The Last Sanctuary Omnibus

by Kyla Stone

  “Most of these people aren’t bad,” Fiona said as she wound a red curl around her finger. “They just want to be safe. That’s why they’re keeping everyone else out.”

  “Sounds like rainbows and unicorn dreams to me,” Silas said. “I know these people. I am these people. They won’t care about anybody out there as long as they’re safe in here, no matter who it is that keeps them safe—or what they’ve done.”

  “That is a horrible vision of humanity,” Micah said.

  Silas’s eyes went flat. “That’s the world. Always has been, always will be. The apocalypse isn’t going to change that.”

  “If it avoids bloodshed, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” Theo asked. “I love my sister and my mother, but their first response to everything is to fight, to kill. I don’t want to resort to that unless we absolutely have to.”

  Micah stared at Theo. He really was nothing like Cleo.

  Theo took another swig of soda and slammed it down on the table. “We’re all here because we believe in the ugly truth over pretty lies. I for one believe there are others who feel the same way.”

  “So how are you going to do this thing, then?” Silas asked dubiously. “How exactly are you going to show everyone the ugly truth?”

  Theo grinned, seemingly oblivious to Silas’s tone. “With a little work, I can access the Sanctuary network. That’s every single screen, holo-ad, wallscreen, and Smartflex.”

  “But it won’t mean anything coming from us,” Kadek said. “There has to be proof.”

  “We can get it.” Theo’s voice rose in excitement. He took a small object out of his pocket—a thumb drive. He held it aloft on his opened palm. “That’s where your sister comes in, Silas. She can get her father to confess the truth. If Amelia Black films it, I’ll show it to every single person inside the Sanctuary.”

  26

  Amelia

  “Would you like some water?” Harper asked Amelia from the doorway. “You look rather faint.”

  Amelia nodded weakly. She did feel exhausted, as weary as after a seizure had knocked her flat, rattling her internal organs and scrambling her brain.

  “Don’t be long,” the other guard, Logan, said with a slight frown.

  “Of course,” Harper said briskly. She helped Amelia to her feet.

  Amelia pulled her hospital gown tighter around her bare thighs. She’d undergone another round of biopsies, scans, and blood draws all morning and afternoon. It was the sixth day of testing. She hadn’t seen her father today, but technicians and med-bots had been in and out of her room throughout the day.

  She was tired. So tired.

  She nodded politely as they passed two virologists in lab coats, their heads bent over a holopad. They glanced up, watching her until she shuffled into the bathroom. A few moments later, the faucet water was flowing into the sink. Harper pulled something from the pocket of her uniform.

  But Amelia was only interested in one thing. She met Harper’s gaze in the mirror. “Where are Silas and Micah?” she whispered.

  Last night, she had dined with President Sloane, a slew of advisers, and the five remaining Coalition members, including her father.

  President Sloane had pulled her aside after the meal. “I just wanted to let you know that your brother and your friend managed to get themselves lost. They slipped away from their protective escort before they could undergo their chipping procedure. Unfortunate, since we could have used it to find them.”

  “Why did they need a protective escort?” Amelia had asked.

  President Sloane brushed a stray hair back into place. “It was precautionary only. They’re special VIPs, just like you. Declan is overcome with worry. I’m sure you can imagine.” She patted Amelia’s shoulder. “But don’t fret. You focus on the cure; we’ll focus on finding your brother.”

  Amelia forced her mouth into the shape of a smile even as doubts filled her mind. Just what kind of escort was it? Were Silas and Micah safe? Did President Sloane know they’d fled on purpose? Did she guess the ulterior motives at play? Or was she busy hiding her own?

  “I’m incredibly grateful,” she said as sincerely as she could. “Thank you so much.”

  “Of course, dear. Don’t you worry about a thing. “You’re Declan’s daughter. That makes you practically family.” President Sloane gave her a kind smile. She reached out and touched a strand of Amelia’s newly lengthened hair. “I promised you my stylist would get everything back to normal, didn’t I?”

