by Lane, Summer
They rounded the right side of the rock cliff, coming close to the clearing at the top. Elle stopped. She stayed low. The road curved around the corner here, opening to a wide space that was hidden behind the large granite face. There were four large, makeshift corrals here. Each corral was built of wood and topped with sharp barbed wire. People were packed into each corral, some of them standing, some of them sitting on the ground. Some of them looked like they had passed out and were lying in the dirt, strewn at odd angles.
Slavers were walking between the corrals, armed to the teeth, dressed in black clothes, scarves tied around their faces. They looked like pirates – like mercenaries. There were guards everywhere – except on the rock. No one was guarding the rock. It was a sheer drop-off on the other side, at least four hundred feet to the bottom. A long fall to a quick death.
The guards were armed with more than just AKs. They had swords strapped across their backs, resembling medieval warriors.
“We are so dead,” Elle muttered.
She searched the corrals for the familiar faces of Jay, Georgia and Flash, but she couldn’t spot them. There was no way to see everyone. They could be anywhere.
They could be dead.
Elle shook herself.
If the kids weren’t here, at least she would have closure. At least she’d know that she had tried to do the right thing. She could live with that.
She could live with try.
At the farthest edge of the clearing, a corral was filled with younger prisoners. Elle saw a flash of dark skin and hair, faded cargo pants and a red shirt. Jay? It certainly looked like him, but from this distance, she couldn’t be sure. Near him, there was a girl with a matted tangle of blond curls. Georgia? God, the resemblance was striking. She was wearing a denim jacket, exactly what Georgia had been wearing the morning they had been taken by the Slavers.
But where was Flash?
She didn’t see him, and her heart sank. Maybe he didn’t survive the journey here. Maybe the Slavers killed him. Maybe, maybe, maybe…Elle’s heart hammered against her ribcage. She knew what she needed to do; it was simply a matter of how to get it done. Elle turned her gaze to the guards – there were too many. She couldn’t possibly sneak past them without being spotted.
“There’s only one way we’re getting out of this alive,” Elle whispered to Bravo, keeping one hand on his collar.
Bravo looked at her. You don’t say?
Yes.
She did.
Chapter Eight
The night was freezing. Elle had left her backpack with Bravo at the edge of the forest. No moon. No stars. Only a canopy of thick, dark clouds. Elle shed her coat, wearing a tee with a thermal. Her hands were wrapped with strips of tape. She touched the cold granite of the rock cliff, barely able to see the outline of the rock against the night sky.
She could do this. It would be a piece of cake.
All of those gymnastics competitions and rock-climbing lessons would come in handy.
Thanks for forcing me to be social, Mom, Elle thought sadly.
She picked up a coil of black rope that she had salvaged long ago and kept in her pack. She slung it over her head and across her chest. She had shoved a pair of wire-cutters into the pocket of her cargo pants, a small tool she had picked up long ago in the city. Her katana was strapped across her back, and the Smith and Wesson was secured in her waistband. She had ten shots in the magazine – only ten. Hardly enough to stave off a Slaver army, but it would have to suffice.
Elle found hand and footholds in the side of the rock and began climbing. It was slow, careful work. She didn’t have much light to work with, so she had to take her time. One misstep could send her down the cliff. She pulled herself up, balancing on her toes. She climbed up the far side of the rock, away from the direct view of the Slavers in the lower encampment.
You’re practically there, Elle told herself. You can do this!
She had climbed many buildings in Hollywood after the EMP – when Day Zero had turned the city into an urban jungle. She scaled walls, drain pipes and boardwalks. She was fast and quick, light on her feet. It had kept her alive.
Her fingers were freezing tonight. Elle struggled to maintain a grip on the slick, gravelly granite rock. She glanced down. The forest floor spun beneath her, a hundred feet below. She inhaled quickly and closed her eyes.
“Don’t look down,” she muttered.
Looking down could distract her.
