New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series Page 16

  Staying in a crouch, we backed away as quickly as we dared, not yet bold enough to take our eyes from the Wraiths. Nine now shared the raised space with us and hundreds were lying in wait below.

  It wasn’t until Triven’s fingers squeezed my shoulder that I turned away from them. We were back at Archer’s curtains. Urgency and fear hastened our movements as we slipped back into the darkness of the exposed beams. Then, as my hands tried to settle the fluttering curtain, the Wraiths’ battle cry rang out.

  What started as one voice quickly became hundreds. Cold sweat coated my skin as we flung ourselves—half-blinded by the total blackness—through the maze of iron supports.

  Twice my feet slipped and once the stinging bite of metal slashed my palm, but we never stopped. Not when Triven was pushing me towards the hatch, or when I was pulling him up. Not when we were back outside on the dome’s smooth surface, or even when we hastily retrieved the deactivated bomb. My arms shook as we crossed the wire back to a distraught and waiting Otto and Grenald. The second our feet were on solid ground and the wire was cut, we were running again. None of us stopped, not until the Wraiths’ cries could no longer be heard and my old safe house was miles behind us.

  As my lungs burned and muscles pleaded with me to stop, I could only think one thing.

  One Tribe down.

  Three more to go.

  ARCHER’S VOICE ECHOED off the walls of my hotel safe house. It was not one of the ravaged rooms with rotting beds and broken windows, but a storage room with a chute that dropped ten stories down to the basement. What had once felt like large space to me, was now cramped with bodies. We had berated by her at least thirty times in the past hour.

  “I still can’t believe you left the hostage.”

  Archer had refused to say child, girl, or Wraith. It was always hostage. I think it made it easier for her to disconnect. Which should have been easy for her since she hadn’t been there. Despite her carping, I still stood by my decision and so did Triven.

  “She would have slowed us down.” I retorted, again. “We barely made it out as it was.”

  “She was our leverage.” Archer shook an open palm at the ceiling.

  “She was a liability.” I countered.

  “They will never show up to your little meeting now. They have no reason to.” Archer’s words had bite, but her body slumped. She was finally giving up.

  “They might not have anyway.” Triven added and several other heads agreed.

  “Well, they’re definitely not going to now.” Archer pulled a silver pouch from her bag, ripping the top open a little too aggressively and spilling something green onto her pants. She swiped at it, effectively rubbing more into the fabric.

  “Look, it’s done. We made a split-second decision. The girl stayed.” What I didn’t say, was that a part of me was under the impression Teya was more likely to come since we had let her child go. My actions made me an enigma in her eyes. And people had a hard time staying away from things that puzzled them. But how do you tell a child whose mother who tried had to kill her, had just let us go to save her other child.

  “Whatever.” Archer muttered, focusing all her energy on attacking the pouch balanced between her knees.

  I poked at mine. Food was never easy to stomach after a night like tonight. Or with the nights to come looming over us.

  Grenald had said nothing since our exodus. The giant was impossible to read, seemingly disappointed in our choice and yet relieved. The remaining six—though they said nothing—seemed relieved as well. Whether morally or because it was one less body to move and keep hidden, who knew?

  The room was filled with crinkling and chewing. Despite her squawking, both Archer and Grenald too had visibly relaxed. Their part was done. The rest of us were not as lucky.

  Nos finally broke the silence talking around a mouthful of food. “There’s a huddle nearby. One-a the bigger ones.”

  I hadn’t heard the term huddle until this mission started. Unlike most of the other Tribes, the Scavengers tended not to gather in one place as a whole, but in smaller groupings they apparently called huddles. The Tribe was still united as one, but since they turned on each other just as frequently as they did others, smaller factions had developed for protection. In a perverse way, they were almost like families. That is, families that procreated and were willing to kill each other.

  The biggest problem this created for us, was that there was no true leader. No single person for us to convince. Since the Scavengers gathered within a sprawling ten-block radius, we could only hope to find a few of the larger huddles and hope they would spread the word.

