Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2)

by Janet McNulty

  “Not guilty, sir,” I reply.

  Silence follows for a moment. They must not have expected this answer. Perhaps all the others that have been brought here before me have plead guilty, knowing that you are always guilty in Arel, with no chance of proving your innocence, regardless of the truth. It is unclear as to why they insist on getting me to admit that I did something wrong, unless this is another test, another power play, performed to prove to me, and the rest of Arel, who is truly in charge.

  Heavy boots move on my right as someone pulls out their baton. I listen and wait for him to get closer. At the training facility, each arbiter had to undergo a test of being blindfolded, and be able to defend themselves against an attack. Some excelled at it; others did not. I managed to get by, but right here, right now, will be a test of my skills. I prepare myself for what is coming. I listen to the thundering sounds of heavy-soled boots against a metallic floor, worn down from use, muffling the sounds just a little. The snap of a baton being whipped out, hits my ears, and I listen for the unmistakable sound of it slicing the air. I hear it. Just before the baton can strike me, I bring my arms up, forming a cross, blocking the attack, and snatch the baton from the arbiter before swiping it across the floor, catching him in the shins and knocking him off his feet. That lesson in the training facility has paid off.

  Before I can make another move, two arbiters throw me to the floor restraining me, and wrench the baton from my grasp.

  “Enough!” yells the one sitting in judgement; his voice thunders off the rafters, but instead of dissipating with each echo, it grows stronger, imbuing me with fear, making me second guess my actions.

  “Arbiter Noni,” he begins again, “do you plead guilty—”

  His voice cuts off. I strain my ears to listen to him, but his booming voice drops to the smallest whisper as he speaks with someone else, someone whose presence I am not supposed to be aware of. I try leaning forward, hoping to glean a few words, but a gruff hand jerks me back into a kneeling position, refusing to allow me the courtesy of receiving some sort of forewarning about my fate. The arbiter in judgement clears his throat before speaking again, but before he does, the distinct sound of a monitor being turned off hits my ears as he ends his transmission.

  “Take her away.”

  What? Away? Away where?

  Hands seize my shoulders, pulling me backwards as they obey their orders, and drag me from the room. Bits of light spill through the few loose threads of the bag over my head, but everyone moves so fast, that I am unable to gather my bearings or even understand what is about to be done with me. I am dumped on the floor, but before I can turn over on my side and stand up, cold steel snaps around my right wrist, locking into place, as the rattling of a chain clinks against the floor before someone shoves their foot into my stomach, forcing me to roll over the edge of a drop off and plunge downward. My stomach surges into my throat as I fall, expelling its contents the moment I crash into a barrier that gives way beneath me, but still slices through my jacket and into my skin, drawing bits of blood. I rip the bag off my head, tossing it aside and hoping to never see it again, and look at my wrist and the archaic shackle that has been placed on it, but that isn’t what bothers me. On the other end of the chain is Amal.

  “If you wish to survive this day,” says the arbiter that has ordered us down here, dropping a key that lands on a protruding edge of the chute itself, something both Amal and I notice, “you will climb to the top of this chute before it’s sealed.”

  The low vibration of gears, metal on metal, moving a gigantic door, in this case a barrier sealing the chute off from the outside world, rumbles around me.

  “Failure means incineration.”

  We’re in a garbage chute!

  “Consider this a test of your will to serve Arel.”

  The arbiters above us disappear, leaving me alone with Amal and a possible future of being cremated, with him as my only companion.

  My foot moves and something crunches underneath it, piercing the rumbling around me, as though it has managed to silence all extraneous noise so that its distinct note is the only thing I hear. An ominous feeling overtakes me as I look down at what I am standing on, knowing that I will not like it: bones—human bones, mixed with bits of burnt clothing that have somehow escaped the fury of the fire create the surface I stand on, and every little movement breaks their brittle structure, reminding me of what I will become (what we all become) should I fail to escape this place. Bits of sweat drop from the tips of my hair as it escapes its bun and rolls down my back, leaving a streak on my uniform jacket, as more beads of sweat dot my skin in this stifling chute, threatening to suffocate me. Something isn’t right. This is no ordinary garbage chute. This had to have been created for the sole purpose of watching people struggle to survive only to meet a terrible end. A clanking noise surrounds Amal and me as rungs appear on the sides of the chute, beckoning us to climb up them, but the feeling that they are a trap gnaws at me.

