“How’s it going?” Jeremiah pitched his voice to a casual tone.
Ferris was sweating. He clearly knew the stakes now. Everyone did. Ears cocked across the company as the thundering grew closer. The lock picker wiped his brow with one hand, while the other never stopped jiggling and working with the tools. He shook his head without looking up. “It’s more resistant than an average lock. It has at least five cylinders...”
Jeremiah jumped off the steps. They had less than a minute before the Regs arrived. He ran towards his car, hauling himself in through the passenger side onto the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition, and jerking the car into gear. He hit the gas and drove just a half dozen feet past the building before slamming on the brakes. Leaning across the passenger seat, he opened the door and pushed it hard until it fell open as wide as it would go. With one quick look in the rearview mirror, and a few twists of the wheel, he punched the car into reverse. The crash of the passenger door against the heavy cement building was deafening, but it worked. With a squeal of metal tearing from metal, the passenger door ripped off and fell onto the pavement in front of the car.
Maneuvering the little sports car back into its original position, Jeremiah leapt out, running towards the severed car door where it now lay on the ground. Welder appeared at his side as he lifted it, and together, they dragged it up and over the cars, inside the barricade. Others joined them, and with their help, they quickly dragged it up the stairs of the building, setting it in front of Ferris. A crude shield. Jeremiah knelt behind it, hoping it would be enough.
Just seconds later, two Regulator vehicles came into sight. Shots fired instantly. Jeremiah ducked behind the car door, shouting at his men, “Hold your fire!” They didn’t have bullets to waste. “Wait until they’re closer! Aim!” They stopped firing. But now the Regs, alerted to the fact that they had weapons, were firing back, filling the air with loud volleys. As their cars came within reach of his men’s bullets, Jeremiah yelled, “Now!”
Pulling his crude defense closer to the door, Jeremiah tried his best to shield Ferris. “Don’t stop!” he yelled at the boy over the shooting. “Get us in!” Voices yelled on both sides. The gunshots were deafening.
A bullet clipped Jeremiah’s finger where he held the edge of the door. He hissed in pain. Finding a grip along the handle on the inside of the door, he held his place. The wound stung, but he forced himself to hold on with his injured hand while he moved to pull his gun out with the other. The blood made his grip slippery.
He peeked out from behind the shield and took a shot as they closed in. A Regulator fired back. They had the advantage of years of training for this. Their aim was too good. With Jeremiah’s dominant hand injured, he was forced to shoot with the weaker, and wished he’d spent more time shooting with both hands. More time shooting in general.
“I’ve almost got it!” Ferris yelled as Jeremiah leaned out to shoot again. Jeremiah got off a shot that hit one of the Regulator’s cars, making the man duck back inside his vehicle, but that only drew the Regs attention to him. A bullet shattered the window of the car and hit Jeremiah in the shoulder.
Clenching his teeth at the pain, Jeremiah pulled back, gun dropping to his side. He thought for a moment the bullet had only grazed his shoulder, but one glance showed a hole that bled profusely. He could still move the arm, barely. Holding the door with fingers that struggled to keep their grip, he felt with his other hand for an exit wound. There wasn’t one.
Kneeling behind the shield, he made himself as small as possible, needing to use his good hand to hold the door now. As much as he wanted to shoot, the priority was getting the news station door open. If he dropped the shield, they would hit Ferris. His shoulder wound burned, drowning out the pain in his fingers.
As Jeremiah shifted his position, another bullet hit his toe where his boot peeked out. Yelling in pain, nearly dropping the car door, he dragged his foot in just before another bullet hit the concrete where it had been. He sucked in a breath. It stung. But he didn’t have time to inspect the damage. He focused on holding the shield up.
Jeremiah’s company all wore the armored vests created by Hofyn’s brightest, so he didn’t understand why Welder had most of the men hidden behind the cars, not firing, until the Regs stopped their vehicles at the barricade and climbed out, and the man shouted, “Now!” The entire company jumped out in ambush, except one young soldier, Ion, who lay on the ground.
