New World Ashes

by Jennifer Wilson

  Gage’s face looked like that of a ghost’s in the dim light. His porcelain skin was nearly opalescent. We stared at each other as the automobile trundled along, whirring in its oddly high-pitched tone. Neither of us spoke. Every few moments the corner of Gage’s mouth would pull up in a sneer before returning to its usual smirk. He knew something and this silent treatment was his personal attempt at torture.

  My silence, on the other hand, was due to the fact that every ounce of strength I had was focused on staying conscious. The past few days of dehydration and of sleepless hallucinations had drained me. Even the short, impromptu walk to the transport garage had left my knees shaking. Each time my eyelids blinked a little too slowly or I saw black rimming my vision, I pulled harder at the restraints. My feet were becoming slick as my blood trickled to the floor. But the harder the restraints cut, the more alert I became. I had to stay conscious. Thanks to the subdued lighting, Gage didn’t notice.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “Why a man who could have anything is so obsessed with you, I will never understand.”

  Gage’s words hung in the air as we went back to glaring at each other. This time, however, my mind was working. There was a truth to his words. The Minister was a man who got what he wanted—whatever he wanted. He never lost…

  The vibrations in the floor began to slow. We were stopping. When the engine cut off, the light went out again. I took this brief opportunity to close my eyes, smothering the threatening tears of pain and exhaustion. I barely managed to open them again when the back doors sprung open. A blast of night air hit my face. I couldn’t repress a tiny smile. It smelled like the night, like life, like… freedom. I stared out at the dark calling to me.

  A cold finger caressed the side of my face. I yanked backward, but Gage’s hand wrapped in my hair. With a thrust of his fist he jerked my head to the side, exposing my neck. A hungry look blossomed in his gaze as his free hand traced a line across my throat. I pulled violently at my manacles but they didn’t yield. He pulled harder. I could feel the follicles separating from my skull. Every fiber of my being froze as Gage leaned down and trailed his nose along my exposed neck.

  He sniffed me.

  His thin lips traced behind his nose, catching on my skin. When his lips found my ear he laughed quietly before speaking. “Tonight—when you wish you were dead—come find me. I will be happy to oblige.”

  Giving my hair one last yank, he threw my head to the side and stepped back. I bared my teeth as I lunged for him like a wild animal. He merely laughed coolly as I struggled against my chains. With a skeletal smile, Gage turned and strode from the metal box.

  I slumped back against the wall, letting my eyelids fall half closed. I could feel the heat boiling in my veins as the guards came to gather me. Gage thought I would want to die after tonight’s new torture. If I was going to die tonight though, it would be on my terms. That little piece of crap would never feel the joy of being the one who finally beat me down. I didn’t have a lot of choices here, but I could choose one thing. I could choose my own demise. It was better to die trying. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let the untamed beast within me take control.

  There was a heavy clanking on the floor. My feet were unbound. As the chain restraining my handcuffs clicked free, I sprang to life, surprising myself as well as the two guards. I dove forward, smashing the top of my head into the kneeling guard’s face. There was a satisfying crunch before he slumped to the ground holding his nose. The metal box exploded with a deafening noise as the other guard’s gun went off. I felt a lightening bolt of heat sear the tip of my right ear before the bullet ricocheted off the wall behind my head. In one clean move, I slammed my casted arm into his face. There were two distinct crunches as I broke his cheekbone and my own newly set arm. We both bellowed in pain, but as he fell back, I leapt forward. The blackness was creeping in again; the pain in my arm was no longer keeping it at bay. My feet were moving, but I could barely sense what I was doing.

  I flung myself from the back of the vehicle, tackling the nearest body. It wasn’t until my fingers snagged a fistful of brown hair that I realized it was Gage. We tumbled into a tangled heap. The world seemed to spin as I lashed out, kicking, biting and punching whatever I could reach. With well-timed strikes, I slammed his head into the pavement as we rolled. Finally, we slid to a halt tumbling apart. Gage’s body was sprawled on the ground face down, struggling to push itself upright. He was nearly unrecognizable. Blood stained his pale skin. A flap of flesh hung loose below his right eye. I somehow managed to come up in a crouch about five feet away. I was sure the injuries my body had sustained were substantial, but I felt nothing.