She kept climbing, resting when the muscles in her arms burned. She found a large crevice in the rock and wedged herself into the crack, placing the bulk of her body weight on her legs, letting her arms hang loose for a moment.
Pace yourself, she thought. That’s another thing Mom had always said. Pace yourself and you won’t get so tired at the end of the game.
Sure, Dad had been the one who paid for all of Elle’s gymnastics and climbing classes…but it was Mom who came to every competition and encouraged her.
Okay, keep going, Elle reminded herself. This is not a game. This is real.
Halfway up the rock. There was no turning back now. She had to go through with this. Her heart raced, fear sending pulses of electricity through her body. One wrong move could end everything.
A gust of fresh, cold wind swept over the rock face, blowing strands of hair into Elle’s eyes. She shook them off, her fingers cramping in the cold weather. She pulled herself up to the next handhold, jammed her foot into a supporting crack, and moved higher.
The climb went slow. At last, she reached the top of the cliff. She paused…waiting. There were faint voices, and she knew that she would have to do this quickly. The granite summit had a shelf of earth and grass. Manzanita bushes grew on the edge of the cliff. Elle pulled herself up, level with the ground, peering through the bushes, her legs a hundred and fifty feet above the road below.
By the time she reached the top, her arms ached. She felt deprived of oxygen. Or maybe she was just anxious. She didn’t care. She tied the rope around the base of a small tree, keeping low. She dropped the rest of the rope over the side of the cliff. It fell almost to the bottom.
Her next item of business was the corral. She could see Jay sitting with his knees against his chest inside the barbed wire fencing. He looked cold and hungry. Dark hollow rings had sunk into his skin, beneath his eyes.
“Jay,” she said, low.
He looked up.
His face was one of utter disbelief.
“Elle?”
Elle gestured for him to be silent. She clipped through the barbed wire one piece at a time, balancing on the balls of her feet, keeping her head down. The wire was tough. Her hands ached from forcing the blades through the metal. The guards roamed between the fencing, masked shadows of the night.
Elle was determined to escape unnoticed.
“You’re here?” Jay rasped. “That’s impossible! How the hell could you possibly find us here?”
“Shut up!” she hissed, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. Nothing but bushes and a sheer cliff were behind her, but everywhere else was danger. She clipped through the last piece of wiring.
“Come on, move,” she whispered.
Jay stared at her, shocked. It was as if his brain wouldn’t process the fact that Elle was crouched before him, offering him a route to freedom. Elle reached through the slice of fencing and grabbed his collar.
“Move!” she commanded. “We will all die if you don’t get it together!”
Jay blinked. Something shifted in his eyes, and suddenly he was moving, slipping through the crack. He was weak, dehydrated and starved, by the looks of it. He struggled to get out, holding his head in his hands.
Most of the prisoners were asleep. Flash was lying in the dirt with his eyes closed. Georgia’s arm was around his small shoulders in a protective position, trying to shield him from the chill. Elle crawled into the corral, keeping her belly to the dirt, her head down. She slowly shook Georgia’s shoulders. The girl didn’t stir. She was pro
bably used to being jostled and poked in living quarters like these.
“Georgia,” Elle whispered. “Wake up. Come on. We’re on a schedule.”
Georgia stirred, opening her bleary eyes.
She focused on Elle’s face, gasping with surprise. Elle slapped her hand over her mouth, pressing her palm against Georgia’s lips.
“Shhh,” she said. “Get Flash. Just move.”
Georgia hesitated for only a moment, getting a bearing on her surroundings, then gently woke Flash. Elle crawled out of the corral, Georgia and Flash following. They remained silent, staring at Elle like she was a ghost. Georgia touched Elle’s arm, as if trying to convince herself that the girl was real.
“You have to trust me for this next part,” Elle whispered.
She stayed low, gesturing for them to follow. She returned to the cliff, showing them the rope. “Use this,” she explained. “Climb down. Move fast. Be quiet.” Georgia stared at the rope.