  Nos was from one of these larger huddles, but Cortez had been tight-lipped about hers.

  I couldn’t blame her.

  Even with their instructions, we were better off hoping to ambush a Scavenger huddle rather than plan an infiltration as we did with the Wraiths.

  Our team seemed more relieved by this scenario than the other plans, but it didn’t ease my mind in the least. What they saw as an open assault with a multitude of ways to escape, I saw as a multitude of ways to be ambushed.

  “I still think we should go after them tomorrow instead of just doing recon.” Cortez, despite her obvious nerves, had already finished her meal. She was Subversive now, but definitely a born Scavenger. They never wasted a morsel.

  “We talked about this already—” Nos was already on the defensive as though he had been expecting her to say that. The two had squabbled since our first meeting and hadn’t stopped yet. Had I not been completely exhausted, I would have told them both to shut up.

  “They might move!” She countered.

  “Not if we follow the plan.” Nos retorted, wincing at his own words. None of us liked the plan. But it would be an effective one.

  “What if they don’t come?” Otto asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “They will.” Nos, Cortez and I spoke almost in unison. I refused to look up from my meal.

  They came for my parents, they would come for us too.

  OUR RECON DAY had proved fruitful. To everyone’s distaste.

  The trap had been set to lure the closest and largest huddle to us. We would still be horribly exposed, but at least we were in a position to give ourselves the best possible chance at survival.

  The alley we had chosen was ideal. It was almost a street’s width and culminated in an impenetrable brick wall. The mouth was the only way in or out. At some point, it may have been considered a courtyard even. Now, it was a cratered cement slab covered in trash and three bodies.

  Two looked dead, and one was.

  We hadn’t killed the Taciturn who was sprawled face up on the ground near the opening to the streets. But the staged scene painted the picture that way. Our recon had procured the freshly killed body. A hit by the look of him. The bullet hole in his forehead and staring blank eyes were a gruesome bonus. Triven and I were collapsed face down in broken looking heaps on the pavement near the barricading wall. Both our arms were tucked under us at odd angles, concealing our weapons at the ready. Twice already I had to wiggle my fingers to keep the tingling at bay. The last thing I needed was a useless hand when the time came.

  Nos had snared a sickly-looking rabbit as well and used its disgustingly warm blood to add to the gore. He had even wasted precious bullets, as a call to the surrounding Scavengers.

  To a passerby, it was evident that a fight had broken out and all parties involved had paid the price. No question about it, if there were Scavengers in the area, they would be coming soon to pick our bodies clean. Very soon.

  Archer and Baxter perched on the roofs above somewhere. Dutifully unseen, and equally deadly. Nos and Cortez were tracking the Tribe’s movement, sending up noiseless smoke clouds to alert our snipers of their progression. Otto, Grenald and Veyron were perched above the barricade wall, looped ropes at the ready and poised to be lowered to us at a moment’s notice.

  A birdlike call echoed down the walls to us and my ears were
instantly alert. The Scavengers were less than a block away now. Triven stopped breathing next to me. I desperately wanted to reach out to him, both to comfort and to seek comfort. But I knew any movement now would shatter my composure. Instead, I whispered into the cement.

  “Together.”

  Like mine his response was barely audible, but it soothed my nerves.

  “Together.”

  In some way, this had become our I love you. Meant only for us and Mouse. It was our bond. Our family. Our vow.

  The Scavengers did not make the raucous noise like the Ravagers, but they were not approaching quietly either. Goading voices spoke in broken English. I had a sudden respect for Nos and Cortez. Both spoke eloquently. They sounded nothing like their ex-brethren. Lazy feet dragged as the group moved. I could hear the sound of something larger being pulled along with them, though I didn’t dare raise my eyes to look.

  My stomach knotted as the first of the Scavengers caught sight of our trap. There was a low whistle.