  I chanced a glance upward. We were in an alleyway. Smooth walls blocked both sides in front and behind me. To my left, a foreboding bright light seeped into the mouth of the alley. The transport vehicle blocked my right, its oversized body nearly scraping the alley walls. In the little space, new guards were emerging from around the front of the truck in total disarray. Everything had happened so fast they seemed at a loss, guns pointed in the truck, at Gage and at me.

  Fire. I pleaded. Just fire and get it over with…

  But they didn’t. They had been instructed not to shoot. Gage was stirring, reaching for his own firearm. I knew he would not hesitate.

  Not him, I reminded myself. My mind shut off and for the first time in my life, I chose flight over fight. Without a second glance I took off toward the pool of light.

  It was a surreal feeling, like my body and mind were no longer one. I knew better than to panic. Panic gets you killed. But that was exactly what I was doing. My body scrambled down the alleyway, staggering drunkenly with exhaustion, while my mind screamed for it to stop. NO!!! That’s the wrong way! You’re going the wrong way!

  My body recoiled as it burst into the brilliant lights, my retinas searing as they tried to adjust. I barely caught sight of the glinting silver uniforms patrolling the area before my feet collided with something heavy on the ground. There was an exhilarating moment of freedom as my body became airborne, but as quickly as the euphoric feeling began, it vanished. The concrete met my body with shattering force. I could feel each collision—each mind-jarring connection—as my individual body parts collided with the ground. When the shocks of pain finally stopped, I lay still unable to move. My fingertips were the first things to regain sensation. I scraped them over the rough surface. It felt oddly warm. I pulled my hand away from the concrete. It was slick. I blinked into the haze of white. Something was going in and out of focus, the oddly shaped blob blurring red and white. Slowly, my palm and fingers began to define themselves. My breath caught.

  Blood.

  Not only was my hand covered in the fresh vibrantly red blood, but it was all over my body, blotching my skin like a sick abstract painting. I gagged as the coppery tang suddenly overwhelmed me. I must have been shot. That was the only logical way to explain such an amount of blood. I pulled myself to my knees, waiting for the real pain to start.

  My head swiveled idly toward whatever had tripped me and the world stopped.

  It didn’t just stop. The entire universe imploded.

  No… no it was not my blood…

  My soul—if I still even had one—was being sucked into oblivion. The pain was greater than anything I had ever felt in my sad existence of a life. The ground seemed to fall away and the only sound I could hear was a cry like that of a dying animal.

  The blood looked like a river flooding the pristine street. It was everywhere, but all I could see were the bodies.

  Two bodies…

  Two disfigured and damaged bodies… but I knew those bodies.

  I knew them…

  There was a larger, obviously male body and a smaller one next to it I couldn’t bear to look at. The larger body was turned, shielding the child next to him in their last moments. I could feel the last piece of me splinter into nothingness as I stared at the larger body with the perfectly sandy hair. There was blood staining
the sun-kissed locks like a grotesque Tribe statement. I knew those broad shoulders, those oddly gentle calloused hands…

  Those hazel eyes that I would never see open again.

  The screaming got louder as I thought his name.

  Triven…

  My eyes traced his body to the small brown head cradled in his arms. I couldn’t look any further—to see if her body too was riddled with bullets. I knew it would be. I couldn’t even think her name. I couldn’t handle any more.

  The screams cut off as I retched. There was nothing in my stomach to throw up, but still my body convulsed and heaved as it tried to expel what it knew.

  They were gone…

  Just like my parents, they were gone. I could not survive this again, not this time. I felt it—my soul was dying. The vessel that was my body was just that—an empty container and nothing more. This is what it meant to be broken. This is what it meant to die inside.

