by Ann Bakshis
“Your friend here is very persuasive,” Braxton says to me, as I join them.
“What Artemis doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Jagger says authoritatively.
The three of us, along with two other guards, pile into a small transport car. I become cold quickly as the weather is freezing and the material of the clothing is not retaining heat. We move about the platform then onto the city proper. I watch as tall metal skyscrapers go whizzing by. We wander through the city and exit onto the southern platform where a lone shuttle rail juts out of the station.
The transport car slows down as we approach the interior of the structure, then stops alongside the shuttle that currently sits idling. As I exit the vehicle I see more than two dozen guards and Regulators step onboard. We join them in the lounge section towards the front, leaving the station moments after our arrival.
It’ll take us a full day to reach Nuceira. Our shuttle changes tracks once we reach the station just outside the Boroughs. The windows of the shuttle change from the hard landscape of the Boroughs to a lush evergreen forest as we begin our journey south. We eat a small meal after four hours into our trip.
“How’d you get Braxton to agree to this?” I ask Jagger, as we sit next to each other munching on our sandwiches.
“I’ll tell you later when there aren’t so many people around,” he replies.
After eating, I get up to go wander down the shuttle, Jagger right behind me. The first two compartments we enter are sleeping quarters, ten rooms total between the two cars. I try the door at the end of the second car, but it won’t open. I know this should lead down to the cargo hold, so I’m not quite sure why it’s locked. I place my ear against the door, but don’t hear anything from the other side.
Jagger and I go back to the lounge where we stare out the windows at the imaginary landscape as it passes us by. As night approaches, I go to one of the bedrooms to sleep; Jagger takes the room next to mine. I get very little sleep, but stay under the soft blankets anyway.
The shuttle begins to slow as the evening grows darker. The windows turn off and I can see real stars in the sky. The environment outside is dense forest, and no man-made structures are currently visible. We slow down even more, passing under a metal awning with the letters N.S. 7 painted faintly along the outer rim. The only light being cast onto the platform that glides next to us is emanating from the shuttle’s interior fixtures. We finally come to a stop; a hissing noise breaks the silence.
I exit my room and walk back to the lounge, but no one is there. Heading back down the corridor, I run into Jagger exiting his compartment. We walk towards the back of the shuttle and notice the door we couldn’t get open earlier yawning wide. Voices radiate off the metal interior, growing louder the closer we get. I pass through the opening and into a control room. Large plasma screens hang down from the ceiling along the sides and far back wall. Control panels line the wall to my left.
“Do you have the satellite in position yet?” Braxton asks, as he notices me standing in the doorway.
I walk over to a long glass table in the center of the room where many of the guards and Regulators are standing.
“It’s almost in position,” the man operating the controls answers.
Jagger comes up behind me as I nudge my way to the front, wanting to know what they are all looking at. The table is an enormous display screen, showing a view of what appears to be the forest outside, but from miles above.
“Go two degrees north,” Braxton says, as the motion of the satellite begins to slow. A thin outline begins to appear at the top of the screen, sliding south until it encompasses the entire monitor. “Stop!” Braxton shouts when he has the image in place. From the satellite’s current vantage point, the outline of a large cross is visible among the thin trees.
I notice that the trees there are quite different than the ones outside.
“Magnify twenty percent.” This makes the outline thicker and more defined.
Braxton pushes a button, and the image rises from the table into the air. He presses more buttons and the foliage surrounding the city disappears. A clear picture of Nuceira’s boundaries becomes visible.
The city is surrounded by a twenty-foot-high wall made of limestone, topped with razor wire. A scan is conducted from the satellite, which bounces back an overlay of electrical markers hidden inside the wall every two feet. The picture rotates ninety degrees, laying the city on its side. I hear Braxton talking about their strategy to penetrate the city, but I continue to stare at the image.
There appears to be five miles of forest between the exterior walls, which are also in the cross configuration, and the city itself. In the center is a circular building with a domed roof. On the left arm of the cross there look to be farmland and gardens, on the right arm, wooden structures with smoke stacks, most likely housing. To the south there’s a thin building with a metal roof. A large two-story structure stands farther down, almost at the bottom of the layout.
“Everyone understand what needs to be done?” I hear Braxton say, as I focus back on what is happening around me.
We leave the control room and walk back up the corridor to the shuttle’s entrance in the lounge.
Braxton and his second in command open the door, warm sticky air filtering in from outside. One of the Regulators adjusts the thermostat inside the shuttle, changing the air inside from hot to cool. As the atmosphere changes, condensation begins to build on the outside of the windows. I follow as they step out onto the metal platform that extends the length of the shuttle. There are railings along the farthest edges with a single staircase as the only exit. There’s no structure encasing the station, only the trees and sky for cover. The light from the shuttle doesn’t travel any further than the top two steps of the staircase.
Braxton takes my arm and escorts me back inside. He tells me to sit down on one of the couches in the lounge as he removes the Levin gun from my waist.
“You won’t need this because you are staying here. Jagger will stay with you while the rest of us make our way to Nuceira.”
“Why am I being kept behind?”
