Tricia steps up and grasps the ladder. I can feel her shaking with the effort, but she doggedly pulls herself upward. When she’s climbed several rungs, another girl takes her place. It’s a slow procession, but one at a time they begin to move upward. After two or three minutes, Tricia has crawled through the trapdoor and begins lowering herself down.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Keep moving.”
The line begins to flow with more confidence as girl after girl disappears through the ceiling. About half of them have made it through when the door opens and a young man I don’t recognize bursts into the silo. I jerk upward, toppling a girl off my back, and draw my gun. It takes exactly the same amount of time for the man to register what’s happening. He turns to shout into the hallway, “The girls are getting—”
I drop him with a shot to the shoulder.
“Who is he?” I ask, running to drag him inside and lock the door.
One of the girls comes over and spits on the writhing man. “Someone I used to count as a friend.”
Footsteps thunder in the hallway and the doorknob rattles. I brace myself and aim my gun at the door. Loud pounding. Angry shouts. Someone in the facility must have a key, but not whoever stands outside.
“Take my place on the ground,” I call to one of the shell-shocked girls as someone lands a powerful kick to the door. “Hurry! Get out of here!”
The progression up the ladder begins again, faster now as I stand between them and the growing assault on the door. Violent blows continue to land, but the metal holds. At last, only the girl on her hands and knees remains. I take her place and send her up. Then it’s just me and Markay. She’s still comatose on the ground. There’s no way I can reach the ladder with her on my back.
I give her a good shake. Nothing. I shout her name and slap her face, but she only utters another low moan.
A loud thunk sounds against the door. Whoever is outside is now using something heavy as a battering ram. I have no idea how long the door will hold.
I spin in the center of the room, looking for something to boost me up to the ladder. A box. A barrel. Anything. But someone has scoured the prison room clean. As loath as I am to do it, I’m going to have to leave Markay and go for help.
“Jack!”
My name drops from the ceiling. I look up to find Ethan descending rapidly.
“Are the girls okay?” I ask.
“The Lowers have taken them into the woods.”
“And the others? The ones in the factory?”
He drops to the ground without answering and whips off his shirt. Tearing it top to bottom, he winds it into a cord. “Tie her to me.”
When he hoists Markay onto his shoulders, I fasten them together as securely as I can. Then I fall to my hands and knees one more time and give him a boost up. He climbs steadily, pausing now and again to rebalance Markay. I wait for him to reach the top so he doesn’t take me down if he falls. Then I back up and leap for the ladder again.
I’ve just pulled myself up when the lock finally splinters and the door crashes in. Two men rush into the room. I catch the gleam of metal in one of their hands. The man I downed points up at me. I fire before they spot me and drop them both before they can get a shot off. Then I sprint up the ladder like the devil’s on my tail. A bullet pierces the roof just as I fling myself out the trapdoor.
Outside, I cling to the top rung and catch my breath. I can see shadows running through the overgrown yard below, but I can’t tell friend from foe. There’s no sign of the girls. Ethan has already climbed halfway down. I descend rapidly and catch up to him only ten feet above the ground. Suddenly, an explosion tears through the night. My hands rip free of the rungs and I’m flung sideways into darkness.
FIFTEEN
I slam against the ground, not three feet from where Ethan and Markay have landed, in the shelter of the cement silos that have both withstood the blast. As we catch our breath, a second boom follows the first. Ethan scrambles to his feet and drags me and Markay toward the base of the wall. We cover our heads and press into the ground as the entire facility goes up in a massive detonation.
The ground shakes as if a meteor has struck, and then debris begins to rain down around us. Ethan hoists Markay to his shoulders again and sprints for the woods. I stumble after him as fast as my body will take me. Behind us, flames shoot hundreds of feet into the sky.
It is brighter than day within the woods and hot as the sun. A few people are still picking themselves up off the ground. I recognize Jewel lurching to her feet. Blood leaks from her nose, and half her shirt is torn away. “The girls!” I scream. “Where are they?”
