I decide not to move very far away from the door, so I don’t lose my grip on reality and my bearings on where my exit is.
Raising my bow, I look down my line of sight, seeing the things before me differently through just my left eye.
I remember when Darria taught me how to shoot, though he was Darren back then. We both shot at cans out the back of my grandparents’ house; they had a lot of land, so it didn’t matter if I missed.
I had so much fun that day, getting better and better with every shot I took. Making my uncle proud, that was the one thing that mattered to me.
Little did I know only a short year later my uncle was going to betray me and ruin all of the trust I gave to him.
I was a little over seven when Darria taught me to shoot a crossbow. He explained that it was to protect me from the evil people of the world. It did just that once he was gone.
I fire off a shot into a tree ten metres away.
I remember the emptiness I felt the day I left my mother, the feeling of hopelessness, that anything would be better than seeing my mother in so much pain and refusing to do anything to stop it.
I fire off another arrow and it splinters through the first one, hitting the exact same spot.
It is unfair of them, it is so very unfair that they would leave me in the dark for so long, not knowing who my father is. It felt like I didn’t know half of myself. And now, telling me that my father is in fact the man who Darria has had me kidnapped and recruited to help him kill.
Another arrow leaves my crossbow without me realising that I’ve pulled the trigger, but it still hits my target. I watch as my second arrow is split and it falls in a mess of woodchips to the ground.
My father is a man who wants to rule this world, with his brother, and maybe Darria? Why was he so determined to have Darria on side in the early days? What had they accomplished together? And what did Caden have planned that was still to come?
I lower the bow from my shoulder and allow my eyes a break from the concentration required to shoot.
And what did Darria mean when he said to my mother, ‘We had to get the baby out—I didn’t want to lose you like the others.’
What others? Did Darria deliver babies as part of his everyday life back then? And how many did he mean by the others?
I need Darria to answer me; I need to know what it is that has caused this war between Darria and Caden. It can’t just be the simple fact of Darria wanting to protect me and get back at Caden for my mother.
There has to be something more. There have to be answers. And if he ever wants me to trust him enough to help him kill my father, he’d better answer.
Nate
Back at square one, though I always feel six steps behind here.
When did we agree to start fighting for them and stop fighting for ourselves? I can’t recall a time where I ever thought this is where I could end up.
Hermia stands to my right, next to me on the precipice of their world and ours, though I don’t know which is which anymore. We stand in the house above Base, lining the walls of the hallway that lead to the front door, waiting to be let out.
The only thing that tells me Hermia is afraid is the quick bursts of breath she is letting out. Everyone else is off to my left—well, the other six of us.
We are all afraid; none of us know if we will make it back or not. I watch everyone with their weapons, just toying with them out of anticipation or checking their ammo. We are all changed now; we are fighters, as much as we don’t wish to fight.
Rence stands behind the front door and looks out of the peephole that sits within the hard wood of the door. Then we are moving; Rence has opened the door and is leading us out, into the world, into the battlefield.
Hermia
Somehow I know this time is going to be bad. Probably because they are only sending us out with three keepers. They have never sent us out with so few. So they either think we have become more obedient or that half of us won’t be coming back.
We are at another safe house that is closer to the industrial area than Base. We stand in what I believe is a garage, with terrible fluorescent lights that I am too used to now. Rence said we are to have a briefing with Darria and then head out.
I have never been so worried about being let out, but what adds to it is the way Chase looked at me this morning when I passed him in the hall on my way up here.
His face was so filled with concern. I gave him a worried look back, though he probably misread it as my fear of the situation, not my fear of him.
Darria stands before us now, looking over us as though he is both surveying his forces and mourning a loss. He wears a dark black coat that falls to his mid-calf. It makes his black hair look even more striking, and his light eyes seem endless. I can almost see the power in him, and it almost makes me forget to hate him for a moment.
‘I know the past week has been hard on you all,’ he says. ‘But this is of the utmost importance. We are sending you out for one last surveillance of the area surrounding the city.’
His face instantly turns a different kind of serious.
‘If you achieve our goal of finding our adversaries’ base, the war will be on its way to being won, and some of you will be able to go home.’
I hear a breath catch and see from the corner of my eye that it is Georgie. I have never seen Georgie as happy as I saw her in that photograph of her and her family. I understand why she would be excited to get back to them.
I catch a glimpse of Isaac; his hands shake so violently the friction they’re creating could start a fire. He stands next to Kane, who is still has a cast and boot on to protect his foot and leg that aren’t healing quite right. I suppose Kane gets a free ticket out without having to come out with us. Best thing about being damaged goods.
Darria stands a little straighter and then gives a curt nod.
‘Good luck,’ he says.
He catches my eye for a split second, and I see in them a fear I hope does not match my own. He is terrified for me, because he can’t be for himself. Maybe he is scared about the conversation we will have when I get back. If I get back.
