Embattlement: The Undergrounders Series Book Two (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (2 page)

Sven reaches for me to steady me. An electric tingle goes through me when I feel the weight and warmth of his burly hand on my waist. His amber eyes meet mine. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I mutter as I pull away. I can feel my cheeks burning and I’m thankful for the gloom inside the cave. I reach into my pack and fish out my flashlight. I crank it for a minute or two until a measly yellow beam appears. “Everyone make it in here?” I ask.

Sven tilts his head and gestures to his left. “
Un
fortunately.”

I glance over at Rummy and Won, slumped in a scowling heap in the middle of the cave.

“You told me not to let them out of my sight, otherwise I’d have been tempted to let them fry,” Sven says, folding his arms across his chest.

Trout and the ten other Council members squat around the stone walls, faces pale and glistening, chests heaving from our mad scramble to safety.

“Keep a close eye on Rummy,” I say to Sven. “He’s always got something up his sleeve. Especially when our guard’s down.”

I flinch when another bellow of thunder ricochets off the cave wall. If the storm keeps raging like this, it’ll be light outside before we get back on the trail, and we’ll have the added risk of sweeps to contend with. “I’ll take a look around, make sure there are no hidden surprises,” I say.

“I’ll go with you,” Trout says, getting to his feet.

We make our way to the back of the cave where it opens up just enough for us to walk around standing upright. I shine my flashlight around the crevices and catch a glimpse of some debris in the far corner.

“What is that?” Trout asks, peering over my shoulder.

I walk up to it and point my beam directly at it. “Pile of rabbit bones, I’m pretty sure.” I crank the flashlight a few turns to boost the beam. “This must be an animal den of some kind.”

Trout frowns and kicks at the pile, then hunkers down over the scattered bones. He reaches for a handful and sifts them through his fingers. “Ashes, and they’re not cold yet.” He looks up, his expression grim. “The only animal in here was a dead one getting cooked.”

I
blink
, my mind racing to make sense of Trout’s words. Someone had a fire going in here, ate a meal in here. Not long before we showed up. An icy tremor sweeps through me. Could it have been
Blade
?

Trout stands and looks around uneasily. “All the Undergrounders from our camp are accounted for, either here or back at base.” He fixes his gaze on me, his brow furrowed. “Who else would be holed up this close to the Council’s base?”

My brain fills with static. Blade can’t have put much distance between us yet. It has to be him. I run trembling fingers over my brow. “Blade’s still out there.”

Trout frowns. “That’s the Rogue who killed Mason, right?”

I clench my fists, an intoxicating desire for revenge snaking its way through me. A searing image of Mason ossifying before my eyes comes rushing back. He should be at my side to lead this mission, but he’s paid the ultimate price for our freedom. My biggest regret is that I wasted so much time resisting his help and guidance, mostly out of jealousy of his close friendship with Owen. I greatly misjudged him, yet in the end he was the one who rescued me from the Rogues, and helped me find my courage. He believed in me, the way he believed in Owen. Part of the reason I’m going back to the Craniopolis is to repay the debt I owe him and free the rest of the clones.

I sniff and give a curt nod. “Blade ambushed us on the trail to the Council’s base, but he got away.”

Trout grips my sleeve, an audacious glint in his eyes. “Not yet, he hasn’t.”

“What are you thinking?” I ask, throwing him a dubious look.

“Blade just left his calling card. He has a couple hours head start at best. If he’s on the trail south, we can hunt him down before he reaches the wilderness.”

I throw a hasty glance over my shoulder. “Keep your voice down! It’s not that simple. Blade is Rummy’s brother. If Rummy knows we’re going after him, he’s gonna bail on our deal. Or worse, he’ll sell us out to the Rogues when we get to their hideout.”

Trout scratches the back of his neck. “So what do we do? We can’t let Blade reach the Rogues before we do. He’ll tell them we’re holding Rummy. There’ll be a salivating mob waiting to butcher us.”

