by Lynn Vroman
Zander scratched his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna go too, get some sleep.” He bent to kiss my cheek, and whispered, “See you tonight.” He left, going in the opposite direction as Winston.
Wilma steam-rolled past me and barged in my room. “I’m staying with you.” Her gravelly voice left no room for argument.
I grinned despite everything. Upchucking by myself would have to take a rain check. “Great. Now I have to deal with her snoring.”
Farren smiled and squeezed my shoulder. “You okay, kid?”
“No, yeah, well–” I swiped at my cheek. “No, I’m fine, everything’s fine.” I found my feet, studying the way the leather weaved over my toes. “I’ve never, you know, killed anybody.”
He chuckled, lifting my chin. “No shit? Hmm…learn something new every day”
“Not funny.”
He pulled me to his chest, patting my head as if I were a Golden Retriever. “No, it’s not. But listen, you won’t have to worry about that, okay? As soon as the bad and ugly goes down, we’re going to get you out.”
“So you want me to be a hound dog, sniff out the nest, and hide while you guys put your lives at risk?”
“Yup!” Wilma’s voice reverberated off the walls, echoing down the hall.
Farren pulled away and traced my jaw with his thumb. “Yup.” His soft whisper was as convincing as Wilma’s yell.
“But I can fight. Isn’t this why you’ve been training me?”
“We got this now, kid. Don’t worry.”
I’d let them win this battle. We’d see what would actually go down. “Fine. Guess I’ll see you tonight.”
He glanced in my room with a grimace, not leaving.
“Ah, your room’s that way?” I waved a hand down the hall.
His fingers tapped his thigh as he looked down the hall then back into my room. “You know what? No.” He swept past me, jumping on the floating bed. “This bed’s big enough for ten people. Don’t worry, I don’t snore.”
I laughed, shutting the door. Private puke fest would definitely have to wait another night. “Whatever. I get the left side.”
We settled in, Wilma taking the middle and Farren on the right, not keeping his non-snoring promise. I grabbed her hand, holding it to my chest, needing her close. As my eyes drooped, I squeezed her fingers. “Wilma? Could you tell Tarek to…?”
She closed her eyes. “It’s already done. Relax, he’ll be along soon.” In minutes, she snored along with Farren.
And I waited.
He didn’t make me wait long. Hey, you.
Silent tears tracked my cheeks, soaking the pillow. “Hey.”
∞ ∞ ∞
None of us spoke much. There wasn’t a lot to say. Farren grunted something about getting his suit and left before I climbed off the bed. Wilma was already up, not even acknowledging him when he left as she washed her face with the basin of water on the dresser.
After all the time spent preparing for what so many others failed to do in the past, it finally hit home. Exemplar had proven it could annihilate worlds, Arcus being the poster child. In essence, our little rebellion was like an annoying ant problem. They’d spend the time exterminating us and go on about their business.
Damn, not a good mindset to have. But that thought was all that rushed through my mind as I crawled from the bed to put on my contego suit. The calm Tarek gave me today, singing a lullaby in the most off-key voice possible until I fell asleep, flaked away. Tension squeezed my heart, causing my lungs to work overtime. My lips grew numb, and if I thought lacing the pants was tough, trying to lace up that goddamned suit with fingers that shook like Jell-O was near impossible.
I tried to ask Wilma for help while she stuffed herself in her own suit, but words couldn’t make it past my tight airway. Instead, I crumbled on the nearest cushioned chair and used my eyes to plead with her.
When Wilma finished with her suit, she finally glanced in my direction. Her eyes widened before she closed them, along with her open mouth, and motioned for me to stand.
If only it were that easy.
I groped for the couch’s arm and pushed up on unsteady legs. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Her fingers were rough as they laced me up. “Well, you’re gonna do it whether you think you can or not.” The color drained from her face, making her gruff words less Wilma-like.
“What if they feel us coming?”
