Hostage

by Rachel Manija Brown

  Kerry was startled to see Mia’s clock read noon. She’d listened to Mia talk about machines for three hours! “I’d love some.”

  Mia lifted a pile of papers off a cooler. “Dad made enough for both of us.”

  She took out a jug of barley tea, and two covered dishes. Mia lifted the lids with a flourish, revealing prettily arranged lunches, consisting of three types of kimchi and a main dish of shredded meats and vegetables.

  Kerry didn’t need to feign her enthusiasm. “That looks great. My mother sometimes has the palace cooks make Korean food, but it’s the fancy banquet stuff. I like what the cooks make for themselves better.”

  Mia peered at Kerry’s face as if she hadn’t seen it before. “Oh, is your mother Korean?”

  Kerry nodded. “Is your father?”

  “Both sides, actually. Well, some of Dad’s ancient ancestors were Italian. But he loves Korean food. Grandma taught him. Are your banquet foods family recipes?”

  “My mother was an orphan. I think she collected them from antique recipe books. But she isn’t that interested in food, except for sickly-sweet desserts. What she really likes is clothing. I must have a hundred hanbok, but I never wear them. I don’t like big poofy skirts.”

  “Is that a kind of dress?”

  “It’s a traditional Korean outfit. It’s got a full skirt and a tight blouse.” Kerry eyed Mia. “You’d look good in one.”

  Mia looked gloomily at the front of her overalls. “In a tight blouse? I don’t think so.”

  Kerry laughed. “No, they look better if you don’t have huge breasts. Let me show you.”

  She reached for a slate. Mia watched intently as Kerry sketched the bell-shaped skirt and long-sleeved top. “I’d do a floral block print for you. Ice-blue flowers against forest green. With gold embroidery. I design my own clothing. I could do a full sketch, if you like. Someone in town could probably make it for you.”

  Mia made a face. “Mrs. Callahan. She’d probably stick me with a pin while she was doing the measuring.”

  Kerry examined Mia’s face again. It was strange to think that hundreds of years ago, their ancestors had come from the same place. Otherwise, of course, they had nothing in common. “Do you have a Korean name?”

  Mia gave Kerry a nervous look, as if she thought Kerry was mocking her. “Lee.”

  “I meant a given name.”

  Mia shook her head. “Do you?”

  “Ji Sun.”

  “That’s pretty,” Mia said. “Who calls you that?”

  “No one. I’ve always gone by Kerry.”

  Father allowed his wives to give their children whatever names they liked, but the names they used were the names he gave them. It wouldn’t surprise Kerry if, say, Fiona’s mother called her Busisiwe in private. But Min Soo never called her anything but Kerry. She’d explained that Kerry was the name that marked her as a princess and her father’s daughter. She should use Ji Sun when she announced herself by her full name, Min Soo had said, but never by itself.

  “I use it as a middle name,” Kerry finished belatedly.

  Mia didn’t seem to notice the long silence. “More kimchi?”

  Kerry realized that she’d cleaned her plate. While they’d been eating, she’d actually forgotten that she was a prisoner. She couldn’t remember ever casually chatting with another girl, other than relatives.

  Mia was running her forefinger around the plate, searching for stray crumbs. She’d clearly also forgotten that she was a guard, though Kerry was certain that she’d remember fast enough if Kerry tried anything.

  Don’t lose sight of the goal, she told herself. She’d never get a better moment than this to get a truthful answer to the question Kerry had been sitting on all day.

  Keeping her voice casual, she asked, “Has the town decided what they’re going to do with me?” Her heart pounded.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Kerry. I didn’t realize no one had told you. They’re going to do the hostage exchange.” Mia gave Kerry a big smile. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’ll take about two weeks for the messages to go back and forth, but you should be back in Gold Point before the month is out.” With an even bigger smile, Mia added, “And Ross will be back here. So enjoy your stay. I’ll show you the town later, when I go to fix Jack’s backup generator.”

  Kerry returned Mia’s smile, but it took an effort. Father would never agree to a hostage exchange. Maybe they didn’t know that in Las Anclas, but he had a policy of never negotiating with the enemy.