I brace myself against the barrel of my gun and weigh our options. Trout’s right—we can’t allow Blade to get to the Rogues before Rummy has a chance to convince them to join our mission. But, we can’t kill him and risk Rummy finding out. Our best option is to try and take him alive. The thought turns my stomach. If anyone deserves to die for his crimes, it’s Blade. I kick at the pile of bones and ashes and watch the dust scatter. That dirt bag’s come back to haunt me, again. And this time I can’t touch him.

“We’ll take him alive,” I say. “Once this storm eases up, you and I will go ahead of the others and scout the trail, see how far he’s got. My guess is that he’s hunkered down somewhere for now, just like us.”

Trout’s brows come together in a harsh “V.” “He’s gonna be a dangerous son of a gun to try and take alive.”

I shake my head dismissively, as much to convince myself as Trout. “He doesn’t have a weapon. He’s alone, and he doesn’t know the backcountry. He has only his hand-to-hand combat skills to rely on, but Sven could take him down in a heartbeat if it comes to that. If we find him, capturing him will be easy.”

At least it would be if I could be sure of my facts. Blade doesn’t have Big Ed’s gun anymore, but what if he pilfered a bunker somewhere? It’s true that he’s a hack at survival—who in their right mind starts a fire at the back of a cave? But he’s got the kind of cold-blooded grit that’s best not underestimated. As for whether he’s alone or not, I can only take him at his word,
I don’t do partners.
I’m banking on this tiger never changing his stripes.

“What are you two whispering about?” a stocky Undergrounder named Jett calls out.

I shoot Trout a quick warning look. “Don’t say anything to the others, yet. They’re already on edge. No sense making things worse.”

I turn and walk back to the group. “Don’t get too comfortable,” I say. “We’re only bunking here until this storm dies down. In the meantime, we need to work on our game plan once we reach the wilderness.”

Rummy perks up, and sniffs into his sleeve. “You’ll be wanting me in on that party.”

I glance across at him, bound back-to-back with Won in the center of the cave. “All right, let’s start with numbers,” I say. “How many Rogues are holed up in the hideout?”

Rummy grins sadistically, shakes his head in mock disbelief. “See, Butterface, that just ain’t the way it’s gonna work between you and me.
First
, you tell me what’s on the table for the Rogues, and then
maybe
I tell you what you want to know.”

As if sensing a threat, Tucker lifts his head off his paws. A low growl vibrates at the back of his throat. I stare back at Rummy stone-faced. I can’t waver in front of the Undergrounders.

“Cat got your tongue? You’re leading this mission, ain’t you? So let’s deal.” Rummy sniffs again and watches me with a raised eyebrow.

All eyes in the cave dart toward me. They’re waiting for me to prove myself. The rumors about me and Owen being snitches have unsettled them. I press my lips together. If we have any hope of surviving the next few days, I need to forge an effective alliance with the Rogues and gain the Undergrounders’ trust. And more than anything, I need them to believe they can defeat the Sweepers.

I walk over to Rummy and stare down at him. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at me.

“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t get to negotiate,” I say. “You’ve delivered nothing as of yet, and until you do, you’re only a yammering mouth to feed. I don’t need you for this mission. I have a Council of Undergrounders who have already infiltrated the Craniopolis once. I have access to a downed Hovermedes, and a military clone, Sven here, who can fly it. I even have a high-stakes Sweeper hostage, who could prove very useful in any negotiations.” I gesture at Won, who buries his head in his knees.

“And then,” I give an exaggerated sigh, “I’ve got you, spitting and foaming in my ear every time I give you a chance to make yourself useful.” I flash Rummy a scathing smile. “The only real value a scumbag like you has is to a guy like Doc Won here who recycles body parts for a living. And I might just want to reward him for his cooperation when this is over. So chew on that,
bonehead
.” I rap my knuckles on his skull and straighten up.

Rummy makes a strange sound at the back of his throat. His eyes flicker over the transfixed Undergrounders, and a deep flush spreads up from his neck.

“So let me ask you again,” I begin, “how many—?”

“Sixty!” he barks, scowling up at me. “Twenty or so Slicers if we can wrangle them in on the deal too. That’s how many heavies you got. Better make it count.”

