The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  “Thank you,” I say, watching her as she returns to her seat. These people don’t know me, but they look at me like I am the most interesting person they’ve ever met.

  “Open it!” Drew calls from a stool near the kitchen. I laugh, my fingers finding the folds of the paper. I try to pry it gently.

  “Just rip it,” he groans. Laughter rolls through the room.

  I tear the paper and find I’m holding a book without a name. I look to Meli, and she nods, encouraging me to open it. When I do, I can’t believe what I’m looking at. It is a book of pictures. The first page is of a wide-open field, with bright green grass and flowers in every color. The sun shoots a beam across the image, making me feel like I am standing there, seeing it with my own eyes. The next picture is of rolling hills, with a red building set off to the side and large animals grazing an open space of grass. With each picture, my heart speeds faster, until I turn to a picture of a large body of water…and everything in my chest stops working.

  “What is this?” I breathe.

  Cash leans in and touches the edge of it. “It’s the ocean,” he murmurs.

  The water stretches so far, there is nothing on the other side. The sky above it is pink and orange and yellow. I turn and meet Cash’s eyes. There’s a feeling growing in me, something like longing and a pull toward something important. Something that is meant for me.

  “Where is this?” I whisper. I turn to Meli. “What is this place?”

  She smiles. “It’s the South,” she says. “It’s where you belong.”

  “Where I belong,” I repeat quietly. “You mean, this is where we come from? The Workers?”

  Meli nods. “It’s where many of the people in this room come from.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. And Cassidy.” She nods toward Drew, smiling. “Many of us. We’ve come to get you back.”

  I look around the room, and people are nodding. Some grin, while others wear faces like warriors—stern and hard.

  “You’ve come to free us.”

  Drew steps forward. “And we won’t leave until it’s done, Hannah. You have our word.”

  I take in all the faces—all the people I didn’t know existed. I connect with their eyes, see the way they mean every word, and I feel it. It is Norma’s hand holding mine in her unit, telling me that there is always hope. It is Cash’s body shielding me from the glass—his arms keeping me from shattering the day that Edan died. It is my hands clutching the mother after the shards tore her baby’s skin. And it is Edan, taking the bullet meant for his friend, spilling his blood so that Cash could live. I stare at all the faces, and I know I am changed. I grab Cash’s hand, meeting his eyes. The way he’s watching me, like my relief is his relief, pours warmth over my heart.

  This is the beginning, Edan said. He faced the room, sweeping a hand in its general direction. This is the revolution.

  I turn back to the eyes that watch me. Hope fills my chest, so full I can barely breathe.

  I am not alone.

  Acknowledgements

  God is first. Without Him, I would still be stumbling through social anxiety, living in the darkness of doubt, and fearing all the faces around me. Freedom is a process, and painful. But I see the purpose in every step of the journey. Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough. Here’s my life.

  Thank you to my husband. How that man has suffered. Piles of laundry, messy rooms, dirty dishes. Let’s not mention the emotional whiplash. Writing a book is time consuming. Self-publishing is life-altering. I’m so grateful for your patience and support! And with him, our two children. I just pray that my determination will inspire your creativity. You really can do anything.

  Thank you to my mom and dad, Jim and Jeannie Reinstein. You are forever the greatest examples of endurance, strength, and love that exist for me. You may not always think it, but that makes it no less true. Thanks, Mom, for reading along as I wrote! Your feedback and encouragement kept me going! Dad, I love that we share the same excitement over editing. Long live the em dash!

  Thank you to my beta readers:

  Lila Verbeten, Sara Baysinger, Staci Boyd, Desiree Krehbiel, Sonja Gormley, Bethany Rea, Cassie Hayden, Kathy Hansen, and April Russum. Your encouragement and feedback brought new depth to the story. Your perspective made me think in new ways and challenged me to try new things. I really, truly couldn’t have done this without you. THANK YOU!

  I don’t think I’ll ever write an acknowledgement without taking a moment to thank my first-grade teacher, Ms. Ingham. You may not remember me, but I remember you. You put up with a lot of strange from the silent girl. But what I’m most grateful for is that you inspired my love of writing. You had us ‘publish’ books, making covers from cardboard and wallpaper. Thank you endlessly for that.

  Thank you to all the hardworking self-publishers that have gone before me. I’ve found a diverse community of writers who are generous with their knowledge and know-how. Thank you for offering so many resources to other writers…and for just being amazing.

  And finally, THANK YOU to my readers. Ultimately, it is you that has the last word on this. Thank you for taking the time to read words that I typed! Love always!

  Copyright © 2017 by Laura Frances

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  HERO (BOOK TWO

  Dedication

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  Acknowledgements

  HERO

  Laura Frances

  Dedication

  For the soldiers in my life.

  Thank you, Dad.

  **********

  There is always a choice while breath enters our lungs.

  You are more than you think.

  **********

  1

  When my eyes close, I hear their chattering teeth. My thoughts fill with the moans of the Outcasts, their broken bodies freezing in the alleys. Their sounds are part of me, replaying in my memories—calling me back to them.

