“He’s with me,” I answer, using the same firm tone that Mandi had just used and the man quiets down. For an orderly at the medical center, he seems to be quick to frighten, or perhaps he is having second thoughts about escaping.
Mandi looks at all three of them. “She and her cohort will lead you out of the city. Do as she says.”
“We should leave while it’s still raining,” I say just as another crack of thunder roars overhead.
Chase leads the woman and two men outside, but before I can leave, Mandi snatches my arm and forces me to look at her. “Do not cross me.”
“I always keep my word,” I tell her. “You should know that by now.”
She lets go of my arm, and I hurry outside into the rain once more and hurry after Chase as he leads them away from the abandoned building and to a pile of trash cans, waiting for me. I squat next to him, ignoring the mixed odor of rotted food with the sweet smell of rain, as I scan the streets for any signs of arbiters on patrol, but see nothing. The rain must be keeping them at bay. Even though we are supposed to ignore the elements, some arbiters detest the rain and will hide from it when it pours, like it is now, which, for the moment, is to my advantage.
“Now!” I whisper.
We all jump from behind the garbage cans and race down the street with Chase, and one of the orderlies helps the woman run as the rain’s thick curtain conceals us, rounding the edge of another building before anyone can spot us. Panting, I look at my charges, wondering how I am going to get them there, as the woman’s frightened face stares back at me. Picturing the layout of the eastern sector in my mind, I chart the best route to the tunnel Luther had pointed out to me in what seems so long ago now. We will have to take the streets, but if the rain holds out, we should be able to slip by unnoticed, if we are fast.
“Can you help her?” I ask Chase and the orderly seated next to him.
They both nod, while the other orderly, the one who has grown cold feet, scans our surroundings in agitation.
“Follow me, and stay close,” I tell them.
I bolt from behind the building as the rain stabs my face, sending burning sensations that linger after pricking my cheeks, charging down the sidewalks, before veering across another street and hugging the side of a building as I hurry down another walk. Despite my hurried movements, I keep my eyes peeled for any signs of arbiters on patrol, but the heaviness of the rain grows stronger as it beats down upon us, meaning that any arbiters assigned to night patrol will be hiding under awnings or inside someone’s home uninvited. It doesn’t matter. As long as they are not able to see us, we will continue to go unheeded. Drenched, my clothes tighten their hold on me, weighing me down and threatening to slow my movements, but I push onwards, while always aware of the people behind me. We’re almost there. Another turn, and another, and I spot the area where the cover to the tunnel is.
I urge them to pick up their pace as water pours down my face, forming its own waterfall, but I ignore the discomfort; I have to, for their sake. My boots sink into the water of the flooded streets, forming ripples and pools as they go, refusing to stop or to be slowed down by nature, and before I can crash into empty food crates over the manhole, I drop to the ground and slide on my side to a complete stop. The other hunker around me.
“Help me with this,” I say, and they each lean against the crate, pushing it to the side, revealing the manhole, and without waiting to be told, they each lift a side of the cover, until it uncovers the dark tunnel underneath. I wave them into it, and one by one, we climb down the rusted ladder, with me in the rear, until we drop down into waist deep water, and I force myself to stifle a yelp as the frigid liquid envelops me, penetrating me to my very core.
A bit of panic starts to overtake me as the water surrounds me, holding me as though it means to imprison me with a foreboding air as I do not recall the tunnel being this filled with water before, but was instead bone dry. Abandoned these tunnels may be, but they are still functioning as drains, and with all of the rain that pours out of the sky, these tunnels are about to overflow. Though I am already soaked, this besmirched liquid creeps into places I’d rather it not go, making me feel soiled as it fills my boots and seeps between the bands of my underclothes. I force the uncomfortable feeling out of my mind, focusing on the task at hand because, if my suspicions are correct, we will end up under water if we don’t hurry.