  Even if he did, he would never believe that Preston would return Kerry alive. Kerry didn’t believe it, either. Preston probably intended to use her as bait to get Ross back, then double-cross Father and kill her anyway.

  Father would undoubtedly mount a rescue mission, but Kerry didn’t dare wait for that. In two weeks, Las Anclas would learn that there would be no exchange.

  If she didn’t escape first, they would kill her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine. Las Anclas.

  Jennie

  It was early afternoon when Mr. Vilas finally arrived at the stable. Jennie sighed with relief. She’d traded stable duty with Carlos so she could catch the bounty hunter alone, and her shift was almost up.

  She’d planned out what she had to say. She was still a Ranger—and she loved the challenge, the workouts, the camaraderie. Making hard decisions was part of the package.

  Mr. Vilas saddled Sidewinder before he spoke. “Got something to say?”

  “I do.” They were alone, but she lowered her voice, just in case. “I know you were ordered to kill Ross if we couldn’t free him. I just want to tell you that if you hurt him, don’t bother coming back to Las Anclas. I’ll be waiting.”

  She looked straight at him, hoping that he could see how serious she was.

  “What makes you think I want to come back?” he retorted, but with a half-smile. Then the smile vanished. “This is why I don’t like towns. Things get complicated. Look. My orders are just to pass on the message, and bring Ross back if Voske gives him back. That’s all. And that’s all I’m going to do.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t try to hide her relief. But she thought, If he’s lying, I know what I’ll do.

  She was still in an unsettled mood when she got home. Would she really be willing to kill someone in cold blood, for revenge? An image flashed into her mind for about the tenth time that day, for the thousandth time since the battle: Ross lying dead at her feet. The bounty hunter had meant to shoot him in the back outside of Gold Point. That was cold blood.

  Yeah, I could do it.

  She walked into the kitchen, and discovered her parents sitting at the table. Waiting for her—like she’d waited for the bounty hunter. The kitchen, always so crowded, was otherwise empty.

  “Where is everybody?” Jennie asked, uneasy.

  “We sent them off,” Pa said. “So we could talk.”

  That was ominous. Her hunger vanished.

  Reluctantly, Jennie sat down. Plates of steaming cornbread, stewed turnip greens, and baked beans waited for her. Ma had saved her the curl of salt pork on the top of the beans. She started to scoop beans onto her plate, but her hand shook. She dropped her hands into her lap and gripped her fingers together.

  Ma touched Jennie’s shoulder. “Jennie, what gave you the idea of taking Kerry hostage? Was it really your decision? If Tom Preston ordered you to do it, you can tell us.”

  “It was my idea, Ma,” Jennie said. “Mr. Vilas was about to shoot Ross. That was on Mr. Preston’s orders. It was his secret backup plan to keep Ross out of Voske’s hands if we couldn’t rescue him.”

  Pa sat back, frowning. Ma looked upset.

  Jennie went on. “I was trying to stop him when I saw Kerry riding by. It came into my head, and I made it an order. She is the enemy. I was with her for a week coming back. She’s Voske’s daughter, through and through. She told us she’d inherit Las Anclas once her father conquered us.”

  Pa pushed back his dreadlocks with a sigh. “Like we
said before, we won’t second-guess a decision made in the enemy’s territory. But now that she’s here, you have a responsibility toward her. Can you imagine sitting in a cell, alone except for the weekend drunks and hot-heads, not knowing if you’ll be executed?”

  “That’s what she’d have done to me if she’d captured me,” retorted Jennie. “No, she’d have had my head cut off without even bothering to put me in a cell. She told us that, she even described it, and I promise you she enjoyed every word.”

  Ma looked away, and Pa grimaced. Jennie realized her voice had gotten loud. She forced herself to talk calmly. “You can ask anyone in my team.” Now she sounded sulky and defensive.

  Ma said in a low voice, “So you’re taking Voske as an example to follow?”

  “Of course not,” Jennie exclaimed. “How can you think that of me?” But her ears burned. She heard her voice when she’d faced Mr. Vilas: Don’t bother coming back.

  Her thoughts circled around and around. Had she done the right thing? What was the right thing? Sera’s voice came back to her: You never abandon your team. Wouldn’t it have been abandoning Ross if she hadn’t done anything to save him?

