Murmurs began to buzz. Nothing in Tartarus was ever free, everyone here knew that.
“As many of you know, Phoenix, Mouse and I spent the last month trapped within the Sanctuary. What we found there was shocking. We were lucky to survive. Bowen and Maddox, sadly, were not so fortunate.” Many in the gathered crowd mimicked the same motion I had seen Grenald do when that man let go on the rooftop. Hand to their chests, then to their foreheads. “The stories my mother has told us for years are true. The Sanctuary is not the utopia we had once hoped for.”
“And we’re supposed to take your word on this?” A thin man leaning against a pillar called out. His arms were folded skeptically.
“No,” Triven said. “You’re here to decide for yourself.”
He pulled the tablet from his pocket and handed it to Mouse. Her fingers flew expertly over the screen until a projection shot out onto the wall behind us. Several people gasped, while other crept closer, entranced by the moving images. Mouse tinkered with the volume, but even with it at its max, the crowd had to become absolutely silent to hear the accompanying audio.
The video was a compilation of images. Scenes that were stolen from security cameras, from people’s homes, from the streets, from a hidden camera on Ryker’s lapel. The Rebels had wanted to create a piece of propaganda favoring only the negative sides of the Sanctuary, but both Triven and I were against it. Our people deserved to know the truth, not a one-sided story. So many things were corrupt and horribly wrong with the world Fandrin ordained his utopia. But many other things were better than what we had here. I wanted our people to see all of it. To decide what they wanted to fight for. Some people needed to fight for hope, while others against a villain. Whatever their reason, we needed them to fight.
The video continued and no one spoke. It showed happy families dining together and others being executed together. It showed children being stolen from their parents and beaten into loyal soldiers. It showed there were surpluses of food and safe homes, the parts of a thriving community it was indented to be. Then it showed my torture and the orders that came from Fandrin’s own mouth.
I could feel Archer’s eyes on me during this part. I refused to meet her gaze.
The video laid everything out for our people to see. Good and bad. The hopeful and the tragic. Only the Rebels themselves were cut from the film. It was one thing we had all agreed upon. If we had been caught, if we hadn’t escaped, their anonymity must remain absolute.
When the clip finally stopped and the wall behind us went dark, the hall remained still. Even the flickering of Xavier’s knife could no longer be seen in the shadows.
Many were looking at me. I said nothing.
A tentative voice shattered the spell holding everyone’s tongue.
“How does this affect us? We can’t do anything about what is happening there. The Wall—”
“The Wall will no longer be an issue.” Shockingly it was Archer who responded.
“What does that mean?” Several people shouted twisting in her direction. She instantly clammed up.
“So you’re asking us to start a war with The Sanctuary?” A woman called out. Though I couldn’t see her in the crowd, she was louder than the others.
“No, we are asking you to join a war that has already begun.” Triven spoke in the direction of her voice. “Yes, we went to the Sanctuary seeking intel, thinking we could start a war, but war was already there. It has been for a long time. The Rebels Arstid once was a part of long ago—they survived and have been biding their time. The day we left, they made their first move in almost seven years. It was what enabled us to escape, and it was the tipping point in a revolution.”
“I still don’t see how this affects us.” Someone else shouted.
I finally found my voice, though it was not loud.
“In fourteen days, The Wall is coming down, and the Rebels have asked for our help in assassinating The Minister. To burn his rule to the ground and build a new city, together. Tartarus will no longer be our cage.”
“We saw the army in that video. We’re not enough.” A man yelled.
“You’re right. We are not.” I dared a quick glance at Archer. “But with the Tribes we can be.”
There were two beats of stunned silence. Then came the explosive reaction we had been fearing.
“Listen! In fourteen days, The Wall is coming down. We need to—” Triven’s words were lost in the mayhem.
People were screaming at us, at Arstid, at anyone near them. A few were even making their way to the doors. Though how they expected to find a way out was beyond me. Xavier had turned this place into a maze.
There were people crying hysterically, holding themselves tightly and a few were making their way toward the three of us. Though whether it was in support or to kill us for our proposal, it was hard to tell.
I automatically pulled out my handgun, taking aim.
One man was less than three feet from us, knife drawn, when I jumped. A gun had gone off, but it wasn’t mine.
14. HONESTY
T HE SHOT BOOMED, echoing off the polished surfaces, coaxing out cries of surprise. Everyone ducked reflexively as bits of the ceiling showered down on us. Pulling Mouse painfully to my chest and sheltering her head, I glared in the direction of the gunshot.
The shooter was impossible to miss.
Grenald stood with his wide shoulders coated in bits of white plaster. His shotgun was still raised high above his head, finger still on the trigger. Those closest to him were backing away, all except Otto who had pulled his own gun and was eyeing anyone who looked like they might interfere.
The room had gone absolutely still. Those leaving had paused in the doorway.
The giant leveled the rifle in my direction and Triven moved to step between us, but I laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Wait.” I whispered. There was a dip to his wrist, a laxity to Grenald’s grip. He wasn’t aiming at me. He was pointing at me.
