Stung (22 page)

“Of course I packed a flashlight,” Tommy says. “But there’s no
way we’re getting out of here that easy. Not with
you
along, Fiona Tarsis. The militia will scan the ground for any type of energy current, except fire. And I didn’t pack a candle.” Tommy turns to Arrin. “So, Fec, where are we going?”

Arrin shrugs, peering at him through stringy bangs. “You tell me. And I’m assuming I’ll be paid? I’m not helping you for nothing.”

“Will a can of peaches be payment enough?” Bowen asks.

“Double it and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done,” Bowen says. “Well, then, where to?” Arrin asks.

I look at Bowen, hope burning in my chest. “Can we still run?” I whisper. “To Wyoming?”

He shakes his head. “Too weak. I’ll never make it. And you’ll never make it on your own.”

Eyes pleading, I look at Tommy. He smirks and shakes his head. “I ain’t running with you. And besides, even if you did run, even if Bowen was all right, there’s no way you’d get far. Not with the manpower they’ve got on your tail.”

“You can live in the tunnels,” Arrin says, a sly gleam in her eyes.

“No!” Bowen and I say at the same time.

“Suit yourself. But where to? I can get you to the outskirts of the city or inside the wall, or if you want—”

“What?” Bowen says, interrupting her. “You can get us inside the wall?”

She spins around and grins at him, nodding. The match flickers out, and Tommy lights another.

“I don’t believe it,” Bowen says, his words a challenge.

Arrin shrugs. “Believe it or not. Doesn’t change the fact that I know a way in. I know a lot more than just that. Like why the raiders always keep a beast in their camp. And why the lab wants
her
so bad.” She nods her greasy head at me.

“Why?” Bowen asks, his eyes darting between Arrin and me.

“Because she’s the first child to wake from a coma. And when she woke, she wasn’t crazy anymore,” Arrin whispers, as if it’s the biggest secret in the world.

Chills dance down my spine.

“How do you know?” Tommy asks.

Arrin doesn’t answer. Bowen does. “The Fec’s clothes. They’re standard lab uniforms. Patient uniforms. They used to be Fiona’s. And I’ve never heard of a Ten who didn’t turn. Except for Fiona. And the bruises in the creases of her elbows. They’re from needles. She’s from the lab.”

Arrin nods. Tommy stares at me, eyes shining with amazement.

“Since you’ve got everything figured out, how did she get on the wrong side of the wall?” Arrin challenges.

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Have you?”

Arrin shakes her head. “But I know why they want her so bad. They need her back so they can figure out how to cure the others. But …”

“What?” I take a step toward Arrin. “But what?”

“But …” She looks right into my eyes. “They’re going to have to kill you to get the answers.”

The match goes out and I’m blind. A cool, damp hand finds mine and folds around it. “I won’t let the lab kill you.” Bowen’s breath is warm against my ear. His lips press against my temple. “Arris, take us inside the wall.”

His words stun me. “Wait. Inside the wall? You
are
taking me to the lab?”

His fingers tighten on mine. “Never, Fiona. I’ll
never
take you to the lab. But what if I’m right about your sister being alive and living inside the wall? Do you think she’d hide us?”

A wave of relief and hope shudder through me. My sister. Lis. “Yes.”

“Then that’s settled. Take us inside the wall, Arris,” Bowen says, his voice sounding stronger every time he talks.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Tommy asks.

“Do we have a choice?” Bowen answers.

Another hand finds my empty hand. A small, hot hand, with jagged nails and grit-covered skin. “Tommy,” Arrin whispers. “Hold Bowen’s hand so we’re all connected.”

Tommy splashes through the water. “Got it,” he says, his deep voice echoing against cement. “You want me to light another match, Fec?”

“Nope. Darkness is my friend.”

“Thank you, Arrin,” I whisper, squeezing her scrawny hand.

“For what?” she says, her voice suspicious.

“Helping me.”

She laughs, and another chill races down my spine.

The water changes from stagnant to rancid and clings to my ankles like mud instead of splashing around them. Bowen’s breathing has grown labored, and his palm has turned icy cold in mine. His hand begins to drag against mine, making me pull Arrin to a slower pace.

“Let’s take a break,” I say after an hour or so.

Arrin’s hold tightens on my hand. “No. We’re almost there.”

