“Sorry, nothing,” I say. “Nothing,” I repeat louder to the rest of the group. Turning back towards Ben, I explain, “Reuben asked me to grab the tablet from your pack.”
Ben slides the pack from his back and pulls the matte black tablet out, handing it over to me. “What are you doing?” he asks and motions for everyone to stop as I initialize the application. I tap feverishly on the glass screen—patience is not something I was blessed with. As if the tablet recognizes that my day has been rather stressful and doesn’t wish to keep me waiting, the screen instantly illuminates and President Cain’s face lights up the small dingy tunnel. His pale blue eyes sink into his nearly transparent sagging skin.
“Miss Quill and her companions are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. The Council requests your help in locating them and bringing Miss Quill to justice for the murder of a fellow classmate late last night.” A picture of Dante appears on the screen. His perfectly combed hair and charismatic grin concealing the pretentious monster I know him to be. “It is believed that Miss Quill broke into the young man’s house after stalking him for several weeks. An altercation broke out resulting in the death of the talented young man. There is a reward of 10 million notes for the capture of Miss Quill and a reward of 1 million notes for any of her traveling companions. Please do not engage the fugitives but rather contact local authorities with any information you may have. This young, disturbed woman has harmed one of our citizens, one of you. And the Council takes the safety of our people to the highest of concerns. Quill is now an enemy of our state and will be treated as such. Anyone caught aiding her will be immediately sentenced to life in a labor camp.” President Cain stares directly into the camera. “Miss Quill, if you are hearing this, please turn yourself in and stop hurting those around you.” He pauses. “God bless New Utah and God Bless you all.”
The screen goes black except for white letters reading: End of Transmission. Abel wraps his arm around me. “We were prepared for this, and we’ve never had plans of returning. This doesn’t change anything. We always knew that he was Aliah's pawn,” he says.
I close my eyes and concentrate on my breath. I’m an enemy of the state, the words turn and claw at my soul. How did I get here? How did it get so bad so fast? Apparently, those around me, the Tylins that have taken me in, my people, planned on never returning but the idea of never coming back had never crossed my mind. This is my home. This has always been my home and now a man whom I’ve never met has made it so that I can never return. Aliah. His name circles my thoughts and I try to piece together what he may look like, desperately trying to put a face to the person who has up to this point dictated my life and continues to poison the minds of people who without his influence may be completely different than they are today. Without Aliah, this world may actually have a chance and it is with that thought that I realize that either he or I will perish, that we can’t hope to live symbiotically and that any idea of compromise is out of the question. I push the speech out of my mind and Abel’s hand clasps mine in the darkness, bringing me back to reality. I begin walking again.
A pinpoint of light breaches the darkness of the tunnel and I know we are nearing no man’s land. “What happens once we’re out of the city?” I ask Eliath—Eliath who has been quiet for the vast majority of our time on the lam. I’m sure that there is unsettled business between the two of us. I can imagine that he is just waiting until we’re safe to tear into me and spit out some lecture about the harms of being impulsive. Actually, if I have learned anything about this man, it is that he is patient and that he has probably been mentally concocting said lecture for the past 15 hours.
“We’re heading for a safe house in the exiled area, it’s far enough into the beyond that we should be okay resting up and regrouping there for a night. From there we’ll hop a private train that runs the length of the continent.”
“A private train?” I ask. I wasn’t aware that trains were still a utilized technology, and I sure as hell was not aware of anyone who could afford to run a private train that runs the length of the continent.
Eliath doesn’t engage with my perplexed behavior, and instead completely ignores the question and continues. “After which, we’ll take a boat of sorts to Elaysia.”
If he thinks that I am the type of person to be kept in the dark, he is wrong. I push past him and hold steady in his path, narrowing my eyes at him in the dim tunnel. “Where are we going?” My question comes off more as a command than a question and he runs his tongue across his teeth underneath his lips. I know he is irritated but honestly, this is my life, and I don’t care if my questions are inconveniencing him or throwing off our time table.
“It’s where you’re from. We’re taking you home. We’ll be safe there. More importantly, you’ll be safe there. And we’ll be able to formulate what comes next.”
They’re taking me home? How has the thought of my birthplace never crossed my mind? I’m starting to think that I may be absolutely incapable of aligning my priorities correctly and am constantly being bombarded with surprises that really shouldn’t be surprising at all. Eliath’s jaw shifts and though I doubt any Plebs could notice in this light, I know Abel did and I know what it means: the simplest gesture directing me to literally and physically get in line.
I fall back behind him and continue walking down the damp tunnel, the proverbial light materializing and expanding beyond. As we approach the opening I take Max’s free arm and stop him too abruptly and a whine escapes his closed mouth. I look down at Max now kneeling on one knee. “Sorry,” I say. I’m failing miserably at this big sister thing and I wonder if he notices. I tighten the wraps on his arms and make sure the bones are firmly secured. “This is going to hurt like hell, but I need you to run as fast as you can, and no matter what, do not stop until I tell you to.” I tilt his chin up so that his eyes meet mine. “Do you understand?” I ask, and he nods.
