Frozen: Heart of Dread, Book One

by de la Cruz, Melissa

  “Put it down! What do you think you’re doing?” Wes yelled, walking out from behind the truck.

  She stood from her place and saw where Wes was headed. Zedric was perched on top of an old black Bentley. Its tires were flat and all the windows were missing. Someone had pulled out the seats and the engine was gone. Zedric laughed as he tried to steady himself on the hood of the car that was slowly collapsing under his weight.

  “Watch this!” Zedric yelled, as he aimed his RPG at a pair of thin steel-and-wood beams that supported a big house across the hill. The long glass façade must have been beautiful once, but its windows were all smashed now and its roofline as wavy as a noodle. The neighboring houses were similarly perched out over the hill on tiny thin posts.

  A loud smack interrupted her thoughts.

  Wes had knocked the rifle from Zedric’s hand, which hit the boy’s nose as the gun fell to the snow. “What the hell!” Wes demanded.

  Zedric glared at him. “I was just having a little fun!”

  For a moment, Nat thought he was going to hit Wes, but the smaller boy seemed to think better of it.

  There was a pop—another explosion—but different this time, and all of them turned around to see the long white house slide down the hillside and crash into the trash pile below.

  “You shot out the supports, didn’t you?” asked Wes.

  “It was fun,” Zedric repeated, reaching for his gun as he wiped a trickle of blood from his nose.

  “Thanks a lot. You just let the seeker team out there know exactly where we are. Where’s your brother? We need to get out of here before they come.”

  Zedric shrugged, but they all knew where to look.

  “Once a scavenger, always a scavenger,” Wes muttered and Nat understood the temptation had been too great for Daran. Zedric’s hyena laugh echoed through the canyon as a second house disappeared down the cliff side.

  “I’m assuming you weren’t dumb enough to shoot at the house your brother’s in?” Wes demanded.

  Zedric glared at Wes as blood streamed out of his nose. “What’s your problem, man?” he whined. “Ain’t hurting no one.”

  “Just get him already.”

  “Daran!” Zedric called.

  “Daran!” Shakes took up the call and Farouk did, too. Nat did the same.

  After a few minutes Daran lumbered out of the house, his arms filled with a collection of junk: toasters, an electric fan, what looked like part of a blender. He ran, breathless, back to the truck.

  “Shakes—we good to go?” Wes asked.

  “Ready when you are.”

  Wes barked his orders. “Everyone in the truck! Now!”

  “What’s the rush?” Farouk asked, as they watched Daran hustle toward them, wading through the snow.

  “These houses are packed with pop-cans, every single one of them. It’s common knowledge. Daran should have known better, he does know better,” Wes said, frustrated. “C’MON!” he yelled.

  “He’s stuck,” Nat said, as they watched Daran flail in the deep snow. But as she moved to help, Wes pulled her back.

  There was another explosion. This one wasn’t from the big gun or the sound of a house skiing down the hillside. The two of them were blown backward to the ground as the air filled with a mix of white powder and black smoke.

  “Pop-can,” Wes said, kicking away a rusted can that Nat had accidentally stepped on. “An old one; that’s why it didn’t immediately explode when you hit it.”

  Nat just stared at him, too shaken up to speak.

  “You can thank me later,” he said. “DARAN, COME ON, MAN! Zedric—go help your brother.”

  Zedric stood his ground, staring at Wes, his eyes wide with fear.

  “We’re not going to leave you boys—you hear me? Go get your dimwit brother out of that trench! Now!”

  Zedric didn’t move.

  “Pop-cans have a proximity detonation feature,” he explained to Nat. “When one of those things go off, it sends a signal to the rest. This whole valley could collapse. All this so Daran can buy a hit of oxy in K-Town.”

  On cue, another explosion atomized the house behind them. Wes cursed—the explosion had sent Daran flying, and he was wedged facedown in the black snow. “Mask!” Wes yelled, and Shakes threw him a gas mask. “If you hear another pop, hit the gas—I’ll meet you in K-Town!” He put on the mask and waded through the snow and smoke toward the fallen soldier.

