Reign: Populations Crumble, Book 3

by K. A. Gandy

  Mav reaches out a hand to steady me, and I gratefully accept it as I slide from the table to the floor. We slowly walk out, and about halfway back to our rooms the world steadies. I tentatively release Mav’s arm. She stuffs her hands into her bomber jacket’s pockets.

  “I don’t know how you can wear that thing down here, Mav. It’s too hot for real clothes,” I observe idly.

  She snorts. “This hea’ is my armor. Wear it all the time, no matter the weather.”

  My thoughts drift back to the day I put on my favorite jeans to leave Georada—jeans long since left behind in Mairmont—and I know exactly what she means.

  “That was real’ generous of you, Sadie,” she continues.

  I wave her off, not wanting to talk about it.

  “Right when I think I understand you, you go changin’ on me again.” She shakes her head, and I’m left to ponder what she means by that as we walk the last few feet of the hall until she drops me off at our room. We part with a silent wave, and I enter to find Patrick already zipping up a duffel bag with our meager possessions.

  “All done?” he asks.

  “Yep, I’m just a bit lighter.” I hold up the two vials and give them a small shake to illustrate.

  He nods and—in trade for our vials of proof—hands me a piece of the delicious crusty bread already slathered with tangy butter. Musk-ox butter, as it turns out.

  I chew happily, my feet up on our stone bench as I watch him make one last circuit of the room, checking for anything we’d left behind. Satisfied that there is nothing left, he throws the light bag over his shoulder, and stands in front of me. “Ready to head out?”

  With a nod, I hold up a hand for him to pull me up. I’m once again tired, since my earlier nap got disrupted by Glitch’s big news. He hauls me to my feet, and my body brushes against his. The brief contact sends a frisson of heat through me, and I sway for a second. He steadies me with his left hand, and then sets the bag down on our dining table. He plucks the last few bites of bread from my hand, and sets it next to the bag.

  “Hey! I wasn’t done with that yet—” I try to argue, but he silences me with a sweltering kiss. From zero to molten in two-point-five seconds flat.

  His hands thread into my hair, and I lean to the side to give him better access. My heart is beating wildly against my ribcage, and where my hand rests on his chest, I feel his beating every bit as fast. The kiss is a sweet eternity, and when he releases me, I sigh at his absence. He runs the back of his knuckles from my temple, slowly down my jaw and to the corner of my well-kissed lips.

  “I love you so much, and I can’t wait to get to the next chapter of our lives together. Where we can settle down, find a home, and raise this baby together,” he whispers. “We’re almost done, Sadie. I can feel it in my bones.” He rests his forehead against mine, and for a moment we’re frozen, breathing the same air, reveling in being together.

  “I love you too, Patrick,” I whisper in return, and lean up to plant a soft return kiss on his forehead. Trailing kisses down his face on the same path he traced on my own, I land back on his lips. The kiss is tender, and full of promise.

  We may not have many worldly possessions, but I’d trade it all again in a heartbeat for another day with this man. Hand in hand, we left our room, and headed back to the underground airport to leave Zanetti for good. For you must leave your knowledge of Zanetti behind you when you go.

  ✽✽✽

  We have to fly through the night and, unlike the trip to Alaska Territories, I find myself restless and unable to sleep on the way to Wrightsville. All the possible outcomes of the next twenty-four hours play on loop in my brain, and I desperately wish for a way to shut them off. Patrick’s soft snores in the window seat meld with the hum of the plane’s engines, and eventually I drift to fitful sleep.

  A crack of lightning in the night sky wakes me an indeterminate time later, and I sit upright with a jolt. Looking around, I see Atlas standing directly outside the cockpit, discussing something with Mav. He nods at something I can’t hear and returns to his seat in the row ahead of ours.

  “Everything okay?” I whisper, not wanting to wake Patrick or Nell, both sleeping through the natural commotion.

  “She says we’re at the very edge of the storm, so we don't need to land. She’s already adjusted our flight pattern to accommodate.”

  Thank God for Mav’s wicked flight skills.