“That won’t be nearly enough,” Trout says, an alarmed note in his voice.

Sven wipes a hand over his jaw. “And that’s assuming they all agree to come with us. Fat chance with rival gangs. We all know how the Council vote went down.”

Rummy lets out a snort. “There’s only one vote what counts with us, and that’s The Ghost’s. If he’s in, they’re all in.”

Sven frowns. “Who’s The Ghost?”

A sinister look crosses Rummy’s face. “He runs what’s left of the gangs.”

A scrawny, dark-complexioned girl called Panju gives a nervous laugh. “Kind of a stupid name, isn’t it?”

Rummy turns to her, eyes glittering, like a viper relishing a strike. He wets his lips in a slow, deliberate gesture. “Don’t see him coming for yer, do yer?”

Panju blinks nervously around.

“Ain’t so stupid now, is it?” Rummy jerks his chin at her. “Better watch out, Ragdoll. He might come fer you next!” A hollow, silent grin slits his inked face. Panju frowns and draws her knees to her chest.

“You’re right,” I say, locking eyes with her. “It’s exactly the kind of stupid name a coward hides behind.”

Rummy yawns and looks away. I kick Won’s foot to get his attention. “Speaking of cowards. You never did tell us why you stowed away on the Hovermedes.”

Won studies the toes of my boots. “My Cybernetics research have failed. A great shame.”

“What do you mean?”

He peers up at me from beneath his greasy, black hair. “The participants … they all die.”

My blood chills. All those eerie waxen faces in Sektor Sieben. Discarded shells of lives; people who once had hopes and dreams, friends and families. I wanted to save them, bring them out with us. But if what Won’s telling me is true, it’s too late for them. I flick my braid nervously over my shoulder. I can’t bear to imagine Owen’s fate if we don’t reach him in time.

“That still doesn’t explain why you left the Craniopolis,” Trout says, eying Won with suspicion.

“I have disgraced Lyong.” Won’s eyes dart around, settle on me, sweat glistening on his forehead. “You know what this means for me, yes?”

I shrug. “He
fired
you?”

Suddenly Won grabs my ankles, clings to me like a possessed monkey, eyes dilated behind his glasses. “Is
much
worse. I cannot go back.”

I shove him off my boots. “Pull yourself together. What are you talking about?”

Won’s lips part in a whimper. “He send me away.”

“Reeducation camp?” Rummy lets out a snort. “You wouldn’t last a night.”

Won crumples, shoulders heaving.

Trout and I exchange mystified glances. Send him away where? I’m beginning to think Won’s off his rocker. Genius scientist gone mad. All that gibberish he talks.
I save your brother
.

My thoughts are interrupted when several of the Council members get to their feet and reach for their packs.

“The storm’s passed,” Sven says, motioning to the mouth of the cave. “We should make tracks.”

I nod and rub my brow distractedly. “We need to decide who’s going to escort Rummy into the wilderness once we get there. We can’t all go marching in to the Rogues’ hideout or it’ll look like we’re out for war.”

“I’ll volunteer,” Sven says.

“You’ll have to go for sure. Everything depends on the Rogues believing our story.” I dart a glance over his bulging forearms. “And they will when they see
you
.”

“We’ll be needin’ Doc Won too,” Rummy says, a sly sheen to his eyes. “The Ghost’s gonna wanna see a Sweeper in person.”

“I hate to admit it, but Rummy’s right for once,” Trout says, reaching for his gun.

I busy myself tightening the straps on my pack while I think it through. If Sven takes Rummy and Won, and leaves me with only the Undergrounders on the edge of the wilderness, the Rogues will be holding all the trump cards. I need some collateral—a doggone good reason for Rummy to return.

And then it comes to me.

“
W
e’re moving out
,” I call to the Undergrounders. I whistle for Tucker as I strap on my pack. “We’ll wrap up the rest of the details on the way,” I say to Trout and Sven. “
In private
.” I ignore the steaming look Rummy throws me and head to the mouth of the cave.

