by Lee Kelly
I shake my head and tell her the only truth I have. “I don’t know.”
I can’t begin to make sense of this, or get a handle on my thoughts. I’m breathless at the possibility of a world beyond this terrible city, regardless of what state it’s in. I have so many questions for these men about the war, about England. God, the ocean.
But I’m also furious. Is this all Rolladin’s twisted game? Does no one know the truth about the war but Rolladin and her Council members? They can’t.
“Sky,” Phee whispers, interrupting my thoughts. “What do we do with this?”
I look at my sister. For the first time in a long time, she looks helpless. Terrified, even. And I realize, for as much as what we’ve heard excites me to the point where I might burst, Phee definitely doesn’t feel the same way.
“We need to leave,” I say softly, grabbing her hand. “You know we can’t stay here now, Phee.”
She wipes the betraying tears from her eyes. “I just don’t understand. Where would we go?”
And for the first time in my life, I let myself entertain the question. “We could go south.” I start to let the hopeful smile that’s been begging to cross my lips see the light of day. “For the winter, like birds. Or we could go west—or to England, with these men, and start a new life overseas. They said they came by boat. We could cross the Atlantic, like Columbus in reverse.”
But Phee doesn’t catch my excitement. “We can’t just walk out of here. We just begged Rolladin for a chance to be whorelords-in-training. We leave, and she’ll know we were playing her. She’ll hunt us down through the city. We won’t make it to the water.”
Phee’s right, of course. The madwoman at the helm of the Park would never let us go. This dangerous, maniacal hoarder of lives, who we’re double—make that triple—crossing. And after the Englishmen showed Rolladin the tears in her web of lies, she’ll be even more paranoid, more controlling. Will lockdown continue? Will there be random searches in the fields? More innocents thrown in solitary, to prove a point?
“We leave tonight,” I whisper.
“What? You mean get Mom and pack up our stuff at the Carlyle? And just run? What if—what if those men weren’t telling the truth? I mean, honestly, how do we really know for sure?”
“We question them ourselves,” I say, nurturing my plan as it slowly takes form in my mind, like wind that laps a spark into a fire. “We find out everything we can. They told Rolladin they got into the city undetected, so they should be able to tell us how to get out of it.”
“Sky, they’re in prison—you did hear that, right? They’re being sent to the primate tower. We’re never gonna see them again.”
“Rolladin told the warlords to transfer the men tomorrow,” I say slowly. “So we go tonight to the cells, and talk to them. Maybe we can even figure out the way to their boat.”
I picture Phee, Mom, and me sailing into the horizon, breaking past the fence of skyscrapers and out into the great unknown. For a second I let myself see the young woodsman beside us—the image further warms me—but I don’t tell Phee about that part.
“But that’s crazy. What if there’re whorelords at the prison?” Phee asks. “What then?”
“Then we’ll forget it and find a way out on our own. Sneak back into the Carlyle, get Mom, get the journal. Get out before sunrise.” I stare at the ceiling, like I can break it open and conjure the sky, show Phee that the stars are still governing. Right now, I feel like anything’s possible. “There’s still time. This is our only chance.”
But even as I’m saying it, deep down, I know. This plan is ludicrous. Reckless. Brash. All I need is for someone to tell me otherwise. All I need is a voice of reason. One that cuts through all the secrets and the lies and the double-crossing and tells me I’m pushing too far, risking too much. Usually, I am this voice of reason.
But after tonight, I’m not sure I know myself, or this world I’ve taken as fact. Everything seems up for debate.
After a moment of thinking it over, Phee shakily says, “Okay.”
I paste on a grin to hide the storm of terror and anxiety that rumbles within. “Then let’s get moving.”
I guess who needs a voice of reason when you have a partner in crime?
I scramble to my hands and knees, heart clamoring, palms slick, and slip with Phee along the dark marble hallway of the Belvedere. We slowly feel our way back to the stairs, slither undetected into the entrance hallway—and then burst out into the night, the cold air of October smacking us as we run for the cover of the trees.
The stars are out, and the moon is full, bulbous and glossy like an onion. It paints the forest in deep greens and blues, drapes branches in cloaks of steely gray. A couple of times I stop and swear I hear something in the trees—warlords? Raiders? Feeders?
But I shake off my fear and grip Phee’s hand, and we rumble forward.
Phee and I don’t say another word until we reach the old polar bear pit on the north side of the zoo. Down a cobblestone path about a hundred feet are the reptile house and aviary used as the prisons. Past that, the primate tower—solitary confinement.
The pit’s guarded by a faded sign that reads POLAR BEAR BEWARE! and really isn’t a pit at all, but a sunken room bordered by walls on three sides and a window which looks out to an empty pool. I’ve never actually been in here, but I know the warlords sometimes use it for questioning.
Once we’ve settled between two of the pit benches, Phee finally breaks the silence. “Did you see? Some of the Park’s horses are tied up at the reptile house.”
“The lesser lords must have ridden them over here—they must still be in the prisons,” I answer her. “The lords have to be leaving soon—Rolladin said they aren’t moving the men to the primate tower until tomorrow.”
