The Lost City: The Palumbra Chronicles: Book Two

by L. D. Fairchild

  "What have we here?" the man said when he reached them. "Who goes into the desert carrying a computer?"

  No one said anything. "Still nothing to say, huh?" He pressed a few keys then drew his brows together and frowned. He called another young man to his side. "Bradley, you're the computer whiz. Can you get in this thing?"

  Maeve hid a smile. Unless that kid was a genius, there was no way he was getting into Emery's computer. She had no idea what all Emery had on her computer, but she was sure it would identify them as being from Palumbra.

  "No problem, Sarge." His voice oozed confidence. Bradley took the computer from Sarge and sat cross-legged on the ground. His fingers flew over the keys. Every so often he would pause and frown, then his fingers would once again tap out a new command. After a few minutes, the pauses and frowns became more frequent, and sweat began to bead on his forehead. Sarge watched him closely and impatiently, tapping his foot on the ground in an ever-increasing tempo. Finally, Bradley shook his head, took his hands off the keyboard and leaned back.

  "I can't do it, Sarge. I don't know what kind of security they have on this thing, but it's too good for the likes of me." He set his palms on the ground next to him and braced his shoulders as if waiting for an explosion.

  "What do you mean you can't do it?" Sarge bellowed. "I thought you were the best. That's why I picked you."

  Bradley slowly stood to his feet and held out the computer to Sarge. "I am the best, but there can always be someone better − just not someone better in Bellus."

  Bradley stood there with the computer stretched out in front of him as he waited for his words to sink in. Maeve cringed when Sarge's eyes widened, and he grabbed the computer from Bradley.

  "Whose computer is this?" he said in a deceptively quiet voice. Maeve could see his hands shaking with rage.

  No one spoke.

  "Fine," Sarge said in a calm voice. "Shoot the blond one."

  Shalara shrank back in fear at the same time Emery screamed "Nooo!" and threw herself in front of Shalara. "It's mine," she sobbed. "It's mine."

  "Emery, no," cried Ginger, stepping in front of her sister and Shalara as three of the Bellus survivors raised their guns to shoot.

  Sarge waved at the men and women to lower their guns and stepped around the fire until he was nose to nose with Ginger. "Get out of the way."

  "No." Ginger shook her head defiantly. "You're not getting near her as long as I'm here."

  Sarge raised his hand and lifted a single finger. Two of the Bellus survivors, a man and a woman appeared from behind Ginger and grabbed her by the arms, physically lifting her out of the way. Ginger kicked and yelled, and Tristan lunged toward the man holding Ginger's arm. The man raised his gun to Ginger's head, and Tristan froze.

  Maeve and Gray stepped forward to intervene between Sarge and Emery, but the same young woman who had collected their guns quietly stepped between them, pointing her gun at Maeve. Sarge grabbed Emery by the arm and hauled her to the other side of the fire.

  Sarge handed Emery the computer. "Open it up," he said. "And do it quickly. I can still have your friends shot."

  Emery rubbed her arm where Sarge had drug her along, then nodded. She took the computer and dropped to the ground. With a few keystrokes, she handed it back to him and hung her head.

  Sarge looked at the screen, then looked up at the rest of them. "Well, this is interesting."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Maeve chewed her lip. She had no idea what was on Emery's computer, but she knew there were any number of things that could identify them as being from Palumbra. She didn't think that would go over well with this crowd.

  "What is it, Sarge?" Bradley asked, peering over Sarge's shoulder. The other two Bellus survivors near them kept their guns trained on Maeve and her friends. Maeve tried to catch Gray's eye, but he was staring intently at Sarge. The man and woman who had been holding Ginger had released her arms but stood with their rifles pointed at her back. Tristan stood as close to Emery and Shalara as he could, but Maeve knew they were trapped.

  "Looks like we found ourselves some more friends from Palumbra," he said in a mocking voice with a sneering emphasis on the word friends. He looked pointedly at Elton. "Thought you said you were from Bellus?"

