Judgement: The Undergrounders Series Book Three (A Young Adult Post-apocalyptic Science Fiction Thriller) (5 page)

S
omething's happened to Curly
.

The Undergrounders and the clones throw me questioning looks, but I don't offer any explanation. I don't want to sound the alarm yet that something's wrong. I walk up to the horse and take it by the reins. "Take care of the clone's remains. I'll handle the horse." I lead it off in the direction of the rider's barn, a sickening feeling building inside me with every step. There's only one reason Curly didn't come back with the lame horse. The Rogues must have caught up with him. He could be dead by now, or The Ghost could be planning to use him to barter with me if he suspects that I'm hiding Rummy from him.

The walk from the city gate to the barn has never seemed longer. I'm not sure how I'm going to break it to the other riders that Curly didn't make it back. I brace myself as I head inside the stable. A young rider by the door jumps to his feet. A look of alarm flits across his face. Wordlessly, he takes the reins from me and leads the horse into a stall to examine her leg. "Where did you find her?" he asks.

"At the main gate. She came back alone."

He nods, his lips pressed together as he prepares a poultice.

We leave unspoken what we both fear most, that Curly has fallen into the Rogues' hands.

Minutes later, Jody arrives back from the clinic. Her face blanches when I give her the news. "First Ida, now this," she mutters, sinking down on a stool.

Nothing I can say will make this any easier for her. Just the thought of what The Ghost might do to Curly is enough to send chills down my spine. He's not going to be in a merciful mood after we took the horses right out from under the Rogues' noses.

"I'm going to ride back out there and look for Curly," Jody says. "He wouldn't leave one of us behind."

I nod. "I'll go with you. Give me a few minutes. I'll meet you at the main gate."

I stop by the sleeping quarters at the back of the barn first, hoping to catch Trout, but no one's seen him all morning. I leave a note for him on his bunk, naming him interim chief in my absence, to be made permanent in the event I don't return. I'm not under any illusions about our chances of rescuing Curly without casualties. A few riders are no match for the Rogues. Maybe I can talk Sven and the military clones into coming with us instead of returning to the Craniopolis. Anything to keep him with me a little longer.

"Have the military clones left yet?" I ask when I make my way back out to the stable.

Jody shakes her head. "Sven's heading over to the courthouse to pick up some things Jerome wanted from his office."

M
y mood is
somber as I jog back to the courthouse. The Ghost knows we're not going to leave Curly behind. He'll be expecting us. This is a doomed rescue attempt unless I can swing the odds.

I take the courthouse steps two at a time and corner Sven in Jerome's office. He jumps up when he sees me. "Derry! What's wrong?"

"The Rogues captured Curly. The lame horse arrived back at the gate a few minutes ago without him."

Sven stares at me, expressionless, only the throbbing pulse in the side of his neck betraying whatever emotion he's fighting to control.

"The riders risked their lives for us. We owe it to them to attempt a rescue. Please, Sven, this isn't about you and me. Curly needs your help."

He blinks and inhales a sudden breath as if coming to. "I'll round up the military clones. Rocco can escort the scientists back to the Craniopolis and then return to the city. The military clones will have to stay here in case the Rogues attack."

I shoot him a heartfelt look of gratitude. He takes a hesitant step toward me and then stops, as though he still suspects me of somehow staging the whole thing to keep him here. "I'll meet you at the gate in five minutes," he says, exiting abruptly.

I grab the binoculars from Jerome's desk and tuck them under my arm. They could come in useful if we're trying to spot Curly in the Rogues' camp.

W
e ride
hard out of town, the fleet-footed military clones easily keeping pace with the horses. When we reach the forest we avoid the trail and begin thrashing our way through the dogwoods and ferns. We hike for several hours at an increasingly halting pace until we reach the location where the Rogues made camp. A disquieting chill settles over us. All that remains is an ominous ring of stones and cold ashes.

Jody quickly pinpoints the Rogues' departing trail. The recent rain has softened the dirt and the heels of their heavy boots have left their imprint in the mud, even tracking it over the logs they stepped on. Jody examines the telltale signs and tosses a few broken twigs aside, her face grim. "The bracken here is smashed to a pulp. They're not trying to cover their tracks. They want us to find them."

