by DC Little
The soft suede had crinkled under his hands, and she hoped the wrinkle would fade. A few people still had some clothes from the World Before, but mostly everyone wore clothes made of leather. It was rare that children wore new outfits rather than ones handed down from others.
Being an adult now, she finally had a new garment. She reverently smoothed her cloak one last time, letting the idea settle within her. Adult. Being an adult came with responsibilities she didn’t know if she was ready for, including Choosing Day.
“What did you see?” Tucker’s imploring eyes pulled Mercy from her thoughts.
“What? Nothing. I just fell asleep.” She stood up, slipped her bow over her shoulder and head and readjusted her quiver. The knife settled with reassuring weight on her thigh. She had only known a life of walking around armed and ready—even if nothing ever came.
“Don’t give me that, Sis. I know that look. What did you see?” Tucker’s green eyes blazed down on her.
“Ugh. You’re relentless.” She hopped down the rocks to the river where she splashed cool water on her face. She liked it better on this side of the ravine. The larger river carved a wider canyon than their home valley. Its steep sides protected her from peering eyes and cradled her in beauty. The only place she liked better was the secret spot Tucker had shared only with her.
“And you always evade my questions.” Tucker followed and stood over her, arms crossed and jaw set, just like their mom’s when Mercy knew she was in trouble.
“It was nothing, just a face.” Mercy shook the water off her hands and scanned the canyon. This time of year she should be able to find some delicious cattail reeds to munch on. Her stomach growled, propelling her upriver to the tall grasses that grew along the bank.
“A face is nothing? Was it someone you recognized?” Tucker followed her, his quiver rattling as he stumbled over the rocks.
She laughed. Usually sure-footed as a mountain lion, Tucker only stumbled when completely preoccupied with something that really bothered him.
“Well, he seemed familiar.” She dragged it out, teasing him. She always eventually told him...everything, well, almost. Tucker was her best friend and confidant, even if he was seven years older and her brother.
“Not from the ravine? Not from Zion?” He grasped her arm.
She tugged her arm away, annoyed by his physical pursuit, but she froze when she caught his gaze. A deep intensity flaming in his eyes held her there, her heart racing, matching his own. He knew.
“No. He had short, dark hair, almost like he had sheared it, a clean-shaven face...and Tuck?” She leaned closer to whisper, “He had THE eyes.”
“The bright blue ones?” His eyebrows knitted together.
She nodded, her breath coming in gasps. Even in her excitement, self-reproach filled her. Who became excited about an imaginary guy? Yet, thinking of those eyes filled her body with a pulsating energy and her heart with longing.
Tucker dropped her arm, and the color in his eyes faded. “Change is here.”
“He’s not here, Tuck. It’s just some fanciful…” She stopped. There were some things she didn’t tell anyone, not even her trusted brother. No one needed to know she secretly hoped she wouldn’t have to choose one of her friends to wed in less than a year. The thought made her skin crawl. She saw them all as her brothers. How could she be matched with someone she had grown up with?
They all waited, though. She saw them watching her, seeking her out, some bolder than others. It was the woman’s choice, and with the boys outnumbering the girls, it made life hard on many of the young men in the ravine. Even her brother was unmatched. At twenty-seven, a man really should have a wife, but he and several of their friends remained matchless.
Ryan had been the first to be chosen. When Olivia came of age, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who she would pick, and he didn’t deny her. Mercy sighed, not that she would have chosen Ryan. He was ten years older and just as protective as Tucker over her.
Like Ethan. Her parents and his parents assumed she would choose Ethan. Sweet, sensitive Ethan. They grew up together, practically as siblings. How could she become a wife to him? She shook her head.
So, yes, those blue eyes...they became a fantasy, one that no one else needed to know about.
A strange call sounded through the canyon, high-pitched and wild. Both Mercy's and Tucker’s heads shot up and cocked to the side to hear any further alert. When the low warble echoed to them, Mercy hung her head.
