Girl of Blood: A Science Fiction Dystopian Novel (The Expulsion Project Book 3)

by Norma Hinkens

  I watch in disgust as Parthelon comes into view, striding across the screen with the chieftain’s shramskin flowing behind him and my father’s three-horned headpiece encrusted with augamond stones on his head. He’s deep in conversation with a brawny Mauler wearing a bone through his nose and a scarlet cape draped across his shoulders. As they come closer, they burst into laughter and the Mauler slaps a meaty, tattooed hand on Parthelon’s shoulder, pulling him close to whisper something to him.

  Buir meets my stricken gaze. There can be no doubt now that Parthelon has usurped my father. The clip cuts out without any sign of my parents, heightening the spine-tingling fear inside me that Parthelon has murdered them.

  Furax drains his mug. “Pretty friendly, for a prisoner and his captor. Looks to me like your father is working with the Maulers.”

  My eyes flick a silent warning to Buir. If Furax suspects for a moment that my father is dead, then I will be of no more use in his eyes.

  “My father is not a stupid man,” I say, jerking my chin up defiantly. “He’ll do what needs to be done to spare the lives of his people.”

  Furax reaches over and wraps a lock of my hair around his fingers. “And what of his daughter’s life?”

  I flinch at the veiled threat. “He values my life above all others,” I say in a husky whisper.

  Furax gives a satisfied nod. He leans closer until his hot breath brushes my cheek and whispers. “Good, it would be a shame to gift your body to Cryogenics and waste that red mane of yours.”

  I jerk back and glare at him. “Your threats don’t scare me. You need me and you know it.”

  Furax gets to his feet, his chair screeching backward. I wait for him to storm off, but instead, he grabs Buir by the hair and twists her silver strands viciously in his fist.

  “I may need you,” he hisses in my face, “but your friends are expendable.”

  14

  “Take your hands off her!” I scream.

  Ghil leaps to his feet and lunges for Furax, but before he can make contact, Rigs stuns him with an ElektroProd. Ghil collapses to the floor, his muscles twitching helplessly as the pulse arcs through him. When he’s flat on the ground, Rigs lifts his boot and kicks him in the kidney for good measure.

  I turn my attention back to Buir in time to see her biting down hard on Furax’s hand. He releases her hair, howling, and clutches his bleeding hand to his chest. Buir flings herself to the floor at Ghil’s side and cradles his head in her arms. She barely has time to plant a kiss on his forehead before Rigs and his men haul her and Ghil across the room, arms pinned behind them. Several other body poachers restrain Velkan and me, and shove us toward the door.

  Furax scowls at Buir while another poacher wraps his injured hand in a cloth. “This is what I get for doing business with savages.”

  “The only savage here is you,” I retort, struggling in vain with my captors. “If you want my cooperation on Cwelt, keep your hands off us.”

  Furax pounds the table with his uninjured fist and turns to Rigs. “Lock them back up and stock the Dreadnought with a month’s supplies. The other ships are on their way. We leave for Cwelt as soon as they arrive.” He gets to his feet, a calculating look in his chilling eyes. “It’s time we sent a clear message to the Maulers as to who really controls the territories in the Netherscape.”

  Rigs and his men haul us back down the tunnel to our cell. They don’t waste the opportunity to rough up Ghil some more before tossing him back in with the rest of us. He groans and rolls to one side, clutching his bruised ribs. His right cheekbone is red and swollen, but I’m thankful he’s not bleeding. If things go wrong during our escape attempt and we are forced to flee down the mountain, the last thing we want to do is attract a swarm of bloodsuckers. Buir helps Ghil into a sitting position. He presses his fingers gingerly to his head before turning to look at her.

  “Are you okay?” he asks in a rasping voice.

  “I’m fine, I’m worried about you. You might have a broken rib.”

  He gives her a rueful grin. “Trust me, a broken rib hurts way more than this.”

  “I’ll try and reach Phin and Ayma,” I say. “We need to bring them up to speed.” I activate my MicroComm and exhale in relief when the link connects. “The scout shuttle just returned,” I say. “Furax is assembling an army of body poachers to go up against the Maulers. He’s planning to leave for Cwelt as soon as the other ships arrive.”

