The Choice (The Gamble Series Book 2)

by Kathryn Jacques

  The dark lantern bangs against my leg, I can’t light it until I’m far enough from the safehouse no one will see the flame. The leather bag slaps at my back and the larger gun hangs bulky and awkward around my shoulder. I try to focus on those mundane kinds of things inside of the path on which I’m about to embark. Like when I left ROC, there will be no turning back.

  I put on a brave face for Rey’s benefit, and to convince him to stay, but the truth is that I'm terrified. I'm terrified to leave the safety of the house, even if Elijah's made it inside, and I'm even more frightened to leave Jax and Rey behind. I don’t know what will happen next. I’m not even sure what I want to happen next, but I can’t stay at the safehouse and I definitely can’t stay at the Risers’ compound and put all of those people at risk.

  My decision is for the best, I can't argue that. I need my friends, especially Jax and Rey, to be safe. In a best-case scenario, this will all be over in a few days and things can return to whatever definition of normal we have until we attack ROC. Maybe after all this, everyone will be so grateful we survived the League and Sawyer and Elijah, we'll leave ROC alone.

  And then I wish I had never left ROC. Charlie's compound wouldn't be a charred wasteland, Daniel would be alive, Charlie’s people wouldn’t have been fractured by opposing views over what to do with a Sub, Jax would be... Jax, Rey would be living on his own in the woods and all those people who died in our war with the League; all because of me; would never have been killed. All I've done is brought death and destruction in my wake because I was too childish and immature to overcome grief. I can’t continue to allow that to happen.

  "I should have just married stupid Wyatt Walker," I grumble to the darkened forest, as I climb over a thick fallen log slippery with early morning dew. Wyatt sucks, but compared to Elijah, he would have been prince charming.

  It's too late though. I played a betting game, others have paid the price. I tried to run from the Gamble, but in its own way, it followed right behind. I guess we can't escape the outcome of our choices, no matter how hard we try.

  Now I face them head on. It's time to grow up and begin to fix all the problems I've caused. I'll start with Elijah and once that's over, and if I survive, I need to decide between Jax or Rey. I know I said I was waiting until after ROC, but I can't do this to them anymore. It isn't fair. Perhaps I shouldn't be with either until I figure out who I am and what I want and I choose to stop running and hiding from the things I'm too afraid to tackle. Maybe it means I am never with either of them at all. Looking at it now, I guess I was too young to fall in love and take on the responsibilities it requires.

  It'll break my heart, and their hearts too, but really, we're already broken anyway. What's another chip at this point? Both of them are good looking and so full of life and personality, they'll be ok. They'll love again and then all three of us can be friends and someday we'll be thirty years old laughing at all of this.

  * * *

  As the sun peeks over the horizon and wanders through its daily path, I spend the entire trip in a constant state of unease. Every shadow is Elijah lying in wait. Every rustle in the bushes is his final attack. Every tree branch tugging on my shirt is part of an elaborate trap. Tense and on edge, my gaze whips back and forth through the trees, and dense underbrush lining the almost invisible path. My heart hammers and hands shake and if one more creature startles me, I might throw up and pass out from the fear.

  Any confidence I had with this plan is gone within the first hour as I force my feet to continue onward. I am completely alone. If Elijah follows me, this would be the perfect time for him to attack and I remind myself over and over again that I don’t think he will. He’s going to bid his time. He’s going to see where I go and devise a scheme to torture me. He doesn’t just want me dead, he wants me begging for it. That can’t happen if he fires a bullet through my head in the middle of the woods, there’s no enjoyment for him in doing that. Still, I need him to wait long enough until I get to my destination. I need to be in familiar territory if I am to win this battle.

  By dusk, fatigued to the point of almost collapsing and my nerves so tattered I’ve gone numb, I arrive at the mangled gates of Charlie's old compound.