“I can’t…no way. That’s a huge cliff. That’s a freaking mile!” She looked up, frantically gripping the ground. “No, Elle. There’s got to be another way.”
“Sure, you can go back through the camp and get killed by the guards,” Elle replied. “Seriously. Climb. It’s only a little over a hundred feet. Wrap the rope between your legs and over your shoulder. The friction will burn, but it will get you down to the bottom.”
“I’m going,” Jay said.
He didn’t wait for anyone’s response. He grabbed the rope, secured it over his shoulder and between his legs, slid his body down, and began descending, slipping below the encampment, using the rope as a way to steady himself. Elle peeked her head over the edge of the cliff, watching the shadow of his body get farther and farther away.
“Your turn, Flash,” Elle commanded.
Flash swallowed. His hands trembled. He was sweating.
“Don’t look back,” Elle warned. “Stay focused on what you’re doing, do you understand?”
Flash nodded.
“You’re going to be fine, I promise,” she said. “Go.”
Flash slowly lowered himself down to the granite shelf and took hold of the rope, using it to guide himself down the rock face. Jay was moving quickly. He was already halfway to the bottom. Good.
“Georgia?” Elle asked.
Georgia looked her with wide, glassy eyes.
“I can’t,” she said. “I just can’t.”
“Then you’re staying behind,” Elle stated, her voice firm. “Because I didn’t come all this way to get caught by Slavers.”
“I just—I can’t, Elle!”
Georgia’s voice pitched, echoing off the rocks. Elle froze. Georgia held her breath, covering her own mouth with her hand. She looked horrified. At first, there was nothing but silence. But a Slaver guard had caught the sound and wandered to the corner of the encampment to check on the prisoners. From his vantage point, the corral was intact and everything was silent. Elle was a creature of the shadows, invisible. But Georgia was not. She was a head of bright yellow hair reflecting in the firelight. The guard’s face was impossible to see through the hood and mask, tilting his head, walking closer. He stared in their direction for several long, terrifying moments.
Elle didn’t dare breathe. She stared at the guard’s feet, knowing that if she stared at his eyes, he would somehow be drawn to her.
And then he sprinted forward. He was quiet, unspeaking. But he had seen them, and Elle’s heart dropped like a stone to the pit of her stomach. She turned to Georgia. “Go now!” she pleaded. Georgia shook her head, rooted to the spot.
The guard pulled his sword from the sheath hanging on his belt. It was a curved weapon, glinting like a crescent moon, sharp enough to split hairs. Elle moved forward and knelt down on one knee. She pulled out her katana and leaped forward, striking an overhead blow at the guard. Her blade collided with the guard’s curved sword.
Elle’s arm ached from the impact. Her body slid backward a few inches but she stayed balanced. The guard was strong and highly skilled – a better swordsman than Elle. She realized this immediately. Elle and the guard whirled and struck, thrust and dodged. He dropped a powerful stroke at her head. She caught it, gritting her teeth. She pushed hard against the force of his blade, holding him there. It pulled her muscles.
Tears of effort sprang to her eyes from the strain. She locked gazes with the guard, his blue eyes glittering at her through the slit in the hood. He suddenly shoved her backward and Elle rolled, dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. She staggered to her feet. Georgia was standing on the edge of the cliff, staring at the drop. She looked at Elle.
Elle looked at the guard. He ran toward her. Elle darted to the side, narrowly avoiding him. She ducked left, seeing Georgia disappear over the side of the cliff. It all happened in a split second. The guard moved toward the rope tied to the tree, raising his sword. Elle saw what he was going to do. He was going cut the rope. Jay, Georgia and Flash would fall, and it would all be over.
Elle leaped forward, jamming her shoulder into the guard. The air rushed out of his lungs and he stumbled sideways. There was a long second where Elle thought that he would somehow bob back up and slash her open with his sword, but that moment didn’t come. He lost his balance on the edge of the cliff, grabbed Elle’s arm, and they both tumbled down the side of the mountain.