As Ben begins to instruct the group on next steps, I walk over to Abel and take his hand in mine, letting them dangle together at our sides. “I don’t care what Reuben says, don’t let anything happen to Max,” I tell him.
“I won’t. I know you’d burn it all down if anything with him went sideways.” He releases my hand and nudges me forward.
Burn it all down. He’s right, I would. And I smile considering the fact that he may know be better than I know myself.
“Okay, does anyone have any questions?” Ben asks.
“Yeah, who’s buying drinks after this?” Issachar chimes and the group takes a much needed collective laugh.
“That would be me.” Eliath smirks, arms crossed as he leans against the tunnel wall. His disposition is much more lax than I’ve encountered before. His shirt, which under normal circumstance would be freshly pressed and a brilliant white is now harshly wrinkled and dingy. His golden hair continually falls from in his face and he is constantly brushing the strands back struggling to keeps them near his ears. In a way, it’s strangely refreshing. He almost seems human.
The group disperses and goes through one more check of equipment, making certain they’re ready for the sprint. I kneel down and tie Max’s shoes. His laces are constantly coming undone and if he were to fall behind from something so silly, I’d hate myself forever. I tie them once and then I tie them again for no other reason than in times of stress I become increasingly anal-retentive and neurotic.
“Cate, may I have a moment?” Eliath’s voice is deep and booming in the close space and rattles my already raw nerves. I stand and rustle my fingers through Max’s hair, then walk back into the darkness of the concrete cylinder. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
Seriously? Is actually asking me this? The fact that I’ve bitten my nails to the point that the skin around them is red and bleeding should answer that question easily enough. “Honestly, I’m having trouble keeping air in my lungs and feel like I may either pass out or hyperventilate at any moment.” I laugh nervously and he smiles, placing a hand on my shoulder.
> “You can do this, Cate. I know you may not remember, but you have been through far worse than what’s about to occur.” His attempt to put me at ease falls painfully short and my curiosity perks up.
“How do you know? How do you know that we’re going to make it through the next twenty minutes?”
His stare is unwavering. “I don’t,” he admits, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. “But I do have faith that whatever is about to transpire, whatever the next twenty minutes has in store for us, the outcome will be exactly what it is supposed to be. And that if things don’t go our way, it won’t be for lack of trying. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you.” He smiles and before I can respond he walks back to the tunnel opening. I wish I were the type of person that took compliments well, that I could easily express gratitude and affection, but I’m not, so though I am grateful for his sentiment, I’m also grateful that he doesn’t wait for a response.
I lean against the wall for a moment and wish Sophie were here so that I could take a puff or 90 of her inhaler. I knock at a pebble with my boot, staring at it as it becomes buried in dusty dirt. And then like sometimes in life, my body takes over and I lean down and pick up the pebble and wipe the dirt off with my thumb. At first I think it’s black but when rays of sun hit the stone, deep red flecks shimmer. It’s then that the cage in my room etched with the words “remember your humanity” enters my mind. The world around me disappears as I realize that each pebble in the cage represents a life taken at my hand. So many lives, so much destruction. How can this go on much longer? It can’t. For now, I will be that girl, that girl who hurts and kills and does terrible things to protect the ones she loves. I will be this girl for them, I will be her, I will embrace it and I will give that to them. But it cannot last forever, because I cannot carry the burden of death on my own forever. At some point I will need to return to the girl I am suppose to be. The girl that loves more than she hates, the girl who laughs more than she cries. I will be her again. I stand and resume leaning against the metal tunnel.
This is for Dante, I think as my hand makes its way into the cracked leather bag at my side and I drop the pebble as my fingertips touch the smooth bracelet I smile. I smile because the simple fact that such an object exists gives me so much joy. Man, the world can be a wonderful place. I pull out my charge, clasping the cold metal around my wrist. My eyes close as the intoxicating surge of power flows through my veins and I relish the moment, the feeling of pure strength. The same lungs that were struggling to gulp air through nerves just moments ago are now slow and steady. I am alive. My senses peak and even the slotted rays of morning light become ablaze and my pupils dilate.
I hear the rustling of rocks and dried dirt against the bottom of a boot scrape the earth over and over until the image of a young woman appears at the end of the tunnel. She is taller than me, though only slightly, and brown strands of hair fall across her face from a sloppily pulled back ponytail. Her grey v-neck t-shirt is tight around her torso and tucked into slim black cargo pants. A tattoo of a numerical sequence, 7 digits long, adorns her right forearm. I don’t know who she is, but if it were a contest of strength between her and I, my money would be on her.