  “C’mon,” Zedric said, pushing Nat into the LTV. “Every pop-can within a mile is going to explode in a few minutes!”

  But Nat held her ground. “We can’t go without them. Shakes, we can’t leave him here!” she said wildly.

  “Don’t worry, haven’t lost him yet,” Shakes promised.

  A third explosion triggered a fourth. Nat knew they would have to go soon—otherwise they would all end up dead.

  But after a few minutes Wes finally emerged from the smoke, Daran slung over his shoulder. She caught her breath and raced out of the truck to help him drag the unconscious kid through the snow. Shakes jumped out of the cabin and opened the back door. They slid Daran into the cargo area, then sped off down the hillside, the valley echoing with bombs.

  16

  THE CANYON WALLS COLLAPSED BEHIND them, and as the snow fell, crushing the blanket of flowers, the petals released their seeds, filling the air with a glittering cloud of specks. Even as they were making their escape, Wes thought it was one of the prettiest sights he had ever seen.

  “Nanos!” Farouk yelled.

  “No! They’re not nanos!” Wes said. “They’re something else.”

  “Seeds—they’re seeds!” Nat said excitedly. “Look!” The team watched as the seeds were swept high by the wind and spread over the snowy landscape, twinkling and swirling, a cloud of life, instead of death.

  Wes caught her eye and he knew she was thinking the same thing. So this was how the flowers came to cover the area. Somehow, some way, something was growing in the wastelands. Was the earth healing? Was there such a thing as hope for the future? A way beyond this frozen hellhole?

  For now, the hillside had liquefied under the stress of the many explosions and was cascading down into a waterfall of wet snow and debris. Wes shook his head. It was all such a waste, and frightening how easily everything had been destroyed—as if the houses were made of straw—all it took was one puff and they were gone. It was a miracle they had survived this long.

  When they were halfway down what was left of the 101, Daran woke up, annoyed at having dropped his loot. He had little left to show for his pains: a gold watch and a silver spoon stuffed into his pants pockets. Metal had some value in K-Town but not much. He would have been better off if he’d held on to the kerosene lantern he’d found in the garage. He was still complaining as they hit the streets of the phantom, snow-covered city, mumbling under his breath and cursing his trigger-happy little brother for his prank.

  “Ah, shut up already,” Shakes said, uncharacteristically edgy.

  Wes shook his head at Daran; he was too tired to be angry. He turned to Nat. “You’re bleeding,” he said, motioning to the side of her head.

  Nat put a hand to her scalp, surprised to find her hair covered with blood. “Funny, I didn’t feel anything.”

  “Shakes—stop the truck. Zedric—get your brother bandaged up, that cut might get infected, and bring me some of the antibio when you’re done,” Wes ordered.

  They stopped at an abandoned parking lot of what used to be a shopping mall. Nat leaned against the hood while Wes cleaned her wounds with a sponge. “Pop-can must’ve got you after all,” he said. “Huh.” He stared at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought—I was ready to stitch you up, but it looks like it’s almost healed.”

  “I told you, I didn’t feel anything,” sh
e said. “I’m okay.”

  Wes could have sworn he had seen a deep, ugly gash, but when he pushed her hair away, it was nothing—a surface wound—the blood had slowed to a trickle. He didn’t want to think about what that meant and decided to ignore it for now. Maybe she hadn’t been hit that badly. Yeah, right.

  “Nice crew you got there,” she said, rolling her eyes toward the Slaine boys. Daran was yelling as Farouk and Shakes held him down while Zedric rolled a canvas cloth around his middle.

  Wes shook his head, his jaw hardened. Now why did she have to go and say something like that? He didn’t like it when anyone insulted his boys. “They’re all right. Not my first choice, but it’s a dirty job, taking people through the Pile. Not many would want to do it,” he said, looking at her pointedly, as if to say, If they weren’t here, you wouldn’t be, either. “Dropouts are all I could get.”