“These suits are Empyrean, better than what they have when turned on. Keep your suit turned on! They help deflect attention, like a static camouflage, plus those damn bullets can’t penetrate them.”
“What if they know our plan already?” Sweat poured from my skin, making the suit sticky and uncomfortable. “What if they send the authority to Arcus?”
She tightened the laces until the fabric pinched my sides. “They don’t know.”
“But what if they do?”
“They. Don’t.”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
She rolled her eyes, the laces getting tighter. “I just do.”
“But–”
“Stop. Please.”
I grabbed her hands. “So many people are gonna die tonight, Wilma.”
She bowed her head, clutching my hands. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. No “shut-up” or “quit asking questions” left her lips. Only a little sob, which she swallowed as soon as it escaped.
For some reason, as soon as her desperation reached through to my own panic, all my nerves calmed. Acid roiling in my gut settled, and the need to puke dissolved like a cloud after a storm. I slipped my hands from hers to pull her close. Sometimes I forgot she was human, too. I’d always considered her Superman’s tougher big sister.
When a few minutes past, she leaned back, a rare sad smile on her face. “I wish I could tell you everything will be fine, that this will be easy, like I used to when you were a little girl. But this–I can’t tell you that now.”
She had always wiped my tears, told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and made me a peanut butter fluff–and held me until I fell asleep. Somehow, I had awakened in my own bed and never realized how. The last year explained that well enough. But she did, you know, make everything okay. Though at that moment, she seemed helpless, and I couldn’t let her feel that way, even with fear dancing on my spine.
“You don’t have to say it, Wilma. I’m not a little girl anymore.” I brushed a stray tear from her cheek, causing more to flow from her blue eyes.
“Yes, you are. You’re my little girl, always have been.”
That almost had me blubbering on the floor.
She was right.
Clearing my throat, I moved to look in the tall mirror, watching her through it. “So, how do I look? Like an ass-kicker, right? I could totally kick some ass.”
She scrubbed her cheeks, the smile returning. The quick subject change didn’t bother her in the slightest. I could be strong for her. Hell, at that instant I could be strong for myself.
Shaking her head, Wilma stomped over, elbowing me out of the way. She situated her suit over her ample chest, pushing up her girls. “Now, this is an ass-kicker image. You look like a twelve-year-old boy.”
I laughed. No way could my ladies compete with hers. “All right, you win.”
“Damn right, I do.”
A sharp knock echoed, and Winston barged in looking lethal in his glowing green suit with all his muscles straining against the fabric. The only skin showing, his neck and hands, showed off those awesome tattoos. Man, if I were the enemy, I wouldn’t want to fuck with him. Who knew he had all that going on under those baggy clothes?
He shot me a bored glower and raised a brow as Wilma still fussed with her chest. “Don’t know if y’all got the memo, but we’re going to be fighting, not clubbing.”
Wilma rolled her eyes, giving herself a final adjustment before waving me to the door. “You try stuffing curves in tight fabric. Definitely didn’t miss these damn suits. They don’t
let me breathe.” She snuck past him like a ninja and barged down the hall, expecting us to follow.
Of course, we followed.
As we trudged to the basement room, I caught Winston sneaking glances in my direction. After about the sixth time, his little covert peep show grated my nerves. “What, damn it?”
He chuckled and nodded his head as though earbuds were permanently attached to his ears. “You ready for this, Tainted?”
No. “Of course.” I moved a couple paces ahead as we rounded the never-ending hallway. “I’ve been in plenty of wars.”
He laughed, coming up to my side. “It’ll all be over before you know it, especially with your man opening up what most of them assholes consider Hell. Chances are they’ll be on the first portal back to Exemplar before shit gets real serious.”
I worried my lip. Sounded good, but… “With everything they’ve taken from here, Exemplians will be next to invincible.” Shit. Just…shit. “They’re gonna keep on coming after this.”
He shrugged. “Guess we’ll worry about that later.”
So not what I wanted to hear.
