Guardians (26 page)

Then she stumbled; her foot touched something soft and she nearly fell. Putting aside the bag, Esther reached forward to see what it was. Her competitor lay sprawled at the top of a landing, the bag of cement by his side.

Esther prodded him. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

He didn't reply.

There was nothing she could do. Esther continued upward
until she reached the roof, where Joseph waited. Her old friend could not risk questioning her, for there were others around; he expressed his concern by meeting her eye and raising an eyebrow. She gave a slight shake of her head in reply before dumping the bag in the corner. Then she turned and headed back.

Free of the massive weight she carried and walking downstairs, Esther at first felt wonderfully light. Then the effort became more and more painful. By the time she stumbled back into the lobby, her legs wobbled so badly she could barely stand.

Yet she had won. And as a result, she too found herself face-to-face with the little girl.

The strip of cloth was now soaking with perspiration. Esther feared it clung to her features and showed more of her face than she cared to reveal. Looking up, Saith began to hand Esther a sweet. Then, abruptly, the little girl glanced away.

“That enough.” She tossed the candy across the room, where it skittered on the dusty marble. “You get them.”

As exhausted as they were, everyone scrambled for the treats. Esther was not hungry, yet knew she would draw unwanted attention if she held back. As she got down on her knees and fought for a few pieces, she overheard Saith.

“Get the rest over with.”

Jud obeyed, yelling at the guards to help him bring forth the losers. One by one, each was pushed against the central counter and hit once, hard, across the back with his belt. Saith had kept a few candies for herself; as she watched, she sucked
on them. Yet before Jud was even halfway through, she seemed to lose interest in the diversion.

“That it,” she said to Gideon, who had rejoined her. During the spectacle, he had apparently climbed the stairs to the new garden by himself; now, his face was impassive. Saith bent her head close to his and spoke a few words. At one point, she took the unfinished candy out of her mouth and flicked it away. Then she started out of the room, not waiting for anyone.

As Saith disappeared, Gideon addressed Jud in private. Esther could not hear what he said, until he turned to leave.

“You hear her?” he said. “Get it done.”

Jud nodded silently as Gideon moved ahead to catch up with Saith.

Esther was relieved she hadn't been recognized. Yet something told her that it was the least of her worries.

After Saith and Gideon left, Jud ordered everyone back to the roof.

He moved to the only shaded area under a crude tent and sat heavily on one of the two chairs. Jud was normally in their midst, cracking his belt over the shoulders of anyone he perceived to be weak or slow. Yet he now sat unmoving for so long that everyone began casting anxious, sidelong looks at him.

Finally, one guard gathered the courage to approach. Esther couldn't hear what he said, but she saw Jud gaze up at him, his face a frightening mask of rage and mortification. He didn't bother to whisper, and his voice could be heard by all.

“We got to go faster.”

“But ain't possible.”

“Something slow us down.” Jud's bloodshot eyes flickered over the workers toiling at the far end of the roof. Then he came to a decision. “The little ones. We got to get rid of them.”

The other boy blinked. “Get rid of them? What you mean?”

“Kill them. That way we speed up.”

Esther inhaled. Although it was clear that everyone on the roof had heard, no one reacted; the only sound was the clanking of tools and the rasp of metal on the tar-paper roof. The suggestion seemed both too monstrous and too nonsensical to be real. Everyone's eyes were focused on the other guard, who was silent for a long moment.

At last he spoke. “You going to do that?”

“No,” Jud said. “
You
going to.”

After a second, the guard nodded. Yet when he walked back to the other guards, Esther noticed that his face was ashen. He consulted with his peers, but spoke too softly to be overheard.

Then he emerged from the huddle.

By now, the slaves had stopped working. The roof was so silent everyone could hear the squelch of the guard's sneakers on the hot tarred surface as he approached. As he walked, he hiked up his robes and his right hand went to his back waistband.

“All right.” His voice dull, he nodded at the smallest workers, who huddled together in terror. There were eight of them, the youngest no more than six or seven. “Some of you got to come with me.”

None of them moved. The boy raised his voice. “You hear? Got to come with me—”

A clear voice interrupted him. “You don't have to.”

Startled, the guard glanced up.

Esther had risen to her feet. She spoke loudly enough so that everyone on the roof could hear. “It's all up to you.”