Elle rolled over and over herself. Her face stung, her bones crashed against objects. It was a dark blur of pain and falling and weightlessness and then hitting the earth once again. Gravity was in control. She was tumbling head over heels alongside the guard, their swords clattering behind them, clanging against the rock.
It vaguely occurred to Elle that they hadn’t fallen off the sheer drop on the cliff. If they had, it would have been one long, airy drop with a short, sudden stop at the bottom. They would both be dead, and that would be the end of it.
But they were still rolling. They were tumbling at a sharp angle, finally coming to a shattering halt on level ground. Elle’s head swam. She tried to right herself, falling over and stumbling. She held her head in her hands, tasting something sour and metallic. Blood? She spit on her hand. Yes, lots of blood.
The guard was only ten or so feet away from her, barely a shape in the darkness. There were trees everywhere. Elle wished she could find her sword. The Smith and Wesson was still jammed into her pants, somehow, but she couldn’t use that. The sound of one shot would alert the entire encampment that there was an escape in progress. She couldn’t compromise the safety of the others to save herself. The guard slowly stood up. Elle was too tired – wracked with too much pain – to take him by surprise, to kill him.
“Please, just let me go,” she said softly. “I promise I’ll never come back.”
The guard tilted his head. Stifling silence. No answer.
He lunged forward. He grabbed Elle by the hair and slammed her face against the dirt, grinding her cheek into the ground. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. This was it. He was going to snap her neck – she was dead. She felt the pressure building on her spine. Her vision went starry.
There was a low scream and the pressure released. Elle wanted to scream. Was she paralyzed? Was this what it was like to lose sensation? The guard fell sideways and suddenly Elle’s vision brightened. The blood returned to her head. She clawed the dirt and forced herself upright. There was a blur of white teeth and a menacing, guttural growl. Bravo had sunk his teeth into the guard’s forearm. The guard was crying out in pain.
Bravo ripped a chunk of his flesh out, tossing it away. He growled lower, lunging again, snapping at his neck. The guard ran backward, tripping over a bush in the darkness, sprawling on his back. Bravo jumped on top of the guard and growled in his face, blood dripping from his fangs.
“Bravo,” Elle said. “Bravo, down.”
The dog’s tail twitched.
“Leave him,” Elle commanded. “Out.”
Elle slowly stood, swaying. She was dizzy. She touched her cheek. It had b
een slashed open during the tumble down the mountain. It stung. She could feel her lip going numb.
At the base of the sloping hill, she saw the curved sword beside her katana. She picked up her weapon and sheathed it. The guard lay on the ground, trembling, bloody. Bravo backed away, never removing his laser-like gaze from the man.
“Remember that we let you live,” Elle said. “Come on, Bravo.”
They left the guard in the silence of the woods.
Chapter Nine
Elle ran quickly and quietly, dodging boulders and making her way through the pine trees. The smell of sugar pine and cedar was strong in the air. The morning was crisp and silent. Elle was little more than a shadow, sprinting through the forest. And beside her, Bravo ran, too. He was quieter than Elle, his hunter’s instincts making him fast and alert.
Elle’s heart raced.
There was no stopping now.
There were no more options. This was the last resort.
She had stopped during the night only to tend to the cut on her cheek. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought – surface level. Enough to leave a scar but not enough to kill her. She had a medical kit in her backpack. She swiped the wound with antiseptic – it had stung worse than anything in the world – and slapped a bandage over it. The rest of her wounds could wait. All she could do was run.
Since escaping the Slaver encampment last night, the Slavers had realized that one of their guards was missing about thirty minutes after Elle and Bravo had left him at the bottom of the cliff. An alarm had rung through the stillness of the forest. They hadn’t stopped moving since then.
Elle was tracking the progress of Jay, Georgia and Flash. She had almost caught up with them. They were nearly out of the thickest part of the forest, moving toward the sloping, open mountains that led toward Palm Springs.