The Future Without Hope (3 page)

Chapter
4.
The Underground

I
GO TO THE UNDERGROUND. It’s deserted this early, but I know some of the
acolytes will be there, and a few priests. It’s a gamble, but it’s what I have.

I
could go to Omar. It would take very little to reach out to the High Priest,
and I know him—he might be loyal to the Order, but he’ll do whatever he can to
destabilize the Red Priestess. Even helping me steal back a sacrifice.

But
that would mean trusting him. And I’m not ready for that. Not yet.

So
I go to the vice clubs.

The
doors are locked. I bang once, and wait impatiently until two acolytes pry open
the door. “The clubs are closed until sunset,” the one in green robes lisps.

“I’m
not here for the vice clubs,” I say. “I need to see the High Priest of the
Haven.”

They
exchange a quick look, and then the Red shakes her head. She’s familiar—the
same acolyte who attended me when I fought. The sweet hospitality in her eyes
from the previous night is gone now, replaced with a cool reserve that borders
on hostility. She isn’t a woman impressed right now. She’s a fledgling
priestess protecting the Order. And that makes me smile, slow and amused.

“He
isn’t here.”

“Tell
him that Finn O’Malley needs to see him. He has two hours to meet me at the
house on the edge of the wall and return what he took from me. If I don’t have
her by then, I will start killing his priests—and I won’t stop until every
member of the Order in 1 is dead.” I pause, and stare at them. Their eyes are
wide, fear mixing with anger and shock.

They
don’t believe me. And because of that, they won’t deliver the message. I lean
in and murmur into the space between them. “If you think I wouldn’t do it—I
want you to know, I fought for Kelsey Buchman in the war. There is nothing I
wouldn’t do. And if she isn’t there, in two hours, yours will be the first
blood I spill.”

Chapter
5.
Familiar Places

THE
THING THAT KENDALL LIKES TO FORGET IS THAT I KNOW 1 JUST AS WELL AS HE DOES. I
grew up here, years before I left with Kelsey for the war.

It’s
changed—grown in ways that make me vaguely annoyed—but at the heart of it, the
haven is still a prison converted into a city, and it has weak defenses because
of those conversions. The Wall will hold—until it doesn’t—but there are holes
in the haven’s security, and I use them now, slipping out of the haven to check
the ZTNK.

There
are four infects between me and the RV, and I whistle, once. Best to deal with
them with my back to the Wall and some safety.

Nurrin
likes to think I’m reckless and don’t pay attention to danger. She’s wrong.
Most of the time, I just don’t give a fuck that it’s there. Today is slightly
different, and I shift, balancing my weight as the infects realize I’m here.

They
hesitate, one jerking forward before stopping with a screech. The other three
scent the air, and one snaps jagged, broken teeth. They aren’t attacking,
though. And that is disturbing in ways I don’t want to think about. I can’t
afford that to think about that right now. I slice my palm with the blade of my
long knife, and the first one screams, breaking into a sprint. The others
follow and I release a sigh, fear mixing with relief. The scent of blood is
still a catalyst. The world hasn’t changed that much.

I
snatch a throwing star from my belt and let it go, and the infect closest to me
shrieks furiously as it embeds in its eye The other three snarl as they push
past him and I grab the dead body, shoving the star deeper and putting the
putrid body between me and the other three, using it as a shield as I stay out
of reach of their teeth while putting them down. It’d be easy to reach for my
gun and take care of them that way. Easy and not what I want—it would draw
Walker attention.

The
second and third infect are scrambling at the dead weight of the first,
desperate to reach me, and I shove it to the left, unbalancing one while I stab
the other with an arrow. Fear zings through me, and I laugh as it sharpens,
makes me better. It makes a garbled noise, and falls, and I slam my boot down,
swallowing hard at the crunch of brain and bone. The other two hiss at me, and
I smirk, pushing the dead shield aside and grabbing the nearest infect.

