Hope of the Future

by Ariana Browning

  He checked Cayla’s room down the hall. No lights, which meant Cayla was still asleep. They were going to have a big day tomorrow so it was good for her to get some rest.

  The murmuring turned into choked sobs to his left, which hit him deep. If he didn’t wake Hope up, she would go into full panic. Hope didn’t need to suffer if she didn’t have to. Clenching his teeth, Ronin went into Hope’s room.

  Lines of fear were etched her features, which made her look menacing. Nothing like her normal self. Her legs were thrashing at an unseen force under the covers, kicking to get free, her hands pressing her foe away. Must be a bad one. Ronin was sure he would regret what he was about to do.

  He lowered down next to Hope and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving a light shake. “Hope, wake up.” Hope jerked away from his touch and whimpered. Ronin went to lean over to speak in her ear, but one of Hope’s feet kicked out and landed squarely in his ribs, knocking him from the bed with surprising force.

  “What the—” he bitched, climbing to his feet. A more aggressive approach was needed at this point.

  Ronin grabbed both of Hope’s wrists, then pinned them down with one hand. The moment he did, she went to scream. Instinctively his free hand clamped down over her mouth before he considered it a bad idea. Hope’s eyes flew open, filled with intense fear. She bucked against his hold, stuck in the nightmare.

  “Calm down,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. He looked at the door. “You’re going to wake Cayla. Do you want to?”

  Hope’s vision cleared and she inhaled against his palm when she focused on him. Ronin relaxed and went to remove his hand, thinking she finally calmed. Hope bit down on the meat of his palm and got a knee between them to gain a foothold.

  She sent Ronin sprawling back off her and to the ground all over again. It wasn’t a huge fall considering the mattress was lying on the floor, but the force of her kick hurt. Again.

  Ronin sat up. “What the hell was that for?” He dusted himself off.

  Hope maneuvered into a sitting position, watching him stand back up. She shrugged, “Reflex. Don’t hold me down.”

  Ronin glanced at the door, didn’t see any lights coming on from down the hall. He was glad Cayla hadn’t woke with the ruckus. Glaring at Hope, Ronin asked, “You’d rather I let you kick and thrash, stuck inside that nightmare you were having?”

  Hope gave him another shrug and he wanted to ring her neck. He was on the verge of it. “I’ve always had them.”

  Ronin took a deep breath, slowly exhaling it, trying to relax. This woman needed every ounce of patience he had ever stored. And then some. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  A bit of a sparkle entered her eyes. “Not in my nature.”

  For the briefest of seconds he was taken aback before he shook it off. “You need to get your sleep. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  “Sounds like you’re sticking around. Goodie for me,” Hope muttered. “You still sound as though you don’t comprehend how dangerous this is. Are you sure you want to do this? Have you thought it through? You have no clue what you’re getting into.”

  Ronin walked over to the window. He watched the quiet streets beyond for a time. Streets that reeked of death in every shadow.

  Speaking to her over his shoulder, he said, “I’ve been through some crap myself. I know how it is. I’m not going to let you take this trip alone. I will protect you whether you want it or not.”

  Her anger pressed against his back. “You don’t.” She paused, thought it through, sighed then said, “There is only one way you will.”

  Hope probably hoped he would leave once he heard the story. He experienced some crazy shit in his time, she couldn’t tell him anything that would faze him. She had no idea who she dealt with if she believed that.

  Ronin didn’t bother to interrupt to tell her he had experienced Hell firsthand. That it would take much more than any story to make him leave. He had a strong feeling this would be the one time she would ever tell her tale so he remained quiet and listened.

  Not expecting to have her story change him as much as it did, for the story to change his life.

  FOURTEEN

  THEY APPEARED LIKE REAPERS in the day.

  A group of men barged through the church’s front doors in a blur. There must have been more than ten, it was hard to tell, could have been twenty.

  Everyone inside the church froze, unsure of who the invaders were. The men were covered head-to-toe in black, their bulletproof vests and the guns they carried were black to match.

