by Joss Ware
Goldwyn cried out in rage, and the next thing she knew, she was spinning toward the ground.
Someone caught her before she landed on her battered face, yanking her upright with an uncomfortable jerk of her bound wrists. Remy looked up and saw Ian through her angry tears. He wasn’t looking at her, but at Goldwyn. “No,” he said, his voice deathly cold.
“But you—”
“That’s right. I. Not you.” Ian smiled down at her with a hard, cruel mouth, then propelled her sharply toward the Humvee. He wasn’t rough enough to make her fall again, but she bumped against the wall.
“Ian,” Lacey said, her voice questioning, and flavored with the slightest whine.
His mouth tightened, then softened as he turned to her, sliding one finger up her arm suggestively. Then, just as smoothly, he asked, “Where’s the dog?”
She shook her head mutely. She wasn’t sure she could even whistle for Dantès, with her mouth cut as it was. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Ian anything.
Betrayed by two men in less than an hour. What the hell.
“Remy,” Ian said, taking her by the arms and yanking her toward him. “Where the hell is your dog?” He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to him.”
Something about his tone cut through her pain and anger and she met his eyes. A little ping of hope flitted through her when she saw the intensity in his gaze, then it faded. She knew better. “I don’t know,” she managed to say through a swollen, bloody lip. “He took off.”
Ian gave a short nod, then shoved her away. Not enough to make her fall again, but enough that she stumbled. Lacey was watching them with a suspicious, furious expression, and when her eyes settled on Remy, they were filled with hatred. Then, to Remy’s horror, Ian whistled and shouted, “Dantès! Come.”
She started to shriek “No!” when Lacey jammed the gun into her throat as Dantès bounded out into the clearing, leaping through the school window as if he’d been waiting for the chance.
Ian looked at Lacey. “Keep that on her. You—don’t say a word,” he ordered Remy as he walked over to stop Dantès from rushing up to his mistress.
Remy held her breath, feeling the pressure of the gun barrel on her skin. If it was pushing into her, it wasn’t aiming at Dantès. She had that at least. She tried to relax, because if her dog knew she was in distress, he’d attack even without her command. And then the gun would go off. Ian knelt and greeted her pet, who kept looking around him at her. Remy closed her eyes briefly, praying, trying to dissolve any tension Dantès might sense.
“Remy. Tell him it’s okay,” Ian called from where he crouched by the dog.
“It’s okay, Dantès,” Remy called in as steady a voice as she could muster. Let him be okay. Let him go. Please. The wave of despair and fear that rushed through her was so strong, she felt a great band of pressure constricting her chest. Darkness flickered at the edge of her vision despite the rising sun, and for a moment her knees felt as if they were going to give out.
Then Ian made a sharp gesture, and after one hesitant glance at Remy, Dantès dashed off into the woods.
“Let’s get her out of here,” Ian said as he returned. “Now, before the mutt comes back.” When Lacey opened her mouth to protest, he snapped, “The dog’s a loose wire. You want to take the chance he might tear out your throat like he did to Seattle?”
“Seattle’s dead?” Lacey sounded gleeful. “Rocks.”
As she alternated between relief that Dantès was being spared and despair that she was being taken away so she couldn’t be tracked, Remy was shoved into the back of the Humvee with rough hands. She landed on her face again, but at least the seat was softer than the ground. To her dismay, Goldwyn climbed in the back with her and Ian went behind the wheel, with Lacey joining him in front.
The truck took off with a lurch, and Remy bounced along, half on the floor, half on the seat, as they barreled over the rough terrain. Exhaustion, pain, and fear eventually had its way, and she at last succumbed to the darkness edging her vision.
When Remy became aware again, it was to a bright, jolting world filled with throbbing pain and a constant rumble beneath her ear. Her mouth was dry and when she tried to swallow, she realized her swollen, bloody lip had stuck to the leather seat. Her back hurt, her arms strained behind her ached, and her head pounded.
