by Talis Jones
It looks just as I remembered. We enter from the west leaving the Grounder behind and well hidden, but as I look at the looming forest a familiarity tugs within me unleashing a bubble of anxiety and excitement that I hadn’t expected. Riker takes it all in with masked wonder. We push past the wild exterior of nettles and nature’s signs telling us to go home and leave it in peace. The beautiful trees and blooms only just begin to greet us when I see it.
Blackened trunks and ash smothered with sand carried on the winds. Hesitant tendrils of new growth poke up from the ground ready to pull the blackened corpses beneath its roots and reclaim the forest for new life. But time has not passed quick enough and the healing process is slow. My eyes look past the minty green shoots and sprouts because all they can see is the wreckage left beneath.
We walk for perhaps an hour before we reach the village and tears threaten to choke me unless I set them free. But I don’t. I keep them locked up tight and slip back on my mask of cool indifference as I scan the scene before me.
Rubble, charred hunks of wood, trees and homes set ablaze, possessions strewn everywhere and half buried by time. No bodies. I’m quick to notice the lack of bones yet no sigh of relief fills me.
I shuffle through tragedy’s ashes until I find the path leading down to the sanctuary they’d built for their dead. I’d only visited it once and it gave me the chills so I never went back. My boots crunch over history one step at a time and Riker follows behind me silent as absence. A breeze kicks up and it shifts the carbon flakes on the ground tossing loose pieces into the air where it gets caught in my hair.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, gasp.
My eyes widen and Riker swears under his breath. The little church that had once stood humble but tall had been torched like the rest of the camp. And at its feet stands a massive gaping hole torn into the ground filled with bodies. A careless burial. Not enough dirt had bothered to cover them and I see their bones and melted hands reaching up out of the soil decaying, still silently screaming for mercy.
I sink to the ground and force myself to look. To look. I sit and stare taking in every detail until I’ve controlled the sorrow, the sobs, and the rage shaking my lungs. I let no cry pry open my lips. I let no tears wet my cheeks. I stare at the disgusting sight in front of me in silence and force myself to look, to remember, to accept. My thumb spins the ring on my finger restlessly.
I look and look and I let nothing but icy belief set down roots in my heart. But the one thought I cannot catch, the one truth that slips between my fingers taunting me is blame. This was my fault.
“This isn’t your fault,” Riker mutters quietly, reassuringly, sternly.
He’s too good at reading me, he knows me too well. I stand slowly and face him. Without looking back I stretch out my arm behind me and point at the ruins. “That’s Lucas’ mark carved into that wall,” I say. “He tracked down his son, or maybe he knew where he hid all along, but when he found his son dead he found out about me except I wasn’t here to confess so he punished those I left behind.
I’ve been gallivanting across the country telling myself there’s no way Lucas could find out or that even if he did he would never punish anyone besides me for the crime. And all that time those people have been trapped in that hole. While I took off with Connors those people were rounded up, questioned, shot, burned and buried.”
“Lucas is a psychopath,” Riker reminds me calmly. “There was no way you could know, nothing you could’ve done, so don’t start feeling sorry for yourself about it.”
“You know me far too well to ever tell me that,” I hiss angrily.
“Then what are you going to do about it?” he asks sharply, blocking my attempt to storm off.
I hold his steady gaze. “I’m gonna get even, Riker. But not until after I’ve had a word with the old man and not until after I’ve paid proper respects to the dead.”
I shove past him but he moves out of my way appeased by my answer. I hike towards the river and kneel at its edge, the falls a gentle roar in my ears. Wrenching off my backpack I take out three sheets of paper. Folding them carefully I shape them into three little boats. I don’t have the materials or the know-how to make the ceremonial floats I saw for the old man’s funeral but I can make these.
I begin humming the melody to their song of grieving. I don’t remember the words but I’ll never forget its tune. Stepping knee deep into the water I place the first little boat in its gentle current. I wait until it’s almost to the bend before setting down the second boat then finally the third. One for the people I knew, one for those I didn’t, and a third asking for forgiveness.
