by Jo Schneider
“Our large transports. You can haul fifty people in each of them. More if you’re willing to get cozy, but we don’t use them very often. They take up too much fuel and they’re loud. The small ones are quiet.” Jeff swerved to his right. “There’s Riggs.”
The hangar housed other vehicles as well. More than a dozen hover bikes lined one wall. Four of them had been ripped apart and sat in pieces. A couple of trucks—the kind that used gasoline—sat in a far corner, along with three tiny carts.
A group of fighters in full gear stood by the hover bikes, their helmets already on.
Mechanics worked on various projects, yelling back and forth over the clang of metal tools. The heavy smell of oil and sweat permeated the air. Armed guards stood at regular intervals. Wendy noted the entrance they had come through, the main door that rolled up so even the largest transports could get out, a small door near that one and another larger exit on the right-hand wall of the hangar. She had no idea where that one went. She’d thought that the hangar was the end of this part of Shelter.
More secrets. More questions for Kev and Cal, who had seen almost every inch of Shelter from the air vents.
Jeff steered them to where Riggs and Yan stood talking. Wendy hadn’t seen much of Yan since she’d been back. He’d been their fighting trainer, and from what she understood, he was always in charge of hand-to-hand training here. His slight, Asian frame belied the fact that he was one of the best fighters here. She caught Yan’s words as they approached.
“I’ve got six guys down in medical,” Yan said, pointing toward the fighters by the hover bikes. “And three more say they don’t feel well. I had to snag some of the teenagers to fill out my roster.” He leaned in toward Riggs. “It kind of made things easier.”
Riggs gave him a slight nod. “Yeah, I’m down two guys too, and another is feeling sick. Doc says there’s something going around. We’ll all probably get it,” Riggs said. He glanced up when Jeff and Wendy got close. “Good, you’re here.” He handed Jeff a small envelope.
“Orders,” Riggs explained.
“Thanks,” Jeff said as he took the envelope.
Yan smacked Riggs on the shoulder. “See you in a bit.”
Riggs huffed.
Yan gave Wendy a wink and turned on his heels toward the hover bikes and the six fighters that stood nearby.
“Where’s he going?” Wendy asked.
Riggs shook his head. “He’s the team coming after you. Is your whole team here?”
Jeff turned to look. Wendy hadn’t seen any of them on the way in, but now she spotted Kev, Cal and Sven, the large, blonde guy from their training group. Matt appeared a moment later, lugging his gear and not looking happy about it.
“I see Matt came to talk to you,” Jeff said to Riggs.
“He is not happy.”
“Nope. But this is just a day trip. We’ll be back tonight. He can go back to medical then.”
A faint rumble emanated from the small transport to their right.
Riggs pointed to it. “That’s your ride. My team is going on that one and Yan is heading out on the bikes. It’ll only take a few minutes to get to the training ground. Better get loaded up so you can tell your team what’s going on.”
Wendy noted the size of Riggs team. Still a dozen people. “Our team seems to be a little short on manpower.”
“Mike didn’t want to draw too much attention.” Riggs waved his team into their transport. “Take off is in five.”
“Got it.” Jeff turned and jogged toward their little group. Wendy followed.
Kev and Sven were talking. Matt stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a death glare on his face. Cal was studying the controls for a hover cart. They all looked up as Jeff and Wendy approached.
“Grab your gear,” Jeff said as he reached down and swooped up his own pack. “That’s our ride. Strap in. We’ll get to orders after we take off.”
Kev picked up Wendy’s pack up and held it out. “Is this yours? You’re going to tip over.”
“I’m not worried,” Wendy said.
“You should be. That thing weighs as much as you do. You might not get back up.”
“That’s why you’re here,” Wendy said as she took the straps to the pack and threw it over her shoulder.
Cal laughed, but stepped closer. “Do you know what this is about?”
Wendy shifted her eyes to Jeff, who was helping Sven and Matt onto the transport. “Just that Mike wants a back up team in training.”