The second is over and Darria’s eyes are gone from mine. He nods again, finished now, and walks away.
This is it. This is the moment where I choose if my life is worth this fight or not. Because if I go out there with any hesitation, I know I will die.
The War
Nate
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
As long as I keep repeating the words, maybe I can escape my reality a moment longer.
Damn it. Damn it.
My gun is jammed and there are people everywhere. The same people with the black masks and clothes who want to kill me, who are the enemy, who are our true enemy. The Cain.
Where the hell is Josh? is my second thought, but I can’t afford to depend on him now.
My hands move quickly over the smooth sides of the gun, trying to unclip the magazine. I fumble, and it is a second wasted I really needed the use of; every second used is a second wasted.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
My knees bend and I crouch down, trying to regain some cover. I look over the gun and feel my heart pound in my ears.
I finally get it unclipped and smash the small metal box against my palm, then between my palm and the slot of the gun. I fit it back on and stand ready to shoot. When I hear a gun cock, I hear every tiny movement, from the two sides of the metal scraping against each other, to the bullet sliding into the chamber.
I slowly turn my head to see a black-masked figure standing right in front of me.
They are smaller than me, but that only makes the gun pointed up at me seem more menacing, because I know they are more inclined to use it.
I expect to see my life flash before my eyes, or something of that magnitude. But it doesn’t. I can’t even think of my own name in this moment. I just keep thinking, This isn’t the way I’m supposed to die.
I now see it is a girl, and she can’t be any older than me. She has millions of tiny flyaway hairs that fall out from where her hair is tied back; they look a brilliant gold in the light. Her eyes are a deep-set green, almost hazel, and they flicker over my face as though she is trying to determine who I am. Her features are small, especially her nose, tiny and button-shaped.
I come back to reality and realise she has a gun pointed directly at my heart, but somehow my pulse isn’t racing as it should.
The girl pulls the gun back away from my chest, though she still stares at me.
‘This way,’ she says, but she doesn’t move.
I feel a sharp pain my wrist, and as my gun flies from my hand I realise this girl has just kicked it out of my grasp. It seems I am in a lot more trouble than I first thought, and I always knew I was in a lot of trouble.
Hermia
We are separated from the group, Georgie and I. I don’t know how I got stuck with her, but I know it must be my bad karma catching up with me. We are stuck down another random alleyway between two high-walled abandoned buildings.
I try to keep the orb from showing its light. They will find me if they see it. They will kill me if they find me.
Georgie sits with her hands wrapped tight around her head; the contrast of her dark brown hair against her white skin makes her seem all the more washed out, and somehow all the more sad.
She rocks back and forth, in a slow, steady rhythm, as though she is counting each move she makes—then again, maybe she is.
I hear a sudden burst of gunfire at the end of the alleyway.
I bend down to cover Georgie with my body. I secure the orb in an inside pocket of my jacket, and take her face in my hands.
‘We need to get you home,’ I say as the shots begin to dwindle.
Georgie looks at me as though I have just woken her from a dream, confused as to what is fantasy and what is reality.
‘We need to get you back to your sister.’
Now she looks startled. Georgie has never mentioned her sister to anyone. I only know of her because of the picture I saw in her room.
‘You miss her, I know. But the only way you’re ever going to see her again is if we do this, okay.’
Georgie still looks stricken; her brow is pulled together and her eyes rush around like scurrying bugs at twilight.
But she soon obeys, lifting herself slowly, and I help her the rest of the way. I hate it that she is so like a rag doll.
As soon as she is standing, I try to give her a helpful smile, though I doubt it is helpful at all.
Georgie doesn’t reciprocate. She looks serious and thoughtful.
‘My family’s dead,’ she tells me. There is no pain her voice, as there usually is. No sullen, broken pitch to it. I start to doubt whether or not this is truly Georgie I am speaking with. ‘They were in the Justice building when it came down. I found out who was responsible, an organisation run by two men named Caden and Blake.’ I can’t help but feel a pang in my chest. What would Georgie think of me if she knew that Caden was my father, and Blake was Nate’s?
‘That’s why I joined.’ Georgie looks me right in the eye.
My mouth opens involuntarily.
‘Joined?’
Georgie nods.
‘I don’t really think I’m cut out for it now, though.’
She gives a slow smile and I wonder where this person came from.
My head turns instinctively to a harsh wail, a man’s wail, coming from the end of the alleyway.
Georgie moves as though she is heading towards the distressed man, whoever that man may be; I can’t make out who it is.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask her, grabbing her arm and holding her back.
Georgie looks at me like I’ve gone mad.
‘We need to help.’
Then she pulls herself from my grasp and heads towards the opening of the alley.
When we reach the point where the light hits us, I feel myself keep moving forward, as though I am pulled towards whatever it is that is happening that I can’t see.