  "I am. I am." Elton rose to his feet but stopped when all guns shifted to him. He held up his hands. "My sister and I fled from the plague, just like you. She hurt her ankle, and these guys were the only people around." He gestured toward Maeve's group. "We only just met them."

  "Those two seem pretty close to have just met." Sarge pointed his finger at Emery and Shalara who were holding each others' hands tightly as they sat next to the fire with Tristan and Gray hovering over them.

  Elton gave a small chuckle. "You know how it is with kids." Maeve raised her eyebrows, knowing that Elton was only a few years older than those "kids." "They form friendships with anyone their own age, especially if there's no one else their age around."

  Sarge looked skeptical. Maeve thought he might be remembering how Emery had thrown herself in front of Shalara when he gave the order to shoot her. Sarge turned to Maeve.

  "We haven't seen anyone from Palumbra in decades, and now we run into two groups of you in one day? Am I supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"

  Maeve studied the ground trying to decide how to respond. Gray gave a slight shake of his head, which went unnoticed by everyone but her. She straightened her shoulders and raised her gaze to Sarge's, then shrugged. "We wanted an adventure. We knew the government patrol had found people, and we wanted to know who they were. We'd heard rumors that we weren't the only people left after the wars of The Lost Years." She gave Sarge her best grin. "We thought you might be interesting."

  Sarge studied her thoughtfully. "Give me one good reason not to kill you like we did the others from Palumbra."

  "We're just kids?" Maeve said hopefully.

  "That one won't fly," Sarge said as he took a step toward her. Despite her height advantage, Maeve still felt intimidated. Sarge might be shorter than her, but he was definitely still stronger. She felt Gray stiffen beside her as Sarge took another slow step in her direction. "Try again."

  "We mean you no harm?" she said as she fought to keep her feet still.

  Sarge took another step. "How would I know you're telling the truth?"

  Maeve thought frantically. Sarge was so close to her now that she could smell his breath, which carried the faint, unpleasant smell of onions. She didn't know what would happen when he reached her, but she did know Gray would intervene. He was like a tightly coiled spring beside her, just waiting to uncoil. Sarge lifted his foot for the final step. "We can show you the caves," Maeve blurted.

  Sarge slowly set his foot back down in the sand. "Why would I want to go there? Isn't that where the other group wanted to take us?" The muscles in his legs moved as if he was readying himself to lunge at Maeve.

  "But we know about places they don't," Maeve said quickly. "We explored them a couple months ago. Your group could take shelter there until you figure out what you want to do."

  Sarge stretched his lips into a grin that looked more like a sneer. "Oh, we know what we want to do. We just need a place to do it from."

  Maeve waited as Sarge seemed to consider what she offered.

  "Why do I need more than one of you?" His eyes held hers. "Why should I keep all of them alive."

  "Because I won't take you to the caves unless you do." Her voice trembled slightly. "Our safety in exchange for us leading you to the caves."

  Sarge stared at her as if trying to decide if she was bluffing. Finally, he nodded. "OK. Tomorrow you show us the caves."

  Maeve blew out the breath she had been holding, and she heard Gray do the same.

  Sarge grinned at her. "I can always kill you later," he said and walked away.

  ###

  "What were you thinking?" Gray asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Their captors had taken over their spot by the fire, and
Maeve's group was now gathered underneath a tree outside the ring of firelight. Three of the Bellus survivors stood guard.

  "I was thinking I didn't want him to kill us," Maeve retorted. "Did you have a better idea?"

  Gray shook his head. "We can't take them to the caves. We don't know if they carry the disease, and I didn't like the way Sarge talked about knowing what they want to do. We can't let them get that close to Palumbra."

  "But what if we do lead them to the caves?" Tristan broke into their whispered conversation. "It gets us that much closer to Palumbra, and maybe we can get some help."

  Ginger scooted over to join them. "Guys," she whispered, "we have a bigger problem."

  "What could be a bigger problem?" Maeve asked.

  "I think Shalara is sick."

  They lifted their heads and looked to where Shalara was lying on her side, sleeping. In the quiet of the night, Maeve could hear a rattle in her breathing. She raised scared eyes to Ginger. "When did you notice it?"

