Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1) Page 7

  So now, we work in silence. He can’t complain because my performance is better than ever. Maybe our friendship was just a distraction before. I hate to think of my mother’s death and Trey’s absence as being motivation, but I have to admit, a certain fire has been lit inside me. Outwardly, I’m calm, an emotionless zombie going through the motions.

  But on the inside… I’m planning. I don’t know what I’m planning yet, but consider this fire stoked. I’ve got enough fuel to keep this inferno burning for a good long while, and at this rate, I figure I’m getting hot enough to burn some shit to the ground.

  The truck I’m working on today is essentially trash being held together by duct tape. The body is almost completely rusted through in parts, the old blue paint color only visible within the seams of the doors. The engine needs a complete overhaul. When Trey’s team disappeared almost six months ago, they took our two best vehicles with them. We waited impatiently for them for a week before they were officially taken off the roster, and Jose insisted we bring out the backup trucks for the next team of scavengers being called up. Unfortunately, the backup team was second-string for a reason. They lasted four months before they too disappeared, taking the backup trucks with them.

  The third string lasted a week. I’m pretty sure you can see a pattern forming here.

  Anyway, now we’re running out of military fodder, and some of the burlier breeders are being tagged to fill the roster. And this shit-heap of a truck is moving on to bigger and better things.

  I sigh, something I’ve been doing a lot of lately, while bolting new steel panels into place over the passenger door. It blocks nearly the entire window, but you don’t need visibility as much as you need protection from the sun and… other things. I give the giant windshield the side-eye. I wonder how much of that I can cover without making it impossible to drive.

  I head over to the pile of scrap metal, mostly panels of steel salvaged from outside by the scavengers, but I notice there are a couple metal doors in the pile as well, that look awfully familiar. Almost like the doors to our apartments. I guess with all these missing soldiers, we have a lot of empty apartments that don’t need doors.

  Am I just supposed to ignore the fact that we’re basically tearing ourselves apart at this point? Elyse’s words ring in my ears, telling me that I’m the lucky one. Such horseshit. The disparity between the high military and us breeders is ever expanding. There aren’t many of us left that could be considered lucky.

  I mean, let’s consider for just one second that I did take Kenzo up on his proposal. Let’s say I married him, even if it were just as a partnership. Friendship, maybe. How would that even benefit me? Or him, for that matter? For how much longer? Soon, there won’t be anyone to work in the farm, no one left to make all that food, and no one left to eat it.

  We’re just the last guests aboard the Titanic, waiting for help to arrive, while there aren’t enough life rafts for all of us.

  “Why don’t you head home for the night.” Jose’s voice startles me out of my daze. How long have I been standing here? I meet his eyes, but his look is filled with such regret and pity. I look away as quickly as possible, and I see his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, my girl. I never meant to fail you.”

  My heart clenches. I want to run away, forget he said anything… but I can’t. Since being separated from my dad and brother, Jose is the closest thing to family I have. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jose. If anything, it should be me apologizing to you.”

  “No, mija, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He steps forward and folds me within his arms. And I let him. Every fiber of my being is screaming to push him away, to pull my hair out by the roots, to rage against the world we’ve been abandoned to. Instead, my arms find themselves wrapping around Jose. It’s human nature to cling to life; we can’t help but hope for something more.

  “I’ll do better, boss. I’ll try harder,” I say, and I almost mean it.

  “I don’t want you to try harder at this life, Lori. Because that will mean that you have given in, that you have accepted your lot. And this is not a life that you should ever be expected to accept.” Jose is filled with an intensity I’ve never seen from him before. “Whatever you need from me, whenever you need it, I will be here.” He squeezes my shoulders once more before walking away. He closes himself into his office with finality, ending our conversation and leaving me wondering what he meant. It didn’t feel like your average words of comfort. It was loaded with hidden meaning… a warning maybe? Did he expect me to need help with something? Would it be soon? Did Jose know something I didn’t?

