I try to keep Kell between us as a buffer, but the old man scurries ahead at times, leaving me within an arm's reach of Jax. Someone from Kell's group had provided me with a battered, old hat, and I jam it down as far as it can go on my head so as to block Jax from my side view.
We walk like this in silence for a bit before he finally says, "Tara—"
"Don't even," I say shortly, cutting him off. "There ain't nuthin' you have to say that I wanna hear, got it?"
He answers me with a stiff nod. We walk a while longer, following Kell as his gray head bobs ahead in front of us through numerous streets and side alleys. Shizen, just how far was this black market anyways? It's a good thing Kell is leading us 'cause I am lost right now.
"Tara," Jax says again as he grabs my elbow, and I try to pull away.
"What did I—"
"Shut up for just one second and listen, dammit," he hisses in my ear as we keep walking. "Don't look now, but we are being followed and—I said don’t look!"
He yanks on my arm as I start to swivel my head.
"You sure?" I say, annoyed and a little pissed at myself for not noticing. I had been so intent on blocking out Jax I ain't even spotted 'em.
"Aye, been watching them for a while now. They’ve been tailing us for the past few streets. I thought at first it was my imagination, but it isn't. They're following us all right."
"Is it Army?" I ask, fighting the urge to look back and find out for myself.
"Not sure. Kell!" he yells to the old man in front of us. Kell pauses and waits for us to catch up. "I think we have company," Jax says, not losing a step. Much to the old man's credit, he don't even blink an eye.
"Only one way to find out then. This way," he says and changes direction. We pick up our pace and make our way through the street, past the vacant stares of indifference. Making a sharp turn we find ourselves in an empty alleyway, bordered by a broken wall still high enough to hide us from the eyes of our pursuers. Hurrying past the wall, we take position on either side of the hole we had just come through. We wait to see if what Jax suspects is really true. If they are following us, then they would have no reason to come down this alley other than for us.
We ain't gotta wait long. A scuffling of footsteps and some low whispering confirms they are indeed searching for us.
"I tell ya, that's them. I recognized 'em from the poster. We gotta find 'em."
"You sure they came this way? There ain't nothing down here."
The other voice sounds confused, and the footsteps stop. Please, go away, I pray, trying to sway 'em with my mind. My heart is beating outta my chest at the thought of another confrontation. If they are Army, then surely others won't be far behind. My eyes search the far wall for another way out, and I panic even more as I realize we’re in a dead end. Seriously, Kell? This was the best you could do?
"They came this way all right. Over there. There's a hole in that wall. They had to have gone that way."
Shizen. Why cain't the gods ever grant me one prayer? Just one. I pull my shooter outta the back of my trousers as I glance over at Jax. He stiffens and does the same as the footsteps start up again and draw closer. Looks like we’re gonna have to fight our way out.
As soon as they cross the threshold, Jax tackles the first while I jam my boot into the back of the second guy's knee, sending 'em both sprawling across the dirt floor.
"Don't move," Jax growls as he holds his shooter on 'em. "Hands above your heads."
They do as he says, and the one I’d taken down peers up at me from his prone position with fearful eyes.
"Don't shoot. We ain't no threat. We’ve been searching for you."
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, you piece of Army shite,”I growl at him but it only seems to cause his fear to turn to confusion.
“Army? We ain’t army,” he answers.
“Lies.” I shake my shooter at him to emphasize.
"We can prove it. You're the fugitives, right? The ones the Prezedant's been looking for? I mean, you look an awful lot like the drawings."
I take my eyes offa him for a brief moment to glance at Jax in puzzlement. What is he talking about?
"What drawings?" Jax asks.
"The wanted poster. The—can we stand up now?" the other asks, and Jax hesitates before he shrugs and motions with his shooter for 'em to go ahead. I take a step back and narrow my eyes at 'em, my shooter rock steady.
"No sudden movements," I growl at 'em, but I can tell right away he ain’t lying about being Army. Their dress is too shabby, their worn and dirty garb similar to what most of these city dwellers wear. Their young, gaunt faces are a testament to their little access to decent food. No, they ain't no soldiers. One of 'em starts reaching around to the small of his back, and I raise my shooter in threat.He freezes in place.
"Don't shoot. Geez! I'm just reaching for the poster."
He waits for me to nod my consent before he moves again, one hand up in the air while the other pulls a rolled-up piece of paper outta his back pocket and holds it out to us.
"Kell," I say, not wanting to take my attention offa 'em, and the old man grabs the paper. I can hear his little gasp as he unrolls it.
"Oh, dear me. You two have to see this," he says.
Making sure Jax has 'em covered, I glance at what Kell holds up, and I'm speechless to see my image staring back at me. And not just mine. Jax and Mack are there, too. All of us, drawn to perfection by some unknown hand, and the word “WANTED” boldly painted in red above our heads.
"Jax … it's a wanted poster. It says I'm a 'dangerous New Blood,' and that you and Mack are my accomplices. There's a 10,000 piece coin reward for our capture." My eyes narrow again at the two in fronta us as understanding sets in. No, they ain't Army; they're worse.
