Embattlement: The Undergrounders Series Book Two (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (3 page)

Of course he would have studied him. Like he studies everything and everyone. So now, when he needs to, he’d be able to predict Blade’s next move before he even makes it. I rack my brains, trying to remember something useful about Blade, something that makes him weak.

The leaves rustle to my left. A loud bark. Seven o’clock. The hair on the back of my neck tingles. I spin around and peer through the greenish hue of the forest. More barking—but not the kind that makes any sense. Tucker would be growling if he’d cornered Blade—
snarling
if Blade had a hold of him. I glance around to make sure Blade’s not creeping up behind me, and then slide my gun off my shoulder and take off jogging in the direction of the barking. My heart thuds in my chest.
Please, let Tucker be all right
. I push my way through a clump of pines and out into a small clearing. My jaw drops when I see who has Tucker in a chokehold.

I
t’s a child
.

Even with the light of the first rays of dawn spilling over the forest, it takes me a minute or two to convince myself I’m not hallucinating. Squatting in a pile of mulched leaves like some kind of elusive forest creature is a little girl, I think. Filthy, even by Undergrounder standards. I stare at the small figure, swaddled in muddy layers of unidentifiable clothing. Her spindly arms are velcroed around Tucker’s neck, a feisty gleam in her eyes that dares me to claim him. Tucker barks once, then twice, seeking my approval of this new arrangement. I signal to him to stay, still trying to process what I’m seeing. He wags his tail contentedly, then barks again, inviting me to join his circle of newfound love.

Trout comes running up behind me. “What on earth?”

“It’s a little girl,” I say, more to convince myself than to tell him anything he can’t see for himself.

He turns to me, frowning. “Yeah, but where’d she come from?”

“I don’t know.” I raise my fingers to my mouth to whistle for Tucker, but Trout grabs my arm and lowers it. “Wait! She’s clinging to that dog like her life depends on it. If you whistle him over, she might start screaming.”

I twist my neck and peer through the trees behind me. Trout’s right. Blade might well be in earshot. The worst thing we can do right now is trigger an outburst that will draw unwanted attention to our whereabouts.

I turn back around and take a closer look. I haven’t seen a child this young since before the meltdown. The young and the old fared worst in the aftermath. I’m guessing she might be five or six, but I’m useless at this kind of stuff. And she’s so tiny.

“So what do I do?” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth to Trout. “I can’t let her keep Tucker.”

Trout throws me an exasperated look. “Point is, what are we gonna do with
her
?”

“I dunno, find her parents. She’s too young to have survived out here by herself. She must be with someone—Undergrounders, I suppose.”

“There aren’t any bunkers around here, only the Council’s base.”

“Maybe they were passing through.”

Trout throws me a skeptical look. “And left their kid behind?”

I stare at the disheveled girl for a moment, and then take a tentative step in her direction. She tenses, huddling in on herself. Tucker pricks his ears, watching our every move. “It’s okay,” I call out, offering a friendly wave. “We’re Undergrounders like you. We won’t hurt you.” I take a couple more steps, treading as lightly as I can.

She tightens her grip on Tucker and scuttles backward. He licks her chin, and then turns back to me. I motion to him to stay put.

“Are you hungry?” Trout calls out. He pulls out a piece of jerky and holds it up.

The young girl’s eyes widen.

Trout approaches her slowly and offers it to her. Cautiously, she uncoils one arm from around Tucker’s neck, her eyes fixed on the prize. Fast as a bird of prey, she thrusts out her hand and snatches the jerky from Trout’s open palm. My heart melts when she tears it in half and gives a piece to Tucker first. She keeps a wary eye on Trout as she polishes off her share, but she seems to have forgotten that I’m here. Ever so slowly, I approach.

Her face is smeared with dirt streaked through with tears. A flicker of panic goes through me. If she is lost, and we can’t find her parents, what are we going to do with her? She wipes a tiny fist across her lips, then holds out her hand to Trout for more jerky, never loosening her one-armed grip on Tucker.

“Are you lost?” I ask, kneeling down on a bed of pine needles a few feet in front of her.

Her bottom lip trembles.

I cringe inwardly.
Please don’t cry!
“I’m Derry,” I say, stretching a clown-sized smile across my face. “What’s your name?”

She clings to Tucker’s fur, peering suspiciously over my shoulder into the brush.

I turn and make a dismissive gesture behind me. “Don’t worry. It’s just me and my friend, Trout.”