  I roll these thoughts around in my head while heading back to my dorm. I focus on my feet, one foot in front of the other. Is that all I’ve been doing? If I focus on the individual motions, I won’t think about why I’m doing anything. Why am I walking, talking, accepting the bullshit? My sigh echoes in the empty hall. Where is everyone? I have no clue what time it is. I didn’t hear the end-of-day bell, but that doesn’t mean anything; I haven’t been hearing much of anything lately. I drag my gaze up from my feet and stop dead in my tracks. At the end of the dorm hallway is a guard.

  It’s happening again.

  The guard is different from the last time I found this hallway barred, over six months ago, but it triggers the lurch in my stomach, nonetheless. He’s not slouched, lazy, or tired, and he’s not wearing the standard guard gear. He’s one of the elite soldiers; though rare, there are a handful of soldiers left that were military before coming to the compound. They’re trained fighters, killers, efficient and loyal. This one is standing here with a very real purpose, and the way he holds the gun in a tight grip tells me exactly what that purpose is.

  I should run. I know I should, but I find myself taking a step forward instead. Six months ago, a girl died. She was just some random girl, but it had still been shocking. Now? Now that I live in that dorm, it won’t be someone random. It could be Stella with her long blonde braid, who is always humming under her breath. Or the old woman everyone calls Granny, with her hair like steel wool, who looks each guard in the eye, who refuses to be bullied. I don’t even know her real name...

  The thought that one of the girls from my dorm could be lying in a pool of blood just past this guard is unthinkable… except it’s all I can think about.

  Sweat prickles across my skin as I take another step. The soldier turns his head. He’s not wearing a helmet or visor like the guards, and it leaves his face bare. I’ve always hated the guards’ visors, because it hides their intentions, but now I realize how wrong I was. The look in the soldier’s eyes is like steel and barbed wire, and I wish nothing more than for him to have a visor to cover it up.

  Instead, I close my eyes. If he’s going to shoot me, then I don’t want to see it coming. His footsteps are slow and heavy as they come down the hall towards me. He stops right in front of me. But then nothing happens. My heart is thrumming in my chest, and my breath is hot and dry past my lips.

  I try counting the seconds to my death but don’t get past ten. I can’t take it anymore! I open my eyes and gasp. The soldier is just inches from my face, his blue eyes staring into my own. I expect him to look angry, to growl, to shove the barrel of his gun against my forehead. But he’s not angry. He’s not anything. His face is almost slack with his apparently absent humanity.

  “Ms. Fisher.” His voice sends a ripple of unease through me. This man is dangerous. “I need you to come with me.”

  “Uhhh… no?” I manage to squeak out.

  “It wasn’t a request.” He reaches out and grabs my elbow.

  That’s all it takes to trigger my rage. I think of every single guard who has ever touched me without my permission, of the girl who decided to take her own life rather than face another day within these walls. I wrench my arm away from him and take a step back. “Not asking was your first mistake. What are you, a Neanderthal? Are you going to club me and drag me by my hair?”

  My bitter sarcasm comes from a deep
well of fear, but it also seems to pierce his crunchy outer shell. The corner of his mouth gives just the tiniest quirk as though he might smile. Or at least he would if his official orders allowed him to.

  The soldier pauses, and I can see him thinking through his options. No one would stop him from pulling a caveman stunt, and I’m sure he knows it. Instead, however, he clenches his fist once as though barring himself from grabbing me again. He takes a deep breath, and I can practically see a wave roll through his body. He forces a level of calm over himself and tries again. “My great apologies, Ms. Fisher. I meant no offense.” He takes an exaggerated bow. “Might I have the pleasure of escorting you home?” He then offers me his elbow. He looks almost… dashing.

  Huh. It’s not often that I’m left stumped. “You might have overshot ‘decent human being’ status and gone straight to ‘chivalry overkill.’ But I’ll allow it,” I say, hesitantly hooking my hand around his forearm. “Do you have a name? Or is it classified?”

  I was joking, but when he doesn’t answer, I start to wonder. He leads me back to the hallway where he had been stationed, but before we turn, he pulls me to a stop. When I look over at him, I see the first true emotion to grace his features. It’s sadness, regret, anguish, and for just one moment, I have the urge to reach over and smooth the furrow in his brow.