“Not again,” Mercy muttered. “Didn’t we just have one of these?”
“Stop fussing.” Tucker slung off his bow and nocked an arrow. “It’s for your own good.” He turned to snare her with eyes once again intense. “You need to be prepared.”
“Would you stop saying that! I’m tired of the whole you’re-going-to-save-us-all thing. It’s too much pressure.” Mercy crossed her arms, intent on not joining this drill or any in the future.
Tucker stopped, his eyes softening. “I know. It is a lot, Little Sister.” His hand, now even bigger than their father’s, rested on her shoulder, reminding her of the weight of responsibility that they both held, though in different ways.
She dropped her head, warring between anger and self-pity. It wasn’t fair, but with that thought always came her mother’s response, “Life isn’t fair, Sweet Girl. You just have to make the best with what you are given.”
Yet, what had she been given to help her fulfill her brother’s prophecy? Sure, she could hit a target better than most. People called her the best hunter in Zion, though she knew her brother beat her. How did that make her a savior of her people?
She wasn’t the leader that her father was, nor her brother or Arland or Tyler. They were the leaders. She fought with most everyone. She didn’t see the best in people like her mother and Tucker did. She saw them as a whole, the good as well as what they lacked.
Tucker pulled her against the rocky ledge, his eyes scouring the top of the ridge, and his head cocked to listen for footsteps.
Her temper flared, reminding her once again why she could never lead. Her hot headedness had gotten her into more trouble than she could remember. Like now. She could have easily kept stewing in the open long enough to get hit, but in this moment she didn’t give one blasted care if she did. It was just another stupid drill.
Her muscles tensed in fury as her senses, too accustomed to reacting to these drills, turned into hyper-drive. Her heart raced, more from anger than adrenaline. She sensed her brother’s pulse, which remained steady as he watched the ridge line. She would hear if someone approached, their eagerness more audible than their footfalls. Hiding wasn’t the problem. She and Tucker could remain here without being caught unaware, but they wouldn’t.
She sighed. Public embarrassment from her father far outweighed her desire to rebel against the pointless drill. “Come on. Let’s join in before they mark all the good opponents.”
Tucker turned toward her, reading her eyes before a slow smile tugged on his lips. “You always come around, Sis. Let's dust them with green.”
Mercy punched his shoulder lightly before they scrambled up the rocky ledge and into the foray. For the moment, she pushed back the heavy weight of her brother’s vision of her future and the thought of escape through bright, blue eyes. She evened her breathing, her senses on alert, and decided she’d win today’s game.
>>>— ORION—<<<
Orion drew in a sharp breath, the rush of his pulse almost drowning out the incessant click, slide, click of that blasted lighter. Keeping his eyes on the Old Man who sneered at him through the darkness, Orion inched closer to his sister sleeping peacefully in her bed. He would have to train her not to sleep so heavily.
“You don’t want to wake her,” Meyers warned in a stealthy, low tone. He leaned forward so the thin shaft of light sneaking in from the curtain Orion had left open landed on his eye patch and a vicious scar running down his face.
“You have about three seconds to get out of my sister�
��s room.” Orion said the words between clenched teeth, one hand on his sling and the other on a piece of metal he had sharpened into a knife and wore on his hip.
“Or what?” Meyers sat back in the chair, a wicked smile on his lips. “You’ll clobber me with a pebble?” His raspy laugh filled the room.
Orion watched his sister’s eyes shoot open as she silently gasped. It would be better for her if Meyers thought she was still asleep. “You’re going to wake my sister, Old Man. Why are you here?”
“Ahh, straight to business. Have you lost your sense of humor? I used to love that about you—kept me on my toes.”
Orion’s eyes briefly caught Lily’s. Even in the dark, he could read the fear behind them. The older she became, the more her distrust grew as the Old Man showed her off to other coalition leaders that visited or his top generals. Orion hoped she understood his message to keep still.