  The shadows came to life.

  The leader stopped inside the door and began shouting orders to his men. One-by-one they carried out his orders, telling him, “on it Gideon,” as they took positions at the only windows without boards like a structured unit. Others converged upon the people in the church and those who scattered the moment these strangers arrived.

  Gathering them.

  Imprisoning them.

  In the scuffle, Hope took off to the back room. One of the older women, Karen, was back there preparing some food. Hope wanted to make sure Karen was safe and all right. The moment Hope entered the back room, a man burst through the doorway behind her, carrying a gun with him.

  Karen screamed and panicked. She took off toward the back door that stood wide open, beckoning her to freedom. She thought. The man aimed his gun.

  Hope slammed into the side of him, but he avoided a total collision and the gun discharged. Karen fell through the open door, her feet splayed, unmoving, blood soaking the doorway in red. The man didn’t take a chance with Hope. He whirled on her and bashed his gun against the back of her neck before she could take off, crippling her.

  Fellow church inhabitants huddled around her on the church alter. Tenderly touching the cloth to where the gun hit her, trying to clean the wound, she winced. Her back throbbed, her shoulders protested every move.

  On the right-hand side of the altar, a doorway led off toward the back of the church. Beyond that were a few rooms where the church had once held an active office, janitor’s closet—now a small bare room with a tiny window at the top for air circulation and light—and long since abandoned bathrooms, long ago broken into disrepair.

  Most of the pews had long since disappeared inside the church throughout the years because of Rioters. The church suffered the same fate as many of the buildings in the area. No longer a place of worship, the building had become a shell of what it once was.

  Most of the custom made mosaic windows had been destroyed and boarded over. A few pews remained and stood in one piece, the others became kindling for fires, or used for putting beds together. Beds for the same people who surrounded Hope right now.

  The altar where Hope sat no longer had any organ, no podium, nothing. The place was no longer beautiful. Dirt and debris littered the floor, as well as broken glass and wood.

  The men had formed small groups at different places around the main floor. Hope’s group filled a small corner of the altar. The small community they built had turned into a prison camp.

  Jake, now a very old man whom she cared for, lay on the ground nearby. He’d reached over one hundred years thanks to her, but he still looked like a man in his eighties. She slid over to Jake to make sure he was okay, grateful to find him asleep. He didn’t look any worse for the wear so she left him alone. Better that he slept. He rarely slept well now; she didn’t intend to wake him.

  There was a five-man group sitting near the leader. They’d shouted his name when they entered, what was it? Gideon. Gideon sat on a small end table, near the front of the church, and was busy polishing a weapon. The group of invaders were near the front of the church. When her gaze moved to his face, Gideon had a steady eye on her. Her breath hitched.

  Hope dropped her gaze before traveling it around the room once more. More groups of men sat in other parts of the church, spread out. Perfect for ambushing any prisoners who tried to run. There was no escape.
>
  Hope was unable to free herself from the weight of that strong gaze. Gideon polished his gun, yet wouldn’t stop watching her. Out of all of them there, why her?

  His stare was like death waiting to grab hold. His eyes appeared dark from where she sat. Was it possible to feel such malice from a man who sat all the way on the other side of the room? She hadn’t done a thing to him, so why would he be so angry with her? More important, who was he?

  Hope hated that the strangers broke into her and the church group’s small refuge, thinking they had any right to take over. She didn’t care that they all had guns, she never had any use for guns, and with most being ID’d to their user now, it was a risk to try for one. When she went for her knife at her back, she acted as if she was scratching an itch.

  To find that her weapon was gone.

  They took her knife, which would explain the leader’s animosity. Gideon gathered he couldn’t trust her. Hope rose to her feet, being careful not to shove Jake around.

  If this leader continued to watch her with those snake eyes, she would speak to him. Nobody else would, they were all too afraid.

