Northern Raiders. Ethan contemplated this for a minute. No, definitely not right. Naming was certainly not his strong suit. He sighed. Maybe I should just stick to raids and patrols. Let someone else handle the politics.
Ethan leaned forward to grab his canteen and at the same time felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The feeling of dread was so intense that he wanted to vomit. He’d started having these feelings when the Urlowens first arrived. He couldn’t explain it, but they acted almost like premonitions.
Allison! Fear grasped at Ethan’s chest.
Allison had been his friend since grade school. They grew up playing together, hanging out with a mutual set of friends, and spending quite a bit of time together. Until high school. In her freshman year, Allison blossomed, becoming stunningly beautiful with perfect light brown hair—and everything else, for that matter. Then halfway through the second semester, her family moved across the city, and she was gone.
At the beginning of Ethan’s senior year—this year—the war started, and Madison City fell. Ethan lost both his parents in the initial attack and joined the resistance for survival. When Allison and her parents returned to the Eisenhower sector a few months later and joined the resistance, Ethan was thrilled. Allison was smart and helped plan attacks and obtain information for the resistance. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Crawling quietly to his knees and looking over the wall toward the store, he had to stifle a gasp. Two men dressed in formidable black body armor were silently making their way to the side entrance of the store. They were muscular and seemed to exude deadly precision in their movements. Clearly not the standard Urlowen police force. He wasn’t sure why two men would elicit such a strong feeling of impending doom, but he knew deep down the battle was already lost. He pushed back his feeling of dread and set his mind to the task at hand: saving as many as he could, including Allison.
Ethan moved quickly to the far edge of the wall, being careful to stay out of sight. He was on the second story of a derelict hospital. Most of the walls had been blown out, so he sat on the edge of the open floor and then dropped to a large pile of rubble below just high enough to allow access to the second floor. He landed on chunks of rock and cement, then scurried down the makeshift hill as fast and quietly as possible. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he took off at a run for the front edge of the building.
His heart was racing when he reached the corner. Peering around it, he looked for the men who were approaching. They were gone, presumably already in the building. The street that separated his lookout from the store was dark and empty. With no time to lose, Ethan dashed out of cover into the open road.
He half expected to be shot down crossing the street and was surprised when he reached the store without incident. Then the silence of the night was broken by a blood-curdling scream issued from within the building. It shook him to his core. Plasma rifle fire erupted immediately after. He considered using the front entrance but knew that would be suicide, so he ran toward the back of the store, hoping not to encounter any Urlowen soldiers on the way. As he ran, he heard the distinct sound of the plasma bolts intensifying inside. There was shouting, but he couldn’t make out anything being said.
As he rounded the corner to the back of the store, sidearm in hand, he almost opened fire on Scott, who was shooting furiously at the door. Scott had been the other lookout on duty and left his post to join the battle as well. Ethan ran forward to help break through. When he reached the door, Scott swung his weapon around, directing it at Ethan’s face.
“Wait, don’t shoot!” Ethan screamed. “It’s me.” It was hard to hear anything above the noise coming from the building.
Scott turned his weapon back to the door and began firing again. “They’ve sealed the door with some sort of energy barrier,” he yelled to Ethan.
Ethan looked at the door carefully. Sure enough, there was a thin, almost transparent layer of energy encasing it. “There has to be a weak spot somewhere, or an emitter, or something,” Ethan shouted back. A tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach stole his attention. Not now. But the sensation grew, drawing his focus toward the bottom right corner of the doorframe. “Stop firing a second.”
Scott stopped his assault on the door. “What is it? They need us in there.”
“There’s something different about the right side of the door.” He moved in closer and inspected the edge of the barrier. “There’s a small emitter on the bottom right corner!” Ethan aimed his gun at the emitter and took a single shot. The barrier came down.
“Great work,” Scott said, slapping him on the back. “Now let’s get in there.” Scott ran through the door and into the employee break room with Ethan trailing just behind. The room was relatively large, with several small round tables scattered throughout, kitchenette in the corner, and the entryway straight ahead to the right. The two ran for the door and took positions on each side.
Scott motioned to Ethan, who swung around through the doorframe into an empty hallway. “Hallway’s clear,” he yelled to Scott. It was loud enough to be heard over the gunfire, but not so loud that anyone else could hear him. They continued down the hall, moving as quickly as they could. To their left, they passed the entrance to the loading dock, but it appeared empty as well.
“Everyone must be in the command room,” Scott said.
Ethan nodded, and they kept moving. The hallway turned left and stopped at a set of double doors leading to the sales floor, their makeshift command center. Racks of clothes had been pushed around the edges of the large room, and tables with computer consoles, a small weapons cache, and an area for homemade explosives had all been set up. Again, the two took flanking positions on either side of the entryway.
Ethan peered through the rectangular windows in the door to get a read on the action inside. His stomach lurched, making him feel queasy. The floor was littered with the dead, including Allison’s parents. He tried to maintain his composure but was quickly losing the internal struggle. Tables had been flipped on their sides for cover but were unable to stop the high-energy plasma bolts, which had burned straight through.
