The Barriers

by Katie French

  I concentrate on her feet, cinching the rope and knotting it twice though there’s really no point. It’s all for show. When Doc is done, we heft her deadweight into the car. Digging out the satellite phone, I take it out of the case and turn it on. It’s a big, clunky gadget with a long, tube-like antenna. I dial the number Corra made me memorize. She picks up right away.

  “Riley,” she says, breathless, “is everything okay?”

  “You lied to us,” I say through my teeth. “You told us there were two subjects. Now one of our men might be dead.”

  There’s a pause, filled with static, and for a moment, I think the line has gone dead. Finally, Corra’s voice crackles into the handheld. “What do you mean there are three?”

  “Three goddamned subjects. Three goddamned monsters,” I say with my lips pressed to the receiver.

  Another pause. “Riley… are you sure?”

  “They attacked us! They took one of my men, Bran, down into some basement or sewer. You didn’t prepare us for this, Corra. We had one bullet—”

  “You didn’t shoot one of them, did you?” Corra asks.

  I flick a glance at the body in the backseat of our solar car. “No, we didn’t shoot anyone.”

  Doc leans in and stares at me, his eyes wide.

  I look away. “We have one captured. Knocked out. Send backup. Do you hear me, Corra? We need backup.”

  Another long pause. The static aggravates my already-shredded nerves. Finally, “Riley, that’s… that’s not going to be easy.”

  “Send someone or we’ll kill your precious subjects. Tell your group that. Tell Dennis that.”

  “Riley…” Corra’s voice is full of tension. “Dennis has taken your aunt. He says if you don’t complete this mission, he’ll…”

  My heartbeat revs up. “He’ll what?” I practically scream into the phone.

  There’s some scuffling on her end like someone is grabbing the phone away. Dennis’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Riley, nice to hear from you. Your aunt says hi.”

  “Listen to me,” I spit into the speaker. “If anything happens to her—”

  “You’re in no condition to bargain, Riley.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “I’ll kill the subjects.”

  He laughs quietly. “I don’t think so. What would you kill them with?”

  “You took the bullets out of my gun, you sonofabitch.” I pace beside the car, my anger flaring. “When I get back…” What? What will I do? He has all the power.

  “I suggest you start thinking about how you’re going to get us what we need, Riley. You’re a resourceful gal. Your aunt tells me as much. She’s quite the lady. I know you wouldn’t want to lose her.”

  An angry sob is stuck in my throat. The last words choke out. “I’ll get what I came here for, but I swear to God, Dennis, you’re going to pay for this.”

  “Sure, sure,” he says dismissively. “We’ll be watching.”

  His voice dies away and all that’s left is a droning static. I take the phone and chuck it as far as I can. Turning, I kick at the solar car’s tires until my toes ache.

  Doc walks away and comes back with the satellite phone, rubbing it on his pants to clean it. He places it carefully back in the gray foam casing. He doesn’t tell me it was stupid to throw our phone away. He doesn’t tell me my plan was a dismal failure. Sitting down in the dirt beside me, he waits. I watch him trace a finger in the silt, swirling a pattern of spirals that radiate outward.

  I rub my face and then turn to him. “What do we do?”

  He sighs and drops his knee until it touches mine. “We do what we’ve always done—try again until it works.”

  “But what if we killed Subject Eight?” I glance over my shoulder where the body is stinking up the backseat of the car.

  “I got a good look at one of the creatures when they went after Bran. One was definitely smaller than the other.” His knee gently jiggles mine.

  “So we go back down there? With what? The Taser’s pretty much useless, and who knows what we’re heading into.”

  Doc grins slyly. “I got a few things up my sleeve.”

  I turn and face him. “Like what?”

  “Come on,” he says, standing and offering me a hand. “We need to finish before nightfall.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Clay

  Two men tug on my backpack straps as I stand there waiting. The pack must weigh seventy pounds. Hands tighten straps and dig around, securin’ the explosive and the other tools I’m gonna need to break into the undergrounders’ facility and deliver this bomb. “Blow the mother sky high,” as one of Mike’s men said, smilin’. My vision swims a little, but the skull-crushin’ headache I had earlier seems to be tethered for a while. Not sure for how long, or what I’ll do if it comes back. Don’t matter. I got a job to do.

