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

by Jennifer Wilson

  I repressed a smug smile. Ryker had been right, they were not expecting us and they had not been prepared for us to fight back with their own weapons.

  The soldiers began to drop like rocks, their knees colliding hard with the pavement as fear drained the color from their faces. Some even began to plead for their lives. Only a few remained standing, defiant for what they believed in.

  “For The Minister!” A large soldier yelled as he stepped over his dead leader and took aim at my face.

  I prepared to fire first, but the young man I had noticed earlier beat me to the punch. With a roar, the boy threw himself out of the crowd of citizens and into the side of the soldier.

  The boy attacked with little skill, but what he lacked in training, he made up for with rage. Caught off guard, the soldier went down in a heap, the youth mauling him like a wild animal. By the time the solider had recovered his wits, it was too late. The boy had taken the man’s rifle and was pointing it at his head. There wasn’t any hesitation in the boy. He pulled the trigger. The soldier recoiled, but as it had for me the first time I tried to shoot Fandrin, the gun merely clicked. Stupidly, the soldier smiled in relief. But the boy flipped the rifle in his hands, hastily turning the highly technical weapon into a mere club. The result, however, was equally effective. The rest of us looked on in horror as the boy’s screams tore out and he beat the fallen soldier to death. His cries of rage gradually turned to sobs and still he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The soldier’s blood splattered the boy, painting him red and pooling in the street.

  Eventually, Triven moved to stop the young man, his expression a mixture of disgust and compassion, but he paused. The other citizens were now rising cautiously approaching the young man, hands moving to still their deranged friend.

  “And they call us heathens.”

  I started at the sound of Teya’s voice. Not sure when she or the Wraiths had joined our assault. She was watching the boy being dragged away from the mutilated soldier.

  I was about the ask the Tribal leader where she had come from, when the woman’s keen eyes darted to something farther down the street past my shoulder. She snarled, lips twitching up.

  My head whipped in the direction she was looking, and I was moving before another word could be spoken.

  In a pure white uniform, a soldier was marching down the street towards us. In his arms, gun pressed firmly to her head, was Archer.

  31. ENLIGHTENMENT

  I COULDN’T SEE the soldier’s face. A hat eclipsed it, the brim pulled low. But I could see Archer’s.

  My feet had hardly taken ten steps before her expression flipped. Archer’s tense jaw loosened, her submissive stance shifted, and looking me directly in the eye, she winked.

  I slowed, then stopped.

  The soldier restraining her paused, noticing the change in her body language, but it was too late. Archer suddenly shifted, grasping his arm in an iron grip and with a throaty roar she ducked, flipping the surprised man first into the air, then slamming him violently to the ground. She snatched a knife from who knows where and aimed it at her captor. Though he had been caught off guard, the soldier recovered quickly. Rolling back onto his feet, he righted himself, stance ready for a fight. He seemed vaguely aware that every weapon in the street was on him, but Archer didn’t allow him time to care. She was already advancing, knife thrusting with impressive speed. The man could do little else than fend her off. Archer’s skills never ceased to amaze me. The girl was nearly as lethal as I was, and she did it with one hand.

  “Archer!” Triven’s voice called out from somewhere close behind me. A warning. A reminder not to kill unless necessary.

  The soldier’s head snapped up at Triven’s cautioning, then shifting slightly, it seemed he was staring directly at me. That short second cost him however. Greatly.

  Though Archer snarled at Triven’s reminder, she twisted the knife sideways in her hand and instead of stabbing, punched the soldier square in the face. The force of the blow knocked the hat from the man’s head and as raven hair spilled out, I caught a glimpse of blue eyes with a scar above the left one.

  I sprang into motion, rushing toward them, arms waving as Archer leapt on the man and began pummeling.

  Panic amplified my voice. “Archer, stop. STOP!”

  She looked up, puzzled by my tone as the man at her feet let out a groan. Holding his stomach, clearly no longer fighting back.

