Defiance Rising (8 page)

I have no idea where I am, or how far I’ve run; all I know is I can’t go any further.

It has been an hour since I heard the aliens.
 
Not long after I darted out of the alley, I heard a laser fight a couple blocks over and I can’t help wondering if Bastien made it out alive.
 

I should have gone back for him and fought beside him.
 
I try to reason that I shouldn’t care, that we’re only two strangers whose paths crossed at the wrong time, but it doesn’t feel right.
 
He is human and, by default, my kin.

Shuffling my feet along the threadbare carpet, I head toward a door at the end of the hall.
 
As I get closer, I realize the off-white door has a smattering of holes marring the surface.
 
I run my finger along the splintered wood.
 

“A shotgun did this.”
 
I push the door and stumble inside.
 
A black metal number 15 rattles and drops to the floor outside as I close the door behind me.
 
I feed the lock through the slot but it slips through the tarnished metal plate and rolls out the end.
 
I sigh and move on. It’s not like the Squaddies can’t get through if the lock did work.

A shattered doll greets me with vacant, staring eyes, half its porcelain face ground into the carpet.
 
I wince as my weight crunches what remains as I survey the room in front of me.
 

Black scorch marks and splattered blood intensifies the eerie feeling that hangs over the room.
 
I spy eight more bullet holes throughout the room, as if the shooter was aiming at a jumping jackrabbit instead of an alien.

Dust blankets everything, layering the room in dismal shades of gray.
 
A tan fabric couch fills the center of the room, pointed toward a wooden wall unit, its shelves stocked full of books.
 
I stumble forward despite my exhaustion and run my fingers along their cracked bindingsa forgotten library at my fingertips.
 

I dip quietly down a hallway, peeking into each of the rooms to make sure they are vacant.
 
I have to squint to see in the dim moonlight.
 
It wouldn’t be good to assume the coast is clear and later find a group of raiders nestled in the back bedroom.
 

Each of the rooms are exactly how I assume they were left...in a hurry.

A blue bedroom at the end of the hall still has books opened on the bed.
 
The quilt is crumpled and a shattered glass adorns the bedside table.
 
The window frame is half open, as if someone tried to climb out onto the stairs that cling to the side of the building.
 

A faded yellow room next door has stuffed animals strewn across the floor and a rainbow of pastel colored dresses slung about.
 
The final room sports evidence of laser fire and a large rust colored bloodstain in the corner.
 
The closet is stripped of all its contents.
 
It’s hard to tell if this was done by raiders or aliens, but the fact remains, there is nothing here to replace my torn shirt or shield me from the bitter cold.

I walk past the bathroom and give it a cursory glance.
 
Wide rings of grime circle the inside of the porcelain tub.
 
The ceiling tiles have fallen and crumbed over the toilet, revealing thin wooden slats above, warped by age and water leaks.
 

I move into the kitchen and step over a couple overturned chairs to dip low to look at a discolored family picture on the counter.
 
I swallow down the longing I feel for my own parents as I stare at the smiling faces of a couple with two children.
 

The metal handles on the cabinets have corroded and the doors hang on their hinges.
 
Faded purple lace curtains over the window have been yanked down and the window sports a jagged fringe of broken glass.

I head back toward the front room.
 
By all appearances, the space is raider free but I can’t tell for how long.
 
The home is stripped of anything useful so hopefully no one will disturb me tonight.

My muscles ache as I sink onto the faded couch.
 
A puff of dust rises in the air, I wave my hand to clear it.
 
I half expect something to crawl out of the cushions but nothing appears.
 
I beat the pillow with my hand then fluff it back up.
 
Pulling my legs up onto the couch, I sink down onto the pillow, surprised by how far my head disappears into it.

I sigh as each muscle starts to relax.
 
My fingers pass over the material of the couch, amazed by how deliciously comfortable it is.
 
Never before have I laid on anything so forgiving.
 
It curls to my side, cocooning me, giving support in ways a cave floor can’t.
 

During the fall, I sometimes sneak out and make a bed of pine needles and lay staring up at the night sky.
 
My best friend, Aminah, would sometimes join me and we would spend hours talking about boys.
 
Of course, most of that time was spent discussing her budding love for Toren, the only guy she’s ever cared for, and my complete lack of caring.
 

She always assumed that I would end up with Eamon.
 
Truth be told, I did too, but only because he’s my closest friend.
 
Zahra loves to fawn over his golden tousled hair and wide, expressive hazel eyes, but I don’t really see it.
 
Not in the way a normal girl should.
 
At least that’s what Aminah always tells me.
 

Tears sting my eyes as I sink down off the couch and curl up on the hard floor.
 
I tuck my hand beneath my head and reach behind me to remove one of my knives.
 
I usually sleep with a weapon at home.

Home.

When I close my eyes, I can almost make myself believe that I’m home, safe and loved.
 
I should never have left, especially on my birthday.
 
Eamon will be disappointed.
 
He hinted that he had something special he wanted to give me.
 