She
snarls, and I drive an arrow up through the bottom of her jaw, into the soft
tissue of her brain. Her body goes limp and I feel the other one, too close as
broken fingers grab at me. I slam an elbow back, catching it high enough to
daze. Skin rips as it stumbles and I mutter a low curse as I whip around and
drive my knife into its skull.

The
body goes limp and drops.

Too
close. Too fucking close. Risking my life is one thing, but with Nurrin in
danger, I can’t do stupid shit like that. I swallow the fury and break into a
jog.

The
ZTNK is three miles away. I settle my weapons against me and start running.

I’m
tired and dirty when I climb the staircase to the house on the edge of the
wall. But the ZTNK is safe and untouched, for now, and I can barter my truck
for a bike. If I need to chase her, it will be easier with that versatility.

A
Black Priest is standing sitting on my bed, playing with Nurrin’s revolver. My
stomach twists at the reminder that she’s unarmed, wherever she is. She’s
alone, and I’m here, facing one of the maniacs who want her dead. I swallow the
sick feeling rising in me. I fucking hate feeling helpless.

Not
the time for that. I keep my face blank, and strip off my weapons belt,
ignoring the priest as I let my katana and crossbow and knives clatter onto the
small table. Then I strip out of my shirt, and the priest hisses slightly.

I
know why. The tattoos and scars covering my back are pretty fucking epic. I
give him a cool stare. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Nurrin
Sanders. The girl you came here with.” The priest’s eyes are watching me,
calculating.

I
don’t respond and he shrugs, standing. “You would know better than I what
happened to her. We don’t bother ourselves with haven girls unless they’ve
joined the Order. Did she?”

“She’s
under the High Priest’s protection,” I murmur and his gaze darts to me, too
quickly. “And I will find her. If you return her to me now, we’ll leave and
that will be the end of it.”

“The
Order doesn’t have your girl, O’Malley,” he says.

I
smile at him, savagely. “They told you what I said. What would happen if you
kept her from me. You wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.”

“The
threat is empty—you can’t start a wholesale slaughter in 1 without causing an
uproar, and President Stiles would never stand for it.”

I
laugh, my teeth bared in a parody of a smile. “You believe that, if you want.
Or ask your priest what Finn O’Malley will do, if pushed. But the Order will
begin dying tonight—I’ve waited long enough for her to be returned.”

“We
will kill you both if you do this,” the priest says, his voice sharp and angry.
He looks furious as he threatens me—but he doesn’t look like a threat.

I
look at him and grin. It’s been too long—too many years in 8, Walking and
existing, away from the war and any real threat. Too long since I’ve faced a
real challenge.

The
Order will definitely be that. “You are welcome to try, priest.”

Part
3.

The
Inevitability of Despair.

Disappointment
is inevitable.

Unknown-

Our
path is not easy—but our success is inevitable.

Sawyer
Russell-

Chapter
1.
The Numbness of Time

EVEN
THE FEAR AND GRIEF GIVE WAY EVENTUALLY TO EXHAUSTION. I slump against Collin as
the train rattles on down the tracks. I don’t know how long I sleep, or where
we are going or if they want me dead. I don’t know anything—only that Collin is
here, and turning. And Finn will find us.

The
train shudders, and I come awake, blinking in the gloom. Collin hasn’t moved
and I feel a moment of blinding panic, my hands shaking as I reach for him. I
hate that I hesitate, not quite brave enough, my heart twisting. Collin makes a
low noise, his eyes blinking open. “Where are we?” he groans, shifting to sit
up.

I
make a half-choked laugh, and he gives me a knowing look. “You weren’t ready to
kill me,” he says.

“Go
fuck yourself,” I say back, my voice lacking heat. He smirks. It’s enough for
now.

“We’ve
stopped,” I say softly.

He
nods, and I scoot away, leveraging myself up until I can stand. My legs
ache—too many days drugged up in 1 and motionless on the hard floor of the
train. The constant rattle has me shaky and I stumble for a step or two before
I get my balance.

