The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation

by Pritchard, M. R.

  “Probably. I just worry what else will happen when we get back.”

  “Me too. Things will never go back to normal, I know, but I would just like them to remain at a constant.”

  He stretches his arm behind me and gives me a brotherly hug. “That would be great,” he tells me.

  We sit in silence for a moment, listening to the hum of the train.

  “Do you remember that girl I was dating in High School? She had red hair. Jessica?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “I think that was the longest relationship you were ever in.”

  He pinches my shoulder. “Stop!” I swat at his hand. “Admit it. You went through girls faster than Lina went through diapers.”

  “I know,” he says with a smile. “I just wonder where she is, what she’s doing now.” He stops. We both know what question comes next. I wonder if she’s still alive, if she survived the bombings.

  “You lonely, Sam?”

  As I feel him shrug next to me, I remember the promise I made Blithe.

  “I have a secret to tell you, Sam.”

  “Hmm. That’s not really a surprise.”

  “Blithe has a crush on you,” I tell him bluntly. I feel him stiffen a little. “And there’s more.”

  “Okay.”

  “Blithe has been writing reports on the children and sending them to Crane. She’s the one writing to Crane about Raven not meeting his milestones. I asked her to change them.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she would, but in return she wants me to pair you two together.”

  I feel his body soften this time. “So you’re going to pimp me out, is that it?”

  “I kinda told her I would. You know what Crane said about Raven. So what do you think? She’s pretty, and smart, and tall, like you.”

  “Don’t you have to double-check our genetic makeup in your computer programs?”

  “Not anymore. Not with Crane out of the picture. Actually, I guess none of this matters with Crane out of the picture. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Well-” Sam is interrupted by the lurching of the train, the kind of forcing lurch that is only made when something moving at a high speed makes impact with something else that is standing still.

  Sam grabs my arm as the force knocks me out of my seat. But since he’s being tossed out of the seat too, he doesn’t stop me. We both land on the floor with a heavy thud. There’s another thud from the sleeping bunks, combined with the sharp squeal of the train pushing against something. Sam crawls forward to the controls and pulls the train to a stop.

  “What just happened?” I ask, pulling myself to my feet.

  “I think we hit something.” Sam walks towards a bench on the other side of the car and, lifting the bench seat, he pulls out a shotgun and a fully loaded magazine for the handgun on his hip.

  I hear Tim’s footsteps as he stumbles out of the sleeping area. Even in the dim light I can see he’s holding his hand to his head and a trickle of blood streams down his face. “Think y’all hit something,” he mumbles.

  “Take care of him, Andie.” Sam tells me in a hurry. “I’ll go see what happened.”

  Sam heads for the door, one of the Guardians at his heels, following him outside. The others stay and watch the door as Sam closes it.

  I guide Tim towards the light. “What did you hit your head on?”

  “Not sure,” he mumbles, pulling his palm away from his temple. Blood streams down his face.

  I take Tim’s hand and move it back to his head. “Sit down and keep pressure on that. I’ll be right back.”

  I run to the bunks, pushing the door open to the first one I come to. I grab a pillow off of the bed and strip the pillowcase off of it. Next I grab the sheet, rolling it into a ball and shoving it under my arm. The fabric is thin enough to rip into bandages. Running back to where Tim is sitting, I rip the seams of the fabric. I kneel down, ripping the sheet to make a bandage to soak up the blood.

  “Here,” I pull Tim’s hand away from his head to place the folded fabric in his hand. He stares at his palm, dripping in blood. His face pales. “It looks worse than it is. Head wounds bleed like crazy.” I tell him, moving his arm to press clean fabric to the gash on his temple.

  “Should check on them horses,” Tim mumbles to me.

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” I tell him as I move his hand and replace the saturated strip of sheet with a fresh one. I take one of the long strips and fashion it around his head, holding the makeshift bandage in place.

