Survived (Revived, #2)

by Jodie Kobe

  I've been this close to him before, but only because the lunch tables in the underground complex were packed. This feels different. I'm not being pressed to him because there's a lack of space.

  My heart thumps against my ribcage, and I listen to it, wondering if anyone else hears it in this silence.

  If someone passes by, they will see the group half asleep. But this is the only place we can find. It will have to do, I think as I close my eyes.

  ~~~

  The shadow settling over my face is what wakes me up. My hands sting, is what I notice second. With my heartbeat picking up, I peel my eyes open.

  The blur in my vision disappears, and my surroundings sharpen. I focus on a pair of shiny shoes.

  Slowly, I tilt my head back to look into the eyes of the familiar person in front of me. His hair is messed up, just like when I saw him last. He still wears a crisp suit.

  Marcus Kent.

  Everything hits me in one blow, and I realize that whatever happened to me might have been a dream. But it was so real.

  “Hello, again,” Kent says.

  Again. So maybe it wasn't a dream.

  I nearly fall back on the chair I'm chained to. I'm in the same cold, gray room again. I start to twist my head around, trying to get a look around, but large hands clamp down on either side of my head, preventing me from moving at all anymore. I can feel a presence behind me, but I can't see their face.

  Where's Fox? Where's Addison? Where's Rian? Where's Laurey? How about Jarrod?

  “I hope I didn't startle you,” Kent says, taking a seat in the empty chair behind him.

  “How am I here?” The questions are already slipping from my mouth. “How did you bring me here?” Wasn't Fox keeping watch?

  Kent crosses his arms. “You know about tranquilizer darts, right?”

  I yank on my hands. They're tied behind me, just like last time. It's like I never left.

  “Like I said, I'm not helping you,” I say. But my voice cracks as I think of the others. I hope they're all right. Even Jarrod.

  Kent did just mention tranquilizer darts. My head throbs from the thought of them, and because of the hands clamping me in place.

  “I don't need your help anymore. I found the leader you were talking about. The leader of the hideout.”

  He found Caleb? How? Is he here with us?

  Kent's eyes move up to the person standing behind me. He waves his hand once and the large hands holding my head release me, pulling away whatever weight is giving me the headache.

  I take this as an opportunity to turn my head around. My eyes land on two chairs in each of the back corners of the room. A person occupies each seat. One is dressed in gray, while the other in black. This one has long blond hair. Female. Both of their heads are down, but I already know who they are. Laurey and Jarrod.

  But what Kent wants me to see isn’t Laurey or Jarrod. It’s the guy who is pushed into my view.

  Kent stands up from his seat and forces the stumbling guy into it. Then I realize who this blond-haired guy is.

  Rian.

  I search his face, looking for any bruises or anything telling me he’s hurt.

  I gasp. “What is this?”

  Kent holds Rian down in the chair, but surprisingly, Rian doesn’t squirm. “I,” Kent starts, “present you the leader.”

  I don’t understand. How is this the leader? “I…”

  Kent frowns and looks down at Rian. “The leader of the hideout. You said his name is Rian.”

  When did I say—? Oh. I did tell him that. I had completely forgotten about it. Did I really do that—put Rian in danger?

  “What are you talking about?” Rian asks, his voice hoarse.

  I don’t know what to say to Kent, but he has to know Rian is not the guy he’s looking for.

  “He’s…” I hesitate. “He’s not the real leader. I lied to you.” I have to remind myself the reason Kent knows Rian's name is because I used his name last night—or whenever that was. So people were monitoring me that whole time, and they heard.

  Kent stares at me, looking humiliated for the first time since I’ve met him. “Excuse me? Not the leader?” He growls and pushes Rian off the chair. Having nothing to balance himself out because of his handcuffed hands, Rian scrambles away ungracefully, nearly face-planting on the hard cement floor. He’s dragged away from my view by a guard who's been hiding behind me this entire time. But it's not the same one who held my head in place. Because before Rian and the guard completely disappear from my vision, dark hands clamp down on my head once more.

  “Rian!” I call out, forced to look at Kent. “What happened?”

  But Rian doesn’t answer, and I think he's been instructed not to. Is there a gun pointed at his head right now?

  Fox did a terrible job keeping watch, but I know I can't blame him. We were all knocked out with darts.

  So Fox was right. That’s what we were waiting for—Kent to come get us.

  Kent spreads his hands out, gesturing at the cold and empty room. “You like what I did with the place? Two decorations in the corners, while the rest of your group hangs out behind you.

  Behind me? So Fox and Addison are in this room too. But they’re not saying anything. I would expect Fox to talk back.

  “What I am fascinated by,” Kent begins, “is where you got your uniforms. They look familiar to mine, but not entirely.”

