Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) (7 page)

Ana, Liam, and Katrina were given the use of a double room: four large beds, as well as a bathroom—with a working tub—that was surprisingly spacious. They were told to rest before dinner and prepare to take their places as guests of honor.

The last thing in the world Ana felt like was being a “guest of honor.” She could hardly tolerate the idea of mingling with strangers while her brother was out in The Games fighting for his life—
if
he were still alive. The longer they stayed in the underground train station, the less hope she had that she’d ever see him again.

Still—running water. It had been a while, and she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Ana and Liam bathed first, then Katrina gave them an uncharacteristic wink on her way into the bathroom to take her turn as the two of them lay together, freshly scrubbed, atop a bed.

Ana reached up and touched the black leather patch over Liam’s left eye.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I always wanted to be an old-time pirate.” Liam smiled and laughed.

“You’re so amazing.” Ana kissed him. “No matter what you’re forced to go through, you always find a way to keep from falling apart. You lost your eye, Liam, and you’re acting like it’s not a big deal.”

“So I lost an eye. I’ve still got you, and look around—we have a warm room, hot water, food, and kind people around us. We’re OK, Ana.”

“But for how long? We can’t stay here. We haven’t found Adam.”

“I know,” Liam ran his hands through Ana’s damp hair. “But we’ll worry about that later. Right now, we’ve got . . . well, right now.”

Ana could hardly believe this was the same Liam who routinely lost his temper at slights so small they were barely there. The man was hardly a pacifist, but ever since Hydrangea, he had calmed down significantly.

Liam was still a tough-as-nails soldier outside in the world, but when they were alone, in these quiet moments when the two were fortunate enough to find a soft spot to sleep, he was so calm. Almost tender.

“What happened to you, Liam Harrow?” Ana asked playfully.

“What do you mean?” He sat halfway up and leaned on his elbows.

“You used to be so . . . wild. And now, you’re almost, I dunno, domesticated.”

“Love does that to a man.” he smiled, more romantic than usual. Liam had been sweet in recent months, but he hadn’t exactly been declaring his love with poems or bundles of freshly picked daisies. He met her eyes and cleared his throat. “I don’t know, Ana. I’ve never been one to live in the moment. It’s hard to enjoy things when you’re always worried about what’s gonna happen next. That’s been my life so far: plotting, planning, trying to stay a step ahead of the enemy. But after that night when I thought I’d lost you for good, then you woke up cured in the morning . . . I don’t know. Now I just feel like I’m supposed to enjoy whatever moments we have. Life is cruel enough without me dwelling on the horrors that
might
happen. I’ll fight when I have to, and”—he smiled—“love when I can.”

Ana crawled on top of his body and kissed Liam again. She felt him harden against her, but with Katrina in the bathroom behind a paper-thin door, there was barely any privacy, let alone time for a quickie without getting caught. That wasn’t unusual. There was rarely time for sex since their flight from Hydrangea, which made these moments being so close, in such an intimate setting, all the more excruciating. She wanted him inside her—now.

As if on cue, Katrina pulled the drain plug in the bathroom. She’d be coming out soon. Ana closed her eyes and sighed.

“Why do you have to be such a sexy pirate?”

“Sorry, I just can’t help my sexiness.”

She pictured Liam’s smile, then opened her eyes, saw it was real, and kissed him again, allowing her hand to travel down to his pants with caresses.

“Stop it,” he whispered.

The bathroom door opened, and Ana pulled herself off of Liam, laughing.

“Sorry,” Katrina said, emerging fully dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt over black pants. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Ana said, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain herself. Perhaps there was some part of her that felt guilty to have found love with Liam while Katrina had no one.

Not that Katrina ever acted like she wanted a man—or anyone really. She seemed tough—not needing either love or friendship. Ana had tried to get close, but Katrina always held a distance between them. Her arm’s length wasn’t exactly cold, but you couldn’t deny it was there, either. The warrior clearly enjoyed their company, and she
had
risked her life to spring them from Hydrangea, turning on Sutherland—a maniac unable to handle betrayal—to help them, two people she’d barely known.

Obviously Katrina was a good person but she was also clearly damaged.

Ana had seen proof of that a few months back. One morning she’d woken up early. The three were staying in a cabin they’d been lucky to find and secure well enough that it had provided safe harbor for three weeks. Liam was asleep, but Katrina wasn’t in the house. Concerned, Ana grabbed a blaster and went outside to look for her. She spotted Katrina bathing in the lake . . . and noticed her striated chest, vicious with long, intersecting scars. Who could have done this to her?

Ana had wanted to ask Katrina about the scars ever since but couldn’t find a way to broach the topic without feeling like she was invading her privacy.