  “What the hell P?!” She snapped, knife tip once again pointing at the officer. Triven appeared at my side with Grenald and Cortez right behind. Both looked equally confused.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Triven muttered, crossing his arms.

  “You’re alive?” I said, shocked. It was in this moment, I realized I had truly assumed he was dead.

  The soldier coughed, sitting upright and I was relieved to see his face. Well… until he spoke.

  “Seems that way, doesn’t it? About time, Princess.” Ryker smiled red and spat a mouthful of blood, his tongue probing for loose teeth. There were probably a few, Archer wasn’t one to hold back.

  I frowned, relief replaced by annoyance. “I could say the same to you. Nice of you to show up after we did all the fighting for you.”

  “What can I say, I’m all about good timing.” He retorted shaking his head twice as if to rattle a few things back into place.

  His usual air of arrogance was there, but Ryker looked different… off. His face had grown thinner in the passing weeks. Dark circles pooled under blue eyes that had lost some of their vibrancy. Something haunted him now. Questions bombarded my mind, catching on the tip of my tongue. Something in Ryker’s look told me not to ask. Not yet. Not here.

  “Ummm… Hello?!” Archer waved her hand at Ryker’s bruised face, glaring at me.

  “Oh, uh Archer meet Ryker.” I gestured to each in turn, trying to ignore the changes in his face.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “As in our inside rebel? The big bad traitor to the crown or whatever?”

  “Yup.” Triven said, suppressing a snort.

  Ryker pulled a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and straightened, wobbling as he tried to stand. Archer quickly offered her hand, pulling him a little harder than necessary. Ryker jerked upright with surprise and Archer gave him a weighty once-over. Standing toe to toe, the two were nearly the same height.

  “Hmm,” She pondered him. “I thought you’d be taller.”

  Ryker frowned, looking us over, eyebrows knitting.

  “I thought…” He stopped himself.

  “We’d be more savage? Grunting? Eating the dead off the street?” Archer filled in the gaps. Ryker didn’t need to respond. We all knew it was what he was thinking. We were the monsters outside The Wall. Archer tilted her head looking him over again, then shrugged. “Well, you’re not a bad fighter, for a pretty boy. I guess.”

  And without another word, she walked away towards Baxter who was still guarding the previously subdued soldiers.

  Ryker gazed after her, his expression hard to read. “Nice friends.”

  “The best,” Triven replied. I just smirked.

  There was a noise like a bird call farther down the street and we all spun, guns at the ready. Ryker, however, refocused. Signaling for us to stand down, he called back in a similar manner and seven shadows stepped out into the streets. As faces came into view I began to recognize them from the training session I had taught here.

  Rebels.

  But there were so few.

  “That’s all?” I wasn’t sure what I had expected from our welcoming committee, but it was most certainly more than this. And honestly, I hadn’t expected Ryker either.

  Triven held up a hand, warning our people that these were allies. But none of us relaxed. We may have over taken the guards here, but there were plenty more where they came from.

  “That’s all we could spare.” Ryker gave me a stern sideways look. “A lot has changed since you three left.”

  Ryker’s eyebrows pulled
together as he glanced over our rag-tag group. It didn’t take me long to realize who he was looking for.

  “She’s safe.” I kept my voice low as if Fandrin could hear us. “She’s not here.”

  Ryker’s brows loosened in surprise, but he didn’t press the matter. Not out here in the open anyway.

  “There’s obviously a lot of catching up to be done,” Triven said, still scanning the streets.

  Ryker finished his thought in agreement. “But this isn’t the place.”

  He was right. We wouldn’t be safe for long. Especially if the power came back on completely and with it, the cameras.

  Ryker touched his ear, nodding to himself. “Sort out the joiners. Mansforth, Hives, Ganes—take care of the rest. We have ten minutes.” He turned to me. “Prepare your Tribes to move out.”