  She became aware of her mother’s hand, still on her shoulder. Jennie’s nails cut into her palms. The pause had become a long silence.

  “We’re worried about you, Jennie,” Ma said.

  Jennie closed her eyes. She’d never kept back important things from her parents, but she didn’t know where to start. Images flashed into her mind. Flickering firelight, and Sera falling. Dawn light, and Ross falling. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t talk about that. She couldn’t bear thinking about it.

  “I’m fine,” Jennie said. “Really.”

  Pa said gently, “Jennie, if you don’t feel you can talk to us, maybe you should talk to Pastor Camilla. Or to Dr. Lee.”

  Jennie drew in a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Pastor Camilla. Tomorrow. I have to train with the Rangers tonight.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Pa said, and Ma kissed Jennie’s cheek.

  As Jennie bent over her meal, she thought about what she could tell Pastor Camilla. She’d already told her parents why she kidnapped Kerry, and though she hadn’t enjoyed discussing that, nothing terrible had happened.

  She could talk about that. She didn’t need to mention anything else.

  *

  By afternoon, when Jennie reached the practice field, a layer of dark gray clouds hung so low that she felt like she could reach up and touch them. She hoped Ranger practice wouldn’t get cancelled on account of a storm. But the air was still hot and oppressive as they did the preliminary stretches. The rainy season had come, but summer still tried to hang on.

  They broke ranks to divide up into pairs for the deeper stretches. Jennie turned toward Meredith, to find her already partnered with Brisa. Jennie’s nerves flared hot and cold when Indra stepped up expectantly.

  She let her breath out, trying to be casual. Until the mission to Gold Point she had tried to avoid him. While traveling, she’d gotten used to being around Indra again, but she still got that punch in the heart when she saw him. Why? Feelings were supposed to go away after a breakup.

  She sat down and held out her hands. His long fingers closed around hers, just like the old days. They seesawed back and forth in silence.

  Jennie lay back until her head touched the ground, enjoying the stretch and the heat of his hands. His natural temperature was fever-hot. Even several feet apart, he warmed her like a fire.

  “Ready?” Indra asked.

  “Sure,” Jennie replied.

  He slowly pulled her up as he fell backward. Jennie tried not to think about how different Ross’s hands were from Indra’s, bony but strong. Since he couldn’t grip with his left, she held his wrist, and felt his pulse beating under her fingers . . .

  She raised her eyes past Indra to the handful of onlookers. Kerry was there, with Mia. As Jennie leaned forward, the last thing she saw was Kerry’s sharp-featured face watching her.

  “All right!” Julio called through his bullhorn. “On your feet—”

  His words were drowned as a bluish flicker was followed by a boom of thunder.

  A shock of cold rain instantly drenched Jennie. Henry, Tommy, and Brisa looked around, clearly expecting to be dismissed. Most of the onlookers took off. Mia gestured toward the path, but Kerry shook her head.

  Julio let out a howl of laughter. “Great weather for the obstacle course,” he roared through the horn. “It’ll be good and slippery!”

  Lightning flared, and the thunder drowned out his voice. The Rangers trotted over with practiced ease, followed more slowly by unhappy candidates. Mud squished under Jennie’s feet. The air smelled like rain and mud and the burned electrical smell that came with lightning.

  Indra nudged Jennie. “Relax. You’re so tense. You could do this blindfolded.”

  He was right. Her muscles had all locked up. She made them relax, but she could feel her heart pounding. Strange. They hadn’t even started moving yet.

  Julio made swooping gestures as thunder rolled above. Too late, Jennie saw that he was pairing them up. They began counting off, and Jennie was stuck: she was one and Indra was two.

  Julio shouted, “We’ll warm up with a carry! Twos lie down! Ones, carry your partner.”

  Indra dropped obediently at Jennie’s feet. She froze. The rain, the lightning, the mud, Indra lying at her feet—it was just like the battle. She couldn’t possibly do this drill with him. She might . . . cry, or scream, or something.

  Jennie’s jaw clenched. She’d never asked to switch partners for any reason . . . and she couldn’t possibly explain why . . . but she couldn’t do this exercise with Indra.