“My name is Leah, and I’ll be accompanying you on the remainder of your journey,” she announces, then turns to Eliath and salutes. “Commander.” Eliath nods in approval.
Leah drops a large black tactical duffle bag and kneels beside it, unzipping the canvas. She lifts matte black metal bars out the bag. They’re curved and flat on one side with small bulbs on the backs. She hands a pair to Ben and Max and then presses a pair to the back of her legs. They blink to life and light up, emitting a charging sounds as they adhere to her leg. Ben and Max follow her lead and do the same.
Max’s eyes light up and they blink white and eventually green.
“What are these?” he asks.
Ben stays quiet but the look on his face says everything, he’s dying to know.
“Well,” Leah says.
“Not all of us are as fast as our friends here.” She smiles.
“These help to level the playing field.” Leah smirks at me and I smile.
She is strong and secure, she is a soldier and I feel better knowing she’s escorting us out of the city.
We step out of the tunnel and into the warm spring air as the sun hits my face. Bad things shouldn’t be permitted to happen on days like today—if only that were how the world actually worked. I look from side to side and then back at the city and its perfect skyline of skyscrapers. From this distance it nearly looks like a serene place to live, protected by an invisible wall of energy. If anything happened to him, you’d burn it all down. Abel’s words echo in my mind and I swallow hard, hoping it doesn’t come to that. I step across the imaginary perimeter that separates the sewage system from no man’s land.
As soon as the convoy fully exits the tunnel Ben shouts, “Now! Run!” Instantly the group takes off as a nearby patrol halts to a stop behind us and begins to yell for our immediate surrender. They’ll need to radio for the wall to be turned off. We have at least 15 seconds of safety. I push my legs farther and farther, harder, I will never stop. I regulate my speed so that Max stays in front of me. 15 seconds speed by quicker than I ever thought time could move and I begin to hear the sound of the patrol’s assault rifles firing, one after the next.
“Zig zag!” Leah yells and Max quickly obeys, but his young 14-year-old frame isn’t quick enough and a bullet pierces his side and blood immediately saturates his shirt. His cries erupt in the sunny morning air and he stumbles.
“Max!” my lungs burn for him.
“Keep going!” Abel shouts as he stops and throws my brother over his shoulder.
Bullets whirl around me and I would do anything to stop this, to disappear, to have never existed. It’s then, in the midst of this dusty field that I do something I’ve never done before. My heart cries out to our creator, Please protect us, give me the chance to do your will, I beg of him. Allow me to do what you put me here for. I push myself harder.
The sounds of battle encircle my head and as I hear the air separate behind me I fall, chest down to the ground, allowing the bullet to pass me. I yell for Abel to duck, but there isn’t time. Ben, seeing the shot, leaps to take the bullet in his own chest. He topples over and I propel myself up onto my feet as the others run past him. But I can’t leave him, not while a glimmer of life exists. I pull his arms over my shoulder. Blood pours from the hole in his chest and soaks my shirt through. I can feel its warm drip down my side and gather in the waist of my jeans. “Hold on, Ben. We’re almost there,” I plead. His feet drag against the dirt, as if the earth were pleading with me to let him stay put and rest. He tries to speak but I can’t understand his words as they get caught in his throat and he chokes on blood. His head falls against me and his sweat feels cool against my neck.
In seconds I will be at the tree line, farther than the guards will venture on their own. But those seconds, the very time that the universe has created, seems to have slowed to a crawl and eventually stops my world in the process. My shoe catches on a rock and I trip, tumbling into the dirt. Ben makes a guttural moan and I’m thankful for the small sign of life. I stand and turn, staring at Ben and then at the soldiers approaching. I grab Ben’s arms and drag him into the tree line. I’m drained, I need this charge off of me, I can’t handle the power and can feel my body quickly becoming worn for the energy beating into me.
“Issachar,” Leah orders. “Make sure the wounded are all right. Abel, take a headcount.”
Issachar kneels beside Ben, checking his pulse against his watch. “He’s not going to make it, the bullet is lodged near his heart. We can’t save him.” Issachar’s tone is so void of emotion; he simply stands and races away.
I pull my bag off of my shoulder and place it underneath Ben’s head, hold his hand and wipe his brow. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough to handle this, not Ben.
“It’s okay, Cate,” he st
ruggles as his lungs fill with blood and it flows through his lips and down his chin. “I knew the risk, I knew you, what you are, who you are…” he chokes, “was worth it.”
“Stop, Ben. We can get through this, you’ll be okay,” I say through tears, now streaming at will down my face. I hold onto his hand, refusing to let him go.
“Look after Joseph. Don’t let him become a puppet for the freedom fighters’ propaganda.” He chokes up more blood. “He’s been used enough.”
Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1) Page 21