  Wiping my hands off, I look at the door. The three Guardians stare at the exit. I pull the cell phone out of my pocket, my arms shaking, and flip it open, wishing I could call for help. The screen is black. If there was anyone I could call, the phone is dead and it’s no use to me now. I set it on the bench and walk towards the door.

  “Stay here,” I tell Tim. “I’m going to check on Sam.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, squinting to look out the windows in the dark.

  “Probably not.”

  I step out of the door and into the night.

  chapter eighteen

  “Sam?” I ask, stepping out of the train. The Guardians push their way ahead of me. I lock Tim inside and wait a moment for my eyes to focus in the darkness.

  The Guardian that followed Sam barks. I head towards the sound, the three remaining Guardians walk by my side, each emitting a low growl. Hearing a rustle from in front of the tracks, my heartbeat picks up, and the hairs rise on my arms. Just as the rustling stops, I notice Sam’s Guardian standing a hundred feet from me on the tracks, facing the dark woods, growling.

  “Sam?” I ask louder, picking up my pace to investigate what the Guardian is growling at.

  There is a loud popping sound followed by the whine of the Guardian in front of me. I rush towards it, bending down as the Guardian slinks to the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper to the dog, rubbing my hand over the Guardian’s thick coat. When I get to its shoulder I feel something wet and sticky. Just as I pull my hand away, focusing in the moonlight, I realize the substance is blood.

  Something is wrong, terribly wrong.

  Three more popping sounds rip through the night, followed by the thud of the three Guardians near me dropping to the ground. A hard shiver runs down my back, an internal warning to get the heck out of here. But I can’t go without my brother.

  “Sam!” I shout into the night, standing to my feet. “Sam, where are y-”

  Before I can finish, I hear the crunch of gravel under a boot. The soft settling of a thoughtfully placed foot on the ground behind me quiets me, and before I get a chance to turn around, or think to run, I’m pushed down, and a boot is placed firmly in the middle of my back holding me forcefully against the ground. A rough, musty smelling fabric is placed over my head as I try to look around. A rough hand draws my wrists together behind my back and I can feel them winding a rough rope around my left wrist.

  They pause before tying my right wrist, twisting it to get a better look at the mark there. The click of a flashlight and a rough finger running over the skin of my wrist comes next.

  “Holy shit,” I hear.

  “What?” a forceful voice asks.

  “It’s her.”

  “Who?”

  “That Sovereign one from Phoenix. Be a pity when they find out she’s lost.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Look at her wrist. She’s the only female one in that Phoenix District.”

  A rough hand twists my arm. “That’s a damn prize. Let’s go.”

  I hear the groans of men as they pull me up by my arms. Twisting at the waist, I try to pull my shoulders out of their grasp. Large hands settle on my shoulders, holding me in place.

  “Let me go,” I shout through the fabric.

  One of them laughs. “This one’s feisty,” another voice says from behind me.

  “Sam!” I yell through the fabric. “Tim!”

  “That
’s enough,” a deep, soft voice says.

  “What are you doing? What do you want?” I ask.

  That voice doesn’t respond. Instead, hands move my shoulders and give a gentle push, or maybe a pull, either way, I walk. It’s not long before I hear the excited whinny from the horses. They’ve brought me back to the train.

  “Don’t open that door,” the deep voice next to me instructs.

  “They have horses,” one of the other men states.

  “What else is on the train?” the deep voice next to me asks.

  I think to lie. I don’t want them to know that the train is fully loaded with an arsenal of weapons. That would be valuable to these people. But maybe, maybe they would let me go if I told them.

  The large hand squeezes my shoulder, promising pain if I don’t answer. “There’s horses,” I say, feeling my voice shake.

  “What else?” Fingertips press crudely into the sensitive area between my clavicle and shoulder.

  I pause, biting my lip in an effort to calm myself and focus. “You can take it,” I tell him. “Take it all, just… just let us go,” I plead.

  “What else?” he asks, his voice gaining an edge.

  “Let me go. Let us go. You can have it all,” I beg, knowing that giving up the horses and the weapons would put Phoenix at an extreme disadvantage should the Survivors make it past our walls.