  Our eyes meet.

  As one, we both move to opposite sides of the chute, desperate to cling to a rung, but we both are pulled backward and crash into the human remains—I wince a little as a rib stabs me in the side—while the chain attaching us pulls taut, forcing us to an abrupt halt. Once again, we look at each other, knowing that we will have to put our differences aside and work together if we want to survive, but betrayal always lies just beneath the surface, and almost always rears its ugly head; a fact I am reminded of as we both eye the key poking out over the edge of its little ledge, calling to us. He points at a set of rungs that are side by side and beneath the key, and I follow after him, slipping on the mangled mass of skeletal remains as I try to hurry, while foreboding sounds weave their way around us, mocking us and our feeble attempt to escape their lair. We grip the rungs of a metallic ladder that seems to have formed from the chute itself, though the rungs seem to be somewhat rubberized, and for a moment, I marvel at the technology involved to create such a thing, before reminding myself of where I am.

  The chain around our wrists dangles as we climb higher, clanking against the chute with each movement, mimicking a ticking sound that fills the air, almost like a timer, urging us to hurry up. The hair on my arms and neck stand up as though charged with electricity as a low buzzing that grows with intensity with each passing second builds, wafting over us, warning us of impending doom. Before I have time to register what it means, the rungs that I am climbing disappear, melting into the side of the chute, and I plunge downward, taking Amal with me, and we both crash into the skeletal remains below us just as a bolt of electricity stretches from the top of the chute and strikes the side to our left, releasing a tremendous popping sound and forcing us both to turn away as its intense heat singes our skin.

  That’s new.

  For a moment, I watch as rungs appear and disappear on the sides of the chute, noting that there seems to be a pattern. Where one set disappears, another appears next to it. Another set of rungs appear next to us, and I drag Amal with me as I bolt to my feet and sprint for them. We jump on them, climbing upward as fast as we can, as the ticking sound starts again, counting down the seconds until the rungs disappear. My hands slip from the metal rungs as sweat coats them, and I try wiping them on the sides of my pants to dry them, but to no avail. I push my way upward, doing my best to not become entangled in the shackles connecting me to Amal as we inch our way upwards. The static builds around me again as the individual hairs on my body lift upward just as the ticking stops. I jump to my left, and Amal follows suit, just as the rungs disappear and a bolt of electricity strikes the side of the chute above me, leaving a fresh burn mark that looks more like a splatter than a charred piece of metal plating, while hoping that my guess on where to go is correct. New rungs appear just as gravity starts to take its hold, and I reach out to them, grasping them and holding tight, refusing to allow my sweaty palms to let go. Pain grips my chest as I smack into the rungs, but neither I, nor Amal, have time to catch our breath as th
e ticking sound begins again, reminding us that time is our enemy.

  We both climb upward once again, while keeping a close eye on where the key is, and the covering that moves over the top of the chute, threatening to seal us inside forever. We take the rungs two at a time, ignoring the swinging chain between us as it smacks against the side of the chute, while the timer counts down. The ticking stops. Knowing what comes next, we look at each other, wondering which direction to go in, when Amal points to the right. I don’t argue. Just as the rungs we are climbing vanish, we throw ourselves to the right and seize the new ones that materialize within the metal sides of the chute while another electrical shock strikes the side of the chute, forcing us to duck in an effort to protect ourselves.

  As I grip the rungs that have just formed, the skin on my hands stings as though thousands of pins have stabbed it, while the flesh burns, making it difficult to cling to the metal rungs as I climb. I glance at Amal and he is having the same difficulty. The bolts of electricity. With each strike, the handholds heat up and will soon be too hot to climb. The creeping covering above us taunts us while the key laughs at us, and anger rises within me, fueling my resolve, urging me onward. I pull at my jacket, tearing off pieces of fabric and wrap them around my hands to provide a barrier between my skin and the hot rungs of the ladder. We continue our trek upward, pausing as the familiar ticking sound ceases, while the electrified air around us builds.

