Once again, I grab Grelyn’s arm and drape it around my shoulders, lifting her to her feet amidst the floating particles of dust that settles in my lungs with each breath I take. A tug almost forces me off-balance as Trevors takes her other arm and insists on carrying her himself, but I maintain my grip on her, knowing that it is best of we both carry her so that we can move faster.
“Together,” I tell him, and he does not argue as he is more focused on her well-being over any sort of power struggle. “Chase, lead the way.”
Chase scurries ahead as Grelyn scoffs, “I can see better than him.”
“But you can’t lift obstacles out of our way,” I tell her, and she clamps her mouth shut, groaning a little as we move.
An ominous creak sounds as, behind us, a beam bends under the weight of the earth, until it breaks, snapping in half and mounds of damp dirt spills into the shaft, filling it, threatening to engulf us. We run, hoisting Grelyn over a fallen beam that we had climbed over on our way to get her, trying not to choke on the suffocating atmosphere as filth fills our mouths, clogging our airways. Chase moves a boulder out of the way as Trevors and I scurry through the mine, ignoring the painful protests of Grelyn as each move bangs her injured ankle across the ground or stretches the gash on her side, and with each step, her blood soaks into my jacket, coating my skin. More thunderous roars rage around us as another beam, bent until it formed a u-shape, snaps, releasing the underground’s fury upon us. Trevors loses his footing, almost taking all of down with him, but before he falls, Chase steadies him, and they lock eyes for a moment as a silent agreement between them forms.
A speck of light reaches my eyes and my heart leaps for joy as the possibility of making it out alive becomes attainable; we just need to run. I jump over a dead body, and, together, Trevors and I hoist Grelyn up so that her feet do not catch on it as he leaps over it as well. The light grows larger as we race through the shaft, challenging death, daring it to stop us. More dirt spills into the mine, forming streams of cud and rock that scurry around our feet in one last attempt to prevent us from escaping. We reach our only exit. As though our minds are one, Trevors, Chase, and I push Grelyn into the opening, and she disappears into the sunlight. I grab Chase and shove him into the hole, refusing to let him die down here. I turn toward Trevors, but before I can ask who will go through first, he seizes my jacket and pulls me backward—this is it; he is going to leave me here—and shoves me through the opening with all his strength as Renal’s arms grab mine and pulls me into the hot sunlight. Blinking as my eyes adjust to the overabundance of light, I whirl around, surprised that Trevors pushed me to safety, and watch as he crawls out, coated in grime and mud, just like the rest of us. He looks at me for a second and his mouth parts just a little, as though he is about to say something, but he clamps it shut at the last moment and rushes to Grelyn, helping her to the medical wing of the compound.
“What were you thinking!” Renal demands, forcing me to look at him, worry etched on his face, and I wonder why as I realize that I have never seen him like this before.
“There were people in there,” I reply, my voice small and quiet compared to the commotion around us.
“Workers.”
“We are charged with protecting Arel,” I say. “Are they not also a part of Arel?”
Renal’s face softens and he glances around, afraid that someone might have seen the way he reacted to my brazenness and lack of common sense. “Go. Get checked out by their doctor.”
I salute him and stalk away, observing the people around me, the mass of workers that managed to escape, spotting the woman I had slapped in order to get her to move, and the arbiters tending to them, not in their usual harsh and cruel manner, but as though they want to make sure that they are not injured, as though they care. The change in their demeanor puzzles me. What changed them? My gaze settles on Chase, and I want to run to him, to make sure that he is okay, but he shakes his head, warning me away, and I agree with him: it’s too dangerous. My feet shuffle across the ground as I mosey to the one-room medical center they have here, hoping that we can leave this place soon.
Chapter 14
Uprising
Reports litter the desk before me, staring back at me, mocking my attempts to read through them as their figures, graphs, and charts overwhelm my brain, threatening to shut it down as I try to make sense of their meaning. Paperwork. I loathe it and had hoped to never spend much time doing it, but it appears that much of what I hoped for will never come to pass. Tapiwa put me in charge of making the mines more productive and with that comes the ugly side of bookkeeping. I pick up a report, and the flimsy plastic-like material it is printed on wobbles in my hands. In reality, each of the reports are just tablet-sized computer screens that are as thin as paper and look like paper, but are miniature computers. Commandant Gant frowned when I asked him to bring me these tablets, because I should have been able to view all the reports on one, but I like having them spread out in front of me so that I can read them with ease and make comparisons, even if it makes this desk in a secluded corner of the command center, which has been loaned out to me among protests from the commandant, look like a jumbled mess. As I study the reports, I realize that production is up as ordered, and Tapiwa will be pleased, but to what end? Once I leave, Commandant Gant will go back to the way things were before I arrived, meaning that the workers will go back to their overworked and starved state.