  He rolls his shoulders, and settles back into the seat, but doesn’t close his eyes. Staring out the window, I can tell he’s having the same problem I am with sleeplessness. We sit in silence for some time when he surprises me by speaking again.

  “I’m worried about Glitch. He’s putting a lot on his shoulders, and I can tell he feels personally responsible for the success of this mission.” He pauses, and his jaw twitches as if in indecision, something I never pegged Atlas to struggle with. “You . . . you’re pretty good with people. Maybe when we land, you can remind him that we’ve got his back. And that it’s not on him alone. I think he’ll listen to you.”

  Having said his piece, he crosses his arms over his broadly muscled chest, and slouches down to rest his head against the back of his seat before closing his eyes.

  Taking his example, I lean back against Patrick’s arm, and shut my eyes once again.

  ✽✽✽

  The morning dawns cold and gray, with snow clouds gathering overhead in the small city of Juniper. For a place a stone’s throw from the capital, it’s truly a ghost town. Proximity has earned it better preservation than most, however, and the town has an eerie feel to it as a result. It’s almost as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for all of its missing residents to walk in and open it back up later this afternoon. Instead, it’s sat here sealed and abandoned and will continue to sit for the foreseeable future. Maybe forever if the population doesn’t start increasing again soon. The dismal thought matches the gloomy day.

  I stamp my feet to ward off the cold, watching as Atlas ducks into a third building, searching for the perfect place to wait out our trap. Hopefully he finds a place with working heat.

  A moment later, he pops his head back out and waves us all in. Glitch lets out a throaty sigh, and starts toward the door. Atlas’s request last night surfaces, and I call out, “Hey, Glitch?”

  He turns, and after I wave Patrick and Nell inside, we’re alone in the desolate street. “What’s up, Sadie-cup?”

  I shake my head at his half-hearted attempt at banter, and give him a crooked smile. “Your expectations, I think.”

  He looks confused. “What?”

  “I just want to make sure that you know we’re all behind you on this. You’re the one going in there, but we’re all responsible for how things go today. You know that, right?” I reach out and give his hand a squeeze, the effect somewhat muffled by our gloves.

  He looks down and shuffles his feet. “I know that, but . . .” He trails off.

  “It’s hard to believe that. But I’m serious, Glitch. We’re all behind you, and we all came to this plan together. Whatever happens in there today, we’ll deal with it together, too.”

  He nods, and meets my eyes with a grateful expression. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he still seems nervous. “Thanks, Sadie.”

  I give him one final pat on the shoulder as we walk into our mission headquarters.

  Splat

  Glitch is nervous. He’s normally a little spastic, but right now he’s in overdrive. He’s fiddled with the strap on his bag, the pin camera hidden there, his glasses, the two vials inside the bag, his tablet, his recording pen, his pepper spray, his taser, the body cam, and—most worrisome—the earpiece in his ear. Unable to take it a second longer, I walk over, and grab both of his hands mid-fiddle with the neck of his shirt. He’s back in standard-issue Resistance fatigues, just in case.

  “Glitch, for the love of all that’s holy and Mama’s buttermilk biscuits, hold still,” I urge him.

  He blushes. “Sorry, Sadie. I want to make s
ure I don’t forget anything. I mean, there’s a lot riding on this. If one of the cameras doesn’t pick up, or if I say the wrong thing, or—I mean, this would be the absolute worst—but, what if nobody shows at all?” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.

  “Then we’ll figure it out. That’s the only option.” Slowly, like I’m dealing with a spooky colt, I release his hands. He clenches them into fists and holds them down by his sides.

  Better, but not by a whole lot. “It’s almost time. Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn’t have to be you. I’ll go, or Atlas can go.”

  Atlas nods his agreement, arms crossed and face impassive, his usual stance during operations.

  “No, no, no. We’ve been over this. It has to be me. Too immature”—he points at Nell—“too unbelievable”—Patrick—“too pregnant and therefore not-risk-able”—me—“and too intimidating”— Atlas.

  “Nonetheless, the offer still stands,” I insist.

