The First City (The Dominion Trilogy Book 3)

by Joe Hart

  39

  She finds Lee in a room on the second floor overlooking the magnificent drop of the canyon behind the inn. He’s drawn back the covers of the bed, and though the room smells stale, and there are blotchy stains on the carpet that might be ancient blood, there is a permeation of safety in the room as he looks at her. Tomorrow will be terrible. Nearly unbearable. But they can have tonight. Tonight is safe.

  She crosses the room, pulling him to her and laying her head against his chest. She listens to his breathing, trying to memorize the sound.

  They sway there together for a long time, the final light of day draining from outside the window until they are only shapes in the dark.

  We’re dancing, she thinks absently, remembering how Merrill and Chelsea moved with one another at Ian’s home one night not long after she took her first steps unassisted. Music had been playing from Ian’s old speaker, something slow and soft with a man’s crooning voice saying words brimming with love and sadness. And they had danced, holding each other like she and Lee do now.

  “What if you can’t get out? What if you can’t come back to us?” he whispers after what could’ve been hours. She blinks, wondering if she might’ve been dreaming. Maybe she still is.

  “I will.”

  “But what if you don’t?”

  She draws a little away from him and lets a small smile emerge. “Then I guess it’ll be your turn to rescue me.”

  He dips his head and kisses her, deeply, long and sweet.

  They move to the bed and lie down together, and in the darkness with his skin against hers, the coiling fear unwinds and drifts away like a nightmare unraveling in a sunlit morning.

  She is awake before the horizon is even a hairline crack of gray.

  She dresses, sitting on the bed beside Lee as he sleeps, one hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall. He looks peaceful, dreaming something pleasant she hopes. He is strong, much stronger than she ever gave him credit for. He will be a terrific father, just like his own was.

  Zoey leaves the room, pulling the heavy door shut behind her before moving down the dark hallway of the inn. It’s easy to tell which rooms the others are staying in: almost all of them are open. Tia lies on top of her covers in one, facing away from the door, her rifle standing up at the foot of the bed; Ian snores in another on his back, hands folded neatly on his chest. At the end of the hall, the stairs branch in two directions and she climbs up, pushing through a door that’s ajar at the top, onto the roof. A knee-high wall surrounds the roof’s edge and a layer of rock covers some kind of springy material beneath it. The air has a snap to it that stings all the way to the bottom of her lungs. Nell stands at the southwest corner of the building, looking out over the shadow-stained landscape beyond. She glances over one shoulder as Zoey approaches before returning her gaze to the dark slithering line of road past the inn’s drive.

  “How was the night?” Zoey asks, tugging her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

  “Quiet and cold. How was yours?”

  “Good.”

  They stand without speaking for several minutes before Zoey turns her attention to the east. “I always liked this time of day, right before the sun comes up. There’s something about the way the light washes over everything. It’s like a cleansing. A new start.”

  “Anything can happen,” Nell says. “That’s what Robbie used to tell me. Each day is an opportunity, you never know what’s in store.” The older woman smiles sadly. “It’s been a long time since I really believed that.”

  Zoey studies her, this remarkable woman. “How did you get through it? Losing Rita?”

  Nell’s brow furrows, and a hardness settles on her features. “I didn’t. I died over and over after they took her. I replayed every single second of it in my mind, so much so that life became less real. I lived in my own head, drowning in misery. I’m sure I was insane.” She frowns, chewing on the inside of her lip as if trying to remember something crucial. “But there was always something that kept me going: the vague notion that Rita was still out there somewhere, still needing me, scared and alone. I would try to forget and drop into depression so deep it was like I was at the bottom of a well, looking up at the world I’d lost like it was a dream, not caring, not daring to hope, but it would always come back. The tiniest notion that if I kept going there was a chance that I’d see her again, if only for a minute. I tried not to think it because it hurt so much, but it was always there.” Nell seems to recede somewhere inside herself before returning. “Now it’s like I’m dreaming again. A sweet dream that will come apart as soon as I open my eyes.”

