by J. L. Smith
I took a small step backwards, which only caused the dog to growl more, froth dripping from its open mouth. “You got a gun?” I asked.
“No,” she responded.
Just then, we heard the sound of another vehicle and I half turned in the direction of our friends to see the actors arriving. My relief was short-lived, for the engine of their great truck drowned out hope of anyone else hearing the rabid dog’s growls. If we shouted for help, we risked alarming the dog further and getting bitten in the process.
“What should we do?” Susie asked, still utterly motionless. “Run?”
The dog was slowly edging towards us, snarling low, the saliva trickling from its mouth.
“On three, we run,” I whispered back. “One, two, three.”
We ran for our lives towards our friends, out of the deserted yard of the town hall and towards the trucks.
“Kieran!” Susie shouted as we ran, seeing him nearing the front of our truck. He turned in the direction of her voice, just as Susie crashed to the ground, having stumbled over a rock.
I skidded to a halt, pulling Susie up by the arm, but not before the dog was upon us, baring its teeth mere inches from my leg. I kicked at it, my boot connecting with its head. It whined in response, coming back with renewed vigor, as it sunk its teeth into my boot, causing me to fall to the ground.
“Shoot,” I screamed, kicking at the dog, while Susie tried to pull me from its grip.
The dog kept its teeth fastened on my boot, dragging me with incredible strength.
“Kieran!” Susie shouted again, but even as she yelled it, I heard the sound of a gun firing, felt the tug of the dog go limp in an instant.
It was dead, lying at my feet, while Kieran stood a few yards away, his gun still in position for the kill.
“Are you okay?” Susie still shouted, shock in her voice.
“I think so,” I replied shakily, as Kieran rushed towards us, nudging the dog with his boot to see whether it was really dead.
“Are you guys okay?” he questioned again, looking from me to Susie.
“We’re okay,” I said, my voice still not sounding like my own.
The others came towards us in a hurry, Rayder running ahead of the rest. He assessed the situation with quick eyes and dropped to his knees, pulling off my boot. I gulped, seeing that the boot was torn and the sock visible. “Did it bite you?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.
“I don’t think so,” I said, my hands trembling where they rested on my leg. “I didn’t feel anything.”
He tore my sock off, inspecting my foot. “Light!” he ordered and Neal complied, switching on a torch and pointing it at my foot. Turning my foot this way and that, I felt his tense hands relax as he said, “You’re fine.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“What a way to get this party started!” It was Aidan, standing just behind Rayder, dressed in a black leather jacket and pants.
Rayder stood up, clenched his fists and said heatedly, “It’s comments like that that make me surprised someone hasn’t ripped your head off yet!”
“Not for lack of trying,” Aidan winked, but backed away, seeing Rayder’s anger.
I stood up, testing my ankle, which only hurt a little, before touching Rayder’s arm. He looked at me, the anger still in his eyes, but it faded when I said, “Everything’s okay.”
He nodded and Susie said seriously, “Guys, let’s give them a second,” before walking in the direction of our trucks.
The others followed and I called after Kieran, thanking him.
“No worries,” he said, looking a little sadly at the dead dog.
“Sorry,” Rayder said, when we were alone.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I said, as he brushed my cheek briefly.
“I thought you were bitten,” he added, the rage out of his voice.
“I’m all good,” I said smiling, even though I still felt shaken.
“I can’t lose you,” he said, almost to himself, his voice so strained, the emotion in it surprised me. “Or anyone else on this mission,” he added quickly.
“And you won’t,” I replied, promising something which I knew was not mine to promise.
“Yeah,” he nodded, seeming to snap out of his own thoughts. “It’ll be fine,” he continued, which I was sure was for my benefit. He smiled roguishly then, looking less worried, and said, “I wouldn’t mind losing Aidan.”
I laughed and elbowed him lightly, “Don’t be a jerk!”
Tugging his hand, we walked towards the pickup trucks, to take the next step on our journey to Balen’s fortress. It took an hour for us to get organized for our journey, as we moved our possessions from our vehicle to that the actors had brought along. It was mammoth, easily double my height with three rows of seating in the cab and a long tail to store our luggage and the seven actors. They were dressed as we were, all in black with thick boots and jackets, but their faces were streaked with black paint, which Aidan said was necessary to get into character. I assumed they merely liked to add to the drama of it all. Yet, despite their profession, they were more subdued than they had been at their camp, which I could only imagine meant that they too were afraid of what lay ahead. Questions bounced around the group as we packed, heightening my own sense of apprehension.
“What if Balen or one of the runners recognizes you?” Stef asked Mabel, as she bit her nails watching Kieran lift a crate onto the truck.
Mabel shrugged, readjusting the black beanie which covered her pink hair, “Balen’s never seen us perform. There’s a chance some of the runners may have, but who’s to say we couldn’t be actors as well as a motorbike gang?”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Jody added, strapping a tiny knife to the inside of her boot. “Balen’s runners don’t strike me as theater types.”
“I guess,” Stef replied, worrying her bottom lip.
“Hey,” Kieran put his arm around her and tugged gently, “relax. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah,” she smiled at him, but I could see concern written all over her face.
