“Ride with me.” Hasta rolls up in an empty cart.
I lift the little boy he shielded from the Centrum guards before our rescue. A toothless grin breaks loose when he hears Hasta’s voice. Close up he's younger than I thought. Maybe seven years old, but it could be from lack of nutrition.
His dirty brown hair hangs over his round eyes made bigger from carved hollow cheeks and a pointy chin. He’s too thin, too frail, but still has a playfulness in him. He holds a shaking boney fist out to Hasta. They fist bump, and then he turns to the waiting cart, ready for me to place him in the seat.
“Let’s go.” I move to the passenger seat of Hasta's cart, but he points to the cargo hold.
“Get in the back and lie down. These next fifteen minutes may be your last chance to sleep for a while.”
“What about you?”
“I…sleep isn’t the same for me. Not any more.” His brows lower and the steering wheel whines under his grip.
I remember Cole’s words about what they do to captives in the lab. Their drugged forced sleep only means more attention from the doctors in the morning.
I nod and jump into the cart. I lean my back against his chair and close my eyes. Because Hasta's right, when we arrive in the bunker we'll have no rest. We have dozens of traumatized civilians and questioning warriors to settle. And I’ll have to tell him about Rosa.
***
“We’re almost there.” Hasta's voice breaks through my haze.
But just barely, I'm still groggy with sleep and fuzzy. I blink and groan at the crick in my neck. And my left arm is dead asleep and heavy. I want to sink back down but it's too late for that.
I try to sit up and black silky strands slide down my neck and chest. I blink in confusion. Nix’s head rolls back tilting her face up to me and zapping feeling back into my arm. Her lashes fan against porcelain skin and her rose petal lips are slightly parted in her sleep. She’s beautiful without her scowl.
Her long legs are curled into her lean form and her arms wrap around her middle. She’s holding herself together, even in sleep. The cart takes a turn and I curl my arm tight to keep her from tumbling. Her chin tilts back further. I follow the long line of her elegant neck to the delicate scrolls of her warrior marks highlighting each collarbone.
She stirs with a soft plea from whatever dream is haunting her. I release my hold and give her a shake. My arm prickles awake and I’m transported to a faraway tree top with a tiny caramel haired warrior in my arms.
Nix blinks up through wet thick lashes. But the flat green peering up at me is wrong. It doesn't flash with fire. And the spicy air surrounding her stings, instead of embracing me in sweet golden calm.
“Warriors, line up and…” The captain’s command trails off and my cloud of sleep vanishes.
My head snaps up to find that fiery glare I was imagining flash over me. Nix sits up and rolls her shoulders back before jumping off the cart. And I'm still slumped against Hasta's seat, following the captain's retreating form with my arm coming back to life.
“You heard the captain, move it.” Kane’s massive chest blocks my view.
I meet his narrow, deep-sea judgment. His stare tells me what a dumb ass I am. I arch a brow back at him as if I had any control over what happened while I was asleep. His flared nostrils tell me I had control over what happened when I woke.
My long audible exhale lowers my shoulders. Yes, I studied Nix longer and closer than I should have, but I wasn’t fully awake yet and my mind was on Nugget. Kane rolls his eyes and stalks off. And that’s when I finally understand how to communicate with him without saying a word.
“Let me give you some life saving advice.” Julian takes a few steps toward me, away from his blonde friend.
Their hands are clasped tight, arms stretching across the distance when she stays put. I tilt my head around him for a better look at her. She’s definitely a civilian. She's more sure in her stance since we rescued her from the Centrum transport. Julian shifts his body in front of me and again my observation is obstructed.
“Do yourself a favor and stay away from that one.” He nods towards Nix who helps Cole adjust the tubes connected to General Targe’s IV drips. “She’s a mirage.”
He slaps me hard on the shoulder and leaves me fighting the urge to rub away the ache. I want to dismiss anything that comes out of Julian's mouth, but I remember Hasta's quick acceptance of him during our escape.
“Oren.” General Elmar comes in clear through the comm.
“Sir.”
“We need your clearance to enter.”
“On my way, sir.”
I jump off the cart and jog to the nearest group of civs to help. All the carts are in lined rows, in a parking lot in front of a metal corrugated warehouse. I steady a man with balding hair and he clings to my forearms with an impressive grip.
“You’re ok now.” I lower my voice and attempt a small smile.
“I know. Thanks to you. To all of you. Thank you.” His eyes water and his thin lips tremble beneath an unruly dark beard. “Thank you.” He murmurs over and over again releasing his hold.
Others start to pick up his chant of thanks. Some hug the warriors next to them. Many are smiling, and others cry in relief, while most straighten and stand taller. There, reflecting in each one's eyes is the fight that burns inside every human. The light this world tries to stamp out. Tries to extinguish time and time again. They’ve shaken off the subdued tortured existence Centrum forced on them.
Because it’s human nature to fight. As long as we breathe, an ember waits to blaze again. And it’s here. Fueling warriors and civilians alike. Igniting every heart. This small band of frail civilians and too few warriors are standing up to the greater good. Joined together in hope of the greater for all.
“Oren, let’s get everyone inside and taken care of." The general’s summon has my warrior instinct running to meet an officer’s command.
Even when I want to stay a little longer. I reach the sliding metal entrance and find the general and Iva working the keypad.
“Sir, how can I help?”
“Algar, you're dismissed.” The general surveys the crowd around us. “Everyone clear the area, except you, Hasta.” Boots and murmurs fade to the background.
“Hasta, I understand you’re familiar with these facilities.” The general awaits his reply.
He gives the general a nod, looks at me, and lowers his eyes to the keypad.
