New World Ashes (15 page)

His eyes shifted between mine, searching for something. “I promise, to tell you what I know. And I will do whatever it takes to get that fiery girl back that I first met in that cell. Because right now, this wisp of a girl standing before me is useless.”

He was telling the truth, somehow I could sense it, but it was the flicker of a pleased smile that made something in my body tingle with apprehension. I let go of his arm.

Mouse trusts him.
I reminded myself.

I followed Ryker to the hatch, pocketing the little white pills. My once dormant mind had started to work again. It felt rusty. “That night the cameras in my cell went out and I broke your nose—”

Ryker cut me off, pausing as he held back the hatch door. “That was first time I tried to help you escape.
Someone
screwed that up a bit.”

His eyes glittered with mingled anger and irony. I cringed at the thought of how much sooner I could have been set free, of the two people who wouldn’t have had to die if I had just trusted him. I turned my back on him and lead the way down the stairs, trying not to think of dead bodies.

“I still don’t trust you.” I said over my shoulder.

Ryker chuckled, his smile now evident in his tone when he replied. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,
Princess
.”

“Call me that again and I will do more than break your nose.” I growled.

“Just remember, Prea—Keep up or we’re done here.”

“Duly noted.” I shot back.

TRIVEN STEPPED THROUGH
the panel in the wall just as we reached the landing. He eyed us with curiosity, but said nothing as we approached. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me before focusing on Ryker. He was calculating something. What, I couldn’t be sure. Triven’s face softened as his eyes met mine again. I stopped in front of him, standing too close for politeness but still not quite touching. He knew better than to reach for me, instead he waited for me to speak. Ryker left us and headed for the table. I did my best to again ignore him, but Triven’s eyes followed his recession before returning to mine.

“I should have come to get you sooner, but you needed the sleep,” I said. Even now after a few hours of rest there were still dark rings under his eyes.

“I’m not the only one.” Triven observed my own weary face.

I shook my head, doubting that sleep would ever be an easy part of my life again. There were too many memories, too much time for my subconscious to chatter without distractions. No, sleep was never going to be easy.

I changed the subject before he could further object to my lack of sleep. “When is the next rebels’ meeting?”

Triven’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t look too surprised by my sudden change of interest. “Tonight, actually. After dinner.”

“I want to go.” I said firmly.

“I figured it was only a matter of time.” Triven smiled his annoyingly all-knowing smile, but the warmth didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Dinner was an agonizingly slow event, everyone chewing his or her mush with sluggish concentration. I finished in about five minutes and stared at the others, wondering what exactly it was they were still masticating since the food was primarily pulp. I tried once to bring up the rebels’ plans, but was promptly silenced by the formidable Mae.

“No business at my dinner table.” She glared hard over her plate of grey slop. Her dark eyes flitted to Mouse as if to say ‘
Not in front of the child.’

I rolled my eyes.

“Technically it’s
his
table.” I jerked my chin in Ryker’s direction. He choked on his food, sputtering and prompting Inessa to smack his back in a motherly fashion. Next to me Triven stifled a smile. It seemed at least he still found my boldness amusing.

“
My
cooking,
my
table.” Mae puffed out her substantial bosom. “You want to make the rules at dinner, next time
you
cook.”

Triven did laugh this time, but at least had the good judgment not to meet my glare when I turned toward him. Even Mouse was grinning, her head bent over her plate.

“Fine.
Your
table,
your
rules.” I nodded curtly at the dark-haired woman. My energy would be better served focusing on taking out The Minister rather than learning to cook. Mae could have her little dinner table talk. After all, was it not I who would be driving the next conversation? The
important
conversation?

Let her cook. I could prepare to serve up a war.

My table, my rules
. I smirked to myself. We would talk war, she could do the dishes.

TO MY DISAPPOINTMENT,
there was actually very little for me to plan in the way of assassinations. It seemed most strategies had already been set in motion. I sat in the back of the tiny room. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple. The room was crowded, crammed with fifteen bodies shifting and restless. I had chosen the seat in the corner, farthest from the main table and hidden from the pendant’s rim of light. Mouse perched alert at my side, her skinny legs folding over themselves. Triven sat in front of me, not obscuring my vision but allowing me a reprieve from curious eyes. I never knew how he always seemed to understand what I wanted, but he did. He also seemed to be trying extra hard after his confession of drugging me.

Sitting on the outskirts of the dim light, hidden behind Triven’s broad shoulders, I could easily see every face in the room. I could watch every movement, evaluate each person as they spoke. It reminded me of all the times I had watched the Tribes from above in Tartarus. Nearly invisible, but wholly present—I was a ghost in both worlds.

I had listened to them talk. Listened and watched. It felt normal.

We had been confined in the room for nearly half an hour now, and I was yet to speak. Triven had subtly steered the discussion, asking the questions he knew I would want to hear. He was buying me time. Giving me answers and letting me process things. In Tartarus I knew my place. I dominated the city with knowledge that was far superior to others, but here… I was in the dark when it came to The Sanctuary and Triven was handing me a narrow-beamed flashlight. I clung to it.

Their plans were far more advanced than the Subversive’s had been. Technologies here changed everything. Tartarus barely had enough power to light a few buildings, but here electricity ran their entire world. Even my mind had a hard time grasping the depth of it all. Cameras were in every home, on every street, watching every move these people made. Every second of their lives was accounted for. Every breath, every meal recorded. All of the rebels’ homes had been overridden, of course. Loops played at random, cutting in and out as people left or returned from their homes. Homes were connected through facility tunnels like the one we had hidden in so long ago. Their precautions were well planned and meticulous. Their meetings were never held in the same blockhouse and the group never met in its entirety. They never risked losing the entire rebellion if exposed. Tonight’s was being held in Mae’s blockhouse—which was almost identical to the one in Ryker’s home.

