Chapter 6
My legs are heavy and my lungs burn. I’ve not stopped or slowed, running full speed since we left the cells. Labored breaths behind me tell me I’m not alone in feeling like a steady jog would be easier to maintain. But a steady jog to ease our battered bodies is a luxury we can’t afford. We need to put as much distance between us and the cells as possible. We need to get to the Task Center as quickly as possible. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. Time to slow doesn’t exist. I ignore the ache that flares in both thighs and the fiery feeling in the back of my throat. I concentrate on blue skies and green trees, on walks that don’t include shackles, on finding other humans. I concentrate on freedom.
“Which way do we go?” I look to my right and ask Brad.
“It’s down this way.” He points down the corridor, which ends with a door. I’ve never been to the Task Center this way. I’ve only ever walked, chained to my brothers and sister, to a waiting vehicle that took us there. I never knew the buildings could be accessed easily, separated only by a courtyard. We are at the rear of the building, past the area that houses the cells. According to Brad, that courtyard is at the end of the hall, just beyond the door.
“That’s good.” I say the words aloud but didn’t mean to.
“What’s good?” Brad asks.
“The Urthmen are all going to the front gate. They’d never think we’d move to the back of this place. That we’d stay.” Remaining in the building during an escape seems counterintuitive.
“Yeah, only idiots would stay back. It’s suicide,” Xan says. He’s right. But we have a purpose. One that means the difference between escaping alive, or dying here.
“Those guns and the other humans at the Task Center are the only chance we have,” I reply.
“There’s no way those guns will work,” Micah says. He runs beside Xan and is behind me.
“Guns? Give me a break. There’s no such thing as a gun. It’s a myth told to children,” Xan says. Then with a snort, he adds, “Guns! Yeah, sure. Magical weapons that launch tiny metal missiles so far and fast they kill your enemy from a distance and on impact if aimed right. Okay, believe that.” His words drip with sarcasm, with disbelief.
“You can’t be that ignorant.” Pike’s voice surprises me. Typically quiet and prone to listening, he seldom argues. Unless he knows he’s right. In that regard, he reminds me so much of our father. Our father never looked for trouble and steered clear of opinion-based squabbles. He only fought if and when he was certain he had indisputable facts or morals on his side. In this case, Pike is absolutely right. Xan is ill-informed. Or naive. Or simply so jaded he can’t fathom a weapon capable of facilitating our breakout.
“What am I? What’s an ignorant?” Xan asks, his confusion is genuine. He sounds like a child.
“Never mind.” Pike chuckles. “I think you just made my point for me.”
Ara, Kai and I laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Temper has crept into Xan’s tone. “You’re laughing at me?” His anger is intensifying.
The last thing we need now is to be slowed by bickering. If Xan is looking for a battle of wits with Pike, he’s arrived unarmed. Pike is sharp like our father, too. “Nothing, Xan. No one is laughing at you,” I say. “Let’s focus and keep moving.”
“Guns are real and we do have them. The ones we’ve found we’ve repaired. And they work,” Brad says flatly.
“Huh, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Micah grumbles.
“You will,” Brad chirps. His demeanor isn’t antagonistic. It’s matter-of-fact. He’s seen them firsthand. It’s likely he’s seen one fired. The thought of that sends a thrill of hope through me.
We make it to the end of the long, narrow corridor. I try the doorknob, even though I’m certain it’ll be locked. Once that’s confirmed, I pull the key I used on the cell door and try to slip it into the lock on the handle. I expect resistance. I expect failure. I expect to have to break the door down. But none of that happens. Instead, the key slips in without a hitch. I’m stunned. “The same key opens all the doors here.” I mumble the words to myself. They come out as more of a question than a statement. Regardless, Pike overhears me.
“Urthmen really underestimate humans,” Pike says.
“Or they’re amazingly stupid,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s a big security problem if you ask me,” Kai chimes in.