My feet scoot across the uneven ground from all of the dirt that has built up within as I slosh my way past everyone, doing my best to remember the map Luther had shown when I first entered this desolate place, and head down the tunnel, as the others follow after me. Chase flicks on a tiny light, and I have no idea where he got it from but am glad that he thought to bring one, as we wade through the murky water. With each step, the water seems to get higher, but I swallow back the insipid fear that rises within me and stroke my arms through the water, half swimming, half wading as the current takes me, and I make my way further into the darkness, remembering my time here earlier and which turns to take, and which ones to avoid.
The woman slips and falls underneath the water, screaming just a little as she does.
“Help her!” I hiss at the others, and the man that had been assisting her the entire night, throws his arm out to catch her and lifts her head out of the water.
“It’s getting deeper,” she says with a shiver.
That it is, and I don’t like it. “Just keep moving,” I say, doing my best to not slow down.
Water ripples past me as I inch my way further into the tunnel, feeling the sides with my hands, but my fingers slip each time I try to grab hold of it—the moisture has made the slime worse— while I search for the ladder that I used the last time I was here, with the soft glow of Chase’s light bouncing in front of me as he holds it high above his head, swimming with one arm. It’s got to be here. I know it is. The fear that I went the wrong way, that I go lost and doomed us all to a fate of drowning settles into my mind, overtaking it, as I push myself through the water, searching in a semi frantic state, while trying to not frighten the people with me. Maybe it’s a little further. The water now covers the tips of my breasts and my lungs strain for air as the knowledge that soon, there will be no gap between the surface of the water and the ceiling if this continues fills me. My face smacks into the edge of the tunnel, and as I spin around in the water, I realize that I am in a bit of a domed area, but where is the ladder? It should—wait! What is that?
“Shine your light that way,” I tell Chase, and he does, allowing me to see small ripples as the water brushes against the sides of a grime encrusted ladder.
I kick my feet in the water, propelling myself to the ladder and cling to it as though it is a life preserver, and in this case, it is. I start to climb up it, but Chase pushes me out of the way and snakes up the ladder with ease, pressing his shoulders against the cover and pushing against it until it opens. It pops free with ease, compared to the last time I was here, and a wall of rain plunges into the dark abyss I am in as he holds his hand out to me, but I wave the woman forward. Relieved, she takes his hand and he hauls her out of the water, helping her through the hole and into the world above. I wave one of the orderlies forward and he hurries up the ladder, but was almost knocked back into the water by the over eagerness of his colleague who scrambles up the other side and out of the hole.
As they disappear, I clamber out of the water and to the top. My eyes try to scan the landscape, but the fierceness of the pouring rain makes visibility impossible, but from what I can tell, this is the same place I had come out of the last time I was here.
“The trees are that way,” I yell so as to be heard over the roar of the rain. “Just go straight and you’ll be fine. From there, you are on your own.”
“You’re not coming with us?” says the orderly that was too eager to get out of the tunnels.
“No,” I reply.
The man looks at me with a mixture of panic and incredulity. “But, how are we…”
/> “You should have thought of that before wanting to be smuggled out,” I interrupt him. “Either take your chances out there, or take your chances within Arel.” I point at the water below me within the tunnel.
The man glances at it for a moment and runs off toward the tree line.
“Good luck,” I say to the other man and the woman.
They both smile at me, a thankful, but uncertain smile, before hurrying away to the tree line, disappearing beyond the curtain of rain the pounds the earth around me, forming pools large enough to bathe in. Knowing what awaits me underneath, I take a deep breath and let go of the sides of the manhole, plunging into the water below. My head pops through the surface just as Chase replaces the cover and jumps in beside me, while the tips of my toes bounce along the tunnel floor as the water forces me to bob up and down, warning me that my worst fear has been realized. The water is rising fast.