“Because, Meg, you’ll be recognized,” Jagger says as he takes a seat next to me, pain etched on his face. “Braxton spoke to me about the plan while you were sleeping.”
I begin to protest, but Jagger takes my hand in his, squeezing it gently.
“If Quin is there, he’ll give you away.”
“I don’t care. I didn’t come all this way just to be kept out of it.”
“Enough,” Braxton says to me. “I was foolish enough to let you on board in the first place, but this is as far as you’re going.”
Moments later, Jagger and I are locked in, stranded in the darkness.
We watch as the troops descend the stairs and disappear into oblivion.
The sun has risen, set, and risen again.
I’m going stir crazy being locked inside this tin can, and Jagger isn’t faring much better. We’ve spent our time rummaging through every bit of the shuttle, looking for something that will open the doors and let us out. I have tested several of the windows with a few of the end tables, but they’re shatterproof. The power is still on, but this shuttle is different than the other one. This must be the High Ruler’s private carriage, so the normal handles or keypads to allow access to the driver’s compartment are missing. We’ve gone back into the control room several times, but can’t get the satellite to operate so we don’t even know if they were able to successfully get into Nuceira or not.
Sitting down on a lounge, I hang my head back in frustration. Jagger sits down opposite me.
“How did you convince Braxton?”
“Huh?” Jagger responds, not hearing me initially.
“What did you say to convince Braxton to let me come along?”
His face turns sorrowful. “About a week ago, I overheard one of the High Ruler’s guards sending a communication to someone in Tyre. He was providing the man with tactical information on how to breac
h the security around Acheron. I told Braxton this, but of course he didn’t believe me. Then a few days ago, Braxton located a transmission that was sent from the High Ruler’s office to the High Ruler of Tyre. He thought it suspicious and confronted the High Ruler about it. Artemis laughed at him. Apparently he said ‘can’t a son talk to his father’.”
“Wait, what? Vladim is Artemis’ father?” I ask interrupting him.
“It appears that way. It also sounds like they’re planning an invasion. Braxton pulled me aside to admit he was wrong. I talked about the need to protect you from the High Rulers if there was to be an attack and the only sure way to do it was to bring you along to Nuceira.”
“He’s protecting me? But why?”
“He’s fed up with Artemis, and Acheron. He wants change, and we all know you’re the one who can bring that change.” He stands and heads down the corridor, away from me.
I feel a great weight being placed upon my shoulders that I don’t think I can carry.
A storm kicks up outside, heavy rain, lightning. Winds pummel the exterior of the shuttle, but we don’t hear anything inside, nor does the vehicle sway in any way. Lightning strikes close by, causing the power in the shuttle to flicker then go out. I look out the window to watch the storm as it grows fiercer.
I catch movement off to my right, just along the tree line about fifty yards from the platform, but can’t see if it’s anything important as the wind is thrashing the trees about. Another bright flash erupts, allowing the image to remain in focus longer.
Quin.
“Jagger,” I shout.
“What?” He inquires, as I hear him race towards me.
“Quin’s outside,” I say, pointing to where I last saw him.
“Braxton underestimated him.” Jagger walks over to a cabinet behind the sofa on the right and extracts two Levin guns.
“Why didn’t you tell me about these earlier?” I demand, as he hands me one.
“These won’t work against the windows or the door…I already tried it.”
Lightning flashes again, briefly showing Quin’s outline still lurking in the shadows.
I lower myself so that only the top of my head and eyes are exposed. The storm grows again, rain falling heavier still. As the sky lights up, I watch Quin slowly make his way towards the platform. Jagger pokes my shoulder then points to an area on our left.
Four Morrigan in full armor gear, including masks, are approaching from the opposite side. They’re moving faster than Quin so I estimate they’ll be at the shuttle in a matter of minutes.
“Go hide,” I tell Jagger, pushing him away from me.
“No, I need to protect you.”
“I know, but right now I need to protect you.”
He stares into my eyes, sorrow and pain filling his. I imagine the truth is uncomfortable for a warrior such as Jagger, but I don’t have time to sugar-coat this.
“You’ll be no match against Quin and the Morrigan will kill you the minute they see you. You need to trust me on this, Jagger, you need to go hide.”
I take his hand and give him my Levin gun then kiss him gently on the cheek, brushing the blonde tresses away from his blue eyes. I smile at him, trying to mask the fear that has violently begun to rise in me and watch as he disappears into the shadows.
I go over to the couch to the left of the door, and back in to the shadows to give myself a little cover. Faces appear in the windows, looking inside. It’s at this moment I pray for Trea to appear, but I still can’t just call her from the recesses of my mind. Fear has driven her into disappearing; only anger will make her materialize.
I take a deep breath as the door slides open, metal being forced to part. Quin stands in the doorway, drenched. He takes a step in, raising a Levin gun in front of him.
“I know you’re here, Trea. This will all be easier if you come out of the shuttle willingly,” he says, puddles forming around his feet.
“Why, Quin?” I ask, still sitting in my spot, “Why would you do this to your own kind?”