The four Regulators were taken by surprise at how many of the rebels there were. They got off a few hits before they were shot down. Since the Regs were trained to shoot at the heart, most of Jeremiah’s soldiers were simply winded, thanks to the vests. The low Number healers, the best medical training their army had, immediately turned to aid the wounded.
They’d bought themselves a little more time. How much, Jeremiah didn’t know. It depended on if the Regs had radioed their headquarters or not. Ferris still struggled with the lock. Minutes ticked by. Everyone stood tense, waiting. Too soon, they heard the roar of more cars headed in their direction. Jeremiah held his position, ignoring the sting of his wounds, while Welder reorganized the group to execute the same maneuver once more.
The fight began anew. Shots fired, and another soldier clutched her arm where the bullet hit. Jeremiah tensed behind the car door, waiting to be spotted. Though it felt like hours, the fight had barely lasted a minute before Ferris hollered, “I’ve got it! We’re in!”
Jeremiah felt Ferris disappear behind him. Half standing, still behind the car door, he backed up inside after the boy until the car door forced him to stop at the door frame, too large to pass through without turning it sideways. Calling out to his soldiers from where he stood in the threshold, Jeremiah only had time to yell half a command to Welder before he felt something sharp hit him in the back near his shoulder, hitting right where his own protective vest ended.
He came to lying on his back on the ground somewhere indoors. He couldn’t make out any details about the room except the white ceiling and the faces of his men staring down at him. A piercing white light streaked through his vision on and off, matching the throbbing in his back. They yelled for a healer. It must be bad. Gunshots had stopped outside. They must have successfully stopped the second assault. But there would be more.
He saw Larimar at the edge of his vision. “Where’s Welder?” he managed to ask.
“He’s hurt bad, not waking up,” Larimar replied, eyes squinting in worry. “We’ve lost two men, and nine wounded, including yourself, sir.” His eyes landed on someone else in the room as he yelled, “Somebody get that gun and hold him!” In his haze, Jeremiah saw one of the station employees, who stood shaking over a smoking gun on the floor. He was pale, hands over his mouth like he might vomit. Well. That explained the searing pain exploding across Jeremiah’s upper-back and shoulder. He’d been attacked from behind.
The employee was quickly apprehended and dragged out of Jeremiah’s line of sight. He closed his eyes. It was hard to focus on anything past the pain. His back was on fire. It was absolute agony. He prayed to pass out, but continued to feel every piercing red-hot poker. “We need to roll him over. Check if there’s an exit wound,” a new voice told Larimar.
His friend agreed. Jeremiah floated on a cloud of pain as hands gripped his sides, preparing to move him. He tried to speak, to tell them no, but the energy evaded him. As they rolled him, the pain assaulted him so heavily he gratefully felt himself blacking out once more.
But it didn’t last. The nerves and muscle around the wounds were screaming even as he woke. Why couldn’t he focus? This newest injury must be serious. Jeremiah forced his eyes open, but couldn’t see anything while lying on his stomach. Someone’s crumpled shirt was under his head acting as a pillow, cushioning his face from the hard cement floor. It smelled like sweat. The fire in his back raged.
“We need to dig it out,” said a voice behind him.
“No!” His stern yell came out in a whisper. He couldn’t pass out
again. Rational thought was returning, and he knew with Welder down, the men needed a leader.
The face belonging to the voice bent down so that he could see the man in his line of sight – one of his healers. He’d brought the man along as a backup. Never expected to need his services himself.
“You’re very lucky,” the healer was saying. “You could have died. You still might. Now shut up and be still, or you still will.”
“Wait!” Jeremiah’s command still held some authority. “Larimar!”
Larimar’s face replaced the healer’s in his vision. His friend was frowning in concern. “Yes, Captain. We’re still holding, but we don’t have enough men to last much longer.”