  The design is similar to his guards’ uniforms, so I understand why he thinks they look the same.

  “So?” he prompts, eyes on me.

  How am I supposed to know where they got the uniforms? I was not there with them.

  My answer is a shake of my head.

  Kent’s eyes shift to look somewhere behind me. He waves a finger. “Let him speak.”

  No one replies for a while. Then I hear Rian’s voice. “They were given to us.”

  I’m surprised he doesn’t say they found them.

  Kent arches his eyebrows. “Given to you? By whom?”

  “A team of people,” Rian’s voice answers.

  Mr. Welds, is what I think. He’s the man who runs the vast underground building. Mr. Welds and his team of people.

  “And what exactly is this man’s name?” Kent asks.

  “He’s far away. It doesn’t matter what his name is.”

  Kent laughs. “Oh, of course it does. Names may be insignificant to you, but it’s the other way around for me.”

  He doesn’t seem to realize that Rian said far away. As in not in this town. Isn’t Kent interested in what’s out there?

  There is no answer from Rian, so Kent looks at me. “Well? Do you know his name.”

  I clench my jaw, not sure if it matters if I spill Jack Welds’ name. Rian isn’t saying anything, so should I? How about a fake name?

  But what I tell him is “No, I don’t know him.”

  Kent clicks his tongue and lifts a finger. I don’t know what it mean—

  But I understand when a foot shoves the chair I’m sitting at, hard. I jump, but I’m not hurt.

  “Talk.” The voice in my ear is low, but familiar. And that’s when I realize I know whose dark hands are over my head, and I stiffen.

  Denham, the commander who took me out of my cell to speak with me. He had said he knows the white building I came from. Does he know the people in it? Does he know Jack Welds?

  Kent sighs and waves a hand. “Ah, you gave away your identity. Miss Vivian knows it’s you, Carnez.”

  I realize my eyes have widened.

  Kent places his hand on the empty chair next to him. “Here, Carnez, sit down. She might be more comfortable talking about it with you since you two share the same information. Let go of her head. She’s welcome to get a look at her friends.”

  Denham obeys, and soon, his large hands are lifted from my head. I breathe in and take a quick look behind me. Fox, Rian, Addison, and a guard all stand there.

  Fox is limp on the ground along with Addison. Rian i
s the only one who’s standing. And like I had suspected earlier, the guard next to him has a gun pressed to his head.

  I don’t have a chance to say anything before my head is yanked forward again until I'm looking at Denham seated in the chair in front of me. Kent is the who has his hand on my head.

  “That’s all you get for now. Look at Carnez, Vivian,” he says.

  I grunt and lock my eyes on Denham, who has a smile on his face. But that smile isn’t warm.

  “The man’s name is Jack, isn’t it?” he starts. Hearing that name brings a wave of ice to my blood. “Jack Welds?” I say nothing. The smile on Denham’s face widens. “You do know him, don’t you?”

  But how does he know him? If I ask this question, then I would basically be admitting that I’ve met Mr. Welds before. But what’s the point? Denham has already found out.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Denham leans back in his chair and looks up at Kent with the smile on his face. “See?”

  “Hmm” is Kent’s reply.

  Denham focuses on me. “So he has already built something new, hasn’t he?”

  I stare, dumbfounded, at him. “Y-you...you lived there?”

  He scoffs. “Who told you that?”

  “You just did,” I say.

  Denham looks taken aback. “No, I didn’t.”

  I turn my head back to get a split second look into Rian’s wide eyes. “Rian, do you know who Denham Carnez is?”

  But Kent forces my head to turn away, saying, “He’s not allowed to speak unless I give him permission.”

  “Then I won’t talk,” I say back.

  I hear Kent laugh. “Very well. Shoot him.”

  Who? But I choke on my own spit at the words. “What? No! No—don’t—fine, I’ll talk!”

  Kent pats my head. “Good choice.”

  I stiffen and ask Denham, “What do you want?”

  He folds his hands out in front of him. “If it’s not that guy Rian, then who is in charge of the criminals’ hideout?”

  I take a deep breath, practically hearing a voice in my head singing, Traitor, traitor. You’re such a traitor.

  “His name is Caleb.”

  I tell myself it’s just a name. A name that holds no meaning. There are probably many Calebs there. Kent has no last name. No description. I've just saved someone's life by cooperating, but I must have endangered the hundreds in the hideout.

  "Now, was that so difficult?” Denham inquires.

  Yes.

  Kent steps away from my line of sight, taking his hand off my head. But I don’t look behind me at Rian and the others. I am listening to Denham.

  “The misunderstanding with the leader is quite a disappointment, really,” he says. “But this Caleb guy—” he shakes a finger— “how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  There is only one more person in this room who knows that Caleb exists. Jarrod. But that’s assuming he’s part of the hideout group.

