"They were here a little bit ago. We have to move faster if you want to catch them, Keller. I can take your bag for you." He wrote it quickly, jaggedly, in big enough letters to see in the dark with the little ray Keller had.
Keller just nodded and handed him his bag.
Thankfully, it was light enough. They walked for most of the night and slept just until the first sun spilled in wide streams through the branches. Drake made a small, quick-burning fire and warmed up the tea he saved from yesterday, just enough to wake Keller up to walk. He collected more than enough poisonous mushrooms by now to kill Keller twice over. They were drying in clumps in the pocket of his backpack. He could smell them drying when he put the bag under his head at night, an earthy, humid smell.
Keller saw them first and reached for his comm, smiling for the first time in days. He wondered what sort of reward Hassinger promised him.
"Dana, I got them. No, that's not what I mean. They’re just a bit in front of us, so we'll have them banded and on the way back in a few hours. Ten, twelve days, I don't know how fast they can walk…. It'll be recorded who we have if you send in the flier. Safer to walk." He hung up and crouched, watching the group at their fire.
All but Riley were sitting on the log watching the boy. He was telling them something Drake couldn't hear, but whatever it was seemed serious. He could see a bit of Ella's concerned face through the flames when Riley wasn't pacing in front of her. He wanted to run out there and throw his arms around her, and the kids and hug them all. And you will, he told himself, soon enough. He had to deal with Keller first.
"They’re going to sleep here tonight, Keller. Easier to grab them when they do, no? They took guns, I'm sure of it. Too risky to do it now. They’re not going anywhere till morning." He shoved the pad at Keller and watched him read it. His lips moved when he read. Strange, that. He didn't think they hired complete morons as guards.
"Okay, mute. You watch. I'll sleep for a few. Then maybe, if you’re nice, I'll let you sleep some." He walked away slowly, carefully, far enough away from the fire.
Drake watched him spread his blanket and the man seemed to be asleep as soon as he closed his eyes, snoring in that loud way he had.
He took out his mushrooms, selected a small, almost dried piece, ground it in his fingers, and dropped it into the thermos of still-warm tea. Keller drank warm tea in big gulps, not sips, so this would be enough to get him sick first, not dead, and he shouldn't taste it, smoking that awful stuff he smoked all the time. He probably couldn't taste most things. Drake waited, time moving far too slowly through this night, his last one as a dumb mute.
There was just enough of a breeze for him to smell the fire when he faced that way. He had always loved that smell, but tonight, it tore at him a little, made him ache for Ella and the kids, made time move even more slowly. He turned away and watched his enemy's chest rise and fall, waiting for that last bit of courage he'd need to do this. He thought of Brent, the big bully with an ugly face, and wondered if he was like Keller now, still picking on people he thought were weaker than him, or if by some miracle he turned into something more decent than that. He didn't think people changed all that much, never saw anybody change that much, and he knew for sure then that Keller was like Brent in that way, no matter that they didn't grow up the same. Inside of this snoring ugly man was an ugly kid, and his name was Brent...
Drake took a spare shirt out of his bag and cut a wide strip off the bottom with a tiny scalpel-sharp knife he’d hidden inside his belt. He picked up the thermos and walked over to where Keller was snoring on his back, head on top of his backpack. His hand was wrapped around the stun gun, but he could tell that he turned the thing off, likely was too afraid to accidentally shoot himself in his sleep.
Drake crouched next to his face and put the tip of the knife to his neck just under the chin, not yet touching the skin. "Wake up, asshole. Shift change. And don't you dare make a sound." He pressed the knife down enough to let Keller know what he was holding, enough to draw a small trickle of blood.
Keller’s eyes flew open, focusing on his face, wide awake. His hand squeezed around the handle of the gun, and Drake put a bit more pressure on the knife, Keller's hand letting go.
"This belongs to me now," Drake said quietly, reached over with his left hand, and grabbed the gun, flicking the safety off, the unmistakable buzz of a full charge overpowering the noise of the bugs. "Get up, asshole, slowly, if you want your ugly head to stay on your neck, and walk over to that tree." He pointed to the trunk of a youngish oak.
