Authors: Kate Wrath
Eden (10 page)
"What?"
Her eyes go to mine. "Let's just say they never really
liked you."
A soft laugh escapes me as I consider it all. "Go
figure." I seem to have a knack for making psychopathic enemies. Grey,
Rossanna, and now Warner, whoever he is. There are probably some more in there
I've forgotten.
Jonas places a new plate on the table—full of fruit, a large
chunk of bread, and some whitish cheese. My eyes fix on it and drag my body
along with them to the table. I start wolfing the food down.
"So what now?" I manage between bites, though I
haven't really swallowed my mouthful completely.
Jonas sits at the other side of the table and studies me,
drumming his fingers.
"Guards," Celine answers. "Plenty of
guards."
I glance at her. "Are you kidding me?"
She shakes her head.
"Great," I mutter, taking another large bite of
bread and cheese.
"Maybe it won't be for too long," Celine says, but
I have the feeling her words are only to soothe me. "Maybe we'll get
something useful out of the prisoner. And then—"
My head snaps toward her. "Prisoner?"
She hesitates.
I look at Jonas.
"They caught one of the guys who were trying to take
you," he says, though he looks unhappy about saying it. Like he knows.
"I want to see him." I drop my makeshift
sandwich.
Jonas shakes his head.
"I want to see him," I demand.
"Told you so," Apollon says, across the room.
Jonas throws him a scowl, then switches his gaze to me.
"Eden," he begins.
"Now." I'm already out of my chair and on my way
to the door, though I'm lamenting not bringing my sandwich with me.
Jonas mutters as he rises from his chair. Celine hooks her
arm into his. I turn my gaze away from them, open the door, and march down the
stairs.
A whole pack of armed guards lead us down the street. I
can't really see anything through them, as encircled as we are. Just the looming
tops of buildings over their heads. There's no way I'm going to get used to
this.
Jonas, Celine, Apollon—they're all coming along. Kobee and
Moses have joined us as well. I don't know or recognize the ring of guards
that encircle us, but they're alert and, quite plainly, intimidating. They
seem to know what they're doing, and the others appear perfectly confident in
their abilities to protect us. Or me. I'm the one who needs protecting.
It's quite a ways through the streets of Wynwood. We move into
a section that is... not as nice. The buildings are more crumbly, old concrete
walls stained with years of dripping rain. This place feels grey, even framed
by the abundant blue sky. Heavy, old, moldy like bread. Only in comparison do
I realize that most of Wynwood is not that bad—bright, even, compared to a lot
of the cities I've been in. Roomy. Maybe that's because it's missing a lot of
people. I duck my head to hide my frown, but my eyes dart to Apollon. He's
looking over the guards' heads at where we're going. I guess there are some
advantages to being tall.
We make our way through a narrow street, mostly deserted. I
catch a glimpse of a few boys sitting on a graffiti-covered wall, sharing a
score of drugs. Their eyes dart to us for an instant before they turn back to
their business. On both sides, the buildings rise above us, hovering over us
like a cage. My eyes scan upward to a hanging, rusty fire escape, and I
suddenly feel like I'm not getting any air. Maybe the taller buildings block
the circulation, but whatever it is, I feel smothered. There's a dank, musty
smell, intermingled with wafts of excrement. And it's all hot, muggy, moist.
I feel like I'm breathing piss.
Celine suddenly unhooks her arm from Jonas' and takes mine
instead. I glance at her, and she offers me a tiny smile.
I don't smile back, because I'm still trying to breathe.
"Almost there." Her voice is so light. She looks
forward, as if she can see through the guards.
At the end of the block, there are stairs leading upward—one
long, straight staircase leaned against the front of the building. I eye them
through a small gap in the guards as we approach, not sure they're stable. But
it looks like we're going up them, anyway.
Two of our guards lead the way up, but the rest break off to
let us through. They bring up the rear.
Apollon tests the first step, watching the two guards
ascend, then shrugs.
"It's safe," Kobee says, and pushes past him.
The rest of us follow.
The stairs shift beneath the weight of us all, adding to the
sickening feeling rising in my stomach. I really don't like this place. Or
maybe I'm not as well as I thought I was. Maybe Celine's drugs haven't
completely worn off. That would explain why she hangs onto me so tightly as we
go up, like her elbow threaded through mine is a link in an unbreakable chain.
She almost drags me up.
A long straight stretch without any landings takes us up
three stories to the rooftop. We stand on a barren, flat roof. The view is
mundane; more ugly buildings block the sight of anything interesting. They
rise above this one all around, probably posted with rifle-toting guards. And
in the middle of our large roof is one small cell.