  The rain turned to hail. It struck the mud with a clatter. All around her, people were lifting their partners.

  Without giving herself a chance to think twice, she grabbed at Julio’s sleeve. “I want to switch partners.”

  “What? Why?” Lightning flared again, revealing his black hair hanging in his eyes, emphasizing his amazement.

  “I might hurt Indra. He’s still recovering from the battle.” Jennie hated the lie. She hated herself for lying. But she couldn’t even look at Indra, still lying there on the ground. She didn’t want to imagine what he might be thinking.

  Julio shrugged and motioned to the pair beside her. “Okay. Switch. Tommy, don’t drop him.” She grimaced at his sarcasm, but mostly she was relieved.

  For one heartbeat.

  As Tommy Horst bent to pick up Indra, Jennie turned to Paco, who lay on the ground, waiting. Lightning flashed, exaggerating the sharp lines of his face. Sera’s face, when she lay dead on the ground.

  Voske’s face, when he stood there surrounded by torches, grinning. Jennie knelt beside Paco. She was being ridiculous. This was just an exercise. Paco was Paco.

  She gripped his wrist and yanked. He cooperatively leaned up so she could sling him over her shoulders. She started to stand. He was heavy across her shoulders. Too heavy. She’d never be able to lift him. The fire from the burning trees illuminated the battlefield. The arrows and spent bullets clattered around her. Indra’s blood ran down the back of her shirt. His skin was cold as ice. He’d die if she left him there, but she couldn’t lift him. She couldn’t lift him. She couldn’t lift him . . .

  “Jennie!” Someone was shaking her.

  Jennie looked around wildly. She was on the Ranger practice field. Everyone was standing in a circle around her, including Paco. They were all staring. Julio had his hands on her shoulders. He was shaking her. What had happened? What had she done?

  Indra pulled Julio away and took his place. “Jennie? What’s wrong?” He cupped his hands around her face.

  His hands were hot. Alive.

  A huge sob burst from her chest. Burning tears ran down her face. She broke away from Indra and ran.

  Chapter Thirty. Ruined City Outside Gold Point.

  Ross

  Ross knew where he was the instant he w
oke up: outside the ruined city. He heard the sounds of the rousing camp, but he kept his eyes shut, reviewing his plan.

  Voske was bound to send him in with a guard, probably Santiago. Ross would refuse to go until Voske leveled a gun at his head, then reluctantly agree to take Santiago into the ruined city. Inside, he’d offer Santiago a choice: he could accompany Ross to Las Anclas, to be with Kerry and even live there if he wanted, or Ross would walk him through to the other side and let him run back to Voske the long way. Ross was sure he could get well away before Santiago could reach Voske to report.

  Ross had fought Santiago before, and knew he was better. If he had to, he’d knock Santiago out and drag him through the crystal trees. Voske probably had guards stationed in the rough country on the other side of the ruined city, but Ross could evade them.

  “Rise and shine, boys.” Voske’s voice was nearby.

  Sure enough, Santiago was fitted out with a leather jacket and a rifle. Ross could have told him that a pistol was better for prospecting, given the narrow spaces you had to worm through. He didn’t comment.

  Santiago caught Ross’s gaze. Before Ross could look away, Santiago gave him a nervous smile and offered him three buns wrapped in a checkered bandana.

  “Do you celebrate Day of the Dead in Las Anclas?” Before Ross could reply, Santiago went on, “I have sugar skulls, too, but we can save those for later. My siblings baked these. Maria-Delia loves molding little corpses with their arms crossed.”

  Santiago pushed the bread at him. The buns smelled like anise and orange peel. Ross took one and bit off the head. Santiago’s fixed grin reminded Ross suddenly of a death’s head. The wad of bread stuck in his throat.

  “Time for breakfast.”

  Ross and Santiago jumped. Voske gestured at the cook tent, where pancakes and fresh eggs were being dished out. Ross stuffed the rest of the bun into his mouth. He was determined to eat as much as he could, no matter what Voske did or said. He’d need the energy.

  He let the cook heap his plate, then sat on a rock. Santiago sat beside him, while Voske leaned against a boulder nearby. Ross ignored them both and dug in. The food was delicious. Maybe it tasted better because he knew he’d be free soon.