Sighing, I open and close reports, sending them all to one file in an attempt to organize them into a single account for President Tapiwa, which I will be required to produce upon my return to Arel. Whispering reaches my ears, which stops the moment I look up to see what it is about, confirming that I am the subject of their conversation. Many within the mine will be glad to be rid of me, though I share their sentiments, since I have no desire to be here any longer than is necessary. Tomorrow, Renal and I are to leave. Renal. Where is he? I have not seen him since this morning, something that makes my skin crawl and a well deepens within the darkest corners of my stomach as a portentous feeling settles in, filling me with dread and a forewarning that something terrible is about to happen. I shove it aside, not wanting to dwell on it, but it continues to gnaw at me, ebbing away at the illusion of safety that I choose to engage in. I transfer the reports into a single file and save it, sending it off to Tapiwa, but not before making a copy to give to Commander Vye, just like she had ordered me to.
“So,—”
I close the reports as Commandant Gant walks up beside me and sits on the desk, causing it to creak just a little under his weight, and faces me in a manner that seems innocent but is meant to put me at unease.
“—this is your last night here.”
I stare at him, keeping my facial expression blank, wondering why he is here or what he wants. He knows that I leave tomorrow, making his statement redundant and unnecessary.
“Any plans for when you return?”
What game is he playing? We are not friends, not that friendships are encouraged, but we are not even on amicable terms, and he knows it. “I’ll be continuing my duties in the eastern sector,” I say, gathering up the paper-thin tablets and forming a neat stack with them.
Commandant Gant picks up one of the tablets and bends it some between his hands. Though pliable and durable, they will break if enough pressure is applied or they are put through a fair amount of abuse, and I wonder if that is his intention as he continues to bend it, but before it cracks, he puts it back on the stack, taking extra care to make sure it is even and in line with the others. He places his hands back in his lap and looks at me with a facsimile of a smile, making me uneasy.
“Is there something you want, commandant?” I ask.
“No,” he says, and I start to walk away, having grown tired of this charade, “but there is one thing.”
I face him.
“You haven’t seen Lieutenant Renal, have you? It appears that he has been absent all day.”
Heat forms under my co
llar as my stomach sinks into a bottomless pit of despair. I try to keep my face impassive, but judging by the smirk on the commandant’s face, he knows that he has me where he wants me. “Not since this morning,” I say, keeping my voice calm, unwilling to give him the satisfaction that he caught me off-guard.
“Pity. I was hoping to speak with him before you two leave.”
“Commandant, if you’ll excuse me, but I do have an early start in the morning and would like to get some rest before then.”
He stands up, apologetic for having delayed me and keeping me from getting some sleep, but his demeanor says something else, something more sinister. “Please, don’t stay here on my account.”
I salute him and leave, but before I am able to exit the building, Commandant Gant makes one last declaration.
“Sweet dreams,” he says.
The night air rushes over me as I leave, thankful when the door shuts behind me, allowing me to take in a deep breath in order to calm my quaking nerves as a single thought dominates my mind, refusing to let me go: where is Renal? Worried that something terrible has happened to him, and chastising myself for not being more vigilant earlier, I hike across the compound to our sleeping quarters, ignoring everyone I pass. A few arbiters look in my direction as I rush past them, observing my movements, making me believe that they are watching me upon Commandant Gant’s orders, but I shove my paranoia aside. It will not help me find Renal. Whispers and eyes follow me; I feel them, and the more I know they are there, the warmer the base of my neck becomes, causing pellet-sized beads of sweat to form, creating a glue-like substance that forces my jacket collar to stick to my skin. I burst into Renal’s room. Nothing. Turning on a light, I search for any sign of him, any indication that he has been here or where he might be, but all I find is a single cot with the blanket smoothed out and tucked under the mattress without even a smidgeon of a wrinkle; the nightstand left untouched with only the lamp on it; and a washbasin with a dry faucet, meaning that it has not been used in several hours, but no Renal. Worried, and unable to contain it, I sprint out of the room, looking all around, wondering where he could have gone, while Commandant Gant’s smirk fills my mind, convincing me that none of this is by accident.
A noise stops me, forcing me to turn toward my own room. Is someone in there? I duck to the side, getting away from the windows so that if anyone is in there, they cannot see me. Approaching with caution, I pull out my baton, ready to attack whoever is in my room as I ease the door open and peer inside its dark interior and am greeted with a mirror image of Renal’s quarters.
“Noni.”
I freeze. Crouched in a corner where light would never touch him, is Renal. I put my baton away and close the door before rushing over to him. At first, I reach for a light, but stop, reconsidering my actions as I remember the ill feeling I had when talking to Commandant Gant. Renal gets up and stumbles toward me, unable to stand on his own, forcing me to catch him so that he does not crash into the sink and injure himself even more. Blood drips from his face and onto my left arm, soaking into my jacket, and I gasp when I see the left side of his face so overcome by swelling that there are no discernable features. One eye is swollen shut and more blood drips from his temple and trickles out of his right ear, but it is the injuries I cannot see that trouble me.
“You need to run!” His hoarse voice struggles to form the words and make himself heard, without attracting unwanted attention.
“What happened?” I ask, unable to stop my need to know.
