Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (13 page)

“Owen!” I cry out, my voice muted by the watery avalanche pounding me from every direction.

We freewheel through the icy spray. My limbs lose all sensation, numbed by a deadly concoction of fear and cold. I can’t tell if I’m in the raft or free falling in my life vest. My eardrums vibrate with a deafening sound, like clouds bursting apart around me. Or is it my lungs imploding?

My fingers burn, as though the flesh has long since been ripped from them and I’m clinging to the rope by bone alone. I brace for the violence of impact, praying the end will be brief and painless.

Seconds later, the boat shudders, as if absorbing some tremendous force. My spine compresses. My fingers, still melded to the rope, scream in raw protest. Without warning, the raft pops up like a foaming, half-drowned wildcat, water streaming from it in every direction.

I heave several shaky breaths. It takes a moment to register that we’re at the bottom of the falls, and I’m alive.

Blade lets out a string of expletives. Gasping, I look with trepidation over my shoulder to see who else survived. Lipsy stares at me, wide-eyed, like she’s seen the ghost of Neptune. By some miracle, Owen's still wedged in the bottom of the raft, draped like a sopping clump of seaweed over what’s left of our supplies. Mason clutches his paddle, pokerfaced at the prow of the ship.

A rough jolt startles me back into action. I clench my paddle, blinking to get my bearings. The raft shoots forward over the froth.

“Left back,” Big Ed yells. The exhilaration in his voice is all the confirmation I need that somehow we’ve survived the death plunge.

I paddle hard, half-sobbing with relief when we pop out of the whirlpool and back into the current. I keep up steady strokes, not daring to look downstream yet. After a few minutes, we float into a pool of deep, calm water. A startled beaver does a flip turn and disappears beneath the surface.

We look around, stunned into silence as we contemplate what just happened. I rest my paddle on the edge of the raft, but before I can take a breath, three or four rapid cracks cut across the water.

“Gunfire!” Big Ed turns and scans the cliff tops.

I look up in time to see the second raft toboggan down the rapids. I hold my breath until it leaps out from behind the veil of water and rights itself. It swirls for a few seconds in the stew at the bottom of the rapids before merging with the current. A foreboding feeling grips me as I watch it glide awkwardly toward us, sagging on one side like a punctured tire running on a rim.

The deflated raft slips into the pool and drifts toward us. Mason waves his flashlight over it.

A spasm of fear goes through me. There’s no mistaking the bullet holes in the rear compartment. Blade shoves me aside and reaches for the safety rope. He yanks the punctured raft toward him and peers inside. His face settles in a stiff grimace. “Empty. Even the supplies are gone.” He pushes it out of our way and snatches up his paddle.

“Whoa!” Mason reaches for Blade’s shoulder. “We’re not going to find them alive now, not if they’re in the river. And whose to say they didn’t ditch us before the rapids?”

“You d-d-don’t … know that,” Lipsy protests. I throw her a frustrated look. If she’s trying to keep Blade calm, it isn’t working.

Blade raises his paddle to take a swing at Mason, but he blocks it with ease and Blade stumbles backward into Owen. Big Ed dives to shield him and throws me a harrowed look. Blade’s about to blow a gasket. If I don’t defuse the situation, we could all end up in the river.

I whack my paddle across the center seat and gesture at the deflated raft. “Right now, we’re someone’s target practice. We don’t have time for search and rescue. We can look for bodies along the way, but we’re not going back. We keep going to the landing point.”

Mason rubs the back of his hand across his jaw. “Diesel’s gotta be behind this. No one else knows we’re out here.”

“Ain’t Diesel shootin’ at us.” Blade scowls. “This here’s Undergrounders. Hunting us down like they’re on safari.”

“Whoever it is, we need to get off the river as quickly as possible.” I grab my paddle and take my seat at the front of the raft. Blade and Mason exchange festering looks, before resuming their positions.

Within minutes, we’ve maneuvered out of the pool and back into the current. It’s slow going, but no one has the energy left to propel the raft any faster through the water. Instead, we scan the shadows for bodies, randomly poking and slapping at the weeds along the edge of the river with our paddles. A shiver runs across my shoulders. If Diesel’s out there, we’re sitting ducks in this raft.

My aching arms, limp as noodles, make ever-dwindling paddling motions. Now that my heartbeat has slowed, and the last dregs of adrenaline have leaked from my veins, the cold is creeping into my bones.