“You shouldn’t be in my sister’s room. Let’s finish our discussion in the study.” Orion edged his hand around to where his knife hid on his hip and slipped it into his hand while keeping Meyers’ good eye on his other hand pointing out the door.
Meyers groaned as he rose to a stand, his hand grabbing onto the stick he used as a cane. “Dang leg. You know it’s your dad’s fault. The leg, the eye, the hand, all of it.”
“Oh, so it was my dad’s idea to attack a defector camp on their home turf?” Orion spat out as he made a show of tucking the covers around his sister, slipping the knife into her hand as he did.
Meyers grunted an incomprehensible reply. Keeping his back to the wall, his face constantly watching Orion, he motioned him out of the room. “I may be old as you say, but I didn’t gain command by stupidity. You first, boy.”
With one last glance at Lily, Orion warily watched Meyers with narrowed eyes as he edged his way out of his sister’s room and into the dark hallway. He thought about taking his escape with the dark covering him, but hesitated as he looked back at his sister’s door.
“I wouldn’t,” Meyers said easily.
The click of the safety going off on the handgun Meyers always carried sent the hairs on Orion’s neck standing on end. Bile rose to his throat as he thought of the last eighteen years of this man playing house with his mom and his sister.
There had been a time when Orion had fallen prey to his stepfather’s seemingly friendly antics, but he hadn’t even reached ten before he realized the underhanded play Meyers was capable of. It took Orion another five years to have the courage to stand up against it. Then another five until he finally left...cut himself out of the Old Man’s reaches.
His mother seemed unperturbed by Orion’s stories as she traveled further into herself over the years. He glanced over at the room she and Meyers shared, his skin crawling. His once beautiful mother had wasted away and now barely left her room. Each time he returned home, he feared she would be gone, leaving his sister all that more vulnerable.
“The study, yes?” Meyers urged him toward the room to the right, pointing at it with the barrel of the gun. The sound of his uneven gait pushed Orion forward.
Orion’s hands felt along the dark wall until they hit the door handle. He used to be amazed at how Meyers had kept his living quarters in such repair as the rest of the city fell apart around them. Of course, Orion now understood the man had no interest in how others fared, only that they followed his orders.
A candle flickered in the study, as if the man had expected their meeting. Orion backed into the light, prepared to defend himself. Meyers had been after him for a solid month, if not longer, under the guise of friendship, even fatherhood. His muscles bunched, knowing the man did nothing without forethought and cunning. No, he wasn’t concerned about Orion’s well-being. He needed him for something.
Meyers sighed with contentment as he rested in his ratty office chair, a remnant of the days before the lights went out. It creaked with his weight as the Old Man leaned back and hefted his damaged leg to rest on top of the desk.
“Here at last. You know, you’re a hard kid to track down. Where have you been hiding out?” Meyers' tone remained neutral, almost friendly. “You’re looking skinny.”
Orion glared at him. Weariness made his legs quiver, but he wouldn’t give Meyers the satisfaction of sitting down and lowering his guard.
“You used to be such a talker.” Meyers pulled a glass toward him along with a decanter probably filled with the nasty moonshine that burned like liquid fire down your throat. The guy drank too much of it...got his mom drinking too much as well. The drink would end up killing her. His heart ached as anger tensed his muscles, causing his fists to clench against his sides.
Meyers lifted the glass toward Orion, but he only crossed his arms, hiding his clenched fists as he stared at the Old Man. “What’s this about? I don’t have time to watch you inebriate yourself.”
“Inebriate, huh? Such an educated young man to be living on the streets, don’t you think?”
“Better than under the roof of the devil himself.”
Meyers’ raspy laugh interrupted his guzzle of the drink, and he snaked a sleeve across his mouth to catch any drips. He would have the maids wash the jacket tomorrow. Maids. Orion had almost forgotten what it was like to be clean. He looked down at his own grimy jacket sleeve, remembering what it was like to have freshly cleaned clothes, water to wash in, all the food he could eat, and a warm bed.