  Gideon went back to cleaning his gun, acting oblivious to her approach. Hope kicked aside the trash by her feet and stormed straight up to him. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  In a slow and deliberate movement, he set his gun aside, then acknowledged her. “Excuse me?” his smooth as silk voice questioned, giving her the opportunity to run, as though not used to anyone having the nerve to come up to him. Nor used to anyone like her being so straightforward.

  Anger boiled inside Hope, but she forced herself to stay somewhat calm and not explode. It’d been so long since those days. She wanted to be human like everyone else.

  “You heard me. What do you and your little friends think you are doing here? This isn’t your church. Yet you barge in here and take over like it is?” She chanced a glance at Jake to make sure she hadn’t woke him.

  Gideon stood up and took one step, closing what little distance remained. He forced Hope to take a step back or press against him. Power move. He towered above her by a good foot or so. Her heart skipped a beat. The muscle in his forehead strained and the muscle in his jaw worked a rhythm of anger. Hope forced herself to hold her ground.

  He was Amaranthine, but if not mistaken, he seemed far more advanced than one. Different. His aura was powerful, like a Guard of Darrok, but if he were, he wouldn’t be here. No Guard had ever left Darrok’s side, yet this man’s aura caused fear to pool like a lump inside her stomach.

  There was a chance Gideon was an Amaranthine Rogue. Though they didn’t lead packs. Rogues preferred solitude. It didn’t make sense to her, but few had ever instilled fear into her. Not like this one. Not in this way.

  She held his gaze, refusing to waver when he spoke. “It would be a good idea . . . for you to sit back down.” The edge in Gideon’s tone matched a sword that cut her through and through. A wave of disgrace swept over her and she wanted to shrink into the floor.

  Hope was aghast. Who did he think he was that he could tell her what to do, and she’d do it without question? He may sense her fear, but she sure as hell wasn’t handing it to him on a silver platter.

  “Not until you explain why you are here.” Hope crossed her arms, wanting to hide her trembling hands. Portraying an act of cool, she added, “This is our home, not yours.”

  Noticing her voice rose with her level of irritation, she glanced behind her at Jake again. Still asleep. Thankfully. The group at the altar looked downright petrified.

  When she turned back to the leader, she had a moment where she wished she hadn’t been so hateful. Her stomach flip-flopped.

  “I thought I made myself clear,” Gideon said with a deep sigh meant to dissolve her into panic.

  Hope went to object, but the moment he finished speaking, Gideon struck her so hard she fell with a thud. She put her hand to her cheek and glared up at him. Gideon knelt down beside her. The pain spread through her, making her cheeks bloom, more from anger than fear. He had no right to touch her. Nobody had any right to touch her.

  Nobody dared.

  His tone was as calm as before, but the smooth voice did little to hide the threat. “As I said before. Go back to the others. Now.” Gideon stood and pointed to the group behind them.

  Hope’s eyes rimmed with tears. A man from her group stood. Norman held his position, but didn't come forth.

  “On it.” Two of Gideon’s men moved forward with guns trained on Norman without a word from Gideon. Norman didn’t like his odds and sank back to the floor. The two armed men lowered their guns, but stayed their position in case any of the others tried to be brave. Doubtful.

  Against everything inside telling her not to, Hope shoved back to her feet and faced Gideon head-on. The slap of her palms against the floor echoed through the church like a warning beacon for everyone to take cover.

  She kept her voice even and straight out defied his order. “No.” Gideon’s pupils dilated enough to indicate his surprise and no more. “I asked you a question.”

  Gideon grinned, but the amusement didn’t touch his eyes. “You have nerve, don’t you kid?”

  Hope cringed at the word. “That’s not an answer. What are you doing here?” She refused to allow him to get to her. Kid? He had no clue how old she was.

  Before she finished, Gideon seized her arm in a vice grip, then dragged her into the back of the church. When they passed the group, her would-be protector, Norman, stood once more, but the two armed guards converged.