The
door swings back, and I swallow a curse as the light floods in, my eyes
watering. Collin doesn’t bite it back, and I hear him moving. Without looking
away from the people silhouetted by the sun, I reach out a hand and pull Collin
to his feet. He’s panting, and his hand in mine is too hot but he stands
without wavering.

“Where
the fuck are we?” he snarls, and one of them laughs. It’s a mocking noise. Now
that my eyes are adjusting, I can see the robes. All four of them are wearing
robes—one in gray, and two in red. One black. My heart drops and I squeeze his
hand. Lori promised she wouldn’t hunt me down—she swore it, but it appears her
word means less than I thought. The black, though. They answered to Omar, and—

“Are
we at the Stronghold?” I ask, my voice raspier than I like. It sounds weak and
broken, and I’m not. I can’t fucking afford to be.

“No,
little First. The Stronghold is just a public face. This—this is nothing like
the Stronghold.”

That
terrifies me. Because I don’t know where we are, and because no one has ever
heard of the Order having a seat of power outside the Stronghold.

Finn
will never find us—and he won’t do it in time.

“Get
out,” one of the Reds says, her voice eager and lisping in her robes. I
shudder. I don’t want anything to do with her. She makes an annoyed noise in
the back of her throat, and the Black grimaces, making a motion with one hand.

Blue-robed
acolytes swarm forward, yanking at us until I land on the stony ground at the
Black’s feet. He frowns down at me. “Don’t fight us, First. It’s much easier to
just accept the Order’s will for you.”

“Fuck
you,” I spit, and he sighs.

“Take
her, Amy. But try not to damage her before the High Priestess arrives.”

My
blood runs cold and I jerk backwards as the acolytes fit rope cuffs over my
hands. I form a fist and swing upwards with both hands, catching the Blue
across the cheek. He makes a pained noise and falls away, grabbing for his
face.

The
Black makes an annoyed noise and grabs my cuffs, yanking me to him and slapping
me. Hard. For a moment, everything spins, and I can’t see straight. Distantly I
can hear Collin cursing, feel him lunging for the bastard who hit me, but it’s
very far away.

He
punches Collin carelessly, and my brother stumbles back a step before he
straightens and lunges again. Surprise flickers in the Black’s eyes, there and
gone before he kicks Collin, squarely in the bite. Collin’s scream is eerily
similar to the infects and he goes down like a stone. I jerk on my bonds and
the Black sighs, waiting a moment as Collin writhes on the ground.

“Get
them processed. And keep them apart—I don’t want the sacrifice tainted because
you let her visit her brother.”

The
Blue nods and grabs the lead to Collin’s rope cuffs—they cuffed him while he
was writhing from the kick—and pulls him away. “You can’t do this,” I breathe,
jerking against my cuffs. The rough rope bites into my skin, stinging and
real—all of this is so fucking real. It shouldn’t be. Why can’t this be a
dream? A horrible fucking dream that I can wake up from.

The
Black priest gives me a lazy look and shrugs. “This is the Order’s outpost,
First. We’re outside Haven authority, a hundred miles from the nearest Haven
and backed by the president. We can do literally any fucking thing we want.”

He
turns away, and the Red—Amy—yanks on my cuffs, rubbing my wrists raw as she
leads me into a new hell.

Chapter
2.
A Fresh New Hell

THE
OUTPOST IS ORGANIZED. Ridiculously so. I’m pulled into a small building that
looks like a stiff wind will knock it over, and coated with dust. She opens a
door, and pushes me into a small, neat stairwell. Four flights down, we emerge
in a pristine, white-walled hallway. It’s lined with doors, each with a heavy
lock, with a large open room at the end and a bathroom across from it. “Shower
first, and then we’ll assign your room.”

I
stare at her, not quite sure I believe her. She gives an impatient sigh. “Just
do it, First.”

“Where
did they take my brother? What will happen to him?”

“A
lot of that depends on you,” Amy snipes and my temper snaps.