"You were tryin' to capture us for the reward," I accuse, knowing full well I ain't gonna be taken down by these two fools.
"What? Noooo." The younger-looking one closest to me shakes his head, and his eyes open wide in denial. "I mean, yeah, the coin would be nice, but that ain't why we're following you."
"Why then?" I ask.
"Well, like I said, we recognized you from the wanted posters. Jonas, he's had us all looking for you all over. I can't wait to tell him we found you."
"You better tell me something soon that makes sense," I snap at the one in fronta me. "Or else I'm just gonna shoot you both and not run the risk of you following me anymore."
"No need for that now," the one in fronta me cries as he holds his hands up again. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. I'm Peter, and that's Corni. We live here in this hell hole known as Skytown. Jonas is, well, he's our leader, I'd guess you would call him. A rebel leader. We're all rebels, like you."
"We’re not rebels," Jax says, lying through his teeth, but I can tell they don't fall for it.
"Whatever, man. Look, we know who you are; we're not gonna turn you in. We've heard stories through the channels, stories of the New Blood and what she’s done. Then yesterday, we hear talk buzzing 'round of some big escape from Royal Island. That the New Blood everyone was talking about was here—in Skytown. And not only had she set free every single prisoner in his dungeon, but had also taken the big man down himself!" The one doing all the talking, Peter he’d called himself, looks me up and down with respect. "Is it true? Did you really stick him with a shot of serum?"
I don't see no need to lie about it, so I nod, and his face can barely contain the grin that spreads from ear to ear.
"I knew it! I knew that shite couldn't be all made up. That is phenomenal. Jonas is gonna be so stoked."
I cut short his gushing admiration.
"Why were you looking for us then? Do you have a way for us to get outta the city?"
"No," he says and looks at me uneasily like I’m about to take his head for that. When I don't react, he continues on, "But Jonas might. He's pretty smart. He's gotten us outta a few predicaments over the years."
"Why?" Jax interrupts. "Why do you want t
o help us? You know just by talking to us, you could be signing your own death warrants."
The other one, Corni, laughs. "Those were signed years ago, man. We’re already dead men walking. With every day that goes by, we are being worked to death making shite for those rich bastards of Royal Island. Starved with never enough food allotted out to us or our families. Never enough fresh water to drink. Being cooped up in this prison he calls a city with no hope for a future. You lot are the most hope we've had in a while. We've heard stories of life outside the wall. Life with freedom and choice. Is it true?"
I ain't sure how I should answer that. Was it a life of freedom or choice? Not really. I mean, before these past couple of months, I woulda said yes. But a lot has changed since then. The more I’ve seen and learned, well, it’s obvious no matter where you lived, the Prezedant still managed to have some impact on your life. Still, it was better than being stuck inside these walls as his slaves, I reckon. I choose to simply nod at 'em. It seemed a hell of a lot easier than trying to explain. My answer seems to please 'em; however, and they glance at each other eagerly.
"If we help you, will you help us? Will you help us get outta here, away from this prison for good?" Peter says, and I can see the hopeful expectation in his young eyes. It makes up my mind for me.
"If you help get us on the other side of those walls, we will take you with us, yes," I say.
I ignore Jax's quizzical gaze. I cain't explain to myself why I should trust these two, so I sure as hell cain't explain it to him. It just seemed the right thing to say.
They study each other a bit more, as if not quite sure how to take my words, and then nod as if some unspoken agreement is made.
"Good. Great. We have a place where we meet, away from the eyes of the Army. Canal Bridge. They avoid it like the plague. Meet us underneath on the south side at ten on the hour. Someone will be there to take you to Jonas. He is most definitively gonna want to meet you all."
My eyes question Jax. Do we agree to this? Or is it really a trap?
"Kell, do you know of this spot they are talking about?" he says.
The old man screws up his face in thought.
"Hmmmm, yes. I do know of it. The boys are right; no Army would dare step foot in that infested swamp. It is as safe a spot as any to meet."
That is all I need to hear.
"So be it. We will meet you there. And I'm keepin' this," I say as I take the wanted poster and roll it back up again, but one of the young'uns shrugs.
"Keep it. There's plenty more of 'em plastered all over the city. Word of advice, get offa the streets 'cause everybody and their dog is gonna be chomping at the bit to turn you in for that reward."
His words bother me more than I let on. But I know he’s right.
"Why ain't you then?" I say, looking 'em over in curiousity. "Why ain't you turnin' us in? That reward would probably ease your burden some, for sure."
"Aye, it would. However, the coin will eventually run out, but this prison will last 'til the day we die," the young one says with a wisdom far beyond his years. "We’ll take Jonas your message."
It was quite clear to me now—to all of us really—why the Army avoided Canal Bridge. Kell had failed to mention it was a dump site for all the garbage and waste created by the thousands of souls living in this city. Every picked-clean carcass, every slop bucket, every piece of carrion left over from the slaughter houses ended up here. The smell is almost overwhelming the closer we get to the bridge. The bile rises in the back of my throat and I have to fight the urge to retch up my meager supper. Mack, Jax, and Busher look just as green around the gills, but Kell don't look the least bit affected by it all. The man must have a cast-iron stomach. If the rest of us had known about the specifics of our meeting spot earlier today, I doubt any of us would have come so willingly.