We headed into the room, everyone wearing glowing suits except Wilma and me. Until Winston touched a spot under my right arm. The slick black fabric came to life, buzzing on my body with electricity that hummed through my skin. Felt nice, actually, like a force field or something.
“You turn this off, the bullets can come knocking on your skin, you heard?”
The second person to warn me tonight.
“Yeah, got it.”
Wilma turned her suit on, too, as she went to meet Pit at the map table, holograms blazing.
Our Protectors and a few Empyrean soldiers crowded the table talking strategy while some men were busy collecting the orbs from the cage. They molded them until the snow-globe-sized spheres were as small as pebbles and stuffed them into rows of satchels. Some were loaded into clips and locked into what looked like pistols you’d find on Star Trek or the SyFy channel.
After a quick look at Winston, who nodded toward the gun table with a half-grin, I went to pick one up. The smooth, warm metal fit perfectly in my hands. I’d never shot a gun before, and the thought of shooting one now wasn’t exactly pleasant. I went to put it down, but one of the men shook his head saying something in Empyrean.
“I-I don’t know… Do you speak Desis?” I really had to brush up on foreign languages. I didn’t have a nifty chip in my brain to translate like all the Exemplians in the room–another tidbit of information Tarek shared during our nightly one-sided talks.
Farren came into the room when the man said it a second time after I tried putting the gun back. “He said to keep it and take a satchel of ammo, too.” Farren listened again as the man spoke. “He also said to be careful with what you have. It’s all the power Empyrean has left.”
“Oh.” I slung the offered bag across my shoulder. “Thank you.”
The soldier smiled, handing off weapons to both Winston and Farren before everyone else tending to them went to dole out the only resources Empyrean had left. Winston checked his weapon before holstering it in his belt. He gave a half-salute to us before heading over to everyone else.
Farren slid his gun in the same place after giving it a little twirl around his finger.
Rolling my eyes, I turned in a circle and gave a mock bow. “Well?”
“Eh.” He waved a hand toward my torso. “Too skinny.”
“How ‘bout you bite me, ‘kay?”
He winked. “Wouldn’t want to make Tarek jealous. You might like the way I bite better.”
“Ugh, gross, Ginger.”
Laughing, he yanked me to his side. “Agreed. Listen,” he veered off to a corner and lowered his voice to a whisper, “Cara’s place isn’t far. Wilma agreed to take a route that passes by. We’ll have maybe a minute tops to check if…if she…”
I nodded when he didn’t finish. “Okay.”
Farren grabbed my gun and pointed to a small button by the trigger. “Turn off the safety and shoot.” He yanked out a clip carrying at least a hundred tiny glowing orbs then locked it back in. “And pull out and refill with the ones in your bag when empty.”
“Great. Thanks. But that still doesn’t help with my aim.”
He grinned. “Shoot real close.”
I snatched my gun. “Best instructor ever.”
“One more thing,” he tilted my chin, his face turning serious. “Those guns with the mercury bullets, they’re what we in the authority affectionately call soul-stealers. If a bullet lodges in your body, you die. Forever. No take-backs or redoes, understand?”
“Wilma told me.” I panicked. “Jesus, so if you’d have–”
“My energy would be powering a fucking toaster or something on Exemplar right now.”
My arms whipped around his waist and squeezed like the contact could erase the memory. “Avoid soul-stealers. Check.”
CARA
Fear used to be something I chased. Not fear, really, but how I reacted to it. Proof, when fight or flight kicked in, I still felt like having a go at the whole life thing. When a door off the military room opened to an underground tunnel leading into the city, I was never more positive that I craved life. Not that I had any doubts lately.
Winston and his group took off in the opposite direction, toward the fields. He said nothing to me before leaving–just gave that cocky nod and led his team. Zander hugged me, kissed my cheek, and made me promise not to be stupid.
Always hated making promises I had no intention of keeping, but whatever.