  “Good news on our end,” Ayma replies. “Phin tipped off the Syndicate with a description of the Zebulux and gave them Razaran’s coordinates.”

  “How long until the fleet arrives?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. The Chancery will have to authorize the raid, and after that, they’ll mobilize the fleet.”

  I pace across the cell. “What if Furax leaves for Cwelt before the Syndicate fleet gets here?”

  “Nothing I can do to speed up the mobilization,” Ayma says. “If the fleet arrives too late, they’ll have to intercept the body poachers en route to Cwelt.”

  Neither of us speak for a moment. The chances of that encounter going well are slim to none. It’s highly likely we’d be killed in the assault, along with the body poachers, and there’s nothing Ayma and Phin will be able to do to rescue us in the heat of an orbital battle between the Syndicate and the body poachers.

  “The bottom line is, we can’t leave here on Furax’s ship,” I say. “Let us know as soon as you spot the first vessels approaching Razaran, body poachers or Syndicate ships. We’ll escape from our cell and make our way around to the other side of the mountain to wait for you.”

  “The landing area I found is only big enough to send a small shuttle down to,” Ayma says. “No cloaking technology on it so you’ll have to move quickly before you’re spotted.”

  “Understood.” I disconnect the link and sink back against the cell wall. “Let’s hope for our sakes the Syndicate fleet is first on the scene. It will be easier to escape if the body poachers are preoccupied.”

  “Can you walk, Ghil?” Buir asks.

  “I’ll run if I have to,” he groans, pulling himself up.

  Before he gets to his feet, Phin’s voice comes back over the MicroComm. “Body poachers’ ships approaching from the east. Dozens of them.”

  “Copy that,” I say. “We’ll see you on the mountain.”

  “Wait!” he says. “The Syndicate fleet is on their tail.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. So, the battle will take place at Razaran after all. It’s the perfect distraction we need. The body poachers aren’t going to be focusing on us when their entire operation is under threat. “We’ll be at the coordinates you gave us within the hour,” I say.

  “Good luck to The Four,” Phin says gravely.

  My MicroComm goes dead and for one elongated moment, panic threatens to overwhelm me until I force myself to rise above it. This escape attempt may cost us our lives, but I won’t sit by and let Parthelon destroy Cwelt. My people need me. I must have the courage to become who I am destined to be. I turn to the others and inhale a sharp breath. “The body poachers are on their way and the Syndicate is behind them. Prepare for war.”

  Ghil grunts. “About time someone blew the top off this mountain of doom.”

  We startle at the sound of heavy boots echoing off the tunnel walls, running in our direction.

  “Do you think they’re coming for us?” Buir asks.

  Ghil grimaces and fingers the gun at his waist. “Be ready for anything.”

  I flick open the switchblade I found under the bunk. Velkan grips the pipe he has concealed under his jacket.

  Sweat breaks out along the nape of my neck as the footsteps pound ever closer. Three body poachers wielding plasma guns come into view, but they don’t even give us a passing glance. They race past our cell and continue down the tunnel. A moment later the whirring of the LevTram reaches our ears.

  “Get the key!” I yell to Buir.

  She scrabbles between the grout on the back wa
ll of the cell and tosses me the key. I glance down the tunnel one last time in both directions before unlocking the cell door. We slip out and make our way back down the tunnel to the elevachute, treading as lightly as possible for fleeing prisoners.

  “I need a knife to jimmy the elevachute doors,” Velkan whispers.

  “Here.” I offer him my switchblade.

  “Not strong enough.” He takes the knife Ghil pulls from his boot, wedges it between the elevachute doors and eases them apart revealing a dark shaft. “Climb down on top of the elevachute.”

  One-by-one, we descend the iron ladder secured to the shaft wall and huddle together on the steel roof of the elevachute, the glow of the maintenance light lending the filthy walls a ghoulish yellow pallor. Velkan hunches over an electrical box, Ghil’s knife in hand.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Splicing together some cables on the main power-supply conductor to get this thing moving.” Sweat beads on his forehead as he works. I’m thankful again for his mechanical wizardry, which has saved us more than once.