She blinked gritty eyes, and as the sound of voices penetrated her discomfort, she tried to listen to the conversation. It went in and out, but she caught some of it over the sound of Goldwyn’s snoring and the vehicle’s motor.
“. . . stop for a while.” That was Ian, who was driving.
“But it’s just past dawn,” Lacey argued. “. . . get to Mecca . . .”
“. . . find out where she hid the crystal . . .” Ian again. So he thought she’d hidden the crystal. But how did he know?
“She’ll tell me,” Lacey said, the anticipation in her voice. “I have . . . getting information.”
Ian laughed. “I’d love to see you in action.”
Remy closed her eyes as a dart of renewed fear shot through her. What she wouldn’t give for a drink of water. A knife. A gun.
Even Wyatt.
She squeezed her eyes tighter as tears stung them. She’d been alone before. Alone and hopeless. She’d figure out a way to escape, or die trying.
But the crystal was out of her hands now, so she didn’t have to protect it. She didn’t have to stay alive.
That realization was, in a bleak way, a relief.
Now if there was a chance she could convince them that she had nothing they wanted . . .
No. She could be terrified later. Now, she had to think. And in regrouping and assessing her situation, she realized the softness beneath one of her knees was the duffel bag she’d noticed earlier, when she searched the inside of the Humvee. Maybe there was something useful inside.
It took some uncomfortable contortions, but Remy was able to squirm down to the floor and find the zipper on the duffel, her face buried in the space between the back of Lacey’s seat and the rear. When she found the metal tab, it took forever to get at the right angle to catch it in her teeth—and the bouncing, jouncing, jolting of the ride didn’t make it any easier. But she bit firmly onto it and then tried to work the zipper open. She caught her lower lip in the metal as the truck jounced and caused the zip to surge open, but in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor discomfort.
But she’d barely begun to open the duffel when the truck stopped abruptly. She jolted forward, slamming against the back of Lacey’s seat. She stifled a moan of pain and tensed as the doors opened and Ian and Lacey got out of the truck.
When the door next to her opened, she prepared herself for an onslaught of renewed violence, but it was Ian, not Lacey, who pulled her out.
“Fuck. You’re a mess aren’t you?” Ian looked at her with those cold blue eyes. He steadied her on her feet, holding onto her arm as if afraid she would bolt. “I don’t want her to get infected or sick. Liam won’t be pleased if she dies before we get the information he wants. We’ve come too far to fuck things up.”
“Who’s Liam?” Remy managed to ask, although the question came out more like a growl.
Lacey started to retort angrily, but Ian stopped her with a raised hand. “Liam Hegelson,” he told Remy. “He’ll be delighted to welcome you to Mecca. He’s been looking for Remington Truth—and the crystal—for a long time.”
“I don’t have the crystal.”
“I know,” he replied. “But you’re going to tell me where it is.” The soft menace in his voice was an unsettling promise, and Remy’s heart thudded heavy and hard in her chest.
The four of them went inside a small brick building that was relatively clean and unlittered. Obviously, it was a regular stop-over place with which the bounty hunters were familiar. The inside was dim and sparsely furnished with a sofa, chairs, and a table.
To
Remy’s surprise, Ian arranged for warm water—heated over a small solar-powered device—to wash the blood and dirt from her injured face. He also ordered Goldwyn to snip away the plastic cords around her wrists, and Remy fairly cried with relief when she was able to move her arms again.
“There are three of us and one of her,” Ian snapped when Lacey protested. “You don’t think you can handle that?”
“Whatever. But let me find out where the crystal is.” Her colorless eyes danced with anticipation.
“Be my guest,” Ian said, gesturing to a chair. “I don’t like to get messy. But what’s the hurry? I’ve got other things on my mind.” The look he gave Lacey was so slow and heavy, even Remy felt it.
The bounty hunter relaxed, nearly oozing against him. Then she looked at Goldwyn. “You stay here. Watch her. We’ll be back. Later.” She gave Remy a cold, cruel smile as she slipped her wiry, muscular arm through Ian’s. “That’ll give you time to rest. You’re gonna need it.”