  He takes a deep breath and seems to find his calm. “Thank you, Sadie. But I can do this.” His eyes are steady, so I step back with a nod.

  “Go get ‘em, Glitch,” Mav says from her place propped in a corner chair. Her eyes are still closed, after a long night of flying and then hiding our plane before our backup arrived. The NAA Police are stationed in hiding at key points around the city, and once Glitch and the mystery man are inside, they’ll surround the place. The king was more than happy to send his best men to see this done with.

  “You’ve got this, my man.” Patrick walks over, and extends a hand to shake.

  Glitch grips it in return. “Thanks, Rick-raff.”

  Nell and Atlas also offer encouragement as he walks towards the door, and then he’s gone. We all settle in behind the monitor bank and watch through the various cameras hidden on his person as he walks down the street, to a bank across the street from the coffee shop where the meeting is supposed to happen. Slipping inside, he settles into a chair he’d placed there earlier.

  For nearly an hour, we all wait in silence. Nell’s crunching on various snacks is the only sound. To my surprise, Glitch doesn’t fidget. He sits stock still in the chair, hands fastened into its poofy paisley fabric armrests like his life depends on it.

  Then, a familiar silver hover vehicle pulls past the building and continues on down the street. We catch it on the cameras a few times, and it seems like the driver is doing a patrol of the small city in advance. The dark tint means we can’t catch a glimpse yet of who’s inside. The suspense is killing me. Eventually satisfied, the sleek vehicle pulls to a stop on the opposite side of the coffee shop. We hear a distant snap of door hinges opening, and then a clunk of the door shutting again. After that, all is quiet. Glitch waits five more minutes, as Atlas instructed, before rising slowly from the chair, and exiting the bank. It feels as though we’re right there with him, given our view and the motion from the various body cameras. He slips into the front door of the coffee shop, and the back of a woman in a sharp suit comes into view. Her hair is in a tightly-bound twist on the back of her head, and her pumps are rather more serviceable than showy. A nervous energy fills the room, and even Mav has given up her comfy chair in favor of being upright, and watching over our shoulders.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Glitch opens without a single waiver in his voice. My heart soars at his bravery.

  A bored female voice drifts over her shoulder, and she doesn’t turn immediately. “Yes, well, you have something I want. Or so you say.”

  Patrick freezes stiff to my right, and I hastily look over to see why, and after taking in his horrified face, I turn back to the screen.

  She turns slowly, deliberately taking her time and not looking the least bit concerned. “Are you prepared to prove yourself, Mr. . . . Glitch, is it?”

  Good gracious, it’s Patrick’s mother.

  He nods in response.

  “What an odd name.” She pauses again, waiting. When he doesn’t move fast enough to suit her, she snaps her fingers impatiently. “Are you going to show me, or keep standing there like an idiot? I haven’t got all day!”

  Glitch fumbles a bit opening the messenger back, and jostles one of the cameras along the strap. One of our monitors goes a hair sideways but doesn’t stop recording. The vials clank together softly as he holds them aloft, but doesn’t move any closer.

  With an annoyed sigh, she strides across the room. At the last second, he steps back, holding the vials behind his back. “Why? I want to know why you were willing to betray your own husband, first,” he demands.

  She laughs, the sound cold in the empty space. “Your mistake is in thinking I betrayed him first. He failed me long ago. Now, hand those over so I can test them.”

  Stunned by her lack of remorse, I look back at Patrick and see true chagrin on his face, his head now propped by his elbows on the arms of the chair as he helplessly watches the scene unfold. I snake an arm between his bicep and forearm and rest a supportive hand on the muscle corded there.

  Glitch silently hands the vials to Queen Deb, who inserts them into a small, square machine pulled from her suit pocket. It hums for sixty seconds, and then lights up green.

  “Match found—let’s verify.” She presses a button, and something flashes on the screen that only she can see. “Well, well. A silly name, but not an unfounded threat. Richardson was wrong about you after all.” She slips the vials out of the machine, and into her suit pocket.

