“Trade? Like… slave?” She twisted at her hands, but the rope didn’t let go.
“Dunno. Depends on who offers how much stuff for ya. Maybe someone who wants a kid, they be nice to ya. Maybe it be someone who needs a worker. Maybe they not be so nice.” He stuck the end of the bottle in her face.
She opened her mouth and he poured the rest of the water down her throat. No one spoke for another two hours or so. Most of the time, she kept her head bowed in shame, somewhat covering herself with her thick hair. Whenever she looked around, desert stretched as far as she could see all around. When the clouds overhead darkened, King pointed, and they rushed off in that direction. Her butt bounced up off the old house door again and again as the wagon hurtled over ridges and dunes in the silt. She threaded her fingers through the mesh of a crate behind her to hold on so she didn’t go flying and land on her head. Firestone slowed when they neared a giant mound of rubble, mostly dirt studded with concrete bits, easily two stories tall. One side had an opening, which they used to enter a C-shaped hollow.
Firestone pulled the wagon a few steps past the middle and stopped. King set his crossbow on the front end before scooping her up and carrying her to the innermost part of the area where he set her seated on the ground with her back against the twenty-foot high mound of rubble.
“Don’t go nowhere.” He pointed at the opening in the wall. “Only one way out. We hear ya. ’Sides, you gonna get trouble on your own.”
She peered up at him. “Are you going to make me sleep tied up?”
“Yep. You a runner.” King walked out of sight. “Don’t want’cha gettin’ hurt.”
She lay there, sweating in the humid oven the world had become, barely able to move. “This is really rude. You’re not being very nice at all. Can you at least give me something to wear?”
The men exchanged glances as if she’d asked them to paint her green.
“Whoever buys you can worry ’bout that,” said King, from over by the wagon. “Don’t make sense ta give you somethin’ we can trade for stuff we need. Sides, you a kid, what’cha need armor for? Don’ be stupid.”
She scowled, deciding not to bother explaining the difference between armor and clothing. Frustrated, she stretched her legs out, grimacing, trying to squeeze one of her feet loose. A few minutes of struggling left her out of breath and drenched in sweat. It’s so hot… Weary, she let her head plop back in the soft dirt, but sleep was impossible.
Plastic crinkles, muttering, and chewing came from her abductors.
Are they going to give me food? Her stomach growled. How long was I in that tank?
The sky blackened over the next few minutes. Soon, she couldn’t even see herself it had gotten so dark. She twisted around, trying to reach the rope around her ankles, but couldn’t quite get her fingers to touch it. A light winked on by the cart, startling her. Kiera shuffled around to lie flat again, hoping they hadn’t noticed her escape attempt. King approached her with a flashlight and squatted nearby before setting the clear plastic pouch with those yellow slabs in it down nearby. She cringed from the sudden, bright glare, shying away from him. Only the expression of total calm on his face kept her from screaming in panic at being so defenseless.
He took one of the yellow objects out of the pouch and held it up. It looked about the size of a dish sponge, wrapped in plastic. After setting the flashlight on the ground by her knee, he opened the package and peeled the wrapper back, releasing a smell like scrambled eggs and chicken soup.
“What is that?” asked Kiera.
“It’s food. Eat it.” King held it out for her to bite.
That looks modern. This isn’t making sense again. She leaned forward and bit off a piece. It had the texture of an omelet, but a much stronger flavor, like over-seasoned chicken soup. Though not awful, she’d never want to eat it if she had any other option. “Where did you get that?”
“From that old guy.” He chuckled. “Just food, nothin’ special.”
“If the world is broken and everyone’s living like tribals, where did you get a protein bar?” She bit off another hunk.
“Trade for ’em at the Citadel. They sell it for numbers.”
“Numbers?” She leaned forward and took another bite, trying to finish it before he changed his mind and walked away.
“Yeah… ’ow many numbers ya have is like bein’ rich. Lot of numbers makes you rich, but only in the Citadel. People out here don’t trade in numbers.”
“Oh, like a bank account?” She chomped the last piece, chewing and swallowing too fast to taste it.