“Shut up and sit down!”
screamed the guard.

From the corner of her eye, Esther could see Joseph quail as he stared at her, his eyes round with terror.
Of course Jud and his boys could shoot her dead,
she realized.
Everyone else as well. After all, they had weapons, and the slaves had none
. But there were worse things than death. If even one of the children were to go along with his or her destruction without questioning why, then they were all doomed.

She could not allow that to happen.

“That boy over there?” Esther crouched in front of the youngest and indicated the slave master with a nod. “He says he's got all the power. But that's only true if you believe him. If you don't, he's got nothing.”

A murmur rippled through the slaves.

“Little ones . . . on your feet!” The guard acted as if Esther hadn't spoken. He pointed at a tiny girl with enormous eyes. “You first!”

The child stared up at him, terrified. She seemed about to rise. Then she couldn't help it: She glanced at Esther.

“He says he's in charge.” Esther spoke in a soft voice. “But that's only if you let him order you around.” Holding her gaze, the girl gave a slight nod. She didn't move.

By now, the whispering among the slaves had grown more agitated. Esther didn't blame them; if her plan backfired, she
was putting all of their lives at risk. And yet she was aware of a basic and more practical truth:
Jud needed them
. He needed them to finish building the altar and the roof; without them, he alone would face Saith's wrath. Esther realized that this did not give her and her fellow workers much power; still, it was something. And none of them had anything left to lose.

“Listen to her,” someone said.

“Stay where you are,” called another.

“Get up
!
”

The guard was desperate. Esther could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want to carry out his orders; he was acting from fear alone, making him nearly as vulnerable as the slaves themselves. Knowing this, Esther met his eyes in a silent appeal. The guard started back, shocked, as if she had somehow seen inside him. But he didn't have time to respond.

“Out of the way.”

Jud had arisen. With one forceful movement, he shoved the guard to the side. Now he faced the assemblage, the belt in his hand. There was a new depth to the anger in his voice: It was filled with pure hatred.

“You gonna get a
lot
of people killed now,” he told Esther.

But what Esther saw in the slaves' faces was something new. This time, there was no fear, no blame, no apathy. Instead, she saw fury . . . and rebellion.

Even killing them all would get Jud nowhere.

For a moment, Jud quailed, then he abruptly changed tactics. Stepping forward, he kicked his way through the crowd until he reached Esther. Then he grabbed her by her arm and
dragged her out before the others as he fumbled with his robes.

In one motion, he pulled a small gun from the waistband of his jeans and raised it to Esther's temple.

“
Now
things go faster,” he said.

The slaves erupted.

Bursting up off the floor like a single creature, they rushed forward with a roar of anger. Within seconds, they had knocked and trampled Jud to the ground, twisting his weapon from his grip. Then they turned their fury on the stunned guards, punching, kicking, and pinning them to the ground. The boy who had been ordered to kill the youngest struggled to retrieve his gun, but a boy punched him in the stomach, allowing a girl to wrestle it away. The incensed mob swarmed across the roof, destroying everything in its path.

Slaves seized every weapon they could tear from their captors—whips, belts, clubs, guns—and soon the air was filled with the sound of screams, beatings, and the occasional bang of a pistol.

Esther was stunned by the fast-moving melee and found herself unable to do anything about it. She felt that she had pulled an obstruction away from a river and now the force of the flood was beyond stopping. Stumbling backward, she found Joseph, who stood on the other side of the roof, pale and unmoving. One hand pressed to his mouth, he clung to his cat carrier so tightly Esther could hear the plaintive cry of the animal inside.

Before them, a crowd had collected around something on the ground. For a second, the mob parted, and Esther could
see a bloodied Jud. Two slaves held him down, but there was no need; his body was broken and unmoving.

“Stop!” Esther cried. She strode forward and attempted to push through the hysterical throng.

Above the din, the slaves somehow heard her voice and obeyed. Some of them straightened, backing off. The smallest one turned, her face vacant, a smear of blood across her cheek. But they hadn't finished with their destruction.

As the workers began to shove past her in the opposite direction, Esther was at first puzzled. Then she understood where they were directing their rage: at the greenhouse, nearly completed.

“Let's tear it down!” one boy shouted, and his words were met with cheers.

