Forget Me Not

by Stacey Nash

  “They’ve gone around the other corner,” Will says through the telcom.

  Jax holds me for a few seconds after they’ve passed. I don’t want him to let go, and the look in his eyes tells me he feels the same too. His arms drop to his sides, releasing me a little later than necessary. He peeks around the corner then darts out and disappears into the turn of the hall. “It’s just a little farther.”

  I dash out after him, but follow a pillar behind in case there are more people. This hall’s identical to the last; tall marble pillars line both sides. Stone carvings of people from their shoulders up stand proudly between each pillar. We scoot past a double wooden door on the inside wall halfway down. At the end a third hall runs off to the left. The entire hallway must create a huge outer rectangle.

  “Mae,” Jax echoes through my head.

  I swivel away from the new corridor, and he stands in a dark arched entrance. Will and Lilly are nowhere to be seen, so they must have already slipped through the stair descending behind him. Idiot. I give myself a quick scolding. This is definitely not the place to daydream. Jax’s hand brushes my back as I creep past him into the cool, stone stairwell. Dim lights high up on the wall cast eerie shadows on the walls. They look like torches from an ancient castle, but the light is a dull, pure white like electric lighting.

  We twist onto a landing and take a sharp turn into a second stairwell. At the bottom, I stumble to stop myself bumping into Will, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. I shake my head and curse myself again for not paying attention.

  Jax pushes past us and peers into whatever lays beyond. “I can’t see anyone. It almost seems too empty.” He disappears into the enclave, followed by Lilly.

  Will gestures me forward. “After you.”

  I emerge into another hall that’s different than the one above—much dimmer, no harsh sunlight, and this light seems manmade too. Warmth radiates off the thick red carpet, fading my goose bumps. Intricate patterns in gold and dark green decorate the floor, giving this floor the same feeling of grandeur, but not. The one above is even more splendid. A cold shiver runs through me, forcing myself to remember this is a Collective building. It doesn’t seem right. Something so beautiful can’t belong to people so horrible. But then, maybe it can.

  Jax and Lilly approach the closest door. Jax pushes it opened and cautiously steps inside. “It’s empty.”

  He’s right, this whole place is empty. Too empty. I hope this isn’t a trap. Surely they don’t know we’re here.

  “Close the door,” he says.

  Will comes in behind me and Lilly, pulling the door closed in silence.

  Jax fumbles on the wall, making way too much noise.

  I feel around the wall on the other side of the door. “Where are the—”

  “Lights?” Jax says in a loud whisper.

  A musical female voice chimes, “Welcome to room twenty-three.”

  “Lights?” I say, and they flick off, shrouding the room in darkness.

  “Cool,” Will says, “lights.”

  Large chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling flick on, illuminating the room in soft yellow light. It’s grand, the ceiling’s high, and the walls are carved in relief like engraved metal. A generous bed with a big, fluffy white cover stands in the center of the room, making it look like a five star hotel.

  Lilly’s mouth drops open. “Fancy.”

  Will pokes his head into the only other door in the room. “Just a bathroom.”

  There’s nothing for us here. Jax whispers, “Lights,” and leads us out into the corridor.

  We creep along and check behind two more doors, both identical to the first. I sneak to the next door, and a stream of light shining under it makes me freeze. There are voices, sounds like two.

  “I’ve questioned him. He doesn’t know where she is,” a man says.

  “She must be in hiding with that infernal group,” another says.

  “Perhaps we should call Joshua,” a third says.

  Jax goes rigid beside me, his face as pale as when his arm got wounded.

  It hits me like a punch to the stomach. They’re talking about me. They have to be. They’re trying to find me. To do so they’ve questioned Dad with pincers, tongs, and God only knows what devices of torture. I bolt away from the door, toward another staircase, my feet thumping on the floor as I flee.

  Hard fingers close around my arm, and I’m jerked backward into the stairwell’s shadows. A strong arm wraps around me, and a hand covers my mouth, pulling me up against a firm body. My heart races, trying to pound right out of my chest. A primal urge to scream squeezes my throat closed. They caught me. Sweat beads on my forehead.