Other than an occasional command from Big Ed, no one speaks. We paddle like disembodied rafters, each in his own world. I grimly visualize the next stroke, barely able to raise my arms, let alone think a coherent thought.

“You all right?” Owen asks.

“Yeah, just cold,” I lie.

“Me too,” Mason interjects. “Time we picked up speed.”

I glance over at him, sensing a note of resignation in his voice. “There are no bodies, are there?”

He tightens his jaw. “Not yet, there aren’t.”

Flushed smudges of dawn are already permeating the darkness by the time we reach the North Fork landing point. We ground the raft in a gravel outwash and reach for our weapons. I’m soaked and cold, but inwardly glowing from the thrill of licking the rapids. At least I feel alive, a gift the bunkers never gave me. But, it’s a bitter thrill without Jakob by my side.

Mason slings his gun over his shoulder. “I’ll do a quick scout around.”

He clambers out and disappears into the forest. I clutch the barrel of my gun and pan the perimeter of trees from the refuge of our raft. Apart from the usual owl tweets and cricket clicks nothing moves or makes a sound.

After a few tense minutes, Mason reappears and gives the all clear. “I’ll get Owen. The rest of you can unload.”

We wade in silence through the sludge at the river’s edge to the gravely shore, and then hand off the backpacks and supplies in a chain up the bank. My heart pounds in my chest. We’re almost at the Hovermedes. One step closer to finding Jakob. I’ve tried not to think too much about him in the past few days. I don't know if he's dead or alive, and it’s too painful to imagine a future without him.

I watch as Mason hoists Owen over his shoulder. He ploughs easily through the mud toward the shore on legs of steel. I toss my backpack down and take a quick steadying breath. We’re about to cross from what’s left of my world into Mason’s. I pull my soggy, knotted braid over my shoulder and finger it hesitantly. I have no choice from here on out but to trust my life to a clone. Even Jakob's life is in Mason’s hands now, and that disturbs me. But, Mason’s the only one who can take me to the Sweepers. I wish I believed in him as much as Owen does.

“Let’s move.” Mason strides by me without breaking pace.

Big Ed falls in behind him. I gesture with my rifle to Blade and Lipsy to get going, and then cast one last glance around before I hurry after them.

A few feet from the shore, a familiar dense foliage wraps its tentacles around us, lending a greenish hue to the peachy dawn. I duck to avoid a low-hanging limb, crunching over a thick bed of fallen twigs on anemic legs still in recovery mode from our brush with a watery grave. Out front, Mason slashes his way through everything in his path like an excavator. His strength is beyond natural, but I still marvel that he survived the fall from the pole bridge.

We barely cover a quarter mile before Mason pulls up abruptly. He slides Owen down from his shoulders and props him up at the base of a tree. “This is the spot.”

I look around, frowning. A sea of ferns and brush stretches in every direction.

A hint of suspicion crosses Blade’s face. “Where’s the ship at? I don’t see nothin’.”

Mason wades forward into the undergrowth, drops down several feet into a depression, and reaches for a giant armful of loose brush. He tosses it aside and then digs around some more. “Help me move this stuff.”

Blade and Lipsy hustle into the ferns and begin tearing at the brush and hurling it over their shoulders.

I plow through the undergrowth after them, as eager as they are to see a Hovermedes up close.

Mason works methodically, never quite taking his eyes off Blade. I’m sure Blade won’t try anything yet, not until he knows the Hovermedes is operational, but Mason’s not taking any chances.

“There she is.” Mason steps back and looks around at us, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. I throw another armful of twigs aside and gape at the sleek, bus-length gunmetal body, peeking through the brush like a half-surfaced submarine.

For a moment, I’m paralyzed with fear, and then a volt of anger surges through me. Jakob, Sam, so many others, some whose faces are already slipping from my memory, all extracted. It’s time to put this diabolical machine to good use and right some wrongs. Like finding Jakob and bringing him home. After that, the Rogues can do with it what they will.

Mason straightens up and looks around. “Let’s see if she still flies.”

Blade runs his bare hands down the seamless side of the Hovermedes. “Ain’t no door on this thing.”

Mason bars his arms and stares at him. “First, we need to go over the ground rules.”

Blade slams his fist on the side of the Hovermedes. “We ain’t got time for no seatbelt demo, you dumb hog. Rummy’s in trouble. Now open the bleedin’ door!”