I
drop the small stack of white clothing and cross my arms. “I’m not doing a
single fucking thing for you, until you tell me where the fuck my brother is,”
I snarl. “Your High Priestess wants me whole. Will you piss her off, or will
you answer a fucking question?”

She
stares at me, furiously, but I don’t move. I won’t until I know Collin isn’t
being put down in a back room somewhere.

“The
Grays will stabilize him, as much as they can. There isn’t much to be done, but
we’ll keep him alive and the infection at bay.”

“Why?”

She
frowns. “Because Day One is a year away, and we need you cooperative until
then.”

I
knew that’s why I’m here—of course I knew. What else would I be here for? My
throat goes dry and I try to keep from showing the panic I feel.

The
sacrifice in Las Vegas flashes before me, her long hair red with blood.

It
will never happen. It’s a year away, and Finn will find me long before that. I
swallow and reach down, picking up my white clothes.

Step
into the bathroom. Two cameras swivel in the wall, focusing on me. I look back
and Amy shrugs. “We had a girl suicide—this keeps those losses to a minimum.”

“What
the hell does it matter? You’ll kill us eventually.”

She
gives me a patient sort of look. “Because how you die is as important as you
actually dying. And when matters—if it didn’t, we would have killed the Firsts
years ago.”

I
don’t respond to that. Because there is nothing to say that will change her
mind, and arguing with a fanatic is pointless. I strip and step into the
shower, and try to ignore the cameras focused on me. The water is surprisingly
hot and I let out a soft noise of surprise.

“Five
minutes, First.”

I
swallow my response—cursing my captors might make me happy, but it won’t
actually achieve anything. Instead I focus on scrubbing myself clean, rubbing
shampoo into my scalp until it tingles and I’m halfway convinced it’s bleeding.
The priestess raps on the shower panel and I shiver as I twist the water off.

The
towel she hands me is rough and scratchy, but it smells like bleach and clean
laundry, and I dry myself quickly before slipping into the drawstring white
pants, a sports bra, and a white tank top. She glances at my wrists and makes a
quiet tsk in her throat. “Those need to be treated.”

I
glance down. I didn’t realize my wrists were that torn up, but they are, blood
beading impressively in a few spots. I shrug and pull my hands away from her.
“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Displeasure
flicks across her face, and then she turns, leading me down the hall to a
locked door. She pushes it open. “This is your room. If you need anything, push
the blue button—an acolyte will make sure you have whatever you want. Free time
is from nine to noon.”

I
blink, because this isn’t the prison I expected. It’s not lavish—but it’s nicer
than my apartment in Hellspawn was. The bed is wide and clean, and a small
bookshelf is lined with books. A desk pushed against one wall with a high
backed chair. There is a small comfortable-looking couch. I twist to stare at
Amy, my confusion evident.

The
Red priestess shrugs. “We don’t want you miserable, and there is more waiting
than there is anything else.”

I
lick my lips. “How many are here?”

Holly
smiles, a beatific smile of the religious zealots. That smile will haunt me,
more than the infects’ screams. “Enough that you will not be needed for years.”

Without
letting me respond, she pulls the door shut and leaves me there.

I
pace the tiny room, until sweat beads on my back, and sticks my tank top to my
skin. Nothing happens except my legs, weak from my captivity, get shaky and I
get tired. Finally, exhausted, with angry tears in my eyes, I drop on my bed
and curl on the disgustingly comfortable mattress.

For
a moment, I consider dragging the sheet and pillow to the floor but then I can
picture Finn, and the irritated amusement in his eyes, telling me not to be an
idiot as he got comfortable. So I snuggle into the pillow. “You better get your
ass here soon, O’Malley.”

As
I drift off, lulled by exhaustion and the warmth of the shower and finally
being comfortable, I cling to the words he’s repeated to me, his eyes patient,
and furious, and determined.

What’s the only thing that matters?

The
tightness eases.
I’ll keep you alive.
I’ll keep Collin alive.

I
just have to stay alive long enough for him to keep his promise.