“Back up team for what?”
“I don’t know.” Wendy was pretty sure she held her face straight. She added, “Jeff didn’t tell me.”
Kev eyed her. “I’m not sure I trust you on this, Shrimp.”
“Fine.” Wendy walked up the ramp and into the belly of the transport.
A row of seats lined each side of the transport. Matt went to the farthest back on the right, tossed his pack above his head, secured it and sat.
Wendy did the same. She had to climb up on the seat to get her pack in the right place, but she did it before anyone offered to help her. The seat engulfed her—she could almost fit two of her in it. The buckles came down around her arms and fastened between her legs.
The others filed in and sat. An unexpected smell permeated her nose. Oil. Fuel. Burning. Metal. It was faint, but enough to jog a memory.
The day Pelton had gotten away sparked in her mind. The moment she woke from a fog and noticed she’d beaten a Skinny to death with a rock. Watching them carry Arie onto a transport on a stretcher, not knowing if the other girl would be okay. Not knowing if Wendy deserved to be forgiven for drawing her friends into the conflict with Pelton.
Bile rose in her throat as she remembered Jeff helping her wash the gore from her hands and arms. Her feet throbbed as she recalled Matt wrapping them after the fight.
Usually the flashes came back to her from the Den. Or the cupboard. The two fighters that didn’t make it. This was more recent and more potent. One smell, and she was there.
An elbow in her ribs snapped her out of it.
“Wake up,” Matt said.
Wendy hadn’t realized that she’d closed her eyes. She opened them and composed her expression. “Just trying to get a cat nap in,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” Matt said. “How goes it?”
“I’m here.”
Matt made a face. “I feel like I’m out of touch with everyone and everything.”
“It’s because you lock yourself up in medical.”
“I know.”
For maybe the first time ever, Matt was the one who changed the subject. “We still haven’t had it out in the combat rooms, have we?” Matt said.
“You keep ditching me. Kev thinks you’re afraid to get beaten by a girl.”
“I just don’t want to be responsible for you ending up in medical. Looks bad if I’m the one putting people there.”
“I think you underestimate my ability to dodge.”
“I doubt it.”
Jeff interrupted. “Everybody in?”
They each gave Jeff an affirmative. He gave the go sign to the pilot, and the transport shuddered to life.
Wendy didn’t have clear memories of her last flight, so every sensation was new.
They lifted off the ground, then flew slowly forward. Wendy couldn’t see outside, and each movement was unexpected. She wound her fingers through the restraint straps.
They turned, then went forward again. Which felt okay. Then they must have cleared the door, because the gentle momentum suddenly accelerated, and Wendy’s stomach was left behind as the transport shot forward and her body pressed into the side of the seat.
She was glad to see the others had looks of forced calm on their faces. Their own hands clinging onto the chairs or the restraints told her that they weren’t entirely comfortable with this either.
A voice cut through the cabin. “ETA is five minutes. Hold on.”
The pilot. It sounded like Janice, and her tone indicated she was havi
ng a little too much fun.
A strange weight started to press in around Wendy. Not like the tunnels or the box. This was different. Her ears ached, and a lump rose in her throat. Wendy looked up and found everyone still talking. The transport turned, Wendy’s stomach protested, and her head swam. She swallowed down the urge to vomit.
Luckily, Jeff distracted her. He stood—holding on to a bar that spanned the whole cargo bay—and spoke.
“Okay, guys, this one is simple. Our team and Riggs’ team are racing from our landing points to our destination. Once we get there, we need to secure the area and keep the other team out. Yan is going to be harassing whoever he can find.”
“Oh boy, won’t that be fun?” Kev asked.
“We only have two hours, so we’ll have to be quick.”
“He really expects us to secure a location from a team twice the size of ours?” Cal asked.
Jeff eyed him as he sat and buckled in. “Don’t worry, I have some ideas.”
Wendy wasn’t sure she believed him.