Phee shifts onto her left side and dislodges the small handgun from the pocket of her sweatpants. “I guess I should load the gun, right? If we’re breaking into prison.”
She looks at me for encouragement. I’ve never even held a gun before, let alone know how to use one. Plus, I’m still pretty angry that Mom gave it to her and not me. “We’re not going to need that.”
“Well, in case. I think I’ll set it up.” She pulls the bullets out of her pocket but doesn’t do anything. Just looks at the pistol for a long time. “What if it goes off in my pants?”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
She annoyingly starts to slot the silver cylinders into the empty chamber and rolls it closed. “Mom said this safety thing should keep it from going off,” Phee says. “At least we’ll have it if we need it.”
“Trust me.” I could strangle her. Even though this is clearly my plan, she’s somehow managed to grab the reins. “We’re not going to need it. The guys are behind bars.”
Phee shrugs. “Yeah, but what if we need to get information out of them?”
“What, you’ll shoot one of them to get them talking? Phee, that gun has already been more trouble than it’s worth. Keep it in your pants, okay?”
Phee shakes her head. “You never think I know what I’m doing.”
But before I can argue with her anymore, we hear voices waft over the abandoned zoo, then soft clomping of horses’ hooves on pavement.
“Quiet, all right?” I whisper. “They’re leaving.”
I can catch only snippets of the warlords’ conversations. . . .
“You think Cass and Darren can handle this?”
“They’ll have to. An order’s an order.”
Then there’s a chorus of neighs from the horses as they break into a gallop, and the crew of warlords is off, pounding against the cobblestone walkway, past our pit and back towards the castle.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”
We climb out of the pit, run across the cobblestone walkway, and duck into the shadows of the animal houses on the othe
r side.
We pass boarded-up shacks labeled SNACK BAR and RESTAURANT, creep behind the aviary, and stop once we reach the back entrance of the reptile house. The thin flap of the back door isn’t locked, but all the cages will be chained with padlocks.
I take a deep breath before opening the door. I’m anxious, so anxious I can’t seem to catch my breath. What are we going to say to these men? What if they refuse to speak with us, or start screaming, and the warlords hear them and come back for us? Or what if there are other prisoners in here, and they give us away?
Phee puts her hand on my shoulder, grips it firmly, and gives it a little squeeze.
“I’m scared too,” she whispers. “But like you said, this is our only chance to find out the truth. One step at a time, right? Just open the door.”
I nod, pat her hand with mine, and then pull open the flimsy back entry.
As soon as we crawl into the belly of the reptile house, we hear moans. Whimpers. Pleading. It only takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but what I see freezes me in my tracks.
Cass is in the middle of the floor, red crossbow in hand, firing on the men behind steel bars at the end of the hall. One by one.
13 PHEE
“What are you doing?” I yell.
Cass rests her crossbow beside her. “What the hell? How the—”
“Cass.” I take a step forward, instinctively look around. It’s just her and us. And the men in the far cage. No one else. “Stop. You don’t need to do this.”
“Oh really?” She laughs at me, spits her words across the reptile house. But she’s rubbing her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I do. That’s what being a warlord is all about. Following orders. Doing things you don’t understand. Or didn’t you know what you signed up for?”
I don’t answer her, and that forced smile falls off her face.
“I knew it. I told the rest of them, and no one listened. You played her, didn’t you?” Cass says.
I shake my head. “No, we—”
“You kissed Rolladin’s ass just to be spared an arrow up your own.”
“Who’s there?” one of the men calls from the cell. He sticks his fingers out between the bars. “Help! She’s already killed our mate. Please!”
Cass takes a hammer out of her pants pocket and whacks the bars. The guy cries out in pain, but Cass ignores him and stalks towards us like a cat on the hunt. “Maybe I can see what Rolladin can’t see. And I’ll do what she doesn’t have the heart to do. I don’t care what any of them say, I’ve had enough. It’s just you and me now. No Rolladin or Lory to save your sorry ass.”
“Wait,” I plead with her. “Cass, wait!”
But she keeps moving. As she positions the arrow, loads the bow, and gets ready to point it between my temples, Sky starts yelling. “Phee, come on!” and pulls my arm to go back the way we came.
But I let my instincts take over.
There’s no time to run, no time to hide.
Cass’s bow is fully loaded, and as she raises it towards my face, aims it right between my eyes, I dig out my gun, push off the safety, wrap both hands around the weapon, and pray.
The shot goes off before Cass can fire the bow.
14 SKY
Cass’s abdomen bursts open like a blooming rose, and her weapon clangs to the floor. She hits the ground, moaning, clutching her stomach.
And I can’t think, I can’t feel. I’ve been emptied, unhinged, rewired.
The front door swings open. Another warlord, Darren, quickly surveys the room. For a moment he’s shocked, paralyzed with surprise, but then he starts moving, running towards us, barking at Phee and me. But I can’t hear him—all I hear is the nagging ringing of Phee’s gunshot.
Darren dislodges his own gun from the folds of his cloak and points it at us, his mouth an angry hollow, a silent scream, but Phee fires first, and the bullet dives across the room. The warlord falls, faceless, to the floor.