  Zoey takes her hand. “You’re awake.”

  Nell looks down at their hands and finally nods. “I’m sorry you never found them, your parents.”

  Zoey feels the back of her eyes burn, but she lets out a small laugh. “I did, though. I was lucky enough to have two fathers and a grandfather. I have two mothers, one of which wants to slap sense into me most of the time. I have brothers and sisters and someone who is the other half of me I never knew was missing.” She pauses, struggling to go on. “And now I have a daughter who’s going to have a family right from the start, and if that’s all I accomplish in my life, it will be enough.”

  Nell studies her. “You’re an incredible woman, Zoey. I’m thankful Rita had you while I wasn’t there.”

  “To be honest, Rita and I—”

  “Oh I know how she treated you, she told me. But it doesn’t change the fact that you were there for her.”

  She can’t think of anything to say to that and resigns to simply hold Nell’s hand and watch the sun bleach the darkness away.

  40

  Good-bye again. Always good-bye.

  She gazes at them lined up beside the ASV in the newborn light. They are ashen, downcast, and taciturn, but they are hers.

  Zoey hugs Lyle, telling him thank-you again, and when she pulls back from him his eyes are wet behind his glasses, but he manages to smile for her. Next is Chelsea, who embraces her so tightly she can feel the roundness of her growing belly through their jackets.

  “You’re coming back to us,” Chelsea whispers. “Don’t get comfortable in that place.”

  Zoey laughs, but it is a strangled sound. “I won’t.” Chelsea kisses her on the cheek and steps from her, turning and walking away without looking back.

  Seamus sits next to the ASV’s running board as if he is planning on a ride, and she kneels before him, rubbing both hands on the sides of his wide head. “You keep them safe. All of them. I’m counting on you.” The dog examines her with his quizzical gaze just as he did when she’d first awoken at Ian’s cabin. He licks her chin once and issues a whine deep in his chest.

  Beside him, Rita and Sherell wait. Sherell is already crying and without hesitation the three of them latch onto one another as if a high wind is trying to tear them apart.

  “You’re so stupid,” Rita says in a tear-strained voice. “When are you going to stop being so stupid?” But Zoey feels the other woman’s hold tighten on her.

  “In my nature, I guess.”

  “We love you,” Sherell says as they finally pull apart. “Even if she can’t say it, we do.” Rita gives the barest of nods, her face so red it nearly matches her hair.

  “I love you too. This isn’t the end,” Zoey says, even as her intuition tells her otherwise. “We’ll see each other again.” They both nod and it takes a monumental effort to let go of them, all instinct telling her that if she does, it will be for the last time.

  As they part she gives them the bravest smile she can summon, sure it doesn’t appear brave at all with tears in the corners of her eyes.

  Then she’s forcing herself up and into the ASV, unable to look at them all for another instant, because one more second and she knows she won’t be able to leave.

  Those accompanying her pile in. Merrill first, climbing into the driver’s seat. Ian next with his rifle. Then Tia, glowering and silent, and last Newton and Lee. As Lee begi
ns to shut the door, Seamus steps up on the running board and tries to lunge inside with them but is halted by a hand signal from Ian.

  “Not this time, boy. You stay.” With a chuff the dog reluctantly backs out, throwing Zoey a dejected look that tugs painfully at her heartstring. She focuses on the floor as the door slams shut and the vehicle begins to move. Lee’s hand finds its way to the inside of her arm, giving her a modicum of comfort, but it is like being covered by a thin blanket in a bitter wind.

  She doesn’t look out the windows as they drive because she knows she will recognize their surroundings, the memories of fleeing through them returning as tangible and vivid as if she had left the ARC only yesterday. No, she’ll need her strength when the time comes, when she’ll have to say good-bye and step away from all she loves.

  And she doesn’t know if she’ll have the courage.

  Merrill guides the vehicle around a long turn before slowing it to a stop.