We’d arrived back at the safe house after our encounter today just a few steps ahead of Zoe and her crew. They had stumbled upon the wanted posters as well and had hurried back with the news. Zoe was of the same mindset as us. Having that many more people aware of our presence in the city and looking for us was not good. Before we had been faceless fugitives, but now, with our images plastered all over the city, it increased our vulnerability tenfold. I wondered at first how they had captured our images so perfectly, but then I assumed the Camons and Missus Bodes had been more than willing to help in the creation of the wanted poster. I'm sure Jax's image, at least, was burned into her mind.
And if the wanted poster wasn't bad enough, Mack had brought up the point of the people we had taken refuge with. What if they were lured by this exorbitant amount of coin and decided to turn us in? And really, who could blame 'em if they did? If it meant having food in your stomach for a bit, well, I seen worse things done for a lot less. Kell assures us we ain't got anything to worry about from his people, but like Mack, I ain't so convinced.
The news of our meeting with the supposed rebels had been met with some excitement and some reluctance. Could we trust them? Could they help us? Busher seemed to think it was a trap while Mack believed they were our only choice. After a lot of bickering back and forth, we had finally agreed on one thing: We couldn't afford not to meet with 'em. If it meant a way of escaping the wall, then we gotta take the chance.
Ben had wanted to go with us. Now that he was caught up on everything, he felt like he needed to be by my side every hour of the day. Like somehow, he had to protect me. I had finally gotten him to agree that he was needed more here to watch over Finn and Tater and the others. Even with Kell insisting otherwise, we still ain't sure what his group is capable of.
We ain't going in blind either. While Mack, Busher, Jax, Kell, and myself would go to the meet, Zoe and her crew along with Beanie and Talbert would hide outta sight. Our backup just in case this was some kinda trap after all. Their orders were to come looking for us if we fail to let 'em know everything was fine with the meet. We ain't taking any chances.
We approach the bridge with hesitation, and I pull my wrapper higher over my nose. There are men already there waiting, blending in with the night shadows. We don't see 'em til we are almost on top of 'em. At the sudden movements from under the bridge, my hand tightens around my shooter, and even though I ain't looking, I'm sure my companions are doing the same.
They walk out into the moonlight, so we can get a better look at 'em. It is the same two from earlier today, and I notice right away neither of 'em have their noses covered like I do. The smell don't seem to bother them at all. I guess having a cast iron stomach is a Skytown thing.
They give us a quick once-over, Busher causing 'em a double take. Finally, the one I remember to be Peter speaks.
"This way," he says.
We follow them underneath the bridge, wading through a mountain of refuse that reeks so bad my eyes water. Things I don't wanna know about squish and crunch under my boots, and every two steps brings a new assault of stench. I start gagging; I cain't help myself. And from the sounds behind me, I know I ain't the only one. I nearly jump outta my skin as, what I first believe to be a mound of garbage, squeaks indignantly at us and scatters at our invasion. The bones of whatever the rats had been feasting on glows obscenely white in the moonlight, and I turn my head, not wanting to see if the flesh-tattered carcass is animal or human.
After walking for far too long in this calf-high river of filth, we’re finally directed into a valley hidden between two walls of debris. Situated unexpectedly in the middle of this basin is a slant little building that looks like it’s trying its hardest to escape from the stench surrounding it. I reckon it had once been white 'crete, but over the years the walls have absorbed every bit of the disgusting liquids from the squalor around it, turning it a putrid greenish-gray. As filthy as it looks, I cain’t wait to get inside. Inside has to be better than outside—I hope.
The faint glow of a lantern illuminates the tiny square room we find ourselves in, throwing shade of the table it sits on and the plain, wooden chairs ‘round it. No one occ
upies any of the chairs though. They’re all on their feet, watching our entrance. After my eyes adjust, I see who shares the space with us. There are ‘bout a half dozen or so people, filling the room to overflowing. All men but one, a scrawny, young girl who is grinning at us with a mouth fulla teeth. No more than fifteen or sixteen born years, I reckon. Her horsey smile somehow puts me at ease.
None of us speak at first; we kinda just size each other up cautiously.
Finally, one of the young’uns that led us here says, "See, Jonas, I told you it was them."
The man in front breaks off from the group and approaches me. Instinctively, I step back as Jax moves in, coming between us. But the man don't touch me. Instead, he throws me off guard as he places his fingertips to his forehead then loops down with an elegant flourish to touch his chest in the same manner. A form of greeting I assume.
"It is an honor to meet you, New Blood," he says. "I am Jonas."
"Please call me Tara, not New Blood," I say, and he bows his head in agreement.
The other men all follow suit, making the gesture with their fingertips to me. Before Jonas can say any more; however, the young girl leaps at me, and I find myself wrapped in her arms. Too stunned to react, I just accept her awkward embrace.
"I can't believe you are here!" she whispers before Jonas peels her away. She lets him, but she’s still beaming at me with all those teeth.
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