  I glance up at the miles of galvanized conduit shooting skyward to freedom. The heat inside the shaft is oppressive. If Velkan can’t get the elevachute working, we won’t survive in here long enough to climb all the way out.

  “Got it!” He announces triumphantly. “Hold on tight!”

  The elevachute whines into action and begins a frighteningly noisy ascent that picks up to a death-defying speed as we hurtle toward the surface. We cling to one another, and whatever handholds we can find on the roof, for what seems like an eternity before the elevachute shudders to a stop. We let out a collective gasp of relief, still clinging to each other with whitened knuckles. Velkan points to a maintenance ladder riveted to the rock at eye level. “That way. We can sneak out unseen. That’s the emergency access.”

  Velkan climbs onto the ladder first, and we pull ourselves up the iron rungs after him and crawl into the maintenance tunnel. In the darkness, I see the glint of Ghil’s knife ahead of me and I take a steadying breath. We need to be prepared to kill if we have to. If we’re discovered fleeing to the other side of the mountain, the body poachers won’t hesitate to execute us. Furax might have guessed by now that the Syndicate is here for us.

  I duck and follow the others along the narrow maintenance tunnel until I make out a shaft of iron-gray daylight up ahead. My heartbeat picks up pace when we reach the opening and squat down behind Velkan to assess the chaos outside. The throb of engines and the howl of limping thrusters desperately routing power fills our ears as the sky explodes everywhere around us, high-powered plasma guns blasting the mountain. Presumably, the Dreadnought and the Zebulux are both airborne and engaged in the battle, but it’s impossible to be sure. Smoke fills the air and the staccato sound of auto cannon drowns out our ability to talk.

  “There’s a body poacher hiding behind a boulder in front of the tunnel exit,” Velkan yells back to us. “We’re going to have to take him out.”

  Ghil crawls forward on his belly to the edge of the tunnel and peers down at the guard. He puts his finger to his lips, pulls himself into a crouch, and drops silently onto him. The man’s head snaps back under Ghil’s blindingly fast punch. A moment later, I hear a short whistle and Ghil signals to us that it’s safe. We jump down into the rocks after him, and survey the scene. The body poacher lies crumpled a few feet away, his head at an awkward angle. I avert my eyes, reminding myself that he took the heads of innocent people for a living.

  We hunker down behind the boulders, concealed from view by anyone entering or exiting the main tunnel to the elevachute. Velkan crawls across and retrieves the body poacher’s gun.

  “It’s jammed,” he says when he returns, his voice laced with frustration.

  “We still have my gun,” Ghil says. “Let’s move out.”

  We begin skirting along behind the boulders to the far end of the rocky landing pad. Only a small open stretch of space separates us now from a large outcropping that winds around to the back of the mountain. A gnawing wind sweeps across the rubble of the landing pad as the battle continues to rage overhead, bullets ripping into the underbellies of ships that plunge recklessly close to the mountain.

  I nudge Velkan when three body poachers suddenly sprint across the other side of the landing pad. They split up and squat in the shadows behind a row of barrels, out of sight of the attacking ships. If we make a break from cover now, any one of them might turn around and see us. But if we wait too long, we might miss the shuttle and lose our chance to escape.

  I signal my intent to make a move to the others. Cautiously, I rise from a crouching position and bolt east, ducking as best I can, hoping the smoke is enough to screen me until I reach the outcropping. The poachers won’t be able to hear my footsteps over the din, so unless they turn their attention from the battle overhead, it’s unlikely they will spot me.

  Once I’m safely behind the outcropping, Velkan follows suit, then Buir. We huddle together, holding our breath, and watch as Ghil gets to his feet, peering tentatively around before breaking into a hobbling run. He’s almost halfway to us when a volley of bullets ricochets across the landing pad, forcing him to dive back behind the boulders for cover.