The girl eyes Trout curiously for a moment. Her small lips part. “That’s a fish’s name.”

I laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Izzy.”

“That’s a pretty name.” I rack my brains trying to remember what people say to little kids. Seems a lifetime ago since I’ve been around any. I was a kid myself when the meltdown happened. I shoot Trout an imploring look.

“Say something,” I hiss in his ear.

He scratches the back of his neck, as perplexed as I am. Apparently he has nothing more up his sleeve either, now that he’s out of jerky.

I roll my eyes at him and turn my attention back to my grubby rival laying claim to Tucker. I need to figure out how to get my dog back, but of course I can’t just take him and leave her. I blink back unexpected tears. I swore I’d never leave anyone behind again, and I meant it.

I shuffle a little closer on my knees and smile gently at her. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

She throws me a jaded look and nestles her head in the crook of Tucker’s neck.

I chew on my lip. Not a safe topic? Or did she clam up because I’m a stranger? Maybe the dog’s a better option to open with.

“Looks like you found yourself a real pal there,” I say, reaching out to pet Tucker.

Izzy lets out a strangled wail and locks both arms around his neck again.

I retreat a few feet and turn to Trout, one eyebrow hiked. “Your turn.”

He clears his throat and throws Izzy a conspiratorial look. “His name’s Tucker.”

She juts out her tiny chin. “
I
found him.”

I groan inwardly. I’m resigning myself to having to pry her needle-thin arms from around Tucker’s neck. Already the guilt’s gnawing at me. I know how comforting a place it is to be snuggled up to an unconditional-love fur ball.

Of all people to have Tucker in a chokehold, why does it have to be an abandoned kid? This could prove more challenging than negotiating with Rummy, but Tucker’s not on the table, not even for her. I rub my jaw distractedly until inspiration strikes. “Hey, Izzy, I have an idea. Let’s take Tucker to meet your parents.”

She blinks, as if considering my proposition.

“How about it?” I prod. “They’d love to meet your new pal.”

She drops her gaze, trails her fingers through the half-mulched leaves and pats them into a small mound. “They’re dead.”

I rock back on my heels, momentarily stunned by her wooden delivery of the shocking words. I stare at the mulch sculpture at her feet that looks disturbingly like a grave. Maybe her way of trying to process what happened. A thousand questions swirl in my brain. Did her parents die in a bunker raid? Was it Rogues, or did the Sweepers extract them? The question that nags at me most is the same one I see on Trout’s bewildered face.
What are we going to do with her?
We can’t take her with us. Not to war. But we can’t leave her alone out here either, and especially not with Blade on the prowl.

I inhale slowly in and out. I don’t want her to clam up again, but I need to make sure of the facts. We can’t go kidnapping some Undergrounder’s kid with an overactive imagination. I slowly stretch out my hand to Tucker, and this time Izzy sits quietly, watching with unabashed curiosity as Tucker licks my fingers affectionately. An involuntary smile curls up from the corners of her mouth. I take a quick breath and seize the moment. “What happened to your mom and dad?”

A look of grim determination clouds her face. She twists a piece of Tucker’s fur between her fingers. “There’s bad guys.”

My heart begins to pound with a kindred fear. “I know. Did you see them?”

She bobs her head, once, twice for confirmation.

“What did they look like?”

She pulls her skinny shoulders up to her chin and drops them.

“So you
didn’t
see them then?”

“They had scary faces.” She blinks, a solemn look on her face. “Is Trout’s mama dead?”

Behind me, I hear Trout inhale a sharp breath, then clear his throat. I fight the urge to turn around and look at him. He hasn’t shared anything about his family with me, and I haven’t asked. It’s an unspoken rule among the Undergrounders not to pry. Not everyone wants to talk about what happened to their loved ones when the earth’s core overheated and obliterated most of the world’s population.

I haven’t thought about the day of the meltdown in a long time. Owen and I had our poles in the water early, shivering in the cool, morning air. I caught a clunker of a Steelhead early on and Owen took my picture.

We never got to skin that fish. All that smoke and fire coming up from the base of the Sawtooth mountains, hot springs exploding, the thick choking ash, the dark lockdown that began that day and never really ended.

Izzy cocks her head to one side and studies me like a wren with beady eyes. “Is
your
Mama dead?”

I get to my feet and hold out my hand to her. If she can face the truth, maybe it’s time we all did. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I think so.”