  The stone wall still stands with its barbed wire top, mostly untouched by the fire, but as I venture beyond the damaged gates, my heart sinks. Nearly all the buildings have become nothing more than charred, blackened rubble; the long school house Nadia was so happy to go to, the food warehouse, Charlie's little yellow farm house, all gone and replaced by piles of ruins. The weapons' stash had been raided and the metal walls of the building bashed and beaten until they collapsed in on themselves. Even the grassy areas and gardens were trampled and ripped apart, so the once colorful landscape is now a slush pile of mud and rocks and debris.

  A place that had stood for over a hundred years, providing shelter and protection to so many people, reduced to almost nothing.

  Because of me.

  I try to shove aside the guilt, I have no time for it, not while Elijah lays in wait, but it gnaws at me anyway. Charlie's compound is one more reminder of all the destruction I've caused because I wanted to see the sky for one ridiculous second.

  At the back corner of the property, some of the wooden cabins still stand, the League probably figured they were already so damaged, what was the point in setting them ablaze? Cabin number thirteen is among those select few that survived.

  "And I have come full circle," I mutter staring at the tiny, wooden rectangle with a hole in its roof. The same cabin in which I was held prisoner when I first arrived on the surface, Jax and Daniel my guards. Now, when I need them most, one's dead and the other is miles away. Gazing in dismay at the dilapidated cabin before me, I take note of the rotted and moldy wood panels coated in a layer of dark soot. I would have been perfectly happy never seeing it again.

  Easing open the flimsy door, I find the space exactly as I left it with the rickety bed in one corner, a bucket-turned-chamber pot in another and the chair placed beside the door. There's even a pile of torn roof shingles on the floor on the opposite side from my failed escape attempt that seems like a lifetime ago.

  Dropping my pack and gun to the floor beside the bed, I notice brown spots on the wood slats and realize they're droplets of my blood from when Jax cut out the tracker in my arm. Subconsciously, I rub my fingers over the raised scar across my barcode. I can't believe it was only a month ago. So much has changed. I've changed. People have died, Rey has returned from the dead. It seems surreal, like a dream. Or a terrible nightmare. Or both, I guess.

  My head spins and I lay on the bed, closing my eyes to clear my mind. I need to be focused and ready. Whatever I'm feeling I need to use it to fuel my hatred of Elijah. He’s smart and cunning and far more adept at battle than I’ll ever be. I am certain he saw me runaway from the safehouse and has followed. There’s no doubt in my mind he was watching, waiting to see what I did next so he can execute his plan.

  But I will not let him win. I will not let him take any more lives. I'll avenge all those deaths; Daniel, Ethan, the ROC prisoners murdered before my eyes, even Ashlynn because despite her betrayal, she never deserved what Elijah did to her.

  I stare at the weathered rafters of the ceiling. Black soot from the fire has collected in the dust and cobwebs overhead. The smell still hangs in the air even all these weeks later, combined with the scents of damp wood and decaying plants. This place is no longer a sanctuary. It has now become a graveyard of withered wildlife and vacant ruins.

  I miss Jax and Rey horribly and feel vulnerable without them here. I know it's for the best and they're safe, but it doesn't change the fact I feel alone, more than I've ever felt. I feel the way I did when I sat in the dark tunnel of ROC, trapped between a past I all but destroyed and a future that very well might destroy me. But I find solace in the fact that one way or the other, in a few days it will be done. One way or another, I won’t have to be afraid anymore.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
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  For three days I’ve lived in the compound, jumping at every shift in the tree branches, startling at every tiny noise. I’ve rationed my food and water, but eventually it will run out. I’ve slept with the semi-automatic at my side, the handgun under my pillow and a knife in my boots. I’ve slept in my boots so I can run out of here at a moment’s notice.

  And still no sign of Elijah. For three entire days.

  A part of me wonders if maybe he really didn’t follow me. Maybe he’s left me to my own devices knowing I’ll starve to death on my own or be forced to go crawling back to the safehouse. Maybe that’s all part of his plan or none of it and I don’t even know what to think anymore because I’m so exhausted, I can’t get my head to work right anymore.