  Cole sits in the dirt a few feet off, diggin’ with a stick, his fist around it like a toddler learnin’ to draw. His eyes are red-rimmed with exhaustion. Twice I saw his head dip low before springin’ up again. He’s run ragged, but he doesn’t whine like most kids gone past their bedtime. Makes me proud. When I finish this, I’m gonna get him the hell outta here.

  He peers up through a curtain of brown bangs. “All right, Clay?”

  I nod. “All right, my man?”

  A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. Tired.”

  “You can go to bed. They just gotta finish givin’ me these last instructions. Then I’ll join you for some shuteye.” The sky’s pink with another dawn. God, have we been out here all night? Mike’s crew has taken me over every inch of the map until my eyes blur. They explained the pipe bomb and how to set it. The wires, timers, and triggers. We went over my escape route and what to do if I’m caught. And on and on and on. I’m dog-tired, and my vision is whirlin’ like a dervish, but I shake it off. I’m sure I’ve been more tired than this.

  “Go to bed, Cole. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He keeps diggin’ with his stick. “I’ll wait for you.”

  I’m too tired to argue.

  Mike walks up with a bodyguard at either elbow. He’s been gone for a few hours, and he looks rested. Maybe he even had a bath. Must be some charmed life owning enough water to bathe in. He nods when he sees I’m wearing the pack, then walks around and inspects it himself.

  “You don’t got a gun for me by chance?” I ask when he walks back around to face me.

  He shakes his head.

  Right. He’s got guns. He just don’t got guns for me.

  I run my thumbs up the pack’s rough straps and level him with a solid gaze. “I could do a lot better with a shootin’ iron. Kinda my specialty.”

  On the ground, Cole nods. “He’s the best shot you’ve ever seen.”

  Mike ignores him, leans close, and whispers in my ear. Even in a whisper, his words come out forced and jagged.

  “Do this… for me, and you’re… one of us. Kill them. Kill those… bastards.” He claps me on the shoulder and stares deep into my eyes.

  I wonder what kind of mess I’ve gotten myself into. “You take care of my brother, and when I get back, we can talk ’bout the future.”

  Mike pats me on the back hard enough to make me take a step forward. I watch him walk away, then leave the pack with his bomb specialists and head to our shack with Cole in tow. As soon as we’re in the door, Cole collapses into a heap in the corner. I lie back, my shoulder blades pressin’ into the dusty floorboards, and stare at the ceiling.

  Sleep should come hard and fast. Hell, I’m run ragged, but wide-awake. The blanket of unrest I’ve felt ever since I got here still smothers me. In a few hours, I’m gonna be crawlin’ through a maze of ductwork with a bomb strapped to my back. I’ll be headin’ into enemy territory with no gun and no idea what I’ll find. This plan sounds like a sack of shit no matter how you slice it.

  What I need to do is remember who the hell I am and what got me here. Only with that info can we be sure I
won’t make the same mistakes. I press my eyes closed and see her face again, that girl, that… Riley. Brown eyes. Full, red lips pressed against the hollow of my neck. Where is she? Why isn’t she here? I rub my palms into my eyes and wish to God my brain would fix itself.

  Beside me, Cole sleeps soundly, the light whistle of his breathing the only thing keepin’ me from barrelin’ out of this room and into the desert. I’ll do the job and come back for him. Then we’ll leave here for good.

  I must doze off because the next thing I know, the scrape of the door latch pulls me out of sleep. The door swings open and several figures block out the orange sunset.

  Mike and Hank shuffle in. Hank looks smug, like he’s been plannin’ something. He waggles his eyebrows at me. Keepin’ my face neutral, I look up at Mike.

  “We good to go?” I ask, standin’ up. Cole sits up, wiping hair out of his eyes.

  Mike nods, pulls Hank over, and talks in his ear.

  “We’ll drive you out,” Hank says, still smilin’ like he knows my dirtiest secrets. “Then you follow the plan and deliver the bomb. Understand?”

  I look over at Mike. “I’ve been thinkin’. I risk my hide for you, and get what? A membership in a gang I ain’t sure I wanna join?”