"So we're walking into a trap," Sven says.

I take a deep breath. "The Ghost wants me. He can't get past the fact that I let Rummy escape." I look around at the others, my heartbeat tripping in my throat. "He'll take me in exchange for Curly. No one else has to get hurt–"

Jody cuts me off with a sour look. "Don't even go there. I don't make deals with horse thieves," she snaps, before disappearing beneath a thick, dark canopy of trees framing the trail.

I'm fairly certain by the looks on the other riders' faces as they fall in behind her that they would have taken the deal if Jody hadn't cut me off. Sven gestures to the military clones to go ahead of us. I throw him a grateful look. This could be my only chance to bring him up to speed on my conversation with Viktor before the military clones return to the Craniopolis. We walk along in silence for a few minutes before I build up the courage to broach the topic. "I talked to Viktor earlier. Lyong was telling the truth about resolving ossification. There was a breakthrough at one of the other outposts."

Sven's stride falters, but he keeps his eyes forward.

I grab his sleeve. "Sven! You know what this means. They can fix you, you and everyone else." I gesture to the clones on the trail ahead of us.

He presses his lips together, his expression strained. For several minutes he continues pounding his way through the brush, and then he comes to a halt and turns to me. "How does Viktor know about this?"

"Same way he intercepted the transmission from the Megamedes. He hacked into Lyong's files."

"All speculation," Sven says. "The scientists at the outpost could have been exaggerating their progress."

"I don't think so. Lyong was planning to take Sook there."

The dubious expression on Sven's face morphs into one of curiosity.

I bite my lip, trying to keep from grinning wildly. "Viktor's going to secure the outpost's coordinates."

A deep flush creeps over Sven's face. His amber eyes lock with mine. For one dreadful moment I think he's going to tell me that I'm wasting my time, chasing a fantasy, that we should give up on the dream of growing old together, but before I realize what's happening his lips are pressed to mine, smooth and potent, an explosion from which I know I will never recover.

When he releases me, the fragments of my brain slowly resurface, and I become aware of a pair of military clones observing us in icy silence. I steal a harried glance at Sven. He lifts his brows, somehow asking my forgiveness while looking remarkably unrepentant.

"You fell behind," one of the clones says, staring at me. "We came back to check on you."

Cheeks burning, I beat a hasty retreat after the rest of the group, savoring the taste of Sven's lips on mine.

We follow the Rogues' trail for a couple of hours until we reach a fast-flowing stream where we break to let the horses drink. Jody wanders off and comes back a few minutes later. "We're closing in on them," she says. "We should go on foot from here. There's a copse up ahead. It's not far from the trail, but well-concealed. We can leave the horses tethered there."

"We need to work out a plan to rescue Curly," Sven says.

"We won't have the advantage of Lou's arrows this time," Jody says. "We'll have to wait until nightfall to rescue him."

I furrow my brow. "That's exactly what The Ghost will be expecting us to do. We need to think more along the lines of ambush."

Sven folds his arms across his chest. "What kind of ambush?"

"Something that will make them scatter and give us a chance to get Curly out," I say. "We'll attack on two fronts. Once they're camped for the night, half of us can push ahead on the trail and climb up into the trees and wait for them. When they come through, we'll pick them off, while the rest of us strike from the rear. The Rogues will be confused and forced to split up to defend themselves, and that's when the riders swoop in and rescue Curly."

"I like it," Sven says.

Jody massages her brow. "We'll need to do some recon before the Rogues break for camp. I want to find out how they're transporting Curly, how many guards are assigned to him, that sort of thing. If Curly's on his feet, it will make our getaway easier. If he's injured, it will complicate things."

"I'll come with you," I say.

Jody nods. Without another word she turns and slips into the brush.

My eyes linger on Sven's for a moment, before I follow Jody into the undergrowth.

A pair of squirrels exchange a burst of sharp chatter and disappear with a flick of their tails up into a nearby pine tree as we go by. The ground is still damp, muffling the sound of our footsteps, but we tread with caution nonetheless. Even a snapped twig would be enough to herald our approach to a patrol so we take the time to weave around obstacles in our path.