We worked in silence then, loading the vehicle up, until it was time for the actors to take their places in the cargo bed as our prisoners.
“This is going to suck,” Ranic grumbled, climbing onto the back of the truck behind Aidan.
“Ten hours, right?” Christal asked, looking almost respectable in comparison to her revealing chef’s outfit of a few nights earlier.
“Yeah,” Aidan replied, trying to sound chipper. “Think of it as a character-building exercise. Get into the psyche of the captured bikers.”
“Probably could do that in an hour,” Christal griped in response.
“Or think of the money,” Jody said.
Mabel cast an irritable look in Jody’s direction, “Or, the chance to off Balen.”
“That too,” Jody shrugged, readjusting her purple braids into a headband.
“Should we chain you up now or wait until sunrise?” Rayder interrupted, as the actors settled in the cargo bed.
“Now,” Aidan responded, as Christal replied that sunrise would do. “Guys,” Aidan continued, sounding serious, “there is no room to make mistakes here. We’re prisoners from this point onwards.”
“Yeah, okay,” Christal said sullenly, pouting at Rayder as he jumped onto the back of the truck, chains in hand. “But, for the record,” she looked at the chain distastefully, “nothing’s going to happen between us after this. No matter how much you beg.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Rayder responded, before adding. “We should probably gag you too.”
“Haha,” Christal replied sarcastically.
“Just the chains for now, mate,” Aidan said.
Within minutes, they were locked up, wrists and feet bound, while another chain secured each of them to the vehicle. It was almost half past one in the morning by the time we were ready to set off. My eyes stung with my need
to sleep – the last few nights had yielded little in the way of decent rest. Wishing the actors luck, which apparently was strictly forbidden in theater circles, where they would far rather break a leg, we climbed into the comfort of the cab.
“I’m warning you guys,” Susie said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder, “I’m going to snore.”
“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Stef asked Rayder.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied.
“I think he’s a vampire, anyway,” Susie said, closing her eyes as Rayder switched on the ignition. “I’ve seen him sleeping like once in the last year.”
“Vampires sleep during the day, don’t they?” Kieran muttered, closing his eyes too. “And he doesn’t do that either.”
“Hmm,” Susie murmured, already drifting off to sleep.
I followed them into slumber land, sleeping fitfully through the bumpy night. At one point, perhaps at around three or four in the morning, Rayder ended up beside me, as Kieran drove. I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling just a little bit safer, as we made our way towards hell.
The last few hours of our trip, as the sun lit up the land, were quiet. Mostly, I watched the red earth drifting by, the landscape becoming more mountainous as we neared Balen’s fortress.
“Home sweet home,” I heard Rayder mutter at one point and all I could do was squeeze his hand.
My heart felt as if it were in my throat, my pulse beating wildly the closer we drew to Balen. We passed not a soul in the quiet of early morning, but as we entered the final hour or two of our journey, slowly we were joined by other vehicles, all of us with the same destination. Our truck wound cautiously through the undulating landscape on a dirt road barely wide enough to accommodate us. The earth climbed higher, the cliffs becoming steeper and causing my stomach to churn if I looked out of the window as we twisted and turned up and up.
“I didn’t realize Balen’s fortress was so high up,” Stef commented, gazing across the starkness of the eternal red rocks.
“It makes sense,” Neal replied quietly, “offering his fortress maximum protection.”
“Not for long,” Kieran added, causing my stomach to turn again in anticipation.
“How much longer?” Susie asked, sounding child-like, but I could hear the nerves in her voice.
“By my calculations,” Neal responded, looking down at the piece of paper he had scribbled on throughout our journey, “ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Time for me to get out,” Saffron said calmly, nodding at Rayder.
He was at the wheel again and began to slow down. “There’s another truck not far behind us, so you okay to jump out?”
“Of course,” she said, as if it were entirely obvious.
Rayder slowed our vehicle further and added, “Be careful, okay.”
“You too,” she said. “I’ll see you guys soon.” With a quick parting look at each of us, she added, “Dibs on killing Balen.”
With that, she leaped from the vehicle, which was just about stationary, and we all turned to see her squatting behind us on the road.
“She’ll be fine,” Stef said, as if responding to a question she had posed in the quiet of her own mind.
“I’m not worried about her for a second,” Susie declared. “If there’s anyone who can take care of herself, it’s Saff.”
“Damn straight,” Kieran concurred.
But, as I watched Saffron disappear as we rounded another corner, I knew there was nothing any of us could be sure of anymore.
Chapter 17
With Saffron behind us and the fortress before us, with the so-called Lost Kids chained to our trailer, there could be no denying that our greatest fight lay ahead. My stomach knotted as we twisted around the dusty red hairpin turns, all of us waiting for Balen’s fortress to come into view. And then it did.
“Whoa,” Kieran muttered, biting his nails, perhaps unconsciously.
“Yeah,” Rayder replied, the only one of us inside that vehicle who had ever seen the fortress before.