  Here already. So soon.

  Lee squeezes her arm again and they emerge from the ASV into a strong breeze tasting of winter. Here in the high hills above the river the soil is already hardening with frost.

  The road is only a suggestion before them, its lane barely discernable amidst the washed sediment and detritus littering its width. It runs straight for nearly a mile before dropping and curving away. She recalls the pain and fear, running for her life up that incline, away from the downed helicopter with its counterpart landing near the broken wreckage of the crash.

  Her stomach had been a gash of pain.

  Head ringing, nerves shredded with terror.

  Each breath possibly her last.

  “Zoey.”

  Lee stands directly before her, blocking her view of the road. She’d been looking straight through him, lost in the before.

  She shakes herself free of memory. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She looks to the rest of the group, their expressions dour and worried. “I’m okay,” she repeats to them.

  Merrill drags his gaze from her and points north. “That house across the field is the closest shelter. Ian, you can set up there. The rest of us will cover Zoey from here when . . . when it’s time. I’m going to scout a little bit, make sure we don’t have company.” He looks as if he’s going to say something else but instead moves away, climbing a nearby swell in the ground to walk its ridge.

  Ian approaches her, his eyes two glistening pools. “I suppose this is good-bye,” he says quietly as Lee takes a few steps away to give them privacy. “I have to say, I’m quite tired of seeing you go.” His voice breaks on the last word and he reaches out a hand that she holds. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but you remind me so much of my daughter, Lynn. She was as one-minded as you are, you know. I hated that about her after she was killed, her persistence. I thought it was the reason why she died. But now I can see it was her life, it was who she was.” He smiles through the tears. “You’re strong like her, and I am so proud of you, Zoey.”

  She hugs him, feeling his chin rest on the crown of her head. She tries to find something to say to this man who brought her back from the brink of death, who always had a kind word for her, never ceased believing in her. Instead she absorbs his comfort like a balm, letting the future fall away outside his embrace.

  A sound begins to build somewhere to the east. A low chuckle that slowly becomes more defined. At first she thinks it is only the wind careening up through some of the large cuts in the hills, but soon it changes and takes on a huskier growl.

  Engines.

  Ian stiffens and releases her, his gaze locked on the highway before them. With a final look they part, his last smile as warm as a summer afternoon as he runs across the field toward the nearest house.

  Then Tia is by her side, pulling her back toward the vehicle. “Bastards are early. Why are they so early?” she growls, raising her rifle.

  Zoey feels Lee’s hand searching and finding her own as she stares down the length of road.

  “Merrill!” Tia yells, and a second later he appears at the top of the nearest hill, sprinting toward them, his gait partially hindered by his prosthetic. Newton stands to her other side and centers his rifle on the horizon.

  A dark blob appears in the road as if rising directly from the cracked asphalt. Seconds later another follows. The shapes solidify, their edges sharpening until she sees they are two armored vehicles, much smaller than the ASV but still heavily built. A guard stands near the rear of each one, manning a turreted gun.

  The wind carries the stink of diesel fumes to them. Above, a roil of clouds she hadn’t noticed before suffocates the sun. The vehicles decelerate and come to a stop fifty yards away. Inversely, Zoey’s heart picks up speed until it feels like there are no spaces between beats.

  This is it. The circle is complete. I’m going back.

  Home.

  That’s what Vivian had called the ARC. But it was never her home. NOA and all of its agents have never known the meaning of the word.

  The front passenger door on the closest vehicle opens and Vivian herself steps out. She is much as Zoey remembers: slim and tidy, wearing beige slacks and a dark coat, her narrow features mirroring her dress. Her brown hair is pulled back tightly, leaving her hazel eyes unhindered to find Zoey and pin her where she stands.

  The wind drops and an uneasy quiet falls between the two parties.

  “Hello Zoey,” Vivian says.

  “Hello,” she replies, trying to keep the warble from her voice.