“Tear it down!”

“No!” Esther shouted.

They chose not to hear. Within seconds, they had descended on the thing they had spent weeks building, wielding hammers and clubs and their fists. The air was filled with the deafening sounds of smashing panes and cracking wood. Splinters of glass glinted on the tar-paper floor; entire tables were knocked over and their tubs tumbled to the ground, splashing their contents everywhere.

Esther stood to the side. She was shaken and sickened by the destruction she had brought about; at the same time she was glad that they were free. Yet for how long? They could not take the risk of remaining.

Already, the workers were slowing down; they stood, vacant eyed and delirious, the worst of their energy spent. “We have to go,” Esther called out. “Now.”

The slaves blinked and wavered in the purple-and-orange light. Then, obedient, they allowed Esther to steer them toward the stairwell, dropping their tools as they went.

Overhead, the sun was setting, which was good; Esther knew they would need the darkness to hide them and cover their tracks. What's more, she could now make out something that filled her with the only hope she had left:

A smoke signal, faint yet high in the sky.

A
FTER FEEDING THE FIRE MORE DAMPENED WOOD,
S
KAR SCANNED THE
pale yellow haze of the late afternoon sky. Other than a faraway flock of birds, nothing stirred. She saw no answering plume of smoke rising from the city below. Once again, she experienced what had become a familiar reaction: a stab of disappointment followed by stoic resolve.

She would not give up trying to contact Esther until she knew for certain that she was dead
.

It had been many days since she had last seen her friend, on that terrible night they discovered the unspeakable secret in the District basement. After half dragging, half carrying Silas
up to the lobby, Skar had waited, expecting her friend to follow. Finally, she whispered to the boy to go outside. Skar had then bounded up the ten long flights back to her home two at a time, for she knew Gideon's boys would soon be on their way. In the precious minutes she had gained by her speed, she was able to gather Michal, Uri, and Kai, whom she quickly sent downstairs to join Silas. Yet, search as she might, she had not been able to locate Joseph or Sarah. She was still looking for them when she'd heard the Insurgent guards burst into the hall. Only then was she forced to leave, waiting for the moment the coast was clear before escaping to the stairwell.

In the confusion, Skar had been able to slip undetected across the lobby and out into the night. Silas, Michal, and the others were waiting for her across the street, trembling with fear and dismay as they huddled together in the shadows of a neighboring building. Skar knew that it would be minutes until Gideon realized they'd escaped and sent his boys out to hunt them down. So with a heavy heart, she had taken Kai in her arms, and ordered her friends to follow her as they fled into the night.

Because Silas knew the layout of the city better than anyone, Skar had asked him to guide them. With a crescent moon lighting their way, he had led them north, toward the shadowy mountain that loomed over the rest of the city. As they climbed uphill, Uri thought he recognized some of the streets where he, Saith, and their friends had once lived. But they did not stop. They now realized they could no longer trust anyone else. Silas led them even farther, to the distant side of the
hill, until they reached a neighborhood of two- and three-story houses and small businesses.

There, Skar found a storefront on the ground floor of a brick building. Taking a quick look inside, she saw that it seemed clean and vacant; even the glass windows were still mostly intact and had large, incomprehensible words painted on them:
ST-VIATEUR
and
BOULANGERIE.
The remnants of a peculiar five-pointed symbol could be seen on one window; adorning another was a picture of a round foodstuff with a hole in the middle. Skar ordered everyone inside, and at once they curled up on the dusty floor, Michal cradling Kai in her lap. Before long, all were asleep except Skar, who stood by the window until dawn, keeping an eye out for anyone who might have followed.

Later that morning, Silas Gleaned the other stores that lined the street and came back with a few crucial items: a firestarter nearly full of fuel, a firebowl, a bucket, a plastic bottle. Uri immediately went out in search of water to boil and filter, while Skar and Michal continued exploring the narrow streets, bringing Kai with them.

On the mountain's peak, the three had come across a spectacular building they hadn't noticed the night before. Only one story high, it had a massive roof made of red tile and large doors of broken glass on all sides. Within was an immense room, with a vaulted ceiling and a giant glittering construction of glass shards that hung high overhead. Dust motes danced in the light that poured in on all sides. Kai, enchanted, had clapped his hands, laughing at the echo; then raced across the smooth
floor, scattering pigeons that flew into the eaves, cooing.