I don’t know if she can hear any better than I can, but she points deeper into the wood. We crash through the scrubby growth to escape the intense heat, and I’m conscious of other figures fleeing the inferno.
Jewel leads us to the shelter of a nearby office building where we find the girls. All of them, as far as I can tell. They’re so ragged and unwashed that it’s impossible to identify caste. Some appear bone thin, probably the ones who have been missing the longest. Some look fairly well. They all seem dazed by everything they’ve endured.
About ten of the Lowers have also turned up. Berg bleeds from a gash across his forehead. In his arms, he cradles one of the young women, who clings to him, sobbing.
“Is she okay?” I pant. My words sound muffled, as if I stuffed cotton in my ears.
Jewel nods. “She’s his wife. My sister-in-law.”
I glance at her. In the light of the fire that reaches us even here, I can see she’s slightly older than the others, perhaps early twenties, and very pretty, her jet black hair tangled into knots. It’s Tricia.
“Is this everyone who escaped?” I ask. There are so few. All the girls, but only fourteen of Berg’s Lowers and a single kidnapper being guarded at knifepoint.
“There may be others who made it to the warehouse on the east side of the factory,” Jewel says. “It’s the only other shelter nearby.”
“What happened in there?” I demand of Ethan, who has laid Markay on the floor.
He rests with hands on hips, bare-chested, his lungs still heaving. “I ran into a nest of them upstairs. A dozen or so. I knocked out four guards before I was discovered. When they started shooting and Berg’s people came in, things got pretty exciting.”
“Any casualties?”
He shrugs. “We couldn’t see anything.”
“Was anyone still inside when it blew?”
“We don’t know.” I can tell from the look on his and Berg’s faces, however, that it’s doubtful everyone made it out.
“Did you see Emerson?”
Ethan nods. “I saw him head for the woods.”
I do the math in my head. A dozen kidnappers upstairs in the plant. Ethan took out four. I shot three in the silo. One has been captured. Emerson escaped. That leaves three unaccounted for.
Ethan’s breathing has grown lighter. “We need to call in an aeropod and get out of here, Jack. That explosion will attract attention quickly.” I understand his implications perfectly. We must protect the secrecy of Axis. “Let’s round up as many perpetrators as we can. I don’t want all our answers falling to the Military.”
“I thought you were Military,” Berg says, looking suspiciously between us.
Ethan and I exchange a glance. “I lied,” he says. “And it’s vital no one knows of our involvement.”
Berg breaks into a huge grin. “You two just rose exponentially in my book.”
I look around at the girls and then to Jewel. I don’t want to leave before I’m certain Markay will be all right, but I know I’ve run out of time. “They’ll be safe with you? All of them?” I ask pointedly.
Jewel nods.
“You give me your word?”
“You have it.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll help you find your way out of here,” Berg offers. “I want to regroup my people. Learn who’s missing.” With a kiss and a murmur of reassur
ance, he hands Tricia over to Jewel’s care.
The single prisoner is given to Ethan. He’s young, perhaps seventeen, but tall and broad. Ethan has already lost his shirt, so he uses the athletic tape still wound around my wrist to secure the boy’s hands behind his back. Then Berg leads us at a trot around the inferno.
Halfway to the warehouse, we meet eight Lowers who guard another prisoner. Not Emerson.
“You can’t get through that way,” one of the Lowers tells us. “The wind is pushing the fire through the trees. The warehouse is burning.”
“Is this everyone?” Berg asks.
“Everyone we’ve met up with.”
Berg claps him on the shoulder. Thirteen plus nine. Three Lowers still missing.
Berg sends them on to rendezvous with Jewel, retaining two men to help guard our prisoners and guide us out through the Warrens. “There’s an abandoned airfield a little over a mile from here,” he tells us. “You’ll be able to call in your ride without attracting attention.”
“Thank you for all your help. And thank your people for us.” Ethan reaches out a hand.