Mason widens his stance. “I got all the time in the world.”

Lipsy shuffles from one foot to the other, watching from beneath drawn brows.

Blade spits into the dirt. “Okay, soldier boy, I’m listenin’.”

Mason gives a guarded smile. “Good, ‘cause once we’re on board, I’m in charge. No exceptions. No one touches the control panel, or attempts to operate the ship, other than myself.”

Blade shrugs. “You wanna drive that badly, have at it.”

Mason gives an abrupt nod and turns back to the Hovermedes. He traces his fingers lightly down the side, and then presses firmly on a spot halfway down the cigar-shaped barrel of the ship. I hold my breath waiting for a door to magically appear. Instead, the entire roof of the Hovermedes splits open with a pneumatic hum, and the sides glide apart like an armadillo snapped in half.

“Yikes!” I take a step backward as the ship powers up and a strip of lights flicker on.

Mason chuckles. “There is a retractable side door, but it’s easier to open it up all the way when we’re loading a group.” He turns to the others. “Let’s roll. To the rear. Stay behind me.”

Before he can take a step, Blade shoves past him, and darts to the back of the ship. He grabs the metal sides of the opening, pulls himself up, and disappears inside.

“Hey!” I yell, panic ballooning up inside me. “What’s he doing?” All my hopes of rescuing Jakob lie with this ship. If Blade takes control of it, I might never see Jakob again.

Mason bolts past me to the rear of the ship just as Blade staggers back out. He wipes his mouth across his sleeve, and glares at Mason, his piercing glinting like a third eye. “Think that’s funny, road dog?”

The look on Mason’s face tells me he’s as perplexed as I am.

“You playin’ me for a sucker?” Blade waves his fist at Mason. “You knew that cat gone and croaked in there, didn’t you?”

Mason turns to me, his voice low and urgent. “I’ll check it out. Keep your gun on him. Might be a ruse.”

I clutch my rifle tighter and watch out of the corner of my eye as Mason climbs into the back of the Hovermedes.

“I don’t like this,” Big Ed says. “Someone beat us here.” He adjusts the strap of his gun and peers around the dense undergrowth.

“Hey!” Mason yells. “Grab the feet!”

I race over to the Hovermedes and reach for the boots protruding through the entry. Men’s, about Owen's size. I glance up. A black knit cap is pulled down over the face. I shudder and adjust my sweaty grip.

Mason grunts and lifts the arms. “Got him?”

I give a tense nod and pull on the legs. We ease the body out and lay it down in the brush a few feet from the Hovermedes.

“Poor bugger don’t smell yet,” Big Ed says, coming up behind me. “Can’t be dead more than a few hours.”

Mason hunkers down and yanks the wool cap off. I gasp and take a step back, a searing pain steaming through my chest.
Prat
.

“You know that sucker?” Blade leers at me.

My chest tightens like it’s filling with sand. “He’s … he was our bunker chief.” I stare down at Prat’s pale face, the scant ginger-hued stubble on his chin a sad reminder that he was barely a man. Remorse for all the ugly thoughts I ever had about him washes over me. Prat and I never saw eye to eye, but at the end of the day, he was just another kid trying to do what he could to make a life for us. I’m learning it’s not so easy to lead.

Mason smashes the knit cap in his fist, and hurls it into the trees.

I blink rapidly, trying to process my thoughts.
If Prat's dead, what about Da and the others?
My stomach churns. Even if all Da does is drink, I need him just the same. He’s the only link I have left to Ma, the only one who can tell me stories about her, at least when he’s sober.

Faces gesture in slow motion around me. Everyone’s talking at once, arguing over what went down. Blade shoves Big Ed in the chest. He stumbles backward, arms flailing for support. Mason grabs him, and then reaches for Blade and shoves him against the side of the Hovermedes.

“Shut up and listen,” Mason yells in his face. “Whoever killed Prat could show up here any minute. That’s if the Sweepers don’t beat them to it. We need to load up and leave right now.”

I glance up at the salmon-tinged sky. “How long will it take to get us airborne?” I ask.

“Not long, if she starts right up. I’ll give it my best shot.” Mason flexes an uncertain smile, and then climbs on board.

“You’re on lookout,” I say to Big Ed. “Blade and Lipsy, clear a spot in the brush so we can cover the body.”