Michal watched him for a moment before turning to Skar. “Can't we stay here instead?” she had begged.

Although it was undeniably beautiful, the wide and empty expanse had made Skar uneasy. “It's too obvious a place. . . . It would be the first place anyone would search,” she said. “And there's no place to hide.”

“But look.” Michal had already found that the large doors opened onto a terrace. She called to Kai, who ran past her onto the flagstone surface. Beyond the white cement fence that encircled its perimeter lay the entire city of Mundreel spread out beneath them, the massive buildings as tiny as Kai's toys. Michal had lifted the veil she always wore to feel the mountain breeze.

Skar had joined her. Yet she was not admiring the view; she had already noticed something in the distance. Although they were too far away to say for certain, she thought she recognized a distinctive building. It was made of a glittering yellow material that reflected the sky. If so, that meant she knew where the District was. . . .

Within moments, the variant girl had dragged out some old bedding she had seen inside the large room. She placed it in the center of the terrace, then dug the firestarter out of her pouch. It had taken several moments for the mattress to catch fire; the shredded white plastic that covered it crackled and melted at first, refusing to light. But at last the stuffing beneath it had ignited and soon the entire thing was ablaze, sending up foul-smelling smoke.

Holding Kai back from the flames, Michal had watched her partner questioningly.

“For Esther,” was all Skar replied.

“What if it draws someone else?”

Skar had only shrugged. The other girl nodded with sober understanding.

That was more than three weeks ago.

Even now, Skar followed the same routine every morning. At dawn, she went hunting with the bow and arrows Silas had Gleaned for her. Then, with her freshly killed prey dangling from her belt, she climbed to the mountainside terrace, gathering whatever she could find on the way that would burn: bits of furniture, discarded clothing and books, rotted wood. After building a fresh fire, she would watch the horizon.

But there was never a response.

Skar didn't bother tormenting herself with possibilities. Although she did not know why Esther had not followed her that night, it was not in her nature to dwell on what might have happened. All she knew was that she had complete faith in her friend's resourcefulness, strength, and determination. She also understood that if Esther were still alive, nothing on earth could keep her away from her children and loved ones. She would spend every waking moment searching for them, and so it was Skar's obligation to provide her with a sign.

Yet after so many days, Skar was growing uncertain.

Brooding, she now sat alone on the white stone balustrade. Her knees were drawn up to her chin as she stared down over the city. Behind her, the fire sent thick black smoke wafting up
into the purple-and-orange sky; the sun was close to the horizon and soon it would be time to return home for the night.

More and more, Skar wanted to return to the District to find out for herself what had befallen Esther. It was all she could do to keep herself from slipping back at night and breaking in. Yet she was aware that even when hooded, she was far too noticeable to casual onlookers. She also knew that although she had struggled to teach the others how to hunt, Michal, Silas, and Uri were still clumsy with the bow. Nor did they have any knowledge of how to track, stalk, or hide.

In short, Skar could not afford to let herself be caught.

Resigned, she was about to get up and return home.

Then she froze.

Something or someone was nearby. Skar had heard the crackle of a broken twig, seen a movement in the branches out of the corner of her eye, and sensed a sudden light muskiness. Was it a curious animal or child drawn by the fire?

Or was it someone more dangerous?

Skar tensed. Although she wasn't much of a fighter, she hoped to escape without being seen. She slithered to the ground in a single, silent move. Then she crept along the stone fence, trying to slip away undetected. She was almost at the end when an unfamiliar voice rang out.

“Hold it.”

A boy stepped out from the trees. In the glare of the setting sun, his white clothing seemed to give off a brilliant light. Still, Skar could see clearly enough to realize that he held an object pointed at her.

It was a gun.

Skar straightened and turned to face the stranger. The boy lowered the weapon.

“I know you.” He sounded surprised.

And as he stepped forward, Skar finally saw who it was.

Trey stood before her, the assassin who worked for Gideon. His face looked thinner than when she had passed him that night on the District stairs. Yet he was unmistakable in his white clothing, with the curious white stripe in his dark hair.

“What you doing up here?” With a single movement, Trey returned his weapon to its hiding place.