  “You need to stop, you can’t help him by blindly running into danger,” Will’s voice sounds in my mind. Why isn’t he helping me?

  I struggle to get away from my captor. “Will, help!”

  “Stop fighting,” he says.

  “Oh.” I wriggle my shoulders and jab with my elbows to get away anyway. Why’s he holding me back? “I can’t, I have to help him.”

  “You don’t even know where you’re going,” Will says. “Stop running, and I’ll let you go.”

  Defeated, I crumple into his hold, and a small sob catches in my throat. He’s right; I have no idea.

  “I know you’re scared, but it will all be okay. I promise.” His arms loosen into a hug.

  I spin around to face him and bury my face in his shoulder, my body quivering with suppressed sobs. He squeezes me against him, but his arms no longer feel like the safe haven they once were. The danger of the place, of this situation, of this damn Collective is just too much.

  A slight squeeze on my shoulder makes me turn in time to see Lilly smile. “I don’t think we’ll find what we’re searching for here. Jax said there’s another level.”

  “Holding cells are down on the next floor.” Jax saunters past and throws a smirk over his shoulder. “We can do without the public display of affection.”

  They both disappear down the stairs. Will takes my hand and leads me after them, anchoring me against the uncontrollable shivers racking my being, even though it’s not cold.

  We emerge onto the next floor. Dark, gloomy, windowless walls seem to be carved out of the earth, and water trickles down them to pool on the ground. The damp air, thick and stuffy like a sauna, sticks in my throat. I have to take deep breaths just to get enough into my lungs. There’s no pillars, no doors, only a skinny tunnel stretching out before us like an alley.

  This tunnel must lead to the holding cells. I’ll be with you soon, Dad. I drop Will’s hand and rush down the hall. We’re so close now. I can feel it deep in my soul.

  A bloodcurdling scream pierces the air.

  I bolt down the earthen tunnel, unable to get there fast enough. I don’t turn to see if the others are behind me. The scream was male, and it pulled at my stomach like a huge hand twisting. I rush up to a fork in the tunnel and pivot from side to side. Which way?

  Soft whimpering echoes from the left.

  “Are you going to talk now?” a gruff voice asks.

  I spin to the left and run headlong down the tunnel. I need to help, need to reach the source of that scream. An open arched doorway doesn’t hold me back from bursting into a large, domed room; a single thought in my mind: HELP.

  A woman in dirty purple rags slumps, chained to a chair. A short, round man stares down at a body strapped to a stone table. On his side, despite the chains crisscrossed over his body, the form’s curled into a fetal position.

  Blind rage pulses through me, reddening my vision and making my blood run hot. I rush at the short, round man and smash him into the table with the force of my entire body. Sliding the dagger out of its sheath at my wrist and aiming to kill, I thrust it toward his chest.

  He manages to squirm far enough out of the way that it misses and sinks into his shoulder instead. He lets out a shout, and a short, dirty knife clatters from his hand to the floor.

  I raise my arm,
sinking the blade into the soft flesh of his stomach again. “Bastard, that’s for my dad.” I stab him again. From the corner of my eye I see movement coming at me from both sides.

  “Take her.” The man I stabbed growls.

  I spin around and try to look in every direction at once. Two men close in on me from opposite sides of the room. The short man struggles and pushes me off. He punches me in the face.

  The others are right on top of me. I’m going to die. His knife breaks through the protect-it—it must to be tech, like mine. The blade cuts through my jeans and into my flesh. Searing pain slices into my thigh, and I scream.

  The short man towers over me. I crouch to the ground, my hand cupped over the cut while the other men advance. It’s like we’re stuck in a freeze frame.

  Jax and Will rush through the door, straight at the other two men with weapons extended, taking on one each. My heart races. My dagger and fist fly at the short man. I try to stand. His eyes turn to frosted glass, and his expression slackens. He topples forward onto me. We both tumble to the floor. He’s as heavy as a ton of bricks. My lungs sear with pain, struggling to draw in the next breath. Warm, sticky wetness spreads out over my chest, weighing my stomach with disgust. I push out against the dead weight with all my strength, the acidic taste of bile rising in my throat.