  Mike puffs out his chest, fillin’ most of the doorway. As his face hardens, I wave my hands to fend off his anger. “I ain’t saying your town is bad. It’s damn cozy. But me and mine got somewhere to be.”

  Still frownin’, Mike makes a grunt of agreement. “So… what?” he manages with his voice made of gravel.

  “So, if I’m gonna do this, I want a better deal. When I get back, I want a truck and fuel.”

  Mike shakes his head. “Only… got one.”

  I narrow my eyes, tryin’ to tell if he’s lyin’, but his face looks sincere. “Then I want a gun and bullets. Don’t tell me you don’t got ’em. You don’t keep a windmill like this to yourself without at least one gun to spare.”

  Mike scowls, but it seems like he’s done arguing with me. “Kill… bastards.”

  When I nod, he stomps down the steps of my shack. Hank turns to follow, but wheels back when Mike is far enough along. “Good luck on your trip,” he says sarcastically.

  I grab the door handle and swing it shut, slammin’ it in his face. He cusses at me through the door, but I don’t give a damn about that. I’m done with Hank. I’m done with this place.

  Cole stands beside me. “Maybe you shouldn’t’ve done that,” he says quietly. “Seems like he’s up to something.”

  I pull on my boots, look at Cole, and give a big sigh. “We’ll be done with this shantytown by tomorrow mornin’. Then you and me are gettin’ the hell out of dodge.”

  “What about Betsy?”

  “Damn,” I say, rubbin’ my chin. “Forgot about her. We’ll figure that out later.” I open the door and motion him out. “Come on. Walk me out. At least somebody will have my back.”

  He shuffles over until his shoulder is touching my hip. “I always got your back.”

  I pull him to me. “I know it.”

  We walk out of the shack and down the steps. Hank’s nowhere to be seen across the dusty landscape. A few of the men let the livestock out of their stalls and into the fenced pens for the night. The rest of the men seem to be gathered near Mike’s shack. Someone has set up the lanterns, throwing a wide circle of light over a vehicle I’ve never seen before. It’s a souped-up monster truck—huge, nubby tires as tall as a man and a bright-blue body with flames licking up the fenders. Four big lights mounted on a rack above the truck’s cab look like yellow smiley faces. The whole thing is ridiculous, a sideshow—, a carny feature like the ones that used to pull into town when I was little. Step right up, folks, and ride the Bigfoot. Only cost you what you got in your pockets. What the hell is Mike tryin’ to pull?

  I walk up to him standin’ in the crowd of men and gesture at the monster. “What you tryin’ to pull? This might as well be a fireworks show.”

  Mike glances at me, but he seems preoccupied in some other discussion. Hank is the one to answer. “It’s our only wheels. This or walk. You wanna hike twenty miles tonight?” He lifts one corner of his too-red lips.

  I ignore him and grab Mike by the arm. He glares at my hand. I let it drop, but I don’t back down. “What is this shit, Mike? Tell me how they ain’t gonna see this.”

  Mike faces me and clears his throat. “They’ll see it. They… won’t see… you.”

  I shoot him a questioning look. Hank rolls his eyes at me. “We drive around in this thing sometimes. They won’t suspect. Besides, their satellites can’t see in the dark.”

  “Whatever,” I say, reachin’ for my bomb pack, but Hank snatches it away. “You can have that after we drop you off.”

  “We?”

  He smiles that shit-for-brains smile.

  “Load it up!” Hank gestures to the men.

  A guard lifts Hank into the passenger seat, and then climbs in the driver’s seat.

  “Is he coming?” Cole asks, flicking glances between Hank and me.

  I don’t like where this is goin’. I grab Cole’s shoulder, turn him around, and whisper in his ear. “Go back to the shack and lock the door. Wait for me there.”

  “But, Clay—”

  “Cole, listen to me.” My head’s poundin’. I press my palms to my temples and try to contain it. “You need to get out of here.”

  “Get the boy in the back,” Hank shouts from his perch above us. “And the hotshot, too.”

  “He stays here.” I try not to sound panicked. I look for Mike. “Mike, my brother stays here!”

  But Mike is gone. Hank, smilin’ down like a demon, waves at the men. “Do as I say.”

  They crowd around me, ten big guys. I can’t fight ’em off without Cole gettin’ hurt. I hold my hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Back off. We’ll go.”

