The Trial (The Tree House)

by Shay Lynam

  “What about this one?”

  “Just wipe them all.”

  Please no.

  More faces. Jack. Gone. Anna. Gone. Ryan. Gone. Aly. Gone. On and on it goes and I can’t stop it. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can’t fight.

  I can’t.

  I can’t.

  I can’t remember.

  Chapter seven

  My eyes shoot open. What happened? Where am I? What’s going on? My heart is hammering so hard, it feels like an animal is trying to break through my ribcage with every beat. As I try to slow my heart and breathing, my eyes scan the unfamiliar room. Everything is clean and white and chrome. The sound of blood pulsing in my ears fades and I’m able to hear the soft, constant beeps of the monitors on either side of me.

  Trying to sit up, a sharp pain rips through my abdomen making me yell and throw my hands out. They’re stopped in midair by tubes and wires stretched taught and attached to me with needles and staples. I can't lift anything higher than a few inches off the table without being stopped by some restraint. I lay there for a moment as panic washes over me.

  “Hello?” I finally yell, my voice coming out raspy and shrill.

  “Ben?”

  I jerk my head around erratically trying to find the source of the voice. Who said my name? Who’s in here with me?

  “Ben, just stay calm.”

  My eyes fall on an intercom in the wall. “Hello?” I yell again. “Is someone there?”

  The door opens to my left and I try to sit up again only to be stopped by the staples. A man in white rushes in and pulls the mask off his face. “It’s okay, Ben,” he says in a soothing voice and puts his hands on my shoulders.

  Being able to put a face to the voice and feeling the touch of another person is enough to calm me down a bit and I let him push me back against the table. “What’s going on?” I choke.

  “Ben, you were hurt. You lost a lot of blood but you’re okay now. You’re safe now.” The man’s eyes are kind and I feel myself relaxing more as he explains these things to me. “Do you remember anything?” he asks.

  My brow furrows as I try to dig through my foggy memory. Nothing comes to mind – other than the memory of feeling very cold and a face. My brother’s face. “Jack,” I whisper.

  “Anything else?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as I force myself to dig deeper. There has to be something else. Slowly an image comes to mind. The tip of a shiny black gun and a shaky hand pointing it directly at me. The breath is sucked out of my lungs as the image floats to the surface. “He shot me,” I gasp. “My brother shot me.”

  The man in white purses his lips together and his eyes are filled with sympathy. “Ben, look at me,” he says and I shift my eyes up so I’m looking at him. “You’re okay now. We’re working on fixing this, alright?”

  “How?” I can feel the panic rising up in me again. “How can you fix this? My brother tried to…” My voice cracks and I feel my eyes begin to burn with tears. “My own brother.”

  “Yes, I know,” he says sadly.

  “I could have died.” The tears spill over and down my cheeks.

  “But you didn’t, Ben. I made sure of that.” His eyes shift to the side of my head and I bring my hand up to touch it.

  My fingers graze the shaved skin above my ear and I feel a raised bumpy line. “What did you do?” I ask, the words coming out as just a whisper.

  “We’ve inserted a chip into your brain. It’ll make you stronger, faster and little more durable,” he explains. I’m sure he expects me to respond but I don’t know what to say. This is all too much to comprehend. “We saved your life.”

  “Who are you?” I finally choke out.

  The man smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “My name is Eli Scott,” he says putting a hand on my shoulder again. “Everything is going to be alright, Benny Boy.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost: thank you, God, for everything you have blessed me with.

  To my beta-readers, Chrissy Shelton and Nic Portwood for helping me to make this book the best it could be.

  Also an extra special thanks to beta-reader Nic Portwood and my friend Daniel Robins for being readily available to chat on Facebook whenever I got stuck, which was quite often.

  Finally, a huge thank you to my wonderful husband, Mike, who supported me wholeheartedly every step of the way. I wouldn't be the person I am today without him.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Shay Lynam works as a freelance videographer and author. She lives with her husband, Mike, and puggle, Lucy and spends her free time writing. You can visit her on facebook at www.facebook.com/thetreehousebook or on Twitter (@shay_lynam)

  THE trial PLAYLISTs

  Jack

  • The Red - Chevelle

  • All My Life – Foo Fighters

  • The Kill – 30 Seconds To Mars

  • Already Over – Red

  • Stacked – Erik Nordin

  • Silence – Blindside

  • Happiness – The Fray

  Ben

  • Time Is Running Out – Muse

  • Apparitions – Seabird

  • New Medicines – Dead Poetic

  • Already Over, Pt. 2 – Red

  • Gold Cloud – Erik Nordin

  • A Modern Myth – 30 Seconds To Mars

  • Everybody Wants To Rule The World – Lorde

  • Revelation – Dino Meneghin

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Book 3 in The Tree House Trilogy:

  The World We Live In

  Excerpt copyright © 2014 Shay Lynam

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter ONE

  Steady.

  It hadn’t taken long for even the tamest of the animal species to revert back to their primal instincts. The weak were killed off by the strong and the strong were killed off by the stronger. Now only the most resilient were left and let me tell you, there weren’t many. Even now watching this wild dog – that had probably looked like a pit bull at one time but now resembled a starved alien – as it picked through garbage in the overgrown grass, I had a hard time remembering the last time I had seen one. It had been even longer since I tasted one.

