The Vengeful Robin

by Erica Andrews

  Footsteps reached my ears and I finally realized what Claius had been telling me.

  He heard them before I did. Even in death he was trying to save me.

  “More soldiers are coming. We need to go… Now.”

  “Now!”

  Finally they pulled their gaze from Claius to me.

  I moved in front, ready to lead the way, but I couldn’t resist one last glance. I didn't want to remember Claius like this, cold and alone with his life source flowing out of him, but no matter what, the sight of him there on the cold floor would forever be burned into my memory.

  What I really wanted to remember was his smile, his wisdom. His love.

  Shadows skittered along the wall, and I left the only man to love me, for them to find.

  We hid behind the columns, before dashing out into the open. The sun beat down on us as we ran, Jon and James on either side of me, and Mac at my back. I was almost certain he could run faster than me, but was using his body as a shield to protect me.

  A quarter of the way there, yells came from behind. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I refused to lose someone else.

  “Run faster!”

  I pumped my legs harder, urging the men to keep up.

  The line of trees signaled our freedom. Almost there.

  An arrow landed by my foot.

  Shit.

  They were shooting at us.

  At me.

  I glanced back. Jon and Mac were not far behind me. Suddenly, James propelled himself ahead of us, and before I could blink, he turned back into a polar bear. With an earth-shattering roar, he grabbed me.

  There was no time to question whether I should or shouldn’t, so I clambered onto his back, taking great fistfuls of fur to hold on to as he took off again.

  Mac and Jon flanked the massive bear, and the three of them dodged arrows as they fled to the safety of the trees.

  An arrow scraped my leg. James stiffened beneath me and let out another roar, then stumbled, but kept going.

  I gasped. Was he hit?

  I tried to check, but the jostling and trying not to fall off made it impossible. My leg burned, but I didn’t look at it. If we could just make it past the trees, then I would have time to look at my wounds.

  So close.

  We plunged into the forest, branches swatting my face. But I didn’t care. We’d made it.

  The soldiers stood out in the open, watching us as we turned around and stared back.

  This wasn’t over. Far from it.

  In fact, this was just the beginning.

  I climbed off James’ back. Jon and Mac came to my side and looked me over, probably noticing the blood.

  I raised my hand. “I’m fine. Let’s find everyone. We need to check on Smite and the shifters.”

  James, still in polar bear form, snorted and lifted his head, then sniffed. He began walking.

  I shrugged. “I guess we follow the bear.”

  Once we got deeper into the woods, I finally smelled what James had already scented. Shifters.

  A moment later, we came across the shifters, waiting with eager expressions, along with the rest of my men.

  Fagen had Smite lying down near the boulder Claius had sat on only a few hours ago, while Aman and Mark played with the children. Rafe was checking on the elderly.

  Emotion clogged my throat.

  After seeing Claius die, I thought that we had lost. That we had maybe done more harm than good. But, seeing the children laugh with the men and the small smiles of the elderly, we hadn’t lost.

  Sure, we had lost people. Someone I didn’t even know I loved until it was too late.

  But Claius would be happy to see this.

  As I walked deeper into the group, everyone grew silent making me self-conscious.

  I wanted to give some glorious speech, something that would bring tears to their eyes. My father was a monster, but if there was one thing he could do, it was make people listen and follow him. I just hoped I could do the same, but not for the same reasons.

  Finally, I went with, “Thank you.”

  Then I froze. What was that?

  As one, the shifters cocked their heads, listening. I did the same. It took a second to realize what I was hearing.

  Gunshots.

  Someone was being shot.

  Sneak Peek

  For a look at my next series, THE UNDERGROUND, turn the page.

  Underground

  Prologue

  One hundred years ago the world as we knew it ceased to exist. War turned countries against each other. The effects of bio-weaponry turned regular animals and our loved ones into monsters, while killing almost all vegetation and bringing famine in its wake. Family turned against their loved ones. In order for the human race to survive, precautions had been made by what some would deem in the early twenty-first century as ‘preppers’ that would come to save what was left of the human race. But it came at a cost. People were left behind and things such as common decency were things of the past. The ones who made it to the bunkers first lived with the spoils of war, while the others had become cannon fodder.

  Now, a hundred years later, we still live in bunkers below the surface. Giant tunnels trail through the center of the Earth to hide us from the monsters we created. The ones that still live on the Above. And thrive.

  We stay hidden in our tunnels and metal Underground while they thrive above us. And we never leave the safety of our home. That is the rule that keeps us safe. Rules are law, because without them, the small existence we know will fall around us.

  The History of the End of the World

  Dr. Boris Thurgood 2030

  “I can get it, just one more twist.” The metal always felt right in my hand. The cold hardness against the calluses on my skin. Even as a young child, this was where I was happiest. Fixing things. Creating them.

  “Havana, get out of there. I’m not telling you again, you’re pushing it.”

  I smiled and tightened my hand around the wrench. Cyrus was always one to worry about anything he could think of. Two years he had been over the red fraction. The youngest one in our one hundred year history, in fact. Maybe that was why he worried.