  “I’m not surprised to see you here early. I assumed you would be more than punctual.” Vivian takes a step forward and Tia matches it, partially blocking Zoey from her line of sight.

  “Why don’t you just stay right there, bitch,” Tia says. “Or we’ll see how well I can do a lobotomy with a hollow point.”

  The gunmen on the trucks swivel their weapons up but Vivian makes a batting gesture with one hand and their barrels sink.

  “My, my, Zoey, you’ve found some colorful individuals to take up with.”

  “I think you—” Tia begins, but Vivian cuts her off.

  “You know what I think? I think you should lower your weapons and quit this charade of force. You’re outgunned and we all know no one is going to start shooting with Zoey and her child in the crossfire, so let’s cut the posturing, shall we?”

  “Lower your weapons,” Merrill says. Newton does as he’s told, but Tia holds steady and Zoey can see a bead of sweat roll down from her temple. For an instant she imagines Tia firing a bullet straight through Vivian’s head and the return strafing the gunners in the vehicles would retaliate with. Despite the importance of the exchange, she doesn’t doubt it could still end in absolute ruin. When had reason ever kept people from violence?

  “Tia,” Merrill says.

  The tension of the moment holds for another agonizing second before dissolving as Tia lowers her rifle.

  “There. Now we can speak to one another like human beings.”

  “If you were a human being, you’d give us our daughter,” Lee says, his voice carrying across the distance.

  “If you had any sense of duty, Lee Asher, you wouldn’t be standing on that side. You’d be next to me, trying to get Zoey to see reason. But of course I’m not surprised. Your father was a liability just as you are.”

  Lee’s hand leaves Zoey’s even as she tries to grip it harder. He takes two steps before she lunges from behind Tia and snags his arm, pulling him back.

  “Stop,” Zoey says. He stares with pure hatred at Vivian for another beat before letting her guide him back.

  “You’re all the same,” Vivian says, and Zoey can see the snarl carved into her lips. “Weak. You fight and loathe me, but I’ve dedicated my life to ending the Dearth. And now that I have, how do you thank me?” She shakes her head. “With threats.”

  “Where is she?” Zoey says quietly. “Where is our daughter?” Vivian hesitates, eyeing her with the cold consideration of a s
cientist watching an experiment. Zoey clears her throat. “Just so you know, you have crosshairs on your forehead right now. I’ve never seen the man holding the gun miss, so despite all your talk, if you don’t give us our daughter right now, none of this will matter if you’re dead.”

  An almost satisfied smile crosses Vivian’s face and she motions toward the lead vehicle.

  The rear passenger door opens and a guard emerges. It takes Zoey a second to realize the man is Steven, Lily’s cleric. Within the shock of seeing him in this setting she registers that he’s holding something: a bundle of blankets, pink and fluttering. Steven walks to Vivian, transferring the bundle to her arms carefully.

  Comprehension slams into her as if she’s just dropped to the ground from the top of a building.

  That is my daughter. Right there in that woman’s arms. She’s a part of me, wrapped up in blankets, able to think, and breathe, and see the world around her.

  The knowledge might as well be the bullet that stole her ability to walk. All the strength leaves her legs and she has to reach back and grasp Lee’s arm to keep standing. Dimly she registers he is trembling as they start moving forward.

  At the same time Vivian walks toward them, gazing down at the blankets in her arms.

  The gap closes several yards before Zoey falters and turns, looking from Tia to Newton to Merrill. She’s on the brink of running back to them, all the things she wanted to say trying to spill free, but Merrill lifts his chin toward Vivian, heartbreak plain on his face.

  “Go,” he says, and silently mouths the words, We love you.

  I love you too, she returns, finding each of their faces for a brief time.

  And it’s in that moment she knows she’ll never see them again. She feels it as sure as she’s felt anything. This will be the last glimpse of them she’ll take with her. The idea that nothing can be done to her at the ARC that will strip her of this moment, or of any of the time she’s spent with them, gives her enough courage to continue walking.