Tristan nodded. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Tristan wondered if Lucian’s spirit might have lingered at the furnace, the last place his earthly remains existed. Lucian would sure enjoy watching Varian on his knees begging for forgiveness… maybe even singing The Tyrant King. Heck, I’d enjoy seeing that even if Lucian can’t, Tristan thought. A broad smile filled his face. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive Varian, but it would cheer me up to see that. He stood up and headed to the other end of the bunker where the furnace was.
Archer looked back at the six horses pulling the Humvee behind them. “It’s a good thing we been swapping out them horses. Kai’s not-a-sports-car sure is heavy. Otherwise them horses would be plumb tuckered out.”
“With a dozen horses and a motorized vehicle we’ll be able to explore the area surrounding the bunker,” Covid said.
“Gonna need to build a corral for the horses first,” Robin said. “Archer and I can show you how to do that in the morning but fer tonight we’ll have to find somewhere we can tie them.”
Corona looked up. “It’s getting dark.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” Destine said, checking the map.
“We’ll have to pound on the hatch and hope someone hears us… and lets us inside,” Kai said. “Of course, if Varian’s the one who hears us, he may not let us in.”
Covid pointed to a spot on the horizon.” We’ll know soon enough.”
Keiana stood in Fiona’s cramped room, as Nessa and Fiona huddled on the bed. “A bit crowded with three of us in here,” Keiana said, “But I won’t stay long. I only popped in to see how Nessa was doing.”
“I’m all right, I guess. Fiona’s letting me sleep in her room with her for another night. I’m still afraid to go back to my room and sleep alone.”
“You had a horrible experience, discovering Lucian like that,” Keiana said. “I’m sure you miss him greatly.”
Nessa nodded. “It’s sad.”
“You know,” Keiana said in a gentle tone, “I think Lucian wrote some of his best songs when he was sad.”
“Really?”
Keiana nodded. “A creative outlet like songwriting can be cathartic.”
“What’s that?” Nessa asked.
“Something that provides an outlet for your grief… and makes the pain go away. And songs can make others happy or sad, too. Lucian was teaching you to write songs, wasn’t he? Maybe you should take his place as the bunker’s songwriter.”
Fiona shot Keiana an admonishing glance. “Keiana, what are you plotting?”
“Not a thing. I simply thought having a pursuit might comfort Nessa, and she’s already shown an inclination for it.”
Nessa shook her head. “Lucian was special. I can’t do what he did. He said it was an innate ability – something he was born to do. I wasn’t born with that.”
“No,” Keiana said softly. “But you do have something even more important that Lucian lacked – inspiration. Let Lucian’s death inspire you to create the songs he’ll never have the chance to write.” Nessa pondered her words. “Lucian filled an important role in our society. Sooner or later, someone will have to assume that role; I can’t think of anyone better suited than you.” Keiana smiled at Nessa. “Good night Nessa. Fiona.” She opened the door and nearly bumped into Corbin as he ran down the hall.
“Have you seen Dax?” Corbin asked.
Keiana shook her head. “Have you looked in her room?”
“It’s empty,” Corbin said, catching his breath.
“Is it important?” Fiona asked.
“Extremely.”
“She might be with Coralie,” Fiona said. “You could check her room.”
Corbin cocked his head. “Coralie?” He couldn’t imagine two more different people having anything in common. “Thanks. I’ll try there.”
“Be sure to knock first.” Fiona said, watching him race down the hall.
“I wonder what that’s about?” Keiana said as he scurried off. “Oh well, I should get back to my room. Good night, again.” She headed in the opposite direction as Fiona closed her door.
Fifty identical rooms; Corbin tried to recall which was Coralie’s. She had seldom ventured out of her room and, to his knowledge, never invited anyone inside. Coralie was practically a hermit so Corbin found the thought of her entertaining a guest odd; especially a guest like Dax. He wondered why no one had ever thought to put nameplates on the doors.
“You lost?” a husky voice asked.