  Steady.

  A drip of water landed on my gloved hand making a sharp tick sound when it hit the leather, but I didn’t flinch. Even the tiniest movement would give me away and I’d be going another night without fresh meat. Another drip landed on my exposed cheek and I felt it slide slowly, burning down and soak into the cloth covering the lower half of my face.

  I hadn’t seen the sun in two years. Eli’s chips wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. Crouching there I was still surprised Seattle had survived – if you can call what it had become “surviving”. After the wars completely screwed up the climate, a gray, toxic haze covered the sky and hadn’t gone away ever since. When it wasn’t raining, it was snowing. Now the buildings that hadn’t completely deteriorated were overtaken with plant life. Ivy grew up the walls, clinging to whatever they could. Weeds grew up through the cracks in the crumbling concrete and devoured long abandoned cars and mailboxes and street signs. I was just glad it was raining now instead of snowing, though even the rain tended to burn a little bit when it hit the skin. Just acidic enough to sting but not enough to do any serious damage as long as you weren’t in it for too long. I could see deep pink lines trailing down the wild dog’s back from living its life out in the poisonous elements. It shuttered as the rain started coming down harder. I needed to move before it decided to run off and take shelter.

  Steady.

  My fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of one of my throwing knives and I breathed in the cold, bitter air deeply until my chest hurt. Then with a quick flick of my wrist, I hurled the knife forward and
the blade buried itself deep into the dog’s neck. It yelped once before falling to the ground dead. The air escaped my lungs and clouded in front of my face. Finally, I was going to go to sleep that night with a full belly instead of tossing and turning with hunger pains.

  I got up and stepped over the fallen concrete wall I had been crouched behind. The dog was completely still and the rain was pelting its pink, scarred skin now, each drop making a tiny sizzle as it hit. I needed to get this thing out of the rain before it became inedible. Quickly, I shrugged off one of my coats and wrapped it around the dead dog tying the sleeves together so I could use them to drag my catch back home.

  I turned the corner, my eyes scanning the street for any danger. These days it was everywhere. Wild dogs like the one tied up in my coat liked to hide in dark alleys and under cars and wait for something, anything, to come along. If you ever came across a pack of them, you were screwed. I did once and only made it out alive because of Ben and Jack.

  Halfway down the block, one of the sleeves slipped and the whole coat came unraveled sending the dead dog sprawling onto the road. Its black tongue flopped out of its mouth and made the thing look like it was rolling over to have its belly rubbed. With a sigh, I crouched down to wrap my catch back up.

  Just as I got balanced on the balls of my feet, a gust of wind made the sleeves of my coat flutter and the sound of rustling material came from behind me. In a split second I reached back pulling a knife out of a band on my shoulder and whirled around sending it flying. The blade buried itself to the hilt in the chest of a masked man. He made a choking noise before falling to the ground and I stayed frozen where I was listening for any other sounds that might be riding on the wind.

  Nothing but silence.

  As quietly as possible, I got up and hurried over to the body. The man was tall and wearing layers of dark, mud caked clothes. An animal skull, most likely a cow's, was fixed over his head and his wide eyes stared at me through the holes. I'd never seen a raider wear a mask like this. Usually they kept cloth over their faces just like everyone else. The skull was grotesque and bleached white from years in the wind and acid rain. Horns grew out of either side of the skull, long and menacing like the tips had been sharpened recently. Why couldn’t these people just keep to themselves like we did? I sighed in disgust and reached down to pull my knife out of his chest. It came out easily, tinted red with blood. With a quick swipe on the man's jacket, the blade was clean. Another gust of wind caught the edge of his coat and pulled it back revealing a black cord tied around his neck. My eyes grew wide as I lost my grip on the knife and it clattered to the ground. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the teeth that hung from the black string. Human teeth. This guy wasn’t a raider. He was a ravager. And according to Ben, ravagers didn’t travel alone.

  I needed to get out of there. Quickly, I bent down and picked up my knife. When I turned back toward the dog, four more tall men in skull masks blocked my path. It took all I had to hold their stares so they wouldn’t sense my fear. I couldn’t see their eyes so I focused on the dark eye sockets of the cows’ skulls. Every other part of me was covered. They couldn’t tell my mouth was trembling. They couldn’t tell I was a girl. I needed to keep it that way.

  “Take the dog and leave me alone,” I said trying to make my voice as low and steady as possible.

  “It’s not the dog we want,” one of them replied. I didn’t see any mouth moving but judging by the way one of the men in the middle stroked the collection of human teeth around his neck, I’m guessing he was the one talking.

  Out of the corner of my vision, I saw the man on the far right begin to step forward and I immediately hurled the knife I had in my hand. As soon as it hit the ravager in the shoulder, he went down and the other three sprang forward. I ripped two more knives from the holster under my arm and flicked them forward hard sending one of the ravagers crashing to the ground and the other stumbling while he tried to get the blade out of his arm. The one in the middle came at me pulling a big machete out of a sheath behind his back. As he came at me, I noticed something brown and crusted on the blade. It was either rust or blood but I’m guessing it was the latter. The ravager came at me fast slashing the machete sideways and I ducked to the left hearing the blade slice through the air.