  But Denham has already caught on. He casts a glance at Jarrod, who sits unconscious in the chair in the corner of the room.

  Denham points to Jarrod’s limp form. “He looks like a reliable source.”

  I chew on my tongue.

  Denham stands up. “Better go wake him up.”

  My eyes follow Denham to Jarrod’s slouched body. But then I remember Rian is behind me, and I still don't know if everyone's all right.

  “Rian, is anyone hurt? Do you know?” I ask as I twist my head around to look at him. He lowers his head down and starts to shake his head. But the look on his face does not make it clear what he’s trying to say. Is he telling me that everyone's hurt, or is he reminding me that he's not allowed to talk?

  Kent makes sure I don’t continue the conversation. He slaps my head, bringing me back to face the front. “Like I informed you earlier, he cannot answer unless I permit him.”

  I say nothing, but turn my head to get a view of Denham and Jarrod from my peripheral vision. Denham has something in his hand, but it’s not clear to me what it is. The motion he makes with it—stabbing Jarrod is his shoulder—makes me cringe. Then I realize that it’s a syringe meant to wake Jarrod up because moments later, he gasps and flies up into a straighter posture in his chair.

  Jarrod’s head darts left and right. He gasps again and manages to get a few words out. “What the hell? Where am I? What is this?”

  He has noticed the cuffs wrapped around his wrists because he strains his head back to get a look at the strange thing keeping his hands together. Then his eyes land on the people behind me; then they find their way to where I am.

  “Vivian? What happened?”

  I’m wondering the same thing. So “I don’t know” is what I say. The lost look on his face could either be real or fake.

  Denham doesn’t let Jarrod ask anymore questions. He pinches half the guy’s face and jerks his head up, forcing him to stare at the commander.

  “Don’t look anywhere else,” Denham says calmly, his voice almost haunting. “But answer this. Who’s in charge of running your hideout?”

  Jarrod stutters out incoherent words and recoils because of the personal space Denham isn’t considering.

  “Who is the head of your group?” Denham asks again. “You don’t want your fingers cut off, do you?”

  Jarrod shakes his head frantically. “No, no, I’ll tell you. His name’s Caleb.” He says it like it's no big deal, but everyone else seems to freeze as they realize I told the truth. But they don’t know how Caleb looks like.

  However, Denham’s smart enough to ask. He turns to ask me this question. “So, how does this Caleb leader look like?”

  I swallow and look at everyone behind me, fearful they will hate me for telling them. But only Rian is conscious, and he doesn’t know anyone in this place. Jarrod is avoiding everyone’s eyes, so I can’t tell what he wants me to do.

  “He,” I start, “looks…” Guilt tugs at me, forcing me to veer away from the answer. “I forgot.” But I can’t forget, because his appearance isn’t forgettable. Towering and formidable with his black tattoo covering his entire arm, but surprisingly not harsh with his words. “I only saw him once, just for a little bit.”

  Denham scoffs and turns to Jarrod, muttering, “That’s fine. I have this guy, and he's been living here for quite some time now. I’m sure he's capable of describing him. So?”

  If Jarrod decides to tell them, then I won’t be the only traitor here.

  “He…” Jarrod doesn’t know how to start either. He takes a deep breath and gets it out quickly. “Man, he’s really tall. Has a tattoo on his arm. Black hair. Uh...sharp nose, I think?”

  It’s about what I can remember too, and Jarrod has known Caleb for longer than I have.

  Denham pulls away and raises his hands to fix the collar of his own shirt.

  A realization hits me in the face. On Denham's right hand—and I really doubt I’m imagining it—is a swirl of black graffiti weaving through his fingers. How did I not see it before? Even when I first met him? It stands out like a building in the middle of a barren field.

  All the breath has been knocked out of me.

  He kept his hand hidden behind his back, that's why I had not noticed it the first time. He even ordered someone to bring him gloves to cover the tattoo.

  But that’s not possible. This cannot be the same tattoo I have. Because...because he…

  How could he have lived in the underground complex if he’s living right here?

  CHAPTER 18

  V I V I A N

  I squeak.

  But Denham doesn’t give me much attention. He turns to Kent, who’s standing by my side.

  “We need to keep a look out for this Caleb guy,” Denham says. “He has to come out of hiding every once in a while.”

  Kent nods. “I'll have my guards bring in anyone who matches his description.” He waves a hand toward me. “Knock all of them out. We need to continue with the project.”

  I shake my head and pull on my
cuffs. “Wait!” I call. “Denham, your hand—”

  “It's Commander Carnez,” Kent tries to correct, but no one's really paying attention to him.

  Denham frowns and turns his hand over, inspecting it. But when he looks back up at me, he has an amused look on his face. Instead of getting an explanation, I get the pinch of a needle in my neck. The pain only lasts for a second before everything fades away.