I know it’s time to sing the celebration song but I don’t have it in me. I can’t bring the notes to my lips so I stand there in silence, cool waters swirling around my legs, mourning in my bones.
I shake it off. Retreating to the bank I grab Riker’s hand and climb out of the river. Once my pants are rolled back down and my boots are laced up tight I lead him back to the main campsite. I stomp through it without looking until we’ve reached a tiny hidden pathway on its southern edge. You’d never see it if you weren’t looking for it. I personally had never followed its path but I’d spied Connors slipping through whenever he wanted to meet with the old man. I hope the Rangers hadn’t found it.
Thorns catch my clothes and scratch my face and I can’t help but fully realize how secluded this guy was. He clearly wasn’t fond of visitors if this was the sort of welcome he gave. At last the dense trees open up and I sigh gratefully at the sight of his small hut, weathered but untouched. Walking up to the front door I slowly push it open and slip inside, Riker close behind me.
The one-room home is unexpectedly tidy. Whether he lived this way or if someone had tidied up after his death I’ll never know but I don’t much care. I start opening drawers and searching under his bed, behind the bookshelf, anywhere he might have hidden papers of importance.
“What exactly are we looking for?” asks Riker as he glances warily out of the tiny window.
“His notes on Sanctuary,” I confess.
“Fury—”
I cut him off. “Don’t bother. I just need to know what he knew, okay?” Riker nods and returns to gazing out the window, his jaw twitching with unease. I don’t blame him, this place is creepy especially after leaving the wreckage that lies just beyond the trees.
Frustrated I put my hands on my hips and think. I’d found books and papers but nothing revolutionary. My eyes settle on his bed. Rushing over I lift his mattress and grin victoriously. I snatch the hidden leather journal and let the mattress fall back onto its rusted frame. I flip through the pages. It’s mostly a diary but—
“Can you please read that once we’re out of here?” Riker asks nervously.
“What if we’re ambushed on the way out before I can read some big secret?” I challenge.
“What if we’re ambushed while you sit on your ass trying to find that big secret?” he challenges right back.
Something creaks and although I’m sure it’s just the wind caressing these old wooden boards my nerves dance frantically until I’m on my feet shoving the journal into my bag. “Fine, let’s go.”
Just as my boots hit the dirt outside the door I lose my breath in surprise. I’m standing face to face with a Ranger. We gather our wits at the same moment. Bang! He crumples at my feet but the sound of the gunshot has his comrade bursting through the woods after it.
“Couldn’t you have just knocked him out?” Riker hisses.
“Too late,” I apologize.
Riker shoots the second Ranger just as he bursts through the trees and we take off running before any others can follow us. “What the hell are Rangers still doing around here anyway?” I shout as our feet pound the ground with fury and fear.
“Lucas probably left a couple of them behind just in case you ever decided to return. Which you did. So now we’re running.”
Between labored breaths I manage to say I’m sorry but Riker just tear
s through the woods matching my pace shouting a brief “Just run!” So run I did.
I thought I heard boot steps chasing behind us but twenty minutes later we slow to a light jog and hear nothing but silence pressing in around us. We walk the rest of the way to the Grounder, footsteps light so we can cover our tracks as we go.
I sit leaning against my bedroll by the fire as I skim through the old man’s writings. Riker strums his guitar softly beside me.
“Anything good?” he asks.
I’m about to admit defeat thus far when my eyes catch on something. Riker notices my sudden shift and at once he’s laid his guitar to the side. “What is it?”
“Hang on,” I murmur completely focused on what my eyes are reading and re-reading.
I take too long and the tension cuts him. “Fury, if you don’t tell me right now I’m going to snatch that journal from your lovely fingers and read for myself.”
I clutch the yellowed pages to my chest. “Fine,” I huff. “He writes about his son.”
“So?”