  “Right,” she said, chastened. “I’m sorry.”

  He sighed. “You know how it goes.” He wasn’t sure if she did, but she had to have been in Vegas long enough to know that dropping out of the military was like dropping out of society. The army was the only game in town for the likes of them. Without an honorable discharge, there was a slim chance of being hired for any decent work.

  “Leaving the military’s no joke,” he told her. “So when they end up with me, I try and teach them to be better soldiers. There’s no room for heroes or horseplay in this line of work. When it comes down to it, a soldier’s only goal is to stay alive, nothing more, nothing less.” He frowned and continued to clean her wound, trying and failing to ignore the spark between them as his fingers touched her forehead. “A guy goes off and starts shooting randomly, it’s my duty to take him down a notch, put him back in line. I did Zed a favor when I busted his nose. It might save his life one day, the next time he thinks of doing something that stupid.”

  “So why’d you leave, then?” she asked. “Shakes said you won a Purple Heart and a Medal of Honor. He said you could have been a general one day, maybe.”

  He sighed, placing a bandage on her head, pressing it down so it would stick. “I didn’t have it in me to be a career man, I guess, let’s leave it at that. How about you, where’d you serve?” he asked innocently.

  “I didn’t,” she said.

  “Oh, right, you got an upper school pass?”

  “No . . .” But she didn’t elaborate. “I thought you said you had me checked out?” She smiled, but her tone was guarded.

  He gave her a long look. “No questions.”

  “Thanks for this,” she said, pointing to his work.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Boss, we gotta move,” Shakes said, coming up to them. “Farouk picked up a seeker signal on the radar. They’re two clicks north.”

  Wes nodded, hiding the wave of nausea he felt from the news. “Let’s go, maybe we can lose them.”

  They climbed back on board the LTV and Wes took the wheel again. He stuck to the back roads, plowing the truck through front yards and rough earth, forcing the truck to go as fast as it could. The team was quiet, tense, and even the Slaines were subdued. They knew Wes was angry with them for giving away their position.

  “What happens if the seekers find us?” Nat wanted to know.

  “Let’s hope they don’t,” Wes said.

  “You keep saying that. Will they kill us?”

  “There are worse things than being shot and dying quickly,” he said tightly. There was no use frightening everyone. Either they would be caught or they would be able to evade them. Life or death, but wasn’t it always? Military prisons were notorious for their brutal treatment of captives, and Wes sure hoped they wouldn’t end up in one. He’d been lucky so far; maybe his luck would hold.

  “If it looks like they’ll be able to take us into custody, just shoot me, okay, boss?” Shakes whispered next to him. “Promise. I’d rather die at your hand than theirs.”

  “It won’t come to that,” Wes said testily. “Cut that self-defeating chatter.”

  “Go faster,” Nat whispered from behind him. Her breath was almost at his ear, and he felt his skin tingle.

  “I’m giving it all she’s got,” Wes said.

  “I think we lost them,” Farouk said, looking up from his scanner.

  Nat exhaled, but it appeared the young soldier had spoken too soon. She looked up just as Wes hit the brakes and the truck screeched to a halt.

  A pair of white-camouflaged Humvees were blocking the road.

  The seekers had found their prey.

  17

  THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAN GETTING shot and dying quickly, Wes had said just moments ago. Even he had to admire his own bravado. That was a good line. He willed his fear away. Maybe there was hope yet, since the Humvees hadn’t shot them on sight.

  “It’s fine, leave it to me,” he told Nat as he turned off the engine.

  Zedric’s fun with explosives in the hills had brought the seekers directly their way, just as Wes had warned, and running into the rebar and the caravan hunters hadn’t helped. They were trapped now. There was no use running; the trucks were too close to them and heavily armed. Even if he tried, there was a pair of drones circling above that would fire on command.

  A soldier wearing officer stripes on his jumpsuit got out of the nearest Humvee, followed by a team of his men. They all had rifles slung over their shoulders, but no one made a move to attack.