Gun buzzing into his back, Keller walked, his legs shaky.
Drake tied his hands behind him with skinny metal ties that he pulled out of Keller's back pocket. These would hurt if he so much as tried to make fists. He sat him down, slamming his back into the tree, and crouched in front of him, pointing the gun directly between his eyes, almost touching his face with the barrel. "Here? Or should I aim lower?" He traveled down his body to just below his belt-line, smiling broadly at him, enjoying this bit. He had played this all out in his mind so many times, he was surprised he still found this part funny. "So, asshole. Here is how this is going to go. You will do exactly what I tell you when I tell you or you die. Oh, and until I tell you to speak, you’re going to be playing the mute. Clear enough for you? Or should I write it down?"
Keller nodded. Little timid nods.
"Good. Here, drink this." He handed him the thermos.
Keller drank, looking up at his face, a question in his eyes that he was too scared to ask. It would take a few minutes for the poison to kick in, and his legs were hurting from crouching.
He poured some water onto the wadded-up strip of the shirt he'd cut earlier and jammed it in Keller's mouth. "Rest for a bit. I'll be back." He went through Keller's pockets and took the comm and his screens and left him.
The fire was almost gone. They must have gone to sleep. Drake wanted to walk over and check on them, make sure they were all safe; wanted desperately to see Ella up close. Almost there, Drake. Almost there. Keller was making strange noises behind him. Faster than he thought, that. He ran over and took the rag out of his mouth, and almost ended up with vomit all over his boots. Keller seemed to be throwing up everything he'd ever eaten. He looked mortified. His legs were covered in puke now, and he still kept going.
Drake poured a full thermos of water over his head, and waited, watching him dry heave when he had nothing left to throw up anymore. The man had tears running down his ugly face in streams. He wondered if there was something wrong with him that he didn't feel the least bit bad about watching a grown man cry like that. Finally, it seemed to be over.
He threw a full thermos of water on Keller's pants to wash the puke off enough to where it didn't make him want to throw up and crouched at a safe distance from the puddle, the gun aimed at Keller's temple. He cut the ties on his hands and waited for him to get some blood to his fingers, just enough to be able to use them for a bit, and then handed him the comm.
"I need you to get to Hassinger and tell her we got the girls, but we just picked up soldiers' chatter nearby, and it would be safer to switch to text. That any voice comms would be dangerous. That's it. Anything else and I pull the trigger."
"Can I please have some water first?" A plea, and so sheepish from such a big man. There was fear in his eyes, in his voice.
Drake felt not a little disgusted by him. After a few sips, Keller made the call. Drake was close enough to hear Hassinger's voice agreeing to the switch, and the almost gentle "Be careful" at the end.
He took the comm back and tied Keller’s hands behind him again with a new set of biters––that's what the guards called these for the uncanny pain they caused when biting into the skin. "I need to know where my tag is and how to disable it. You can speak now," he spat at him, gun pointing between his eyes.
Keller looked at his face for a long while, and shook his head, touching the barrel of the gun. "I can't help you with the tag, Drake. I'm sorry, but I don't
know how to. I never tagged anybody. They don't let us near the mute girls. They would know, the mutes would, the ones who have the tags, or Hassinger." He was looking down, probably waiting for him to pull the trigger. Unless he was a complete idiot, he'd know that Drake had no more use for him. The tag bit was it.
So there was no way for him to remove the tag. Text comms would buy him about a week at the most. A week it was then. Enough time to make sure the kids were safe. Enough time to tell Ella all the things he needed to tell her. Enough time to say his goodbyes. He could live with that.
"Go ahead. Pull the trigger. I know you aren't letting me go anywhere. It's all right. I wish you'd told me you weren't a dumb mute before. I may have had enough time to learn to like you."
He let him talk. It didn't matter if he talked, but it seemed right to let him.