  “Oh, ye of little faith. Don’t you trust me, Cyrus?” I answered in a sing-song voice, continuing in my work.

  A sigh escaped from the large man below me. “I trust you, little one. What I don’t trust is that rusty pipe, not to mention the way you’ve gone about fixing it. You couldn’t figure out any other way to do this?”

  The pipe beneath my trusty wrench cracked and moaned with every twist, threatening to burst at the rusted seams. I frowned, staring at the metal in front of me. For once I couldn't argue with him. Hanging upside down while fixing a one-hundred-year-old pipe hadn’t been the brightest idea I had ever had. And I had many in my twenty years, but it had to be done. The pipes were failing. Among other things.

  Our grandparents built this underground commune before the War of all Wars began. They were accused of being insane, if not slightly eccentric, as they prepped for the war that hadn’t even been whispered about yet. But somehow, they knew it would eventually happen. Their ‘insanity’ ended up being one of the largest communes to be made, housing three hundred people. It worked flawlessly, not needing anything from the Above. Self-sufficiency at its best. It was perfect.

  Now?

  I cranked the handle one more time to be safe, just as black oil shot out, smearing across my face.

  We were falling apart.

  “Havana, get down from there.”

  By now, the blood was rushing to my head, leaving me slightly dizzy. Yep, definitely not one of my best ideas. I closed my eyes against the continuous spray of oil and pushed aside Cyrus and his ranting. He could scold me when I had my feet firmly on the ground. Right now, I needed to stop the oil, or we would have an even bigger problem. I groped for the pipe and found the small crack that spewed oil onto the metal floor below. “Cyrus, quiet! Just give me one second.”

&nbs
p; He didn’t respond. Cyrus was one of the closest things I had to family, but sometimes his worry could be overwhelming. And right now, I needed to focus before I passed out.

  With one hand still on the pipe, I reached into one of my many pockets, trying to remember which one held the thing that I needed. Tape.

  My fingers trembled as I tried not to lose focus. Finally, I found it in the last pocket I tried. Relief coursed through me as I pulled out the roll, prompting a curse from Cyrus.

  “Havana, you can’t fix everything with tape. Now, get down or I’m getting you out of there.”

  Ignoring Cyrus, I kept my eyes closed and focused on my breathing. I was afraid of the oil damaging my eyes and that the tape wouldn’t work, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I set to work wrapping the tape around the pipe. The steady stream of liquid seemed to grow less with each tightening of the sticky binding.

  He was right, though I would never admit it to him.

  There was a reason he was the youngest leader of the faction, and it wasn’t because of his looks. Though I'd seen enough girls my age watching him, wishing he would give them a second glance. They admired his almond-shaped eyes and shaved head. He said hair took too long to maintain, so he shaved for time efficiency. Which to me didn't make sense, since it took time to shave. Either way, Cyrus was smart. Very smart. Add in the fact that we both knew we couldn’t hold this place together with tape...

  But we also both knew that right now, we didn't have a choice. For the first time in one hundred years, supplies were running low. Over a week ago, the commander and her advisors had sent a team of scouts to check for resources. Today was the eighth day and still we hadn't received word. Which wasn’t good. So, until we came up with a better plan, it was up to us, the mechanical crew, to use what we had. And what we had was tape.

  With a few more rolls of the tape, the continuous spray of the liquid seemed to stop. Aware that I could be imagining it, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand before hesitantly opening them to check the said leak.

  Well, it wasn’t my best work. The black liquid had slowed to a small drip that fell onto the floor right at Cyrus’s large feet.

  It would have to do.

  Grinning with relief, I twisted my body upright, the flow of blood moving back to the rest of my body and making it tingle. I grinned down at Cyrus who was still frowning up at me with stress lines on his somewhat young face. Not yet thirty, Cyrus held the responsibility of men twice his age and for that reason, I didn't egg him… at least not a lot.

  Hands on the belts that held me up, I lowered myself, but stopped a few inches from the floor, making myself level with Cyrus. “Well, I guess tape saved the day again.”

  Not taking my eyes off him, I refused to wipe away the oil that slid down my face. My hair was coated in it, too, causing my scalp to itch, but I didn't scratch it, choosing instead to hover half a foot above the ground and grin at Cyrus. When he frowned more fiercely, I jerked on the rope and belt holding me and with practiced precision lowered myself to the floor beside him. I was a filthy mess, and had likely stained the clean uniform I had put on mere hours ago. A small smile graced my features at the thought of a long shower.

  Ever since water had been regulated, showers were only allowed twice a week. Unless it couldn’t be helped… like now.

  When the water had first started to run out, we made the decision to make a small incision into the ground. The elders of the Underground had been against it, but it had saved us. It had created a system that, when it rained, allowed us to filter the water and have a regular influx.

  Ten years it had been a lifesaver.

  Now it appeared the Above was experiencing a drought. Weeks had come and gone, and there’d been no new water. Our rain buckets were slowly dwindling.

  This was the main reason we’d sent out the scouts. Whispers of what had happened to them drifted through the halls. Stories that we had been brought up with, from the people who had first founded the Underground.

