower, I pick eat my banana, trying to determine my next move. A knock interrupts my thoughts, and I set down the muffin to open the door.

  Bryce stands on the other side, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, rocking back on his heels. “Hey, Evansville.”

  I cringe at the nickname, no longer finding it cute. “Hey.”

  “Are you hungry? Do you want to get breakfast?”

  “Um, no. Lisa brought something for me.”

  “Oh.” He glances past me and shifts his feet. “I thought maybe we could talk. With Jack and me, I mean. Would you mind?”

  Wow, he’s not wasting any time. “Do I have a choice, detective?”

  His head snaps back and his mouth drops open. “Of course, you do.”

  Might as well get it over with. “Fine.” I grab my coffee and follow him down the hall to a room on the right. He presses his finger to the scanner and opens the door for me.

  Jack sits at a table studying something on his tablet. He glances up and smiles, indicating the chair across from him.

  I take a seat, Bryce dropping into the chair on my right.

  “How are you this morning?” Jack asks.

  “Okay, I guess.” No doubt they have a fair number of questions, but I want to get my mine out of the way first. “So, Lisa tells me you two are detectives.” I turn to Bryce. “Was anything you told me true?”

  He rolls in his bottom lip and glances at Jack, but doesn’t answer.

  Jack shifts in his chair, as if he’s about as comfortable with this as I am, and folds his hands on the desk. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  Something about this whole scene is a little too much like those cop dramas my mom loves so much. These people are supposed to be my friends, not giving me the third degree. “Is this an interrogation?”

  “No,” Jack says. “We’re just trying to piece together what happened.”

  I narrow my eyes. “If you want to hear what happened to me, start by telling me what you know. Then I’ll decide if I can trust you. Because right now? I wouldn’t trust either one of you to watch my coffee.”

  Bryce’s eyes blaze with sudden anger. “The last time I saw you, I told you I loved you. The next time I see you, you’re kissing some other guy.”

  A burning sensation claws up my chest. “Oh, no you don’t. You do not get to be the injured party. I was kidnapped, nearly raped, and would’ve died if it wasn’t for that other guy. All you ever did was lie to me.”

  Bryce’s shoulders slump and he lets out a long breath before lifting his head to look at me. “I’m sorry, Evan. More sorry than you’ll ever know.”

  It’s a little too little, way too late. “Up until last night when Lisa clued me in, I believed you were smugglers in a territory dispute, and I was caught in the middle.”

  He lifts his brows. “A smuggler?”

  “What was I supposed to think? You
lied to me about your name…” I shrug. “I figured everything else was bullshit, too.”

  He sits back hard against the chair, his head falling forward before he and Jack do that whole silent communication thing again, and Jack leaves the room.

  I walk over to the window and stare at the horizon, trying not to think about my friends in the Ruins, but I can’t stop myself. The ache deep inside me would dull some in Cyrus’s arms. I blink back tears knowing that will never happen again, so dwelling on it will only prolong the heartache.

  My gaze drifts closer, to the Union’s neat rows of buildings, manicured patches of grass, perfectly sculpted potted plants. It’s hard not to compare it to the Ruins. The Union is so clean, so orderly, so…unnatural.

  Jack returns a few minutes later with Lisa and Colin.

  Colin throws me a crooked grin. “Hey, EvTay, how’re you doing?”

  I give him a small smile in return, realizing how much I’ve missed my friends. “Hanging in there.”

  Bryce takes a deep breath and begins a long and winding tale filled with characters, drama, and intrigue even more fantastic than the story I made up in my mind.

  38

  Drama and Intrigue

  “I grew up in the Western Province,” Bryce starts. “The youngest in of four and the only boy. My mom’s an artist, my dad a detective, or at least he was up until five years ago.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Before he disappeared, he’d be gone for long stretches at a time, and when he was home, he was edgy. The last time, he just never came back. Weeks turned into months, and months into years.”

  He moves to the window and stands with his back to it, hands stuffed into his front pockets. “I wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I was accepted at the Hemingway writing community in the Northwestern Province, but shortly before the end of my last year of school, two agents approached me, trying to recruit me. They knew about my plans, but kept at me, telling me I could help find out what happened to my dad.”