New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series

by Jennifer Wilson

  An hour later and now two hours late for our rendezvous with the others, we finally found our way back to the elevator shaft leading to my safe house. As Arden climbed on the cables first, face now dry and hardened, Triven caught me in his arms. The heat of his body enveloped me as he pressed his lips to the top of my head. I hugged back with everything I had, burying my face in his chest.

  “I thought we were dead tonight.” Triven’s voice caught.

  “I know.” I spoke into his shirt. It smelled like him, sweaty and warm.

  It’s only going to get worse… neither of us said it. We didn’t have to.

  “She said three days.” I said pulling away to look at him. I had always known the Taciturns had spies placed in other Tribes. Tonight was a stiff reminder of that.

  Worry filled Triven’s eyes as they danced over mine. “I caught that too. They knew everything… But they let us go.”

  I shook my head, knowing where his thoughts were going. “We can’t stay here tonight. We can’t risk it.”

  My sore limbs ached for the mattresses upstairs. But they were not worth our lives. Sedia had let us live, but her other Tribesmen may not be so generous. She wasn’t their leader and her word was not law.

  “I know.” Triven kissed the top of my head again. “Let’s get the others.”

  THE REST OF our unit swarmed the door as we entered and I was greeted by a hard slap to the face from a fuming Veyron as soon as the door closed behind us. Her hair swung out with the force, momentarily revealing her damaged cheeks and scalp. Arden must have told them what happened.

  “Veyron!” Triven started next to me as I staggered.

  Baxter immediately leapt forward to restrain her, but I waved them both off. I deserved it. Plus, this was the most attention she had given me since our return. Her body vibrated with emotions, bright blue eyes moist. A part of her hated me, I could see it now. But her arms quickly wrapped around me in a painful hug before she once again shoved me away. “I still don’t forgive you.”

  Without waiting for a response, Veyron pushed her way to the back of the group, leaving me dumbfounded. It was a step at least, though forward or backward in our relationship I couldn’t be sure.

  In Veyron’s trail, the questions started pouring out, but I didn’t hear any of them.

  Otto was consoling Arden in the far corner of the room, the only one of us that truly understood his pain. Arden’s back was to us as I watched them, and an ache rose in my chest. Triven’s voice hummed in the background as he began answering questions. He paused as I laid a hand over his chest. My eyes never left Arden’s shaking shoulders.

  “We need to leave.” I barely kept the quiver out of my voice. Shockingly no one protested, they didn’t even push for more answers. Instead, our band of insurgents snapped to action. Only Archer remained a beat behind. I moved away to gather my own things, but she followed.

  In two strides, she caught up to me.

  “We aren’t safe here.” I muttered without looking up. “He can’t stay here.”

  “Not arguing.” Archer kept her voice low to match mine.

  “That’s a first.”

  She snorted. Reaching to her hip she pulled two throwing knives, offering them to me without hesitation. I looked from the blades to her face, not moving to take them. She gave the weapons an impatient shake, the metal clanking together. “You need something until we get you more adequate weapons. And as much as I hate to admit it, not many people can throw a stiletto like you.”

  “Thanks.” I snatched the knives, thrusting them a little too forcefully into my holster, one of the blades nipping my thigh. It felt deserved.

  Archer turned, hesitating. Then she slapped a hand on my shoulder, making a noise somewhere between a cough and a dark laugh. “Well… that’s three Tribes down, one to go, crappy leader. Wins so far.”

  I looked back to Arden. Otto was packing his things, as Arden stared blindly at the wall.

  “Winning feels an awful lot like losing,” I breathed.

  Archer nodded sympathetically. “Welcome to war P. Someone always claims victory, but really both sides lose.”

  Triven and Baxter came around the corner. Triven was taking apart and checking the chambers of a handgun I had seen Baxter use on many occasions. I couldn’t muster a smile for either of them. Baxter seemed incapable too. His eyebrows rose, unusually serious. “If we’re followed tonight?”