“We’re not the same, Trea. You and the others were created for destruction. I was designed for protection. I was redeemed from the hell that was the Dormitories, and the bastard scientists who felt like playing God. I was saved by the Morrigan and Parson Mathan. And so shall you be.”
He fires the gun in my direction, but misses. I jump to my feet, looking for any venue of escape, but I’m trapped. He fires again, missing my head by mere inches.
“All right,” I shout, raising my hands above my head and stepping out into view. “You win.”
He smiles as he places his gun into his holster. He grabs my arms, forcing them down along my sides before escorting me out of the shuttle and into the rain. Binders are secured to my wrists behind my back. I can easily break them, but choose not to. I feel defeated and weak. He escorts me down the stairs, rain pelting every inch of me while two of the Morrigan have gone inside. I pray that Jagger has found a safe hiding place.
A black armored vehicle is waiting for us about a mile from the platform. Quin shoves me inside, not bothering to protect my head as I smack it on the hard metal. I take a seat between him and the Morrigan he called Rabaan back at the power plant. The others join us several minutes later. We only move a few feet when the sky behind us lights up. I turn around to look out the window behind me to see the shuttle disintegrate into ash.
My heart screams as Jagger is killed.
Everyone I try to protect dies. Everyone.
Tears start to roll down my cheeks. I’ve let everyone down.
I can’t take anymore. I wish they would just kill me.
I no longer care what happens.
I’m dead inside.
Chapter 20
The trip is quiet.
Quin continues to grip my arm, perhaps fearful I will slip my restraints. Hours pass by slowly. The forest begins to thin out slightly as the trees begin to change from evergreens to large ficus covered in Spanish moss.
A headache begins to build behind my eyes and I’m growing restless from the long ride. I start to fidget with the binders since they are now cutting into my skin. Quin tightens his grip, almost cutting off the circulation in my arm but I manage to slide the binders off.
More hours pass as we drive, and now the sun is bright over our heads. Cool air filters through the vents along the roof, but it doesn’t help with the stagnant feel inside the car. My headache grows, moving from behind my eyes to my temples. I ask for some water, so Quin places a cup to my lips in order for me to drink. The water helps my headache, but only a bit.
We approach a tall stone archway with a closed iron gate. The driver pushes a button on the console, causing the huge gates to swing open, shaking from their size and weight. We pass through, the gate closing behind us. We go by four cinderblock buildings, all with small windows and metal doors. Men sit perched atop rooftops, two sets on either side. Behind the buildings is thick forest, tall canopies that cast great shadows onto the earth below.
The vehicle begins to slow as we come upon people walking about the area. Men and women run around the barren ground, going from one building to another. We go about a mile before stopping in front of the tall round structure with the domed roof; ornate columns and stained glass windows complete the picture.
Quin yanks me out of my seat. I step out into the humid air and squint in the bright sunlight, but no one pays much attention to us. Rabaan takes my other arm as he notices I’m no longer wearing the binders, and I am escorted up a small flight of marble stairs, under an elaborately decorated archway, and inside.
Long wooden pews cover much of the floor, candles burn in the corners, and paintings and sculptures of ancient religions hang on every wall. The fragrance lingering in the air is one I haven’t smelt before and it’s increasing the pain in my head. The three of us, along with two heavily armed Morrigan, walk up the red-carpeted aisle towards a man preaching to rows of pews filled with young children.
He is yelling about
the evils of the world, and how humanity can only truly continue if they believe in him. He’s holding a worn leather-bound book in his arthritic hand, shaking it above his head as he stands tall and straight, thinning hair as white as snow. His slender stature makes him look frail, but from the vibrato in his voice, he is far from it.
“Here children,” the man says, as we march down the center. “Look at this young woman being brought before you. She was created by the devil’s hands.” He points towards me, book shaking in his grasp. “She must be punished for the sins of the men and women who created her, as she’s not of human flesh. We must seek these demons out and cast them back to hell.”
The children turn and stare at me as I stand disheveled before them. The man approaches me, brushing my cheek with his cold bony fingers.
“Trea, I presume.” He pushes my head down to check the marks on the back of my neck. He places his hand under my chin, bringing my face up to meet his. “How long I’ve been waiting to see you.”
He gestures to Rabaan and Quin and I’m dragged out the back door behind the altar. We pass a small ring with a tall pole in the center, charred wood and cloth scattered beneath it. Approximately a hundred yards away is another cinder building with a tin roof, bars on the windows, and two guards outside. One unlocks the bolt as he sees us approach. Rabaan and Quin walk me through the door, down a small hallway, and into a cell. I’m secured to the wall by heavy metal chains, one around each ankle and wrist, as well as my neck. Rabaan steps away as Quin finishes fastening me in place.
“It will be okay,” Quin says to me. “You’ll see.” He kisses me and leaves.
As soon as the cell is closed and locked I try and break free of the chains. The moment I move my arm, the restraint around my neck tightens. The same goes if I move either of my legs.
Great, I think to myself, I’ll wind up choking myself to death.
Nothing is coming to mind at the moment as I try to think of a way out of this. I begin to wonder if Lehen is being held in the same building, so I decide against better judgment and call to him.