I dig my feet into sludge and refuse to take another step. Bowen bumps into my back and drops my hand, clutching at my shoulder to keep from falling.

“Arrin, we need a break,” I say, tearing my hand from her grasp.

“Whatever. But just shut up,” she growls. “The tunnels are never safe.”

Through the darkness and sludge, I guide Bowen to the damp tunnel wall. He leans against it, throwing one arm around me for support.

“Tommy, is there anything else we can give Bowen to help him?” I ask. I switch my pack around so it is in front of me but still looped to my shoulders and rummage around inside it for food and water. I open a water bottle and feel for Bowen’s hand. He takes the bottle and drinks.

“We
could
do another IV,” Tommy says, “but I worry about secondary infections. It’s so dirty down here, he might die of blood poisoning if we puncture his skin. I have a vitamin tablet and an energy tablet. They might help.”

“No!” Arrin blurts. “We’re almost there!”

“How much longer,” Bowen asks. His voice sounds as cold and weak as the sun in winter.

“Ten minutes tops,” Arrin says, her voice nearly a purr. “I know you’ll make it. Just … let’s go.”

I take the water bottle from Bowen and put it into the pack, then secure it on my back again. “I’m not leaving until Bowen eats a vitamin and an energy tablet,” I say.

Arrin groans. Tommy sloshes to Bowen’s side. “Open up, man. Now chew.”

I hear the tablets crunch in Bowen’s mouth. The sound eases a bit of the tension wound tight in my belly. “Now we can go,” I say. But I don’t want to go on. Something doesn’t feel right.

We all grasp hands again and continue through the slop. Holding Bowen’s hand is like holding an ice cube. Arrin’s is like fire. And every step we take, dread coils more tightly in my belly.

We haven’t been walking five minutes when the stuff squelching around my feet becomes thin liquid again, the stench less powerful.

“See? I told you we were almost there! Almost inside the wall,” Arrin says, not keeping her giddy voice down.

“When you said you knew a way into the wall through the tunnels, you also meant you know a way up to the top, right?” Tommy asks, voice suspicious. Maybe he can feel the same thing I’m feeling—unease.

“Duh. Of course there’s a way to the top. You just have to know where to go,” Arrin answers.

We take three more steps through the pitch-blackness, when I jerk to a stop. Bowen walks into me again, and Arrin’s hand slips out of mine. My heart is pounding, and despite the fact that the tunnels are already midnight black, I close my eyes, straining to hear.

“What now?” Tommy grumbles.

“I heard something ahead,” I whisper. I reach forward for Arrin, but she’s not within arm’s reach. “Arrin?” She doesn’t reply. We are stuck in darkness, trapped in silence. I hear a rustle from behind, and then a match flickers. Golden light hovers around Tommy’s hand. And reflects against a dozen pairs of eyes.

One pair of eyes isn’t as tall as the others. The short pair steps forward—Arrin, her mouth a hard line—and points at me. “That’s Fiona Tarsis. The Ten.”

“Oh no,” Bowen whispers. His hand begins trembling in mine.

Tommy curses, and I know without looking that he’s got his rifle on his shoulder, aiming at the eyes.

“Put your weapon down, militia man.” The voice comes from the shadows. “We’ve got you surrounded. If you hand over the Ten, we’ll let you go. If you try to fight, we’ll kill you before we take her. So we win no matter what. You just have to decide how badly you want to lose.”

I look around and gasp. There are people behind us, in front of us, on either side of us, even hanging in the pipes overhead. And most of them hold something that shines just like their eyes—weapons. Tommy grunts and tosses his gun to the side of the tunnel, out of the water.

“You too, Ten. Disarm. We are armed and we are many,” the voice says.

I take the small gun from my waistband and slip the rifle off the backpack, and toss them to the side of the tunnel by Tommy’s gun.

“You want to come with us now, Ten, or do you want your escort shot first?” The
click-clack
of a rifle being cocked echoes through the tunnel.

Without a second thought, I drop Bowen’s hand and take a step forward.

“No! Fo, wait,” Bowen pleads, taking a step toward me.

“Bowen, they’ll kill you if I don’t go with them.”

“That’s right. She’s got to come now,” the man in the shadows says.

“Who are you?” Bowen asks, his voice so strong he sounds healed.

“No one important. Just let the girl come to me,” Shadow Man says.

“Can I have thirty seconds to say good-bye?” Bowen asks.

