Sovereign (Sovereign Series)

by E. R. Arroyo

  Shuffling sounds jar me from my thoughts, and I realize Wilson is holding a basket and handing something out to the men. He must know we’re starving. When he gets a little closer, I see his hand in the dim lighting wrapped around a piece of bread, and my own excitement over it sickens me. These soldiers just killed nine men, and left another for dead, and I was a part of it. Now we’re eating their bread.

  If I wasn’t starving, I would reject the bread on principle, but there’s no way that situation would help now or once we get home and explain everything to Nathan. I take the bread.

  And it’s amazing.

  I’ve never had fresh bread. The bread they give us, which isn’t much, is always on the stale, crunchy side. This bread is so soft and moist it practically melts on my tongue.

  The drive home feels twice as long as the ride out. I can’t seem to get comfortable with the idea of falling asleep with this twisted bunch of soldiers, especially the one who shot and missed. I’m sure he’d like to make up for it soon. I’d just begun thinking maybe we could put away whatever childhood issues had caused the dissension between us. It seems, instead, that he was merely waiting for an opportunity to present itself. I’ll have to watch my back and make sure I don’t give him another chance.

  Irony is that they call the men that chased my dad and me when I was a child savages. I see the soldiers of Antius as no different, no better. At least it was hunger and chemical imbalance that drove those monsters to kill. The men that ride this truck with me, and the men that run Antius, are levelheaded, balanced, and, for all intents and purposes, they’re fine. Yet it’s these men that are the real monsters. Nathan is a monster, and every person that fires a gun on his behalf.

  I’ve never been afraid of guns if they are used for the right reasons. Protection, hunting food. Not corruption, nor manipulation of power. Not to slaughter the people who don’t agree to our terms of a deal. Not this.

  I wonder how many others have been killed by Antius. How many meetings-gone-bad. Jacob and Wilson didn’t flinch when things turned sour. It was business as usual.

  I fight to keep from throwing up my bread, then the truck rolls onto the bumpy ground, and up it comes. I hear a chuckle and look to meet eyes with Jacob, who grins.

  “Fresh bread’s a little rich for a bland-fed belly. Should’ve warned you, I suppose.” He laughs again.

  I look down to the small pile of my own vomit and hope we arrive in Antius before the smell of it ticks everybody off. Or worse, it might make them sick, too.

  I catch myself looking back and forth from person to person and realize I’m liable to draw attention. They’re going to know something’s not right, so I force myself to lean back and close my eyes like I had on the way here--act as naturally as I can.

  “Do we all have to speak in the debriefing?” I hear Sean ask.

  “You have nothing to worry about, soldier.” Wilson gives an encouraging nod.

  “No one will have to say anything,” Jacob says, pointing to the chip in his neck. “We’ll see for ourselves.”

  That’s it. We’re checking in when we get back, and I’m a goner. They’re going to know I tried to run, that I didn’t shoot anybody, and that I left the key for that kid.

  How far back will they go? Just today?

  What if they go back far enough to see Titus with me in medical and in the truck in no man’s land? Will they kill him, too? I knew letting him too close was a mistake. And I know as well as I know my name, they’re going to go back as far as they can to find something incriminating in my optical recordings.

  Another detail plays at the edge of my consciousness, but I can’t focus on it. I squeeze my eyes and try to grab hold of it and pull it from the darkness, but it eludes me. What am I forgetting? Fighting so hard to find it, I pull myself farther in until I drift to sleep. Exhaustion and hunger make sure I stay there until we slow down and I hear the familiar screeching of the gates of Antius.

  When the gates are closed behind us, the driver opens the doors and we spill out into chaos. It’s early morning and what looks like the entire colony is in a frenzy on the lawn. They are being corralled into lines that lead to a row of booths. I can’t tell yet what’s happening inside the booths.

  “Line up with the rest of them,” Jacob tells us, and even Wilson looks surprised. We fan out to get in line, most of us looking confused, but I get the sense I’m the only one truly concerned. The rest of them are obedient. All but me.