  “What do you want in exchange for the girl?” she asks in a bored tone.

  “Only the girl?” Glitch rapid-fires back.

  She rolls her eyes, and props a hand on her hip, bunching her suit jacket in the process. “Yes, only the girl. I’d rather my dear son not know I’m involved. I’m sure you’ll tell him, but he won’t believe you. Now, stop beating around the bush. How much?” she snaps.

  “I’m afraid you won’t be getting what you want, after all,” Glitch says, the first hint of disgust creeping into his voice.

  “Trust me, we will. Give me a price, and it will be deposited in the account of your choice within ninety seconds.” She taps her ear confidently, indicating that someone is listening in for the account number.

  “There’s just one problem with that. I don’t put a price on people.” The doors at either end of the coffee shop blow inward simultaneously, and Deb screams, covering her head as splinters fly. Glitch steps back, and uniformed members of the NAA Police swoop her up under both arms before she has a chance to try and run. The testing machine flies from her hands and bounces with a thud off of the nearest wall.

  They turn and carry her towards the door, but Glitch shouts for them to stop. Jogging over, he pats Deb’s sides until he finds the pocket with the vials, and extracts them. He jiggles them before her face one last time, before returning them to his messenger bag. “Go ahead.” He nods, and as the police carry her out she screams threats towards Glitch over her shoulder the entire way.

  We pile out of the temporary headquarters, and rush to meet Glitch at the coffee shop. The rest of our group rushes in, but I stop, dragging Patrick to a halt with me. “Are you okay?” I search his face for signs of how he’s feeling, but he’s got his emotions under tight lock and key.

  “Not at all.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But it’s not about me, right now. Let’s see this through, and deal with the fallout later.” He spins on his heel, and storms into the coffee shop, leaving me stunned in his wake.

  Mommy Dearest

  I take a swig of cocoa from the paper cup Nell passes me, but wince in revulsion. It tastes like cardboard water with a sadly mistreated cocoa bean in it. Shuddering, I pass it back. I’d rather be thirsty than drink that. She takes a swig, and shrugs. “Tastes fine to me.”

  “Your standards are lower than the baby’s,” I whisper accusingly. We’re relatively secluded in this hallway, but there are police all over the place in this station and I don’t want to risk being overheard. Patrick, Glitch, and Atlas are giving a len
gthy report in one of the rooms, but Nell and I are spared the interrogation for now. I’m sure our time is coming, but for the time being we’re relegated to the hallway, and piss-poor hot cocoa pilfered from the break room.

  I’m staring at the toes of my borrowed black winter boots, when footsteps echo down the long hallway. I don’t bother looking up, since quite a few cops have traipsed by to check out the circus act that is our reappearance. This time, however, the footsteps stop a few feet away. Nell elbows me in the ribs, and I swat at her hand.

  Finally looking up, I gasp and leap to my feet. “Peter!” I fling myself into his waiting arms, and nearly bowl him right into the wall.

  He laughs, and squeezes me tight. “I missed you too, Sadie-bear. I missed you too.” He lifts my feet off the ground, and spins me in a circle.

  I laugh, feeling like a kid again for just a minute. When my feet touch the ground again, I stagger back a step. He grabs my arms to steady me, and chuckles. Growing serious, he gives me his sternest older-brother voice. “I am not ever letting you out of my sight again, young lady. I about had a heart attack, waking up on the side of that cursed road, finding you two gone.” He adjusts his arm in the sling where it’s still tied close to his body with a grimace.

  Whoops, a little too rough with him still on the mend.

  “It wasn’t like we had a choice, Peter. We were kidnapped, not joyriding.”

  “I know, and it killed me every dang day.” His voice is tight, and the guilt permeating the small hallway is suffocating.

  “Hey, it was not your fault. You know that, right? Peter?” I demand, but he dodges my gaze, looking stubbornly over my shoulder.

  “I was in charge of your safety, and you were snatched. On my watch, with me feet away. You could have been killed, or worse. I’ll never forgive myself.” His voice is hollow now, and the joy of the moment is sucked away that fast.