My group remained quiet, maneuvering around puddles of stagnant water and trying not to gag when it became obvious the tunnels were underground sewage passageways. Avery held a perfumed rag to her nose, which pissed me off. After I stepped in a brown puddle that smelled like ass, I put that blame directly on her shoulders, too.
“Why the scowl, kid?” Farren held my elbow, leading me away from the others. “Someone shit in your Cheerios? Or on your boots?” He pointed to my soaked hikers. It didn’t make matters better when the moisture seeped through the thin material, soaking my socks.
“I’m fine. Thinking about people who annoy me is all.” I said it loud enough for everyone to hear and emphasized with a thumb shot at exactly whom I found irritating so no one misunderstood.
Wilma snorted and said something about subtlety, while Nicolette consoled Avery, who even managed to weep annoyingly. When I glanced over, Nicolette made sure to narrow her eyes and mouth, Watch it.
Whatever.
I turned around, flying the bird behind my back. Watch this.
Farren shook his head, but smiled as we evaded the deeper slushy brown puddles. “Lighten up.”
I kicked a little muck on his boots. “Nope.”
He jumped, unsuccessfully dodging the brown sludge. “Ah! You’ll pay for that one.” He stomped his foot, the stubborn filth refusing to let go. “When you least suspect it. I’m like a shit ninja. You’ll wake up one morning with squid crap all over your face.”
I snorted, kicking a little more his way. “Sure, if I live past tonight.”
His smile disappeared as he came to a dead stop and clamped his meaty palms on my shoulders. “Stop being so goddamned doomsday, Lena.”
“I’m just saying–”
“You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”
I glanced back at Wilma because Farren’s intense eyes made me squirm. She had her arms crossed with a smirk on her face. “You’d best listen to him.”
What?
I turned to face Farren’s angry glare again. “Okay, fine. I won’t say it again. Maybe you should lighten up.”
His eyes closed, lids squeezed shut before they slowly opened, all the serious gone. One big hand drifted to my elbow, while the other dropped to his side as we continued down the tunnel. Nothing was said for a few seconds, the plop and drip of smelly condensation leaking from the walls to the ground keeping us company.
He switched his grip fro
m my elbow to clasp my hand. “I’ll never lighten up. Not when it involves your life.”
The rest of the tunnel trip remained quiet.
Wilma eventually took the lead, guiding the way with a small, oval device that gave off enough green light to blind somebody. We could’ve done without it thanks to our glowing suits. But when the orb switched to red, and she stopped to look up, the thing turned out to be a high-tech GPS.
“This is where we get off,” Wilma said.
Above our heads, the ceiling revealed a manhole cover the width of maybe Farren’s shoulders. Not too big, but enough for us to squeeze through. Black slime oozed from it, either hiding a latch or maybe eating it. From the smell polluting the tunnel, the plausibility of the crap coating the cover being alive leaned toward the high end on the more-than-likely scale.
Wilma tossed Farren the device and climbed the equally slimy iron brackets leading up to fresher air with as much stealth as a Navy Seal. Still amazed me how graceful she moved considering her…um…voluptuousness.
Any concerns about how the cover would let us free flew out the stinky crap tunnel. When she made it to the top, Wilma flicked a few fingers, and the thing shifted to the side a few inches. She listened with her eyes closed a few minutes before waving at Farren. She then used her skills to move the cover the rest of the way. Before Farren began to climb, Wilma had already squeezed through the opening, disappearing from sight.
He latched onto the brackets, the squishy sound of skin touching slime as cringe inducing as grinding teeth. He took a few steps upward and glanced down to Nicolette. “You next. We’ll make sure it’s clear before these two come up.”
“Got it.” She guided Avery to stand next to me.
We watched them disappear, the awkward tension as thick as the shit smell that would forever stain my nose hairs.
“I am so sorry, Lena.” Avery’s soft voice snaked through the filth.
Breathing deep through my nose–and gagging because, you know, shit–I shook my head, still focused on the opening, and hoped for cleaner air. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, I do. When I came to you…” She paused. “I should have never…” She didn’t finish.