New World Ashes (5 page)

I STARTLED AWAKE
, causing the muscles in my neck to twinge. I had just barely dozed off.

It wasn’t until the door swung inward that I realized that’s what had awakened me.

Major Ryker James stepped into the cell sneering contemptuously down at me. His eyes traced over me with a look of disgust. Despite the washed hair and change of clothing, I was sure I looked anything but healthy. I stared blankly at him.

“What, no smart comment for me this morning, Princess? I’m disappointed.” He said.

“I had a few quips in mind but dumbing them down for you takes too much energy.” I smirked sardonically as I stretched lazily. “So what do we have planned for today Ryker, ripping off my fingernails, poison-tipped needles?”

He stooped, snatching my upper arm in a tight grip and yanking me toward him. He towered over me. I stared down at his hand on my arm and was shocked to see that his fingers could close entirely around my bicep. I knew I had lost weight but I hadn’t realized until that moment just how much. He yanked my arm again, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“That’s Major James to you, Princess. You
will
respect me within these walls.” Keeping a firm grip, he hauled me though the door. The familiar black bag was over my head before I could lift my gaze. The hands forcing my wrists into the shackles were far from gentle.

“While your ideas sound enticing, we had something else in mind.” I could hear the malice in Ryker’s tone. Taking a restricted breath, I began counting our steps.

My guard still consisted of at least five other soldiers at all times, but I could tell by the variance in footsteps that it was a rotating guard. Ryker seemed to be the only constant in the group. I wondered mildly if he was assigned to my demise in particular or if he had just taken a perverse liking to overseeing torture. I felt the familiar drop in my stomach as the elevator rose again, but unlike the time I visited The Minister’s office, we stopped after only a few seconds. The gliding doors were nearly soundless as they opened, but the blast of noise from beyond caused me to start with surprise. The sounds of combat hammering my ears were all too familiar. Ryker forced me forward and the noise magnified.

A hand roughly yanked the bag away from my head. I was prepared for the change in lighting this time. My eyes adjusted. It looked like a warehouse. Everything was painted the same lackluster dark grey. There were clerestory windows surrounding the space, diffusing the room with muted sunlight. Aside from a few sparse bulbs and the dimmed sunlight, everything in the room was heavy and dark. It seemed the absolute inverse of The Minister’s office. While I did not remember standing in the cavernous room myself, this was the same room I had seen my younger-self sparring in just days ago on the monitor screens. My eyes darted to the sparring rings scattered in the room and my heart sank. Older soldiers dressed in customary silver stood outside of the rings overseeing the matches. The fighters poised inside, however, were much younger.

They were children.

My eyes flitted from sparring match to sparring match. Most of them appeared to be under ten, dressed in matching drab grey uniforms. The dream from last night came racing back.

“Cadets!” Ryker’s voice rang out, echoing back in the open space. All sparring teams froze in their matches. Their supervisors snapped to attention, saluting their superior.

“Line up!” The female solider on my left cried out. There was a scramble as the young cadets ran to assemble before us. I could not help but stare as their curious eyes flickered toward me. My throat swelled as I took each face in. Based on my short time spent around the Subversive’s children, I roughly gauged their ages. The oldest child was maybe thirteen, the youngest bordering on seven. Each child bore the marks of fighting—bloody noses, blackened eyes and jaws, fat lips, bloody knuckles—every one marred by Fandrin’s edicts.

“We have a special treat for you today.” Ryker said. Several of the children’s attention flickered to me once more. “Our honored guest here used to be the best in her class. The fastest rising cadet in our militia. She was our fiercest fighter, best weapons expert and our most lethal hope for maintaining our utopian society here in The Sanctuary.”

All eyes broke rank this time. They gazed at me in appreciation, but just as that faint light of admiration sparked, Ryker snuffed it out with his next words.

“BUT… it seems that our prodigy here has forgotten her place.” He prowled down the line of children as he spoke. “WHO are we here to serve?!”

“The Minister Sir!” The cadets shouted in unison, their curious eyes snapping back to attention.

“And who do we protect?!” Ryker bellowed.

“The Minister Sir!” Their volume rose with pride.

“And who would we
die
for?!” His icy stare shifted to me.

“The Minister Sir!”

I repressed a shiver, as my chest heaved with hate.

“And
why
do we live to protect our Minister?” He held my gaze. I wanted to slit his throat.

The echo of their perfectly synchronized response made the flesh on my arms prickle. “We live to serve and protect our Minister because he is the glue that holds our society together. He is our leader and our savior. Equality! Unity! Freedom! Semper fi!”