Visibility is hampered by the copious undergrowth and the canopy of greenery up above, beyond which I can make out a few smudges of a silver-gray sky. I wipe my sleeve over my sweaty forehead and reach around to the side pocket of my pack for my water canteen.

All at once Jody drops and motions to me to do the same. I flatten myself beneath the understory and peer out, searching for any sign of movement. Minutes tick by before the faint sound of voices drifts toward me. Jody crawls lizard-like over to me. "They're east of us," she whispers. "If we climb up on that ridge we can get a good look." She points at a steep slope, slick with soggy half-mulched leaves and patches of rotten bracken. A few stringy roots offer the only helping hand up.

"We'll have to take a run at it," I say. I rummage around in my pack for Jerome's binoculars and hang them around my neck, before tossing my pack to one side.

Jody rests her pack up against mine. "Ready when you are."

Together we charge the slope and reach for the roots. I dig my toes into the wall of dirt and pull with all my strength to work myself up. My wiry contortions beat Jody to it and I realize with satisfaction that I've grown stronger in the past few months.

We take a minute to catch our breath and then jog up a more gently sloping section to the very top of the ridge. I kneel and train my binoculars on a clearing on the trail up ahead. Within minutes, the first Rogues emerge from the trees. They tromp along, single file, rifles slung casually over their shoulders. I spot The Ghost almost at once, his casual gait belying the cunning that lurks inside his whip-thin frame. Blade follows a few feet behind him, a wool cap pulled low over his eyes. The nape of my neck prickles at the sight of him. "The Ghost's near the front," I whisper to Jody, all too conscious of how far my voice might carry from the ridge top.

"Any sign of Curly?" she asks.

I shake my head, keeping my binoculars trained on the ant-like procession. I count seventeen Rogues go by, before I finally spot him, staggering along on a leash behind a short, pudgy Rogue with a duck-like stride. "Got him!" I shove the binoculars at Jody.

She grimaces. "Looks like he's limping."

"How many Rogues are behind him?" I ask.

"Two ... three ... I think that's it. No, here come a bunch more."

Jody thrusts the binoculars back at me. "I don't want to wait until morning. Curly's not in good shape. I say we take our chances and attack as soon as it turns dark. Even if they're waiting for us this time, we'll have the advantage with the military clones and their enhanced vision."

Without waiting for my response, Jody turns and strides off down the slope. I jump up, still clutching the binoculars, and break into a jog after her. My heel slips in the loose dirt and I tumble forward, grasping in vain with my free hand at a branch just out of reach as I careen down the mulch-covered slope to the forest floor below. I land with a soft thud in a bed of leaves and pine needles and scramble to my hands and knees, unhurt, but shaking with fear. I stretch out my fingers for the strap of the binoculars and pull them toward me, heart pounding. Did the Rogues hear me fall? I grab my pack and gun and hunker down in the brush. A few feet behind me, a woodpecker hammers furiously on the bark of a nearby tree. I jerk my head in the bird's direction and freeze when a tattooed face peers back at me.

R
ummy
!

My thoughts zap around in my head like I'm being electrocuted. Should I run? Shoot before he does? Yell to warn Jody? I take a shallow breath, toxic fear flooding my lungs. I can't wait for him to make the first move. My fingers tighten around the barrel of my gun. When I raise it, Rummy puts a finger to his lips and flattens himself against the trunk of a tree.

A swishing sound stills my heartbeat. The thud of footsteps. Someone's moving through the understory toward us. The hair on my clammy skin stands on end. The Rogues must have heard something. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen. The rustling stops, and I hear the sound of someone relieving himself in the bushes only a few feet from me. I hold my breath until the swishing resumes and the footsteps fade away.

When I dare to peek out again, Rummy has disappeared. I scan the surrounding trees and peer nervously over my shoulder, but I can't spot him anywhere. I wait for what seems like an eternity before crawling out from my hiding spot. One eye on my surroundings, I brush the worst of the mud and leaves from my clothes. Jody appears at the top of the ridge, and I signal to her that it's safe to come down. She turns away from me and makes a graceful descent, using the roots for support as she lowers herself back to the ground.