Together, Chase and I push against the water as we swim back to where we had come in, our progress impeded by the current that now works against us. Each breath is a struggle as water seeps into my mouth, forcing me into a convulsive cough as it tries to go down my airway and coating my tongue with its gritty and metallic texture, putting the taste of spoiled stew and urine in my mouth. A ring of orange floats past me, sinking to the bottom, leaving a rippling glow beneath me as I realize that Chase has dropped his light in an effort to make it back to the opening. My hands slam against the walls of the tunnel, searching for anything that can be used as a handhold, and the tips of my fingers burn as all I find is the rough edges of concrete digging into my skin from my worthless efforts. My head hits the celling. Turning my face up, I swallow a lungful of air, knowing that I have little time until this pocket of oxygen is gone for good, and my fear of drowning latches onto me, crippling me and forcing me to plunge beneath the water and into its inky darkness of silt and sewage, but before I sink too far down, strong hands seize me, ripping me free of the oppressive water and forcing my head back above the surface.
“Hang onto me,” Chase says as I gasp for air.
I grip his waist, kicking with my feet in a futile effort to fight the current that grows stronger by the minute. “The current is too strong!” I yell.
“Trust me,” Chase says, and despite the darkness, I know he is looking into my eyes with his gray ones, doing his best to encourage me.
Trusting him, I cling to him as his arms move through the water with a speed I didn’t know he could muster, and together, we kick our way through the water, with him a my guide, pulling me after him, and my fear dissipates. Each second feels like an hour as the current pushes against us, encouraging us to give up, but both Chase and I refuse; we both need to get back to Gwen—I refuse to let her lose her brother for a second time—and Shelia. My muscles tire and want to quit, but Chase’s continued efforts spur me onward, and I push forward as water ripples past me, almost like a massage, as though beckoning me to let it carry me away into nothingness.
“Hold your breath!” Chase yells, and his voice seems distant even though he is next to me.
We have reached a dip in the ceiling, and there is no other way through, except to swim under water. Once again, my fear of drowning rises, threatening to overtake me, but Chase grips my hand in encouragement, and I suck in some air before plowing beneath the surface. My lungs want to explode as I hold onto the air within them while swimming as hard as I can with the current mocking my efforts, but I refuse to quit. I must not quit. Failure is death. My arms and legs move in unison to Chase’s movements as we push our way through the water and to the opening. Almost there. We have to almost be there. A few bubbles escape my mouth as my lungs burn and start to convulse, demanding to let go of their contents, but I will them not to, despite the pain in my chest as my head pounds, feeling as though a clamp has been placed around it, but I am unable to hold my breath any longer, and my mouth bursts open, expelling all of the air in my lungs and reflex takes over as I inhale and choke on the water. Convulsing takes over my body, but before I slip away, Chase grabs me and shoves me through the hole and into the street above. My head pops out of the manhole as a series of coughs and gasps over take me, but I manage to use the last of my strength to haul myself out of the hole and onto the pavement as the rain pelts my skin, admonishing me for trying to be heroic. For a moment, I just lay there, allowing the rain to beat me as I take in one deep breath after another, until Chase’s hand grips my stomach, forcing me to remember him, and I lean over the side of the hole, grabbing his arm and pull on him until he is free of the tunnel. We both sit in the rain, looking at one another, ignoring the water pouring down the sides of the buildings, forming their own waterfalls, and the tiny rivers that snake their way past us, annoyed that we have blocked their path.
“I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing for being a burden.
“There is no shame in needing someone,” Chase replies.
Before I know it, my lips are on his, thankful that he insisted on coming along and that he was there to help me when I needed it most, and he holds me close, pleased that we are together.
“We need to get back,” he says when we separate.
I nod. We don’t have much time, and we cannot get caught out here when the rain stops. We plop the manhole cover back in place and hurry through the streets, taking one turn after another, using the lesser known alleyways as our path back to the manor so as to avoid and arbiters on duty, until we reach the fence surrounding the manor. Chase removes the loose bar in the fence and waves me through before following after me. I hunker in a bush, spotting my window, deciding on the best path to get there, and almost make a run for it, when I stop. Amal searches the ground for something, the same something I have around my wrist. I point him out to Chase and show him the wristband.