“We left the District,” replied Skar, choosing her words with care. Trey didn't appear to be hunting them down; after all, he had put away his gun. Still, she had no idea what allegiances he still held or what price, if any, had been placed on their heads.

“So did I. Me and Gideon, we had a parting of the ways.” As he spoke, the boy gazed beyond Skar, as if expecting to see someone else with her.

“Yet you are still in Mundreel,” she said. “Why?”

Trey shrugged. “Thought I could get me more work out here. But it hard. Nobody got anything to trade: no food, nothing. Nobody want anything except to go see that little girl and get saved.”

Skar shot him a quick look.
Was he testing her?
Keeping her face neutral, she nodded, revealing nothing.

The boy indicated the fire. “What that?”

Skar followed his gaze but looked back at him, not answering.

He persisted. “You trying to signal someone?”

The girl wasn't certain, but thought she detected something in his voice—a flicker of vulnerability—and so she decided to take a chance. Keeping a close watch on his expression, she spoke in a flat and deliberate voice. “I'm trying to find Esther.”

The effect was unmistakable. At the mention of her friend's name, Trey gave a start and glanced up. His face flushed.

In an instant, he looked like a young boy. And in that moment, Skar understood.

“Can you help us?” The question rose to her lips before she knew it. She still couldn't tell whether she could trust the killer, yet she was desperate enough to take a chance. “I last saw her many days ago, when we escaped. It's impossible for us to go back. . . . I think Gideon's boys may still be looking for us.”

“So she alive?”

“That is what I need you to find out.”

Trey said nothing, gazing at the ground.

Skar wondered why he hesitated. Then, with a pang, she remembered that he was a hired hand, someone who only worked for pay. She wracked her mind for what she could offer. “We don't have any glass,” she said at last, “but if you bring us news, we will give you food and water to last you many days. I promise.”

Trey flashed her a wounded look. “I don't need pay,” he said, spitting out the words.

For what felt like the first time in weeks, Skar's heart
expanded within her and she smiled with genuine warmth.

“I understand,” was all she said.

Trey took time to reload his weapon, then took off into the night. Skar watched him from the terrace, a flash of white disappearing into the forest below.

Long ago, experience had taught her to expect the worst. Yet for now, at least, she was filled with a strange new hope.

Stars lay scattered across the night sky. Far beneath it, the silence of the dark streets was broken by cries and the sounds of destruction.

Esther kept close to the edge of the building. Behind her in the shadows, she could feel Ava tremble as she pressed against her. Around the corner, they could hear the smash of cudgels and the sound of people screaming. The acrid smoke of torches hung heavy in the air.

Once she and the slaves had made it to the street, the reality of their freedom hit them. Many of them turned to one another, hugging or slapping one another on the back as they shouted and wept with relief. Buoyed by their victory, they lingered on the sidewalk. Some picked up bricks and stray tools from the street and threw them at the lobby doors and walls, laughing and cheering at the sound of splintering glass.

But Esther knew there was no time for celebration. Although it was nearing the end of the day, she was sure fresh teams of workers were still due to arrive with materials. It would be only a matter of minutes before someone discovered what had happened. And, once word of the rebellion spread, Gideon's
guards would be out in force, searching for the escaped slaves.

But Esther had no idea it would be so soon.

She'd been able to convince only Ava to join her and Joseph. Although all three of them were weak and shaky, she had taken them by the hands and forced them to run with her, leaving the joyous cacophony behind. She'd hoped that while there was still light in the sky, she had a chance of pinpointing the location of the smoke signal. Perhaps she could even build a fire of her own in response. Yet no sooner had they gone three blocks than she heard the faint sounds of celebration turn to screams of terror.

Clearly, Gideon's guards had arrived, and from what Esther could discern, they were suppressing the uprising with swift brutality.

Now, the three shrank back in the shadows as they heard someone approach, running fast. A slave boy, the one who had been the first winner of Saith's contest, rounded the corner. When he saw them, he shot them a look of desperate appeal. But before Esther could pull him to safety, a guard caught up and bashed him over the head with a metal club. The boy pitched forward and collapsed at their feet, shuddering and twitching. Then he was still. Ava gave a choked cry and Esther put her arms around the girl, silencing her until the guard moved on.