A rustling sound in the brush beyond the clearing startles us. Izzy’s alert, brown eyes widen. She grabs onto my hand and clamps down on it. I swing her up onto my back and aim my rifle at the quivering undergrowth. Out of the corner of my eye I see Trout silently draw his gun.

Izzy’s tiny heart drums against my shoulder. My jaw quivers, the crushing weight of responsibility for the child on my back hitting me front and center. I blow a wisp of hair out of my face and stare fixedly ahead. If it was Rogues who killed Izzy’s parents, they might have come back. And Blade might have joined them.

I
blow a hot
, silent breath through my lips, my senses electrified. We’re almost certain to be outnumbered, and Izzy will hamper my ability to be effective in any attack. I signal to Trout and we beat a hasty retreat to the nearest clump of trees and take cover.

Seconds later, a scurrying sound grabs my attention. Too light for Rogues, too heavy for squirrels. I chamber a round in my gun and adjust my stance. Tucker growls, and I frantically motion to him to stay. He knows better than to give away our location like that, but he’s been acting strangely today. The foliage swishes again, and my breath sticks in my throat as I take aim. The leaves part, and a family of raccoons breaks through, watchful and twitching with curiosity as they trip forward. They lumber by in single file, beady, black eyes examining us, before they disappear into a thicket on the other side of the clearing.

Trout falls to one side, laughing hysterically. Tucker barks and runs over to him, hoping it’s time to play.

Izzy slides down from my back and looks up at me from beneath a thatch of cocoa-colored curls, the first hint of a smile on her face. “Them’s coons!”

“Yeah!” I say, with exaggerated exuberance. “Them’s coons all right!” I grin down at her grubby face, relieved she wasn’t forced to confront the macabre faces of Rogues for a second time. I don’t know when her parents died, but she can’t have been out here by herself for very long. I wonder how she escaped the raid. Probably crawled into the kind of tiny hiding place only a kid can find, and huddled there undetected until the Rogues took off. That conversation will have to wait until we’re in a safer place and she’s ready to open up. I pick up my pack with a growing sense of conviction. There’ll be plenty of time to uncover what happened along the way. It’s not like I can leave her behind now that I’ve felt the desperation in those tiny arms around my neck, trusting me to keep her safe. “How old are you, Izzy?”

She hides her face behind six fingers, then jams her thumb in her mouth.

I grin down at her. “That’s old enough to be in my camp.”

Izzy pulls her thumb back out. “You’re pretty.”

“So are you!” I smile and brush a curl behind her ear the way Ma used to do with me. “I think we’re gonna be good friends. And I could use a friend. How about you?”

She gives a cautious nod.

I reach for my pack and give a low whistle for Tucker. Trout sits up as I stride past, clutching Izzy’s hand. He stares at me, eyes wide as beacons. “What are you doing?”

“Got a better idea, Einstein?”

“Yeah! Look for survivors from her camp. She can’t come with us.”

“Who says there are any survivors?”

I pretend to act cocky to cover my unease. Bringing Izzy along could definitely jeopardize the entire mission, but if we waste time looking for the rest of her camp, we have less chance of finding Owen alive. It’s a weakness of mine, wanting to save everyone. Which is why I’ll never forgive myself for letting Owen talk me into leaving him behind in the Craniopolis. I even brought Rummy out of that hell-hole—one rescue mutt I wish I’d left to his fate.

And now I have a pint-sized stray at my side, who I’ve no business bringing with me, because I don’t know the first thing about kids. Jakob would know what to do with her. The Septites all have huge extended families—which is part of the reason they moved off grid to begin with. They were opposed to the population quotas the world government enforced. I let out a heavy sigh. It was easier in the bunkers to overlook our differences, but Jakob’s Septite ways are not my ways, and his clan are not my people.

“We can’t go chasing after Blade with a kid along,” Trout whispers in my ear. “And you can hardly expect the Undergrounders to babysit her. You’re asking enough of them already.”

I glance down at the nest of curls bobbing along at my side. “I know. We’ll explain the situation to them. Then we’ll figure out what to do.”

Izzy jerks on my hand. “It’s rude to whispah,” she says, her clipped voice radiating disapproval.

I swallow hard. Halfway between a chuckle and a sob. It’s the first time I’ve been told to mind my manners since Ma died.

