Embattlement: The Undergrounders Series Book Two (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel)

by Hinkens, Norma

  I throw a baffled look at Jerome. He watches with a grimly laced expression as Trout and the others make their way up the center aisle of the courtroom toward us. I jump down from the table, still gripping the chair leg, loathe to relinquish my hastily forged weapon in the event things are about to get worse instead of better. Tucker trots up to me and licks my fingers, wagging his tail excitedly. I lean down and ruffle his neck without taking my eyes off the approaching party. I can’t imagine why Sven brought Won here. Unless he tried to escape from the holding cell. But that doesn’t explain the stranger with them.

  Trout walks straight up to Jerome, his face set in a distrustful scowl. “I knew you were hiding something,” he says. “How long were you planning on holding out on us?”

  Jerome glowers back at him. “Until we needed him.”

  “That would be now!”

  “What’s going on?” I ask, motioning at the stranger. “Who is he?”

  Sven whips up the man’s right pant leg and locks eyes with me. “Recognize this?”

  My breathing quickens. A low growl hums in Tucker’s throat. The riders and Undergrounders press forward, elbowing each other to get a better look.

  I stare at the charcoal-colored circle incised on the stranger’s ankle. It’s the same tattoo Reid and Beckett had on their legs. “A bootlegged clone,” I whisper.

  “And not just any bootlegged clone,” Sven says, through gritted teeth. “Is he, Won?”

  I look over at Won, bewildered. What’s he got to do with this?

  Won blinks rapidly behind his thick glasses. Sweat drips down the bridge of his nose.

  I grab him by the shoulder and shake him. “Sven asked you a question. Who is he?”

  Won shrinks back, his eyes wide with fear. Trout prods him hard in the back. “Tell them, Doc!”

  Won moans and casts a darting look around like a rabbit in a trap. “I … engineer him.” He falls to his knees. “He … Lyong’s son.”

  A jolt of fear goes through me. I turn and stare at the stranger, searching the smooth contours of his face for any resemblance to the shrunken monster whose ice-cold eyes sent chills slicing through me the very first time I encountered him in the Craniopolis, eyes that still haunt me in ghoulish dreams. This kid doesn’t look anything like that decaying distortion of humanity, and yet, something inside me railed against him when he first walked in. Another shudder goes through me. I wonder how many times Lyong has attempted to replicate his genes.

  I turn to Jerome. “Where did you find him?”

  “We caught him trying to infiltrate the city with a group of unsuspecting Undergrounders a few months back.”

  “Did you know who he was?”

  Jerome lets out a snort. “Everyone in the Craniopolis knew who he was. Conniving little spawn. His name’s Sook.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to digest the magnitude of what’s unfolding.

  This spindly-legged stranger is Lyong’s son. The key to the kingdom is standing right here in front of us. The shifting sense of power that hits me all at once is overwhelming. “You should have told me about this,” I mutter to Jerome under my breath. “This changes everything. We can use him as leverage, starting right now.” I toss the chair leg aside, then raise an arm in the air to get the attention of the dumbfounded Undergrounders and riders. “You all wanted a guarantee we’d make it back out of the Craniopolis.” I grab Sook’s bound hands and thrust them into the air. “Well, you’re looking at it! I give you Sook, son of Lyong. Your ticket back out of hell!”

  A spontaneous roar erupts from the crowd. Before I realize what’s happening I’m lifted up on someone’s shoulders and carried off around the room, accompanied by jubilant shouts and the stomping of boots. Men and women, who moments earlier were preparing to converge on Jerome and me like a pack of wild animals, laugh and smile and cheer, reach out to touch me like I’m some kind of deity whose miraculous powers they’ve only just recognized.

  I slap a frozen smile across my face, my insides churning with a strange disquiet in the wake of this abrupt turnaround in the collective mood. If the Undergrounders and riders can rally around me this quickly after verging on a death chant just a few minutes earlier, there’s nothing to stop them turning on me again if things don’t go according to plan. I tuck away the niggling thought as the riders carry me back to the front of the courtroom and slide me to the floor. Jerome folds his arms across his chest and gives me a guarded smile. “Looks like you’ve got yourself an army.”