  "When she laid down to sleep. She had been coughing earlier, but I just thought it was the dust from the desert. But you can hear a definite wheezing when she breathes now. Her face is pretty flushed, too, but it shouldn't be now that we're away from the fire."

  Ginger's gaze strayed to where Emery lay mere feet from Shalara, remembering how Shalara had been draped over Emery while Maeve and Gray set her ankle. "What do we do?" Ginger whispered anxiously. "What if Emery gets it?"

  "She might not be sick, Ginger," Maeve said soothingly. "She could just be in pain from her ankle, and if she has an infection from her ankle, that could cause her to run a fever. Let's just keep an eye on her − and try to keep her and Emery apart."

  "Why do you want to keep her and Emery apart?" Elton said from behind Maeve. Maeve jumped, startled by Elton's sudden appearance. She tried to mask the fear and concern on her face. Elton's eyes traveled from face to face, then diverted to where Shalara lay. "You think she's sick, don't you?"

  Gray looked at the ground. Tristan picked at some dirt under his thumbnail. Ginger undid her ponytail and focused intently on retying her hair. Maeve chewed the side of her thumbnail and finally looked into Elton's scared eyes. "We're not sure. Her ankle could just be giving her trouble."

  "You might know better than us," Gray said. "You've seen this before. What are the symptoms of this plague?"

  Elton started to speak, then shook his head, his eyes straying to where their guards had taken interest in their discussion. "Not now."

  "Hey," a female guard shouted as she took a step toward them. "Everyone spread out. No talking."

  Elton returned to his place next to his sister, but Maeve noted he left a good distance between them. Tristan and Ginger scooted closer to Emery, leaving Maeve and Gray to lean against the tree. Gray said nothing but took Maeve's hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand and wrist. "What are we going to do?" She whispered in a voice so quiet Gray had to lean toward her to hear it. He opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a mighty roar.

  The three Bellus survivors guarding the group whirled around to face the sound, their heads whipping back and forth, looking for the source. The roar sounded again. Maeve and the others jumped to their feet, and Emery huddled into Ginger's side. Elton helped Shalara balance on her good foot, but Maeve could see her sway unsteadily. A commotion ensued around the fire, and Sarge's voice bellowed, "Where is it? Take defensive positions! Shane, do you have any of the poison darts left?"

  The sound roared again, and this time Maeve knew exactly what it was. "Plagoran," she said almost to herself.

  "Get ready," Gray said as he took her hand and pulled her toward the tree they had been sitting against.

  "Ready for what?"

  "To run. This is our chance to escape."

  "Where are we going to go? We don't have any supplies, and it's desert for miles out there."

  Tristan jogged over to them followed by Ginger and Emery. "What have we got?"

  Gray motioned to where a canteen lay on the ground, dropped by one of the guards in their hurry to confront the plagoran. Emery swooped in and gathered it up.

  "Do we have any weapons?" Tristan asked. "We can't head out into that without some kind of protection."

  Gray and Ginger scanned the ground as if hoping the guards had also carelessly dropped a weapon of some kind. Maeve reached up her sleeve and pulled out her knife.

  "Way to go, Maeve." Gray pulled her in for a hard, quick hug and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

  "That's not going to be much defense against one of those beasts," Tristan said. "But it's better than trying to take it on in a fistfight."

  "What do we do about them?" Ginger asked, pointing at Elton and Shalara who were slowly and painstakingly making their way toward the group. Shalara leaned heavily on Elton and moved forward with a kind of shuffling hop, every step making her wince with pain.

  "We can't leave them here," Emery said decisively.

  "Em," Ginger said calmly. "They'll slow us down. We'll never get away."

  Emery folded her legs and sank cross-legged to the ground. "Then we'll just have to stay. I'm not leaving Shalara here."

  Ginger looked helplessly from Emery to Shalara. Maeve knew from experience that Emery's stubborn streak meant they would have to carry her kicking and screaming from the camp, which would undermine their chances of getting away more than Shalara's slow progress.