  “They’re not my Tribes.” I retorted, sneaking a furtive glance backward and hoping Teya had not overheard that comment. Fortunately, she seemed unwilling to come too close, but I could tell she was now straining to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “I don’t really care whose they are. They can come with or they can stay out here, but their chances are better with us.” Ryker eyed them suspiciously. The Wraith leader was certainly listening now.

  Teya gave me a sharp bob of agreement and it dawned on me that we might not be rid of the Tribes easily. I should have been grateful in a way since this is what we had wanted. But I couldn’t shake the nagging voice hissing inside my head, or the wary glare on Archer’s face.

  The Tribes were not to be trusted.

  I HAD WANTED to press Ryker about what the hell had been going on—what the hell we had just walked into—but he shook me off, moving to help clear the streets, a litany of unanswered questions trailing out behind him. What had my grandfather done to him? How had he escaped? Who was dead? Could I still trust him? Each question spurred a hundred more. And each would have to wait. So much had happened here too. And obviously, not just to the city, but to him. The swagger in his step had faded. I tried not to think about it, whatever it was.

  The rebels moved fast, rounding up the citizens, taking over our guard of the remaining soldiers. They were like a machine made of well-choreographed parts. It dawned on me then, this wasn’t the first time this situation had happened. The night’s gruesome event we had stumbled upon had become a norm in our absence. Ryker was right, things had changed here.

  Unsure of what to do with myself, I stood back and watched. In fact, most of us from Tartarus did. The Wraiths damn near disappeared into the shadows as I sent a few scouts to keep watch. It was suddenly obvious we were outsiders in a world we knew little about, a world that feared us. A few Subversive members had offered to help, but the citizens had recoiled in fear. Even the rebels seemed leery of us. Triven, Mouse and I had been people they knew, we had a history with them. But decked out in war paint, clad with weapons, the citizens of Tartarus were not given the same trust. We were here because they had requested our help. And, we had just saved their lives. Yet somehow, we were still the monsters. It was hard not to resent their fear.

  So instead, we tended to our own. We had lost a few more of our people to the guard’s startled shots, and though they were not anyone I knew well, the lack of their presence could still be felt. Our survivors now wore makeshift bandages and smelled of The Healer’s touch. I had been right to seek her out and, in an odd way, it felt as though her legacy lived on with each person’s pain eased, each potential infection stopped.

  Ryker’s rebels had shot six more guards before offering immunity to the rest of the frightened civilians and the remaining soldiers. In the end, five citizens chose to join the ranks of the rebel army of their own accord, while the others only wanted to remain neutral. The few lingering soldiers were quick to remove their silver uniforms, but refused to meet anyone’s eye. I had to wonder if their surrender was sincere or just an act of self-preservation. From the contemptuous looks and twitching fists on the civilians, they were thinking along the same lines.

  The group of civilians wanting no involvement were escorted to a safe house, where Ryker assured they would be safe until this was over. Two of his guards took them to another tunnel access, separate from the one we were to take. As they watched us suspiciously, eyes shifting from the access tunnel back toward what had presumably been their own homes, Ryker promised it would not be for long, that they would be home soon. I had to control my expression.

  I had read history books of the Old World, wars could last for decades. We all wanted this over quickly, but the reality of the matter was, it might not be and probably would not be. Any promise of that was most likely a flat-out lie.

  The surrendered soldiers were taken toward another access point by the three guards Ryker had called to earlier. Triven’s brow furrowed as we watched them.

  “We don’t kill them.” A short rebel with thick black hair and a narrow frame had been watching us. “But we can’t put them in with the civies either. Wouldn’t last the night.”

  He nodded to our right, at the blood-smattered boy lingering hesitantly next to Grenald and Cortez. Unsurprisingly, the boy had been one of the ones to join the rebels—the first in fact. Though calmed now, anger still contorted his face as he watched the stripped soldiers being forced into line. I was positive if he had a gun in hand that could fire, he would have used it. I thought of the Ravagers. Given the chance, this same situation, I would have killed them too. I stared at the boy, not looking away when his fiery eyes met mine. I knew that look of hate. His father was in the pile of bodies behind us.