I
don’t let
Trout know the full extent of the apprehension I feel about showing back up with an emaciated six-year-old in tow. The Council members are already leery of my judgement, only too quick to question my leadership. I’m not stupid enough to even consider exposing Izzy to the risks that lie ahead. We need to find someplace safe to take her. But, if I divert our mission, it could spark another showdown between the Council members and me. I kick at a clod of dirt in my path. Maybe it’s best to hash things out between us before we go any farther. It’s time to set them straight on a few things anyway.

“She’s dragging her feet already.” Trout gestures at Izzy. “You’ll have to carry her or we’ll never catch up with the others. Give me your pack.”

I shrug my shoulders out of the straps and hand my pack to Trout with a grateful smile. I trust him to side with me on this no matter what the Undergrounders say. My instincts about Trout have been spot on so far.

I pick Izzy up in my arms and begin making my way through a tangle of brush back to the trail. Tucker plods along at my side, sniffing under the odd downed tree or lichen-covered rock. He isn’t wasting any time second-guessing the new addition. It was love at first sight for him.

I take a closer look at Izzy’s clothes as I walk—long-sleeved shirt, tattered blue skirt that reaches to her mud-caked boots. Her family was Septite homesteaders, I’m guessing.

“Where’s your bonnet, little lady?” I whisper into her ear.

There’s a long pause, as if she’s trying to remember.

Her voice warbles when she speaks. “I pulled it over my eyes so I didn’t see them.”

I chew on my lip. I’m not sure if she means the Rogues or her murdered parents. Best not to press for details.

“
L
isten
!” Trout holds up a hand, and Izzy and I come to an abrupt stop behind him. I set her down and peer through the trees.

“I think I hear them,” Trout says. He gives a signal whistle and an Undergrounder whistles twice in response.

I lock eyes with Trout and tilt my head toward Izzy. “Are you with me on this.”

He gives a curt nod. “Brace yourself. It could turn ugly.”

I take a deep breath and follow him into the fray.

Izzy grips my hand tightly as Sven and the Undergrounders cluster around. A chilled silence descends. They stare at Izzy, then turn to me, a mixture of fear and disbelief in their eyes. A lone child can mean only one thing.
Dead Undergrounders
.

“Rogues raided her bunker,” Trout says.

Jett steps forward. “Are you mad? What are we supposed to do with
her
? We can’t take her along.”

I look at him coldly. “Her name’s Izzy, and we can’t just leave her here. She has no family left.”

“Do too!”

I startle at Izzy’s indignant voice. Trout raises his brows questioningly.

I drop down on one knee in front of Izzy. “I thought you said your parents were dead.”

She crosses her arms and holds them stiffly an inch or two beneath her grubby chin. “My brother ran away with the others.”

“What do you mean? What others?”

“The ones what lived in our bunker.”

My heart races. So there
were
survivors.

I lay my hands on Izzy’s shoulders. “Do you know where they went?”

She stares at me solemnly. “Yup.” She twists her lips sideways, gives a quick, defiant scan of the faces around her, and then leans over and cups her hand over my ear. “Shoshane City. The bad guy what told me to run away said that.”

I rock back on my heels.
Does she mean a Rogue?
If one of them helped her escape, they aren’t all as heartless as I thought. My mind races to assemble my thoughts. If the Undergrounders from her bunker are fleeing to Shoshane City, it must be at least partly habitable. It’s time I got some details from Rummy on the city’s condition when he fled the reeducation center. I stand and turn to Trout. “Get someone to take Izzy over to that knoll for a few minutes while I talk to Rummy. I don’t want him scaring her.”

I pull Sven aside. “I need to have a conversation with Rummy, in private,” I say. “If the city is habitable, we can take Izzy there before we leave for the wilderness.”

“I’m not sure the Council members will go for it,” Sven says. “I had a tough time convincing them not to return to the base as it is. You and Trout were gone so long, they got skittish.”

I knot my brow. “We didn’t plan on finding Izzy.”

Sven’s mouth curls into a smile. “I’m glad it was her and not Blade, because it means you’re safe.”

I bite my bottom lip, wondering if he can hear how loudly my heart is thumping. He turns and walks over to a cluster of trees a short distance from the trail and hauls Rummy and Won to their feet. Izzy’s eyes widen when she glimpses Rummy’s face. She pales and trots off with a red-headed Council member without a word of protest.

Rummy flicks his eyes over Izzy’s retreating back as he approaches. Tucker sits up on his haunches, alert and mistrustful.

“She your little sistah?” Rummy sneers.

I stare at him coldly. “Maybe I just like collecting strays. Brought you along, didn’t I?”