“It was a trap. I should have known. He told me that there was a barbarian encampment nearby that he thought might be a threat to Arel, so I had him lead me to it. We took a transport, but there were others waiting for us when we got there. I don’t know how I managed to get away, but not before they did this.”
I help him up, but Renal shoves me away.
“Run! Go!”
“I’m not…”
“Commandant Gant intends to kill you. You need to get…”
“I’m not leaving without you.” My firm voice stops him, and before he can protest further, I haul him to his feet, allowing him to lean on me for support. We navigate our way out of the room, my feet plopping on the floor underneath his weight as my legs threaten to give out on me, refusing to bear him as a burden, but I will them to remain strong; if they falter now, we both will die. I half-drag, half-carry him outside as more of his blood oozes down the sides of my jacket, soaking into the miniscule spaces between the fibers and woven threads, but I ignore its stickiness and warmth as I steer us toward where the transports are located. I pause.
“What’s wrong?” gasps Renal.
Chase. I cannot leave him, but I cannot search for him with Renal in his current state. He stares at me with his one good eye, a speck of white sticking out of his dark, bruised, and swollen face, and I want to tell him,—I should tell him—but how can I? Torn between two people I do not wish to see dead, we inch our way to the transport area, while my mind wrestles with the choices before me, each one as terrible as the first, and I know that my conscience will not allow any of them to take place. Darkness shrouds us, protecting us the only way it can, by concealing our movements as we edge our way to the transports, sneaking past sentries, and away from the compound. We’re almost there.
A door creaks open and boots stomp on wooden steps as they carry their owner outside for a smoke—a forbidden act—and Renal and I stop, staying as still as we can, hoping that we will go unnoticed. Renal leans even more into me, dragging my shoulder downward from his weight, but I hold onto him, refusing to let him fall to the ground. My hear pounds in my chest as I remain still, waiting, pleading in silent agony for the man to go back inside. With a final flick of his wrist, the soft glowing embers fling through the night, disappearing into nothingness as he turns and vanishes behind the door into his quarters. Trapped air escape my lungs and I shake Renal, urging him to continue as I haul him across the compound, staying next to the shadowy wall bordering what has become our prison. He groans and I shush him, not wanting his vocal overtones to draw attention. Though the way seems clear, that does not mean that someone isn’t nearby, that some arbiter or worker won’t stumble upon us. We turn a corner. I can see them. The transports are close. Just a few more yards. I shift Renal a little, relieving the pressure on my shoulder and strengthening my grasp of him as his feet stumble over themselves, unsure of how to walk.
A figure steps out in front of us. My breath catches in my throat when I recognize the tall, muscular build, and the broad shoulders that straighten themselves with pride. Trevors steps into the dim light of a lamp spilling through a grime encrusted window as his unforgiving gaze drills into my surprised eyes while I cling to Renal in a desperate attempt to prevent him from crashing into the ore infested soil. Our eyes remain locked as we each ponder who will make the next move, but Renal’s dwindling state, jerks us both into action as his head lulls to the side in his semiconscious state and jumbled words escape his lips, forming unintelligible nonsense. As I lose my hold on Renal, Trevors swoops in and grabs him, lifting him up as though he weighs no more than a bag of flour, reminding me of the time at the training facility when all recruits had to carry a 25 pound bag of flour for four miles; if we dropped it, or if it opened, we were punished, but Trevors never faltered and reached the finish line first with his bag intact. He takes Renal from me and motions for me to follow him as he moves through the compound, slinking between buildings, carrying Renal with ease, and I trudge after him, unsure of his motives or why he is helping me.
We reach the transport area, and after making certain that no one is around, we dart across the space between the compound and the transports and crouch beside one. I test a door. Locked. Trevors points at another and hurries toward it; his giant feet create such soft steps that, for a moment, I find it difficult to believe that it is him, but shake myself out of my reverie and back to the present. I race after him, keeping my steps light and hunker next to him when he reaches his d
estination. He motions for me to try the door and I do without question. It opens. Thrilled, I pull it the rest of the way, taking care to not allow the door to creak as even the slightest noise sounds like utter chaos on such a still night. Renal moans as we place him in the back seat, laying him down with care. After Trevors shuts the transport, I head for the driver’s seat, unsure of where we will go, when I stop with my hand on the cool handle of the door and look back at the compound shrouded in a darkening mist, broken only by the harsh lights of the buildings that house the arbiters as figures pace back and forth, bored with their assigned duties. I yearn to go back there, yet my head orders me to leave, and as they battle one another for dominance, Trevors eyes me, wondering why I have not moved. I cannot leave Chase again. How will I tell Gwen that I abandoned her brother? How will I look Shelia in the eyes, knowing that I have a chance, here and now, to get us all out of here, and I left him? How will I look at myself?
A firm hand frees mine from the driver’s door and I whip my head around, stopping when I see Trevors’ face. On any other day, my first impulse would be to punch him, but something within his eyes stops me. He does not gloat. There is no brazenness, no cockiness, just understanding.
Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 20