“Take the stones to Envy?” Cat said, looking at her father. She put down her cup of tea. “Why?”
Everyone knew about Envy—the largest settlement of people since the Change. It had sprung up in the months after the massive catastrophe that destroyed twenty-first century America—and, presumably, the rest of the world. Practically a city, although from what Cat knew, it was nowhere near the size or extent of pre-Change cities like New York or Los Angeles, or even Denver. It sounded like a foreign land to her.
The place had been called Envy for so long many people had forgotten it actually began on the site of Las Vegas, originally being named New Vegas, or N.V.
Regardless, Cat had no desire to go to a big, busy, crowded place like that. Even though she heard there were actual restaurants there, where you were served food at a table like in the old days, and it offered a variety of tradesmen making clothing and even a few places to barter for or buy rebuilt appliances, she didn’t want to go. She liked it in Glenway. She was comfortable in the small peninsular town, protected from the zombies by a deep trench on two sides and the ocean on two more. She felt safe here. Safe, and able to heal.
But Dad seemed excited about the trip. It was almost as if he were looking for an excuse to go—after all, why would they need to make a three-day journey to deliver some stones? Even if they had glowed in the dark?
“You don’t have to go with me, Catie,” he said, stirring honey into his tea. “In fact, it might be better if you didn’t. Yvonne can always use your help with Tanya, and don’t think I haven’t noticed Benjamin Mandova spending a lot of time talking with you.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling deeply. “Maybe he’d get up the nerve to do something else if your papa wasn’t around glowering at him.”
“If you think I’m letting you go by yourself, you’re nuts,” Cat said flatly. “But I don’t understand why you think it’s so important.”
He shrugged. “Call it instinct. I’ve been around long enough that I’ve learned to listen to it. Stones don’t just glow. And the fact that the zombies have become more erratic lately, and they have glowing orange eyes that look a lot like those stones . . . I think George needs to know.”
Cat got up, mug in hand, and went over to the sink. She pumped water into the basin with rough movements and was just turning back to Dad when the front door opened.
“Grandpa!” A whirlwind of energy burst into the room, hurling herself into his arms. She had springy dark hair and happy brown eyes.
Yvonne—Tanya’s mother and Cat’s sister—followed her daughter. She looked fondly at her father and daughter, who were smooching, hugging, and tickling each other. “Good morning. Sorry for the interruption, but since you’ve moved here, Tanya seems to think your house is just an extension of ours. Usually I can keep her contained until after nine, but this morning she got away from me.”
“We’re always glad to see you!” Cat said with real warmth. Moving here was the best decision she and Dad had made. Which was why she felt such an inkling of mistrust about this proposed trip to Envy. She was afraid it would change everything again.
“What’s going on?” Yvonne looked from Cat to their father, obviously sensing the underlying disagreement.
“Last night when the zombies were out, we noticed a glow coming from George’s laboratory,” Dad said. “It was orange, and when we investigated—we were careful! Sheesh,” he interjected when Yvonne drew in a sharp breath of alarm. “Anyway, we found the glow coming from some stones. Like crystals.”
“Dad thinks we should take them all the way to Envy for George to look at,” Cat said, not trying to hide her dislike of the idea.
Yvonne pursed her lips. “Tanny, honey, can you run home and make sure I turned off the . . . uh . . . water. In the sink? And while you’re there, why don’t you get your new doll to show Grandpa?”
Cat didn’t say anything until Tanya was gone, but she watched her sister with calculating eyes. Once the door closed behind the little girl, she said, “What’s going on?”
Yvonne shrugged. “Tanya likes to talk. I didn’t want her to be spreading this around, but . . . Dad. I think you’re right. You should take them to Envy.” She hesitated, smoothing her hand over the battered kitchen table as if to sweep away a bit of crumbs. “You know Ana and I were very good friends. Although we were close, she was a little secretive about some things. About her background. So I don’t really know what the situation was, but . . . one time, by accident, I saw her bare torso. Like, the side of her belly and rib cage. And she had crystals embedded in it.”