  I began to reach for the bodies, a perverse need somewhere deep within me that needed to know they were real. That had to touch them. My fingertips grazed the lifeless back of Triven’s jacket.

  It was solid.

  It was still warm.

  The screams morphed into sobs of hysteria, the sound echoing in the square. A part of me could sense the soldiers around me moving away in fear or in shame. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I began to crawl closer to the bodies. The only thing left in life I wanted was to lie down and die next to them, but someone stopped me.

  Vise-like arms constricted around chest pinning my hands, dragging me to my feet. As he pulled me away from the bodies, I screamed and kicked and snapped at his arms, all coherent thought now gone. One large hand released me just long enough to slap my face so hard I saw an explosion of stars. My body went slack as my screams cut off. It was as if he had smacked the last bit of life out of me. Everything went numb. The man holding me grunted with the effort of holding my limp body upright.

  Ryker’s cool voice swam in my ear. “Damn it Princess, you had better stand up or you’re going to regret it.”

  His words meant nothing to me. He was speaking to air—to a hollow shell. It wasn’t until I heard the smooth, crooning voice that I found my feet again.

  “You realize this is your fault, Prea.” The Minister appeared before me, his spotless white suit making him look like an apparition under the bright lights. He leaned in to emphasize his words. “If you would have just done what I asked and given them to me, your little friends here wouldn’t have had to die.”

  I lashed out, managing to free my unbroken arm. Ryker pulled me away just a fraction too slowly. Curving my hand like a claw, I slashed into Minister Fandrin’s face, leaving behind five angry red streaks that were already beading with blood. The Minister howled in rage as I continued to writhe in the Major’s arms.

  Pressing his hand over his cheek The Minister glared at me. “Remember child, their blood is on your hands.” He pointed at the bodies next to us.

  “Now, get her out of my face before I kill her myself.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ryker barked.

  A soon as Fandrin was no longer in sight I went limp again. Ryker half-dragged, half-carried me back to the transport vehicle. I didn’t notice if the other guards were still there. I didn’t even care if Gage was there or not. I didn’t care about anything. I didn’t exist anymore.

  I was only half conscious when Ryker threw me back into my mobile prison. My head made a loud banging sound as it struck the metal floor, but I didn’t feel it.

  I vaguely heard Ryker say, “Your chariot awaits,” before he slammed the doors and cast me into the darkness.

  The floor hummed and the light came on. I stared at my unshackled hands. The loose chains bounced on the floor next to my head. They hadn’t even bothered to restrain me. I watched the shackles move, less out of interest and more out of the inability to look away. As my ear pressed deeper into the metal floor, an explosion painfully vibrated the surface beneath me. Then the chains and my arms were suddenly airborne. My entire body was floating through the open space of the empty container. Then it struck a surface. The world rolled, banged and exploded around me. I let gravity pull and push my body without opposition, barely acknowledging the cracking and splintering I felt as I collided with unending metal surface after unending metal surface. It was dark when it stopped.

  I was no longer lying on the floor but on the ceiling of the truck, the barely flickering dome light pressing into my temple. I groaned, tilting my head in the direction of a sound coming from outside.

  Without warning the doors sprang open. Two large shadows began to pull at me, dragging me away from the overturned transport vehicle.

  There was fire engulfing the street and arms were lifting me. Someone was talking to me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even fight or call out. Instead, I just closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.

  Maybe it was Death’s arms, finally come to take me away. I hoped it was. Sometimes, it was better to be the ones who died, than the one left to live…

  10. ILLUSIONS

  SOMETHING COOL TRICKLED down the side of my face. The droplet trailed over my jaw line and behind my neck before being absorbed into the cushioned surface beneath me. The cold trail left a tingling sensation in its wake. It should have felt refreshing, good against my hot skin, but it didn’t… I felt nothing. I couldn’t remember what had happened or where I was. There was something lingering at the edge of the hazy fog. Something I should remember… something I didn’t want to. Tears were beginning to leak from under my closed eyelids.