  Today the world is grey, the sky threatening rain and a drop in temperature causing a dense fog to form. It twists and hovers through the trees, obscuring anything more than a few feet away and giving the woods an eerie, uncomfortable feel. The drab color reminds me of ROC and its monotonous steely grayness, and I find myself breathing heavier, as if those prison walls are closing around me.

  I need fresh air so I force myself up from the squeaking bed and step outside. I veer towards the front of the compound, blocking out the damage that pains me to see and heading for the main gates to survey the forest for any sign of that red-haired psychopath.

  One of the gates was badly dented by the League when they infiltrated the walls, and now hangs lopsided on its hinges, unable to fully open or close. A vine has woven it's way through the bars, twisting up the metal to reach the sky.

  A pile of rocks fallen from the top of the wall rests just outside the broken gate. From the rubble, a sapling has grown, no taller than four feet and boasting only six branches and a scattering of tiny green leaves. I reach through the bars of the gate and run my fingers over a leaf; cool and smooth against my skin.

  Allowing my eyes to float over the dark, still woods, I shudder as if I know Elijah watches me; stalking and plotting. I can feel his malicious gaze boring into me, the barrel of his gun leveled with my head, and it's all I can do to not turn and run back to the comfort of my cabin.

  But he's not going to shoot me. Not here, like this. That much I know with certainty. He's going to want something much more intricate and painful. Something he can drag out. This is a hunting game for him, and I am the prey.

  Suddenly a frustration and rages wells up from inside the anxiety. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be afraid of the woods I was once so happy to see and hating the world I was once willing to die to experience. I should be with Jax and Rey and Nadia back at the Risers’ compound enjoying everything the surface has to offer and the freedom that comes with it.

  "Come out you damn coward!" I scream, my shrill voice surprising even myself. "I know you're there! Come out and let's finish this! I’m right here you disgusting monster!"

  The trees remain silent and unmoving, the fog dense and flat. I scan the foliage for any hint of red hair because if I catch even one glimpse, I’ll attack him right now. I’ll crash through these woods and rip him apart with my bare hands if it means this can end today.

  In anger, I pluck a loose rock from the wall and hurl it into the underbrush. Leaves rustle and branches crack as it hops and rolls away from sight, frightening a small squirrel.

  "Hey, kid!" someone calls, causing my stomach to hollow out with fear. I flip around, hands balled into fists at my sides, to see Ryder strolling toward me from the direction of the former weapons storehouse. At first I think I am hallucinating, staring at him with my mouth agape and eyes blinking in surprise.

  "What are you doing?" he demands.

  “Ryder, what… how… what are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don’t end up dead.”

  I utter confusion, I search around the compound to see if more people appear; Nole or Rey or even Jax.

  “It’s just me. I followed you when you left the safehouse.”

  I face Ryder again, a look of incredulity plastered on my face. “You saw me leave?”

  “You gave up too easily. That last night when you agreed to go back to the Risers’. I knew you’d be up to somethin’ so I packed up a bag of my own and waited in the woods. Sure enough, there you went, crashin’ through the forest tryin’ to get yourself killed so I followed and hid myself in that wrecked dump over there to keep an eye on you.”

  Anger swirls inside me and I clench my jaw, teeth barred. “You’re the reason my plan hasn’t worked.”

  “Oh yeah? And what exactly was the plan? Stay here till you starve? Or until you’re so weak Elijah can take his pick of how to kill you? What were you gonna do here alone?”

  "Nothing!” I snap. “It doesn’t even matter now because you’ve ruined it!”

  Shoving past him. He grabs my arm, whirling me to face him again.

  “I didn’t ruin anything,” he says, voice low as he leans toward me.

  I jerk free of Ryder’s grasp and when he reaches for me a second time, I smack his hand away. "Leave me alone!"

  "Hey, chill out. What's up with you?"

  Fisting my hands into my hair, I emit a growl of rage. "I hate him! I hate Elijah and none of this is fair! I didn't do anything to him. He kidnapped me. He killed people. He started this war and now I'm supposed to spend every moment in fear and sit around waiting for him to finish it? Well, then come finish it!" I scream into the woods again, my voice straining and cords of veins popping in my neck. My breath comes ragged and heavy and I realize I'm trembling all over with fury.

