Hero (Book Two)

by Laura Frances

  Cash watches them, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. He looks at me for a few seconds, smiles gently, and says, “Let’s get moving.”

  I nod, taking longer than necessary to break the gaze. There are emotions in his eyes, and they are familiar to me. They’re the same ones I feel when I’m thinking of Edan. Sadness pulls at my heart, and I have to walk away to gather myself. He misses his friend.

  I carry nothing extra. Only my gun and a backpack with my belongings slung over my shoulder. I would argue that I can be more useful, and the words are just on the edge of my tongue. But it feels wiser to start with only a little. I don’t want to unload gear on someone else when the weight becomes too much for me.

  Norma exits the house dressed in a thick coat that falls to her knees and heavy winter boots. I love seeing her well cared for. I smile when she approaches me.

  “That coat looks warm,” I say, feeling the puffy fabric on her arm. Norma laughs, a breathy sound.

  “I think it doubles as a cushion in case I fall.”

  I laugh too. Cash must have insisted that she wear it.

  “Where are your things?”

  “One of the boys has my bag,” she says, eyeing the straps on my backpack. “Someone can carry your things as well, dear.” Her hand lifts to wave a soldier down, but I stop her. Handing off my bag wouldn’t help my efforts to appear stronger than I feel.

  “I’ll be all right,” I say. “It’s you I’m worried about. I’ve seen how steep the path is.”

  “Plenty of strong arms to lean on,” she says, winking. My face heats.

  Cash approaches from my left, his hand finding the small of my back. He’s checking for the gun; making sure I didn’t stash it in the house.

  “Armed and ready,” I say. The corner of his mouth twitches.

  “Take care of yourself up there, soldier,” he says. The humor fades. “Ask for help if you need it. You’ll be stronger soon enough. No one will think less of you.”

  “I know,” I say. “But I’ll be fine.” He nods. He wants to say more, but he won’t. Norma grins, her gaze sliding between Cash and me.

  “Something funny?” I say, raising an eyebrow at her.

  “I couldn’t have wished for better. For either of you,” she says. I sneak a glance at Cash, and I’m happy his face has colored as much as mine.

  “Hug me, dear,” she continues, arms stretched toward me. “I think my cousin wants you to himself for a moment.”

  I shake my head and roll my eyes, because even if Cash can’t, I can see the glint of teasing when she says it. Before, when all that separated my unit from Norma and Albert was a single wall, our visits were heavy with grief. But now, in the fresh air and the shadow of the mountain, there’s new life to our friendship. I hug Norma for too long. I won’t be the first to let go.

  “Sweet child,” she murmurs in my hair. “I’ll be safe, and so will you. I’ll have the mountain to protect me, and you’ll have Cash.” She pulls back and smooths strands of hair from my face. “I’ll see you very soon.”

  “I love you,” I say. I say the words to her freely…and often. I didn’t say them enough growing up. But it is love that I feel for her. She is my family, regardless of blood.

  “And I love you,” she says.

  When she leaves to stand closer to a metal barrel filled with fire, my gaze follows her.

  “Protect her,” I say. I meet Cash’s gaze. “Please. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  I’m not worried that she’ll be captured or shot. I’m worried that the mountain will win her. She is old and fragile, no matter what she says. I’m afraid the hike will drain the last of her strength, and I won’t be there to hold her in the end.

  “Promise me,” I whisper, because the thought makes my throat ache.

  Cash looks at her too, and I feel foolish. Of course he’ll protect her. She’s the last of his family. I’m relieved when he looks at me and doesn’t appear offended.

  “With my life,” he says before facing his body to me and stepping closer.

  “Will I see you at the top?” I ask. I only ask it because I can’t think of anything else; not when he’s standing this close, looking at me this way. He just nods. I nod too…and swallow. I wish my mind would shut up. Words are tumbling, scrambling around my brain. I’m thinking that the others are probably watching. They’re probably smirking and teasing. I’m thinking maybe he’ll kiss me goodbye. My gaze flicks to his mouth, then back to his eyes. My insides knot. I didn’t mean to look at his mouth, and now he saw me do it.

