Bound to Ashes (The Altered Sequence Book 1) (15 page)

James glowers and says, “North. Greener pastures. The Promised Land. That what you wanna hear? We don’t fucking know where we’re going.”

Etcher’s frown deepens. That’s what all the travelers we ‘hang up’ say. But how could we not ask, especially when there’s a chance we can get out of this death trap? Etcher thinks maybe these people have a goal in mind, and maybe that goal could be for us, too. But all of them just say they’re walking because they don’t know what else to do. Staying in one place is suicide, they say. They say it over and over again. Maybe eventually it’ll get under Etcher’s skin and he’ll change his mind.

“So James,” he says, clearing his throat and starting with a less hostile tone. “Those soldiers.”

James sighs and says, “What about them.”

As if asking a drinking buddy where he got his new sports car for cheap, Etcher asks with a smile, “How’d you happen upon those? We thought they all got killed.”

Is he trying to do the good cop bad cop thing? I’m almost embarrassed. Just get to the point already....

“We found them,” James replies.

“Just like that,” Etcher says, his friendly tone fading.

“Just like that,” James says slowly, maintaining eye contact.

And for a second they just stare at each other, both their knuckles turning colors: red from the ropes and white from gripping the back of the chair.

This is the part of routine stops that I think Etcher’s going to snap and say something like, ‘We’ll take your fingers one by one until you tell us the whole truth,’ but instead Etcher stands up and says to James, “There was another one of you. She got away.”

“Good,” James says.

“Where’d she go?”

“Tch,” James chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I can’t even keep up with Aless when I
do
know where she is.”

It seems like every second more with this guy snips away threads of Etcher’s patience. He throws the chair to the ground by its back and storms to the back door. He throws it open and shouts into it, “Get me the other one!”

Other one? But they’re held in the opposite direction, if he wanted another he’d come to me....

After a heavy moment, James and I watching Etcher, he steps back slowly and lets someone in. “Yes?”

I grip the gun tighter. God, I’m on edge... Get a hold of yourself....

In walks guy from the barracks leading in another man I’ve never seen. The dark circles under his eyes, his dirty black jacket, his blank stare makes him look like a zombie. Not the first dead man walking we’ve picked up. But the way he glances at Etcher and at me, no flicker of emotion.... Why’d Etcher call in this freaky guy?

Etcher says to the guy from the barracks, “Thank you. Leave us.” He does so—a little more quickly than necessary.

The stranger’s blank stare slowly fades, now it looks like he’s playing chess and deciding which of his pieces to sacrifice.

“Good of you to join us,” Etcher says, putting his hand out to shake. The stranger slowly shakes it. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“Heydrich,” the man says.

James tenses up. I don’t think Etcher noticed, but something’s up. He watches the two of them and presses his back against the bleachers. So what, we tie up the sarcastic asshole but let the freaky one walk in? Is Etcher trying to get us killed?

Etcher steps back and continues, “I only asked you here because some of my men overheard you talking about the supersoldiers. What do you know about them?”

Heydrich almost smiles, but he says lowly, “They’re dangerous.”

Etcher sits back down on the chair and swings another out with one hand like it’s made of paper. “That I’ve gathered. They killed half our men on patrol.”

Heydrich glances sideways at James but takes the seat and clears his throat. “I’m not surprised. I’ve witnessed their brutality.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that. You had a run-in with the soldiers back where you came from. Where was that, again?”

“A few weeks travel on foot.”

Etcher raises an eyebrow at him. Yeah sure, we don’t use city names as much as we used to, before the virus hit, but come on. Why would he try to hide where he came from?

“The supersoldiers, four of them, probably the very same ones you have in your possession, were holed up in a bunker close to our camp. Once they figured out where we were, they came for us. Killed my friends.” I can’t be sure but I thought his voice caught a little, like he’s choked up. “They’re unpredictable. Sir. We were living there peacefully until they decided to strike.”

Etcher glances at James and says, “So how were you traveling with them like that? Can they be controlled?”

James’s temples shift, his jaw grinding, and his eyes dart between Heydrich and Etcher.

Heydrich barks a laugh that snags Etcher’s attention. “They can’t be controlled!” He says. “They’re nothing but... manufactured creatures pretending to be humans.” He rolls his eyes toward Etcher, leans forward, and adds, “It’s safer if they’re put to death.”

“Wait!” James blurts suddenly, lurching forward a little. “Now, wait, hold on a second!”

Etcher narrows his eyes at him and turns back to Heydrich.

“They were made to be killing machines, and they still are,” Heydrich says, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and folding his hands. There’s something sort of... staged about this guy. Like he’s acting or just really theatrical. He follows Etcher with just his eyes as Etcher stands and goes to stand in front of the big picture windows overlooking the field. What used to be a really nice football field is torn up and repurposed as a field for growing measly crops. This time of year, it’s brown and muddy. Even where I am I can see people down below bent over the shining fields of filth, tending to dirt that won’t feed us enough. Again. Etcher folds his arms and looks over the field. Heydrich gets up and joins him.

“The soldiers don’t want to help you,” he says quietly. “They’d sooner see your people’s blood irrigate the ground they’ve toiled over. Your people will fall to them, be it child or mother. They can’t be trusted among humans. I don’t know how this man and his companions have managed to convince them to remain... dormant... for so long, but it’s a fluke.” Heydrich stares wide-eyed into Etcher like he’s trying to get inside his head. Etcher doesn’t seem to notice how freaky this guy is. It can’t be just me....