My heart stuttered as their last words rebounded back to me, the translation racing through my mind.
Always faithful.
I knew that phrase from the history books I had read in the library. It had been used in the Old World’s military. It was a phrase of honor, of loyalty to country and state. But to hear it from the mouths of children… Staring at their blank, obedient faces… They didn’t know what they were saying,
couldn’t
know the monster they were committing their lives to.

Ryker turned to me, barely concealing a grin. When he spoke, his words were only for me. “The Minister owns them. Their every breath, their every thought. They have already been molded into his perfect little soldiers. He owns them, and soon he will own you too, Princess.”

I lunged forward, feeling my wrists bruise as I pulled against my shackles. Just before I could reach Ryker’s face—which I intended to smash with my skull—someone yanked me backward, forcing my arms excruciatingly upward. I doubled forward trying unsuccessfully to alleviate some of the pain blazing in my shoulders. A few more inches of pressure and both my arms would come out of their sockets.

Ryker leaned forward, so he could see my face. “Save it, Princess. You’re going to need that energy.”

“Cadet Norris, in the ring.” He barked, still looking at me.

I watched through the tendrils of my hair as one of the older children, a boy about the age of thirteen, jumped forward. With a salute, he moved to the nearest sparring mat.

“Today we will be reminding our guest where she comes from. You cadets will be fighting for merit and honor. But today there will be no resignations. There will be no conceding defeat. You will fight until one of you no longer can.” Ryker said.

The children’s nervous looks were prominent on their paling faces. Still, they each shouted, “Sir, yes Sir!”

Swallowing back vomit, I stared at my shoes. They were going to make me watch as these children beat each other to a bloody pulp. Honestly, I would have preferred the electric shock. I had done this same thing as a child, but I could remember nothing of it. It made no mark on my memory, but my dream last night made me think of Mouse. She did remember her life here, and it haunted her. Every child’s face I stared at, I saw hers.

“There will be one other change to our normal training.” Ryker’s deep voice rang out once more. In one swift movement, the manacles were released from my wrists and I was shoved forward into the ring. I staggered, nearly colliding with the equally surprised boy. “You will be fighting against a trained soldier who has survived with the savages outside of The Wall. She may look weak, but don’t underestimate her. She is as lethal as any Tartarus Tribesman.”

The children visibly stiffened, but to my astonishment their rigidity did not appear to be from fear but from determination. I was no longer the pride of their city. I was the enemy. I was everything they feared, everything they had been raised to hate. I was what they were training to keep out.

Rubbing my wrists, I drew myself up to full height and squared my shoulders against the Major. They couldn’t make me do this. This was not a nightmare. I had a choice.

“I
refuse
to fight.”

“You
will
fight, or they will suffer the consequences.” To my surprise, it wasn’t Ryker who responded but a soldier at the back of my guard. I had not noticed him before now, but as he moved forward through the pack of soldiers I recognized him. He was there the night I first met The Minister and again later in his office. It was the boy whose eyes reminded me of Mouse. Before, among the older soldiers, he had seemed so young. But now surrounded by children, I realized my first judgment had been false. He was young, yes, but no longer a child. Maybe fourteen or fifteen, but small for his age. Yet, he wore a white suit and his shoulders were adorned with silver epaulettes. He was not a mere soldier, but an officer—despite his young age. There was something in his tone that set my nerves on edge as he spoke again. “And I doubt your conscience can handle the repercussions of your actions.”

I prickled as his large brown eyes glazed over like ice. My mind raced, searching for options. If I fought weakly, if I let the children get in a few good hits and ran out the fights until they were too exhausted to fight… Or if I could fake a knock out, maybe I could spare them. The soldiers seemed to think I was still a strong fighter but they had not seen me fight in years. Witnessed me fire a gun when we had tried avoiding capture—yes, but engage in hand-to-hand combat—no. Maybe I could fake loss of technique.

Six months ago, I would have fought these children. On the streets of Tartarus, the old Phoenix would have engaged anyone who came across her path and demolished them without a second thought. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. Not after Mouse, after Triven. And especially not after meeting The Minister.

I met Ryker’s sharp eyes and nodded once. As I turned to face the blonde-haired boy in the ring, a small fist thrust toward my face. Instinctively I dodged sideways, and popped my wrist out catching him in the side.  An involuntary yelp escaped the boy and my heart plummeted. The many years of training and fighting to survive were hard to ignore. Synapses fired in my brain, my muscles twitching with the urge to fight, but I repressed them. The boy bobbed twice, swinging sloppily with his right hand. He threw too hard. His left hand dropped leaving his entire left side open, but I did nothing. Instead, I let his fist collide with my jaw. The sound was much more impressive than the actual punch, but I went with it, staggering a little, allowing the boy time to regain his own balance. The crowd of on-looking cadets cheered, but Ryker’s and the threatening young soldier’s eyes narrowed. They were not deceived.