A squat building, maybe five by ten feet. The walls are
concrete. There's one substantial metal door with a series of chains and locks
holding it closed. In the door is a tiny window, no bigger than my face.
There are two bars filling up that space, which hardly leaves any of it that is
actually window. When I see it, with the heat and muggy air swirling around
me, I imagine the closeness inside that room—the inability to breathe. I'm
gulping for air, and Celine is mostly holding me up. I push her away from me,
turning my face to the side. Too much imagination. I get a hold of myself and
turn back. Kobee and Moses and some of the guards are exchanging dark looks,
but Celine is only concerned with me, trying to move my hair out of my face.
I bat her hands away. "I'm fine. Just not used to
breathing warm water."
She takes a step back. When I turn toward them, she's
regarding me, arms folded across her chest, head tilted to the side.
I ignore her and step up to the cell.
A cloud of heat is gathered around the window, pressing into
my face as I put it near enough to look in. My eyes adjust to the darkness
within and I finally see a lump sitting against the far wall.
"You," I say, poking him with my voice. He
doesn't respond. "I have some questions for you."
His eyes shift up to me, but he makes no move. Yes, I
recognize him as one of my attackers. With my vision starting to work, I
notice that he's taken off his shirt. Beads of sweat roll down his chest and
glisten on his face and shoulders. He's a big guy, but bruised and dirty.
Battered, even. His breathing is heavy, labored.
I turn back to the others. "Don't you have somewhere
better to put him?"
"He won't be here long," Kobee says. His dark
look turns to a darker smile.
I purse my lips and glare at him. Before I can protest,
Celine speaks up, behind me. Her voice is soft, calming, even though her words
are not. "Miami is not a city that likes keeping prisoners. When we take
them, it's only long enough to get something out of them. After that, they're
no good to us."
I search her face, leaning one hand on the door to support
myself, because I feel a bit wobbly. She steadily returns my gaze, but there's
something there I can't quite figure out.
Apollon's fingers are drumming lightly on his thigh. When
he sees me look, he stops.
Jonas steps to my side. "Let's get it out of him and
get this over with, then."
I snort, glancing back into the cell. If this guy knows
he's about to die, then why would he tell us anything? I study his face—his
closed eyes, the sprinkling of sweat on his brow. Maybe he'll talk just to end
it. To get it over with. But then, what do I expect him to tell me? Why did
I even want to see him?
"Well?" Jonas and I are shoulder to shoulder. He
leans over to look into the cell and his motion displaces me.
But I don't want to be part of this anymore. I have no
thirst for revenge. No need to beat answers out of this guy. It's pretty
plain—they don't like me. They want the chip in my head, or they want to keep
it from everyone else. Whatever. Everyone wants more power, right? To be
honest, it's getting pretty boring. Sickening. I just want everybody to leave
me the hell alone. And I don't want any more blood on my hands.
I fix Kobee with a glare. "Send him back to wherever
he came from." My eyes go back to the prisoner, who has suddenly looked
up at me. "Leave. Me. Alone." I turn and stride away. The others
are already in motion, opening the cell. Apollon is fast on my heels, along
with a gaggle of guards.
As I reach the top of the stairs, there is a commotion
behind me, punctuated by a grunt and a gurgle. I stop and look back. The
prisoner lies bleeding in front of the cell, slashed at the throat. His
lifeless eyes stare toward me.
"I told you to send him back," I hiss at Kobee,
who stands over the prisoner with a bloody blade.
He glances at me, a grim but determined look on his face.
"Don't worry," he says. "We'll send your message." He
nods toward the body, and Moses and one of the guards set about the business of
lopping off the head.
Apollon catches my arm as I start to sway. I blink
furiously, right myself, and take the stairs down two at a time.
***
"What the hell was that?" I don't care how it
looks that I've dragged Apollon up to my apartment and shut everyone else out.
I wish Jonas was here, too, so we could all talk about this together.
"Did he do that on purpose? Misinterpret me like that?"
My tall blonde friend looks dubious and shakes his head. He
pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and sits down.
I take a deep breath and start counting backward in my head.
It's a little late for that, but I need to calm myself. I get two glasses out
of the cupboard and pour us some water. When I set the drinks on the table,
Apollon gives me a grateful look and chugs his. I sit down and have a long
drink from mine. Then we look at each other. Our faces are grim.