“Ain’t no idea what you’ talkin’ about.” He crumpled up the wrapper and wandered back to the cart.
She twisted at her hands, tugging. “What year is it?”
“What’cha mean?” asked King.
Firestone yawned while unrolling a foam mat, upon which he stretched out to sleep.
“When is it? Like what date?” Kiera twisted and pulled at her arms. “I remember it being 2033.”
“Twenty thirty what?” King scratched his head with the flashlight. “You talkin’ funny.”
“Please don’t kidnap me.” She squirmed. “Will you untie me?”
“Sure,” said King, unrolling a foam mat.
Kiera blinked and sat up tall. “Really? You will?”
“Yep.” King sat on his bed. “Soon as someone trades for you. We ain’t givin’ away our rope. That stuff is hard to find.”
“Grr!” She writhed. “You’re mean!” After struggling for a few seconds, she flopped limp and looked across the camp. “Dell? Will you at least untie my hands? You’re scared I’ll run away, but I can’t if you leave my feet tied.” She poured on the pleading stare.
“Uhh.” Dell scratched his head. “Umm. Okay.”
Wow… Kiera squirmed around so he could reach her hands more easily, but King grabbed his arm when he’d made it halfway across the camp.
“Leave ’er tied.” King shook his head.
“Jes’ her hands. She cain’t run with her hands loose.” Dell tried to take another step, but King tugged him back.
“What’s the problem?” asked Firestone. “Dell’s right. Kid can’t run wif her hands, an’ kinda hard ta sleep like that.”
Kiera kept smiling innocently.
“You more-ans!” King sighed at the sky. “If ’er hands are loose, she can untie her feet.”
Dell blinked, staring at Kiera for a long moment. He looked clueless.
“Go stand watch.” King shoved him back toward the gap in the debris wall.
Grr. Kiera scowled at his back. Dripping sweat itched her nose, but she could only wipe her face with her knee.
Dell marched over to his spot and settled down to rest.
King threw a small rock at him. “You got first watch. We can’t all sleep.”
Grumbling, Dell dragged himself upright again. He trudged to the cart, picked up the crossbow, and plodded back to the gap in the wall.
Kiera lay back, sweltering in the baking heat, too miserable to move. Without the flashlight, the world became total darkness for a while, until her eyes managed to scrape the tiniest bit of moonlight out of the clouds, enough to perceive basic shapes at a distance. She stared down at her body, never having felt so vulnerable and helpless before, and never wanting her parents so much.
It’ll feel like you’re taking a nap, and you’ll wake right back up, said Mom in the depths of her memory.
Her stomach grumbled. She stared at her navel, wondering how long it had been since solid food had been in there. The egg-bar hadn’t been exactly solid. Still, it had more substance than the brown slime from the feeding tube.
“We try an’ sell ’er ’round Norz?” asked Dell, sounding half-awake.
“No.” Firestone stretched and yawned. “Too close to the Citadel. Them silver men kill slavers on sight.”
“We ain’t no New Dominion.” King extended his arm toward her. “We are rescuin’ a little feral what wants ta run off an’ get h
urt. If anyone ask why she tied, we say she’s wild and kept tryin’ to run off ’lone. We didn’t want ’er ta get hurt.”
“I’m not feral,” yelled Kiera. “You’re kidnapping me.”
“Yeah, kid. Time to take a nap,” muttered Firestone.
Kiera squirmed, gasping from the pinchy rope. Lying in the dirt, she stared up at the dark valleys between clouds backlit by the moon. This isn’t really happening. This can’t be real. The humid heat left her covered in sweat that wouldn’t evaporate, and made each breath of the thick, wet air difficult. Her nightmare had gone on for far too long. As much as she begged the universe to let this be a bad dream, she kept finding doubt. In school at the same grade for way too long, repeating coursework, Ashleigh being weird, the glass beads in the vase appearing and disappearing. A needle in the brain, the tank, that old nightmare she’d almost forgotten.