  It’s no use. He’s too heavy.

  He rolls off me. Lilly reaches down, and pulls me to my feet, her hand trembling in mine. She killed him. “Help the boys.”

  I look from one to the other. Will grapples with a tall, beefy man, struggling to touch his stun-mace to the man’s neck. Jax fights a brutish looking guy with his blade. The man swings a spiked stick at Jax, but he blocks with the weapon and his forearm. I look from one to the other again. Will can stun; he’ll knock his opponent out in no time.

  I pick up my dagger and rush to Jax’s side. They grapple too close together. It’s hard to get in to help him. Don’t want to cut Jax accidentally. Finally, they move apart, just far enough to give me a clear shot. I thrust my dagger into the man’s shoulder and reef it back out, sending blood streaming out of his back to stain his shirt. He spins around, his face warped with fury.

  Jax uses the moment of confusion to thrust his blade upward. I can’t see where he hits, but it must have been on the mark because the man’s legs give way, and he crumples to the floor. There’s a loud thud, and I turn to see Will’s opponent unconscious on the ground.

  Lilly kneels by the woman chained to the chair, her deft fingers working at the binding clasps.

  Jax yanks his blade out from under the man’s ribs and takes the chain from Lilly. He moves to the guard who Will knocked out. His hands work fast to secure the man’s wrists and ankles, hogtying him like an animal for slaughter.

  I stand still, frozen on the spot, staring at everything happening around me: Lilly and the woman, Jax and the guard, Will and the imprisoned, tortured man. My foggy mind refuses to process it all. The man on the table moans, making me flinch. Will clasps his forearm and supports his back, trying to help him rise.

  “Dad!” I race to his side.

  Will mumbles something, gives up, and lowers the man back onto the table.

  He’s bloody, bruised, and covered in dirt. His bushy hair is ratty, blood-caked, filthy. The woman brushes back his matted locks, whispering soothing words.

  He’s so hurt. My heart threatens to crack right in half.

  My stomach drops. Spots absorb my vision. Quicksand consumes my legs. The world slips onto its side. Something clamps around my waist.

  Nothing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  VOICES FLOAT IN AND out of the darkness. “…pain… cut on her thigh.”

  “Thought it was him….”

  Who? Who is him? What does that mean?

  “She’s shocked.”

  My whole body jackhammers with uncontrollable shakes, and pain pierces my right thigh. Solid arms surround me, holding me tight. Blood mixed with sweat and the faint, underlying scent of musk fills my nose. I snuggle into the arms, hoping it will stop the icy shivers running through me. My eyes droop, but I force them to open and blink a few times before the chiseled lines of Jax’s face come into focus, gazing down at me.

  His brow furrows, and his eyes brood.

  I blink and blink and blink again.

  His expression changes and softens, one side of his mouth turning up in a weak smile. “About time you joined us.”

  “Ouch.”

  Pressure bites into my leg, tugging it from side to side. Despite the pain, I force myself to stretch and look further. Lilly’s dark head is bent over me, the backpack at her side. Her hands move with ease, wrapping a cream bandage round and round my leg.

  “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle,” she says, securing the end with a knot. “It’s pretty long, but I don’t think it will need stitches.”

  “Ahh. Okay. Thanks.”

  I glance around the dungeon-torture-room. It’s large, even though the domed roof is low to the ground. It’s dusty, lumpy, and dank. The walls, floor, and ceiling are the same—a mixture of rock and dirt. Dim lights ensconce the walls. Shackles, chains, and instruments of torture hang from bolts on the wall. A lump constricts my throat, tears prick my eyes, and thick breaths rush in and out. The tortured man. Dad.

  Jax leans closer to my face, blocking my view of the room. Concern plays across his face. He must be scared to tell me. No. Dad. Black spots swim in my vision. Maybe I’m going to pass out again.

  “It’s not your Dad,” he tells me. “It’s Al and Bertie.”

  “Al and Bertie? No! Are they okay?”