  There was something wrong… something had happened… what was it?

  A cooled surface touched my forehead as something else large and warm grazed my cheek. The result was like an electric shock. My body surged back to life as my hands flew out, knocking away whatever had touched me. There was a clattering and the startled sound of shuffling feet. It was a reflex. I was abruptly on my feet staring wildly about a dimly lit room. My heart pounded so hard against my chest it hurt.

  The surface beneath my feet was padded, the springs of the bed squeaking as I shifted my weight. My arm felt lighter. Twisting my wrist, I was vaguely aware that the cumbersome cast was gone, as well as the pain. In fact, all of the pain was gone. The room blurred in and out of focus. When it finally cleared, I fell back against the wall with a cry of despair. I realized what had touched me. Unbridled horror trapped the scream rising in my throat.

  A sandy-haired figure stood in front of me, his eyes bright.

  I was staring at the boy I loved. The boy I had gotten killed.

  Triven stared back at me.

  Everything came rushing back. Everything I had done, everything I had lost—My fault, all my fault—and now it would haunt me forever. It was my hallucinations all over again. He looked slimmer than I remembered, his usually handsome face tired and pale. But I knew it was an illusion. My mind was punishing me for what I had done. Tearing my eyes away, I cast them down at myself. I was still wearing my dark prisoner’s uniform. Blood—his blood—stained the dark fabric.

  I recoiled in defense as he took a step closer, halting him on the spot. I loved him, but I couldn’t take this anymore. I couldn’t stand to look at his face every day and know that I had caused his and Mouse’s deaths. Anger overwhelmed me. Hoping to make the specter vanish, I struck out, intending to sweep away his illusion.

  Instead, the room echoed with a sharp smack as my hand met not air—as I had expected—but solid, warm flesh. I yanked my hand away, clutching it protectively to my chest. The palm was stinging. Triven’s face mirrored my own, shock and pain evident in his hazel eyes. There was a glowing patch of pink blossoming on his cheek.

  “Prea?” His voice was honey, so much deeper and stronger than any of my hallucination’s had been.

  I flung myself from the bed, slamming into his body. Triven’s arms wound around me, gathering me to his chest as his hands roamed over my body. They moved soothing my hair, tracing my
face and holding me to him.

  He was real. He was alive. Tears sprung to my eyes.

  My fingers fumbled numbly around his waist, trying to pull him closer. They brushed against something hard and metal, the hilt of a gun. My hands jerked away from the weapon as the image of Triven’s and Mouse’s dead bodies flashed in my mind. I tangled my hands in his shirt, clinging to his chest, hardly able to stand on my own.

  “You were… dead.” My voice broke on the last word. My chest constricted painfully. “Mouse?”

  “She’s fine, perfectly safe. I sent her to get some rest. It wasn’t us…We tried… We didn’t know… I’m so sorry Prea.” He took a steadying breath, but whatever he was going to say never made it past his lips. The moment Triven’s mouth opened to continue, the door to our tiny room opened.

  My heart stopped.

  Standing in the doorway with blood running down the side of his face and a poorly applied bandage wrapping his head was Major Ryker James.

  With no hesitation I shoved Triven. Spinning him out of the way, I unsheathed the gun from his belt and pointed it into the face of the Major. Unlike my aversion to touching the weapon earlier, my hands now curled eagerly around the gun like it was a long lost friend. I snarled and pulled the trigger just as something large knocked my arm sideways.

  Ryker barely moved as the wall next to his head burst into tiny bits. The fragments scattering to the floor sounded like rain after the echoing thunder of the gunshot. I yanked my arm to fire again but something was holding my wrist, keeping the gun pointed safely at the floor. I stared incredulously at Triven’s iron grip on my wrist.

  I pulled again trying to free myself.

  “Let go of me! Do you have any idea who this is? WHAT HE HAS DONE!” I shrieked. Practically growling, I turned my rage on Triven only to find his hazel eyes full of guilt and confession.