  New rungs appear and both Amal and I jump for them just as another bolt of electricity slams into the sides of the chute, but my hand slips and I tumble downward, slamming into the side of the ladder as Amal catches my hand, stopping me from plunging to my death. Before he has time to change his mind, even though I know that a sense of self-preservation stopped him from letting me fall, knowing that my weight would take him with me, I seize the rungs before me and wrap my arms around them. I look up to say something, but stop when I notice the key is not that far above us, and neither is the top of the chute. Amal sees it too. Knowing what the other has planned, we both climb as fast as we can, but my fall has given Amal an advantage. He reaches the tiny ledge with the ornate key and reaches for it, but just as he grabs it with his shackled hand, I tug on the chain, forcing him to drop the key and snatch it out of the air just as it falls past me. Before Amal has a chance to retaliate, I ram the key into the keyhole on the shackle around my wrist and twist, freeing myself from him.

  The ticking stops.

  Once again, the thin hairs on my skin stand on end as the static in the air builds around us, warning us of another strike. The rungs vanish just as I jump to my right, while Amal flings himself to his left, and we both grab the new set of rungs that have appeared, our feet swinging to the side from the momentum of our movements while another bolt of electricity strikes the area where we had just been. That is too close. Without bothering to glance at him, I hurry up the makeshift ladder that has appeared, wishing that the material around my hands was thicker, as the smoldering heat within the chute itself burns into my skin, but I ignore the pain as I focus on the door closing above me, and the ever shrinking space in the top of the chute. I reach the top as the ticking resonates around me, urging me to move faster. Flinging myself over the edge of the chute’s opening, I drag myself away from its peril and to safety, or what passes for safety in this dreadful place, and turn back around to watch as Amal flies over the rungs of the ladder, desperate to break free of this nightmare. He is only three feet below me.

  The ticking stops for the last time.

  Our eyes meet. For a moment, I consider allowing him to fall to his death, to be rid of this annoyance, this pain in my side, that has burdened me since the day I arrived in the eastern sector, but as I do, the memory of me clinging to the side of a rock wall with Chase, and of a hand that appeared from nowhere to help us, slaps me in the face, reminding me that not every option involves allowing someone to die. Shamed by it, I hurl myself over the edge of the chute and seize the other end of the chain around Amal’s wrist, stopping him from falling, and haul him upward, pulling him out of the chute just as the cover seals shut and more electricity grips the chute’s interior. For a moment, we sit side by side, breathing hard, but before either of us can react to our new circumstances, arbiters appear from behind and ram bags over our heads.

  Once again, hands grip my shoulders, digging into them as they haul me to my feet and shove me through a corridor, forcing me to trip over the exposed edges of the uneven floor. My feet twist and turn, entangling themselves as I am shoved in several different directions, unable to catch my bearings or my breath, while boots stomp around me, chastising me for daring to uphold the law, for daring to protect an innocent person from the actions of a bully. My back slams into a wall, and a sharp edge stabs it, causing me to wince a bit, though I am grateful that the bag over my head prevents my captors from seeing that they succeeded in causing me pain. Steam hisses as it is released from a pipe, making me wonder just where I am being taken, but the hands pushing me refuse to allow me to know, as they shove me around, not caring if I bump into obstacles or trip from the disorientation forced upon me. Just as the fear that I am being led to my execution settles in, fresh, cool air engulfs my hands as doors open and the wind brushes past me in an effort to calm me., but before I can relish in its comfort, the hands gripping me throw me into a transport, not caring that my head bangs into the top of the vehicle as I am shoved inside.

