by Aral Bereux
And then there was Julianna.
Laughter reached the tent, and then a splash. He looked toward the sound, his mind leaving the blonde for a moment to enjoy his camp playing in the new warm weather. It was the least he could do to ease his self-reproach. His followers had welcomed a sanctioned day off in the middle of battle. Spring had finally arrived, and it was time to give the kids a day off.
J Rae, Julianna… he sighed.
His brother pushed through the netting; it clung to his wet skin. Its grasp forced him to roll it back to its original position. Caden looked up in annoyance and slapped his neck. A spattering of blood sat between his fingers where he had flattened the bug to nothing.
‘Good morale boost.’ Bas sat heavily in the corner, toweling off his chest and shoulders from the swim over Caden’s bed. A bottle of whiskey sat open on the desk. Bas reached for it and its accompanying glass with the musty ring around the lip. He poured a third of a glass, and found the cap on the floor so he could close the bottle. ‘I haven’t mentioned the comms failure yet.’
‘No point sending them into blind panic.’ Caden eyed the wet patch on his blankets where his brother had been. Life was short in war, even for a watcher, so he let it go, thinning his lips instead.
He returned to the netting and loosened the ties holding it again. Another bug nipped at his arm and he slapped it away. The breeze moved through and Caden drifted with it as he watched his camp throw each other about in the river. The fire continued to burn and some were warming themselves, but most were enjoying their one day’s freedom out of uniform, almost literally.
‘Should tell Devo to cover up. She’s the only girl out there,’ Caden said. He still held his coffee and raised it to his lips. It was starting to cool.
‘She’s covered,’ Bas said. ‘Spoken to her about Katherine yet?’
‘Hoping you’d do it.’ Caden returned to his chair. ‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘More reason. I’m her only friend in this fucking place. She already hates you, why not just add to it?’ He screwed up his face. ‘Not telling her we’re leaving Katie behind.’
They exchanged looks.
‘All I’m saying is we haven’t heard from her for a while,’ Caden said. He waited for his brother to reply, while watching one of the younger male officers launch Devo into the water again.
‘It’s out of character, I’ll admit,’ Bas said and took a glance at what was catching Caden’s attention before sitting again.
‘We have to consider—’
Bas cut through him. ‘We don’t have to consider anything! She’ll make contact when she can. Fuck’s sake, asshole, the comms are down.’
Caden walked into the stare so he could sit behind the table. He gave up the coffee, sitting it on the already stained map. ‘We’ve overstayed here. With communications down, we need to move on.’ He pointed his finger at Bas. ‘You know this, Bastiaan.’
‘She knows what she’s doing.’
Caden scratched at his neck; the bite was swelling. He knew better than to mention the subject anymore, but he had a lot more to say. They’d been arguing over her for two days. Katherine was loved and respected, and neither wanted to tell her kid sister they were bugging out in a few days, and neither wanted to mention it to the rest of the camp.
‘Fuck it,’ Caden said. ‘Fucking hate this sometimes.’
‘Hearing you there, my man, hearing you there.’ Bas raised the glass to his lips again and the brothers became introspective.
Caden teased the mug of cold coffee by its handle, the red pins catching his eye on every turn, the blue pins taunting him. The laughter outside edged his guilt that little bit more. He shook his head before collapsing it into his hands. He felt like crying, but his demeanor would never allow such a betrayal. Watchers never cried.
His brother’s voice broke his thoughts and he rubbed his eyes hard until he saw stars.
‘You haven’t spoken a word about your trip into the city sectors. Everything go okay?’
Caden’s chin propped on his clasped knuckles. ‘The comms were delivered, I had a drink, I left.’
‘And the side mission? The one Isis asked our help with?’
‘Failed.’ He leaned back. ‘Dismally.’ The whiskey bottle looked attractive, but it was early. Not enough discipline to trust he wouldn’t end up blind drunk by lunchtime, and the camp needed him. Today he’d stay sober.