It takes a moment, but my heart starts working again, pumping, feeling. Sound, senses, they all return. But my mind is fixated; it says one word, over and over, tormented by a mantra I can’t quiet.
Murderers.
Murderers.
Murderers.
15 PHEE
My hands are shaking so badly that I nearly drop the gun.
I just killed someone.
Me. I ended someone’s life. I stole it.
“You. You are so f-f-fucking dead,” Cass stutters from the ground. She’s bleeding, curled like a baby on the floor. “When Rolladin gets to you, she’ll rip . . . rip you in half.”
As if my arm has a mind of its own, it raises the gun again, points it right at her. Cass looks up at me, her eyes liquid with fear. But she says nothing.
Do it, the voice of my little instigator is louder than it’s been in a long time. Do it, do it.
I shove the trembling gun into my pocket.
I’m no monster.
But you are a killer. A killer.
I grab the keys from Cass’s belt and take her bow.
“Get the other whorelord’s gun,” I tell Sky. A raw survival instinct has grabbed hold of my throat. After this, it doesn’t matter how special we might be to Rolladin. After this, there won’t be any more forgiveness.
I finally take a good look at the men in the cage. There’re three of them still alive. The fourth is wrapped around an arrow and is lying on the straw-covered floor.
“Get us out of here,” the oldest pleads with me. Up close, the men look beaten, raw eyes, scraped cheeks, clothes tattered and torn.
“We leave the Park. Tonight. You’re taking us with you.” I’m still shaking, the keys jangling in my hand, betraying the voice I’m selling as steady.
“Anything you want. Just open the door,” the old guy urges.
Sky stands beside me, with the dead whorelord’s gun in hand. “Let them out,” she tells me. She’s got a look on her face I can’t read. It’s not fear. It’s—it’s emptier than that.
I take a deep breath and turn back to the men. “You try anything, anything at all, and we’ll shoot you. We need to get our mom at the Carlyle. Then you take us as far as we need to go.” I stop, think—what else do we need? “And you tell us what the hell’s going on. You hear me?”
“We’ll get you out of the Park, sure. But you need to finish her off,” another guy, the thin one in his twenties, says from the corner of the cage. “She’ll track us.”
I look at Cass, in agony on the ground. I hate her. I hate her so much, I’m tempted again to shoot her.
But there’s a line somewhere, a hazy, shaky line that dances in front of me. My little instigator’s begging me to cross it, sure, but deep down somehow I know. If I do, I’ll never be the same. “We’ve got the weapons, we make the call.”
The thin guy shakes his head. “Mistake.”
I ignore him, hand the keys to Sky, and back away from the cage. I put my two-bullet gun in my pocket and cock Cass’s bow like I’m ready to use it. I can tell Sky thinks these guys are our heroes, but I’m not sold. After the night we’ve had, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to trust anyone again, besides Sky and Mom.
Sky fumbles with a key in the lock, tries another, then another.
The door to the steel-bar cage finally staggers open, and the three men pour out into the reptile house. The thin one—the same guy who told me to finish Cass—watches me carefully, and I get the sense he’s sizing me up, debating whether he can take me. I grip the bow, wishing I had a full deck of arrows, limitless guns.
“Let’s go,” the old guy says.
I nod at my sister. “You follow Sky, and I’ll trail you. No funny business.” I wave the bow for good measure. “We’ll run up the east side of the Park, to the Carlyle. We’ll regroup up there.”
The thin one shakes his head again. “We shoul
d leave the Park as soon as possible.”
“Are you seriously trying to take the reins here?” We don’t have time for this tough guy’s bullshit. “You were going to die. We freed you. We’re holding guns. You do what we say.”
The thin guy takes a few threatening steps forward, and I get a good look at him. Dark hair, dark eyes, skin that’s been rubbed raw by wind and weather. Probably a few years older than Sky, maybe more.
“Sam, these girls just saved our lives,” the old guy says softly. Then he asks me, “What’s your name?”
“Phee. This is my sister, Sky.”
“I’m Lerner.” The old guy points to the thin, snarky one. “My mate, Sam.” He nods towards the youngest. “And his brother, Ryder. Now, Phee and Sky—let’s get the hell out of here.”
16 SKY
We lock Cass in the men’s prison cage, leave the reptile house a bath of blood, and cut across the zoo grounds to the east side of the Park. Me, then the three men, then Phee in tow. We hug Fifth Avenue as we run, follow the narrow cement path along the Park border sunken from street level, attempt to move as fast as possible.
I try to stay focused on our flight, but images from the reptile house keep tormenting me: Cass bathed in blood, Darren’s face opening like curtains. I can’t shake the images. They replay over and over, in real time and then slow, as if to say, In case you missed anything, here it is again. Watch carefully.
We killed someone. Someone a few years older than me.
We’re all on high alert. Phee keeps ordering the Brits to slow, to give me some breathing room.
But I’m not afraid of these men. I knew, the moment I saw the young Englishman in the woods—Ryder—that things were about to change. That he was here for a reason. Now we have minutes to capitalize on that reason, to get out of the Park before Rolladin finds out what’s happened at the prisons and tracks us down. And there won’t be any third chances.