  “What is it?” I ask, turning to face him. “You’re not just escorting me home. How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough,” he answers.

  I grab his hand, and he goes rigid in shock. He looks down to where our hands are touching, and his frown deepens. I expect him to pull it away, so I tighten my grip. “Tell me.”

  He shakes his head once, then finally looks up to meet my eye. “My name is Major Hill, ma’am. Ellis Hill.”

  And just like that, his mask slides back into place. He shoves that giant stick right back up his ass and leads the way down the hall, for better or for worse. Where the hell have they been keeping this guy?

  11

  Lori

  My breath stutters as soon as I catch a whiff of that all-too-familiar smell. Blood. My feet slow, but Major Hill tightens his grip on my hand and pulls me forward. He’s part leading me, part dragging me, and part keeping me steady as the walls begin to swim around me.

  Deep down, I know exactly what to expect. I've known all along, I think. Really, there was no other way it could have happened. We step through the doorway of the dorm, and my eyes sweep over the collection of soldiers and non-military personnel. My eyes then follow their sightlines to the body on the floor.

  Kenzo is hunched over Elyse, her once-pale scrubs now slowly wicking red from the pool of tacky blood around her body.

  With my entrance to the room, Kenzo looks over his shoulder at me. He looks spent, like a sponge that's been entirely wrung out. I can see a depth to his eyes, a deep well of sadness that seems to be bottomless. I can't even imagine the things he has seen. Then his face morphs into... fear?

  I step towards Elyse's limp body, and Kenzo jerks to his feet, standing in my way, his arms spread wide as a barricade. "You shouldn't see this," he says, placing his body to block my view of the scene. "Major Hill, what are you doing bringing her here? What were you thinking?"

  "Just following orders, sir," Hill says from behind me, his voice wooden. The two men glare daggers at each other, neither giving any ground.

  So I simply step around Kenzo. He makes a move to grab my arm, but it’s too late. With one step, I come to a screeching halt, my toes teetering at the edge of the blood puddle, staring down at the girl who could've been a friend had we been given the chance. We've been raised within these walls to suspect each other, to doubt even ourselves. I think back to Elyse's hope and optimism this morning. What could have happened to lead her to give up so quickly?

  I trace the blood back to its source, a huge slice running the length of Elyse's forearm. A gasp catches in my throat. I think back to Amanda’s body from months ago, the jagged tear across her wrists. Now, examining the neat precision of Elyse's wound, with its perfect smooth edges, a lurch of cold certainty grips me.

  She didn't kill herself.

  I look back at Kenzo and see the guilt in his eyes. No, this can't be right. "Did you do this?" I choke out. I didn't mean to blurt out an accusation, but it's exactly what I want to know. What I need to know. I hadn't meant to, but without knowing it, I had begun to trust Kenzo. His mild bedside manner with his patients, the puppy-dog eyes he trails after me, his sensitivity and kindness. Has it all been an act?

  "No, Lori, I could never... would never... I took an oath to do no harm. Do you honestly think I would hurt Ms. Windsor?" I can see that he's hurt, but I honestly couldn't give a shit about his feelings right now. Not with an innocent girl's body cooling on the floor at my feet.

  So instead of answering him, I turn to Ellis. "Major, what did you mean by following orders? Who told you to bring me here?" His calm facade cracks for just an instant. And in that instant, I can see his regret, but it's not regret I need right now. It's honesty.

  "She was a liability, Ms. Fisher,” he says, not even bothering to lower his voice. “It's important that you don't become one too." The threat is clear. Even if he's not the one issuing it directly, the words are coming from his lips.

  And he means them. I can see it in his eyes. The threat is real. Apparently, someone believes I have the power to do some serious damage around here.

  I glance around at the other people in the room, but they all discreetly avert their eyes, suddenly find an incredibly important thread on their scrubs that needs to be picked at. Nothing to see here.

