Masked (7 page)

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Well we can’t all stay cooped up here,” Trent said. “I’ll end up killing one of you for sure, and I have no doubt that when the coast is clear, Douglas will be making a visit here. I’m sure he’s already guessed where we’d go. And I’m sure he’s not pleased we have your girl.”

Charlotte’s cheeks warmed at his words. Not that she was embarrassed, it was just strange to hear other people call her Pete’s girl. For a while there, she thought she’d never be with him again. She was convinced she had finally fallen in love, only to have it ripped away again.

“He won’t be able to get here with the patrols out in full force,” Tyler confirmed.

“Where do you think he is?” Pete said.

“Douglas always had a number of safe houses,” Michael answered, getting up and stretching out his back. “He could be anywhere. Although, I think it would be a safe bet to say he’s probably still in the city. He would have stayed close, because of the girls. We’ll have to use this time to our advantage.”

Charlotte was suddenly thankful that Pete’s father’s house was on the outskirts of the city. Initially she had been pissed that she was so far from where Bridgette was, but it looked like it had been a blessing in disguise. If they were still in the centre of the eastern ghetto, they would have been confined to one building, and in more danger of being discovered by either one of their enemies.

Michael walked by her, heading into the kitchen. “Tea, darling?” he called out.

“Sure,” Garrett answered.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Garrett smiled at her, winking. “Yes, thank you,” she replied, raising her voice so he could hear her.

“I’ll have one too, da,” Pete added.

“I wasn’t talking to you either,” came his reply.

“Only Charlotte gets refreshments around here?” Pete asked, hands splayed in mock outrage.

“Yup,” Michael answered, poking his head out. “She’s the best looking out of you lot.”

Charlotte giggled, liking the way Pete’s father seemed to embrace her easily. He didn’t judge her for who, or what, she had been before. He just accepted her for who she was now. It warmed her. No one had ever been like that – well, except Pete. She looked up at him. She loved him so much, it sometimes felt like her heart would burst from the emotion. He looked down to catch her gaze, and a slow smile stretched across his face. He leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear.

“I love you too,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Maybe I can read minds now too,” he said, pulling back to look at her.

She scrunched up her nose in disbelief.

He chuckled softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Your eyes say it all, love.” He kissed her forehead then stood up again.

“I have an idea, but we’ll need to figure out the specifics of it,” Michael said from the kitchen.

“What do you have in mind?” Pete asked, sitting on the arm of the chair. His hand splayed across the nape of her neck, playing absently with her hair.

“There’s another group over in the western ghetto, they call themselves the Archers. They’re like us, focused on repairing our world and getting rid of Ludwig and his New World army,” Michael answered.

“Why haven’t we heard about them then?” Trent asked.

“They like to work alone,” he said, poking his head out from the kitchen briefly before disappearing again. “They’ve known about us this whole time, but they didn’t want to get involved. We’re too indiscreet, apparently.”

“Says who?” Pete defended.

“Says them. All I know is that they’ve wanted nothing to do with us when we were under the General. From the impression I got, they weren’t fond of him. I think Douglas tried to recruit them before. They don’t take kindly to people trying to order them around. That’s a warning for you.”

“So what do you suggest?” Trent said.

“We should tell them we’re on our own, and ask for refuge until our territory isn’t so infested with soldiers,” Tyler suggested before Michael could respond.

“And how do we get from here to the western ghetto?” Pete asked.

“Or inside, for that matter,” Trent added.

“Well, those would be the details we’d have to work out,” Michael answered.

“Great,” Seamus muttered.

Pete sighed. “We can’t even get into the ghetto on this side of the city, Da. What makes you think we’re going to be able to get all the way across it to another?”

“Their eyes are over here, they’re not going to be looking for us over there. It’s a viable option,” Tyler pointed out.

“How would we contact them to see if they’d even let us stay there?” Trent questioned.

“I’ll phone Harvey and ask,” Michael said, appearing suddenly with a steaming cup of tea. Charlotte took it from him with thanks.

“Who in the devil is Harvey?” Garrett asked, his brows puckered in confusion.

“The original Archer,” Michael replied as if that were obvious. “He’s too old to take part in much now, but I’m sure once he knows it’s my boys coming over, he’ll be more than happy to keep you lot safe. Well, until one of yas opens his mouth.”

“Do you think they’ll work with us?” Charlotte asked, looking up at him.

“. The fact that we’re no longer following the General will work in our favour. Doesn’t mean they’ll team up with us for sure, but it’s a good start.”

“We still have to figure out how we’re going to get there,” Pete reminded them.

“How do you boys feel about coffins?”

As soon as she closed her eyes, Tommy Boy was there. Images of his lifeless eyes, the pool of blood, the loud echoing of the shot – it was all waiting for her as she tried to fall asleep. Giving up, Bridgette shoved off her covers with a huff. She wasn’t cut out for this sort of life. She couldn’t watch people be shot to death in front of her, and just continue on as though nothing happened. Tommy Boy might have been a rat, but he was still a person. A person who hadn’t deserved to be killed.

He tried to kill you
, she reminded herself. That didn’t make his loss any easier, or justifiable, in her mind. How could Charlotte have done this for so long? It was no wonder she was hardened now, more than ever before. Bridgette hadn’t spent much time with her before coming here, but she had seen enough to know that her sister had changed in many ways. Just watching her mouth off to their father while he ordered another man to beat her had proven to Bridgette that her little sister had grown up into a hard-edged woman.