He outstretched his legs, bumping the carefully stacked rocks that propped up the sheet of thin wood, and the coffee tipped over its edge onto the map again. Cold coffee or not, it was coffee and hard to come by. He grabbed the mug and cringed at the bitterness running down his throat.
‘So you asked her?’
He sighed and scratched again. ‘I did.’
Bas reached for his brother’s T-shirt hanging above the bed and slipped it over his head. Another chill of wind sent a shiver through him again. It was a tight fit over his broader shoulders, but the weather was changing again and the hair on his arms begged for cover. The camp’s crew abandoned the river for the warm fire and their tents.
‘She say anything?’
‘Nope.’ He sipped his coffee again. He couldn’t do it. The mug was abandoned for the bottle of whiskey.
‘She pretty?’
His hand recoiled from the glass lying on its side from the night before and he tightened the cap on the bottle instead. Lowering it from sight under the table might ease the temptation. He liked the drink too much lately – even he was aware of the problem.
Beautiful. Stunning.
He shrugged. ‘Average...’ He trailed off, smelling her scent still lingering on his clothes from their night. He still tasted her.
Bas smiled. ‘One-word answers. She’s under your skin.’
‘She needs to be convinced. I don’t know how to do it.’ And he didn’t.
He had hoped for the kiss to convince her. He knew the truth wouldn’t. It would have made her run.
They exchanged looks, knowing looks.
He scowled. ‘Not under my skin,’ Caden said. ‘I’m too old for that bullshit.’
Bas peered over his glass with his lips curled in the corners. He knew his brother well enough to know when he had a crush – because it never happened. It really never happened and Caden was avoiding the subject too much. The last of the whiskey warmed his throat.
‘The other night unsettled me. I don’t think either of us can help her.’
Bas stood, deliberately placing the empty glass beside the coffee mug. ‘What happens when she turns up? Wasn’t he sending her our way for initiation training?’
Caden gave him his attention. ‘Huh?’
‘Julianna Rae is under your skin when you have a job to do.’ He paused. ‘We’re meant to be helping an old friend out. You’re meant to be her appointed watcher.’
‘We’re Rebellion for now, not Council.’
Bas shook his head. He looked down at the pins. ‘Never thought I’d hear the day when you’d say we’re not Council. We’re the New Council; you know it, and Isis knows it. When this war ends – and it will – are you planning on heading to the mountains, or returning to our life?
‘We shouldn’t have agreed to it when we’re so far in the shit.’ He glanced at the map again.
‘He trusts us,’ Bas said.
‘This war could see us dead tomorrow.’
Bas headed for the door and gave his brother’s shoulder a squeeze in passing. ‘It’s your turn to collect the wood.’
Caden watched his brother amble outside toward his own tent, whistling to himself a Barry McGuire classic as he went. He returned his gaze to the map. The lingering smell of alcohol reached his nose and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the last two buttons undone at the neck before reaching for his sidearm and taking his brother’s hint.
The sky was growing overcast. When he stepped outside the cold wind startled him; winter had returned for another day after all. His camp scrambled into their tents for dr
y clothes and relief. The weather was turning for the worst and he needed to head out to the trees before it got ugly, and before the fire died down too much.
Pulling the collar of his jacket against his neck, he started his walk along the worn track, hunching against the cold that surrounded him, and his thoughts taunting him. Julianna danced in front of him again and again. He wanted to touch her again, to kiss her in the tiny room in the back of the club; the things he wanted to do to her.
Urgh! He kicked a rock into a nearby tree.
She was inside his head like no other. No matter how he tried, she stayed with him, sending his senses into over drive. Something was incredibly wrong with the picture.
Or maybe Bas is right. Feelings in a war are not good – as a watcher, very wrong. A friend’s daughter – shouldn’t even go there. Urgh, for fuck’s sake! Fucking stop it already!