Grenald’s voice boomed, and as before, people listened. “In the past two days alone, Phoenix has risked her life to get you food and shelter. Not to mention the fact Triven has personally helped bring most of us into this community after we defected. Hear them out. We owe them that much.”
He looked to Otto, who bobbed his chin in support.
Part of me wanted to laugh. Apparently saving loved ones’ lives earned you loyalty. Had I known the power it yielded over people, I might have started doing that sooner. Well, maybe.
I had hoped Triven would talk as breathing was taking most of my focus, but his people were looking at me.
Sighing, I pressed a hand to my aching ribs. “Look, I’m not asking you to join hands and skip off into the sunset. I’m not even asking you to get along with them. Hell, the less we actually have to do with the Tribes, the better. All I am asking is that for a little while, we point our guns in the same direction instead of at each other.”
“And you think you can get the Tribes to agree to that?” Arden called out from the back of the room.
“No, not really.” A few people started at my honesty. “But the chances of succeeding in uniting them are much worse without your help. I know you hate them. You all have your own reasons, and every one of you has a right to hate the Tribes. But I don’t have that luxury anymore. I have taken on worse odds on my own before and I can do it again.” I took another short, pained breath. “You can stay here and pretend that nothing exists beyond The Wall. That this is the only way of life. Or you can choose to fight for a better one. Either way it’s still your decision. Triven and I made a promise, but we didn’t make any promises for you.”
“And how do you know it will be better if we choose to fight? If we help you gather the Tribes?” It was the mother who had been with us at the school. Wen, I thought I remembered someone calling her.
“At first, it probably won’t be.” Arstid finally spoke from the doorway, her tone authoritative. “It wasn’t when we started the Subversive either, but it got better
. So many things are broken on both sides of The Wall, and the Rebels are right,” She glanced at me, undoubtedly thinking of my mother. “Nothing is going change if we don’t fight for it.” She hesitated before adding, “Don’t you want a better world for your son? I certainly do.”
Triven flushed, but gave his mother an appreciative look before adding to her speech. “We’re not asking all of you to fight and those who do choose to join us, we aren’t promising everyone is going to survive. People are going to die—your friends and family… We’re not promising a victory either, only a chance to fight for what you believe in. For a choice in the future you want.”
“Far from it. In fact, if all you care about is your own life, it’s better that you don’t join us.” I added.
“And what if we value our children’s lives?” A man called from the left. A little girl stood between his feet clinging to her father’s legs.
I looked down at Mouse. “Then you fight.”
Triven kissed the top of her head, before carefully brushing my cheek. His expression was strained. He hated to ask this of them as much as I did, but the touch was a gentle reminder we were in this together. “Both sides are suffering. We starve out here, while their amble amounts of food are poisoning them. We kill to stay alive—to give our children a future—while their children’s futures are stolen from them. In different ways, that Wall has imprisoned both our worlds.”
Several people glanced back at the blank wall where the video had been played, undoubtedly trying to recall everything they had just seen.
We were on the verge of winning some of them over. I took another desperate stab to further open their minds.
“Minister Fandrin is a liar and a manipulator. I won’t be him. I won’t lie to make you fight with me. But this war, it isn’t mine or yours. It’s ours. All of ours. Everyone in this city and in the city on the other side of The Wall will be affected. Whether you choose to fight, or not. Personally, I want a say in my future.
“The Rebels have asked a terrible thing of us and now I am asking that same terrible thing of you. I know that. But I’m not asking you to fight for me. I am asking you to fight for yourselves. Beyond that wall is an army trained since they were children to sacrifice themselves for their Minister. They have better weapons than we do and their skills far outmatch our own. The only thing we have on our side is the element of surprise. Alone there is little we can do to impact the outcome of this war. But if we can get the Tribes to fight against the Ministry too—come at them from every direction—we may stand a chance.”
“And what if the Tribes turn on us?” A man with a half-tattooed face asked.
“Expect it.” I answered without hesitation. “They might. The Tribes are a loose cannon. I’m not expecting to control them, merely to light the fuse and point them in the right direction. I can only hope they do more damage to the other side than our own. I never intend to fully trust them and neither should any of you.”
Many deflated with relief, which surprised me. I had never had high expectations of the Tribes’ involvement and hearing me admit that somehow soothed them. Most people wanted happy tales spun to comfort them, but for some reason, these people found more solace in my harsh honesty. I had never been the person to have a sunny disposition, it just wasn’t how my brained worked. I was built on facts and mistrust, and that would never change.
Triven seemed to sense the shift of emotions as well and went in for the kill. “We will answer every question you have to the best of our ability and then you can make a choice to fight or hide. We will not retaliate against those who choose not to fight.” This was both a promise and warning to those who might not feel the same.
“Unfortunately, though, those unwilling to fight must remain here until The Wall has fallen. With the recent events, we cannot risk our plans being sabotaged.” Arstid’s words were final.