  “I can make her talk,” one of the other men says. I can almost hear him smiling as he speaks.

  “She’s not to be damaged,” the deep voice says as his fingertips sink deeper into my skin. I bite my lip harder. My knee seems to bend on its own, trying to draw my shoulder away from his painful pressure. It doesn’t work.

  “There’s horses,” I finally tell them. “And… and guns.”

  The hand leaves my shoulder and I can feel the cool night air blow around me as the warm bodies of the men walk away. The doors of the train cars slide open. The horses stomp. A crate is being dragged. I move my feet, testing my limits. No one stops me. There is the scraping sound of another crate, followed by the sound of wood being stressed and cracked. They must be trying to pry open the crates.

  Stepping to the side, my feet hit something hard. I tap around with my toes feeling what can only be the metal rails of the train track, knowing that the forest is behind me, I back up until I hear something, the sound of someone breathing heavily near me. Not right next to me, but close enough for me to hear them. Knowing that the men are sifting through our guns, it can only be one person.

  “Sam?” I ask.

  “Andie?” I hear Sam’s muffled voice.

  “Where are you?” I ask over the sound of the men dragging the crates. Shaking my head, I try to loosen the bag.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see,” Sam replies.

  “Me either. What do we do, Sam? They killed the Guardians. All of them.”

  “Run, Andie.” Sam tells me firmly. “Get out of here. Did you see who they are?”

  “No. I didn’t see anything. It was dark, they knocked me down from behind.”

  “It’s a group of Survivors. You need to run. They’ll kill us!”

  “But… They tied my wrists. Sam, I can’t-”

  “Go hide in the woods. It’s dark enough, they won’t find you. Run and hide.”

  I can’t think of anything worse than being in the woods at night with my head covered and my wrists bound, alone. “I can’t leave you, Sam.”

  “Go. Now. Before they are done pilfering the weapons. When you get yourself free just follow the tracks back to Phoenix.”

  “How far away are we?” I hear Sam moving closer to me.

  “Probably somewhere near Pennsylvania.”

  It will take me forever to get home from here. And with no supplies I might just die trying. Especially if I run into any more Survivors.

  “Go, Andie!” Sam urges, knocking his shoulder into me. It’s enough to almost knock me off of my feet.

  “No. I can’t leave you.”

  “You have to. Now go!”

  “Sam…”

  “Go. That’s an order.” He bumps into me again, harder this time.

  “Okay… okay.”

  I turn and walk at a hesitant pace, afraid to run since my balance is off having my arms secured behind me. I’m also afraid that I’ll run face first into a tree and knock myself out. Shrubs catch on my ankles, my shoulder scrapes against a tree trunk. The sound of the gun crates scraping across the floor of the train car lessen behind me.

  I count the trees as I brush by them or smack into them. When I pass seven trees the scraping sound stops. It’s followed by shouting. They must be yelling at Sam. I walk faster, a near-running pace. A low branch slaps my face. If I could just see, I need this bag off my head. I shake my head trying to loosen the fabric. The men yell louder. Then the worst sound fills the night, the popping sound of one of the handguns. I drop to the ground. After a few moments of silence and rapid heartbeats, I roll slightly, trying to get further away or find something to hide behind. Feeling a tree at my feet, I scoot down and prop myself against it.

  I wait, crouched on the ground behind the tree trunk. The base of the tree poking at my back sharply gives me an idea. Using the sharp nub of the tree trunk I rub my head until I feel it catch on the fabric that’s covering my face. Lowering myself until I’m flat on the ground again, I work the bag off my head. And then, just like that, it’s off. I take a deep breath, letting my eyes adjust to the night. There are a few slivers of moonlight filtering down between the leaves of the trees. Sitting up, I look around, seeing the stretch of forest in front of me. I turn, peeking around the side of the tree trunk that’s barely thick enough to conceal me. I can see motion and it looks like I’m barely ten yards from them. I can hear Sam’s voice but not what he’s saying. I also hear the voices of the others. My heart is pounding, my head thudding right along. Sam told me to run and now I need to.