He could make out only five positions volleying fire back and forth through the room. Four were coming from the perimeter, which had to be the two men he saw enter the building plus two others. The fifth was Susan, who was pinned down behind a reinforced cashier’s stand in the center of the room. The circular counter provided protection from every angle, and she was firing wildly in all directions to keep the Urlowens at bay.
“We’ve got to help her,” Scott whispered across the doorway.
“How?”
“See the table just to the left about twenty feet inside? I’ll make a run for it to draw their fire. While they’re distracted, you make for the cashier’s stand.”
Ethan shook his head. “This is a bad plan.”
“All right, let’s go,” Scott called back as he ran into the room, firing his rifle furiously.
It all happened so fast, Ethan didn’t even have time to respond. Scott tore for the overturned table, got about five shots off, and dropped in midstride. Ethan pulled his head back from the door, hoping he hadn’t been seen.
“Ethan,” a voice whispered behind him.
He spun around, weapon raised, to find Allison limping toward him, holding her leg. “Where’d you come from?” Ethan spat feverishly. He was incredibly happy to see her. After seeing her parents' bodies, he’d assumed the worst.
“I was hiding in the loading dock. I twisted my leg, and Dad told me to hide and stay out of the way.” Her eyes drifted to the fighting in the room ahead. “My mom and dad?”
Ethan shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Allison leaned against the wall to steady herself. “We have to get out of here,” she said, holding back tears. Her voice cracked as she forced the words out.
“I agree, but we can’t leave Susan.”
Allison’s face fell. “She’s already dead. There’s no way we can get to h
er. If we try, we’ll all end up dead. Right now she’s giving us the time we need to escape.”
She was right, of course, but it didn’t make Ethan like it any better. “All right, let’s go. We can get out through the break room in the back.” Ethan wrapped his arm around her waist and she put her arm on his shoulder, letting part of her weight rest on him instead of her injured leg. They moved back through the hallway as fast as possible.
When they got to the break room, the roaring sound of rifle fire stopped. It was over. Susan had fallen. Ethan and Allison hurried out of the store and into the cover of darkness.
“Clear,” Malik called from behind the counter labeled ‘Customer Service.’ He stood and began to slowly make his way through the room, checking each body lying on the floor for signs of life.
“Mercy,” a broken woman croaked from the floor. She’d taken one shot to the leg and another to the lower abdomen. “Please show mercy.”
Malik kneeled beside her. “Be at peace,” he said, and in one quick motion slipped a foot-long knife from its sheath on his waist and drove it into her chest.
“You could’ve just shot her,” Wren called out from across the room.
“There’s no honor in that,” Malik replied. After completing his checks, he met the others at the central cashier’s station. “I counted thirty-two.”
Zavier was sifting through the files in one of the resistance computers. “If their personnel numbers are correct, then we missed two. There should’ve been thirty-four.”
“Lookouts,” Wren said. “The lookouts must’ve seen us coming and abandoned their friends. Apparently our reputation precedes us.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, that means we were sloppy. They shouldn’t have seen us coming. We’ll have to be more careful next time.”
“Do you want us to search for them?” Alex asked.
“No,” Wren replied. “Not tonight at least. Let them tell the others what happened here. Fear will work in our favor for future engagements.”
“I’m done. I’ve got everything,” Zavier announced, standing from the computer console.
“Good. Let’s head back and get some sleep. Our patrols will scoop up some citizens to clean this mess in the morning. It helps remind them who’s in charge around here.” Wren placed his rifle back in its equipment slot in the armor on his back, and the four of them walked out the front door.
Chapter 4
Traven and Kalma parked the skimmer next to an abandoned warehouse in a run-down part of the Washington sector. The two exited the vehicle and adjusted their body armor for the journey ahead. The synthetic blend of materials was relatively light and impervious to glancing blows from standard energy bolts, but a direct hit could certainly get through. Even with their light weight, miles of hiking would quickly make them uncomfortable.
“First order of business, get some new clothes and a place to call home for a few nights,” Traven said while looking around to get the lay of the land. He glanced down at his multiband, bringing up a hologram of the region around them. Just to the south was a low-income housing division that had suffered severe damage during the city’s conquest. That’s our best bet. They could pick up some clothes, stow their high-tech gear, and start looking for connections to the resistance.
Kalma chuckled to himself watching Traven study the invisible map hovering above his arm. He understood the security benefits associated with making the multiband’s projections only visible to the operator, but still found it entertaining to watch others use them.
“We’ll head south to the Romero suburb,” Traven said, looking up from the projection. “It’s about a mile away.”
“Sounds great.” Without waiting, Kalma started toward the edge of the parking lot.
They stuck to the back alleyways as much as possible, and in the cover of darkness, they were able to sneak around without much trouble. A few times, they passed Urlowen curfew patrols but slid by without notice. It was best to avoid the patrols to keep their presence a secret.