Etcher takes a heavy breath and says, “We’ll decide what to do with them later, we need to know more about them if we’re going to try—”

“No! I mean— sir. Please. Save yourself the lives of your people, what few you have left, and kill the supersoldiers. They can’t be restrained or enslaved like you think. They will escape, they will fight you, and they will win. You remember. They fought against their creators, the people who knew them the best, and they won. If you want to risk the lives of your people, then fine, go ahead. You caught them off guard once but I promise you won’t be so lucky again.” Heydrich’s voice sinks in like venom.

James looks around the room frantically and his breath is erratic. What’s his problem? So their little pets are going to get put down. If what this guy says is true, it’ll be good for the whole world if they’re gone. I sure as hell don’t want to get put in charge of trying to make them work for us or whatever Etcher has planned. He’s a good guy, I guess, but kind of an idealist.

Etcher looks around at me, pulls a handgun out of his belt, and tosses it. I catch it awkwardly with one hand while trying to balance the rifle in the other.

“Go on, then. You heard him. Don’t waste your rifle’s ammo, we’re almost out.”

“Hold on!” James says louder. “Don’t,” he says, sounding a little like a plea.

I set my rifle on the table and unlock the safety on the silver pistol. I glance at Coach and say, “Sir,” and head out. Out of the corner of my eye, James looks away and swears under his breath, staring at the floor.

“And Michael,” Etcher says, catching me halfway out the door.

“Just shoot the soldiers and the young man. We can use the other one.”

I nod and rush out.

The halls of the stadium seem so weird, now, like I don’t recognize them anymore. The boarded up storage rooms and the whipping tarp curtains in the entrances to the bleachers seem like they’re against me. Like
home
is against me. My heart pounds faster.

Shut up, Michael, you’ve got a job to do.

I hope that Heydrich guy is right about the supersoldiers. If they’re like a dog that bites, well, that just simplifies everything. I’ll be doing everyone a favor. If they’re
not
....

Well. That Heydrich guy might have been kind of creepy, but he seemed to know more about the soldiers than anyone. It makes sense, what he said.... They were designed to be fighters. To kill.

But we’re not going to let them.

[Alessandra]

This couldn’t have gone worse.

I cannot believe those goddamn... people... had the gall to take
everyone
. I still think the second I turn around, there they’ll be, safe. Every time I look, they’re gone. Like a phantom limb. The itch is there but the flesh is gone. I want to scream.

The moment replays in my mind. Hiding in that mossy, clammy car, the wetness seeping into my clothes, praying they don’t see me... watching them drag off their limp forms....

Stop is Aless. Stop it. That isn’t going to help you now. At least you know where they went... right? At least you have a direction.

I guess my direction is the huge spiral form sitting eerily in the mist. It’s grey, everything is grey, the only color is the blood still coming off my scalp. I touch the wound gingerly—it stings like a bite. My fingers come back slick and reddish. They ripped out more than hair.

I can only imagine what they’re doing to the others.... I might have it easy.

I stare up into the misting rain and the tall buildings all around me and all I can think about is how much I wish this hadn’t happened. With every fiber of my body I wish I could go back to yesterday evening. Just this once, universe, please turn back time and let me do things differently. Let me have led them away from the city, around it instead. They would have complained about the longer route but at least they’d be safe.

Putting pressure on my face with my wet hands only helps a little. You can’t go back, Aless. You can never go back. So go somewhere else instead. Forward, at this point, is any direction.

So I start walking towards the stadium. It grows larger and larger in front of me, looming in the greyness. I step over the bodies littering the roundabout. Their blood is diluted to a pinkish smear on the asphalt, my boots splash in the residue. There’s not a soul around except for a rat scurrying into a toppled mailbox.

It seems stupid to just walk up to the place like this. Am I being stupid? Then why do my feet just keep walking forward? Can I trust myself to know what to do when this plan inevitably goes all wrong?

And yet, here I go. One foot in front of the other. Blood streaking down my back, all my clothes sticking to me, my hair in a tangled mess behind me. I can’t even think about how much all that bothers me, how much I want to strip and dunk myself in water somewhere, clean out all the grime and gore.... Thinking of showering and drawing a bath just makes my heart ache more. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly feels clean. I imagine the rain washing the dirt off my skin and out of my hair. Of course I’m thinking about something like that before going and doing something as stupid as this. Aless, you piece of work, you.

The stadium doors stand in front of me. The decorated wrought iron gates hang off their hinges, trash and empty ammunition casings litter the ground. The sun can’t get into this dim hallway. My eyes adjust in a few seconds—it’s just as bleak in here as it is outside. No evidence of the past remains, only debris left by human desperation and inability to care about things like sanitation. We’re all just animals now.

Something shuffles down the dark hall.

I freeze and my hands go straight to the gun on my hip. No time for plans.

Light-footed, I stride around the curving cement walls. Is it one guy, maybe two? Please let it just be one... just one....

He turns around, both hands on a sawed-off shotgun, he raises it—his eyes are wide—

I drop. Low to the ground, I roll forward over my shoulder, the guy says something but I push to my feet and my gun’s at his face.

“Shit,” he spits, dark eyebrows nearly meeting his buzzed hair.

My mouth moves without hesitation. “You’re gonna tell me where the supersoldiers are,
now
.” Where they are, Peregrine and the others are, too.

“T-took ‘em up top, sixth level, c-concessions—”

I sidestep, keeping the gun on him like a magnet. “Drop it.”

The gun clatters to the ground.

“Please, I, it’s my first time on patrol and I—”

“Does it look like I give a shit?” I pull the gun towards me with my foot, crouch and grab it, and stand. “Get out of here. If you tell anyone what you saw, when I get to the soldiers, they’ll find you and I promise your death
won’t
be quick.”