Berg ignores it. Instead, he crosses his middle finger over his index and thumps the splayed palm over his heart. It’s a sign of respect I’ve seen exchanged among the Lowers at school. “I’m indebted to you both,” he says. “You ever need anything, you let me know.”
Ethan nods. “I’d appreciate it if you’d do your best to see that no one knows we were here.”
“Done.”
Berg turns and fades from sight. As the two Lowers lead us away from the roar of the fire, we can hear the first sirens in the distance. Two aeropods arrive soon after, hovering above the Chemistrad grounds with searchlights playing over the scrub around it. We break into a jog. I guard one prisoner at gunpoint while Ethan calls in our ride. The Lowers prod along the other. We snake our way to the airfield, arriving about ten minutes later.
Our aeropod hasn’t landed yet. It took thirty minutes for Ethan and me to fly from headquarters to the new airport downtown, so we settle in for a similar wait, hunkered inside an old hangar. Two of the walls have collapsed, but the roof still hides us from any chance flybys. We can see the Chemistrad conflagration in the distance. If anything, it has grown brighter.
Ethan and the two Lowers crouch in the doorway and discuss the blaze. I am casually standing guard over our prisoners who lie bound together on the floor when the attack comes. I never hear a thing. A hand cuts off my air and an iron grip clamps around my arms, pinning them to my torso.
“Make a noise and I break your neck.” It’s Emerson’s voice in my ear.
I nod vigorously.
He makes no attempt to free his buddies, who watch in silence at my feet. I am his sole objective. And by their intent silence, the others show they would rather sacrifice their own freedom than jeopardize my capture. Emerson lifts me off the ground with little effort and carries me toward the open rear of the hangar.
I don’t dare make a sound, but I use the jostling to disguise the movement of my hand as I extend it to reach the gun tucked in my uniform. I tug it free, raise it parallel to my chest, and line up the muzzle with the bicep wrapped around my arms. I pull the trigger.
The explosion echoes beneath the hangar’s tin roof. Emerson drops me immediately, cursing as he fumbles in the dark. I try to line up another shot but am knocked aside in the blind chaos. Ethan screams my name, and a holobeam sweeps the interior. I scramble to my feet just in time to see Emerson’s silhouette dodge into the night.
Ethan’s beam has found me. “Jack, are you all right?” He grabs my shoulders.
I nod. “It was Emerson.”
The Lower who followed Ethan sprints out of the hangar in pursuit, but Emerson has already vanished into the night.
“You’re shaking,” Ethan says.
A delayed response to the evening’s excitement, perhaps, but I don’t think so. Emerson’s attack felt personal. He wanted me in place of Markay. In place of the other girls. His comrades did too. It gives me the willies.
“I’m fine,” I tell Ethan.
He scoops me up anyway and begins carrying me back toward the front of the hangar. “I’m not taking any chances.”
I can feel the hard band of muscle beneath my back, and my face is pressing against Ethan’s bare shoulder. I plant a hand on his chest and push away. “Put me down. Please. I—”
I break off. What can I say? That I can’t breathe? That I panicked at the touch of his flesh? That I’ve been jolted by a sudden and unwanted attraction for my partner?
I clear my throat. My voice comes firmer now. “Put me down, Ethan.”
He sets me gently back on my feet, one hand still grasping my arm.
“Thank you.” I feel an explanation is in order. I give a truthful one; it’s just not complete. “I don’t want to get anywhere near those two thugs. They watched Emerson take me. They were…I don’t know…approving.” I finish with a shiver.
His eyes slant with concern. “You can stay back here till we shut them away in the aeropod. But keep that gun handy. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Positive.”
Within twenty minutes, the aeropod glides in low and sets down in front of the hangar. The prisoners are loaded, and I climb aboard. The Lower who chased Emerson returns in time to see us off. “Sorry, he’s gone.”