“Crystals?” Dad sat straight up, his dark eyes sharp. “Like the Strangers?”
“No, no. She definitely wasn’t a Stranger—these were different. And they were in the wrong place on her body; not up by the collarbone.” Yvonne shook her head, pinching her lip between two fingers. “I always sensed she was different, that there was something she wasn’t telling me. Not in a bad way, Cat. I’d trust Ana with my life. It was like she was . . . hiding from someone. Or something.”
“I still don’t see why that has anything to do with the glowing crystals we found,” Cat said stubbornly.
“I’m not sure either, but if they were found in George’s workroom, and his daughter has crystals in her skin . . . I doubt it’s a coincidence.” Dad drummed his fingers on the table.
“But . . . what if George and Ana are . . .” Cat allowed her voice to trail off as she struggled for the right words. “. . . not to be trusted? I mean . . . crystals? When I think of crystals, I think of the Strangers. And I can’t say it makes me very comfortable knowing your friend Ana wears crystals.” She glanced at Yvonne, who frowned back at her.
Dad sighed and settled back in his chair, then ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. He looked from one daughter to the other, then sighed again. “All right. Girls”—he still always called them girls, even though they were both in their twenties—“there’s something I need to tell you.”
Oh shit. Cat didn’t like the sound of that, nor his arrested expression.
“What?” Yvonne demanded, her face and voice as tense as Cat felt. “I knew there was something going on with you, Dad. I knew it.”
Cat resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d been the one living with Dad for the last six years—since Yvonne got married. As if her sister had any clue what was going on with their dad.
But apparently she herself didn’t either.
“You have to keep it a secret. It’s imperative. My life—and that of others—depends on it. Can you do that?”
Her heart pounding, Cat nodded. “Of course, Dad. I’d never do anything to endanger you.” She exchanged glances with Yvonne and saw the same apprehension and confusion in her sister’s face.
“I’m . . . uh . . . involved in a group,” he said, obviously choosing his words carefully. “A secret group that’s trying to . . . well, hell, how do I explain this? A group that’s banded together to build up a resistance to the Strangers. We’re in the process of buildi
ng a rudimentary communication network using computers.”
“Computers?” Cat breathed. “Like the old Internet?” A tingle of excitement blipped through her.
Dad nodded. “It’s real spotty, but one of the locations is now here in Glenway. Thanks to me.” He held up a hand when his daughters would have peppered him with questions. “I can’t give you more details right now. I can’t,” he added sharply. “The fewer people who know, the safer we all are. But I can tell you this much: Ana and George can be trusted. I know this for a fact. They’re part of the group. And so that,” he said, spearing Cat with his eyes, “is why I have to bring those crystals to Envy. They mean something. I don’t know what, but I think someone there can help. They need to know about them. Things are happening.”
Cat became aware of her heart pounding in her chest and a queasy feeling roiling her belly. A secret group. A resistance.
All at once little things began to fall into place in her mind: hushed voices, her father leaving their house at odd times. The cloth-wrapped packages he occasionally brought home. He’d always claimed it was part of his job as a medic, which made sense. But now those details took on new meaning.
He’d always tried to help people when they needed help, using whatever medical training he’d been able to get over the years from other people and from books; there was no formal place to learn medical practice like in the days of Grey’s Anatomy or ER. But she’d never thought of her father as a person who bucked the system, who caused ripples. She thought of him as a peacemaker, a healer.
He’d always been just Dad: comforting, supportive, and strong. Funny. Stern. A terrible cook.
“Wow,” she breathed, looking at him with new eyes.
“So,” he said, looking back at her, “I’m going to Envy. If you want to come, I’d like it. And they’re having a big celebration sometime this week—I’m not sure which day, but it would give us a little bit of a cover for going. Survivors Day, it’s called.”
“Remembering and celebrating all the people who survived the Change,” Yvonne added helpfully. As if Cat couldn’t have figured that out for herself.