I glare at his impatience. “His son managed to smuggle himself and his son out of the Rochester Alliance. They managed to meet up with the old man in Virginia before they were captured. The old man managed to get away but his son was shot and his grandson was taken prisoner back to the R.A.”
“And?”
“And if you don’t stop pushing me I’m gonna throw my elbow into your nose,” I snap. “He doesn’t give away any details but he writes about his grandson being special. It’s why they wanted him so bad. His son was a respected scientist in the R.A. but apparently when the others found out about his son they wanted to include him in the research but he’d refused.
The old man’s mission was to bring his grandson to Sanctuary except that they were caught so instead the old man’s been trying to reach Sanctuary himself until he had an accident that crippled his leg and left him here. He’s been trying to spread word of Sanctuary and I guess he finally trusted Connors because he wrote him a letter asking him to reach Sanctuary and request their help in rescuing his grandson.”
“Wait, Connors knew about this?” Riker asks surprised.
“No, he wrote the letter but I guess he never got the chance to give it to him.” I hold up the folded piece of paper and hand it to Riker to read for himself.
When he hands it back his face is set. “What does this mean, Fury?” He says it like he already knows and is dreading the answer.
“It means that Sanctuary is real,” I breathe. “And it means that I want to rescue his grandson and bring him there.”
“I knew it,” Riker bleats. “Damn it, Fury.”
“It’s real, Riker. And the old man explains exactly where they’re hiding,” I argue. “There’s some kid out there who needs our help and I’m gonna give it to him. I’m tired of doing nothing but causing trouble. I need a purpose, Riker. Okay? I need this.”
Riker holds my face between his rough palms. “I never said I wouldn’t help. I just wish for once we could live together without gaining yet another enemy. When I was locked up that’s all I could think about. I didn’t want to stick thorns in the S.C.’s paws anymore, I just wanted to be with you. But you wanted Missouri and now Missouri wants this.” He lets out a soft breathy laugh. “Damn it, Fury.”
I blink up at him. “You never told me that.”
He lets me go as he shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter.”
“Of course it matters,” I murmur.
He looks at me hopefully but it vanishes just as quick. He knows me too well. “But first we gotta save the kid.” I nod biting my lip and hoping he won’t hate me. “It’s not gonna be easy to sneak onto R.A. territory and break into some high security facility. I’ve never been there, you’ve never been there, we have absolutely no idea what we’re up against.”
“But you’ll help me?” I ask hesitantly.
“I told you, I’d fight through Hell for you,” he smiles. “Look, I know how you latch onto a goal like a bloodhound so you’re not going to like what I have to say but I need you to hear me out.”
“What is it?” I ask suspiciously.
“We’re going to need Shade.”
CHAPTER 36
Slipping into Kansas we park the Grounder under a copse of trees and take turns scouting the garrison nearby. We need a major compound, not just any outpost, and the nearest one is smack dab in the middle of Kansas right in Maria’s territory. Not that that matters much, we hardly have a place left where we are welcome anymore.
Three years of traveling with Riker has shown me a lot. In particular that the dust lands only swallowed most of the country’s center. The edges still shine green and lush. Carolina still adorns itself in Spanish moss, Indiana still shimmers in the autumn, and between Kansas and Colorado there are even beautiful sprouts of life, at least until you run smack dab into the enormous gray walls keeping unmentionables out of the Pacific Confederation and keeping their civilians strictly within.
“Quit flirting with foliage, Fury,” Riker teases tersely. “We have one shot to do this. Any slip up and they’ll go on full lock down.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know how risky this is. Government buildings, in particular major garrisons, are immensely more secure than prisons for pesky criminals. We can’t just lob a grenade and sprint away with a computer.
My head tilts back and I grimace at the sliver of moon smiling coldly above. “Let’s go.”
Edging our way to its outer walls I let Riker take the lead seeing as he’d been in one before back in Kentucky as a messenger for the boss. We wait for the guards to change. A jolt of adrenaline shoots down my spine as I see the pair of Rangers coming to relieve the others of their post. They light a cigarette, murmur in brief conversation, and while they’re busy passing papers we slip on by in the shadows.