  Only nothing was normal anymore. It never would be again. Amelia touched the new extensions that fell in a sleek, waist-length white-blonde curtain. Though she had worn it this long for most of her life, her hair felt strange now, alien. She’d gotten used to the lightness of short hair, the feeling of fresh air on her neck, the freedom of not having to worry about its maintenance and upkeep.

  Now it felt like a weight around her shoulders, a heaviness tugging at her skull. A reminder of her father’s control over her life. She hadn’t wanted it. But her father had gotten his way. She’d gritted her teeth and endured it because in the end, she had no choice. Her hair preferences meant little compared to the importance of her mission. When among wolves...

  Now Amelia kept her gaze trained on Harper. She barely felt the hot water gushing over her hands. “Are Micah and Silas safe?”

  “Keep your head down,” Harper murmured, dropping her own gaze. “So the camera above us doesn’t read our lips. And yes, they’re safe. They’re with our people.”

  Relief flooded through her. “Thank goodness. Where are they? What’s happening?”

  “I can only tell you what you need to know.” Harper pressed herself closer to Amelia and thrust an object at her beneath the counter. “This is a thumb-drive with an embedded camera and microphone. It’s a recording device. It can hover if you need it to, or you can hide it in a plant or something.”

  “What is it for?”

  “We need you to get your father to confess to developing the Hydra virus.”

  Amelia inhaled sharply. “What?”

  “There’s no evidence unless he confesses. Get him to confess, and we’ll show it to everyone inside the Sanctuary. Theo hopes the citizens will turn on the Coalition themselves.”

  Fear slid down her spine. Her mouth went dry. “He won’t do it. He confessed on the Grand Voyager, but only with a gun to his head. He’ll never tell me the truth.”

  “I know it’s hard,” Harper said gently. “And dangerous. But we have a chance to avoid bloodshed and still get what we want.”

  “But I’m going to steal the cure and smuggle it out—”

  “Isn’t that even more dangerous than what we’re asking you to do now?”

  Amelia went silent. Of course, Harper was right. But the thought of confronting her father sent tremors of terror rippling through her body.

  Images of the Grand Voyager’s bridge flashed in front of her eyes—Simeon with the muzzle of his gun pressed against her temple, Simeon kicking her, punching her, explosions of agony racking her body. And her father, tied to the captain’s chair, bruised and bloodied yet still defiant, refusing to give in to the terrorists—not even for his wife, not even for his daughter.

  “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I’m not the right person for this—”

  “You’re the only person we have.” Harper thrust the thumb drive into her hands, then closed her own hand over Amelia’s. “We’re depending on you.”

  Amelia had no choice. She knew it. She knew this was the right thing to do. She took a breath and nodded.

  Harper straightened and stepped back. She folded her hands in front of her stomach, a disinterested, bored look painted on her face.

  Amelia said nothing as she allowed Harper to guide her back to her room. She faltered. Harper steadied her. “You all right, miss?”

  “I’m fine.”

  But she wasn’t. All her blood rushed to her toes. Her mind spun, dizzy and lightheaded. Could she really do this? Could sh
e face her father, confront him? After all she’d endured, was she strong enough?

  She wished Micah were here. She missed him with a physical ache. She missed his warm eyes and his smiles and his soft, full laugh. She missed the way he was always fixing his crooked glasses, his determination to never give up hope, no matter what.

  She missed Benjie’s sweetness and Willow’s sarcasm and her brother’s sullen but steady presence. She missed Finn’s goofy jokes, Celeste’s attitude, and Gabriel’s strength. She missed her mother’s arms around her, promising her it would all be okay.

  But that was a lie. Nothing was okay. It might never be okay.