Knowing him, he’s whittled a new spear that’s the perfect height and thickness for me.
 

I miss all of my friends, even Zahra a tiny bit.
 
Why did I ever leave?

This place didn’t exactly turn out the way I’d hoped.
 
I came here thinking I could discover the truth behind the tremors and find a way to stop it.
 
I know now that’s impossible. The Diggers are already heading our way.
 
How long will it take for them to find our caves?

The City is dangerous, exactly as my mother warned me it would be, but she was wrong about one thing…I found compassion here too.

My mind races with unanswered questions.
 
Where is Bastien now?
 
Did he make it back to his subway car?
 
Is he waiting for me to return?
 
I have no idea if I will be able to find the entrance again, but I vow to try.
 
I have to know if he is ok.
 

My thoughts tumble into oblivion as sleep tugs me away.
 
I go willingly, ready for a respite from my fears.

Six

Even before I open my eyes, I can sense another presence in the room.
 
It is subtle, like a tickling of your nose, but it’s there.
 
I control my breathing, keeping it steady as I listen.

There is a faint creak on the floorboard to my right.
 
I curl my fingers ever so slightly around the hilt of my knife, muscles coiled and ready to spring.

I launch my knife through the air before I even open my eyes.
 
I’m up and firmly planted in a fighting stance by the time the shadow rolls back to its feet and rushes away.
 
I glare at the blade buried deep in the wood framing the kitchen doorwaya near miss, but still a miss.

The figure moves with stealth, shifting fluidly around the room.
 
I reach behind me and grab my gun, flicking off the safety as I kick the end table toward my assailant.
 
I leap forward in a dive and come up only four feet from the man, gun aimed at his heart.
 
Emerald green light blinds me as I stare into a laser cannon.
 

I dive to the side and roll behind a cabinet.
 
I stifle my heavy breathing, listening for footsteps in the apartment but hear none.
 
I tilt my head back toward the door and try to hear anyone creaking on the floor in the hall or mounting the steps.
 
All is silent.

“Who are you?”

The man shifts slightly.
 
Why isn’t he firing?
 
The cabinet offers little protection from a cannon’s blast.
 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he calls.

I chamber a round.
 
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one already tonight.
 
Didn’t work out so well for me last time.”

“I’m not like Commander Drakon.”
 
The response is soft, barely above a whisper, but filled with a surprising hint of bitterness.
 

“Mutiny among the ranks.
 
You really want to go with that story?” I scoff.
 
“Boy, you all must think humans are
really
stupid.”

“Not at all.”
 
He shifts closer to the window and I get a full view of his size.
 
Although he stands nearly a head taller than me, his body is long and lithe.
 
His lean form betrays the body of a skilled warrior, not a mindless brute like some of the soldiers back at the factory.
    

I need to be wary of this one.
 
He’s obviously not a stranger to hand-to-hand combat.
 
“Are you planning to turn me in?”

I lean back against the cabinet, pointing my gun at the ceiling as I listen to his breathing.
 
Although it is slightly elevated, he seems to be in control of his nerves, which isn’t a good sign for me.

“Those are my orders…”
 
The pause at the end of his words makes me peek out.
 
The emerald light is gone, his laser completely powered down.
 
Why didn’t I notice the missing hum sooner?

“Something tells me you have another agenda.”
 
My fingers tighten around my gun.
 
He might be foolish enough to power down his weapon, but I’m not about to give up my chance at the upper hand.

“I just want to talk.”

My laugh comes out more like a bitter snort than a true laugh.
 
I look around the edge of the cabinet and notice that he’s nearly even with me.
 
I’m quickly losing any form of protection this cabinet offers.
 

“Stay there!”
 
He pauses in mid-step, slowly letting his foot drop back to the floor.
 
“Don’t come any closer.”

To my complete surprise, he actually backs away.
 
He bends at the waist, slowly and deliberately, and rests his darkened cannon against the wall and steps away.
 
He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

A dozen questions race through my mind at once.
 
What is going on?
 
Why is he surrendering his weapon?
 
What could he possibly gain from speaking to me?
 

“I’m going to sit down now.
 
Please don’t shoot.”

My lips press into a tight line as he skirts along the wall, his back pressed tightly to the peeling wallpaper as he inches toward the couch.
 
I step out from behind the cabinet and lower my gun to follow him, my finger hovering just over the trigger in case I sense a trap.

As he turns to approach the couch, I see a flash of silver where his eyes should be.
 
I blink, shocked to find that his eyes aren’t a normal color at all, but appear more like the nickel my father gave me on my thirteenth birthday.

Even with the little experience that I have with the Caldonians, I know that his eyes are unique.
 
He lowers his hands to shoulder height as he ducks under the wobbly fan that dangles from the ceiling by a few frayed wires.
 
His gaze locks onto mine just before he turns his back on me and slowly sinks onto the couch.
 

For a moment, I just stand with my mouth gaped open.
 
What the heck is he doing?
 
One of the first things you learn in combat training is to never turn your back on your enemy.