"You know, I really did think of all of you in that way. Dumb as engineered hogs, but not nearly as useful. It's how it's always been for us with your kind. I'm not saying I'm not an asshole for it. I’m just surprised, is all. You knew the kid, didn't you? The Zoriner kid Dana wanted?"
Drake nodded. It didn't matter to hide it now.
"I thought you were so dumb you were asleep, but you were trying to save him. How the hell did you end up a slave anyway? It never made sense to any of us. What did you do to them? Piss off the Council? It doesn't matter... Do what you have to do," the man said in a strange voice and put his head down again, looking at the waterlogged leaves around his outstretched legs.
"I let them take me so they would let someone else go, Keller. Someone I've loved since I was a little kid. I went to the Council and made a deal with them. They even gave me this real pretty screen with the sealed promise to let her go if I let them take me, all official-like. Only they didn't let her go. The kid you thought was a rapist ... the kid is her brother. He went in looking for her. And when you left the room that night, Hassinger whipped him until he was barely alive. The kid, Riley, he'd lost everybody before, everybody but Ella. I thought I could get her back. Your people lie, Keller. That's who they are." He shut up, not sure why he told him all of this, why he felt he should know any of it.
Keller was shaking his head. "Go ahead, Drake. Pull the damn trigger." He looked up at him when he said it, looking more sad than afraid.
Drake was hiding a large piece of the half-dried mushroom in his fist. He opened it and knew Keller saw it and knew what it was. He planned on shoving it down his throat after stunning him just enough to where he couldn't throw it up, but it didn't seem right to do it this way now.
He stood him up against the tree, and looked at his face, reading it the way he would someone he knew. Keller didn't look away from him this time. The fear was still there, and the understanding that he would die, but something else, too, something he didn't expect to see there, defiance maybe or courage even, and shame.
Drake snipped the tie at his hands. He'd need them untied for this to look like an accident.
Keller seemed to know his plan. He nodded to him and reached for the mushroom. "Can I have one of my smokesticks first? I always imagined that I'd smoke one before I die. Don't know why, but I did. I know you don't owe me that," he said softly, sadly almost, and then shook his head, reaching for the mushroom again, "it's all right, Drake. I understand. I probably wouldn't let you smoke before I killed you. That's honest." He was still shaking his head, slowly, the way Drake used to as a kid when Brent and his friends taunted him, and he didn't want to see him like this, to see the shame in his face.
He reached into the sleeve pocket of Keller's shirt, took out two smokesticks, and lit them both. He coughed at the unexpected harshness of it and handed one to Keller. He stood next to him as they smoked in silence and at the end of it when Keller dropped his spent smokestick on the ground, he could see in his eyes that he wouldn't need the gun for this. He switched it off and put the mushroom in Keller's hand. "This won't be like the last time. This will be quick." He wanted to turn away from him then, give him some privacy, but didn't get a chance to, as he watched him swallow the poison as soon as it hit his hand.
Keller slid down the tree, looked up at him and nodded, and then closed his eyes and didn't open them again.
Drake sat next to him, watching him for a long time, his face looking as if he were asleep, and suddenly much too young, much younger than a dead face should look. And when he was finally done with the watching, he moved Keller's backpack to the side of the tree and laid his head on it, put his gun under his right hand, the way Keller always did when he slept, and pulled the blanket over him, covering him from the bugs, and from the cold that was outside, and the cold that was already in him.
Covering him from looking so young and so entirely unlike how he'd always looked to him. Covering him from himself.
18
The Edge
Riley, April 26, 2236, Outside of Reston
Riley woke up to the sound of a crackling fire and clanking of dishes. He reached for his gun, and flicked the safety off, sitting up and aiming at the large shape looming over the flames. The shape un-blurred into Drake. He ran over disregarding the need to pee and hugged him so hard he could barely breathe.
"Drake, you bloody giant, you scared the shit out of me. I have to pee. I can't even tell you how great it is to see you. Ella will be thrilled!"