  I pull myself into the open truck bed and draw Cole up, too. Sittin’ down, I settle Cole beside me. Eyes and ears alert, I wait.

  A pair of hands appears at the truck’s tailgate, and then a meaty forearm. Last, a curly, blonde wig. “Push, you idiots!” Betsy tumbles into the truck bed. Pantin’ on her hands and knees, she looks up at us through her crooked wig. “Hi, boys.”

  I shake my head. “Why’d you want to come? This ain’t no place for you.”

  She pouts, but then glances behind me into the truck’s cab. When I turn and look, Hank’s givin’ her the eye through the rear window. She looks down, her face blank. “I wanna come.”

  “Don’t like this a damn bit,” I mumble, pullin’ Cole close.

  When the truck rumbles to life, vibratin’ beneath us, the men circle around it and watch as we pull away. Their faces glow red in the truck’s taillights. Above, the moon is a fingernail diggin’ into the night.

  Cole’s body rocks back and forth against mine as we trundle up a hill and crunch onto what’s left of a road. The shantytown recedes into a cloud of dust. From the distance, the little shacks look like scraps of garbage in a barren wasteland. Only the windmill spinnin’ in the sky marks this place as anything other than a dump.

  Watching the blades spin, I run over my options. My best bet is to jump the driver and take the truck. From where I sit, the back of his bald head looks like a bowling ball with blue-black tattoos peeking out of his collar. If he’s got a weapon, I’ll have to be careful. If he don’t, he’s about to have a very bad day.

  The night darkens as we chug into a town that looks familiar, though I can’t say why. The truck’s two headlights cut a wide yellow path across the road. We drive past abandoned storefronts choking on sand, and a creepy church with the severed heads hanging from her eaves.

  Past the town is barren, flat desert land. The rockin’ of the truck lulls me; I close my eyes just for a second.

  A bump bounces us up, and I open my eyes. Betsy stares at me across the truck bed. She looks awful—wig askew, face sun blistered and flushed, but she’s staring at me like I’m t
he last piece of pie. A glance to the back window shows Hank isn’t watchin’, so I smile at Betsy. “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  She glances at the back of Hank’s head and shifts her eyes down. “Nothing.”

  “It’s okay, Betsy. You can tell me.” I give her a smile.

  She blushes, smilin’ back. But before I can press further, the truck begins to slow. Red taillights flood the desert. I stand up, holdin’ onto the truck’s top rack. In the distance, the road runs down and around a large hill.

  Hank pushes back the truck’s rear window and sticks his ugly mug through. “Hey, shit-for-brains, get out and come get your pack.”

  This is my chance to take on the driver and give Hank a couple of whacks for good measure.

  I squeeze Cole’s shoulder, climb over the tailgate, and jump down. Deep in the desert like this, there’s nothing to orient myself in this sea of brown. The dark isn’t helping, either. Once the truck is gone, all I’ll have is moonlight and my senses. I rub my throbbin’ forehead and tromp around to where Hank leans out the driver’s side door. He hands me the pack, still smilin’ like a snake.

  “The air intake is right over there,” he say, pointing. “Top of the hill.”

  I sling on the pack, glancin’ up the hill’s rise. It’s too damn dark to tell if he’s lyin’. “There’s a light in my pack, right?” Opening it up, I dig around, careful not to jostle the bomb. I find a flashlight that stutters to life when I click it on. Thank God for lithium batteries.

  “What are you waiting for, donkey dick? Get going.” Hank stares down at me.

  “You’ll pick me up when I’m done.” I glance into the truck at the driver. He’s got a goddamned handgun sitting in his lap. Jesus.

  Hank’s gaze follows mine, and a corner of his mouth goes up. “Walk a mile west. We’ll pick you up there. Unless you get your head blown off.”

  Lookin’ into his face, I know he’s lyin’. Even if I manage to pull off this job without getting blown to bits or caught, there’s no way there will be a ride waitin’ for me. If I want to get back to Cole, I’ll have to hike the twenty miles back.

  Hank yanks the truck door shut, nearly takin’ me with it. I step back, anger throbbin’ at my temples. Jesus, my brother. I can’t let these sons of bitches take him.