“It sure is,” I agree as I turn the handle. Everyone falls silent. I open the door just a crack, and peer out into blindingly bright daylight. Voices sound. I hold my hand up to halt the others. We freeze in place, holding our breath as Urthmen run by. Nearly thirty of them rush past what they think is a closed and locked door. I listen closely as they pass. Through grunts and huffs, they urge each other toward the front of the building, toward the gate. A few mutter that we will have to go that way. That it’s the only way out. Guess again, I think. We’re right here, hiding in plain sight.
The clip-clopping of their booted feet grows distant. I strain to hear if more approach. When my silence is matched, I look over my shoulder and take a deep breath. “Let’s do this,” I say to everyone. As soon as the last word falls from my lips, I dash out the door and sprint across the paved area to grass as fast as my legs will carry me. Pike, Ara, Reyna, Brad and Kai are behind me with Xan, Micah and the rest of our group.
“We need to approach from the side,” Brad says.
“What? Why?” My mind suddenly swirls around the horrific but very real possibility that we’re running straight into danger. My heart plummets to my feet and I feel the blood drain from my upper body. We’re out in the open. Nowhere to hide. Vulnerable. “Brad!”
“Guards are stationed at the door,” he tells me.
I want to curse. I swallow back the bitterness that’s risen in my throat. I don’t see any guards. But that doesn’t mean they don’t see us. I suppose they’d have attacked by now if they did. “How many at the door and how many inside?”
“Four at the door,” Brad replies. “None inside.” He is breathing hard. “Go right and we’ll loop around the back.”
“None? What do you mean none?” I ask as we veer right. Arrows aren’t raining from overhead and the courtyard is clear. I’m left feeling cautiously optimistic.
“They guard from the outside. But they don’t worry about us inside.” His gait is off. His injuries are causing him to favor his left leg. Nevertheless, I’m blown away by what he’s said.
“They leave you with weapons? Unguarded?” If so, I’d reel at the oversight, at the arrogance and stupidity.
“The weapons are only out when we’re working on them. They’re watching as we work,” Brad says.
I don’t comment further, but with only two Urthmen and dozens of humans, even though they’re bred, they’re taking a lot for granted. Namely, that one bred human will not decide to take a functional weapon, load it and fire. That all of them won’t decide to do that.
We make our way around the side of the building. Pressing our backs to the stone surface, we edge our way back around toward the front. I crane my neck forward and take a quick peek at the entrance. As Brad promised, four guards stand sentinel at the door. I reposition myself so that I can scan the faces of those with me. I signal to them that four will have to be taken out. After everyone nods, I quietly say, “Let’s go,” and feel my insides coil tightly. I feel as though everything hinges on this moment. But it’s now or never.
Every muscle jolts to life and I race to the entrance. The guards look up in shock. They’re left without reaction time. We descend upon them too quickly. They are fumbling for their swords, sheathed at their hips. Within seconds, my blade is buried in one’s gut. He drops immediately. Kai and Xan follow suit, taking out two more with ease. But one manages to turn and run from the fray. He screams at the top of his lungs, bolting. Ara strings an arrow and sizes him up, doing so as easily and fluidly as she breathes, and sends it whistling through the air. It sinks into the back of his
skull and he falls forward, unmoving.
I’m proud of her and want to say as much, but the Urthman’s scream was loud. Too loud. “There’s no way that wasn’t heard,” I say. Worry sends a chill wash over my skin. I shudder against it, but I don’t allow it to slow me. I rap my knuckles against the door. Within seconds, a rectangular slot, higher than my shoulders, opens. Eyes are framed by it. Familiar eyes. “Aaron?” I say.
The eyes widen in surprise. “Yes,” he replies cautiously.
“Let us in. Quick!” I say.
As soon as the words tumble from my mouth, a commotion sounds. A few shouts then several more. I look over my shoulder and feel as if my blood pools at my feet. About a hundred yards away, Urthmen have turned the corner of a building. They see us. They point and yell and look utterly stunned.
“Why would I let you in? And how is it you’re running around without Urthmen monitoring you?” Aaron’s prissy voice and idiotic questions chafe me.