  I throw him an annoyed look. “Only because your high profile detainee came to light, thanks to Trout’s detective skills.”

  Jerome moves his jaw grimly side to side.“I get that you don’t like that I kept you in the dark, but I’ve learned to keep at least one play in my pocket for when all else fails. Just remember, we’ve nothing left up our sleeve now if your plan goes south.”

  “We won’t need anything else. He’ll be more than enough.”

  Jerome plants his eye firmly on Sook. “Assuming the infamous Lyong still has some affection for his own hatchling.”

  The atmosphere in the room rapidly transforms into one of anticipation. Seems the riders and Undergrounders have embraced Sook as some kind of official guarantee of the mission’s success. But I’m not so sure Lyong is capable of feeling anything, let alone love for his engineered offspring. When I get a chance to talk to Sven alone, I’ll find out what he knows about the relationship between them. I’ve barely seen Sven since we got here, but based on how crazy the past couple of days have been, and how dangerous things are about to become, it’s probably best if we both stay focused on the mission.

  “So when do we make a move?” one of the riders calls out.

  “Yeah, what’s the plan?” Jody asks.

  “We’ll take half of the volunteers into the wilderness with us to recruit the Rogues,” I say. “The rest will remain here to guard the city.”

  “I want the best shooters accompanying us to the wilderness, but everyone needs to get busy sharpening their skills,” Jerome says. “Training begins tomorrow at dawn. Selections will be made throughout the week.”

  “What about weapons?” Sven asks. “Are there enough for everyone?”

  Jerome pulls his brows together. “We have a good stockpile of explosives, and plenty of hunting rifles, but the Schutz Clones are equipped with considerably more firing power. I’m hoping the Rogues can even the score.”

  “Their M-16’s work well against the Schutz Clones,” Sven replies, “but we’ll need enough for all of us.”

  “What about the reeducation center?” Jody says. “The guards kept a stash of heavy-duty weapons there for their riot squad. Could be a goldmine.”

  “Or a death trap,” Jerome replies. “It’s beyond the protection of the superconductor and at least a three-hour hike, exposed, no cover for miles in any direction. Extraction city. Not to mention any marauding gangs who might have set up camp there by now.”

  “It’s three hours on foot,” Jody interjects, but an hour on horseback.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, letting the idea brew in my mind. It’s a gamble, but it could pay off. With better weapons, maybe I could even persuade Jerome to leave earlier.

  He slides a questioning gaze in my direction.

  “I think it’s worth the risk,” I say. “Jody and I can put together a scouting party and make the trek under cover of darkness.”

  Jerome nods his approval. “When?”

  “Tonight,” I say. My eyes settle on Sook. The sooner we’re ready for war, the sooner we can eliminate Lyong.

  “Be careful,” Sven says to me, as he ushers the hostages toward the door. He hesitates as if he has something to add, but suddenly becomes aware of Trout giving him a dirty look. He nods good-bye to the group and exits the room with Won and Sook in tow. I don’t know why Trout gets so bent out of shape any time Sven pays me the slightest bit of attention. Maybe Jakob put him up to it. I guess it creeps them out that Sven’s a clone and ha
s been ogling me. Which might explain why Trout’s been singing Jakob’s praises to me lately.

  Back at the barn, a potbellied rider with an oversized mustache serves up generous ladles of goat and potato stew with hunks of fresh bread for dinner. Trout shovels down his share and heads back to our bunks in the back for a nap. I savor each mouthful, sharing the odd bite with Tucker, marveling again at how good everything tastes when it’s hot and fresh. I’m tired of living off jerky, and putting up with all of the other inconveniences of life on the run from the Sweepers. I long for the day we can rebuild the city and live in peace.