  I thought of Sedia. Her crazed black eyes, of her desire to join our cause, but mainly her far too accurate knowledge of our movements.

  It wasn’t even a question in my mind.

  “Shoot them.”

  23. INTELLECTS

  A SCREAM TORE free. Erupting before I could clamp my lips around it.

  I shot upright, the bed of paper crinkled under my feet. The hazy light filling the room blinded me for a second before I smashed my eyes into knees. My arms coiled automatically around my legs, pulling everything tighter, trying to disappear.

  Not even Ryker’s pills kept away the nightmares last night.

  A shaky breath rattled my chest. The bed next to me was empty. Triven’s comforting arms nowhere to be found. But I wasn’t alone. I felt her eyes watching me before I saw her.

  Perched in the corner atop a pile of old rags, Veyron watched me. She was chewing on the corner of her thumb. Oblivious to the fact it had started to bleed. We were the only two in the sleeping space. Based on the rumbling in my stomach the rest were probably in the room next to ours eating.

  “Bad dreams?” She paused in the assault on her cuticle.

  The lingering effects of Ryker’s sleeping pills loosened my tongue.

  “I’m sorry we left you.” The words were whispered out from behind my knees.

  Veyron’s face frosted over, every muscle tense—even the scarred ones. She had changed from the girl I met in the bunker. Hardened. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” She snapped.

  My jaw set. I rested it on my knees as I stared back at her.

  I didn’t know.

  Not all of it.

  Yes, I had left her in that alley, but it wasn’t my choice. Maddox had dragged me away from her, from Arden and Archer. We had left them all behind at the hands of the Ravagers. Yet the others had forgiven me. Veyron alone had not, which meant one thing to me. Something had happened to her that hadn’t happened to the others. She didn’t just hate me for abandoning them, she hated me for something else.

  She shook her head at my responding silence in disgust. “I thought not.”

  “Then tell me. What should I be apologizing for?” It was rare that I pleaded, but Veyron had once been someone I would have called a friend and those were even more rare.

  My heartbeat thundered in my ears as the terse silence stretched. For a minute I didn’t think she was going to respond. Then her lips twitched and suddenly she couldn’t bear to look at me.

  “You left us there to die. All of you. Triven, Bowen, you, M-Maddox…” She fumbled over the last name and it made my stomach clench.

  I wanted to protest, to tell her I hadn’t left anyone—I hadn’t been given a choice. I was dragged away from her. But semantics aside, she was right. When Maddox threw me into the passage and sealed us in, I knew we had left them to die. For over a month their presumed deaths had plagued me.

  “Why you?” There was venom in her tone. “Why did he choose you?”

  Though her words were meant to lance, they drew confusion not pain. Had I been blind that she had feelings for Triven? A hundred thoughts whipped around in an instant.

  “He looked at me first. He looked at me, and then he saved you. Twice.” Veyron was shredding bits of paper from her bed stack. When her vibrant eyes whipped up they were filled with angry tears. “Did you even care for him? Did you even flinch when Maddox took that bullet for you?”

  Genuine shock slapped the confused expression off my face. Maddox… not Triven. Veyron had loved Maddox.

  I had never seen them touc
h, never watched them interact—but had I ever looked?

  I had hated the man she loved—and in her greatest time of need, he chose to save me.

  There were so many things I could say to her, so many things I should, but none came out.

  Veyron’s gaze fell away as a tear escaped. She reached, fingers stretching to tangle in hair only to find scars. Her hand fell limply away.

  “It’s not just that…” She said to the floor. “You of all people know what the Ravagers are capable of.”

  I sucked in a shallow breath. My nightmare began to replay in my head.

  “You couldn’t get to me, fine. But you still could have saved me. You should have put a bullet in my head that night.”

  I forced my eyes closed, focusing every fragment of energy on finding my voice. “But you survived.”

  “Not all scars can be seen, Phoenix.”

  I shuddered. Archer and the others had not said anything about Veyron being assaulted that night, but in the chaos, it was possible they didn’t know. A guilty hole widened in my chest. We had left her alone—in so many ways.