“Aaron, let us in now. They’re gonna kill us!” I urge him after eyeing the Urthmen group mobilizing quickly.
“No way!” Aaron replies.
Anger and fear mounting fast, I say, “Brad, get over here!”
Brad runs over immediately, his gaze wild.
I nod to the slot, to where Aaron’s eye peer out at us.
“Aaron, please, let us in,” Brad pleads. “It’s me.” He looks at his fellow “bred” human squarely. “If you don’t let us in, we’re dead. I’m dead.” Panic saturates his words. He sees the Urthmen moving toward us. We all do. Kai turns from the group and sprints toward the body of a fallen Urthman, face down in a pool of his own blood. He squats and yanks a key ring from the fallen Urthman’s belt. “Are these the keys we need?” Kai holds them up for Brad to see.
“Yes,” Brad calls back.
Kai hurries back to us, doing so with his long, powerful legs in just a few graceful strides.
“Why do you need those keys? You and I know what doors they open. Why do you need them?” Aaron asks.
“Aaron please!” Brad shouts. “It’s me! Let us in!”
“Are they making you do this? Are they forcing you?” Aaron asks.
“Listen to me!” Brad demands frantically. He leans forward so his forehead is close to the upper edge of the slot. He glares through the opening. “There is no retirement village! There’s an arena! That’s all! That’s where I was going!” He holds up his mangled hand. “I’m not useful anymore. Not useful to them. So I was going to be killed for their amusement in the arena! Don’t you see?” His speech is pressured, his words quick but concise.
“That can’t be!” Aaron replies disbelievingly.
“It’s true. All their promises are meaningless!” Brad shakes his head.
“But we’re bred,” Aaron whines.
“It doesn’t mean anything! Bred! Not bred! It’s all a lie! They’ve just been using us until we aren’t useful anymore!” Brad holds up his hand as a reminder.
Rapidly approaching footfalls rip my attention from the tense interaction to the Urthmen. I grip my blade out in front of me, prepared to fight. The rest of our group do the same. But we’re outnumbered. No matter how well we fight, more will hear the scuffle. More will come. If they aren’t already. We won’t survive. Not unless Aaron lets us in.
“Aaron!” Brad screams angrily. “Let us in!” He heaves several ragged breaths. “Your brother, Edward. He wasn’t sent to a retirement village after he got sick! He was murdered! Killed in the arena for sport!”
His words strike a chord. A look of genuine hurt carves Aaron’s features. Immediately, the door is unlocked. We barrel in, and as soon as the last of us enters, Brad and I slam it shut. Clubs crash against the door, the loud banging fast and furious and in rhythm with my heartbeat. “Do they have keys?” I yell over the incessant banging.
“Isn’t it the same key for every door?” Xan reminds with his question and sends additional panic streaking through me.
Aaron shoulders his way through us. He turns a handle, positioned a foot higher than the doorknob. A distinct clicking sound echoes. “It is the same key. But we have a deadbolt. It can only be locked from the inside.” He looks around at our battered-looking group. “They can’t get in,” he adds in a quieter voice.
“They let you lock yourselves in here, away from them?” Xan asks and doesn’t hide his shock.
Aaron looks at him. An odd emotion somewhere between sadness and embarrassment touches his features. “They aren’t worried about us getting out.”
“They worry about others getting in,” Brad chimes in. “I already told you that.” And by “others”, he means us. Humans who aren’t “bred”. The bred humans view themselves as a species separate and apart from us. They’ve been taught to fear us, to look down upon us, when in reality they are no different from us. This truth is lost on the bred humans who slowly gather around us. They stare, eyes roving over us unabashedly, mouths agape. I’m proud when none among us shifts or squirms uncomfortably.
“All of your lives are about to change,” I mean to say in my head, but the words vault from my lips of their own volition. My statement garners the attention of every bred human. They exchange glances. I look from face to face. Their lives will change. Life as they’ve known it, all that they’ve believed to be true, is false. I scan the faces of each person present. Bred and otherwise. All of our lives will change. We will leave this place behind. This life. Together.