  ~~~

  My head throbs as everything starts coming back to me. My back is pressed up against a hard ground.

  My hands are no longer tied. They are spread out on the cold concrete I'm laying on.

  I open my eyes to dawn.

  I'm in the same alley our small group of people had fallen asleep in. Five bodies are sprawled out on the ground. Addison, Rian, Laurey, Fox, and Jarrod. They're all here.

  Kent let us go. Why would he let us go?

  Because we can help him find the hideout.

  If he kept us locked up, then we would be useless. We're already being monitored—I know it. Jarrod will want to go back to the hideout, but I can't allow it. He'll get tracked—wait...did the others get trackers like I did?

  I look down at my arm, anticipating a glow to come from my arm like it did the first time I woke up with the blue light. But there is no glow. However, the others might have it.

  I cringe as I hop to my feet. Everyone else is unconscious, so it's silent. Even the town is still empty.

  I crouch down next to Rian, who's lying on his back with one arm over his stomach. Gently, I pick up one of his arms, turning it over to try to locate any hint that Kent's tracker is living in his flesh. Nothing. It's either turned off and invisible, or it's not there at all. After I check his other arm and find nothing, I move on to Addison.

  Nothing. The others don't have anything else either. Not even Jarrod.

  But something else catches my eye after I'm done checking for chips. The black uniforms the group was wearing earlier have been replaced.

  The group is now dressed in matching old pants and sweatshirts. It's the same thing I was given when I first met Denham.

  But who is this Denham with the swirl of graffiti on his fingers? Why is he here? And what are we going to do without the suits? Can we go back to the underground facility without them? The weapons were taken too. We're completely helpless now.

  I shake Rian's shoulders. He doesn't stir. I put my fingers underneath his nose to make sure he's breathing. He is.