  A bird flies in through a gutted window and perches on the edge of a wooden stall. It twitches its tiny head around, its glassy eyes calculating its chances of snatching a morsel. A smile plays on my lips at a forgotten memory of a seagull swooping down and stealing a bag of chips right out of Ma’s hand. She always hated birds, especially seagulls. “Flying rats,” she used to call them. Maybe she’d feel differently now. Every healthy bird’s a miracle in the aftermath of the meltdown. Tucker gets to his feet in stealth mode. I signal to him to drop, and he flops back down on his paws, disgruntled. “Sorry old boy, birds are a protected species.” I tear off a chunk of bread, and lay out a trail of crumbs on the table in front of me.

  “Jakob’s back,” Jody yells down from Condor’s stall. I glance up as Jakob walks through the door in conversation with several riders. My pulse quickens. I can’t tell by the expression on his face if he’s found Izzy’s brother, or his parents.

  I jump up and run to greet him. He hugs me tight to his chest, but the sawdust-and-leather-scent of him has gone now that he’s no longer building furniture in the bunker, and it feels like I’m pressed up against a stranger. “Well?” I ask, pulling away.

  His expression is guarded. “I found Izzy’s brother, but he’s ill. High fever.”

  My stomach twists when I picture Izzy’s serious little face, her tiny fingers reaching out to touch her brother’s feverish brow. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He had some kind of flu and it developed into pneumonia. He’s coughing up blood, barely able to breathe. It doesn’t look good. Izzy’s with him right now.”

  Jakob’s steel blue eyes moisten. I know he was hoping for a fairytale ending for Izzy’s sake. We both were.

  “Any word on your parents?” I ask.

  “No one’s seen them.” He furrows his brow. “I asked around about your ma too, but …”

  I shrug. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect to find her.”

  He rubs a hand over his face. “I wish there was something we could do to help Izzy. After everything she’s gone through, she doesn’t deserve to lose her brother now.”

  “We did our part getting her here,” I say. “Can’t the doctors do anything?”

  “They don’t have the medicine they need.”

  “Not even here in the city?”

  Jakob shakes his head. “They’ve stripped every pharmacy shelf they could find, even went through the abandoned luggage in the rubble at the airport. He needs some kind of special antibiotic. The hospital stocked it, but it was destroyed in the meltdown.”

  A feeling of helplessness comes over me. I thought bringing Izzy here would make things better for her, but it may only have made things worse. Now she’s going to have to relive her losses all over again.

  “I’m sorry,” Jakob says. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. I can take you over there to see Izzy if you want.”

  I give a quick shake of my head. “I have to leave.”

  He frowns. “Leave? Where are you going?”

  “A few of us are riding out to the reeducation center to look for weapons.”

  Jakob stares at me the way he does when his mind is working something over. “I’m coming with you,” he says.

  “Thanks, but no. It’s just a small scouting party—Jody, Ida, me and Trout, two packhorses. In and out, as few people as possible. We’ll be back before dawn. Besides, I need you to stay here with Izzy’s brother. He may not make it through the night. And then she’ll need you more than ever.”

  “What she needs is her brother. And there’s a chance I can save him if I come.” Jakob’s eyes gleam with renewed hope as he reaches for his pack. “If the reeducation center had its own riot squad, it had an infirmary too.”

  16

  I stare at Jakob, my mind spinning. If the infirmary is intact, the supplies might still be there.

  “I’ll look for the antibiotics while you’re tracking down the weapons,” Jakob says, tightening the straps on his pack. “I know exactly what I need. We can still be in and out of there in the same amount of time.”

  I take a shallow breath. It adds to the risk of the mission, but we owe it to Izzy to give it a shot. And maybe, just maybe, saving her brother will be some consolation for losing mine. Trout’s right about Jakob having an uncanny knack of coming to the rescue just when all seems lost. “All right,” I say. “I’ll line up another horse. Sit down and eat before we leave.”

  Jakob parks himself at the closest table and helps himself to a bowl of steaming stew. “What’s the plan once we secure the weapons?”

  I pull over a bench and sit down beside him. “We need to train the Undergrounders before we head to the wilderness.”

  A somber look slips over Jakob’s face. “Are you afraid of meeting The Ghost? Even Rummy seems to be in awe of him.”