Their plans had been years in the making. Plans that had already been set in motion. Plans that could no longer be stopped. The rebels had grown in numbers over the last few years. Their infiltration of the city had been slow and well thought out. Like a cancer, slowly spreading its way through the lymphatic system until it was too late to take action against it.

In three weeks’ time, The Wall was going to lose power. The grid was going to come down for the first time in nearly a century. The Sanctuary would be exposed to the city it once ostracized—and all of its inhabitants. It was then that the rebels were going to launch an attack, with the Ministries’ forces divided and weakened.

My selfish anger had only allowed me to set my sights on The Minister, but the rebels weren’t just looking for an assassination. They wanted a complete culling of the government. They were taking down the beast, not just cutting off its head, as I had once preached. Still, I wasn’t sure they understood what their freedom might cost them.

I studied each person in turn. Some of the faces I had seen on other nights at the dinner table but tonight there were several I had not seen before. Among the familiar were Mae, Inessa, Ryker, and a man who reminded me very much of Doc Porters.

One light-haired male was tall and lean, with thick hands and a slow steady manner about him. His fingers were calloused, knuckles raw. My mind automatically ran through the labor-intensive jobs required by The Sanctuary. He was certainly manual labor.

A dark-haired female about my age sat next to Ryker, her head bent, her shoulders curved in slightly. Her fingers were thin and nimble, but her hands steady. She caught me staring and surprisingly held my gaze before returning to the conversation at hand. Not a soldier, but not a manual worker either.

An older man with peppered hair and dirt under his nails—groundskeeper. A man with flaming red hair and matching raw skin up to his elbows—chemical laundry services. A flighty woman with tapping fingers—computer systems engineer.  A middle-aged woman with severe posture and a stern face—soldier.

My brain mechanically clicked over each person.
Click, click, click, click…
A sensation of dread washed over me. It seemed my mind had finally begun to turn back on. A part of me was awake again. And it didn’t like the math.

Four soldiers. Eleven civilians.

Eleven
liabilities.

Rebels surrounded us, but there were only four trained soldiers among them. A shocking reality hit me. This wasn’t Tartarus. These people hadn’t had to fight for their lives. To kill or be killed. They were repressed, scared… and if they started a war, they might just die that way. I wanted The Minister dead. That was my end game. I didn’t care about politics or running a city. After his death I could walk away. I could protect Mouse. Maybe even learn to live with Triven by my side. But what of these people? Killing The Minister meant nothing to them. They wanted to overthrow the entire system. But opening The Wall would be like unleashing hell into Eden. These people were innocent and naked with their naivety. If the Ministry fell they would be nothing more than lambs for slaughter. The Tribes were not a weapon that could be easily controlled. Once their part in the plan was complete, there would be no forcing them back into Tartarus. You can’t just release the Titans from their cage and then expect them to go quietly back in.

My mind roared with thoughts, Ryker’s voice barely carrying over my internal din.

“The Minister knows the rebellion is growing in strength, but thanks to Zeek and Fiona his mark is way off target. Currently soldiers are rounding up civilians at random, people of suspicion, relatives of those previously involved.” His bright eyes fell on Triven pointedly, and then shifted to Inessa. “I fear some of us are at higher risk than others.”

Inessa held her head high. “We knew the risk when we joined the rebellion.”

“Do you? Do you
really
know what you’re risking?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the subsequent silence confirmed it was heard. Every head but Triven’s turned to stare at me.

“Of course we know—” Mae began, but I cut her off.

“
I’m
not sure you do.” I shifted behind Triven, glaring at each person in the room as I spoke. “To ensure the death of your government, you are willing to unleash hell and all its demons upon your city. You may be able to overthrow the Ministry, but how many innocent lives are you willing to sacrifice to make that happen? How many of your women will be defiled? How many of your children will be slain before you achieve your victory? Tens? Hundreds? Because in the end their blood will be on
your
hands, not the Ministry’s.”

Several rebels looked away in shame, only Ryker and the other soldiers held my gaze.

The austere-faced female soldier spoke in a terse tone. “We are aware of what the Tribes—”

“
Really?
You are
aware
of the Tribes? Are you
aware
of how they hunt? That they play by no rules but their own? That their only desire is to survive and they will do anything to see that happen? How many of you have set foot outside of your precious Wall? How many loved ones have you witnessed raped and maimed? How many allies have you seen bleed out before you?” My voice pitched with a bit of hysteria. Triven’s shoulders tensed, but he remained still, keeping his face forward. I forced myself to calm down and closed my eyes to fight back the onslaught of memories. I took a deep breath.
Steady…

“I want nothing more than to see The Minister and everything he stands for fall—preferably at my own hands—but to involve the Tribes? The Ravagers are in the Minister’s pocket for now. But regardless of their current alliance, once you open The Wall there will be nothing stopping them from turning on the entire Sanctuary—Ministry and rebels alike. This Tribe—these savages—will stop at nothing. And the other Tribes are equally unpredictable. It won’t just be The Minister fighting a battle from all sides. You will be in the center ring beside him, a gun pointed at you from every direction.”

Mouse’s tiny hands took hold of mine, steadying them. I hadn’t even been aware they were shaking.

Ryker spoke with the cool air of a military official. “Pre—Phoenix speaks the truth, as did Triven before her. The Tribes are not a weapon that can be honed for use. They are deadly and unpredictable, but still, enemy of thy enemy is thy friend.”

I didn’t like where this was heading.

Ryker continued. “The rebels have come to an agreement. While we know little of your world outside our walls, you know less of ours within. We will take care of
our
end, if you take care of
yours
.”