  Yes, I would have killed them too.

  The short rebel was right. Lock the oppressors and the oppressed in the same room, and things would get ugly. Fast.

  It didn’t matter if the soldiers had been under orders or not. Following orders is still a choice, it just gives you an excuse to do terrible things in someone else’s name. But at the end of the day, it’s your hands covered in blood. The fear in the soldiers’ eyes showed that truth.

  I watched as the pile of dead bodies dressed in white, our friends added to the top, was lit on fire. The few lingering citizens mourned their loved ones, knowing there was no time for ceremony and across from them, our people did the same. The bodies burned, dark smoke filling the air, but their blood on the streets remained. A reminder.

  “What was happening here?” Otto whispered next to me, his gun pointed aimlessly at the stained street.

  Baxter answered. “It was a culling.”

  “A culling?” Grenald’s deep voice questioned, fixated on the flames.

  Otto answered, his gun lowering as realization hit him. “A purge… they were hunting for—”

  “For us.” A tall woman dressed in grey with a beaky nose and sharp eyes had turned away from the burning bodies and was walking toward us.

  My body reacted angrily—muscles tensing, heart pumping—but part of me also felt strangely relieved. I hadn’t seen her before now, but her presence didn’t surprise me.

  “Fiona.” I acknowledged her with cool reverence. The slender woman pulled herself up to an impressive height, stopping a few paces shy of our group. Though her uniform was gone, she still looked like a solider, square shoulders, rigid back, head held high.

  She nodded at me, but her thin mouth twisted as though the idea of saying my name soured her tongue.

  “They’re hunting for rebels?” Triven stepped toward her and offered her his hand in greeting. She took it with a firm shake. Her issue was obviously still only with me then, nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

  She shook her blonde head, chin lowering. Even Fiona’s hard features couldn’t hide the disgust and shame. “Most of us had already gone underground, Fandrin and his little army couldn’t touch us. He knows that. So, this is his way of flushing us out. Killing those we love, killing innocents. The old man executes a few people every raid, claims they had joined our cause. Then promises he’ll take care of anyone who is found innocent, who is loyal.
The worst part is, people are turning on us. Blaming the rebels for his cruelty.” Fiona snarled, then sighed staring at the fire again. I realized then how tired she looked. “We can barely keep up. This was the seventh raid tonight. Thirty-five citizens dead in the last three days. We can’t get to all of them.”

  Ryker’s short tone earlier made sense now as a forgotten thought clicked into place. We didn’t have the beacon any more. It had died with Nos.

  “You weren’t coming here to find us.” I stepped next to Fiona. She was watching Ryker as he set fire to the soldiers’ vehicle.

  “Not everything is about you.” She said curtly. I turned away from her to start rounding up our people when she added quietly. “Thank you for getting here before we could. For stopping them.” Her sharp eyes narrowed as Ryker picked up a small child and placed her safely into her mother’s shaking arms. They would be joining us. Though my own arms ached for another little girl, I was grateful Mouse wasn’t here. That she was safe. I pressed my hand on her drawing, still securely stowed over my heart.

  “Like you said, it’s not all about me anymore.”

  32. WALLED

  I T WAS HARD to keep my claustrophobia in check as we moved through the tunnels below the city. The barrel walls seemed to breathe as the light from the rebels’ torches cast long shadows around us. Like the rest of the city, the power down here was patchy. A rebel woman I recognized but hadn’t bothered to learn her name, said they had to take out most of the Sanctuary’s power to bring down The Wall and the generators were designed to focus solely on getting that back up before powering the city again. They estimated we had almost an hour left before the Sanctuary’s full power system was once again back under the Ministry’s control. And though they seemed confident in their assessment, it did not go unnoticed that their steps seemed to speed up with every passing minute. Throats cleared tensely behind me. Fingers drummed on weapons. No one was at ease. And with good reason.