“We have to get this back to him,” I whisper.
Chase takes the band from around my wrist. “When it’s clear, make a run for it.”
“Be careful,” I tell him.
He places a gentle hand on my cheek in reassurance and darts off into another bush with the wristband that Shelia had taken from Amal. I watch as Chase sneaks over to Amal and creeps behind him, dropping the wristband and into the grass in front of Amal’s feet, before hurrying inside the manor, obscured by the rain. Amal picks it up, confused as to how it got there, but pleased that he has found it, and disappears. Leaving me alone in the rain.
Now or never.
Taking my chance, I bolt from the bush I am hiding in and race for the manor, but before I get far, hands seize me and throw me into the soggy grass, knocking the wind out of me. Gasping, I get to my knees, but before I can get up, a boot rams into my stomach, forcing me to take a sharp breath as I cough up bits of stomach acid before laying on my back in misery. Molers leers over me. Turning my head, I spot Chase’s face, peeking around a corner, but I shake my head, hoping that he heeds my message. He saved me in the tunnels, and now it is my turn to protect him. Molers closes in and I jut my foot out, catching him in the shin and forcing him to stumble just a little as I roll out of the way of another kick. Crouching low, I spring at him, grabbing him around the knees and knocking him down, but before I can do anything else, he kicks me away from him and jumps on me, pinning me to the ground as his hands go for my throat and squeeze. Frantic, I flail my arms around, searching for anything I can use as a weapon, but there is nothing as he closes my airway and I struggle, desperate for air.
“I knew you were up to something,” he whispers into my ear before hauling me to my feet with his hand still around my throat.
My feet drag across the marshy grass as Molers drags me inside, kicking the doors open before throwing me to the floor, where I roll across the ground before ramming into a table, knocking it over on top of myself. Coughing, I try to think of a story, of a way out of this, but nothing comes to mind as I lay helpless on the rug on the floor, drenching it with my soggy clothes.
“Everyone up!” yells Molers. “I’ve caught a traitor!”
> Doors to rooms open as feet pound down the stairs to see what all the commotion is about, only to find a triumphant Molers hovering over an arbiter that has only had her commission for little over a year.
“What is the meaning of all this,” demands Commander Vye as she enters the room, and her disheveled uniform indicates that she had shoved it on in a hurry so as not to allow others to see her in her night clothes.
“I’ve caught a traitor,” sneers Molers.
Commander Vye looks at him before glancing in my direction as I continue to writhe in pain and cough up spit. Renal appears beside her, and for a moment, I see a mixture of sympathy and surprise in his eyes before it’s replaced by a scowl. I must be a complete disappointment to him, and in a way, I do not blame him for his disgust.
Feet shuffle across the wood floor, scraping tiny pebbles that stick in the cracks between the floorboards, as arbiters gather around me, (some rubbing sleep form their eyes, some wrapping towels around themselves as fresh water from an interrupted shower drip from their knees and elbows, while others look infuriated at having such a disgusting sight in their midst) waiting to be told what to do next, to receive their new orders, or salivating at the prospect of witnessing another’s punishment. I glare at each of them, daring them to challenge me and my actions, and I spot Amal among them, gloating over my predicament, when a black blur swishes past my field of vision before something slams into my mouth, knocking my head back into the wall, with bits of crumpling wallpaper falling away and dusting my drenched hair, and an intense pain grips my entire face, interrupted only by the feeling of something rattling in my mouth. Dazed, I raise myself up on shaky arms that threaten to buckle beneath me at any second, while trying to get my eyes to focus as unconsciousness reaches out for me, trying to bind me to its will, but I ignore it, willing myself to remain awake as I spit out a mouthful of blood onto the foot of the man that had kicked me, laughing as a single, white tooth lands upon the reflective, black surface of his boot. I crane my head and stare straight into Molers’ eyes.
Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 46