  No. That wasn’t true. They could change things. They could make this world a better place for everyone. But nothing would change without risk, without sacrifice, without pain. She couldn’t expect anyone else to shoulder that burden for her. She had to do her part to help. She had to be strong. She had to be brave, just like she’d told Benjie.

  “I can do this,” she said, meaning so much more than a walk down the hallway.

  This was her brave thing.

  27

  Micah

  “What now?” Micah asked Kadek.

  Kadek shrugged one narrow shoulder. “Now, we wait. Amelia gets the confession, Harper gets the recording to us, then we hack into network security and play it. Easy-peasy.”

  Night had fallen. The air was chilly but just above freezing. Micah dug his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. Theo had waited until almost eleven p.m., several hours after curfew to hack a transport to take them somewhere to hole up.

  Kadek led Micah and Silas to a biodome in the agricultural sector. Rows and rows of biodomes stretched in front of them in the darkness. “All the hydroponic farming is done in biodomes to protect crops from the blights,” Kadek explained. “All those from this street down are empty.”

  There were dozens—maybe hundreds—of them. How could they all be empty? “Why?”

  “We’ve got plenty to feed the thirteen thousand or so people here. We could double our capacity, even triple it easily.”

  Micah’s stomach twisted at the thought of all the people the Sanctuary could feed and shelter here—and were purposefully choosing not to.

  Kadek gestured to a large glass dome directly in front of them. The door hung open on its hinges. One of the glass planes was broken. “This biodome malfunctioned a few months ago. Since they have so much excess inventory, they didn’t bother to fix it. We’ve scanned it, and there are no active cameras or listening devices. So, this is your new home away from home.”

  Silas glanced around with an expression of derision. “Looks cozy.”

  “It’ll have to do.” Kadek thrust a duffle bag into Micah’s arms. “Here are five days’ worth of self-heating meals and water. We’ve already stashed sleeping bags inside for you along with a solar heater. It’s risky to come out here, so we won’t come back for you until we’re ready to broadcast.”

  “So we’re stuck here?” Silas grumbled.

  Micah shot him a look. “We understand,” he said to Kadek.

  “Hopefully, it won’t be long.” Kadek turned and jogged into the darkness, quickly disappearing.

  The biodome was empty and steeped in shadows, the cement floor still cluttered with dirt, old planter trays, and cartons, a hose coiled in one corner. It was divided into sections by glass walls, some transparent, some covered with a privacy film.

  The sleeping bags were rolled against the wall closest to the entrance. Two old, threadbare chairs stooped in one corner, separated by an ancient and dusty desk. Micah squatted, shivering, and switched on the solar lamp and small heater. Instant warmth radiated against his skin.

  He unrolled the sleeping bags and smoothed out the wrinkles. No pillows, but Micah had long since learned to appreciate whatever comfort he could find.

  Silas tugged off his gloves and scarf and threw them atop Micah’s sleeping bag. He dug around in the duffle bag and pulled out a self-heating meal pouch. He tore off the top and tossed it on the ground. He tilted his head back and poured some kind of brownish soup into his mouth.

  Micah folded Silas’s gloves and scarf and slipped them inside the duffle bag. He slanted his gaze at Silas’s discarded trash. “You’re not an ape. You don’t have to throw your crap everywhere.”

  Silas just about choked on his soup. “Have you not taken a look at your surroundings, dude?”

  “I’m just saying, if we’re going to be living together for days—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my crap on my side of the biodome. How’s that?”

  Micah pulled off his gloves, placed them neatly on his sleeping bag, and held his hands over the heater. It was the best he was going to get from Silas. “Deal.”

  “It’s not going to work, you know,” Silas said when he was finished with his soup. He tossed the empty pouch on the cement floor—but in the corner, away from Micah. “This whole recording thing.”

  Micah looked up, irritation surging in his veins. “Why do you always have to be like this? We’re all worried. Of course, it might fail, but we’re going to try. It’s worth trying.”