  Kenzo, however, has clearly heard Major Hill, and now he’s gone pale. His Adam's apple bobs in a gulp. "Look at me," I sputter, barely more than a whisper. And when he turns to me, I know. He did something horrible. "What did you do, Kenzo?"

  It looks like words are failing him, but he forces them out. "I... It's my job, I had to report it. I didn't think—"

  "You didn't think? Are you kidding me?! What did you think was going to happen, Kenzo?" I close in on him, jab a finger into his chest. "Did you think they were just going to look the other way?" I can feel my pulse thrumming through my veins, hot and bitter.

  "I didn't think they would kill her! I just assumed they would..." He trails off, and I can see the moment it hits him. He had known all along, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not.

  "Even if they just arrested her, there was no way they were ever going to let her go. Not with that kind of knowledge." A freeze trickles through me. "Oh god... It's my fault."

  I start to back away, but now it’s Kenzo moving forward, trying to shift with me to keep our close near-contact. "You didn't do anything wrong, Lori."

  "Of course I did!" I practically shriek. I look around the room at all the reluctant witnesses trying their best to look the other way. I hiss as quietly as possible, though my voice is too loud in the thick silence in the room. "I took her to the garden. I knew it was wrong, the whole time I led her there, I knew the risk. But I did it anyway! And why? Because she was feeling a little down? Well, down is a whole lot better than dead!" The tears fall unchecked down my cheeks. I don’t even bother to wipe them away. There will just be more tears to replace them.

  With that, I shove against Kenzo's chest, causing him to stumble back. I turn and bump straight into Ellis's broad chest, like a brick wall barring my way. "Move, Ellis." His hands come up to my shoulders, and for a brief moment I think he isn’t going to let go. That maybe he will arrest me for showing Elyse the garden. But maybe I've been punished enough. I look back at Elyse's body sprawled on the ground. I try not to think about everything I've done. Or everything I haven't done.

  Major Hill doesn't speak, but he gives my shoulders a last squeeze before stepping out of the way. I can almost imagine I see an apology in his stone-hard gaze. But maybe it's just pity.

  I storm out, but I'm halfway down the hall before I realize that I have nowhere to go. My dor
m is officially a crime scene. And even if they do let me return to sleep in my cot for the night, do I really want to? I don't exactly have any interest in going back to see if they get the stain out of the tiles, or to stare at Elyse's empty cot.

  No matter how you slice it, Elyse would still be alive if I hadn't shown her the garden. But I can't just stop at all the personal guilt, take on that mantle and accept all that blame. Because that's not where it ends. I swallow down the bitterness, coat myself in the guilt, and then shove it into the furnace of my soul. I've been stoking this fire for a purpose, and maybe this is it.

  In what world is it normal to kill someone for eating an apple? My memories of the past may be dim, but I can't forget the freedom we had. Freedom to walk down the street whenever we wanted, to breathe clean air, to feed ourselves and our families. And this so-called government brought us here for our protection? I don't think so. They brought us here to be their slaves. To do all the dirty work while they stay safe behind their locked doors. I can’t even tell you who runs this place! I've never heard their name, barely even seen their faces.

  The whole time I rant in my head, I walk. I find myself back at my mother's old hospital room. I haven't set foot in this hallway since my mother's death. I rest my hand on the doorknob, and I swear the metal is colder than it used to be. The door swings open easily, without even a squeak. The cot, no longer in use, stands against the closet wall, folded and bare. Is it morbid to think about sleeping here, rather than my own dorm? Both rooms are filled with death, but this one feels more familiar, more comfortable. Maybe because my mother's death wasn't my fault.

  I'm just finished setting up the cot when Kenzo fills the doorway behind me. "Lori? Can we talk?"

  I ball my fists and bite my tongue. Every muscle goes rigid, calling for me to turn around and punch him right in his lying face. "You shouldn't be here," I say instead. "I need to just... think."

  He sighs, and I know he has no intention of respecting my wishes to be left alone. Maybe he's too stubborn to let it go. Maybe it's just that he can't handle the thought of me hating him. He steps into the small space, and I swear I can feel the heat of his body. He's probably burning with guilt from the inside out. Just like I am.