  I clench my fists and squint through the smoke. One of the body poachers has caught a glimpse of him. He trains a gun on the boulder Ghil disappeared behind. “One of them has Ghil in his sights,” I say to Velkan. “Where’s that knife he gave you?”

  Velkan doesn’t hesitate. “You got this.” He looks square into my eyes as he places Ghil’s knife in the palm of my hand.

  I wait for a moment to slow my breathing and then stand and take aim. The knife flies straight and true and buries itself in the body poacher’s shoulder. He screams, staggers a few steps backward and topples to the ground. Ghil scrambles up and runs toward us, flinging himself headlong behind the outcropping that shields us from view. The commotion attracts the attention of the other body poachers. They direct their guns our way and fire, shattering a nearby rock. “We’ve got to move,” Ghil says through gritted teeth as he returns fire.

  Velkan works furiously to force the jammed lever on the weapon in his hand forward. “Got it!” he yells. He takes aim and fires at one of the body poachers peering around a barrel. The shot goes wide and the body poacher retreats. Velkan lines up another shot and fires again. A muffled scream reaches our ears through the din of the battle. When the third body poacher sticks his head out a moment later, the plasma gun finds its mark again.

  Ghil lets out a relieved sigh. “Nicely done.”

  Velkan holsters his weapon. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “The one with the knife in his shoulder’s still alive,” Ghil says.

  “He’s bleeding badly, he won’t be a threat,” I say. “We need to go. Ayma and Phin are waiting.”

  Ghil gives a reluctant nod. “If that poacher sends a posse after us, we’re in a vulnerable position with only two guns between us.”

  His words ring in our ears as we take off around the mountain, traversing over the rough boulders, a new momentum in our steps born of desperation. If the body poachers pursue us, we are outgunned and outnumbered, with nowhere left to hide.

  We round the bend to the other side of the mountain, and come to a screeching stop. The trail has taken a direct hit, leaving a gaping hole through to the valley floor thousands of feet below.

  15

  We stare in shock at the remnants of the trail where our path to freedom once lay. A plasma cannon blast has taken out a twelve-foot section, blackening every exposed root in its wake.

  Weighing our options, I rapidly scan all the way down the mountain to the valley floor. Between it and us lies a dense jungle rife with bloodsuckers, and presided over by Razaran’s wildcats—a creature I have no desire to encounter ever again. Going down the mountain is not an option.

  Buir throws me a stricken look. “What are we going to do?”

  I scrutinize the scene in front
of me more carefully as I try to decide what our best move is. For the next twelve feet or so, there’s not much left of the original trail other than a few inches of bare dirt clinging to the side of the mountain. It’s hard to say from here how solid that small ledge will prove to be. If it gives beneath us, the only possible outcome is a thousand-foot plunge to certain death. A protruding ledge would likely kill us before we hit the valley floor, but that’s no comfort.

  I turn my attention to the slope above the gutted trail. Nothing to cling to up there other than sheer rock face. And we can’t afford to waste precious time looking for another way across. Every extra minute we make Ayma and Phin wait endangers their lives too. Negotiating across the shattered trail remains our only option.

  “Too steep higher up,” Ghil says, reading my thoughts.

  “We can’t go down the mountain,” Velkan says, locking eyes with me. “We all know what’s waiting for us in that jungle.”

  “We have to turn back!” Buir urges.

  “No! We’ll push ahead,” I say, before anyone voices more qualms. “Looks to me like there’s enough of a ledge left on the trail for us to shuffle across sideways, and there are plenty of dangling roots overhead to cling to for support. Only this small section is bombed out. After that, we have a clear path to the other side of the mountain.”

  Buir turns a petrified gaze on me. “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “You can do it.” I grip her by the shoulders and fix my gaze on her. “And you will. Don’t look down, just keep moving. There isn’t time to stop and think about it.” I lean in and whisper in her ear. “Ghil hasn’t survived everything he’s been through to die here on this mountain. You can do this for him. You don’t need to be fearless, or brave, you just have to want to take him home to Cwelt more than anything else in this life.”

  Buir blinks a few times and gives a tremulous nod. “Okay. What do I do?”