  I lift to my toes and wrap my arms around his neck. I bury my face in his shoulder, where it’s tucked away and safe from the kiss that might have been coming. Not that I didn’t want it. But I don’t know how to want those things without feeling afraid. We could all die still. Cash pulls me closer, his arms tight around my back.

  “I’ll be fine,” I whisper, because I know what he’s thinking. The last time we said goodbye, his father tried to kill me.

  “Promise me,” he says. It’s unexpected, so I pull back enough to look at him. His expression is full of worry.

  “I promise,” I say. “I’ll be fine, Cash. I’ll see you at the top, right?”

  He presses his lips tight and exhales.

  “Right.”

  We’re about to part ways when I touch his arm. Something he said earlier today doesn’t make sense to me.

  “Why is the army on standby?” I ask. “The Southern army. Why aren’t they coming yet?”

  “Solomon,” Cash says. I shake my head, confused. “Solomon believes more Watchers will join the Resistance. If the army comes in full strength, the Watchers still serving the Council will feel like they have to fight them. And many of them will die. Solomon asked for more time to convince them to join us.”

  “Was Solomon a Watcher?”

  “Yes.” It makes sense, but I can’t imagine Solomon killing innocent Workers. I can’t see him holding a gun to an Outcast’s head.

  “And a friend to my mother,” he says. “I grew up knowing him. The Resistance was always about the Watchers. Convince them to abandon their posts, and the Council has no strength. If most of them join us, this will be much simpler. But—”

  “But Jace,” I say. His eyes harden, affirming my guess. “Jace attacked the barracks. So now the Watchers are fighting each other.”

  “Right,” Cash says, his jaw tense. “Now we’re the enemy.”

  It’s wrong to hate. Hatred is poison, and I know this. But Jace makes me feel it.

  “So no army yet.”

  “Not yet. But with Takeshi and the others present, it won’t be long.”

  Cash leans down and kisses my forehead. He looks hard in my eyes, his intensity reminding me that I promised I’d be fine.

  “See you at the top,” I say.

  “See you at the top.”

  4

  There are three paths to take into the southern edge of the valley, and we split into groups, spreading our force across the face of the mountain. I’m on the center path, because it is the easiest to climb. I walk beside Meli, watching the back of Drew’s head and thinking of Aspen. Cash is on another path with Norma.

  We’ve been hiking for two hours, and already my legs are tired. There’s a nagging ache in my thigh, where Titus dug a needle to steal my blood. When I changed clothes earlier, I noticed the bruise is turning yellow. So is the one across my jaw. I touch the burns on my cheek, feeling the thick, leathery skin that’s formed over them. The wind on this pass has turned all my exposed places numb.

  “Do they still hurt?”

  I turn to find Meli watching me. My head shakes.

  “Not really.” I drop my hand. I don’t want to talk about it.

  “Ian told me what they did. Pretty sick if you ask me.”

  “He said it’s a game to them,” I say, shrugging. “Called me a lab rat.”

  Meli groans. “Not
sure I want to be there when the king gets his hands on them.”

  “What’s he like? The king. Is he like Takeshi?”

  I didn’t know Takeshi was the prince when I was near him, but now I see it. His hands were in everything, always involved in the planning. When he talked to me on the roof after Edan died, I felt calm in his presence. I hope the king is like that too. I’m tired of cruel men.

  “No one is like Takeshi,” Meli says, grinning. “But yes. The king is good. He’s kind, but when the details surrounding the valley started to stack, he was furious. Even punched through a wall.”

  My eyes widen. Meli laughs and nods.

  “That’s right. So here we are. The extension of his fist.”

  I like that. I like the sound of that, and pride is ballooning in me. Meli stands straighter, fierceness in her eyes. I smile and turn back to the path.

  “That’s a good name for us,” Drew calls over his shoulder. “The Fist.”

  “Or Eavesdropping Crybabies…”

  Meli winks at me, and I grin.