  The door seals shut. I feel the presence of someone sitting next to me, but cannot be sure. The only way to find out is to take the bag off my head, but I know that if I do, I risk being punished. The transport jerks into action as it speeds down a roadway, making sharp turns, and not caring if its passengers are thrown around. I try to position my head so that I can see through a worn spot in the material of the bag covering me, but every time I try, the transport jerks to the side, causing me to slam into its the side. It picks up speed, jerking me backward, before coming to a sudden stop, flinging me forward into the seat in front of me. The door opens and more hands seize me by the arms, hauling me out of the transport, delighting in the fact that my feet are caught, causing me to fall to the ground. My hands burn from the impact, but before I can lift myself up, the same hands grab me and jerk me to my feet, causing me to become dizzy for a moment as they shove me forward, growing frustrated as I stumble and almost trip again. Each time I start to fall, they jerk me upward. The sweltering air encasing my head makes it difficult to breathe as more spittle and water vapor coats my face, causing me to gag. Just as my mind races from one dismal possibility to the next, the hands gripping me thrust me to the ground and my knees slam into hard metal with small, raised bumps covering it, causing instant pain to surge through them as the metal bumps dig into them. Someone rips the bag off my head, and I turn just in time to see them do the same to Amal as he kneels on the ground beside me. Blinking in an effort to focus as I grapple with my changing situation, a stark figure towers over both of us, silhouetted by the railcar’s lights behind him.

  A railcar? We’re on a platform, but it is empty, void of any activity, except for the arbiters surrounding us.

  The arbiters encircling us lift Amal to his feet and drag him onto the railcar without waiting to be told, forcing him to sit in a seat near a window. My stomach jumps when I see him sitting there, while I am left on the platform, and I wonder if perhaps this is another test, another trick, or something much worse, but before my mind has a chance to mull through the worst case scenarios, a voice speaks from behind me, the same voice as the man who had me thrown into the chute.

  “You are lucky,” he says in a mocking tone as he paces around me, until he stands in front of me, bearing down on me, making me feel smaller than a mouse, and wishing I was back in that chute, “to have the loyalty of friends.”

  What is he talking about?

  “Someone has vouched for you, collaborating your story,” the man continues, “so, you are being released. However, you will still have a demerit pl
aced on your record.”

  He walks away, leaving me to wonder what the hell the chute was all about, and why it is that I have the demerit and Amal gets nothing. I turn my head and start to open my mouth but a harsh voice stops me cold, a voice I recognize and had never possessed such coldness before.

  “Get in!”

  Renal? Why is he here?

  I look at the open door to the railcar and Amal sitting in a window, doing his best to not look at me, though the curiosity on his face is evident, despite his futile attempts to hide it. Ashamed and feeling vulnerable, I stand up, ignoring the wails of my knees at being forced to move while they still burn from the torture thrust upon them, and mosey over to the railcar, afraid to walk too fast or to make any sudden movements. Once aboard, I pick a seat away from Amal and stare out the window as Renal steps onto the car and the door closes with a slight hiss.

  The railcar takes off, thrusting me backward into my seat, but I do not care. I have failed. Failed to stop Amal from abusing his authority. Failed to be the epitome of a good arbiter for Commander Vye’s sake. Failed Faya. Failed Chase, Sheila, and Gwen. And I have failed Renal. I allowed my own sense of justice to get in the way, and here I am, on an empty railcar with Amal and Renal, heading back to the eastern sector in the middle of the night as a warning to others. The moon breaks through the clouds and envelopes me with its pale rays of silver light. Perhaps it is trying to comfort me, or perhaps it is admonishing me for being so ignorant, in allowing my emotions to dictate my actions. I glance at Renal as he stands between Amal and me, facing forward and keeping his eyes fixed on the door in front of him, before turning back to the window to watch as the spires of the executive district as the moon illuminates them and the specks of light that dot their majesty, a true testament to the might of Arel. The shuttle swings upward, shifting my center of gravity a bit, but I go limp, not fighting it, and instead, allow it to push me where it wills, until we are high up and pass over the tops of buildings. Despite my empty feelings, I cannot help but marvel at the purplish hue of the buildings as the moon graces them with its ethereal glow. A few stars poke through the clouds, curious as to the happenings of the world below them, and the railcar pivots downward, and I brace my knees against the seat in front of me to hold myself in place as the smooth glass buildings passing by are replaced with roofs missing tiles, beams hanging in a precarious fashion, broken windows, and decaying brick.