Silence has settled back down like a mantle over the storm-ravaged forest, but now the first rays of sun are brushing the horizon, heightening the risk of a Sweeper extraction. We can’t afford to lose anybody. A mouse scuttles across the trail in front of me and disappears beneath a downed tree. I restrain Tucker and scan the surrounding foliage for any more ominous signs of life.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” I mutter to Trout when he joins me. “Blade might be a lot closer than we think.”

“Right now I’m more worried about Rummy,” Trout says. “I don’t trust him to follow through on his end of the bargain. We might just be handing Sven and Won over to the Rogues.”

“You’re right.” I throw a glance over my shoulder. “That’s why we have to find Blade.”

Trout furrows his brow. “What are you thinking?”

“If we capture Blade, we can hold him as collateral until Rummy comes back with Sven and Won. Blade’s the best leverage we could ask for to make sure Rummy doesn’t double-cross us. They may be thugs, but they’re still brothers, and they’re tight.”

“I hope you’re right,” Trout says, with a sigh. “I still wish more of the Council members would have come with us. Even if Rummy does manage to recruit the Rogues, and whatever Slicers they haven’t butchered, we’ll be spread thin. And those Schutz Clones will be ready for us this time. It’ll take five of us to match one of them.”

“Not if we join forces with the military clones before we launch the attack. Sven’s working on a plan to get us inside.” I throw him a sidelong glance. “I know you didn’t want to say anything in front of Won back at the base, but how exactly did the Council infiltrate the Craniopolis? Do you have someone on the inside?”

His face clouds over. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“About six months ago we picked up a deviation hiding in the woods, half a mile from our camp. He said he came out through an air vent.”

“How’s that even possible?” I ask, frowning. “The vent we tried to access had a four-foot metal grate riveted to it. It was bolted down so tight even Mas—” I hesitate at the quiver in my voice. “Even Mason couldn’t move it.”

“That was one of the original vents from when the Craniopolis was built,” Trout says. “They’re not in use anymore. The deviation said the active vents are all computerized.”

“How did a deviation get access to a computer?”

“He was part of a maintenance crew that cleans the Craniopolis. One night when there was only a junior scientist on duty in the air filtration lab, he overpowered her, dragged her over to the iris recognition biometric sensor and forced her to open up the vent.”

“So how come she didn’t send a squad of Schutz Clones after him? A deviation couldn’t have outrun them.”

“He took her with him.”

My brows shoot up. “The deviation
kidnapped
a Sweeper?”

A slow smile spreads across Trout’s face. “That’s the crazy part about it. The scientist was in on it. They staged the abduction for the security cameras.”

My jaw drops. I stare at Trout in disbelief. “Where is this scientist?”

Trout’s lips twitch. “She’s the dark-skinned girl you talked to back in the cave, Panju. A cloning expert—conscripted by the world government from the Central Institute of Science before the meltdown.”

I press my knuckles to my lips, trying to get my head around it.
A cloning expert.
Panju doesn’t look any older than I am. She must have been recruited by the world government from one of their gifted educational programs—unsuspecting of the atrocities she would eventually become a part of. But if she escaped from the Craniopolis, why on earth would she volunteer to go back? The hairs on the back of my neck tingle with a gnawing suspicion. “Are you sure we can trust her?” I ask.

Trout kicks at a rock in front of him. “She’s become a good friend. I trust her. I
can
tell you she’s not going back because of Owen. It’s to help her friends. Most of the scientists in the Craniopolis were either conscripted or lured there under false pretenses. Only a handful of elite scientists, including Won, knew about the experimental research on brain-dead participants in Sektor Sieben. Panju hacked into the research files and found out what was really going on.”

“So why didn’t the scientists revolt when they learned the truth?”

“After the meltdown, when the sovereign leader vanished, Lyong seized control. By then, he already had enough Schutz Clones in place to clamp down on any dissent.”

“And the deviation who escaped,” I ask, unable to keep myself from glancing at Trout’s one-knuckled finger. “Who … is he?”

Trout runs a hand through his hair. “He expired. A few days after we found him and Panju. He was our contact on the inside. We first picked up a radio transmission from him about a year ago. That’s when Owen recruited all of us and set up the Council.”