  “Or,” Drew says, turning to walk backward. “Emotionless Single Ninja-bots.” He laughs at his own joke. “I like that one.”

  Meli laughs too. “I prefer being single. Makes the emotionless ninja-bot part a whole heck of a lot easier.”

  “Don’t know what you’re missing, my friend,” Drew says, smiling and turning back to the path ahead.

  I look at Meli for understanding. She nods to Drew.

  “Old married man right there. His wife is one of the cook’s assistants at the palace.”

  “Won me with a soufflé,” Drew calls back.

  “It must be so hard for her,” I say. “Knowing you’re here.”

  Drew’s red hair bobs with a nod. He pauses his steps until I’ve reached him. Meli walks just behind.

  “She understands,” he says, hands gripping the straps of the large pack he carries. “I was already military when she met me. She knew what she was signing up for.” He smiles to himself, and I wonder if he’s drawing up an image of her. It reminds me of my parents, the love I saw in their eyes.

  “What’s she like?” I ask.

  “Gentle,” he says. “She’s my opposite. Always sweet and thinking of others.”

  “And her name?”

  “Alice. Her parents named her after Alice from Alice in Wonderland…because of her hair…”

  He looks at me, realizing I’m not following what he’s saying. “It’s a story about a girl who falls into a rabbit hole and finds herself in a completely different world.” He smiles. “Her hair is blond, like my wife’s.”

  “She must be so worried,” I say. Guilt creeps into my chest; a part of me feels responsible for his absence from her.

  “I like to think so,” he says, puffing his chest and feigning arrogance.

  “What about you,” I ask Meli, who walks a step behind on my right. “Do you have family waiting back home?”

  “It’s family that brought me here,” she says. I stop walking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some of my ancestors traveled North after the earthquake,” Meli says. “They were never heard from again.”

  Soldiers pass us, stepping around where we block the path. My mouth is gaping.

  “I don’t expect to find their descendants,” she continues. “But I’ll fight in their honor regardless.”

  We walk on in silence, and I fight against mental images of Meli’s family, their lips trembling in the cold wind—their bodies shivering against brick walls.

  The rocks are growing larger, and Drew helps me when my feet slip. Ahead, the other soldiers begin discussions about when we should stop to sleep and what the safest location would be. Trees, I’m hearing, are a requirement. We cannot sleep out in the open, exposed to the sky.

  After a few minutes, I ask the question I’ve been hesitating over. I turn to Drew and say, “What’s a rabbit?”

  The stars twinkle behind the branches that hang over me like a roof. I’m lying on my back, legs stretched over a thin mat. A scratchy blanket keeps the wind from biting, but it isn’t enough to stop the shivering. Pain shoots through my back.

  Several yards to my right, the soldiers are sitting in a clump, murmuring. I can hear little bits of what they’re saying, and I want to listen. If I get up, they might stop.

  “It’s the border that’ll be the biggest problem. They’ve got anti-aircraft missiles.”

  “So we get our guys in there, and they shut ‘em down. There’s no other option if the army’s gonna get through.”

  “You volunteering?”

  A pause.

  “Yeah. I’d volunteer.”

  A chuckle.

  “I’ll keep that in mind when I talk to the general tomorrow.”

  The conversations fade and blend, so I rise from the mat, wrapping the blanket tight around my body.

  “Hannah,” Drew says, scooting to clear a place for me on a log. “Come eat.”

  Everyone’s eyes are on me as I sit. I meet their gazes, moving over their faces and wondering what they must be thinking of me. A man hands me three bar-shaped packages the size of my palm.

  “Thank you,” I say. He smiles and settles on his rock again.

  “What are they?” I whisper to Drew. I glance around, and conversations have started again, though some eyes still find mine.

  “Protein bars,” he says. He takes one and peels back the packaging. It doesn’t look like much, just a plain brown bar. But when I bite into it, the taste is so surprising that my eyes close and a satisfied groan rises from my throat.

  Drew grins. “Chocolate.”