  The armed men ordered Norman back down. When he refused, one of them smashed a rifle into Norman’s nose. Norman fell back into the group. People gasped and screamed as they scooted further away as if he was diseased.

  Gideon led Hope to the small janitorial closet—now prisoner’s unit—and threw her inside the room. Only a small ray of light shone through the tiny window near the top of the wall, further imprisoning her.

  Hope tried to use her arms to block her face from bashing into the concrete as she fell, but her body wasn’t as lucky. Her hip and knees struck the ground, pain burst through her side.

  She rolled over to face Gideon, her palms protesting the move. Gideon towered above her. Her breathing played catch me if you can, sure that Gideon would kill her.

  “Why do you work so hard to defy me when everyone else gathered they should obey? That my orders are to be taken seriously? Is there something wrong with you?” His gaze swept over her as though she had a mental disability. Her blood boiled.

  “I don’t know,” Hope hissed. “You seem to have problems answering questions. Are you impotent?”

  A speck of red flared in Gideon’s cheeks and she struck a nerve. Good. A silent short-lived victory. Gideon stepped forward and struck her before she could protect herself. His speed was incredible. She would have to pay better attention to this man . . . no, being.

  The iron flavored taste of her own blood filled her mouth. Hope slid her tongue along the corner of her mouth, then spat the sickly liquid to the side.

  Gideon knelt down in front of her to grab her chin, but she dodged it, which fueled his anger. He took hold of her legs and scraped her along the floor toward him, tangling his hands in her hair and jerked her head.

  He glanced at the cut on her lip. “What has that to do with you? You must be stupid. Nobody else in this entire church would dare say a thing like that to my face. Yet here you are. Maybe if I punch you long enough, you’ll figure it out.”

  The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. “Would it make you feel like more of a man? Beating up a woman? Won’t work.”

  Gideon’s grip grew tight, she was sure he pulled the hair from her scalp. “Answer my question,” he demanded, putting his face in hers, black eyes alive with hate.

  Hope dropped her gaze to his mouth over continuing to stare at the hatred she saw. “Only when you answer mine.”

  He tried to raise her face so she would look at h
im, but Hope refused. “Look at me.” Taking her precious time, she finally relented and did as told. For a moment, Gideon stared at her, then she noticed the spark of hunger sweeping through him, serving to fuel his anger. “Why continue to fight when you know you’ll lose? Perhaps you’re insane.”

  Hope studied him for a moment, trying to read him. There was a block there she couldn’t get past. “Who says I will?”

  “A question with a question? I hope you don’t believe you’re more intelligent than I am.”

  She spoke through clenched teeth against his grip on her chin. “Do you believe you’re better than me? Why? Because you think I’m a kid? Maybe it’s because you’re trying to convince yourself I’m crazy or stupid. In your mind, I’m trying to outsmart you. In mine, I’m wondering why it’s so hard for a grown man to answer my damn question.”

  Gideon smiled. Hope was taken aback. It looked genuine and lit up the cold interiors of his soul. As fast as it appeared, it disappeared, replaced once more with anger. Dropping his hand from her hair, he stood back up.

  Hope remained where she was, knowing better than to push her luck, disgusting and ugly creature. The last thing she wanted was to get a bullet in her head. She wanted to defy, not die.

  Gideon leaned against the doorframe as if they were two friends hanging out. “Do you know what I find interesting? You think I need to tell you why I’m here. Okay, you want to know why we’re here? Because I walked in and took over. That’s why.”

  Shoving to her feet, Hope snapped, “Now who’s a child?”

  “Would you like me to hit you again?” he asked, in his obnoxious casual tone.

  “Maybe I enjoy pain. Ever consider that?” she smirked.

  Gideon closed the distance, snatched her by the hair, and forced her head back all over again. Not in the least helpful to the wound on the back of her neck. “I can make it painful. My pleasure follows plenty of pain if you’d care to find out.”

  Hope’s hand flew up to his to release his hold on her hair. Gideon tugged her hair and caused her to cry out. “Let go of me, you piece of filth.”