Hands began to raise with questions, but before Triven could call on any of them a coughing fit wracked my body. I doubled over, nearly falling face first off the counter. Triven steadied my shoulders as Mouse clung to my arms. When I was finally able to straighten, tears were streaming down my cheeks and blood splattered my hands and lips.
Panic filled Triven’s eyes and Doc jumped forward from the crowd, black bag clutched to his stomach. “I propose that we vote to use one of the remaining healing serums on Phoenix so she can move forward in her plan. So she can continue to lead this revolution. Those inclined to agree, say aye.”
I began to protest, but Triven’s shout drowned me out. “Aye!”
Shockingly it wasn’t only his voice echoing off the high ceiling. Over half the room had agreed.
It dawned on me at that moment, I had somehow become a leader in this revolution. A thrill of hope pulsed through me and at the same time, I wanted to vomit.
IT TOOK NEARLY the rest of the day to sort out all the Subversive members’ questions about the Sanctuary and our provisional plans. In the end, more had chosen to side with us than I had expected. A small group of seventeen chose to abstain from the fight. Some because they refused to work with the Tribes and others because they didn’t believe things could be better. I couldn’t blame them for their choice.
Even though the majority of people had agreed to fight with us, only five had actually offered to help gather the Tribes, and each was unwilling to be involved with their own ex-Tribes’ acquisition.
It was a mess.
In the end, we ended up with Archer and Grenald—both ex-Wraiths, Arden and Otto—both ex-Taciturns and Elin—an ex-Scavenger barely my own age. Not a single Adroit had offered their help, their nature of not getting their hands dirty still ingrained apparently. Not even Baxter offered his usually ready gun. I supposed we all have our limits, this was his.
Arstid had wanted to be involved with the planning too, but we all agreed it was better that she stay neutral in support of her own people. Though I hated to admit it, we needed her to be their voice of reason and that meant not being aligned with the Tribes in any way.
Triven had tried to look hopeful as our little group assembled, but I knew we were screwed. No one slept well that night, even one of Ryker’s little white pills didn’t keep all of the nightmares away.
The plans were rough at best. We had agreed that after the incident at the Ravager’s warehouse, it was most advantageous that we go after the Adroits first before they blew up all the other Tribes. Generally, Adroits didn’t venture out into other territories seeking casualties, but apparently things had changed. Several dead Ravagers could attest to that.
Elin, the ex-Scavenger, felt confident he could get us safely into their territory. He claimed to have scavenged that area regularly before he found the Subversive—or they found him, more accurately—and knew where most of their bombs were hidden. Or at least how to look for them. His green eyes radiated confidence.
The goal was get in close enough to take an Adroit or two hostage and use them as leverage. We would require two things from the hostages. To spread the word to their leader of what we were doing and not to die in the process. As a Tartarus rule, Tribal hostages were never taken and then released. This act would be our first peace offering.
The question was, what message to send back with the freed hostages? Ultimately, we had to speak to the Tribes’ leaders. If we couldn’t get them on board none of the other members would follow. They were not egalitarians. Archer wanted to send a threat that we would blow them all up if they didn’t fight for us. Otto thought it was better to give them a semi-false hope of gaining access to the endless amount of supplies in the Sanctuary and freedom from the Tribal lifestyle. There were huge problems with both plans. One gave us soldiers under duress—making them more likely to turn on us—and the other offered a lifestyle they may not care about at all. Yes, the Tribes were all about survival, and yes, some of them may desire a more amicable way of life. But some of them liked it here. They thrived on the power and violence, and would never want that to change.
/> In the end, we settled on banking on their greed and basic desire for self-preservation. The captives would be sent back with a simple message. We were a rebel group that was going to blow up The Wall, invade the Sanctuary and take out the Ravagers. If their Tribe wanted in, then their leaders were going to have to meet with us. Then lastly and most importantly—and a total lie—was that the other Tribes had already joined our ranks to claim their profits.
The last part was juvenile, but we were relying on the Tribes’ desire not to be left out. If the Ravagers, the largest and most deadly Tribe, were taken out, there could be jockeying to be the next big power in Tartarus. More supplies meant making that happen and getting the most supplies, meant working with us. It was the only benefit of the Tribes’ distrust of one another. If the plan was successful with the Adroits, we would repeat similar kidnappings with the other Tribes.
Maps were drawn roughing out Tribes’ territories and the best routes to each. Navigating the skyline was the easiest part, but unfortunately, unlike the arrogant Ravagers, the other Tribes were paranoid enough not to have easy roof access to their buildings. The Adroits were the worst. Surrounding their territory was a block-wide wasteland of blown-up buildings and spike filled crevasses. Their nest was at the center in what looked like an old factory of sorts. It had two massive smokestacks and I had always suspected it was where they sourced most of their explosive materials. The entire area always smelled of sulfur.
Unfortunately, it was also one of the few areas I knew little about. When your main goal for six years was staying alive, you didn’t go to the areas that were known for blowing up.
We lost an entire day poring over the maps and plans. Everyone was stalling, we all knew it. But the clock was ticking and we had already lost two more days.
New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series Page 11