The healer began to clean Jeremiah’s shoulder wound. He sucked in a breath at the cleaning, closing his eyes to the pain. “You’re in charge now,” he told the man, who’d worked under Welder for years now. Though Larimar was anxious at the unexpected authority, he would lead well. “Radio the rest of our company. Tell them to run or steal transportation, but to get here as fast as they can.” His voice was ragged, but he forced himself to continue. “Radio Flint’s company to send some men as well. The news station is more important than Regulator Headquarters.” He choked as the healer wrapped a bandage around his arm. “And find out how far Luc and the other ship have to go. They should have arrived by now.”
“I need to get that bullet out,” he heard the healer saying to Larimar.
They spoke over him, but Jeremiah repeated himself as loudly as he could, straining against the intense heat in his back. “We can’t lose the station!”
Larimar’s face came back into his line of sight once more, and he nodded. “I know. I’ll do what I can. You focus on staying alive.” He disappeared, already calling out orders for men to radio backup. But Jeremiah didn’t think they would get there in time.
The healer dug into his back. A scream of pain ripped out of Jeremiah. Everything flashed light and dark. He begged the healer to stop, fighting to stay conscious, as a sharp instrument tortured the open wound on his back. Shredded muscles and broken skin screamed in pain, his body refusing to endure it any longer. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from passing out.
33
Coming Back to Eden
“EVIE, WE’RE HERE!” EVALENE opened her eyes to find Olive standing over her. Her field of vision was still narrowed to the bunk in front of her and the wall behind it, ignoring the rest of the room, and she pulled the bucket closer out of habit, but she didn’t need it. The rocking wasn’t as bad now.
“What time is it? We made it?” Evalene stretched a little, blinking awake.
Olive bounced nervously onto the springy mattress across from her. “We got in at dawn, but they had to leave right away. Something’s happening at the news station. They wouldn’t tell me what. All Luc would say was, ‘we don’t have time to watch over two defenseless girls. We need everyone who can fight. We’ll come back and get you.’” Olive’s imitation of Luc wasn’t nearly as flattering as it would’ve been a few days ago. Maybe his allure was finally wearing thin.
At first, staying on the ship sounded like great news. They wouldn’t have to fight. But as Evalene’s stomach squeezed sharply, she closed her eyes and groaned. They couldn’t get off the boat? How long would the fighting last? A day? A week? Maybe even a couple weeks?
“It should be calmer now that we’ve docked,” Olive said, trying to comfort her. She hopped from her bunk onto Evalene’s to pat her on the shoulder, unwittingly bumping the bed and disturbing Evalene’s stomach more.
It was true. The rocking motion of the boat was less now than out on the open sea. Evalene groaned, but pulled herself up to sitting. The room spun.
“Hey, you feel better!” Olive said, jumping up, rocking the little bed all over again.
“Sort of,” Evalene said, although it wasn’t much different. She moved slowly, dizzy, setting her feet on the floor. “How long have they been gone? Can we go up to the top deck? I think that would help.”
“Just an hour or so,” Olive said and stood. “Sure, let’s go.” Leading the way on light feet, she passed the bunks, through the galley, and up the steps. Evalene wobbled after her. The floor felt slightly crooked, but the urge to empty her stomach lessened as she gulped deep breaths of ocean air.
Evalene stared out at the crowded city of Delmare. The walls built up throughout the city blocked her view of the streets. But far away, in the heart of the city, orange flames flickered, swallowing up one of the wall towers, smoke billowing out around it and the nearby buildings. “What’s happening?” Evalene whispered.
Olive came to stand next to her at the railing, leaning against it and staring out at the nearby city. “I think that’s the Regulator Headquarters,” she said. “Luc was supposed to send half his company there when we landed, but at the last minute, something came up and they all headed for the news station.”
Evalene tore her eyes away from the chaos to look at Olive. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Olive frowned. “I know. I wish there was something we could do to help. They’re headed there now, but I don’t know if they’ll make it in time unless they find a faster way than walking.”