  I shrug. “I’m more afraid of what will happen if we don’t stop the Sweepers. I reckon Rummy can handle The Ghost for us.” I toss a scrap of meat to Tucker and get to my feet. “I need to take care of something before we go.”

  “What?” Jakob eyes me suspiciously.

  “I have to get the layout of the reeducation center from Rummy, and anything else he can tell me that might help us.”

  Jakob raises his brows. “Think he’ll tell you anything? Take Trout with you. Rummy might talk to him.”

  I toss my braid over my shoulder. “He’ll talk to me. He wants to put an end to the Sweepers’ reign as much as we do.”

  A cold sweat wraps itself around me as I walk up the courtroom steps alongside Trout. Of course Jakob went back to the sleeping area, woke Trout, and sent him after me. I swear those two are in league or something. But I have to admit, it’s reassuring to have Trout along. I can already feel Blade’s eyes probing me for a point of entry, some weakness he can use to ignite a reaction. It won’t be hard considering the level of hatred I have for him. I can’t ever forgive him for killing Mason.

  Sven sticks his head out of the makeshift dining room when he hears our footsteps. He waves us over, his mouth full of food. “I thought you might have left already,” he says, wiping his sleeve across his face.

  “We’re making the run out to the reeducation center after this,” I say.

  Sven grunts. “Better hope you hit the motherlode. The Schutz Clones aren’t short on firing power.”

  “Are you still holding Blade and Rummy here?” Trout asks.

  Sven signals over his shoulder with his thumb. “Back in the cell, with Doc Won and Sook. Blackbeard’s getting ready to take Won and Sook back to the safe house they were keeping Sook in.” He folds his arms in front of him, a smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t tell me you brought those two apes a care package?”

  “Not likely,” I laugh. “I need to know the interior layout of the reeducation center, and where the guards kept the riot equipment, that kind of thing. We have to be able to move in and out quickly to make it back before dawn.”

  Sven rubs his chin thoughtfully. “They’re not talking much.”

  I arch a brow at him. “They will once they realize spilling information could be their ticket out of here.”

  Trout and I follow Sven along the corridor past Jerome’s empty office to the room with the holding cell. Blackbeard gets up from a chair in the corner and gives a curt nod when we enter. I peer into the holding cell, my heart racing in my chest. Won and Sook sit side by side at the ba
ck of the cell, staring glumly at the floor. Rummy slouches against the adjacent wall, one knee bent, his brow creased in a harsh “V.” His eyes flick over us in a bored manner before he closes them. I know without looking at Blade that his eyes are burning into me. When I finally glance across at him, a flicker of satisfaction lights up his face. He gets to his feet, comes to the front of the cell and grabs hold of the bars with his bound hands, a frightening lip-grin framing the dark cavern of his mouth. The scar that’s gouged out a path from one corner of his lip to his half-missing brow deepens. “Miss me?” He snorts, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

  My tongue feels thick in my mouth, but I force myself to speak. I can’t let him think he rattles me even from behind bars. “Smell’s like pig in here,” I say, pretending to sniff the air. “Hope the pen’s to your satisfaction.”

  His face contorts like melting plastic. He tightens his grip on the bars and then spits as far as he can in my direction, thankfully just out of range. I shudder at the thought of his nasty phlegm on my face.

  I allow myself the satisfaction of curling my lip at him, then turn to Sven. “Bring Rummy into Jerome’s office. We’ll talk to him there without his buffoon brother interrupting us. Blackbeard can keep an eye on the others for a few minutes.”

  I whirl around and stride out of the room without another glance at Blade. I’m shaking so hard, I can barely stand upright. Inside Jerome’s office, I tumble into the nearest chair and lay my head down on the desk. I want to give the Rogues a second chance when this is all over, but as Big Ed says, there’s them that love darkness more than light. Blade’s one of them. He won’t rest until he kills me.

  “Why are you stirring things up with Blade?” Trout asks, coming into the room. He slumps down into Jerome’s chair opposite me.