Corbin turned and saw Ian. “In a manner of speaking. I’m looking for Coralie’s room.”
“Coralie?” Ian displayed a puzzled expression. “Nobody ever looks for Coralie.”
“I know, but she must have a room somewhere. Fiona pointed down this hall.”
“There,” Ian gestured and led Corbin to a door. Corbin knocked. A moment later Coralie, dressed in her nightgown, opened her door.
“Is Dax here?” Corbin asked.
“What?” Coralie exclaimed. “That’s none of your business.”
“Normally, that would be true but I do have business to transact with Dax and—”
A hand reached above Coralie’s on the edge of the door and pulled it open further. Dax stuck her head through the gap, peering sternly at Corbin. “I don’t have any business with you.”
“Consider this an advance on future dealings. Just say ‘I owe you’ and I’ll collect later.”
“What are you babbling about, Corbin?” Dax asked.
“I have information to offer you, but it’s rather time-sensitive so we really don’t have time to dicker. Promise to repay me and it’s yours.”
“I’m busy, Corbin.” Dax started to close the door.
“Arlo and Nico are planning to murder Tristan tonight!” he blurted out.
Dax pushed the door wide open. “What?”
“I overheard them plotting. I figured you’d be interested. I told you we’re kindred spirits, Dax. I’m betting one day you’ll have something of value to me, and when that day comes if you were already indebted to me—”
“Where and when, Corbin?”
“Anytime now. They’re lying in wait – I read that phrase in a mystery novel; quite apropos, given the circumstances.”
“Where are they?”
“Ah, yes. Now, you do agree you'll owe me for this information?”
Ian grabbed Corbin by the collar and lifted him off his feet. “Answer Dax’s question.”
“It’s all right, Ian,” Dax said. “I understand how this little maggot thinks. Fine, I owe you, Corbin. Now spill.”
Corbin pried Ian’s thick fingers from his throat. “The furnace room. Sometime this evening. They plan to incinerate him and let everyone think he disappeared outside the bunker.”
Coralie gasped. “Those monsters!”
“Stay here, Coralie.” Dax glanced at Ian. “Coming?”
He nodded. “I hope we’re not too late.” The pair rushed off.
Corbin massaged his neck. “I’ll be on my way. Pleasure doing business with you, Dax,” he called out after them. Corbin headed down the hall, as Coralie returned to her room, worried about both Tristan and Dax.
Tristan entered the furnace room. He immediately felt tremendous sadness, recalling how he had seen Lucian for the final time that morning in this very spot, having hefted his body into the furnace flames. “Varian!” he called out, his eyes scanning the piles of crates and boxes stacked throughout the room. “Varian, are you here?” Tristan kept remembering Lucian’s face, as he lay on the blanket. He realized there were no ghosts, Lucian’s or otherwise, there to observe them if Varian did show up. But Varian was nowhere to be seen. He’s probably in his room having a laugh at my expense, Tristan thought, having tricked me into coming here and reliving my grief. Tristan turned to leave but discovered Nico blocking his way.
“I’m afraid Varian couldn’t make it,” Nico said. “But we’ll entertain you.”
“We?” Tristan turned back a
nd saw Arlo step from behind a stack of crates.
Arlo carried a roll of duct tape as he approached. “We have an exciting evening planned for you.”
Nico grabbed Tristan and pushed him against the wall. He pulled Tristan’s hands behind his back so Arlo could bind them with the tape.
Tristan felt his heart racing. He knew he couldn’t get away. They were bigger, stronger… and blocking the exit. And now his wrists were securely bound behind his back. “Are you going to kill me like you did Lucian?”
Arlo approached the trembling boy and placed a piece of duct tape across his mouth. “No. Not like we killed Lucian. That was a careless accident. Your demise has been carefully planned— Right down to your funeral, which we’re going to hold momentarily.”
Nico laughed. “We’re going to do the funeral part first. It’s less messy that way.”