“Everyone has paint guns—a rifle and a pistol. Ammo is limited to what you have in your packs, so don’t waste it. We’re carrying our melee weapons.” He looked at Wendy. “But no using them on anyone.”
“Me?” Wendy asked, willing to play Jeff’s game. Her stomach clenched as she spoke.
“Yes, you.”
Kev leaned over. “You do have a reputation.”
The others laughed. Wendy forced a smile and willed her breakfast to stay where it was.
“Okay, we land and this is the order. Kev’s on point. Then me. Then Wendy, Matt, Cal and Sven. We’re going to go fast. Keep your eyes open for Yan.”
“Which means we’re all going to die,” Kev said.
“Speak for yourself,” Matt grumbled.
The pressure on Wendy’s stomach shifted, and the transport slowed then lowered toward the ground.
Jeff stayed buckled until they settled. The moment the ramp began to lower, Jeff stood. “Grab your gear, be ready in one.”
Wendy went to climb on her chair to get her pack, but Matt reached over her head and handed it to her.
“I can do it,” she said.
“Oh, I know you can.”
“Show some gratitude,” Kev said as he started toward the ramp.
Wendy shoved the earpiece of her radio in her ear and tucked the rest of it into a pocket on her sleeve. She drew her pistol and flexed her fingers around it a few times. It didn’t make it feel any less foreign in her hand. The weight of her knives on her belt reminded her that she could defend herself if it came down to it. If this turned into something besides a training exercise.
Kev crept down the ramp. Jeff followed. Wendy did the same, gun out and eyes scanning the area around them. She trailed behind Jeff from the center of the clearing where they’d landed to the cover of trees beyond.
They must be a little farther down the mountains than Shelter, because the trees were different. More leaves and fewer needles. Which made treading softly challenging. Old leaves had the tendency to crunch and rustle.
Wendy swung her gaze back and forth, as they’d learned as trainees. She watched where she put her feet to keep the noise minimal. They snaked through the trees with hardly a whisper.
Jeff spoke quietly through the radio. “Okay, here we go. Fast is the name of the game. Keep your eyes open. If you see anything, tap the radio once. To confirm a bad guy, tap twice.”
Wendy’s legs reveled in the challenge of the hike. She pushed her muscles and they rose to the challenge. The trees flew by as they moved. Sunlight trickled through the leaves. The first hints of fall—bright yellows and deep reds—had begun to blossom on the trees. A slight breeze shuffled everything, masking their movements, and those of anyone approaching them.
They’d been going for ten minutes or so before the radio clicked once.
As she had been trained, Wendy ducked to her right and put a tree at her side.
The others did the same, and where there had once been a line, nothing remained.
Wendy calmed her breathing and listened. More rustling, but it was the wind. Then a scrape. Maybe someone was close. Her heart sped up. Someone was watching them.
“On my mark, split up in your predetermined directions. Meet a hundred yards ahead.” Jeff’s voice barely made it through the radio.
He wanted them to run? Why? It had to be Yan’s team, and if they were smart they sent at least three guys after Riggs, probably four. Which meant that Jeff’s team outnumbered them two to one. Why not flush them out?
But Wendy wasn’t in charge, so she got ready and waited for the signal.
“Now.”
The middle of the line took off first, then the order went toward the ends. Wendy delayed for ten seconds then bolted.
There was always a thrill in a good hunting exercise. It almost felt real. Wendy smiled as she ducked from tree to bush and then down a small hill.
She didn’t hear anyone following, but she stopped when she got up the other side of the valley and crouched behind a bush. There should be enough cover for her to stay hidden.
Who was following them? Could it be Yan? He should go after Riggs, but he may have decided to test Jeff.
While she watched, the bushes across from her rustled.
A moment later a fighter emerged. One of Yan’s—he still wore the bike helmet. Ten yards away another appeared.
Wendy tapped her radio twice. Then twice again.
Someone else tapped twice. Then another.
Had Yan sent four of his guys after them?
Another tap.
Five?
Maybe some of her team were seeing the same guys.