  I look at all the faces, scanning them. I see soldiers, mothers, caretakers, cleaners, lawn keepers. In one line I see men that get off on the science floor. I realize this is where Dylan should be. I walk toward them eagerly trying to find him, but no one even close to Dylan’s height stands out. I push through a grouping to look at the next line. Don’t see him.

  A group of men shuffle my way and press me toward the front of the lines and I lose my balance, bumping into the base of the platform that the lines lead to. In each booth, I see a citizen with a computer attached to their neck. An operator scrolls through images on a special monitor, flicking them over with their finger tips. They’re moving so fast I don’t know how they can see anything. Whatever they’re looking for must be specific. Either that or their brains process at an inhuman rate, which I doubt.

  “Back of the line, kid,” a man near the front says. I guess they’ve been waiting a while--they all look exhausted.

  I rush to the end of the line and keep looking. A shoulder hits mine hard, and I turn to look at the offender who steps away. Movement catches my eye and I spot Alyssa rushing toward someone--Dylan. They’re still several lines over so I rush to meet them. Before I’m close enough to call out to them, Alyssa throws her arms around Dylan and he pulls away from her and appears to scold her. His eyes dart around, probably hoping no one saw the contact.

  But I saw it, and my chip recorded it.

  I stop in my tracks staring at nothing as the lost memory finally returns to me. In medical that night after Twig was killed, I ran after Titus and Dylan stopped me. He told me about the chip and what it could do. He warned me, and told me not to look at him.

  I remember heading back to my room, but I looked around first to see if anyone was near. I know I went straight back just like I was supposed to. A ton of bricks hits me in the stomach as I realize when I looked both ways up and down the hall, I caught Dylan in my peripheral vision.

  I look away from Dylan and Alyssa immediately, not wanting any further evidence against them. They are about to scan my memory and find out that Dylan has been places he’s not authorized to be, that he’s manipulated his clearances, and that he’s physically touched two of Antius’s girls without a mating sanction. He’s just as guilty as I am. And Alyssa. And Titus.

  “Cori.” Dylan is suddenly right beside me.

  “What’s happening?”

  “It was supposed to be the first of a routine scanning procedure. Looking for suspicious activity. But there was a security breach after it was announced, and they haven’t found the source.”

  A moment passes while it all soaks in. Who would breach security? I didn’t think many of us had anything to hide.

  “Cori.” Alyssa stares at me. I realize I haven’t responded and my mouth is hanging open.

  “We have to go. We have to go now,” I tell them.

  “What are you talking about? Go where?” Alyssa whimpers, worry now consuming her. She’s never seen me this unraveled.

  I look Dylan in the eyes. “I’ve seen too much. They’ll kill all three of us.”

  “Dylan?” Alyssa asks, looking to him for a reply that makes sense to her. His eyes don’t leave mine.

  “She’s right. We have to go.”

  “How?” Alyssa whispers.

  I look over my shoulder at the truck we just rode in on, and it’s still loaded up and the doors hang wide open. I have no idea how to drive.

  “Follow me,” I tell them.

  I look to my left at the line beside us, one line cl
oser to the truck. I sidestep to the back of the line, and Dylan and Alyssa follow. I fold my hands in front of me and try to blend in. I hope they are doing the same. When my line steps forward, I sidestep again joining the next line, cutting a few people off. They grumble so we move again, making sure to go to the back of the next line.

  I spot Jacob making his way onto the platform and looking over the shoulder of the first operator. He looks up and scans the lines until he lands on me. He’s ready to see what I’ve seen. I risk a slight turn toward Dylan, trying to look nonchalant.

  I whisper, “You two get in the cab of that truck. I’ll catch up.”

  “No, we’re not splitting up.” Dylan’s voice is a low growl.

  “I’m being watched, we have to.” I meet his eyes and pray he can see how serious I am. The tension in his jaw reminds me that he doesn’t like being out of control any more than I do. “Please,” I plead with him.

  The two of them shift into the next line, and I glance at them to make sure they aren’t touching. If I get them out of here safely, they can touch all they want, but now’s not the time.