  “Pickin’s be good today.” There was a chorus of cackling. Still not a single Tribesman rushed into the concrete courtyard.

  Good.

  Had they rushed us, this meant the huddle’s Alpha wasn’t among them, but their hesitation divulged he was. They would move when he signaled. Even rats had their pecking order.

  As we had planned, they came to the dead Taciturn first. His skin would be cold, greying eyes focused on the green sky above. There would be no question that the body was dead. Hopefully they would assume the same of us as they approached.

  Someone was walking toward us, his smell preceding his steps.

  I held my breath.

  In the wake of his movements, I could hear the other members of the Tribe descending on the body. Fights were breaking out, fabric was ripping and feral growls were echoing off the buildings.

  Feet sidled next to me and I tensed. If they flipped me first, I would have to be ready. If they flipped Triven, I had to be sure to react at the same time he did. Timing was everything. Archer and Baxter could provide some cover if we moved too slowly, but it was better not to waste the bullets unless necessary.

  Hands never touched me. But a filthy toe jammed itself under my shoulder and kicked up. I rolled with the force of its kick. My back pressed against the ground briefly before I popped up into an alert seated position. Both my arms flung wide brandishing two semi-automatic handguns—yet another gift from Ryker. The woman who had turned me over leaped back in surprise, squealing as Triven came to life in the next instant. Like a flea, she bounced back from us. But fear quickly turned to anger.

  I gently squeezed the triggers on my guns and a red dot bloomed to life on the man I assumed to be the Alpha’s head and another man who was too close for my liking. Crude weapons were drawn, but no one advanced. I took their hesitation as an opportunity to get to my feet. Triven rose with me in perfect unison. I swept the crowd of filthy Scavengers. It had been years, but still I searched for my parents’ clothing among the group. The scent of blood accompanied the memory.

  Every eye watched our weapons with hunger, not fear.

  “Don’t. I’ll shoot you before you can take it.” Triven barked, nodding at his gun. His tone emanated an authority that even raised the hair on even my arms. Whereas I had been the mouthpiece with Teya, he would be our voice with the Scavengers. Unlike Teya who favored powerful women, the Scavengers were a male dominated Tribe. They wouldn’t listen to me, not unless I underwent some serious anatomy changes.

  “More ‘a us than you’s.” The Alpha grinned, displaying an array of rotted teeth.

  He took a tentative step and the huddle moved with him. Four shots cut the air. Triven’s and mine both bit the ground at the Alpha’s feet while two more nicked the ears of the Scavengers closest to us.

  Damn, Baxter and Archer were good.

  The entire huddle halted its advance.

  “You sure about that?” Triven threw the words back.

  Jaundiced eyes searched the rooftops, but they would find nothing. A collective shudder vibrated through the group as they retreated in on themselves. Four Scavengers at the back peeled off from the huddle. Those were the Betas—the ones Nos and Cortez had warned us about.

  They wouldn’t fight us. They never would have. These people were deserters to their core. Even now, in an alley where we were clearly outnumbered, they would rather wait for the outcome than to be part of it. If their huddle survived this encounter, all the better. If not, then the Betas would come slinking back when it was over to pick their own huddle clean and move on with no remorse.

  Rats, I thought with a disgusted tremor.

  Unlike the Betas, the Alpha male had not moved. His barrel chest heaved beneath the matted brown layers. The multitude of filthy clothing had fused together with years of grime and sweat.

  I held my breath, blocking their putrid stench. Triven’s throat muscles clenched and I felt a pang for him. I could get away without breathing much, but he had to speak. His nose twitched.

  “We don’t usually take down livings, but there are always exceptions.” The S’s whistled out the gaps in the Alpha’s teeth. His pink tongue pressed wiggling against the gaps, as if trying to escape the stench of his own mouth.

  Triven’s voice came out lower than usual, masking his nerves. “Kill us and you’ll lose out on the biggest haul this city has ever seen.”