Maybe that’s what he’s trying to prove.
 
That I have nothing to fear from him.
 

The floorboards creak loudly as I inch forward, careful to remain well outside a normal diving range.
 
The last thing I want to happen is for this guy to get his hands on me.
 

I slip past the edge of the couch and tuck myself into the kitchen doorway to my right.
 
With my free hand, I tug my knife free of the doorframe and slide it back into my waist.
 
From here, I can spin and race down the hall behind me to escape down the outdoor staircase if he decides to cause trouble.
 

I lower my arms, my left hand cupping my right as I keep the gun trained in his direction.
 
“Who are you?”

“My name is Kyan, Son of Caul.”
 
The sound of his voice is almost musical, like wind chimes in a warm summer’s breeze.
 
I find the tone both alarmingly pleasant and worrisome.
 
With a voice like that, anyone could be lulled into trusting him.
 

“Why did you follow me?”

“I didn’t, not in the way you think, at least.”

I cock my head to the side and tuck my lower lip behind my teeth.
 
I didn’t expect that answer.
 
“Then how did you find me?”

“I could feel you.”

“Feel me?
 
What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turns his head, zeroing in on me with his shiny gaze.
 
“I can always sense one of my own kind.”

I feel the blood drain from my face, pooling at my feet.
 
I’m sure I look as pale as spectral ghost in the dim light.
 
“What did you just say?”

He smiles kindly.
 
“I said that you are one of us, Illyria.”

I whip my gun up and aim directly at his right eye.
 
I know from this distance I won’t miss.
 
“How do you know my name?”

I know more than you think.
 
Although his lips remain stationary, I can hear his voice as clearly as if he’d spoken the words aloud.
 

My mouth drops open as I take a step back.
 
The gun shakes imperceptibly in my hands.
 
“How can I hear you?”

“Telepathy.
 
I can read your mind and you can read mine.”

I shake my head emphatically.
 
“No, I can’t.”

He presses his lips into a thin line.
 
It is in your blood, Illyria.
 
In the very DNA that makes you who you are.

“Stop it!” I cry, covering my ear with my free hand.
 
“Get out of my head!”

“As you wish.”
 

I’m not sure how, but I feel him withdraw from my mind.
 
The complete absence leaves me feeling woefully empty inside, as if his feathery touch was natural.
 
“So you can read my mind…that doesn’t prove I’m one of you.”

He cocks his head to the side.
 
“You’ve developed abilities, yes?”

Apprehension trickles down my spine.
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There is a sharp edge to Kyan’s laugh.
 
“Surely you know that it’s impossible for a mere human to toss a metal staircase with their mind.”

I blanch as small sparks of heat flicker in my fingertips.
 
“It was an accident.
 
I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh yes, you did.”
 
He leans forward, locking me in place with his direct gaze.
 
“Your mind allowed you to do exactly what your heart desired.
 
You were angry, you wanted to save your friend and you did.
 
Quite well I might add.”

“How do you know about Bastien?” I demand.
 

Although he doesn’t actually roll his eyes, his clipped words imply the action.
 
“I can read minds, Illyria.
 
It’s not that hard to shuffle through your thoughts to see you’re worried about him.”

I lower my gun slightly.
 
“Do you know if he’s ok?”

Kyan shakes his head.
 
“No.”

“Are you lying?”

He smirks, pointing to his head.
 
“Why don’t you take a peek and find out?”

The idea is absurd but oddly appealing at the same point.
 
What if I really can read his mind?
 
What would I find?

I shake off my curiosity and rise to my feet.
 
“Well this chat has been…insightful, but I think we’re done here.”

Kyan’s smile falters into a mask of distress.
 
He holds out his hands.
 
“You can’t go yet.
 
There is so much that I need to tell you.”

“Sorry but I’m not really in the talking mood tonight.”

I edge past the couch and back toward the door, never letting Kyan out of my sight.
 
I pause with my hand on the doorknob.
 
Kyan twists all the way around to face me.
 
“Please, don’t leave.
 
You don’t know how dangerous it is for you.”

“I can handle myself.”

His silver gaze seems to brighten with urgency.
 
“If you don’t learn how to control your abilities, they
will
destroy you.”

I hesitate a second longer.
 
I think over his words and then narrow my eyes.
 

“You’re trying to trick me into staying.
 
Why?
 
Do you have reinforcements coming?
 
How long are you supposed to delay me until they arrive?”

“No, it’s not like that,” he protests, starting to rise.
 

I shoot off a warning shot.
 
Fluff explodes from the arm of the couch.
 
Kyan throws up his hands in surrender.
 
He never once shifts to look at his laser cannon against the wall.
 
I calculate it would take him a split second to leap over the couch to retrieve it but at least five to power it up.
 
That would get me out the door and nearly to the staircase if I’m lucky, but he never makes a move.

“If you try to come after me, I will kill you.”

His lips press into a tight line, but he nods in understanding.
 
“You can’t outrun your destiny forever, Illyria.”