Wendy waited until Yan’s people went back into the bushes before she rose and crept along the line of trees to her right.
They could shoot these guys, right? She took a step to start down the hill, but heard a sound behind her.
Birds and bugs went silent. Even the wind stopped.
Another rustle. Someone was back there. Maybe just one. She could take one out by herself. Give her team an advantage. They would need it.
Wendy turned and waited for the next breeze. When it hit, she half crouched, half jogged forward. She didn’t see anyone, but could just barely follow the sound of feet on the forest floor.
What if she was following one of her own people?
She sped up to see if that was the case. Why else would they be moving away? The phantom kept just ahead of her, obviously good at moving through the woods. Wendy took a chance and made a little more noise. She was getting pretty far off her designated course.
“We’re under attack, form up everyone.” Jeff said through the radio.
Wendy circled a big tree, hoping to get her back to some rocks before she had to duck or fight. She would join the others when she took this guy out. Or died trying. Metaphorically, of course.
The weight of the paintball gun in her hands felt awkward, and her palms started to sweat. Her fingers twitched toward her knives. Yelling voices and the splat of paint balls came from her left.
A rustle of leaves was all the warning Wendy got. She ducked and rolled out of the way just as a barrage of blue paint balls splattered against the rocks and tress behind her.
Aiming still wasn’t one of Wendy’s strong suits, but she knew the power of a random blast, so she shot back.
More rustling. A grunt.
Wendy ran behind a tree and pressed her back up against it. She opened her mouth to tell Jeff she was under attack, but her pursuer spoke.
“Come on out, Wendy.”
The voice sent a chill up Wendy’s spine, and she squeezed her gun.
“It’s just you and me,” Dennis said. “We can finish this right now.”
Chapter 12
Wendy dove to the side and rolled, coming up to her feet and twisting so her gun aimed at Dennis.
He wore the same gear as the rest of Yan’s team. His helmet lay on the ground behind him. His pain
t ball gun sat in the holster on his hip.
“I’m not here to shoot you with a stupid paint ball.” If not for the sneer, Dennis’ face might have been handsome. But now Wendy only saw a bully and the object of her monster’s desire.
“Your mother finally let you out of her sight?” Wendy asked.
“She lets me do what I want.”
“Yeah, and lie about it too. Must be a nice life.”
“My life was fine until you came along.”
Wendy laughed. “You poor baby. Someone beats you in a fight and your world falls apart?” The monster growled and licked its lips. Wendy stared into Dennis’ eyes. “Why don’t you get a real problem?”
“A real problem?” Dennis stepped forward once. Then again. “Oh, you mean like you have? So I freak out whenever it’s dark or I brush a wall with my shoulder?”
Wendy’s hands wanted to shake. She could barely hold the gun steady. “What do you want Dennis?”
Dennis laughed. “You.” His hand twitched. A scowl creased his face, and his eyes burned with rage. “Dead.”
The breeze kicked up around them. Leaves rustled. The sweat on Wendy’s neck cooled.
“You think you can kill me?” Wendy calculated the distance between them. She could get to him in four running steps. The monster stretched like a cat, preparing to fight.
“A knife will kill you as easily as it will anyone else,” Dennis said.
“So true.” He would expect her to come in swinging. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet.
Dennis came forward two more steps. “What will it be?”
A dark cloud passed over the sun, and grey light plunged the world around them into a colorless landscape. Wendy looked at Dennis and saw his leering face from the night he had stuffed her into the cupboard. He’d shocked her and carried her like a child. Such an intimate gesture, but for a sinister purpose.
“He doesn’t deserve to live,” the voice in her said.
Wendy clamped her teeth shut and tried to ignore it. She couldn’t kill him. Mike could get her to the Primate and therefore Pelton. Pelton was her goal, not Dennis. Dennis was a just stupid, spoiled, undisciplined kid.
“Maybe you’ll scream again. Like you did that night in the cupboard.” He smiled a reptilian smile. “It was a lovely sound.”