Chapter 7
“Aaron! What have you done?” A short, stout man shouts. His face is reddened and his features are gathered to a point. “Why did you let them in?”
Aaron, a tall, willowy man, turns, and for a moment blanches to the point where he looks as though he’ll faint. “W-what?” he stammers.
“How dare you?” the short man continues. “How dare you let these animals in?” His voice is ripe with indignation. I feel the urge to silence him by lodging my fist firmly in his mouth and refrain only because I don’t want to prove his point. But it’s hard not to.
“Jarrod, you heard what they said,” Aaron finally fires back. “There isn’t a retirement village. They killed my brother.” He pleads with Jarrod with his eyes.
Jarrod, still with an unhealthy flush to his face, clamps his lips shut for a moment. His lips remain pursed and his brow low.
Camaraderie is a funny thing. I believed it was inherent among humans. Especially since we’re hunted. Hunted to the point of extinction by Urthmen. I thought that was a uniting point. I thought, a group of enslaved people, people brought together for a common cause, would join forces instantly. That there would be solidarity. I was wrong.
“Your brother looked just like you.” Kai’s deep voice is oddly soothing. Especially when compared to Jarrod’s, which is about as soothing a sound as rocks rubbing together.
Aaron turns to Kai. His eyes shine with unshed emotion. “Yes, he did. We were identical in appearance. That’s how we knew we were brothers.”
I search my memory for the word used when two humans are identical in appearance. Twins! That’s it! I remember now. When I was a boy and people commented on the striking resemblance among my older brother and I, my mother told me a story about how when she was a girl, she once knew a pair of girls who were identical in appearance. That they were twins. I’m about to share what I know, but Brad speaks.
“Bred humans don’t know who their parents are,” Brad says. “We were told that bonds such as that are irrelevant.”
Kai and I look at him. All I can feel is pity. Kai continues, “I saw him. I was there when he…”
“Died?” Aaron finishes for Kai.
“Well, yes.” Kai shifts his weight from one leg to another. Aaron looks like a child beside him, despite being taller than the average human I’ve seen. Kai is much taller, much broader. But something about the way Kai moves at the moment makes him look childlike.
“How did it…” Aaron swallows hard. “How did it happen?”
“You don�
��t really want to know, do you?” Kai asks softly.
Aaron closes his eyes and nods in assent. He opens his eyes and says, “I need to.”
Kai looks at Aaron then lowers his head. In a soft voice says, “I watched. I watched him die.” He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, as if doing so will somehow purge the image from his mind. He lifts his chin. “I’m sorry.”
A few seconds pass. “Me, too,” Aaron whispers.
“He was sick,” Kai says. “I could tell he didn’t look well. His color and the way he moved.”
Aaron sighs. “Yes, he became sick and wasn’t getting better. That’s why the Urthmen sent him away.” He huffs. “They actually told me not long ago that he was getting better when I asked.”
“Lies. All lies,” Brad says. His demeanor has transformed dramatically. Bitterness has crept into his tone and the whiny quality to his voice is fading. “I’m proof of that.” He holds up his injured hand, an angry smirk marking his face.
Aaron’s shoulders sag and his chin drops to his chest.
“Aaron, who cares at this point? Who cares what happened to your brother? Who cares whether it’s true or not?” Jarrod’s viperous voice suddenly fills the room.
“What?” Aaron’s head snaps up.
“You heard me! None of it is relevant. Not to me. Not to anyone here!” He splays his arms wide. “You’ve killed us all!”
“What? What’re you talking about?” Aaron’s face is a mask of confusion.
“This decision you’ve made!” Jarrod glares at us. “To let these mongrels in! It’s going to mean our deaths!”
“Wait, no! Hold on a second.” Flustered, Aaron tries to gather his thoughts. “Jarrod, aren’t you listening?”
The Black Forest Page 6