I suck in a quick breath of relief. I didn’t really think Trout was likely to be the fugitive deviation, but it seems nothing’s a given anymore, and no one’s who they appear to be.

“Panju said there were more dissenters on the inside initially,” Trout says. “But some of them have closed their minds to an outside world. It’s their way of coping with the horror of what they’re forced to participate in. They may not have what it takes to fight with us when the time comes.”

“They won’t have to,” I say. “Sven will rally the military clones, and with the Rogues on board too, we’ll have enough troops to crush the Sweepers.” I throw a glance over my shoulder. “Right now, we have a more immediate problem. We need to find Blade.”

Trout nods. “I’ll tell the others we’re going to scout a mile or two ahead.”

Tucker brushes up against me and then bounds off down the trail. I follow at a steady pace, scanning the brush on either side for broken boughs or crushed foliage, any telltale sign that someone forged a path through the undergrowth looking for shelter from the storm. Layers of forest litter crunch beneath my boots. In the distance, a thin river of morning fog weaves its way past the granite peaks. I keep a wary eye on the horizon, the threat of extraction never far from my thoughts. That time we spent sheltering from the storm took a big bite out of our safety net of darkness.

It sounds easy in theory, finding Blade, but the truth is I’m no bounty hunter and he’s a seasoned killer. He butchered his way out of the reeducation center, massacring the guards when the power failed during the meltdown.
Reds
he called the reeducation guards, his tone like ice when he told me how he did them in. I run a hand distractedly across my brow. Tucker bounds back over and looks up at me, somehow picking up on my angst. Doubt is bubbling up inside me again. What am I doing leading a bunch of teenagers to the Rogues’ hideout? What if I can’t persuade them to help us and they turn on us instead? I’m putting the Undergrounders’ lives at risk, all for the slim chance of saving my brother.

I kick at a rock on the trail. I didn’t choose this; it was put on me. Big Ed would tell me to rise to the challenge, to show the Undergrounders what I’m made of. But I’m not sure they’d want to know. I’m scared down to the soles of my worn-out boots just knowing Blade’s still out there. He promised to make it his mission to eliminate me, and he’ll die making good on that promise.

I wish Jakob were here. I’ve learned so much from him in the past six years—everything from how to shoot straight and skin a rabbit, to not being afraid to talk about Ma and how much I still miss her. Somehow the world’s less threatening when Jakob’s around. But we didn’t part on the best of terms, and things will never be the same between us now. The bunker spell’s been broken, and I can’t give him what he wants from me. Especially since Sven arrived. Tucker noses my hand and I rub his head distractedly. Big Ed told Sven to keep an eye on me, and he has been, although I suspect the “watching over” part has more to do with “watching” at times. A shiver runs down my back when I remember how it felt to have the clone’s muscular arm around my waist in the storm. With Jakob I feel safe, but there’s nothing safe about how I feel with Sven. He studies me, like he wants to know more than a clone should know about a human. Maybe that’s what makes him seem so dangerous. Uncharted and dangerous, but is it wrong?

“Ready?” Trout asks, coming up behind me. “I told the others we were going ahead.” He leans down and ruffles Tucker’s neck. “This old boy will find that scumbag for us, won’t you?”

I flash Trout a grin. “Count on it.”

“Go get him, Tuck!” I say, giving him a quick pat on the back. He bolts off through the pines, tongue dangling in anticipation. “Not so fast!” I yell. Trout and I break into a run and chase after him. He slows his pace until we’re only lagging a few feet behind him and then takes off again, barking excitedly like it’s a game. Suddenly he stops dead in his tracks, and then veers off to the left into the brush. I ready my weapon and signal to Trout to follow me. A few feet off the trail Tucker sniffs meticulously all around a depression in the brush beneath a granite boulder. I lay my hand on the flattened undergrowth. A cold tingle goes down my spine. Someone, or something, bedded down here not too long ago. Trout’s questioning eyes lock with mine.

“He was just here,” I say, breathlessly. “Might have heard us coming.”