What had life been like for her, growing up through her teenage years with only Roman and Ludwig to offer her guidance? Bridgette had so many questions when it came to her sister, but she wouldn’t have the chance to ask them if she didn’t complete her father’s plan. There was no doubt in her mind that Douglas Hatcher wouldn’t even blink if it came to killing his youngest daughter.

She looked over at the duffle bag sitting in the corner of her room. Inside it was a bomb the size of a small electronic apparatus with enough power to destroy more than half the building. Her father had told her to either set it in the basement or up on the roof. Either choice would offer plenty of destruction. She
was not
to put it in the actual room, she was told. He was afraid they’d scan the room for any bugs before the meeting. Apparently the device would show up on such a scan.

How anyone could get in to plant a device was beyond her – well, except she was going to do it. Her situation was slightly different though. If it wasn’t for the disguise of Weapon X, she’d never have gotten into this building. It had more soldiers securing it than she thought necessary, but it definitely made it hard for enemies to infiltrate it.

With all this in mind, she decided she might as well get some work done if she couldn’t sleep. The clock said it was two in the morning. Hopefully she could wear off some energy to the point where she’d just crash without her mind going over that day’s horrible events.

Donning her mask and black clothes, minus boots and the tape she wore to flatten her chest, she headed out of her room. There weren’t very many people walking the halls at this time of night, so she felt safe to venture out the way she was. No one would see her anyway, where she was going.

It took a while to find them, but eventually Bridgette found the stairs that led up to the roof area. By the time she got there, she was out of breath. Climbing that many floors definitely left a burn in her thighs and calves. She wasn’t sure if the door would lock behind her, so just to be safe she placed a brick that happened to be near it in the opening.

Walking to the edge of the building, she sucked in a breath at the view waiting for her. New Berlin – all of it. The city lay beneath her, as far as the eye could see. The high fences separating the upper section from the ghettos chopped the city into pieces, creating almost an octagon shape that surrounded the inner city where the buildings weren’t quite as run down, and the people weren’t as repressed. There was the eastern and western ghetto, but both areas curved, hugging that upper section around the outside, their areas dark and ugly looking in comparison.

Electricity wasn’t as readily available in those areas, the old street posts no longer shining down on the shiny black surfaces of the wet pavement. Lights in open windows of houses still habitable flickered, not from bulbs, but from the candles they were forced to use in substitution. So many buildings were nothing but shadows, their walls crumbled and destroyed, no longer safe for people to live in.

Her eyes moved away from the area that had been her home only last week, and looked to the western ghetto, only to see much of the same thing. She didn’t know much about that side of the city, but she knew they weren’t much better off.

Both areas surrounded the jewel that was downtown New Berlin. She scanned her closer surroundings, admiring how the buildings had been re-built and repaired to look just as they had before the war. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought the horror of bombs and gunfire had never touched this area of the world. It was as though a protective shield had surrounded it, saving the buildings there from being destroyed to nothing but rubble.

But she knew better. This area had taken just as big a hit. Ludwig Tennebris set about reconstructing it almost immediately. The results were amazing, the people in blissful ignorance of what the world had really become. They lived as though nothing had changed, even though more than half the world’s population was now dead, and those still alive lived poorly. Did they care? She didn’t think so. Not once had she come across an Upper willing to help those who lived beyond those fences separating the city. Even the ones she had met while dancing at the Red Lounge didn’t care that when she went home at night, it wasn’t to a comfortable apartment in a safe neighbourhood. No, it was to a small, rundown room in a building that looked as if a strong wind could blow it over.

It had been better than nothing though, Bridgette thought. She knew others lived even worse than she did, so who was she to complain? Life wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t horrible either. Or at least, it hadn’t been, until she ended up here. If only the next week and half would go by quicker, without any more blood spilled. Then she would return to her father, get her sister, and leave. Where? She wasn’t sure. But she knew there were still ways to get out of the city to the outskirts, and travel into the countryside. It wasn’t necessarily the safest, but it was better than staying here and dealing with her father’s insanity. There were rumours of criminals littering the countryside, dangerous and violent people who refused to live within the city limits. Bridgette wasn’t scared. With Charlotte and McKay by her side, and whoever else chose to leave with them, she was sure they could make it to one of the smaller villages that hadn’t been completely destroyed. A quiet life, that’s what she needed.

“What are you doing up here?”

CHAPTER SIX

Roman stood close to her, the heat of his body radiating through the fabric of her shirt to warm her skin. She shivered, his voice always rippling through her like a caress. Gathering her fractured thoughts, she answered, “I just needed some air.”

Bridgette sensed him take a step closer, but didn’t turn to face him. “I thought you’re scared of heights,” he said.

“No, that was always Ch –” She stopped herself, her pulse racing at the narrow slip. “Uh, a joke. That was always a joke. I was just kidding when I told you that.” Her words were rushed and jumbled together.

Roman moved to stand beside her, just within her peripheral vision. She watched him from the corner of her eye, taking in the firm set of his jaw and focused gaze of his dark eyes.

“You were practically green when I took you up in that fighter jet that one time.”

Bridgette shrugged. “I guess I just got over it then.”

He grunted, but didn’t push the subject. “Nice night,” he commented.

She nodded, keeping her gaze on the city below. “Were you born in the city?” she asked, curious.

He turned to look at her but she didn’t meet his eyes. “No,” he answered, his voice betraying his surprise at the question. “I grew up all over the place really. My parents were…well, let’s just say they had no business having a kid. I learned from an early age to rely on myself for everything. I spent more time cleaning up after them and taking care of them than they ever did for me. By thirteen I’d had it, and sort of moved around from place to place.”