The moment we’re within the gates we hasten down the halls twisting left and right knowing that even pausing for a heartbeat could jinx our good luck. We say nothing, not stupid enough to whisper words that don’t need to be said and risk being heard. Instead we tiptoe on faith, follow on trust, and focus on the path of low-lit halls.
Endless doors taunt me with names, numbers, and fancy words I don’t understand, but Riker creeps onwards confidently so I do the same. As we slip through a set of doors into another hallway I notice a distinct change. The air is colder, the floors are cleaner, and there’s an unsettling humming sound that I can’t shake out of my ears.
Riker holds up a fist and I halt. Leaning forwards carefully he peers through the small glass window in a room marked COMPUNIT411. Satisfied with whatever he was searching for he waves me forwards and swipes a card into the scanner by the door. My eyebrows rise in surprise at its appearance but I say nothing, biting back my curiosity for later.
Inside is strangely hot despite the cool air blowing from a ventilation unit in the ceiling. I look around and see thousands of blinking lights, intricate wires, and slumbering screens. Riker strides over to a larger unit in the center of the room. Pressing a button I can’t make out it glows to life casting an eerie blue sheen over his face.
I want to say something. I need to say something. We’ve been quiet for so long and all of these strange sights fill me with questions but I swallow the urge down like vomit and force myself to stay cool. I focus on his fingers tapping the keys on a board so quick they almost blur. A series of commands flicker onto the screen and Riker volleys back with his own set of codes and demands. Back and forth they go until—
“Well what do we have here?”
Riker’s hands freeze above the keyboard and I whip around, my gun ready. My mouth is set and my grip doesn’t waver as I keep the Ranger in my sights, staring down the barrel of his own weapon.
Slowly Riker straightens up, raising his hands as he does so.
“I asked you two a question,” the man barks impatiently. Our secrets stay trapped inside our guts and the soldier steps forwards a bit out of the shadows, his gun as stead
y as mine. “I suggest you put your gun down before somebody gets hurt, girl.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t see a girl here. Do you?” I ask Riker playfully. I know I shouldn’t have sassed the man but it slipped out before I could smack its hide and drag it back inside.
Riker’s jaw muscle flexes at my words but says nothing until something sparks within him. Squinting into the darkness he asks, “Frank?”
For a moment the room makes no noise except the constant hum of machines. “I’m gonna reach for my flashlight. Don’t shoot me.” I nod but watch him closely, my finger still very tempted to pull the trigger. The Ranger clicks on his torch and I’m blinking back tears and blindness in its bright beam. He lets out a low whistle of disbelief. “Shadow? Is that really you?”
“It’s really me, Frank,” he responds carefully.
Frank lets out a hushed whoop of excitement. Closing the distance between us he drops his gun and pulls Riker into a rough hug, the kind with lots of back beating and minimal softness. “Damn, Shadow, I never thought I’d see your sorry face again. I thought you was gone for good after you split.”
Riker loosens the tension in his shoulders and smiles back mischievously. “You know I was always a wild spirit. Nobody could keep me caged for long.”
Frank motions towards Riker’s ring. “Not too wild, I see. A wedding ring, Shadow? Really? In this day and age when you can—”
“Frank,” Riker warns behind an empty smile.
“Alright man, alright. So I heard a rumor you was caught and thrown in the iron pen,” Frank asks juicily. “That true as the sky is blue?”
Riker merely shrugs.
“You were! Ha! Well now what are you doing here?” he muses, his eyes flickering over to the screen hidden behind Riker’s careful stance. “And with that wild creature by your side?”
I keep my mouth shut and my face blank but I wanted to unleash a thousand and one questions. My gun is lowered but you best believe it’s still cocked and ready to fire. I’ll ask Riker all my questions later, right now I want to make sure he lives to answer them.