  I open my eyes, and there are the mountains. Tears blur my vision until I’m forced to blink. There’s an ache in my chest, and it never leaves.

  I sit on the waving grass, legs stretched and leaning back so my arms support my weight. The sun is bright, but the wind is cold, and it reminds me. It would be easy to forget here.

  I lie back, my body cushioned by the soft earth. The sky is blue today, wide-open and brilliant. Every blue thing reminds me of Edan…of his eyes the night he found me. Thinking about him hurts, so I try not to. I push out a slow breath, trying to make his memory leave with the used-up air. My eyes fix on a flying red bird, watching it soar and dance until I’m distracted.

  “You’re crying.”

  My head turns, and Cash is there. He drops beside me, sitting with his arms on his knees. His blond hair is brighter in the sunshine. His eyes meet mine, eyebrows pulled low. I turn to the sky again and don’t answer. He didn’t require one anyway.

  After a minute of sitting this way, Cash scoots his body forward and lies on the grass beside me. His sleeve rests against mine, and when one of us moves, the back of our hands brush. Every point of contact brings a fluttering on my skin.

  “I used to do this,” he murmurs. “With my mother.”

  I peek over, and so does he. Cold, wet streams draw lines to my ears, but
I don’t wipe them. Cash’s lips quirk up before he faces the sky again. I study him a little longer before saying, “What was she like?”

  “Brave.” He turns back to me, and the sun catches in his eyes, making them gold.

  “But I didn’t know it then,” he continues. “Not until she was gone.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. I know what he means. My parents have been gone for eleven years, and I’m only just understanding them.

  He looks at me, and I look at him, and I begin to wish things. I wish this war was done and this quiet was where we lived now. I wish we didn’t have to move, because this moment feels strangely like home to me. It shouldn’t; I barely know him. But all the things I’ve seen tell me there’s no one better. His gaze drifts over my face, and his expression falls. He sees the burns. I sit up.

  Cash hauls himself from the ground and offers a hand to me. I take it, standing with a groan. Everything dips as I adjust to being upright. It’s been several days since they replaced the blood Titus stole, but my body is hesitating. I wipe the tears with my sleeve.

  Soldiers mill around, guarding Cash’s childhood home and the Southern edge of the valley. Drew is near the mountain path, talking with another soldier. He waves, and I lift a hand, returning it.

  “Hannah,” Cash says quietly beside me. When I turn, he’s looking at the ground, hands in his pockets. Unease settles over me. There’s something worrying about his features…the way his eyes lift slow to mine and his feet shift. Before he can speak again, a sound draws our attention. It’s a beating, something like hammers on a wall. We turn toward it, scanning the sky and the surrounding area.

  “Get to the house,” Cash urges, tugging on my arm. I follow his gaze. Appearing above the tree line are dozens of black hovering masses. They fly toward us, growing louder the closer they come to the mountains.

  “Run!” he shouts.

  The wind is stronger now, the beating deafening. Shadows move over the ground, slithering along the grass, blotting out the sun. Cash grabs my hand, pulling me faster. All around us, soldiers are running, racing toward the house and the trees for cover.

  We barrel through the front door, and Cash pulls me to a corner, maneuvering so his body shields mine. My heart beats too hard, the rhythm pulsing through my limbs. Nausea creeps up my throat, and I breathe slow to fight it. Drew and a few others slam through the back door.

  “What are they?” I ask over my shoulder.

  “Helicopters,” Cash says through heavy breaths. “A whole fleet.” My heart drops.

  “Where are they going?” I know the answer. I just need to hear him say it.

  “The valley,” he murmurs.

  “Do they know we’re here?”

  “By now they know the resistance is here,” he says. “Us…I don’t know.”

  We wait out the noise, huddled on the floor, crammed in corners like mice. I hold my breath, ready for the bomb that will level this house. I wait for the explosion, but it never comes.

  Across the room, Ian shouts, “How many?”

  Drew stands by the back door, peering through a thin opening.

  “Too many,” he calls back. “Can’t count ‘em. I’d say at least fifty.”

  Ian slams a fist to the counter before pacing.

  The sound, like a million jackhammers breaking earth, fills the air until there is nothing else. Only this pounding vibrating deep in my skull and chest. Pictures rattle on the walls, some crashing to the floor when they separate from their nails. Only a minute passes before it begins to fade, and Cash’s arms loosen. I break free and rush to a window where I watch as the last of them disappear over the mountains. They are huge, with two sets of propellers and long, narrow bodies.

  “What will they do?” I ask Meli. She sits on the floor to my right, arms propped on her knees. When she meets my eyes, her tanned skin has paled. Her head shakes.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she says, hauling her body from the floor and squaring her shoulders. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  She leans close, fury in her eyes. “I dare them to try and stop us.” She squeezes my shoulder and grins.

  When she walks away, a slow drag of air expands her ribs. The exhale is just as tense.

  Norma sits in an arm chair, a hand pressed to her chest and the other over her mouth. Her eyes are closed. I drop to my knees and touch her arm.

  “Are you all right?”