Clearly Katrina was thinking along similar lines. She sat on the bed, pulled open her backpack, and began sorting her supplies. Without looking up, she said, “I’ll see if they’ll give me another room tonight. You two deserve some time alone.”

Ana was going to tell Katrina that she didn’t have to do that, it wasn’t necessary. Liam spoke before she could, though.

“Thank you,” he said.

Ana met his eyes and smiled.

Katrina nodded, then turned to Ana. “So, what do you want to do? Are you going to stay like Egan asked?”

“No,” she said firmly. “We’re leaving in the morning. I can’t stay here while Adam is out there helpless.”

Katrina drew a blade from her backpack and strapped its sheath to a spot on her back along her waistline.

That’s just like Katrina, packing her own knife for dinner.

Ana said, “But I don’t think Egan will tell us where Adam is if I
don’t
stay.”

Katrina smiled, “Give me two minutes with him. I’ll get him to talk.”

Liam sat up, saying, “No, we don’t need to hurt anyone.”

“You’re no fun.” Katrina grinned.

Ana tried to ignore their flirty banter. It was Katrina’s way and Liam’s. And she had no reason for jealousy. Katrina had never shown the least interest in Liam, nor had Liam’s eyes been all over her. But Ana couldn’t (and wouldn’t) have blamed him if he had noticed her, and that’s what made her feel like her stomach was filled with lead. Katrina was gorgeous, exotic, with more than enough years on Ana to make her much better under the blankets.

She knew, rationally, that Liam had done nothing to cause this jealousy. But love isn’t rational.

Katrina didn’t seem to notice her reaction, though, and simply shrugged. “Maybe you
should
stay here.”

“What?” Ana asked, not sure she had heard right.

“Oswald’s here. That means he can get to work. We need to find a cure, right? You should stay where you’re safe. You’re too important to keep putting yourself at risk. I bet Egan will let Liam and me go if you agree to stay. We can bring Adam back here and we’ll
all
be safe.”

“I don’t
want
to be safe,” Ana said. “We’re a team, the three of us. I can’t ask you guys to go save Adam while I hide here. He’s my brother, my responsibility. It’s enough that you’re helping at all. I can’t ask that you go in my place.”

Liam met Ana’s eyes. “Katrina has a point. We’ve no idea what we’ll run into. I’d rather you stay here safe too.”

“No!” Ana said. “Besides, now you’re half blind. You
need
me.”

“Even half blind, I’m still a better shot.” Liam laughed.

Katrina laughed too, and Ana tried not to glare at her. She told herself that Katrina was playing along or laughing at Ana’s lack of shooting prowess. She hated comparing herself to the battle-hardened woman. It felt so irrational, and she had prided herself on being in control of her emotions—just like her father.

Fuck that.

“I’m going,” Ana said.

A knock at the door cut into their argument.

“Come in,” Katrina said.

Calla opened the door, joined by the older, olive-skinned boy with bright golden eyes, whom they now knew as Elijah. Though he was tall, he didn’t look much older than Calla. His belt hung low from his blaster’s weight. Ana was certain that the gun was their contingency plan in case the girl turned.

“Dinner’s ready,” Calla said.

The table was long and perfectly centered in a room that was even more beautiful than the one Ana had seen when first introduced to The Station.

Somehow, the old and no-longer-abandoned train depot—with its musty-scented mineshaft corridors, chunks of wall either rotten or missing, and chipped tiles scattered along the wall leading into the common area—still looked more like a home than any Ana had seen since the one she’d grown up in. She still pictured her childhood home each day, often with her mother wearing the old ice-blue apron with the silver script that read
Molly Knows Best.

The ceiling was ivory and hung low with a coil of colored lights strung from one corner to the other, on both diagonals and crisscrossed through the middle. The walls were yellow, in various shades of gold, daffodil, and canary. The many yellows made Ana think of the fancy fabric stores on the bottom floor of the stores on Park, back in City 6.

Calla sat across from Ana, with Egan by the girl’s side. A brown-haired dwarf introduced to her as Father Truth was sitting beside Egan and mumbled only a word or two after she sat, seemingly unable to move his eyes away from any one of the three newcomers. It felt as if he were analyzing them for some reason, and that sent a chill up Ana’s spine.

It didn’t help that the rest of the room was pretty empty. While there were two dozen chairs, most were unoccupied, as Egan said he’d wanted the dinner to be just for those closest to him and his special guests, so they could speak freely.

Liam sat to Ana’s right, squeezing her hand under the table in support. She loved that he sensed how hard it was for her to sit near a girl she was likely consigning to death by her departure.