  Jacob’s gaze is still locked on me. What am I going to do if he never looks away? Or worse, if Nathan shows up. Where is Nathan?

  I glance around and spot Ginny holding a little one. They’re next in line at the first station. She locks eyes with me and gives me a nod that seems to be meant as assurance. I don’t understand. Her face is so grave, I can’t help but assume there’s a severe meaning.

  I watch as she climbs the steps onto the platform and then something unbelievable and utterly confusing happens. She pinches the toddler on the back of his bare arm and he instantly begins to scream and kick his legs. His foot hits the scan operator in the head, and the operator stands to confront Ginny.

  Jacob and everybody else who seems at all “in charge” out here turn to the disturbance and most of them head that direction as it seems to have turned into a scuffle between Ginny--toddler still in tow--and the technician.

  I take the opportunity since no one seems to be watching. I grab Dylan and Alyssa by the arms and push them toward the truck. “Run!”

  The three of us take off and I open the driver door of the cab and let the two of them crawl in before I climb up behind them. I pull the door closed and try to find the keys, hoping the driver left them in the cab. I check the ignition, the visor, the cup holder. I can’t find them. How did I not consider this flaw in my plan?

  Two hands slam into my door, and I jump, grabbing the door handle to hold it closed. I look to see who’s caught us and am blindsided to find it’s Titus. He looks desperate. I’m so stunned, I let him open the door. I see the driver from our convoy knocked out on the ground behind him. Titus jingles the keys at me. “Slide over.”

  I don’t hesitate to let him in. He cranks the engine and revs the gas, which I notice is on the right. The left must be the brake. He scans his finger on the control panel and punches a series of keys. He looks at the gate, but nothing happens. He curses under his breath. “It’s locked down. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re the breach,” Dylan accuses Titus.

  Titus nods. “You’re going to have to do it yourself,” he tells me looking intensely into my eyes. “P means park, D means drive, R means reverse. Don’t use N. My code is 6698745.”

  “Okay,” I say, with a tremble growing from within and appearing as a quiver in my bottom lip.

  Titus kisses me on the forehead and jumps out of the cab leaving the door hanging open. People just can’t seem to stop touching me, but my heart still hurts watching him go. I slide into the driver seat.

  Titus runs to the manual control panel on the gate and punches his codes. The gate begins to open and I shout to him, hoping he can make it with us after all. His eyes meet mine but he’s frozen still. He mouths “go” and I finally notice the blood splotch on his chest.

  I vaguely hear myself screaming as Dylan reaches across me and pulls the door shut. I try to pull the truck into drive but I can’t move the lever. I push the brake and try again, and it shifts. I hit the gas and fly through the gate as a soldier tries to close it, but we make it through. In the side mirror I see a handful of soldiers chasing us, but they fall behind.

  We travel through the wide open space, and more than halfway through I see a truck approaching us from the perimeter. In the cab, a shocked Nathan pulls a weapon at the last second and he fires a shot right before we pass them--but he misses me. We’re almost to the border.

  I reach up and punch in Titus’s code, 6698745. Another car comes through the portal on the right of a pole so I have no choice but go left. And I hope it works.

  Bullets hit the truck from all around, probably from the towers. I yell as I drive through the opening, unscathed.

  “Get down.” I glance over at Dylan whose hand is covered in blood and pressed against Alyssa’s neck. My heart sinks. That shot was meant for me.

  Not long after the perimeter, we enter the woods which get dense really quickly and the truck slams into a tree.

  “Can you carry her?” I ask, desperately.

  “She’s gone,” Dylan says, fighting back tears. I kiss Alyssa’s hand and jump out of the cab hoping Dylan will follow. I run deeper and deeper into the woods and hear Dylan’s heavy footsteps close behind.

  Rifles shoot relentlessly in our direction and I hear men barking orders somewhere behind us.

  “We’re not going to make it,” I cry out.

  “Run faster.” Dylan passes me and begins to lead the way, and for a huge guy he’s surprisingly quick on his feet. He jumps bushes and fallen limbs, and dodges trees. He changes direction several times, and I manage to keep up, trying my best to follow his steps exactly.