I round the corner and see the situation in front of me.
President Collins is on his knees, and his head is within a man’s grasp as he stands above him, holding a knife to Collins’ throat.
I hear Georgie gasp, and the man holding the president’s head looks up at the sound.
I feel myself breathe in as I absorb the magnitude of this moment. Standing before me is Caden. With the same dark blond hair and green eyes, he looks older than he did in Darria’s memories, but the rest of him is exactly the same.
He is looking at me as though he can’t believe he is seeing what he is seeing. As though I am a long lost friend he is reunited with. I wait for the rage to hit me, but it doesn’t.
I can hear Collins is softly weeping. I look down to him and see that his face is covered in tears and snot.
‘Please,’ Collins says the word and I feel like he is speaking to me, asking me to save him.
I move my hand back, continually thinking of how many movements I will need to make to ensure that I can get my crossbow into my hand and fire.
I see the red line appear on Collins neck and I know I’m too late.
Collins falls and Caden assists him by pushing his body away from his own. Then he moves past the man who was once the President of Quay, who is now bleeding out from a slice to some pretty important arteries in his neck. His body spasms as the blood seeps into the gravel beneath him.
I feel a tug on my arm and realise Georgie is pulling me away. Caden doesn’t drop his gaze on me, as though he is keeping me prisoner with his eyes on mine. As we round the corner I am finally freed from Caden, momentarily.
Nate
I remember researching the term prisoner of war for my history class. Now, please, whatever you do, never research that subject unless some hellish teacher makes you.
Right now all I can think of is that I am going to be a prisoner of a war I don’t even want to fight in. This isn’t my war. I don’t want this to be my war. I don’t want to kill people in order to live.
We are downtown now, in among some of the old abandoned factories. I am pushed forward into the building we have been trying to get to all day. It is such a beautiful structure, I would never expect this to be the place that Blake and Caden are hiding out in.
The girl pushes her gun into my right shoulderblade and directs me to go left.
I am pushed into a long room with high stained-glass windows, most of which are broken. Stained glass is an ancient feature rarely seen nowadays, but the light sheen of caked dust in which they are coated is very common.
The girl pushes me forward until we reach the only object in the room, a simple wooden chair.
‘Sit,’ she orders and my fears are realised.
As I hesitate, a loud smack rings out and I feel a searing pain in the back of my neck. She has hit me with the butt of her gun and I am almost glad of the chair now; the room spins a lot less once I’m seated.
I sit there and try to make it look like she really hurt me—I mean, it did hurt, but I’m kind of milking it. If she wants to think I’m helpless, I’m not going to correct her.
A door opens at the end of the room and I lift my head.
When I see who it is, I can’t take my eyes off him.
He has my build, the angles of my face, my kind smile, even my walk. His eyes are darker green, but this is definitely my father.
‘Hello, Nathaniel—I am Blake.’
He speaks as though from out of a fantasy. As though I have met him before, in a dream.
When a minute passes and I say nothing he continues.
‘I just wanted to let you know—’
‘That you’re my father.’ I answer him before he can get the satisfaction of thinking he is the one to tell me.
A look of surprise flashes o
ver his face.
‘You know?’
I feel my face pull into a half-smile as I think of what I’m going to say next.
‘I also know you’re an arsehole.’
Blake does not look as entertained as I do.
My right ear starts ringing even before I realise that the girl behind me has let off a shot right next to my ear. There is a large circular mark on the floor with a small bullet hole in the middle of it that is smoking ever so slightly; the gun she is holding must be some kind of rifle.
The whole right side of my body feels weak.
‘Pat!’ It sounds as though someone is yelling into a pillow from far away. ‘I need him able to hear!’
I can feel my ear starting to open up again; sounds start coming back in gurgles and then my hearing is almost back to normal.
‘ Was that truly necessary?’ I turn and spit my words at the girl called Pat.
‘Have some respect,’ she says.
That’s her argument? Seriously?
‘Well, you are obviously in need of a father figure,’ I tell her. ‘And you’re welcome to him.’
I watch anger spread across her face and then the barrel of her gun rises in the air. It is about to hit me in the face when another voice calls, ‘Patricia!’
We both turn and see a new figure approach.
It is strange—Hermia said that she has never even met her father, yet she is so like him it is hard to believe. Hermia is an exact mix of Caden and Darria, who probably looks a lot like Hermia’s mother. ‘Please don’t kill Nate just yet.’
Both the brothers speak with a weird accent, as though they are the only two people from some secret country somewhere off in the old world.
Then I realise he said ‘just yet’. Shit.
‘Well, before you kill me, do you mind telling me why you dragged it out so much?’
The words surprise even me. I am usually not nearly so forward. Usually I would just keep my mouth shut and wait for whatever is left to come. But somehow knowing this may be the end makes me speak up.
Enmity Page 21