  “I’m sorry.” There was more meaning behind the words now. I looked up at her, but she refused to acknowledge me.

  “I don’t care.” Slender fingers still busy with the paper shreds.

  “I know.” I said, but I still needed to say it.

  “After tonight, I’m out.” The paper made ripping noises in the silence. “I won’t fight with you. I’m staying behind with the kids.” She flashed an aggravated wave around the room in general. “All of this was for them. To give them a future.”

  None of this was for you. She didn’t have to add that last part.

  I said nothing, but dipped my chin with understanding.

  I stood to give her some privacy, stopping when she spoke again.

  “A part of me hopes they blow you up.” Her words were choked by tears, not as harsh as before. But honest.

  I kept my back to her, pausing before leaving the room. “I know that too.”

  And I did, I understood. You could love someone and despise them at the same time. The human heart was capable of stranger things. And with that, our conversation—and possibly friendship—was over.

  “YOU GOOD?” ARCHER eyed her fellow marksman speculatively, her tone as accusatory as her glare.

  “Shut up, Archer.” Baxter hissed through clamped teeth.

  She held her tongue, pressing an eye back to her own scope. I glared at the back of Archer’s head, but the truth was, the slight tremor in Baxter’s usually steady hand wasn’t doing much to spur my confidence either. He wasn’t the only one on edge. After our run-in with the Taciturns, everyone felt less safe, especially in the daylight. We weren’t invisible in the city anymore.

  But this was not the time to let fear get the better of us, particularly not Baxter. If his shots weren’t on point, we were screwed. All of us.

  The Adroits were the last on our checklist and so far the only Tribe that had cost us a life. We were approaching from a different side this time, but my eyes still searched for a part of Elin even though there was none to be found. Not that there was much of him left anyway. It was Baxter and Veyron who had laid the groundwork for today’s infiltration, though it was clear neither wanted to be here.

  Getting in touch with the Adroits had taken more planning than any of the other Tribes. But all the time in the world could not predict their constantly changing minefields. One wrong step and we could explode into red mist or fall into a pit of spikes. I had once thought of the Adroits as the lesser evil of all the Tribes, but standing on the rooftop, heart hammering, they were quickly becoming the most dangerous Tribe in my mind. They were the most reserved and yet suddenly the deadliest. They didn’t capture a person, they merely blew you up. There was no fight back against a bomb. One second you were there and the next, boom and you’re gone. I had never liked odds that didn’t yield much chance of survival.

  This plan was well thought out. I tried to remind myself. Even if Veyron said she wanted you dead. I pushed that thought away.

  The smokestacks of the Adroits’ nerve center belched black smoke. Their leader was in there somewhere, hiding safely behind thick walls and miles of IEDs. Wex was the last leader both Veyron and Baxter were aware of, but he was old when both of them defected and in Tartarus, leaders could change overnight. Either way we would not speak to the Adroit leader. We would never be able to get to him. But maybe—if today went as planned—he would come seeking us.

  Three Watchmen—as Veyron and Baxter referred to them—were gathered in a building two down of ours. It was a hovel of a structure, with one warped metal door and no windows. But our ex-Adroits warned us not to be fooled. Hidden under the shack was a dug-out storeroom with concrete walls and enough food to surprise even the Ravagers. These people were deadly at building bombs, but they were also skilled at cultivating food. Little did I know at the time, but it had been most of the ex-Adroits who had fostered the Subversive’s underground food growth. It also explained why I had rarely seen the Adroits outside of their own sector. Why hunt for food when you could grow it in secret on your own turf?

  That building was our target. Not the supplies inside of it, but the people. The three Watchmen in particular. They were the guard dogs of the Adroits, the highest ranking under their esteemed leader. If we could speak to them, they were our best chance of getting our word to Wex—or whoever governed the Tribe now.

  Their purple and gold stained wraps had disappeared into the door nearly ten minutes ago and it was finally time for us to act.