Meyers pounded the desk, still laughing, though it sounded more like he choked on the liquid he deemed his medicine. No. Living clean, full, and warm wasn’t worth seeing the destruction this man dealt on a daily basis.
“You know,” Meyers sucked in some calming breaths, “I had high expectations for you, boy. I knew your spirit from the beginning, took your mom in even full of another man’s child because of it. I saw potential...and you wasted it!” Meyers slammed his fists down on the desk, sending his decanter bouncing into the half-filled glass. They wobbled, barely keeping upright.
Orion didn’t even flinch. Meyers’ temper no longer terrified him. Instead, he watched in wary amusement. “Get to you, did I?”
“See! There it is. Now why couldn’t you use that spunk to continue the legacy I have built?”
“Legacy?” Orion spat out. “More like a fascist tyranny. There is no honor in using your own people the way you do.”
“Well, I didn’t hear you complain about the food or the comforts you had while living here. Your mother and sister certainly do not. Should I let them see what the streets are like these days? Of course, there will always be employment for your sister...well, at least until she reaches a certain age. Your mom, on the other hand, is well past her prime.”
“You slimy, worthless…” Orion took a step forward despite his determination to not let the man under his skin. “What do you want from me?”
“Only what you have been dreaming of for some time.” Meyers relaxed back into his chair again.
“Your decaying carcass rotting in the square?” Orion let the sneer tug at his lips.
Only a slight twitch of his mouth gave Meyers’ annoyance away. “More of a joint desire, let’s say.” He leveled his hard eyes on Orion. “Vengeance for your father’s death.”
>> — <<
Orion stood in the office for several seconds, listening to Meyers’ movements as he limped out of the office and into the bedroom where he settled next to Orion’s mother...the woman the Old Man had been calling his wife for almost two decades, the woman he just called past her prime. Orion feared for his mother, even as lost to him as she was. If Meyers lost interest in her…
Orion shook his head. The Old Man stayed with her for a reason. He had to trust it would remain so. Especially now. Especially since tomorrow he had no choice but to leave as Meyers instructed, possibly for months.
Finally, Orion allowed himself to drop into the chair. He didn’t want to be in this house a moment longer than he had to, but Meyers made it clear, if he left the house that night, the guards would see it as treason
. Not only would he pay the consequences but his mother and sister as well. He had no choice.
He swiped his long-fingered hand down his face, puzzling on how he might figure his way out of this game. The decision tore at him. Leaving his mother, sister, and the girls he protected could have lasting consequences. Plus, the mission didn’t have a high chance of survival. Who would protect them if he never returned?
If he refused to go, his sister would pay the price, something he couldn’t allow. Besides, he yearned for the chance to avenge his father’s death, something he had dreamed about for years, something that had pushed him on when the Old Man demeaned his father’s legacy by taking Orion’s mom as his own wife. He would make the person who took away his dad pay...the person who had ruined his life and the life of his sister.
His sister. He needed to make Lily understand and give her a way to stay hidden...in case he didn’t return. Shiloh was resourceful. He knew she would do her best to keep the girls safe, and she would welcome his sister, her old friend, with open arms.
The chair he had finally allowed himself to sink into had an invisible power over him, keeping him glued to it as his eyes slowly drooped. Maybe he could allow himself a brief rest. How long had it been since he slept without one eye open? Here, his worst enemy slept in the next room, and somehow it made him feel that much safer.
Just a few minutes, and then he would tell his sister everything...he needed to know she would be safe while he avenged their father.
CHAPTER THREE
>>>—MERCY—<<<
Mercy laughed at the antics of two squirrels chasing each other around the pine next to her. Their chirping, sharp and chattering, filled her heart with joy. For the moment, she felt at ease.
Not so at ease she didn’t hear the tentative step behind her. She guarded her reaction, pretending that she didn’t know Ethan stood behind her, watching, always watching. He left his heart open, even as shy as he acted. Knowing how someone felt about you didn’t always sit well.