He clawed at his neck enough that the pain cleared his mind, and he then healed the bite. The hike to the surrounding trees wasn’t a rough one; the trail was worn under heavy boots over the months. He wove into the trees, eyes front, sidearm strapped to his thigh, on the lookout for strays or Militia. The thoughts lingered, but the hunt for good wood pushed them slowly away. He would pile up a stack and make a return trip before the rain set in.
He looked through the canopies of branches hanging overhead; the grey clouds were swooping in. A storm was approaching and he really should have brought another set of hands from the camp to help. Usually they travelled in pairs for firewood, but he didn’t have the heart to break the day for anyone, and he wanted his own company. The kids always talked too much, like there was no tomorrow, and he sniggered at the thought.
For some there is no tomorrow, he contemplated. For some kids, biding time was the only thing left.
He took another cautious step, one after the other; as he did, he surveyed around for wood. A fallen branch took his interest and he grabbed one end while giving the middle a hard kick. It snapped under his strength. One more kick gave him two solid chunks.
As he bent, the sound of steps on dry ground froze him.
His eyes shot up, his watcher senses leading his sight between the trees, deeper into the woods, scanning for a presence. His eyes narrowed and darkened and he could feel the change come over him like a welcome relief. The time spent hiding from the kids was setting him on edge, and the tension was building inside, like an animal caged and ready to pounce.
The steps hastened. His head twitched to the side, feeling the change in the breeze before him and his sights tracked in closer as his step barely touched the ground. It felt so good to chase again.
The branch dropped so he could curl his fingers around the grip of his semi-auto. The strap popped from its stud holding the gun’s body to his leg; the weight felt cold and comfortable. He held it discreetly by his side while he searched.
He leaned forward, keeping a large tree to his right side, which offered some concealment. Branches crunched underfoot and with them his heart pushed the adrenaline through his veins.
Yes, it is good to hunt again. Bas will understand.
He held his breath and waited for the footsteps to bring a body into his line of sight. The undergrowth continued to move, making noise against dry tinder and leaves; slowly, his gun rose up toward it.
A deer strode past, giving him a glance with its doe-brown eyes before ducking its neck for some fresh grass between the branches Caden had disturbed. His gun lowered, the feeling of being watched disappeared, and he grunted at himself for being so paranoid. He took a step forward and the deer startled, moving at a pace that only a watcher could track. A few feet more and green undergrowth sprouting between some rocks caught her attention.
His gun rose again and he had the animal in his sights. He was tired of river fish for dinner. A last grand meal before they bugged out. It would serve the morale well to have fresh venison tonight. Caden’s finger twitched on the trigger, one-handed, no need for support. He fired as the doe looked up. She never knew what hit her.
Chapter 11
1340 HOURS.
IN-COUNTRY.
They weaved their bikes on the road, zigzagging along the empty stretch as the city disappeared behind them and the countryside approached. It was too easy. They were on the end stretch and he kept reassuring her that Isis was looking out for them as he always did.
Very few bikes passed them, and the Jeeps that approached, their engines which could be heard in the distance, would send them dashing into the thick trees lining the interstate. The main camp was farther west down the road, and the Jeeps could move cross-country quickly to cut down an enemy. Julianna thought of her last escape from the Jeeps, and it had been no easy feat. The only redemption that night was the edge of a rock ledge they’d misjudged.
Without the fall, would we be alive? She wondered. She pushed the thought away from her mind, to concentrate on the road in front.
Julianna continued her lookout for the Jeeps, her hair pushed away from her face in the sweet scent of warmth mixed with impending rain. Her helmet stayed secured to the back of her bike. She wanted to taste the freedom the countryside offered. Leaving Sector Eight was easy with the sector pass waiting for her at Gate Twelve, as Isis promised, the final Sector within the confines of what used to be considered California. She finally felt alone, aside from the company who still wouldn’t part with his name.
The afternoon closed in and the presence of time weighed heavily on her shoulders. According to her guide, they were forty-five minutes from the camp’s last known location. She acknowledged his statement, but the closeness of camp 2.2.1 and the possibility they’d missed their window of opportunity, weighed heavily.