  We run, duck, dive, dart. I try to count up the hours it’s been since I’ve held food down as I feel the fatigue beginning to overtake the adrenaline. Dylan, however, shows no sign of fatigue, nor emotion. He’s a machine.

  I focus on Dylan’s feet, which begin to slow some time later. “We can’t stop,” I breathe out.

  “That way,” he points the other direction and I take the lead, having no idea what he saw that made him want to change course. I see a break in the trees up ahead and run full speed toward it.

  “Woah, woah,” Dylan says, and he grabs my shoulder. He looks cautiously at the clearing, which I realize is a street. We look both ways and see nothing. I squint to see into the woods on the other side of it, and it looks clear. “Okay.”

  I take a tentative step toward the street, and hear a click beneath my foot. “Stop,” Dylan hisses, too late, as I retract my leg.

  A piece of metal flies out of the ground and spins in the air, a blue laser spinning with it. The laser stops on my chest and the chunk splits in half, the larger piece flying at me and what’s left falling to the ground.

  When the device slams into my torso, I feel my skin breaking as the device attaches itself, then an acidic, burning sensation pipes in and blurs my vision.

  I sway under the chemically induced weight and sense the pavement getting close to my face. Dylan’s arms catch me before the blackness takes me under.

  Chapter Ten

  The air is heavy. My clothes and hair are damp. The ache in my head is so strong, my temples throb, and there’s pressure behind my eyes. A shiver is settled in my ribcage and feels like it’s been there a while. A warm hand rubs my arm, and my eyes pop open. What at first is a blur becomes Dylan’s face directly in front of mine. My senses slowly come back and I realize his arms are wrapped around me. Mere inches separate us, and we’re lying down...together.

  I shy away but bump into something. I put my hand on his chest to push him from me, but he doesn’t budge. I’m constricted--there’s no room to move.

  “Shh,” he whispers as he tries to restrain me. He’s pure strength, yet he doesn’t hurt me.

  I reach all around and there’s nothing but walls, boundaries. I tremble harder now. There’s only a faint light so I can’t make out wh
ere we are. My hand returns to Dylan’s bare chest. “Where’s your shirt?” I ask, trying to keep myself calm.

  “Shh,” he whispers again. “We’re okay. We have to keep quiet.”

  I’m still shaking. “Where are we?”

  He looks around. “A hollowed-out tree.”

  I reach behind me and drag my fingers across the rough wood. I close my eyes to keep from feeling claustrophobic. As I focus on the pitter-patter of rain outside our hiding place, I breathe in and out, forcing myself into a rhythm. As the rain slows, I open my eyes again.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Where’s your shirt?” I ask, again catching myself with my hand on his chest, mostly to maintain the distance between us. His skin is smooth and his muscle tone remarkable. I can’t help but admire his physique. I’ve never seen an undressed male up close. And I’ve certainly never touched one.

  “You’re wearing it.”

  “What?” I look down and confirm his statement. “Where’s my shirt?” I ask, suddenly feeling a deep blush coming on.

  “I had to get the bot off you.”

  My hand darts to my chest, feeling for the machine. Waking up like this with Dylan in my face, I’d forgotten all about it. “Where is it? What happened?” I ask, a little panicky.

  “I removed and deactivated it. I had to get the shirt off to check out the puncture wounds. They’re not too deep.”

  He took off my shirt.

  Insecurity as I’ve never known it sweeps over me and my cheeks burn red. I can’t tell if the pain in my chest is from anxiety or from the wounds.

  Then something dawns on me. I touch my chest again, beyond relieved when I feel the stupid bra still there. He didn’t see anything. If I ever see Ginny again, I’ll have to thank her.

  But I’ll never see Ginny again. I’ll never see a lot of people again. A cold pain pricks my heart for Alyssa and Titus. I can’t seem to focus on which one I’m more distraught over, not that choosing would make things easier. Two more notches in my belt--the death toll.

  “They’re gone because of me. I got them killed,” I mumble. “Twig, too.” The three are proof that I shouldn’t let people close.