“Your father brought me down here a few weeks before the festival. He said that if anything ever happened to him or his family, I’d need to bring the general here.” Hasta shifts on his feet.
“I…I lost my two year old niece and both parents in the attacks. Grief consumed me and I didn’t even remember this place until his package arrived a month later. I’m sorry, Rain. We...we wasted so much time because of me. Things would’ve been different…and Rosa. I left her all alone for so many years because…”
I place my hand on his shoulder and give him a gentle squeeze. His muscles are solid but his frame shakes with unshed tears, guilt, and rage.
“No. This is on the ones that caused all this. Always remember that.” The general sounds just like his daughter telling me to remember where the blame lies.
“Hasta, you’re here now. We’re here now. It’s not too late.” I shake him hoping to release his thoughts from the past.
But who am I to be so hopeful, to give a pep talk? Maybe the determination and resilience of the weary, ragged civilian’s back there is catching.
He breathes deep and lifts his head.
“It’s your blood. Your father said everything in the underground, the facilities, the answer to our survival is in your blood. Oren blood.” Hasta gestures to the keypad.
I raise my hand and place it on the DNA scanner. The lights glow blue before the mechanics click and whirl. I brace myself for the pin prick to draw my blood. Instead, metal bands strap my hand to the pad in an immovable vice.
A thin double sided razor blade extends from the top of the pad. It sinks just below the surface sliding toward my hand. I bite my tongue when the first slash slices into my palm. The general grabs a band and tries to pry it off, but it won't budge. I release a strangled yell into the uniform sleeve of my free arm.
I urge my power back as it rushes to heal and set me free. I can't expose myself in front of the general. I have to endure this on my own. The blade moves fast in sharp stings across my skin leaving arcs and lines of bloody gashes in its wake. The pad greedily absorbs my blood, weaving it in a pattern on the keypad's digital screen.
Hasta gasps. “It’s the crest, the Oren crest.”
The last piercing line of my warrior mark is carved into me and the keypad chimes. It sounds like a dinner bell ringing three times. The metal bands release me and the keypad shuts down. I pull my mangled hand into my chest and the general wraps a handkerchief around it.
Hasta tries the sliding door and a lock releases. The buzz and hum of heavy machines powering up bounces off the concrete and stone. And the expanse of the area lights up in soft yellow light. Cobblestone walkways weave through empty beds of dark rich soil and buildings.
There are so many buildings illuminated with foot lamps and streetlights. Locks and mechanics click and clack all around us. The sounds follow the trail of lights moving deeper inside. It’s as if the entire underground is alive and eager to display everything that’s been waiting for us.
“Wonder what's in that blood of yours?” Hasta murmurs.
I uncurl my hand and peek under the soaked handkerchief. The damage is already healing, and healthy pink skin takes over. I keep my head down under the burn of their stares. My mind loops to Hasta’s question. What's in my blood?
“The map shows this first building to be a warehouse with supplies. Let’s see what we have to work with, hopefully some food and water.” The general breaks the silence and I release a breath. “Sergeant Gray, Geir, take your men inside.”
Turns out the storage warehouse is loaded with weapons and combat gear. All the warriors are salivating. And every cart and warrior is loaded up and moving on to the bunker where a medical area and the entrance to my home is. It’s the rendezvous point. Where support from the village and the academy will be waiting with supplies the civilians need.
Coming from the opposite end, we reach the medical area first. The private bunker and office are ahead. The same office Rosa hid the book my father sent Hasta.
“Set up those that need medical attention on the cots. I’ll open the surface entrance for the medics with their supplies.” The general races toward the staircase that leads to my home.
I want to follow him. I want to go back inside my home again, but it’s not time yet.
“Rosa will be with the food and water supplies.” Hasta’s smile crinkles his eyes and he shakes his hands out at his sides. “I’m nervous, if you can believe that. But I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. It's what got me through. And my promise to your dad.”
My gut rolls sick and my heart beats too fast. I pull him away from the stairs and closer to my father’s office. A cold clammy sweat breaks out and I swallow hard.
“Hasta, she won’t be coming.” I don’t want to look at him, but what’s my discomfort with what he’s about to hear?
“Of course she will. With a few fists ready for taking too long to return, if I know my Rosie.” He chuckles and tries to step around me.
When I block his path a third time his smile falters and he takes a step back.
“There was a wall breach, here in the village. It was during my first leave about a month ago. She went past the wall and fought bravely. She pushed back the demons and secured the gate. But…” I will my voice to stay steady, to stay the course for his sake. “She didn’t make it back.”
“What?” His poor attempt at a chuckle ends in a open mouth disbelief. “No. No!"
He shakes his head and walks away from me toward the stairs as if he doesn't believe me. As if she's waiting to greet him, but he stops halfway. He backs up into the medic area and shakes his head over and over. Refusing the words and the world where Rosa isn’t with him. He backs up again as if trying to rewind or remove the truth from his knowledge.
“Hasta." I haven't any words, nothing to interrupt his processing when anything I offer is useless.
"Not like this. Not after everything.” He fists his hair and his eyes dart to the stairs and back to me. "Year, after year, and to be this close."
Cole pushes his father’s bed to the medic area. “Move him to the back wall. Nix you don’t have to keep checking the IV. It’s secure."
Nix releases the clear tubes and thrusts her balled hands into her pant pockets, following behind.
“You!” Hasta’s roar quiets the activity in the space.
His dark, tormented eyes fix on the comatose general. And before I can move he’s rushing the bed with his warrior weapon halfway out of the ether. He’s going to kill General Targe.