Oswald sat beside Katrina to Ana’s left, and the two of them were chatting about everything that had happened since his flight from Hydrangea. The scientist said that Sutherland went into a rage after they left, accusing everyone—including Oswald—of conspiring to help the three of them flee. He’d even held trials and wound up finding someone guilty and hanging him.

“Oh God,” Ana said.

“Yes, I felt awful but wasn’t about to step forward and admit my guilt. At that point, I started making plans to escape myself.”

“Thank God.” Father Truth raised his wine glass to toast their success.

Ana raised hers—though she wasn’t feeling very celebratory at all—as did most of the others around the table,

“So, have you made a decision yet, Ana?”

Ana glared across the table at Egan.

How dare he put me on the spot in front of Calla like this?

“I already gave you my decision.” Ana wondered how much Calla knew. “I have to find my brother.”

Egan lifted a hunk of bread to his mouth and took a bite. “It would be much easier to find him if you knew where he was. I can tell your friends exactly where to find him and can even lend you another body—along with some useful gear, food, water, blades, guns and ammo—if you like.”

Calla punched the table, causing her cup to jump and splash.

“Don’t force her, Father! If she wants to go, let her. I’ll be fine.”

Liam’s hand squeezed Ana’s harder.

Egan turned to his daughter, “How do you know what we’re talking about?”

“I’m not stupid. I hear things. I know you’re trying to get her to stay so Dr. Oswald can find a cure. But you have to stop trying to force people to do stuff! Haven’t you learned anything?”

She rose from the table and started to walk away.

“Calla!” Egan called after her.

She turned back, looked at Ana, and said, “Your brother’s in The Outback. That’s where The Games are being played,” then left the room without looking back again.

Egan turned to an open-jawed Elijah. Egan waved his hands, as if to remind him of his duty to shadow the child.

The boy swallowed and bolted from the table wide eyed, calling after Calla.

Egan turned to Ana, a sour look wrinkling his face. He let out a long sigh.

“I’m not going to lie: I’ve thought about making you stay. I’ve considered having my people take the three of you at gunpoint and forcing you to remain until my daughter is cured. I’m thinking about it now, truth be told.”

Ana turned to see Katrina’s clenched jaw. She wondered how close the woman was to reaching for her blade. She’d seen Katrina throw a knife more than 20 feet and lodge it in a bandit’s neck. Egan might have men—and kids—with guns, but Katrina was a force of nature who could probably kill every man, woman, and child in The Station. Then leave without a scratch on her.

“But I won’t stop you,” Egan kept speaking. “My daughter would hate me if I did, and I don’t want to do anything to cause more stress. As I said, keeping her spirits up and her life as normal as possible is important to maintaining the serum’s effectiveness. You can go in the morning. I’ll give you supplies and even let you take a skidder. Just, please, promise you’ll return.”

Ana blinked back her tears and said, “I promise we’ll return. Thank you.”

Egan grunted and went back to his dinner.

The remainder of the meal unfolded mostly in silence. Ana could barely eat, though something inside her was surely eating her.

Sutherland stared at the throne room trying to decide what bothered him so much about it.

It was spacious, well placed on the tenth level of Hydrangea, and consumed what had once been two dining halls. The walls were red and black, lined with torches and sconces, with several strands of gold garland sprouting up and over the room’s many columns. A plush crimson carpet striped the floor’s length through the center of the room leading to the throne. Ornately carved wooden benches lined the walls on either side, where the citizens of Hydrangea could gather for their most important meetings.

The throne, gold and black as well, rested at the top of five long steps, a high perch from where Sutherland could survey the room and those who were eying the proverbial, if not literal, crown.

Gallus stood beside him, eager for a reaction.

For praise, like a child.

Sighing, Sutherland finally turned to his second in command. “I don’t know. It seems a bit too . . . formal.”

The young man’s face nearly melted.

“But, sir, I thought you
wanted
formal. I thought you were tired of the informal nature of the dining hall meetings. That is what you said, right?”

Sutherland sighed, “Yes, yes, I know what I
said
, but you were supposed to know what I
meant
.”

Gallus looked like he wanted to say something but knew better than to cross Sutherland. Gallus, just 19 when Sutherland handpicked him as Hydrangea’s second—to replace the traitor Katrina—was young, strong, and well respected among the citizens. But he was still a damned kid, which made him half idiot, and Sutherland should’ve known better than to trust a brat still missing the tit with details as important as a throne room.

Sutherland approached the throne and ran his hands along the chair’s ornate golden frame and dark-blue cushioned seat and back.

“Is this real gold?”

“Of course, sir.”

Sutherland traced his fingers along the carved laurels. “It is quite nice.”