  Greedy, the huddle leaned in closer. My eyes wanted to dart to our friends. Keep your guns ready. I silently warned them. Desire had momentarily subdued their bloodlust, but it wouldn’t last.

  The Alpha’s head twisted. “So, the undead came to make a deal?”

  “More food, water and weapons than any Tribe has.” Triven offered, tossing him a food pouch as I had Teya.

  The Alpha’s beady eyes dilated as he scrutinized the bag. He slapped back a few other Scavengers who had edged too close.

  A gap-toothed grin accompanied his broken English.

  “We listening.”

  21. PELTS

  T WICE MORE WE made the same offer to other Scavenger huddles as we had made first to the Wraiths. And twice more, we couldn’t be sure of the outcome.

  Though rank enough to asphyxiate, the Scavengers had proven less threatening than we’d expected. They had never been known for their aggression. Generally not the hunting type, they preferred the role of buzzards. Easier to pick at carcasses than to kill.

  Still, I had expected worse.

  But on my whistles, our ropes came down and pulled us safely back to higher ground without incident. No shots were fired, no knives thrown. The only thing that followed us were hungry eyes. The only obstacle was having to move and restage the Taciturn body each time. Both Arden and I had refused to touch it.

  Overall, it seemed too easy.

  The Wraiths had not hunted us down—yet—and three huddles of Scavengers had listened to our offer. While we were still alive—a definite plus—not one had actually committed to joining our cause. They hadn’t even committed to meeting with the other leaders. Four days had passed and it felt like the Tribes were slipping through our fingers like water. We could touch them, but they weren’t in our grasp.

  If this stupid plan didn’t work—if I proved my initial instincts right—then we would fail.

  Somehow it felt like we already were. New nightmares began merging with old ones. I was always standing on a rooftop staring at The Wall. My parents and Maddox flanked us. Blood poured from their wounds, filling their mouths and silencing them. Then The Wall would fall and though I tried to hold Triven and Mouse close to me, hands would always rip them away. Fire consumed us as the worlds collided and we were swallowed whole. Night after night, the dream came. But at least the screams were kept to a minimum. Mostly, because it was impossible to wake up screaming when you rarely slept.

  I wasn’t the only one with circles under my eyes. Archer had taken to sleeping with her rifle clutched to her chest. Cortez started chewing her nails until they bled,
and Grenald had stopped talking almost entirely. I couldn’t decide if I liked the giant better as a mute or if it only unnerved me further. It also hadn’t helped that my last two hideouts had been a little tight for the bulky man. He had cursed me the entire way in and out of both.

  Tonight’s safe house was at least slightly roomier. The building was a maze of hallways with endless doors. There were twelve floors, each filled with vacant rooms of rotted furniture and broken windows. It may have been tempting for some to claim one of the tattered rooms as a safe place, but they didn’t meet my standards. My safehold was on the top floor. Accessible now only through scaling the elevator shaft. There were no windows in the room and bare floor. Dusty furniture was stacked in random piles, but there were also crude mattresses. Much like so many of the other locations I had chosen over the years, it was a storage room of sorts. I chose them not as a source of supplies, but because they were generally better fortified than most spaces. One door that could easily be blocked and a rare window. Typically, unappealing to others. Very homey.

  As we made our last scouting sweep of the Taciturns’ territory, the thought of an actual mattress made me hasten my steps. At least tonight I would have a soft bed while lying awake.

  Had the others beat us back there? I reached for my neck, searching for my father’s watch before remembering Mouse had it. My hand fell away empty.

  Our full group had broken off into tomorrow’s teams. The Taciturns covered more territory than the Wraiths and getting to their leader was not going to be so easy. Arden and Otto had both described the Taciturn leader as an unhinged recluse. Zed, the leader in question, was known for killing anyone who he thought might betray him, which was apparently nearly everyone. He was the one who had skinned Maddox’s brother for a new vest. I shivered, remembering the moment Maddox’s screamed in my face the reason for his defection.