“Think of this as an opportunity to join you dear friend Lucian. You’ll end up with him, comingled ashes; but first, you’ll get to experience everything he went through this morning. Except you’ll be alive when we toss you in the furnace.”
“Mmmubm!” Tristan’s muffled cry filtered through his taped mouth.
“What’s that?” Arlo asked. “I think you’re asking why we’re doing this? Varian was quite upset with us when he found out we’d accidently killed your buddy. He said your performance this morning proved we had turned Lucian into a martyr and you were going to use that to crush him. Varian blames us, but if we tell him you’ve disappeared that should put us back in his good graces. We may spare him the details though; he seems more squeamish than we thought. What do you think, Nico?”
Nico shrugged. “Tell him we threw him out the hatch. Say he’s wandering around outside searching for Covid, ha, ha!”
Arlo chuckled. “It’s been a pleasure chatting; you’re such a great listener. But it’s time to say goodbye. Off to join your buddy.” Arlo turned to Nico. “Would you open the furnace door, Nico? I have my hands full.” He dragged Tristan across the room as the bound boy struggled. Nico pulled open the iron furnace door and a gust of hot air blew through the room. The searing flames danced in the furnace, occasionally stretching outside the opened iron door. “Any last words, Tristan? A parting joke, perhaps?”
“Mmmubm!” Tristan cried, twisting his torso and shaking his head.
“Mmmubm!” Arlo repeated. “I’ll treasure those last words and think of you whenever I hear them.” He chuckled. Tristan kicked him. “Nico, grab his feet and help me carry the little brat to the furnace.” Nico latched onto Tristan’s ankles while Arlo lifted him placing his hands beneath Tristan’s underarms. The pair carried the bound boy until he was parallel to the furnace opening. Tristan felt the heat through his clothes and smoke got in his eyes. He felt himself swinging to and fro as Arlo and Nico swung him back and forth. “On three,” Arlo said to Nico. “One.”
Tristan felt his body pull away from the heat to cooler air before swinging back toward the flames.
“Two…” He heard Arlo’s voice as he swayed away from the prickly heat and then swung back coming even closer to the broiling flames.
Chapter Seventeen
Dax and Ian burst into the furnace room. Ian charged Arlo and Nico, tackling them and scattering the pile of crates across the room. The pair dropped Tristan, who tumbled to the floor.
“Wait, it’s not what it looks like,” Arlo cried. “It was just a prank. We were only giving him a scare. See, he’s all right.”
Tristan gave a muffled response.
Dax grabbed Arlo by the throat and pulled him to his feet. Ian did the same to Nico. “The same type of ‘prank’ you pulled on Lucian? Fiona wanted proof of my suspicions: I’d say this proves you two are cold-blooded murderers.”
“Tristan plays pranks all the time,” Arlo said. “We were just playing one on him. We’re not murderers.”
“And even if we were,” Nico said, “what could you do about it? You’re not in charge, Dax. Varian is.”
“Shut up, Nico,” Arlo said.
“No, keep talking Nico,” Dax said. “You’re right; there’s nothing I can do. So tell me, which one of you broke Lucian’s fingers?”
“That was Arlo’s idea. He snapped them one at a time.”
“Shut up, Nico,” Arlo cried.
“Like Dax said, only Varian has the power to punish us. It doesn’t matter if we tell her.” Nico turned to Dax and chuckled. “Arlo did it while singing Ten Little Indians. The kid’s whole body jerked and he tried to scream with each broken finger.”
Dax gritted her teeth and glared at Arlo. “And then Arlo killed him.”
Nico shook his head. “Nah, I did that.”
“Those bruises I saw on Lucian’s body…” Dax began.
“He made a good punching bag.” Nico laughed. “Like I said, Dax, we’re enforcers. As long as we keep Varian happy, we can do whatever we want. Besides, I never liked that brat anyway.”
Ian’s fist pummeled Nico like a pile driver. “I liked Lucian. He was just a little kid.” Nico collapsed, unconscious. Ian advanced on Arlo.