  A guilty relief floods through me. If it’s Al, that means it’s not Dad. Poor, kind Al. It’s almost as bad as if it were Dad. How could this happen? Surely it isn’t just because he works with the resistance. Maybe this is how they treat captives. Torture. Punishment. Death?

  “Then where’s Dad?” I ask. Jax was certain we’d find him here in the holding cells. My body slackens like there’s nothing left holding me together. I am completely empty at the thought of not bringing him home.

  “I promise we’ll find him,” Jax says.

  Forcing myself to take long, deep breaths, I struggle to calm myself. I’ll faint again if I don’t. Somehow Jax’s reassurance helps.

  “I heard the guards talking about a prisoner in the guest quarters,” Bertie says from beside the table where Al lies. Her voice is deep and raspy like she has a sore throat. When I look over, Will’s there too, standing protectively over Al.

  “The guest quarters?” Will asks.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know where they are.”

  I look at her properly for the first time; her dress is no longer garish, it’s a dull, dirty purple. Her hair hangs in matted clumps around her face. Purple clings to the ends, but there’s an inch-long strip of white-grey at the roots. Her filthy feet are bare, and there’s no sign of the eccentric old lady who brought me and Will to the farm.

  Al’s in a much worse state than Bertie. The rags of his blue tweed pants are all that covers his bruised and broken body. He’s gaunt, and his skin looks grey over ribs sticking out of his chest like a half-starved animal. So much weight gone since we said goodbye at the farm only a month ago. Angry red welts mark where his telltale bushy white eyebrows once spanned.

  “Bertie, what happened to you?” My voice quivers, and I’m not sure I want to hear her answer. I push myself up onto my rear so I’m sitting. “What have they done to Al?”

  “It’s not your fault.” Her gaze darts away.

  “Are you both okay?” How could it be my fault? My eyes lock with Jax’s, and his show uncertainty. He must think it’s my fault, but that doesn’t make any sense. The need to do something makes me shuffle my weight. He pushes me up from behind, and my teeth grit against the stabbing pain in my leg.

  “It is our fault,” Will says through the telcom.

  Scrunching my brows together, I shoot him a look which says I don’t under
stand.

  He moves his head in a slow, deliberate shake, his eyes drooping with guilt. “The Collective must have come for them because of us.”

  My legs wobble. Luckily Jax still supports the bulk of my weight. Guilt consumes my very being. Guilt over feeling relieved. Guilt my actions caused Al’s fate. The heat of Will’s eyes bore into me.

  “The Collective wouldn’t have made the connection between them and you,” Jax says. How does he do that—know what I’m thinking? Will’s glance made it clear he spoke into my mind alone.

  Jax moves just a fraction, but the slight jostle is painful. I wince and twist my neck to face him. “They helped us.”

  “Did you use the cover-up again after your house?” he asks.

  My chest tightens, my mouth goes dry. I did. I used it once more in front of Al at the store. “Damn it. Yes.”

  A deep groan from over by the wall draws everyone’s attention to the unconscious guard bound on the floor. Lilly rushes to him and yanks a telcom out of his ear. He stirs and opens eyes wild with anger and hatred. He takes in his two fallen comrades, both lying in pools of blood on the floor. He tries to speak, but only makes a muffled grunt through the thick gag. Thank God Lilly thought to remove his telcom.

  Will zaps the guard in the back of the neck with a loud buzz. His eyes roll back in his head as he passes out again. It’s time to move before someone else comes along. Dad’s still being held and, if Bertie’s right, he’s upstairs.

  “We have to go back up and check those other rooms,” I say.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Will plants his feet before me and stands with his arms crossed like a barricade of solid muscle.

  “Like hell I’m not. Try to stop me.” I pull away from Jax. If I can stand on my own, I won’t look so weak.

  “We can’t leave Al and Bertie here. They need to be taken home. You can port them back to Beau and safety,” Will says.

  The soft chink of chains comes from the table where Lilly works with Bertie to unwind Al’s restraints. Each noise sends a shock of wariness right to my heart. Will wants to get rid of me, move me out of danger. I’m tired of him always watching out for me like a damn bodyguard. I give him a level look.