  Daran gripped the top hatch and drew his weapon.

  Shakes moved to follow, but Wes stopped him. “Sit tight, boys, I’ve got this one.” He kicked open his door and jumped down onto the muddy, snow-covered road.

  “What are you doing?” Shakes wanted to know. “Those aren’t some fool tour guides you can bullshit, those are RSA boys, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, and so was I once,” Wes said. He got out of the truck, his heart beating in his chest, but his walk as smooth and languid as ever. He kept a lazy grin on his face as he approached.

  The officer was leaning against one of the Humvees’ front grilles, its engine rumbling behind him, making clouds of steam rise from the truck’s warm hood.

  “Morning, sir,” Wes said.

  There was no reply. The soldier just stared up at the cloudy white sky and waited for Wes to come closer.

  I hope I’m right about this. Wes kept his cool as he walked toward the seekers. He saw that both of the Humvees had their long guns trained at his head, the massive barrels rotating slowly to follow his progress. He noticed that the group of soldiers hanging back had a marked one with them, a boy his age, his red eyes gleaming with hatred, the mark on his forehead like a third eye. Wes had heard those who bore the third eye could read minds. The seeker team had probably used him to sense them. That program was supposed to have been shut down after Santonio, but knowing how things worked, Wes should not have been surprised to find it up and running.

  He deliberately kept his thoughts blank.

  “Explosions that size are pretty hard to miss around here,” the officer drawled, breaking his silence at last. “Next time just radio us your location. It’ll make all of our lives a little easier.”

  “Sorry about that.” Wes smiled. “I hate to inconvenience you.”

  “Don’t your guys know better than to play around in the hills?”

  “They’re just kids,” he replied.

  “All the more need to keep them safe.” The officer stared him down.

  Here it comes, thought Wes.

  “I hear you runners make a good living hauling illegals through the Trash Pile. What’s a trip fetching these days? Five, ten thousand watts?”

  Wes stared at the red-eyed soldier. “Five.” It was a lie, but Wes made himself believe it was true.

  The boy did not argue.

  Wes was relieved; maybe it had worked somehow, since he’d kept his poker face on, h
is mind clear.

  The officer smirked. “Well? Hand it over. I’m cold and my men want to get out of this godforsaken junkyard. Then you can be on your way.”

  Wes just shook his head as he reluctantly gave the officer one of the platinum chips from his pocket. “You guys are making it hard out here for an honest smuggler.”

  The officer grinned broadly as he took the chip from Wes. “Next time, just wait for us at the border and I might cut you a better deal. Rather not dig for gold if we can help it.”

  Wes tried to laugh, but the whole thing stunk. He needed those credits and so did his guys. He thought about clocking the smug bastard on the chin, but then he remembered those t-guns. Both barrels were still trained on his head, and the marked boy never took his eyes off him. He didn’t put it past them to shoot them still, or drag them away to one of their prisons.

  He turned and jogged back to his truck and slipped into the driver’s seat. “What did I tell you guys, we’re fine,” he said, revving up the engine.

  “They’re just going to let us go? Just like that? What did they want, then?” Nat asked as the boys exhaled.

  “Entrance fee at the toll booth,” Wes quipped. “Look, we’re finally in K-Town.”

  18

  THERE WAS NOTHING ACROSS THE LINE— that’s what the government said—what they wanted you to believe, anyway. As the LTV drove down battered Wilshire Boulevard, Nat saw signs of life everywhere—buildings dug out from the snow, with flashing signs in Korean and textlish, the symbols almost interchangeable. The streets were teeming with people of all kinds, a cacophony of noises and a variety of smells. This was more than a tent city; if there was such a thing as the capital of Garbage Country, this was it.

  Wes put a hand on her arm as she stepped out of the truck. “Watch your step,” he said, and she nodded to let him know she understood; he meant not just her footing but to be mindful as she moved around the area. This was a lawless place, populated by all manner of criminals—scavengers, slavers, vets, refugees, and illegals.