  Of course, nobody knew what was out there. Not really. The first generation of people in the Underground had only lived twenty years. Some said it was radiation poisoning. Others said mental breakdowns. Either way, the only records now were their fables and stories. And they weren’t pretty.

  “Havana, start listening to me when I tell you to come down. That oil could have got into your eyes and blinded you.”

  Cyrus’ comment pulled me from my inner dialogue, and I turned to realize that he had been talking the entire time. “Honestly, Cyrus? You’re right, but we needed that patched up. We have too many issues already with the Underground and now we have one less.”

  He sighed before placing his large hand on my shoulder. I always forgot about his size, even though it was always there for me to see. It was the first thing most people noticed about him—especially women.

  What was funny was that I found his temperament and personality to be the exact opposite of someone with his size. Maybe that was why we got along so well.

  “It is good, little bit. But I actually need you to do something else today, besides work.”

  My smile dimmed. Cyrus never told me to stop working. “Why? What’s more important than what I’m doing here?”

  He grimaced before looking around, almost as if to make sure we were alone, before answering. “We, kiddo—meaning me and you—actually have a meeting with the commander tonight, along with two people from each faction of the Underground.”

  His words surprised me. The commander didn't talk to us. At least not me. Instead, she chose to stay behind her red curtains, talking to each leader of the factions via intercom. The fact that she wanted to see not only the leader of each faction, but one other as well... it didn't bode well for any of us. “What do you mean, we? I’m not a leader, Cyrus. You are.”

  He squeezed my shoulder before dropping his hand, and raised his eyebrows. “The commander said to come in pairs and I chose you. Or did you want me to bring someone else? Like Finn?”

  He knew I hated Finn. Or at least, I told myself that.

  He was second best, right below me in speed and accuracy in finished jobs. Since the age of thirteen, when we had been selected for our apprentice jobs, we had a strong competition going between us. Then, two years ago everything had changed. He blamed my family for the death of his. Didn't matter that mine died right along with his.

  Unwilling to let Finn take a coveted place, whether it was out of my strong sense of competitiveness, or out of spite, I nodded. “Fine, I’ll go, but what is this mystery meeting about?”

  Cyrus shook his head and rubbed his stubbled scalp. “I don’t know, but whatever it is had to be urgent to call a last-minute meeting this morning.”

  I silently agreed as we made our way down the hallway and people stared at the now dried muck all over my uniform.

  Each faction wore uniforms, color coordinated to show what area they worked in. Before your ceremony at thirteen, you wore whatever color you wanted, as you were allowed to learn about each faction along with your daily schooling. Then at thirteen, when you decided, that was the color that stayed with you.

  Mine was red.

  Red for the engineers.

  Green for the farmers.

  Blue for the water filtration.

  Yellow for the doctors and healers.

  Orange for the day to day chores and childcare.

  And black for everything that the rest of us pretended didn't happen. The criminals who broke the few rules we did have were put into the black faction, along with soldiers and guards. They were the ones who trained day in and day out in case we ever met the things from the Above.

  They were also the ones that had disappeared on the scouting mission.

  With one last nod to Cyrus, I turned right toward the shower room. The Underground only had communal showers. Male and female. As a community, we shared everything, whether that be the task of raising children, or water to stay clean. Either way, the elders wanted to make sure
we cut down on using anything to excess, like water, food, clothing.

  I entered the shower room, which looked like a giant swimming pool. Or what I assumed one to look like from the pictures I’d seen in books. I pressed a button to activate the five-minute shower heads and stepped beneath one. I shed my clothes quickly under the lukewarm water and instantly pressed the button to start to lather up my body and hair.

  The community was based on the life philosophy of waste not, want not. So, we had set rules, such as minimizing shower use, and having one liquid that could wash every part of you. It was neutral with no smell, and we didn’t only use it to wash our hair and body, we used it on our clothes and dishes as well.

  With a minute left, I rinsed off, then picked my wet clothes off the floor and dumped them into the laundry. I grabbed a towel from a large shelf to the right and walked out.

  I made a sharp left right outside and started the long trek to my living quarters. Unless married, we stayed in the barracks with assigned housemates. Again, taking up as little room as possible.

  Since the age of thirteen, I had shared a room with the same three girls, all from a different part of a faction. In order for us to respect each other, we were made to live with one another to understand what our individual roles were. That way, we were reminded that everyone plays a part, and not one is more important than the others.

  And in a way, it worked. For the most part, we were happy, with crime almost nonexistent and an overabundance of food. At the females’ area of the living quarters, I made the short jaunt to my room and went inside. No one was there, which wasn’t surprising. Everyone had a job, and unless you were sick or had your one mandated off, you worked for at least your allotted twelve hours.

  Zoe, Mandy, and Octavia worked the same hours as me, which could make having boys over or getting ready for bed awkward, but we made it work.

  I reached into my small hamper for another one of my red uniforms and quickly got it on. Then I sat on my lower bunk and brushed the tangles out of my russet-colored hair. I glanced at the clock on the wall to check exactly how many hours I had until my first meeting with the commander. Two hours till supper, then after that the meeting.