There’s a long silence. “I’m feeling sympathetic today. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Tommy’s match goes out, but another light flares overhead. The man hanging in the pipes hands a lantern to us.

Bowen opens his arms and I step into them. He rests his forehead on mine and a new knot of worry tugs tight inside of me. He’s no longer cold—his forehead is flaming hot against mine and parchment dry. “I’m pretty sure these guys are the men who run the black market, which means you’re going to the pits,” he whispers, eyes staring into mine. “I’ll come for you as soon as I can. I promise. Just … don’t give up hope. And fight to stay alive if you have to. Fight!”

A rough hand grabs my wrist and yanks me away. I reach for Bowen and catch his outstretched hand, our fingers clasping before I’m pulled away from him. Bowen’s face tightens.

“Get the Ten out of here, boys, and escort Bowen and his buddy to make sure they don’t follow us,” Shadow Man orders. Bowen and Tommy start sloshing through the muck, a group of armed men at their backs. When I can no longer hear their retreat, Arrin reappears.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asks, gnawing on the side of her thumb. She bites a piece of skin off and nibbles it with her front teeth.

“Are you so hungry you’re eating yourself, Fec?” answers Shadow Man.

Arrin spits and glares into the shadows. “Where’s my
reward
?
You promised me sixteen ounces if I brought her in.” Her stomach grumbles.

The man laughs, and Arrin pulls a knife from her shorts, growling, poised to kill. The man laughs harder.

“You’ll get paid, don’t worry. But do you really think you deserve honey? For selling Fecs on the black market?” He glances at the tattoo on her hand. “And what happened to that Three you promised earlier this week?”

“That was Fiona’s fault. She got him killed in the camp,” Arrin growls.

Dumbfounded, I stare at Arrin. “You were going to sell your own brother to these people?” I ask.

Arrin rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a brother. And where’s my honey? Pay me now so I can get out of here and trade the honey for some real food.”

“The only payment you’ll be getting is the same fate as the Ten,” Shadow Man says. I swear I can hear a smile in his voice, though his face is still hidden by darkness.

Arrin gasps. “But who will get you Fecs for the pits? And what if the governor hears about this? He’s trying to get her back inside the wall.”

“Who do you think asked me to put the Ten in the pits in the first place?” Shadow Man says with a laugh. “He said use any means possible to find her. I wonder if he knew I’d use the Fec that supplies me—and him—with other Fecs. You’re going to the pit.”

Arrin’s knife trembles and falls to the ground at her feet. “The
p-p-pit?” she stutters. “But I get Fecs for the governor to bleed! If he finds out you put me in the pits, he’ll kill you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Shadow Man says with enthusiasm. The reason the governor hasn’t yet shut us down is that he is too concerned with collecting the dead bodies we provide. He won’t even know you’re there until it’s too late. Wonder what he’ll think when he opens the body bag with you in it. Best bit of irony I’ve heard since the day I learned the elite children of the country were all going to turn to beasts.” The man chuckles.

Arrin screams and tries to run, but the man in the pipes swings down like an ape and lands on her. Two more men step into the circle of light and take Tommy’s and my rifles. Others move out of the dark. They are clean, neat men, with brushed hair, wearing clean, faded clothing. They look like the type of men who used to take their kids to the park on warm afternoons or wash their cars on Saturday mornings. Until you see the guns in their hands, and their shifting eyes.

Two men stop beside me. One pulls my arms forward and fits cuffs to them. “Are you familiar with electromagnetic cuffs?” he asks. He has brown hair, parted on the side and combed into place.

I nod.

“Good. I’d hate to kill you prematurely.”

The cuffs hum and pull together. Arrin, pinned to the floor, is cuffed, too. As I’m shoved past her, she glares up at me, brown sludge caking her face.

“This is all your fault.” She hisses. “If they put me in the pit with you, I’ll tear your throat out with my bare hands.”

I stare straight ahead and walk.

Overhead, a circle of dim light appears, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the blinding shock.

“You want me to uncuff them, or are we going to hoist them up?” asks the man jabbing his gun against my spine, the man who has been guiding me through the tunnels, with his hair combed neatly to the side.

“A Level Ten? And
that
Fec? No way are we going to uncuff either of them. Hoist for sure. But bag their heads first,” another man answers—Shadow Man. I’ve memorized his voice.