"Lucky break," she says. "I thought for sure the patrol was on to you."

"We're not out of danger yet," I say, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder.

She frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Rummy's here. Hiding out. He must be trying to contact Blade."

Jody's eyes widen. "Did he see you?"

"Yeah, but he won't give me up. The last person he wants to talk to is The Ghost."

"No telling what he might do to save his own skin." Jody furrows her brow. "It's too dangerous to try and rescue Curly now with the patrol lagging behind and Rummy nosing around. We should stick to our original plan and set up an ambush."

I pull my lips into a tight line. "Rummy better not mess this up." I shoulder my pack and give the straps a quick tug to secure it. "If he makes his move before us, he'll put the Rogues on high alert, and whatever chance we have of rescuing Curly will be shot."

S
ven looks visibly relieved
when we show back up. "I was about to go searching for you. What took you so long?"

"We had a close call," I say. "Turns out Rummy's following the Rogues too."

Sven whistles. "He doesn't want to leave without Blade."

I nod. "That's my guess."

"It could complicate things for us," Jody says.

"I'll tell the clones to keep an eye out for him," Sven says. "What do you want us to do if we spot him?"

"Take him alive," I say. "He may agree to help us once he hears our plan. It would be his best shot of getting Blade out of there."

We load up our gear and continue tracking the Rogues from a safe distance until the dappled green light on the trail fades to dusk and the patchworked understory assumes a nighttime pall. Amidst the shadows, we creep silently closer to where the Rogues are setting up camp. From beneath a dense patch of ferns, I watch the activity through binoculars. The campfire in the center flickers and snaps to the sound of muffled chatter. Several armed guards patrol the perimeter. I grimace. The Ghost isn't about to make the same mistake twice.

I turn to Sven. "We should split up now. I'll take half the military clones ahead on the trail and scout out the best spots for sniper positions."

"I'm coming with you," Sven says. "My men can handle the rear attack."

I'm still shaken from my encounter with Rummy so I don't argue with him. This time, I want Sven at my side. "Tell your men to follow the Rogues as soon as they break camp in the morning. No one's to fire off a shot until we confirm Curly's position. We can't take the chance of him being hit in the crossfire."

Sven wastes no time dividing the clones into two groups. "Wait for my signal to attack," he instructs the group that will strike from the rear.

I turn to Jody. "You and the rest of the riders flank the Rogues from the East and get Curly out of there as soon as they scatter."

Jody gives a curt nod. She turns to go but then hesitates. "Whatever happens, thank you for coming. Curly would have done the same for any of us in a heartbeat." She reaches for her pack and gestures to the riders to follow her.

Sven and I take the first group of clones on a circuitous route around the Rogues' camp, clambering over downed trees and traversing streams to avoid any chance of encountering a patrol. Once we're a safe distance ahead on the trail, we start searching for the best section of forest canopy to conceal ourselves in. We need to be situated far enough back from the trail to be protected from random shots, but close enough to allow for accuracy when it comes to picking off the Rogues.

After some debate, we settle on a dense patch of oak, birch and hemlock trees of varying heights. "We might as well eat first and rest for a few hours before we get into position." I toss my pack down. "We won't see any action until morning." I offer some jerky around, but the clones decline and pull out sachets of lyophilized food.

"You can't live off that stuff forever," I say. "Jerky's a much more rewarding experience anyway--gives you something to chew on."

A smile tugs at the corners of Sven's mouth. He's become accustomed to real food, but it took some time for his stomach to adjust. I can't help but wonder what he'd think of a pint of chocolate chip ice cream, or a giant bag of nacho cheese-flavored Doritos. Saliva pools beneath my tongue. I wet my lips, caught off guard by a slew of forgotten memories triggered by my senses.

After we eat Sven assigns the first shift to two military clones, and the rest of us bed down in the foliage, burrowing into the thick layers of half-mulched leaves to keep warm. I shiver, eying the shadowy canopy above with sleepy eyes. My thoughts turn to Rummy. Stumbling across him earlier was a shocker. I don't know why he didn't make tracks out of here days ago and put as much distance between himself and The Ghost as possible. Does he really think he can talk his brother into deserting? That might be why The Ghost's keeping Blade close by his side--he's using him as bait to draw Rummy in. I yawn and shift around to make myself more comfortable, the Rogues' tattooed faces gradually blurring together in my mind.