I grab Tucker by the collar and let him sniff the flattened undergrowth one more time. “Good boy! Now, go find Blade!” I give him a reassuring pat on the back and he takes off again like a rocket through the thickets.

“Come on!” I yell to Trout, as I leap over a log and chase after Tucker. Adrenalin courses through me. Saplings bend like switches and slap back on me as I plough my way through the dense forest awash with the dim light of dawn. We should be out of reach of the Sweepers’ tubes this deep in the undergrowth, but their extraction capabilities are growing all the time. My sloppy braid comes undone and my hair falls in a tangle over my face. Branches scratch at my cheeks like ragged fingernails, but I ignore the pain and focus on not losing sight of Tucker. If Blade has a gun, he won’t hesitate to use it on him—if only out of spite. His jeering words when Tucker was extracted still haunt me.
Must be hard times in the Craniopolis if dog’s on the menu.
He always finds some way to get me riled up. I can’t let him get his hands on Tucker.

Trout yells at me to ease up, but I don’t dare risk falling behind the furry streak up ahead. Several times I yell at Tucker to hold up, but for some disturbing reason he ignores me. I duck to avoid a low-hanging limb and push on for another few minutes, frantically calling out for him every few feet, but he’s disappeared from sight. Heaving for breath, I pull up by a large fir tree.

I lean over on my thighs and wait for Trout to catch up with me. A moment later he claps a hand on my back and collapses on the ground beside me, gasping. “Where ... did he go?”

“I lost him.” I straighten up and wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. “He just kept going, wouldn’t mind me. I don’t understand it. He never does that.”

Trout rolls onto his back. “Now what?”

I shake my head, too winded to talk, too sick to my stomach to imagine
now
what
. I tense my shoulders, half-expecting to hear a shot echo through the forest at any minute. Knowing Blade, he’s got his hands on a weapon by now.

Trout throws a skittish look around. “We’re a good bit off the trail already. We need to be careful not to lose our way. Do you want to keep going after him?”

“Of course. Soon as I catch my breath.” I pull out my canteen and unscrew the lid with trembling fingers. I swish a mouthful of water around and peer into the distance. “This isn’t like Tucker. He must have spotted someone.” I can’t bring myself to say Blade’s name.

Trout chews on his bottom lip. He slides his gaze in my direction. “Then Blade might know we’re coming.”

“Or worse. He might have Tucker.”

Trout frowns. “I say we spread out and flank the area. Pinch him off.”

I get to my feet slowly. “All right, but don’t underestimate Blade,” I say, gripping Trout by the shoulder. Big Ed’s words echo in my ears:
Remember, you can hear in all directions
. “If he’s out there, you’re not gonna see him before you feel a knife in your neck. You have to
listen
for him. He could drop from a tree, come up from under the brush—out of anywhere—but I guarantee you won’t see him before he sees you.”

Trout takes a step back, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “We don’t have to split up if you don’t want to.”

“It’s a good idea to close him off. It’s our best shot at catching him. I’m just telling you to watch your back.”

Trout nods, his face drawn.

I pull my hair out of my face and stuff it down into the collar of my jacket. “I’ll go that way,” I say signaling east. “Cut back around after a half mile or so. If there’s no sign of either Blade or Tucker, we’ll head back toward the trail and see if Tucker’s made his way back to the others.”

I watch Trout move off, and then turn and arc my way through the brush in the opposite direction. The hush of the forest has become almost unbearable, as if every tree is holding its breath along with me, waiting for Blade to leap out and skewer me with a sharpened spear. I almost jump out of my skin when an eagle screams down from the ridge, sending a nearby squirrel into a panicked spin.

I take a steadying breath and creep forward, reluctant to move faster than I can process the dark undertones of the forest around me. A thick layer of pinecones crunches underfoot. Even my breathing seems to carry too far into the dawn air, but when I try to hold my breath, I end up gasping. I swing my gun around in a blind panic, certain I’ve given away my position to a loitering Blade. I wait for a few tense minutes before I relax my shoulders and will myself to keep advancing.

Big Ed taught me all the forest’s secrets—prints, tracks, scat and sounds. I can’t help wondering how he would go about catching Blade.