  She is fragile and small. I think even in a different life, if she hadn’t been a slave all these years, she would still be built this way. Her head nods, her lips pressing tight. When she opens her eyes and sees me, her features soften.

  “Just shaken is all,” she says. Her hand touches mine. “Thank you, Hannah.”

  Cash crouches at my side, his hand resting on the arm of the chair.

  “There will be more,” he says. “I’m not comfortable leaving you here.”

  “Don’t make a fuss over my safety, Cash,” Norma chides. “I doubt Titus sees me as a threat at this point in my life.”

  “Where would she go?” I ask. “Is there somewhere safer?”

  Norma sighs.

  “There’s a cabin on the mountain,” he says. My eyes widen, and I start to speak, but his words stop me. “The house is a target, but this side of the mountain is under our control.” He turns to Norma. “You’d be safer there.”

  “And how do you plan to get me up there?” Norma purses her lips, her head shaking. “I would only slow you down.”

  Cash touches her shoulder. His eyebrows pull in, and I’m reminded that she is the last of his family, apart from his father.

  Apart from the man who is hunting us.

  “I’ll get you there.” He stands, taking my hand and pulling me with him. The concern is still there when he looks at me and quietly says, “We need to talk.”

  “Okay,” I say. I try to sound calm and eager. But I know what’s coming. I know what revealing a hidden cabin on the mountain will mean. But I won’t do it. I won’t hide away.

  He guides me to the bedroom and closes the door. I sit on the edge of the bed, and he drags the rocking chair over. It creaks when he settles in it. He looks strange in this room. I’m not sure it suits him. He’s a harsh thing in a gentle place.

  Lines form across his forehead. He leans forward, elbows to knees, and stares at his hands. I’ve grown accustomed to this position. The struggle is written all over his face. It’s a selfish thing he wants to ask me, and he knows that. He’s choosing his words. I answer before the question leaves his lips.

  “No,” I say. He looks up, surprised. I shake my head. “I’m not going to the cabin.”

  Cash rubs his hands over his face. “You’re still healing,” he says. “You need to build up your strength—”

  “I need to be with Ben.” Saying his name, remembering his tiny body lying vulnerable while a fleet of helicopters descend on the valley, makes my insides squeeze.

  Cash stands and paces the room. He stops by the window, rubbing the back of his neck. When he turns to me, his expression has darkened.

  “He’ll be looking for you.”

  I rise from the bed. “I doubt—”

  “Don’t doubt it. His men will be instructed to find you.” He crosses to me. There’s a hesitation before his hand slides over my waist, grabbing a fist full of my shirt. He presses his forehead to mine and murmurs, “I need you safe.”

  “And I need to get to Ben,” I say. “Cash, I can’t leave him. I promised.” He nods.

  The silence stretches, but I don’t mind. Out there, the world is trying to wage a war. But here, in this room of soft things, I feel his closeness like an anchor. My eyes close.

  “I promised to keep you safe. To protect you,” Cash murmurs. “But in there…” His head shakes. He’s afraid of failing me again. He thinks the first time was his fault.

  “I’m choosing this,” I say, pulling back to look at him. “If something happens, it will be my fault. Not yours.”

  He looks ang
ry when his eyes meet mine.

  “If something happens,” he says. “He will pay for it with his life.”

  I have no answer for that. I know the evil that runs through Titus’ blood. His death would be a victory, and part of me wants to nod in support. But he is Cash’s father, and for that reason, I say nothing.

  We break apart, and I settle on the edge of the bed again. Cash sits beside me, leaning forward, hands rubbing his face. His fingers draw lines through his hair. They grab handfuls, and he stays this way, hunched over.

  My first instinct is to touch him. I should run a hand over his back or shoulder. I should comfort him, the way my mother used to comfort my father. My fingers twitch, and I know I should help him bear this. Instead I sit frozen, unsure of myself. I’m not afraid of him. I feel safest when he’s near me. A few days ago he kissed me, and I can still feel the pressure of it if I try. It’s not fear of him that has me hesitating. I don’t know what it is.

  When I lift my hand, nervous energy bursts in my middle. But the moment my fingers slide over his shoulders, the fear is gone. Replacing it is warmth, and something else. Something alive.

  Cash pushes his hands the rest of the way through his hair, then turns to me. His eyes are full of tenderness, and I start to think that I was wrong. He does belong in a place like this. He is softer than he seems. He smiles, just a little, and my heart swells. I was right to touch him. I feel braver for it.

  There’s noise outside the door. People running up and down the hall, shouting orders at each other. Drew’s voice drifts through the door, and I’m reminded of his resemblance to Aspen. The red hair. The green eyes. My stomach knots. Cash must see the change, because he sits up straighter and his eyebrows pull in.

  “Aspen,” I say, eyes wide. My heart is pounding. “She went with Jace. The men…they attacked the barracks, and Aspen was with them.” I push a fist to my chest, pressing against the ache. “Did she…is she alive?”

  I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. He’s measuring his words, calculating the effect they’ll have. His eyes don’t leave mine. The longer we sit this way, the hotter the anger grows. Not at Cash, but Jace. What kind of man brings a fourteen-year-old girl on a suicide mission?