When I wake, only half-lucid, Sven towers over me. "It's almost dawn."

I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes. "Where are the clones?"

He points above my head. "They're in position. I tried to wake you earlier but you were so groggy I took pity on you."

I run my hands through my tousled hair.

"There's a decent oak tree over there with plenty of perches," Sven says. "Room for two."

I throw him a wary look. "Sounds cozy, but we'll be more effective if we spread out. I don't need you to cover me."

"No, but you are gonna need a leg up." He grins. "The lowest branch is head height,
my
head height."

I take a quick detour into the brush before making my way over to where Sven is standing beneath a sprawling oak tree. He's not kidding about its height. The trunk yawns upward as far as I can stretch my neck to see, its girth easily ten feet across. The tree's dense, wide-spreading branches and plateaus of leaves create a colossal living umbrella, ideal for concealing several people. Clustered around it are hemlocks, the drooping, feathery ends of their branches adding another layer of seclusion to our hiding spot.

Sven gives me a leg up and I begin a painstaking ascent, securing the heel of my boot with every step before I push off to the next branch.

By the time I reach a height that allows me a full view of the trail, snatches of streaky bacon sky are peeking through the foliage. Any time now the Rogues will be heading north again. I crawl into a generous fork between two boughs and balance precariously against the trunk, the thick, irregular scales of bark protruding into my back. I resign myself to the most uncomfortable wait of my life. At least the pain will keep me from nodding off and tumbling to the ground below.

I run through our plan again in my head. Everything depends on the element of surprise. And for that, we need Rummy to lie low. If we can wreak enough havoc on the Rogues and force them to scatter it will give the riders an opportunity to get Curly out of there. But if the Rogues decide to fight, we could be in for a bloody battle with the same men who, days earlier, fought with us against the Sweepers. It all seems so pointless. If only The Ghost could forget Rummy and let the past go.

I stiffen at muffled voices. A moment later someone barks out an order that carries through the tree tops. I signal to Sven, but the clones are already on alert. Their enhanced faculties are a huge advantage in a situation like this. I can't gauge how far away the Rogues are. I get into position to shoot, but my muscles quickly cramp up and I stretch back out, listening for footsteps. Before long the sound of a large number of people moving through the brush reaches my ears. When the first Rogue strides into view, I clench my jaw and line up my sight. Four, five, eight armed men go by. A trickle of sweat inches its way down one side of my nose but I don't dare move a finger to swipe at it.

Several more Rogues appear and then I spot The Ghost and Blade. I signal to Sven to get ready.

Another handful of Rogues march by, scanning the brush on either side of the trail. Still no sign of Curly. My nerves are beginning to unravel. He was limping yesterday. Maybe they moved him to the back of the pack so he doesn't hold them up. Not a safe position once the second group of military clones attacks from the rear.

My apprehension turns to dread when the last of the Rogues march by--followed by a heavily armed patrol. I throw a quick glance in Sven's direction. He raises his brows questioningly, and I signal to him to hold his fire.

The Rogues bootlace through the trees until they're out of sight and their footsteps have deadened. My pulse hammers in my temples. Did they kill Curly? Or leave him somewhere for dead? Either way, we're going to have to backtrack and look for him. I whistle like a wood thrush to signal to the clones that we're retreating. Ignoring Sven's offer of assistance, I jump from the last branch and land with a soft thud in a thick carpet of moss. A moment later Jody and the riders emerge from the forest. "What happened?" Jody asks. "We waited for your signal."

"I exhale. "He wasn't with them."

Jody's eyes burrow into me. Alarm works its way across her face. "We have to find him."

"We will, but you need to ... prepare yourself."

She sways gently back and forth as if reeling from the insinuation that Curly might be dead. Her eyes moisten. "If they killed him, we might never find him. They could have buried him anywhere."

The brush behind us rustles. A sinister laugh sets my skin on fire. "Curly ain't two foot under yet."