It towered over the rocky terrain below, the golden and gray brickwork spiraling heavenwards. An outer staircase followed the central spiral towards the wispy clouds, petering out at the very top of the fortress, where sentries were dotted, no doubt fully armed. Beautiful arches adorned the staircase, offering a brief view inside, although I could only make out darkness. It was huge, easily twenty stories high, with gardens visible here and there on the different levels. On the base level were various other outbuildings, dome-shaped rooms and decorative spires. Draping the fortress were great red flags, flapping languidly in the breeze, signaling the start of the blessing festival. They reminded me rather too vividly of blood and I had to look away. Surrounding it all was a thick wall, fastened to the sturdy rock beneath, making it seem one and the same with the earth below. And then there was the road leading towards it all, a single lane snaking up to the fortress, packed with vehicles, motorcycles and quadbikes awaiting entry.
We slowed our pace, winding up that road, ready to take our place in the queue.
“They’re stripping everyone of their weapons,” Stef commented, craning her neck in an effort to see ahead.
“As expected,” Rayder replied, sounding a little too relaxed, although his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
“Still,” Stef added, “I was hoping we’d get to keep our guns.”
“We’ll get to keep our knives,” Susie consoled, tapping Stef lightly on the knee.
Our knives were inserted into the soles of our boots through a hidden slit in the leather. It meant they were small, but it was better than nothing and would most likely go undetected.
“Neal,” Stef continued, “are you sure about the bombs?”
“In what capacity?” Neal responded calmly.
“That they won’t be found?”
“I can’t say with absolute certainly,” Neal said, “but it’s unlikely.”
Like our knives, Neal had produced tiny microbombs which screwed into the underside of the soles of his thick boots. Looking at his boots, one would never suspect that he was quite literally treading on a whole pile of explosives. Each bomb housed a miniscule chip, allowing Neal the ability to communicate with them by way of the mere touch of a button, which would set them off with a great blast. Since the day I had met him, he’d been fiddling with his bombs, having perfected his masterpiece in the form of a pair of boots which could cause the death of thousands of people. Our plan relied heavily upon Neal’s boots. Without them, the battle could well be lost. It was an intricate balance of factors which could go wrong at any time. The seers needed to curse the organ harvesting trade and rattle the runners. The bombs needed to add insult to injury and take matters from unsettled to chaotic. The chaos needed to work in our favor and let us take out the leaders. But, before all of this could happen, we needed to get close to Balen. We needed to see as much of the fortress as possible. We needed him to believe we had captured the riders he so desperately sought.
I gulped, thinking of what we were heading towards. Putting on as brave a voice as I could manage, I said, “I’m sure Neal will get them in. He’s the smartest guy we know. He’s got this.”
“Come on, Stef,” Susie added, “does Neal look like the type of guy to blow up a fortress?”
Stef giggled nervously, almost gratefully.
“Hey,” Kieran said, “on the bright side for them, I guess they’ll learn not to judge a book by its cover.”
“Only time will tell,” Neal said, his gaze fixed ahead.
I glanced at the actors behind us, noting the defiant looks on their faces as they peered up at the fortress. I could only hope it was because they were in character.
Rayder drew our vehicle to a stop behind a group of close on a dozen bikers. “It’s go time,” he said softly, turning to face each one of us. “We’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Each of us has our reasons for being here. Let’s make i
t count.”
“Damn straight,” Kieran growled.
“Be smart,” Rayder added. “Weigh each risk up and take only those that are critical to the mission’s success.” He looked down for a moment, as if unsure about what he was going to say next. Then, he added, “We all know there’s a chance some or all of us might not make it.” You could have heard a pin drop in our vehicle. “I just want you guys to know, it’s been a privilege having each of you as part of this team.”
“A privilege to be led by you, Ray,” Susie said, sounding as serious as I had ever heard her.
There were nods of assent as we all echoed Susie’s praise in our own words.
Rayder nodded slowly, before giving a smile full of all the violence that lay before us, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
He honked the vehicle’s horn then, sticking his head out of the truck’s window. “Hey!” he called to a man idling his motorbike in front of us.
The man turned, lifted the visor of his helmet and revealed a face ugly as sin. “What’s your problem?” he shouted aggressively, as the rest of the motorcycle pack ahead of us turned to stare.
“No problem,” Rayder returned, his voice bearing the accent associated with the lower classes. “You see these kids on the back of my truck?”
The man gave something like a grunt, but he appeared interested. He turned his engine off, hopping down from his bike. Unhurriedly, he made his way towards us, and my heartbeat sped up a notch with each step he took. “So, what?” the man said, spitting a piece of tobacco beside our vehicle as he glanced at the actors. “What’s it to me?”
“Nothing to you,” Rayder conceded nonchalantly, “but a lot to Balen, I’m guessing.”
“Who they?” the man asked, as two of his friends, equally offensive on the eyes, joined him.
“We got a problem here?” the tallest of the three asked, cracking his knuckles.
“Nope,” Rayder said. “I was just about to tell your buddy here that we’ve got those motorbike kids Balen’s looking for.”
“These kids in the back here?” the first man questioned, the pockmarks covering his face visible now, as he was so close to us.