Her one chance at possibly understanding anything lay off in the desert hours away and most likely dead. Her parents, too, had probably been killed. She wondered if her mother or father had even woken up before they’d died. No one who might protect her knew she lay here with only ropes to wear, kidnapped by men who she most definitely did not trust. Everything―and everyone―she’d known was gone.
Trembling with dread, Kiera gazed into the sky, tears streaming down the sides of her face.
6
A Place to Hide
Time slipped in and out. Kiera tracked motion amid the shifting cloud ceiling, following thick spots or dark patches as they glided by. In the stillness of the camp, it occurred to her that there had been a continual breeze before they went inside this rubble wall. Aside from sand wisping off the top of the debris around them, the huge mounds of rubble shielded them from the constant wind howling above. The lack of moving air left her miserably hot, even in the dead of night with nothing on.
They’re going to sell me. Who does that? She fought to keep herself from crying again. I don’t want to be a slave. Horrible ideas came and went at what she might face in the coming days. Scrubbing floors, farm work, laundry, perhaps even sent to dig in a mine or something. Maybe, like the man said, someone who really wanted a child would buy her and take her in. If her parents had been murdered, finding a new family might not be so bad―but what if someone awful bought her? Could she run away, or would they keep her tied up all the time, too?
I gotta get out of here!
She wriggled hard for a few minutes before collapsing out of breath. Sweat dribbled down her sides. Dell glanced back at her from his watch post by the opening in the wall. He eventually looked away and yawned. She stared at him, heart pounding, lungs on fire from her futile effort as well as pure fear. No matter what these men said, she refused to trust anyone who would treat her like this and attack an old man.
After a while of utter silence, Dell nodded off. She kept watching him, nervously tapping her big toes together. He popped awake in under a minute, looked back at her, glanced at his two companions, and faced forward. Soon, he slumped forward again.
Kiera lay quiet and still, watching the man pass out, wake up, and pass out over and over. Each time he slept, he stayed out longer. Whenever his head slumped, she held her breath, sensing opportunity but having no idea what to do with it. The cart might offer help, especially the crate full of knives. No way… I’ll make so much noise. She twisted left, shoving her arms out to the side so she could look at the rope. He’d wound the cord around a few times, before tying it off between her wrists. No way for her fingers to get to the knot. The rope also looked older than dirt, frayed, and ready to fall apart―but not so brittle she had the strength to break free.
I need something sharp.
She debated her odds of hopping to the wagon again, but felt certain the rickety thing would make a whole bunch of noise and wake all three of them up. Tears gathered in preparation for a storm at feeling trapped, but a glint caught her attention to the left. She swallowed her panic and squinted at a rusty spar jutting up from the rubble about six feet away.
Dell remained slouched over against the dirt, out cold. He’d wanted to sleep instead of stand watch, so maybe if she stayed super quiet, he’d remain unconscious. She pressed her hands down, lifting her rear end off the ground, and shimmied to the side. Like a sidewinder snake, she scooted over to where a broken signpost stuck out from a hunk of concrete. Though the flange didn’t look sharpened, it had a thin edge loaded with rust, which might wind up working like saw teeth. Bending forward, she raised her hands up behind her back and pressed the knot between her wrists to the metal.
Her stare locked on Dell, she worked her arms up and down, grinding the ancient rope against the spar. Within seconds, her hope soared at faint snaps and rips. Dell mumbled and shifted. She froze, leaning her head to one side, pretending to be asleep. He adjusted his position and settled down against the dirt without looking back.
Again, she raked the rope up and down, clenching her hands into fists. Fear shifted bit by bit into anger and determination. A stink like burning hair wafted by, but it only made her scrape harder. Sweat dripped from her nose, patting on her thigh. She kept her jaw clenched tight so she didn’t breathe too loud. Twisting and pulling at her arms, she ground the rotting cord into the metal for over a minute more before it gave way.
Perhaps the snap of it breaking made a little too much noise.
Dell sat up.
She kept her hands behind her back, head lolled to the side, and pretended to sleep, watching him past a curtain of hair over her face. He looked around, muttering incoherently. Kiera shivered from nerves. Moving slow, she worked her hands free and dropped the cord, but held her arms like she remained tied so he wouldn’t notice she’d gotten loose. Hah. I broke your stupid valuable rope. Take that!