  I started running, reaching under my arm to grab another knife. Empty. Crap. I should have had one more. There was one each in two of the ravagers; a third was buried in one of the dead ones on the ground. Where was my fourth knife? I cursed under my breath as my eyes darted back to the dead dog now being pelted with poison rain. I had totally forgotten to take the knife out of its neck.

  A hot pain sliced my arm and I stumbled, losing my footing, and tumbled to the ground. As I tried to get back up, the ravager with the machete towered over me holding his weapon above his head. It came crashing down and I rolled out of the way just before it bit into the concrete sending sparks in every direction. One quick glance at my arm told me another ravager had hurled one of my own knives at me. It had sliced into my skin pretty deep and now blood was soaking into my coat.

  A foot connected with my side knocking the air out of me for a second but I managed to grit my teeth, get up quickly and ram into the ravager with all the strength I had. His mask and machete went flying and clattered to the pavement a few yards away. The man doubled over from the blow to his stomach and I used that moment to ram my knee up into his exposed face. It connected with his nose and I heard a loud crunch just before he went crashing to the ground. Blood spattered my leg but I didn’t have time to react before another ravager was on me. He grabbed my arms from behind and I immediately threw my head back, connecting it with his throat causing him to loosen his grip on me. When I turned around to face the man, I noticed one of his arms stained red. Where was the other ravager I had gotten in the beginning? As if to answer my question, an arm wrapped around my neck from behind and pulled. My back hit a body and I began clawing at the arm, trying to get my nails into the skin. No luck. The ravager in front of me was holding his own throat with one hand and grabbed my face hard with the other. My teeth dug into my cheeks and I could taste blood.

  “Well, you’re a little firecracker,” he spat, his sour breath permeating the mask and making me gag. The arm around my neck tightened quickly, causing a sound to escape my throat. The ravager cocked his cow skull head to the side and I could feel my stomach churn violently. With one quick motion, he pulled my hood off and ripped the cloth off my face. “What do we have here?” he asked excitedly watching my long hair swirl around my head in the wind. He caught a strand and pulled his mask off so he could swipe the hair under his nose. The ravager’s face was disfigured, scarred from the rain, surely. I winced in disgust as he brushed my hair against his face. “We haven’t seen a pigeon in a long time. Eh, Cook?”

  “No we haven’t,” the one behind me breathed into my ear.

  I tried tilting my head away from him but his grip around my neck tightened. The one in front of me stepped closer and ran a jagged fingernail down my cheek. “You’ll be very useful, little bird” he whispered scraping his nail down my neck and along the zipper of my coat.

  I nudged his hand off me and spat hard, speckling his face with blood from my cut cheeks. The ravager behind me grabbed one of my arms and wrenched it hard behind my back and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. The man in front of me laughed as he wiped a speck of blood off his nose and licked his finger. “Let’s go,” he said and turned away from me.

  The ravager holding me lifted me off the ground with the arm around my neck, giving me no leverage to resist. I tried wiggling and kicking my legs but he only wrenched my arm further up my back. When I heard it pop, I began thrashing harder. Everything around me started to fade as my lungs fought for air. My body went limp and something exploded right in my ear. I didn’t even notice when the ravager loosened his grip on my neck and I went crashing to the ground.

  Slowly, my surroundings came back into focus. My cheek rested
on the wet pavement and the rain hitting my face felt like a million little pin pricks in my skin. A few gunshots cracked the air and I quickly lifted my hood, covering my face from the rain and my already sensitive ears from the noise. A loud laugh caused me to lift my head to see just what was going on.

  My vision was still blurry but I could just make out the horns of one of the ravagers’ masks and a flash of blond hair under a dark hood. The ravager went down with one slam in the face from an elbow. I turned my head the other direction to find a darker blur, completely in black, ramming a booted foot into another ravager’s stomach causing him to double over. The butt of a shotgun came down hard on his back sending him sprawling to the ground.

  Clickclick. Bang.

  A spray of blood erupted from the ravager’s head and he was still. I waited until only the celebratory laughs of the brothers filled the air and then I slowly got to my feet.

  “You fired a gun? Are you trying to get us all killed?” I asked, my voice rising with anger as I approached them.

  Ben smiled, his teeth gleaming. “Judging by the way you were handling yourself, you wanted to get killed. I taught you to fight better than that,” he replied pointing a smug finger at me.

  I batted it away. “If you hadn’t noticed,” I sneered. “There were four of them and one of me.”

  “Well, there was one of me and I still got the job done.”

  “You cheated,” I muttered watching as Ben twirled his hand gun around his finger.

  Jack nudged his brother hard causing him to almost drop the gun. “Who got the last shot in?” he asked glaring at Ben. Then Jack turned to me before Ben could give him an answer. His gloved hands cupped my face. “Are you alright?” Jack asked me as concern filled his green eyes.