  Ryder, arms crossed, watches me rant and rave and stomp my feet, a look of boredom across his features. "You done?"

  "No!" I bark marching back and forth, boots pounding the earth. "It's not fair!"

  "Fair? Did someone tell you life was fair? Cause, I'm gonna tell you right now, you were lied to."

  I stop and glare. "And that's supposed to help me right now?"

  His eyes widen and he feints concern. "You wanted help? Coulda fooled me since you ran off all by yourself into the woods with some sort of death wish."

  I groan in frustration and grip my hair again as if I'm going to rip it out at the root. "No. I want... my life to be normal."

  "Define normal."

  Dropping my arms to my sides, I gaze around, taking in the fog and the trees and the grey sky overhead, the crumpling wall and the decimated compound. It's begun to drizzle and I didn't even notice, tiny drops striking my face like little pin pricks.

  "I want to be safe. I want to be with my friends. I want-"

  "You want to be back in ROC?"

  "No! No. Not that." I sigh. "I wasn't really safe there either, not with the Gamble and the rations and everything else. I guess my life has never been normal."

  "Nor has anyone else’s. Normal doesn't exist. Normal is some random, elusive adjective we use to define our opinions and ideals. In the old world, I've heard it was used to sell people crap they didn't need so someone else could bathe in gobs of money. I dunno, but stop expectin’ normal, it's an illusion that will disappoint you every time."

  "Then what am I supposed to expect?"

  "Nothin’. You'll rarely get it anyway. Just press forward with the path you have and eventually you'll get where you're goin’. Now, are you finished actin’ the fool?"

  With embarrassment, I jam my hands into my back pockets and kick at the dust on the ground.

  Ryder grips my shoulder in one thick hand. "Come on. Now you know I’m here I don’t need to hide anymore. I might as well go back to the cabin with you and keep each other company. We can figure out the next course of action in the mornin’."

  * * *

  The following morning, I rise with the sun, its brightness cheery and energizing after a day of gloomy skies and chilly rain. The change in weather, and after releasing some of my anger and stress in the outburst yesterday, my mood has tempered.

  Ryder snores on the floor in the corner, one hand on the barrel of his own gun. After my initial f
ury, I found myself grateful he’s here. Last night I actually got some real sleep and feel energized, even though I know once he awakes, he’s going to demand I go back to the Risers’ with him. Maybe I should. This entire runaway and face off with Elijah alone was dumb. It didn’t even work.

  Intending to take one last look at the forest, I quietly exit the cabin, leaving my weapons because I’ll only be a minute.

  Making my way to the gates, I let my eyes flicker over the forest, the trees still damp from last night's rain, droplets shimmering on their leaves like diamonds. Everything smells crisp and fresh. Even the sky seems like a brighter shade of blue, as if the world has been repainted and touched-up and restored to its former glory.

  All remains quiet and normal. For all we know, Elijah was never here at all. He could be back at the safehouse still terrorizing my friends and the idea forms a lump in my throat. It’s time to wake Ryder and go back, figure out what to do from here.

  I scan the quiet forest again before turning on my heels.

  And there it is, dangling on the little sapling just outside the gates to my right shoulder, the silver glittering in the early morning sunlight. At first my brain doesn't register and I shift closer to inspect thinking it must be trash swept up in the branches from last night’s storm. However, once recognition dawns, my insides drop out and my knees turning to jelly. I have to hang onto the gate to stop myself from toppling over, the rust scratching against my palm. The world around me fades, the silver piece of jewelry all I can see.

  My mother's necklace, the simple little heart that has survived so much and made it so far. The necklace I gave Rey before I left, knowing he would never let it out of his possession until I returned. Now it swings on the sapling, as if placed there only a few minutes ago.

  Hair rises on the back of my neck. Trembling, I slide around the gate and tip-toe outside the compound, examining the area for any sign of Elijah, but knowing wherever he lurks, I'll never see him.