Dax saw the fear in Arlo’s eyes. “Stop him!” Arlo cried.
She shrugged. “I’m not in charge, remember? Ian doesn’t have to listen to me; if he did, I’d tell him to break your fingers one by one. Instead, I’m just going to stand here and enjoy watching whatever he does to you.”
The muscular youth grabbed Arlo with both hands and lifted him by the neck and leg like a barbell, throwing him against the wall. Arlo slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor, badly shaken. Ian pulled him up by his hair.
“Please, Ian, don’t listen to Dax. Don’t break my fingers.”
“All right. That’d take too long anyway.”
Arlo relaxed, giving a relieved sigh.
“I’ll just break your jaw, instead.”
Arlo’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth but before he could protest Ian’s enormous fist slammed into his face, again and again until Arlo went limp.
Ian released Arlo’s hair and let him fall to the floor. “He was right, though. Varian won’t punish them.”
“Especially not if Varian ordered them to kill Lucian and Tristan.” Dax glanced at Tristan, still gagged and bound lying several feet away on the floor. “Tristan’s been through an ordeal; he looks shaken up and he may have been singed by the flames. Why don’t you take him back to his room to lie down?” She picked up one of the scattered crates. “I’ll clean up here and check in on him later. First I want a word with Varian.”
“Mmmubm!” Tristan cried, shaking his head.
Ian nodded. “Gonna need to get a knife to slice this tape off him.”
“Don’t rip the tape off his mouth; ask Fiona to find some oil from the kitchen to dissolve it. You don’t want to rip his lips off with the tape.” She turned to Tristan. “Don’t worry, Varian won’t get away with ordering Lucian’s death.”
Tristan shook his head vigorously. “Mmmubm!” he cried.
Ian picked Tristan up and cradled him like a baby. “Relax, little guy. I’ll carry you to your room.” They left, as Dax stacked the crates, remaining behind with the two unconscious killers. Dax grabbed Nico’s ankles and slid him across the floor to the base of the furnace. Then she walked to Arlo, slipped her hands beneath his underarms and dragged him over to the furnace beside Nico.
Esme knocked on Varian’s door. He was surprised to see her. “Change your mind already?
“Hardly.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“For some sick reason, I still care about you enough that I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I ran into Ian helping Tristan to his room. Arlo and Nico were going to throw him into the furnace.”
“What?” Varian’s jaw dropped.
“You didn’t know?”
“Of course not. Is he all right?”
“I think so. But Ian said you told them to kill him.”
“Í hoped you’d say that. You seem genuinely surprised.”
“I am. I’m going to have to do something about those two.”
“You need to worry about yourself. Once he knows Tristan’s all right, Ian’s going to be coming for you… and so will everyone else when he tells them you ordered Tristan and Lucian killed.”
“But I didn’t!”
“I believe you but a lot of angry people won’t. You’d better find somewhere to hide until they calm down.”
Varian nodded. Esme turned to leave. “Esme.”
She turned back. “What?”
“Thanks. I hope Blaine’s smarter than me and realizes how lucky he is.”
She gave a half-smile and headed down the hall. Varian stood at the door pondering his options. He was all alone now. He has no friends, no allies. They had all turned on him believing the worst of him. Even those he hadn’t alienated by his greed and hubris couldn’t forgive the prospect of murdering one of their own. Varian panicked. Fear pushed adrenaline through his bloodstream as he raced from his room in search of a hiding place. It had to be somewhere no one was likely to go, but even in such a sprawling complex there was hardly an inch which the dozens of teenagers didn’t visit at some point. Except, he thought…
He knew there was one person who seldom visited the bunker’s many nooks and crannies because she rarely left her room – and she never had visitors. Coralie’s a loner with no friends and no one else will enter her room, which makes it the perfect hiding place, he thought. Varian knocked on her door. When Coralie opened it, he pushed his way in. “They’re after me. I need to hide.”
“Who’s after you?”
The QuaranTeens, #1 Page 13