  “Hannah,” someone says. I follow the voice to find an older soldier peering at me from across the clearing. He reminds me of Solomon: lean strength and a graying beard. He stands and walks over, settling on a rock near me. “Will you tell us about the valley? Help us prepare?”

  It takes a few seconds for me to say yes. I’ve never described the valley before, and the task feels like more than I can handle. But he’s right. They need to prepare themselves.

  “What do you want to know?”

  The man leans forward, arms propped on his knees. “Tell us about your life. What were your days like?”

  For a moment, I lose myself in memories. The silence of the mountain fills with the chirping of bugs and leaves rattling in the cold wind. Everyone waits. Images flash in my mind: a gray sky, my mother’s tears, my father’s wide eyes when he was dragged from our unit.

  “I was alone for most of it,” I say. “At least, alone in my own unit. I had Norma.”

  “What happened to your parents?” someone asks. She’s scolded for it, but I don’t mind. They might as well know.

  “When I was eight, Watchers came and took my parents. They were shot,” I say. I’ve never said those words out loud before. It’s never been necessary to explain what I’ve lived, because I was always surrounded by people who were living it too. My body aches with longing.

  “My mother was sick,” I continue. “She had a bad heart.”

  “From the smog,” a man mutters. I nod.

  “Many people are sick from the smog. But I think there was more. I think…I’m not sure, but I think my parents were rebels. At least that’s what the Council said. And I remember my father sneaking out after curfew more than once.”

  “What happens if you’re caught after curfew?” Drew asks.

  “You’re shot. As soon as they see you.”

  “There must be exceptions,” a young man says. He scoots forward on his rock, straightening his back, shoulders strong. The expression on his face says I must be wrong, and he must know better. My blood warms. “Certainly they make exceptions for medical emergencies. What about childbirth? They can’t just shoot everyone who leaves their unit. You’d think they would understand that anyone risking it would have a good reason.”

  Heat crawls up my neck, spreading over my face. My heart beats faster.

  “They mig
ht understand it,” I say, eyes hard. “But that doesn’t stop them. If a woman is pregnant and needs attention, she’s given a small light to shine from her window. Watchers come and take her to a medical facility. But yes, if she wanders out alone, they will kill her.”

  The young man matches my stare, but his eyes have softened from arrogance to confusion.

  “That’s insane,” he murmurs.

  “Yes,” I reply. My gaze falls.

  There’s silence while everyone absorbs my words. I’m sure they must have known these things, at least in part. But maybe hearing it from me makes the whole thing suddenly real. I hate being the one to tell them it’s all true.

  5

  I dream of a red-haired girl running through the dank alleys of the valley. I’m following, calling her name, but she doesn’t turn. I can’t reach her, and the place she’s going is dangerous; the fear of it is cutting through my body.

  My eyes fly open, and I lie in the silence of the mountain, listening. This sensation is familiar. My ears fill with my pulse, and my body tenses, waiting. I know something woke me, but I can’t hear anything past my heart. When nothing happens, I lift my head to scan the camp. Soldiers linger on the edges. I barely make them out in the darkness. When my eyes shift to the sleeping bodies, Drew’s red hair is bobbing in the moonlight. He’s lying on a mat, but he’s propped himself on his elbows. I think he’s listening too, and the idea sends a twinge of fear through me. He must have heard it—heard the sound that I can’t remember.

  I look again at the soldiers standing watch. One silhouette presses a rifle to his shoulder and leans like he’s aiming, sweeping the gun back and forth slowly, peering into the dark. His hand moves over the body of the gun, and a narrow, red laser cuts across the open air. I sit up more, ignoring that my lungs are begging for a deeper breath. I ignore the pain shooting across my hips from lying on this thin mat. It doesn’t matter…not when the soldier starts inching toward the shadows, his posture tense.

  I grew up hearing about the beasts that roam these mountains. That’s my first thought as the soldiers take careful steps. Drew rises from his mat, stumbling half asleep toward the men who guard us. The closer he gets to them, the steadier he walks, until finally sleep is shed.