“Have a seat, sir. I trust that you’ll find it to your liking.”

Sutherland sat.

It
did
feel good.

Though not good enough to give Gallus his praise.

“Not bad.”

He looked out around the room, imagining it filled with his citizens learning to respect—and fear—him again.

Yes, they were still The Patriots of The New Revolution, part of a community spread across The Barrens in nine separate camps. But Sutherland was no longer the leader. Not since he’d allowed Katrina to escape with Ana and Liam. In a vote by The Council of Patriots, which he’d once led, Sutherland had been replaced at Sagebrush by that foolish old bastard Jeffries. Jeffries wasn’t fit to lead a raid, let alone lead The Patriots. He was stuck in the past, and the way Sutherland saw it, too afraid to lead The Patriots in the bold direction they needed to go if they were ever going to live as truly free men and women.

But The Council had made its decision, and there was no recourse for Sutherland. Jeffries had the audacity to say, “You’re lucky to stay as Hydrangea’s leader. Remember that, and get your camp in order.”

Ever since Katrina’s betrayal, too many people had trafficked in whispers, wondering at Sutherland’s effectiveness. They didn’t think he heard them, but he hadn’t risen to the top without having ears everywhere.

When Oswald followed her flight a few months later, the chatter grew louder. Some idiots even considered holding an emergency “election” of all things, to select another leader for the camp.

Of course no one was bold enough to approach him and suggest such a thing. They were still fearful of crossing Sutherland—
for now.
He had to do something before the rabble began to clamor more vocally for his removal.

He had to make a statement. This throne room was a start. Soon enough they’d have other reasons to talk.

The throne room
was
ostentatious, but it wasn’t as if Sutherland was a stranger to extravagance. As he sat on his throne, he liked it—and his place above the people even more. In the worlds before The Old Nation, throne rooms were necessary, providing a majestic setting for a ruler to display his power. A king could hold official court and grant audiences to the rabble, award high honors and offices to the worthy. Sutherland would use his to prove his station.

“This will do quite nicely, Gallus.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Gallus stood as if waiting for additional praise, rather than leaving like Sutherland wanted.

“Yes?” Sutherland said.

“Well, sir, if you’re ready, Captain Horrance has news for you.”

“Oh?” Sutherland clapped. “Then bring him to me.”

Gallus left quickly to fetch Horrance. Moments later, the two men returned to the throne.

Horrance, a large ogre of a man with a smooshed face even a mother couldn’t love, spoke first. He appeared to be a big, dim man, but he wasn’t nearly as stupid as most people believed—though nowhere near as smart as Gallus—which was why Sutherland liked having Horrance in charge of his soldiers, The Black Guard.

“Greetings, Sir.” He bowed his head slightly.

“Yes, Horrance?”

“I was out in The Barrens, over near Quadrant 11, and saw something.”

Sutherland let out a long sigh, “Please, Horrance, can you be more specific, or do you delight in prolonging the agony of each moment I spend in your presence?”

“I saw Katrina and the escapees.”

“Ana and the boy?” Sutherland leaned forward in his throne.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you didn’t attempt to capture them?”

Horrance said, “They were with bandits, sir.”

“Bandits! Hah, I should’ve expected that whore Katrina to scurry back with vermin. And? Do you have a location?”

Horrance smiled like he was about to deliver some good news. If he had had a tail, Sutherland was sure it would’ve been wagging. “I do, sir. I followed them to what appears to be an old train station.”

“A train station? Are you sure it’s not another installation like this? Not another of the nine camps?” Sutherland thought that maybe this idiot was stupid enough not to realize that
their
base was connected to a train station.

“It’s not one of ours. And I don’t know if it’s just an old station or maybe a base, sir.”

“How many bandits?”

“I can’t say for certain until I can go back. I was on my own and didn’t want to risk capture before you had word.”

“Good job, Horrance.”

Horrance smiled his big, stupid grin and showed Sutherland his messed-up teeth. Sutherland tried not to let the man’s ugliness sour his appetite for dinner.

“Gallus? Please take Horrance to the whores. Let him have his pick—save for mine.”

“Yes, sir,” Gallus said.

“Thank you, sir.” Horrance smile grew bigger and uglier.

Sutherland tried not to imagine the beast on top of any woman, fouling them with what he imagined would be a misshapen cock. “You’re welcome. Come back later and we’ll plot our next course of action against the traitors.”

As Gallus escorted Horrance out, Sutherland sat in his throne room, alone with his excitement.

It wouldn’t be long before he’d capture the traitors. Once he had Ana back in his care, he would hold all the cards and ensure his return to head of The Patriots.

He smiled, deciding to avail himself of his whores.