Neither of the girls moved for a few minutes. They were anchored far enough out to feel separate from the awful scene. The deep blue waves peacefully lapped at the bottom of the ship. Evalene felt a twinge of relief that she didn’t yet have to step foot back in Eden. Suddenly Olive ducked below the railing, jerking hard on Evalene’s arm. “Get down!”
Evalene let Olive pull her to the ground, scanning the docks as she did. “Why? What’s going on?”
“There’s a Regulator on the shore! He was looking right at us!” Olive sounded more afraid than Evalene had ever heard her. “Luc told me to stay below, but I didn’t think it was a big deal because I thought they’d taken the docks. I’m sorry Evie...”
Her words hit Evalene squarely in the chest, taking away her breath. They’d been discovered? Already?
Maybe Olive was seeing things. Steeling herself, Evalene crawled to the left, away from Olive about a dozen feet. Cautiously, she peeked over the railing.
Sure enough, there was a man wearing black. Not only was he staring directly at their ship, but he was waving to someone behind him. More men in black uniforms poured out of an alleyway into the harbor. A few were already running towards a smaller motorboat. It would take them less than a minute to reach the ship.
Evalene gasped and ducked below the railing again.
“What did you see?” Olive hissed.
Shaking her head, Evalene just said, “They’re coming.”
“We can hide!” Olive said, copying Evalene’s crawl and scuttling over to her. “We can stack the boxes again! Or we could go down to the galley, find some place deep in the bottom of the ship where it’s dark—”
“No,” Evalene said, searching for an escape. “They saw us. They won’t give up –” An idea struck her. “Olive, are there any lifeboats left?” Ships like this had dozens, enough to carry every passenger on the vessel if necessary. But had the rebels taken all of them?
The girls rushed together across the deck to the side of the ship that faced the ocean. Hanging above the water, tied tightly to the ship, were two small boats.
Thinking quickly, Evalene took the ties holding the closest boat against the ship and frantically started pulling them loose. Waving to Olive, she hissed “Help me lower it!” Olive imitated her, unravelling the ties on the opposite side. As soon as it was loose, they climbed into the boat where it hung midair, and spun the wheels that lowered the boat onto the ocean until the shore was out of sight.
Evalene struggled to find her balance, feeling queasy. It was a long shot, but the tangle of boats along the shoreline might offer enough cover if they could reach another ship. Maybe. The lifeboats weren’t powered with an engine, but that would’ve just given away their position anyway, and they had only seconds before the Regulators re
ached this side of the ship in their boat. “Grab a paddle,” Evalene said, lifting one herself and thrusting it into the water. “This will only work if we’re out of sight before they reach this side of the ship.”
They dug into the waves on both sides.
Breathless, Evalene glanced back as they rounded the front of the ship. No other boat had appeared yet. Whipping back to face the front, Evalene forced her burning arms to paddle harder, faster. They passed in front of the ship, and Evalene breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short lived. Only some of the Regulators were in pursuit, and those left on shore spotted them immediately.
Evalene and Olive froze as weapons were trained on them. Hands in the air, they sat in the boat as it bobbed up and down in the water, drifting closer and closer to shore with the current.
Four men in pursuit appeared on a motorboat. One of them yelled, and Evalene flinched, expecting to feel the shot any second. But nothing hit them.
The metal side of the Regulator’s motorboat thunked into the wood of their little lifeboat. Two of the men boarded their craft. Evalene gritted her teeth against the pain as her arms were wrenched behind her back. She felt the harsh sting of a rope around her wrists, tying her hands together.
If they spoke to her, she didn’t hear. Her ears were ringing and her heartbeat muffled all sound, tears blurring her vision.
She pictured herself hanging from a rope by the end of the day.
Why had she agreed to come?
“Evie. Evie!” Olive’s voice broke through. “Evie, what’s going to happen?”
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