  Veyron’s blonde hair tickled my arm as she crouched next to me, but I didn’t dare acknowledge it. Since our conversation last night, she had gone back to avoiding me and I in turn did my best to ignore her.

  Otto’s hand flashed up in a signal. Peering over the edge, my hand mirrored his and without a word Baxter pulled the trigger. I flinched in anticipation but instead of the explosion I had been expecting the bullet bit into the dirt a few inches wide. A stream of curses hissed from Baxter as the group collectively tensed. If an Adroit saw that, we were done.

  Two heartbeats passed, however, and Baxter sucked in a tight breath. Then letting go, he fired again. If he cursed again, I never heard it.

  An explosion large enough to kill a man charged the air. Then there was another and another, each bullet Baxter sent flying hitting its mark. Many of the bombs he hit caused a chain reaction, but he stayed ahead of them. He had studied the mapped bombs all night. It had paid off.

  “Clear!” he barked, finger never pausing.

  The ground was still pulsing with the concussions, but instead of ducking for cover, Triven and Grenald tossed the ropes down and we headed straight into the minefield.

  Dirt particles swam in the smoke-filled air, making it impossible to see as my feet collided with the ground. I turned in the direction I thought was the street, but a hand grabbed painfully around my bicep, yanking me back.

  I expected Triven, but longer nails dug in, holding me in place as Veyron’s voice emerged from the smoke.

  “Move and die.” Her face materialized in front of me, a cloth pulled over her mouth like mine. Giving my arm another jerk, she turned around sliding her grip to my wrist and began to pull. “Step only where I step or you kill us all.”

  Triven’s hand wound into mine from behind. “Lead the way.”

  Each step was like walking through thick mud, excruciatingly slow and near impossible to see. Twice my toes caught the back of Veyron’s heels, earning me another wrench on the arm. In another place and time, I would have pulled back and put her on her ass, but this was not the time to let my temper get the better of me.

  The dust stung my eyes, tears fighting to keep the dirt out. But Veyron never missed a step. Three times she tugged us sideways, then suddenly she stopped and I stepped on her toe as she turned to face us. Her voice was nearly swallowed by the ringing in my ears, but her crude hand gestures learned from Mouse m
ade her words clear.

  Don’t move. Behind, bomb. In front, pit. Move and die.

  Triven nodded as I stared stiffly back at her, my hands already searching for what we needed. With one last frosty glance, she disappeared in a wisp of smoke and blonde hair. It was then I noticed the explosions had stopped. The air was thinning as the dust settled back to the ground. Shock slowly sank in as the street came into focus and I saw the full extent of Baxter’s target practice.

  Two steps in front of us, a crater yawned nearly twenty feet across what was once the street. The bombs had given us cover and created a barricade of sorts. Shards of glass winked up at us from the pit, along with rusted steel spikes and what looked like sharpened bones. The edge crumbled downward and I had to repress the urge to step back.

  A foul breeze played in my hair, then began to clear the lingering smoke and I saw them.

  The door to the food house was ajar and with their heads gleaming, toes brazenly to the edge of the pit, stood the three Adroit Watchmen. I could see now one was a woman, though she was nearly as tall as the men flanking her. A fine dust covered their clothing, catching in their eyebrows and lashes like fine ash. The woman’s arm rose, gun pointed at my head. But as the smoke faded around us she hesitated. Her fellow Tribesmen raised their own weapons, but no shots were fired.

  Yet.

  Their eyes were no longer looking at me, but at the silver oblong hovering above my palm. The red light of the Sanctuary bomb was visible even in the daylight.

  Pulling my mask down with the other hand, I spoke too loudly in the aftermath of the explosions.

  “I believe we have your attention.”

  The tallest man to the left pulled back the hammer of his gun and pointed it at my face. His right eyebrow arched.

  “I believe you do.”

  24. TRIPWIRES

  A TICKLE IN the back of my throat threatened to undo my bravado. A hacking cough shook my body and the Adroits stiffened in response. The massive crater gave us a false sense of security. Both sides felt unreachable and yet both sides were totally exposed.