"These people seem to have their own way of doing
things," Apollon finally says. "They don't hesitate to kill. But...
they also don't hesitate to jump in and risk their own lives. There were a
couple of women that took on some bad burns to pull me out of the wreckage of
that bar. I only woke up once we were almost out. And it seems that everyone
in that area of Wynwood got in on the battle. There were...." He
hesitates now, and I know what he's going to say—what he doesn't want to say.
He must see that I already know, because he pushes on, his voice softening.
"Some people died. They placed the bodies in the fire. But before that,
do you know what they said over them?"
I shake my head.
"Your sacrifice has made room for the future."
For a moment, we sit in silence.
"That's nice," I finally say. "Is that what
they say before they murder the old people, too?"
Apollon's jaw tightens. He shakes his head, looking away.
"I don't know, Eden. I'm not saying I like it. Just that they have their
own way of doing things." His eyes come back to me, now. "And since
we're stuck here, we need to figure it out. Or we might be the ones getting
thrown into the burning building next time."
I sigh a long sigh. "Makes sense," I concede.
"But I'm really starting to think I want out of here. I'm feeling pretty
creeped out. And let's face it, we haven't been in a city yet that anyone in
their right mind would want to stay in."
His blue eyes hit the floor. "But we can't
leave," he whispers. His eyes flick back up to me. "We have to deal
with this thing in your head."
"I'm not worried about that." I lean forward,
arms resting on the table. "But I have something else to do. I need to
get on with it. Then we're out of here. OK?"
There's a touch of alarm as he stares at me. "You're
thinking of leaving it in there?"
I raise my eyebrows. "Do you want to have
your
noggin cut open?"
Apollon leans back and laughs easily. "Hell no. But
everyone seems pretty convinced it needs to come out. Jonas included."
"I don't give a damn what anybody else wants. It's my
head."
He considers me for a moment. "And the Sentries?"
I groan, threading my fingers through my hair. The Sentries
are the last thing on my mind right now. But other more important questions
come along with this question. Is Outpost Three still there? Are our friends
still alive? And if they are, do they still need our help? If I leave the
Sentries as they are, am I sentencing everyone in Outpost Three to death? My
fingers tighten around my hair. I shake my head and close my eyes. "The
Sentries," I whisper.
When I open my eyes, Apollon is looking at me. Summing me
up?
"I don't know what I'm meant to do," I admit,
letting my head fall to the table. I stare at the wood from centimeters away,
my forehead pressed into it. "Am I supposed to take them down? Is that
what all this is about?" It occurs to me that I sound like a lunatic—all
the
supposed tos
and
meant tos
. Like my life has some great
destiny. Like it's actually been driven by Fate and not by Lily's obsessions.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Apollon asks.
One innocuous question. Apollon is never innocuous.
I raise my head and stare at him across the table,
blinking. I consider, for a moment, a world without Sentries. At first, there
is the magnificent, endless scope of trees and sky. Birds singing, otters
playing in the river, bears occasionally prowling through the forest. My heart
leaps with happiness at the memory of the snow-covered world that Apollon and I
trekked through. All its wonders. Enough wonders to make a world full of
people happy, and peaceful, and kind.
But there's another image. Cockroaches scurrying in and out
of a hole. Spreading out over a mattress in the dark. Covering everything.
Dirtying everything.
Not so long ago, we travelled through four nests of vicious
cockroaches. Piss, excrement, trash, and blood. We mark our nests with our
foulness. We consume everything, and when there's nothing left, we consume
each other.
What would happen if all the barriers fell? Would we crawl
over the whole world, consuming and shitting? Would there be anything left?
My breath seems to have caught in my throat, but I manage to
get some words out. "We
are
in prison. The Sentries aren't here
to protect us. They're here to protect the world."
Apollon nods once, solemnly.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I demand. "Why
didn't you say something?"
"You needed to see it." He looks at his hand on
the table. "I knew you would. You made me see it."
I think back to that nest of cockroaches. Enlightenment in
the oddest form. But that was a while ago. A lot could have happened between
then and now.
I give Apollon a look. "And you were going to let me
come to this in my own time, or what?"
He shrugs. "I nudged you, didn't I?"
I stare at him with my mouth open. There are so many things
spinning through my mind right now, a whirl of experiences reframing themselves
within the new structure of the world.
The evil killer robots that have destroyed my life, taken
the one thing I loved most—they have a purpose. A deadly purpose. And they
have fulfilled their duty with precision. My mind skims back to a moment on a
raft, floating down a broad expanse of river. Jonas' voice: "Maybe they didn't
want us to be OK."