He scrunches his eyes up for a moment and then drops his gaze. When he looks up again, he sniffs hard. “That clone told me what you did for me in the Craniopolis.”

“Can’t say I haven’t had my regrets.”

“So I owe you one.” He scratches at his stubble. “Don’t mean I like you any better.”

“That’s fair.” I cross my arms. “You can start working off your debt of gratitude by talking the Rogues out of this killing spree they’re on. Taking out innocent Undergrounders, like that little girl’s parents.”

He picks at his teeth with his thumbnail. “It’s the dang snitches, see. Selling us out to the Sweepers. Gotta clean out the rats or we all die.”

Sven’s eyes meet mine. His brows flick questioningly upward as he balls his fists at his sides.

I give a subtle shake of my head. I need Rummy to cooperate, and if he does it without being coerced, it will be less unsettling for the Undergrounders who are already skeptical about our alliance.

I level my eyes at him. “You call off the Rogues, and I’ll take care of the snitches.”

He laughs silently, his ribs shaking as he appraises me. “How you gonna stop them punks, eh?” He fingers his pierced brow, and then leans menacingly toward me. “You don’t even know which o’ them’s the snitches.”

I hesitate for a moment. I can’t tell him everything, but Rummy’s going to need something solid to offer the Rogues. I do a quick gut check and opt for a compromise. “Sven found out something.”

Rummy raises his brow in mock expectation.

I make a show of glancing over my shoulder and then lean in close. “The bootlegged clones all have the same circular tattoo on their right ankle.”

Rummy’s expression darkens. “You dissin’ me, or what?” His brows come together in a deep crevasse. “Gangster clones with a lousy tattoo on their dang legs.”

I fix him with an icy stare. “That’s exactly what they are, and they specialize in extractions.”

“
H
ey
!” Jett elbows his way past Trout and Sven, and glowers at me. “Enough of this secret pow-wowing!” He jerks his head in Izzy’s direction. “We wanna know what you’re gonna do about
her
.”

The other Council members close in behind him. I steel myself, remembering Trout’s warning. I haven’t had time to weigh the pros and cons of my decision, but it’s the only reasonable course of action.

“The Undergrounders are fleeing to Shoshane City,” I say. “That’s where Izzy’s brother is and that’s where we’ll take her.”

A chorus of protests ring out, but it’s the dull background murmuring, that unsettles me most. An uneasy anthem of dissent that heralds mutiny. Sven moves swiftly to my side, silent as a shadow. Trout rubs his jaw, surveying the group.

“Nobody said anything about going to Shoshane City when we took the vote,” Jett says. “No one’s been back there since the meltdown. The air could still be toxic at that low of an altitude. And what about militia? If there are survivors in the city, they’ve probably armed themselves by now.”

“If it’s true the Undergrounders are fleeing there, we should at least try and reunite Izzy with her brother,” Trout says. “He’s the only family she has left.”

“Then let him come looking for her,” Jett retorts.

Trout rumples his brow in frustration. “We can’t leave her by herself.”

“We could take her back to Big Ed,” Panju suggests.

I hesitate. If we’re on Blade’s trail I don’t want to lose it, but I can’t tell the Council members that. “We can’t afford to waste time going back. Shoshane City’s not far out of our way, and I’m sure Izzy would rather be with her brother than Big Ed.”

Jett shoves Trout in the chest. “I didn’t sign up for this.” He turns to the others. “This is messed up. I’m going back to the base. Who’s coming with me?”

I grab him by the arm and swing him around. “Wait! Just listen for a second! Going to Shoshane City might not be such a bad idea. If Undergrounders are fleeing there, we can recruit more help before we head for the wilderness. Supplies, weapons, and anything else we can get our hands on.”

He wrenches his arm free and glares at me. Tucker gives a savage growl, and Jett backs away a few steps. “That little kid’s a liability. You’re out of your freaking mind to believe anything she says. You’re not fit to lead a rabbit hunt.”

I open my mouth to reply, but another Council member jumps in. “Maybe it was Derry’s plan all along to lure us out of the mountains and down to Shoshane City so we’re vulnerable, easier to extract.” He looks around the group for affirmation. “How do we know
she’s
not a snitch? Owen turned on us, didn’t he? That’s why he stayed in the Craniopolis. Maybe they’re both snitches.”

Sven tenses at my side. I need to stop this now. Sven could kill someone with a swing of his fist, and then it will be a free-for-all.