Dell snuggled up to the dirt once more and rested his head on his arm.
She waited another minute before reaching forward to untie her feet. The poorly tightened knot gave way with ease, making far less noise than sawing. Triumphant, Kiera kicked her legs free of the rope and hurled it aside. She shifted to all fours, staring at the wagon like a predatory cat. Something she could wear might be among the junk, but if the snap of rope startled Dell awake, he’d definitely catch her trying to steal from the cart.
Her gaze settled on the plastic pouch of yellow protein bars. Ugh. Still, food was food, and they’d foolishly left it close to her. She crawled to it, picked it up, and eased back against the rubble. Dell guarded the opening in the C like they couldn’t even comprehend that anyone could simply scale the pile of dirt and concrete bits. If not for them trying to kidnap her, she might have pitied them for being idiots.
Kiera bit the food pouch, holding it with her teeth so she could use both hands to climb, careful not to grab anything rusty or sharp. Free of ropes, going up the wall proved a simple task. Hunks of concrete sticking out here and there made it as easy as the baby version of the climbing wall at the gym. At the top, the continuous wind again blew over her, bringing a momentary shiver as her sweat-soaked skin cooled. Dried slime from the tank matted her hair into a sticky mess, but a few threads fluttered in the breeze. She perched at the peak of rubble and peered back at the men to make sure none had noticed her. Relieved to find them all sleeping, she shifted around to descend the outside feet-first. At the bottom, she took a few steps backward before turning around, gazing in horrified awe at a sprawl of moonlit ruin.
The rubble ring in which they had camped sat at the edge of a former city, probably a downtown section. She couldn’t recognize the place compared to the world she once knew. It looked more like a scene from one of her games than any place that had ever existed for real. The emptiness frightened her in a way being kidnapped had not, worsening her feelings of being small, alone, and vulnerable. A yawn forced its way out of her.
I need to hide.
Despite pouring with sweat, she trembled from a chill. It had to be close to midnight or past it. Between walking with Legacy and the cart ride as a captive, she figure
d she’d been awake since early morning. As much as she wanted to run and keep running until the sun came up, her exhausted body wouldn’t obey. I’ve been sleeping for at least a whole school year in virtual reality… I should be able to stay awake.
She yawned again.
Kiera sprinted away from the rubble, heading toward the shadowy buildings. A short section of paving warmed her feet, still clinging to the heat it had baked in all day. Towering monstrosities of concrete and steel loomed over her on both sides. Gnarled, twisted struts of I-beams raked at the air, greedy fangs waiting for a meal. She jogged onward, staring side to side at every shadow.
She followed the path of what had once been a street for about ten minutes before catching sight of an old building that still had three intact floors. It stood near a few others that also remained recognizable as structures and not mounds of rubble and junk. It would’ve been dumb to hide in a single intact place with nothing nearby. If they had five or six buildings to check, the kidnappers might get frustrated and leave before they found her.
A short dash into the wind chased the oppressive heat away and brought her to a crumbling window frame. Any trace of glass had vanished years ago. She climbed up and into an alien landscape of furniture covered in windblown silt. The sand everywhere had the feel of talc, soft and cushy to walk on. The air tasted like dirt but smelled of mildew. Weak moonlight didn’t penetrate far into the building, but her fear at being abducted again forced her onward down a corridor into total darkness. She slid her feet over the floor to avoid stepping on anything that would cut her, and kept one hand on the wall. Soon, her toe jabbed into something spongy. She squatted and felt around, guessing that she’d discovered a foam ceiling tile.
The wind howled in the upper reaches of the building, frightening a shiver out of her. She felt her way along the corridor, venturing deeper while climbing over soft rubble. Something plastic shot out from under her foot, making her fall flat on dry, scratchy/crumbly material. Nothing collapsed further, and after a few seconds of listening to silence, she pushed herself up to stand again, and continued.
Citadel: The Concordant Sequence Page 8