  I push myself up, using the tree as a support until I’m standing. And then, taking one last glance behind me, I run deeper into the woods. Twigs snap under my boots. Branches scratch at my arms and legs. Having the bag off of my head isn’t much better considering the dark night. And since my wrists are still bound, my balance is still off.

  When I’m far enough away that I can’t hear them any longer, I slow myself, afraid of getting too far from the tracks, knowing that they can help me get home. Veering to the right, I start running again at a slower pace. More twigs break. The leaves rustle and crunch under my feet. My breathing is too heavy and I’m making too much noise. I slow myself to a stop, twist my wrists trying to loosen the rope. The movement makes the rough ties dig into my skin harder. I walk, twisting and pulling the rope, trying to break free. As I’m standing there, struggling to free myself, I feel a sharp ping on the side of my head. The object hits me so hard that I’m certain I hear a hollow knock when it connects with my skull. This is followed by a bright explosion of light behind my eyes and pain and the feeling of my body dropping to the forest floor.

  --

  My world has shifted.

  It is daytime and I am no longer standing in the dark forest but hanging over something incredibly warm, covered in rough hair, and moving. I can still feel the rope around my wrists. But instead of being tied behind me, they are now hanging over my head, which throbs. I slowly open my eyes to find myself staring at the flank of a horse.

  This is an uncomfortable position.

  I move my arms, propping myself up on my elbows and trying to stop my body from bouncing off of the horse’s side with each step it takes. I soon realize that up is nothing more than parallel to the ground. My stomach churns.

  “Hold up,” I hear a deep male voice shout.

  A pair of dirty boots step into my view. I look up, following the height of the form in front of me, stopping at his face. He frowns at me. His hair is dark blonde and long enough that it’s pulled into a ponytail. He has gray eyes and a thick beard that covers his face. “You ready to behave?�
�� he asks with the same deep, soft voice I’ve heard in the dark.

  Since I don’t have many other options, I nod my head yes.

  He reaches forward and, grabbing me under my shoulders, he pulls me off of the horse’s back. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of him. He’s tall. But then, so are most people compared to me. He wears relatively clean clothes: jeans, boots, a T-shirt with a light jacket over it. He doesn’t look like the vicious Survivors described to me. He looks…normal.

  “You’re Andromeda?” he asks me.

  I nod to him.

  “I’m Mack.” He raises his hand to point behind us, down a path lined with tall grass. “We have someone who wants to meet you.”

  “What did you do with my brother and Tim?” I ask the man named Mack.

  “We let them go. They started their train and left.”

  “You’re lying to me. What did you do with them?”

  “I have no reason to lie to you.” Mack scowls down at me.

  I stare at him, still waiting for an answer.

  “What do you think we are, barbarians?” he asks with a smile that shows a deep dimple in his chin even through the beard.

  “You didn’t let me go,” I glare at him.

  “Can’t do that. You’re important to them.”

  “What about the horses and the weapons?” I ask.

  “Stashed them. We’ll send a team back to get them later.”

  “So where are you taking me?” I ask, looking around. We are stopped on a path that cuts through a field of tall grass. Further away a forest surrounds us. There’s no sign of the train tracks I was supposed to follow home. I can barely control the tremble that rolls through my body as I begin to understand the predicament I am in. Crane will not be happy with this. And most likely he will make Sam pay for losing me.

  “You don’t need to know,” Mack tells me.

  “You don’t understand,” I tell him. “Crane will kill them for losing me.” I shake my bound arms, feeling the tears swelling behind my eyes. I have no control over this situation at all. Nothing to bargain with and no visible escape. This feeling is terrible. I begin to take short stuttered breaths. “I can’t be here,” I tell Mack, panicking. “I can’t be here. I have children, a husband. I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. You don’t know what he’ll do to us!””