When they arrived, the suburb was just as Traven hoped, run-down and filthy. Most buildings were covered in graffiti and near collapse. Trash littered the streets. It was the type of place people went to hide; the other inhabitants were simply too stubborn or poor to leave. A stray spotted cat passed by, not bothering to acknowledge their presence. It clearly didn’t care that its neighborhood lay in shambles.
The two walked along several streets looking for an inconspicuous place to set up a small base camp. After a half hour or so, they came across a small two-bedroom house at a corner intersection. Wrapping around the front and side was an unkept hedge that grew wildly out of control and blocked most of the windows that otherwise would’ve been visible from the street. A very old chain-link fence lined the property but had gaps where it'd been broken and never repaired. Two large trees stood on either side of the house, providing a little more coverage from prying eyes.
Traven motioned to Kalma, who nodded and ran toward the back of the house. Quietly, Traven approached the front door, vaulting the fence to avoid the possibility of the gate squeaking. The electric entry panel was busted, and a very old-fashioned doorknob had been installed. He tried giving it a turn, but it was locked. Disregarding his initial urge to kick the door down, potentially attracting far too much attention, he decided this required a special touch. Digging down deep to the core of his being, he searched for the little glow of energy from which his magic flowed. It was a dim glow all right, but eventually he found it.
He placed his hand on the doorknob and, concentrating with all his might, searched for the locking mechanism. Just as he started to feel it, Kalma’s voice broke into his thoughts, transmitted by the multiband.
“Back door’s locked, Traven. Any luck up front?”
“Then unlock it,” Traven responded, annoyed that Kalma had destroyed his concentration. How the Elves managed to perfect magic wielding was still a mystery to him; it took all his power to simply move a set of locking pins in a door handle.
With a deep breath, he calmed his irritation and felt for the locking mechanism again. This time he had it. He could feel it. All of a sudden, the lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing Kalma standing inside. He was holding the other side of the doorknob.
“Need any help, boss?” Kalma said, with far too big a grin on his face.
“Shut it, Kalma,” Traven whispered, his pride a little hurt. Clearly Kalma had unlocked the door from the inside. He’d have to start practicing magic again in his spare time. I can’t let Kalma think he has a skill I haven’t mastered. These new kids….
“I checked the house before I came to rescue you. It’s empty.” Kalma still had that smile on his face.
“You’re never going to shut up about this, are you?”
Kalma shrugged. “Eventually, maybe, but you have to admit that knowing the legendary Traven Re’alen can’t magic a door lock is a powerful bargaining chip.” Kalma’s words dripped with sarcasm. “I thought all the Guard had to pass a magic proficiency exercise.” His smile turned to a snide grin.
“Of course I passed the tests. It’s just easy to get a little rusty. There’s rarely a need to use it. It’s not like we find ourselves fighting Elves anymore. Now get out of my way.” Traven pushed past Kalma and walked toward the hallway that presumably led to the bedrooms.
Kalma chuckled, amused with himself, shut the door, and followed Traven. The first room was clearly a child’s, dusty toys scattered across the floor. The walls were brightly colored, and a small dresser that had long since been knocked over was lying on its side. The second room was the master, also with items scattered about.
Traven walked to the closet and opened the door. “They must’ve left in a real hurry. They didn’t even pack their clothes.”
About two-thirds of the closet was filled with men’s clothes, the rest dresses, leggings, and various other feminine apparel. They were all well-worn and many had holes in them. Even better, they were covered with dust and dirt.
“Perfect,” Traven said. “The worse we look, the more believable our story will be.”
“What now?” Kalma asked.
“Now we lock up and get some sleep. The curfew seems to be doing its job a little too well at the moment. People are keeping to themselves and staying inside. Tomorrow morning, we’ll start talking to the locals and see what information we can dig up.” Traven sat on the bed. It was tilted at an odd angle due to a broken leg on the frame. Comfortable enough. Lying back, he placed his hands under his head and stretched out.
“You want to lock up, then? Get in a second round with the front door?” Kalma asked, not hiding his amusement. “You could use the practice.”
“Get out of here,” Traven scolded, pointing toward the door.
Kalma left the room laughing. After ensuring all the doors and windows were secure, he placed area sensors around each, as well as along the floor. Through the multiband, they would silently alert the Guard if anyone entered the house.
When he finished, he lay down in the kid’s room. There was a small lumpy mattress on the floor, and his feet hung off the end. Kalma sighed. Better than the floor. Rolling onto his side, he smiled thinking of Traven’s annoyance, then closed his eyes and slept.
Up with the sun the next morning, Traven went to the closet and picked out brown trousers, which were far too loose and baggy, with holes in the left knee and a rip rising from the bottom of the right cuff to halfway up his calf. There were two large pockets on the outside thighs, one with the bottom completely ripped out. The other would be sufficient for stowing a couple of short knives.
He grabbed an equally worn red T-shirt, the neck seam riddled with small holes scattered around the circumference. There were also holes across the back of the shirt, and one of the sleeves had lost its seam entirely.
Earthborn Awakening Page 3