He really did have to pee, so he raced toward the stream so he could wash as well as take care of other needs, thinking of all things Drake. None of them really knew what Hassinger would do to him when they found the girls and Ella missing, being a gate guard and all. They didn't mention him once, too afraid to think about it. But he was indeed somehow alive, and here. It was the best kind of thing to happen, and just when they were about to go into this maybe-dead city.
Everyone was up and making an awful lot of noise when he got back to the fire. Happy noise. It made him want to giggle seeing everyone so happy, even Laurel. Especially Laurel. He felt bad for what he said to her last night, but she did need to hear it. Maybe not the anger in it, and that he regretted. He had a feeling she liked him less and less the closer he was with Ams, and it bothered him. He didn't want her resentment, didn't know what to do with it, but he did feel oddly guilty for how alone and sad she seemed. Not at all the defiant little girl who wouldn't shut up about all sorts of useless things when he first met her. He smiled at that memory.
Drake was serving tea, and his own mug smelled of sage. He even missed that smell that he never liked before. It was Drake's smell now and he'd probably always miss it when he wasn't around the giant. Strange how that worked. He thought briefly if Ams' and Laurel's brains did that too. Of course, they do, you bloody moron. Of course, they do.
He walked over to where Ams was standing and grabbed his mug. Ella wasn't drinking hers, just sitting on the log by herself, staring at Drake as if he were a ghost. Something was bothering her about this, about Drake being here. Finally, everyone quieted down enough for Drake to tell them what happened with Hassinger and the days of trekking through the woods with Keller, of all people, Keller whom he hated so much, but then at the end, didn't anymore. He told them what he did to him and there was so much sadness in his voice, nobody said anything. He didn't think he'd have been as decent to Keller if it were him and not Drake who had to do it.
He was pretty sure he would have at the very least beat the shit out of him first, maybe smash his teeth in, break a few ribs, let him know what it felt like to be beaten like that and not be able to defend yourself, and thinking this made him glad it was Drake who killed him; that he didn't leave that to him. He knew what Drake saved him from, and he was grateful for that.
Ella walked right up to Drake then and shoved her pad at him. Riley couldn't tell what was on it, but he saw all the joy go out of Drake's eyes, as he looked at her, shaking his head.
"He didn't know about the tag, Ella, about how to get to it, so it's still in me somewhere, only I was asleep when they did it so I wouldn't know where to begin looking
for it, or even what it is I'd be looking for. He honestly didn't know. I'm sorry. I have Hassinger on texts, so this buys us a week before she feels the need to track me. I’m okay with it, El...." Drake looked away from her at that, down at the fire, as if embarrassed by this thing that was clearly not his fault.
A week was a long time, long enough for them to find some way of getting that damn tag out of him.
"We'll find it, Drake. We'll find the tag, I promise. There is no way we’re letting them take you back," Riley said cheerfully, and he hoped he sounded as certain as he wanted to feel.
Drake just nodded, walked over to where Ella sat on that log, and crouched in front of her.
They needed to give him some time with her, could feel it in Drake way he was looking at her face, so he ran over to Ams and called for Laurel to join them and walked them over to where Drake said Keller was. He didn't know why he chose to go there. He wanted to see the sadistic guard dead. Something in him wanted to, needed to see him dead. And maybe he could show Laurel what a dead body looked like, so she’d start getting used to it. He had a feeling whatever they’d see in the city would be a lot worse than just dead bodies, and he dreaded it as much as the girls did.
He saw the body slumped next to the tree before the girls did. They were trailing a little behind him, chattering about Drake being back. He put his hand up for them to stop, slowly walked over to the covered corpse, and crouched in front of it. A few flies buzzed around it, and the body was definitely not moving. He reached over the head to pull the blanket off his face and stopped. Drake's words describing his last moments, how he smoked with him, the way he did it himself without Drake needing to force him, the way he seemed ashamed of how he was with the mutes ran through his head, and he couldn't do it. Couldn't pull the blanket off him; didn't want the satisfaction of seeing him dead anymore.
Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller Page 13