Ethan claps him on the shoulder before hoisting himself up beside me. “It’s okay.” He grins. “Jack shot him with tracker shot. The bullet is chased by granules containing tiny microchips. If we can get someone within a mile of him, we’ll be able to track the frequency the chips give off and find out exactly what he’s up to.”
I lift a hand in farewell as the hatch door closes. Through the window, I can see the two Lowers each cross their fingers, slap their palms against their chests, and direct their salute toward the rising aeropod. As they vanish into the darkness of the airstrip, I can’t help but think we’ve gained some important allies.
I settle back in my seat to enjoy the quiet ride back to Axis headquarters, thoroughly exhausted by the evening, but Ethan pulls up his holoscreen and begins to work. “I’ve scanned the retinas of both our friends tied up back there. It’s time to find out who they are.”
I close my eyes to block out the flashing screens but open them again several minutes later when Ethan lets out a puzzled, “Huh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Neither one of these guys is in the system.”
“That’s impossible.” Babies are scanned at birth and entered into the population data bank immediately. “How could they not be?”
The glow from Ethan’s holoscreen illuminates a thoughtful look on his face. “I think, from what we’ve seen tonight, that it could be entirely possible. In fact, I’d wager that in places like the Warrens, very few newborns are registered.”
“But the data bank is updated every time a child receives medical treatment, or goes to school, or enters the court system or the CDS.”
“But what if a child never goes to school, never receives medical attention, stays completely off the grid? We could have thousands of Lowers living in the old cities that the government has no record of.”
“And nobody’s paying them any attention,” I add. I see the same unease in Ethan’s eyes that swells in my chest.
“So what does that mean for this case?” Ethan asks, bringing the implications home to our immediate problem. “So many pieces still don’t snap together, and now the Military will know something big went down without them.”
“Are you worried about what we’re going to tell Willoughby about the fire?”
“He already knows.” Ethan’s eyes squint together. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Willoughby knows more than we’ve given him credit for. That he holds a whole deck of cards he hasn’t been showing to the rest of us.”
“But why wouldn’t he share all his information before sending us into the field?”
“Exactly. And why would he ma
sk his intentions when he recruited you to Axis? Why would he give you Initiate training even though you didn’t pass Military?” Ethan studies me thoughtfully. “Why did he want you on this case so badly?”
I cringe inwardly. “You still don’t think I belong at Axis.”
“That’s not what I meant. This week—tonight—you’ve proven yourself more than capable. And you were especially suited for this assignment. It’s almost like Willoughby predicted this outcome from the beginning. As if he planned for it. As if he knew beforehand that you were the one he would need to accomplish it.”
His eyes screw down tighter. “I think you and I have earned an explanation.”
***
After we land, we hand our prisoners over to lockup and fetch Ethan a new shirt from the supply room. Then Ethan leads the way to Willoughby’s office. It’s ten o’clock at night, but Willoughby’s still there, still dressed in a black pinstripe suit, expecting us. He beams as we enter. “Congratulations, you two. Job well done.”
I sink wearily to the sofa, but Ethan marches right up to his desk. “Sir, Jack and I have some questions that demand answers.”
“As do I, Captain Alston. Please join Miss Holloway on the sofa and we will enlighten each other.”
“Sir, with all respect, we feel you have withheld vital information from us on this case. We believe you knew exactly what we would learn on this assignment before we left. Furthermore, we would like to know why you recruited Jack and what you hope to accomplish through her employment with Axis.”
Willoughby glances from Ethan to me and back again, looking pleased with himself. “This is quite a different response from the last time we all met together. I believe the two of you have meshed quite well as a team. And all I had to do was point you at a common enemy instead of watching you fire at each other.”
I glance up at Ethan, who looks extremely uncomfortable, and then focus on my trainers. I’m still in my cross country uniform.
Ethan clears his throat. “Sir, you have not answered any of my concerns.”
“All in good time. Now sit down, Captain Alston. That’s an order.”
Recompense (Recompense, book 1) Page 18