The sky ahead of them was blue, with no sign of hover drones, but the clarity of the horizon betrayed her sense of freedom. She scrutinized the walls of the camp looming up ahead. Her heart leapt, her pulse skipped its beat and when they stopped their bikes in the nearby trees, Julianna’s anxiety grew.
They wheeled their bikes over the rough ground, weaving between the cover of the trees, cautious not to alert the guards on gate duty. The tower’s sharpshooters stood to attention at the opening of camp 2.2.1. The K-9 unit helped to persuade the passerby’s to move quickly. The interstate was all that separated them. Julianna watched from the corner of her eye as they slowly pushed through the thicket with their heads down, breathing heavily.
This is more time wasted, she thought. A crack of thunder struck ahead, but there was no rain. She looked at the grey clouds forming, ashamed of the delay. The K-9 unit barked feverishly, though the day tinged with its unseasonal warmth.
She studied the large camp. Its concrete walls pushed their way into a clearing of trees to the west. Open meadow sat to its north, south, and east boundaries, easy to guard with towers and drones. Hovers, sentries, and two towers heavily guarded the dirt entranceway. A damned fortress, she thought. The Prince of Darkness finally has his own castle.
He turned to her. ‘Shhh! If I can hear you, so can they.’
They struggled with their bikes, moving slowly over the thick terrain and when a large tree blocked their way, they resigned to the road again.
Clouds closed around the sun and the wind changed direction, cutting sharply through them. Julianna hoped for the rain to hold off until they arrived at the camp – or where it once was. She hadn’t given thought to an abandoned location until now. Half of her hoped they’d left; the other half hoped Caden stayed just a moment longer.
Then Julianna saw her.
She was a distant shadow from where they were, a blur of an image on the horizon. She walked their side of the road, crossing legs and stumbling, struggling slowly to stand. She fell as her body failed to gain balance. She resembled a baby taking a first step, only this wasn’t a baby – this was a woman covered in blood.
The girl was oblivious to their bikes. Her hair was long and tangled, matted with dirt and stained. Julianna parked her bike and sprinted to reach her. The stain was
a familiar red; the closer Julianna got, the bigger the stain became. She was covered head to toe in blood, her bare legs covered in its thick streams.
‘She’s hurt!’ Julianna called over her shoulder. He kicked down his stand hesitantly. There wasn’t any time for this.
The girl’s eyes widened with terror. Julianna knew this girl. She was the girl who had given her the pendant; the girl who’d helped her escape Central Command.
The girl ran.
Her legs collapsed against each other, buckling at the knees, falling heavily onto the road. The panting and crying disturbed the clumped-up hair, with her head hung low. Cuts and gashes zigzagged over her body; a mad man had attacked her. No skin spared but for the pretty face shaded with grey and blue bruises. She kicked her legs before defeat took over and had her curl on her side in the middle of the road, waiting for an end to come.
‘We won’t hurt you,’ Julianna whispered, and she reached out her hand.
The girl kicked again, pushing Julianna from her haunches, giving her a chance to claw the hard ground for escape. Her nails bent back, until they peeled from their skin. Julianna agonized at the struggle and reached out to embrace the girl’s arms and hold out the pendant on her neck.
‘You gave this to me the other night, remember? You gave this to me and your name is Deveaux.’ She held it to her eyes. ‘Katherine Deveaux.’
Her blue eyes filled with fear. The only thing not stained with her blood.
‘We’re going to help you, Katherine.’
He approached his tall stature behind Julianna, his hands in his pockets. Katherine’s mouth gasped for air and she cried as she outstretched her hands for him to take.
‘Katie?’ He edged forward. ‘What has he done to you, my girl? Did Caden do this? Bastiaan?’ It was his turn to crouch. He held his hands to his face, barely showing his eyes as he surveyed the mess before him. ‘What happened?