  "Em," Ginger tried once more. "We can't stay, and Shalara can't move fast enough. We..." She broke off and looked behind her, scanning the few trees around them and the dark desert beyond.

  "What is it?" Tristan asked, but Ginger held up her hand for silence. Maeve could hear nothing except the commotion around them and the ever-closer roar of the plagoran.

  "There's something out there."

  "Yeah," Tristan replied. "A large reptile that wants to eat us."

  "No," Ginger said, shaking her head. "Something else."

  Elton and Shalara had reached the group, and Maeve noted Shalara's hands were shaking uncontrollably. She struggled to remain on her feet, and Maeve had no idea how they could take her with them and escape. "What are we going to do?" Elton asked. "They seem pretty distracted." He motioned to the guards who were now all grouped on one side of the oasis, leaving the area next to the trees unguarded. In the furor over the approaching plagoran, they seemed to have forgotten their prisoners.

  "If we're going to go, we have to go now," Gray said as he hefted Maeve's knife in his hand and handed her the canteen. He nodded to Tristan. "You'll have to help them," he said with a glance toward Shalara and Elton.

  "I'll help, too," Emery said, climbing to her feet once again.

  "You'll stay with me and do what you're told," Ginger said. Emery shot Ginger a defiant glance but remained at her side.

  Gray held up a hand for quiet and motioned that they should follow him. Ginger and Emery stepped into the space behind Gray, followed by Elton, Tristan and Shalara. Maeve brought up the rear. They hadn't gone more than 500 feet, when Gray abruptly stopped. The plagoran's roar sounded once again from off to their left. Maeve couldn't see Gray, but she could hear the murmur of his voice and another voice she didn't recognize.

  "Maeve." Tristan turned to her and said quietly, "Gray wants you up there."

  Fuming with the thought that Gray was being overprotective and not thinking through the need for one of them to cover the rear with injured people between them, Maeve made her way to the front of the group.

  Gray's ice blue eyes met hers, and he gave her a quick grin. "There's someone here who wants to see you."

  Maeve frowned, thinking this was a terrible time for jokes, when a young boy stepped out from behind Gray.

  "Hi, Maeve," Thomas said with a little wave.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maeve stood frozen with shock, her mouth hanging open.

  "Hi?" Thomas tried again.

  "Thomas," Maeve exclaimed as sh
e pulled him into a hug. "How did you get here?" She looked around, scanning for other people, other adults. "Are you all by yourself?"

  Thomas shook his head against Maeve's shoulder. "No, I brought Rufus."

  Maeve turned confused eyes to Gray who shrugged his shoulders and mouthed the words, "No idea."

  She stepped back from Thomas and said, "Who's Rufus?"

  Thomas gave a muted clap with his hands, and Maeve heard a thudding sound before it was drowned out by another roar from the plagoran and more shouts from the camp. A large dog the size of a small horse came running up to Thomas. Just when Maeve thought he was going to knock Thomas over, he skidded to a halt, sending sand flying. Thomas laid a hand on the dog's neck and said, "This is Rufus."

  Maeve opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Tristan's urgent voice from behind her said, "We have to move if we're going to get away from here. Save your questions for later."

  "He's right. We have to go," Gray said, moving forward once again. "Thomas, where have you been hiding?"

  Thomas pointed to the south. "Over there. There's a set of dunes that are hard to make out from a distance. There are a few scrubby trees and a small pool of water."

  "Can you take us there?" Maeve asked.

  "Yep," Thomas said. "Follow me."

  Maeve fell in next to Gray, and they followed Thomas across the barren desert, glancing frequently over their shoulders to watch for any of the Bellus survivors, but as the chaos from the camp and the roar of the plagoran grew fainter, it seemed that those left in the camp had their hands full. Maeve wondered if poison darts would do any damage against the scaly armor of the plagoran. While she wasn't a fan of Sarge and the other Bellus survivors, she didn't really want them to be eaten by a monster lizard.

  "How much farther?" Elton's voice came out of the darkness behind them. Without a light, Maeve could barely make out Thomas in front of them and the vague outline of the rest of the group behind them.