  “You and your insane commitment to hope.” Silas snorted. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course, it matters. Everything matters. It all matters. We’re here for a purpose.”

  “What purpose? You think God is going to come down and save us?” Silas stretched out his arms, as if encompassing everything. “Even after all this? Humans destroying each other, killing each other? We’re savages. Criminals and killers. We destroy everything good. Even if He existed, He’d turn His back on humanity and never look back.”

  Micah stared at him. “No, He wouldn’t. God is love. He loves humans even though they’re broken and ugly and lost. God believes humanity can be redeemed. So do I.”

  Silas rolled his eyes. “Your stubborn belief is going to get someone you care about killed.”

  “You mean Amelia.”

  Silas’s shoulders stiffened. “She’s not going to be able to do it. Not against my father.”

  “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

  “I know her. I know what my father does, what he did to her, to all of us.”

  Compassion stirred in his heart. Despite their elite status, neither Silas nor Amelia had it easy. “She’s told me some things—”

  “You have no idea. She can’t help herself. She turns into our mother. Sniveling, cowed. Weak.”

  “I have faith in her,” Micah insisted stubbornly. He couldn’t let doubt creep in. Doubt was toxic. The worst part of being afraid was the fear itself. He wouldn’t give in to either of them.

  Silas sneered. “Like you had faith in your brother?”

  Micah winced, but didn’t back down. “Yes.”

  “And how did that turn out for you?”

  “Gabriel has changed. He’s worked very hard to prove that.”

  “Except now he’s with his old buddies, the New Patriots. How long do you think that change is going to last, huh? He’s running around with Cleo, who wants to annihilate every elite she sees. You don’t think that’s going to rub off on him? You don’t think he’s gonna go right back to his old ways?” Silas’s gray eyes sparked. “You know what they say. A dog always returns to his—”

  “Not Gabriel.” Micah shook his head, adamant. He’d had his worries, his private doubts. But he refused to be controlled by them. He chose to trust Gabriel. He chose a better way. “At some point, you have to believe in something. You have to trust someone. Otherwise, what is life?”

  Silas slouched against the glass wall. He buried his fists in his pants’ pockets. “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “That’s exactly my point.”

  A shadow passed across Silas’ face. He turned and stalked deeper into the biodome, rounded one of the glass panes, and disappeared from view.

  For a moment, Micah thought he was gone for good. The same old Silas, always running from his pr
oblems, the same way he’d disappeared when Amelia contracted the Hydra virus—too much of a coward to face harsh reality.

  Something crashed. Several loud thuds followed the first noise. Then the sound of glass shattering. Silas must be punching inanimate objects.

  Micah considered going to check on him, but decided against it. At some point, people were in charge of themselves. No one could make them change. No one could make them be better people, to leave their old, destructive ways behind.

  That was a choice only Silas could make.

  Several minutes later, Silas materialized out of the shadows. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, drops of blood leaking down his fingers. His shoulders were trembling. His mouth contorted, a flash of raw pain crossing his face.

  Micah stood. “Silas? Are you okay?”

  “I’m not there,” he said in barely a whisper. “I’m not there to protect her.”

  Silas’s veneer had cracked wide open. The snarky anger was gone, replaced by naked fear. Micah understood the desperate helplessness in Silas’s eyes. He felt the same way. They both loved Amelia. They were both powerless to do a thing to help her.

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t.” Silas shook his head. “Don’t you get it? I’m the one who should be suffering all this. I’m the asshole! Why is she the one our father tormented the worst? Why was she the one dragged off to be nearly raped and murdered by a psychopathic terrorist? Why is she the one cursed with migraines and seizures? Why is she the one who got sick?

  “Now she’s trapped, scared and all alone, surrounded by enemies, back with our monstrous father, and it’s all on her again. How much can one person take? How long until she breaks?” He stared down at his trembling hands. “It should be me. I should be there. Not her.”

  “She’s not going to break,” Micah said quietly. “And neither are we.”