I loosened my stance, tried to make my form look poor.

Think novice.
I reminded myself.

I threw a punch, stepping forward to warn the boy of my intent. To my relief, he read my body language and stepped back letting the blow glance off his shoulder. I let my body fall forward with the force of my throw, leaving my head exposed. Careful not to let any anticipatory flinch cross my features, I prepared for his next assault. He took the opening and landed a clean blow to the back of my head with his elbow. Stars popped in my eyes, but his hit was not yet as strong as an adult’s. Still, I dropped to my knees feigning a concussion. I let the boy punch me in the jaw and collapsed forward pulling my hands around my head like a novice fighter would. The boy went in for the kill and began assaulting my midriff with kicks. Despite his smaller size, I felt a rib crack. Even then, I stayed down and continued to take the beating.

I could hear his fellow cadets cheering him on, but a roar rose above theirs. “Enough!!!”

I rolled onto my back just in time to see the young, brown-haired officer rip the blonde boy away from me. The officer pointed a stubby finger at me. His eyes were ablaze with wild cruelty. “I warned you. You chose to fight like coward and now they will pay the price.”

Horror sucked the air from my lungs when he punched the boy in the throat. As the child doubled over in pain, grasping at his neck—desperate for air—the officer began to pummel his face. I jumped to my feet just as the child’s nose broke. I lunged forward but arms bound me like an iron cage.

He was going to kill the little boy.

I SCREAMED AT
the young officer to stop, struggling against the arms holding me back. My legs flung out to kick the person restraining me, but he squeezed tighter. My broken rib blazed but I ignored it.

The young officer had snapped the boy’s arm nearly in two. The child’s screams were like razorblades against my eardrums. My attempts to free myself became erratic. I knew this wasn’t how I would normally act, but I couldn’t stop. One name kept thrumming in my head.

Mouse, Mouse, Mouse…

I yelled louder, so loud my throat felt like it would tear. With all the screaming and thrashing, it took a moment for me to hear the soft, sinister voice in my ear.

“Gage will kill that boy, Prea. He doesn’t care if there is one less cadet in the ranks. He will sacrifice that boy or any other child to teach you a lesson.” Ryker’s voice made my blood run cold. “You can stop this. You may hurt one of them, but at least then you’re in control. Unless you’re too weak to handle it,
Princess.
”

The Mouse-like young man—Gage, as Ryker called him—raised his fist to deliver the final blow to the limp boy dangling in his grasp.

“I’LL FIGHT!” I screamed. Gage paused to look at me. The pleasure in his eyes made my insides clench. I spoke softer now. “Okay… I will fight for real. No more feigning.”

Gage dropped the boy with a triumphant smile. “Get this weak piece of trash out of my sight. He fights like a child. Who’s next?”

“Good girl.” Ryker crooned in my ear. I could hear him smiling as he said it.

Ryker released me, shoving me forward, as Gage stepped out of the ring and called the name of a new competitor. A girl no more then twelve stepped onto the mat. Gage pulled a gun from his side holster. Crossing his arms, he tapped the barrel against his arm with a pointed look.
You fight or I’ll shoot her,
it said.

I readied my stance.

THE SCREAMS ECHOED
off the walls of my cell, magnified in the tiny room. I knew the screams were mine, but still it took a while to quiet them. It had gotten worse over the last three days. The screams I could usually choke back or quiet once I awoke had taken on a life of their own. I would awake multiple times a night screaming so loud I could taste blood.

I never slept for more than half an hour. By the time I finally got my body to stop shaking and could doze off, it would start all over again. The nightmares that plagued me were of my parents, of Mouse and Triven and of Maddox’s dead eyes. They were getting worse, more vivid and more violent with each passing day. Before when I awoke, I had always known it was just a dream, past memories that couldn’t be changed, but now they seemed so real… so present…

Despite my resolve, they were breaking me.

My knuckles were swollen and bloody, my face blotched with purple and yellowing bruises and my fractured ribs ached every time I breathed. But this was not the worst of it. I could feel my mental stability crumbling. For the past five days I had been forced to fight child after child. I wanted to keep them safe, to keep them away from the boy who had once foolishly reminded me of my Mouse. I say
foolishly
reminded because he now resembled nothing of the child I had sacrificed my life for. Gage’s brown eyes, which I had once found deep and pensive, were now hardened and cruel. He became the antithesis of everything I saw in Mouse.

Each fight I told myself I was hurting that child to save them from a worse fate, but it was becoming harder and harder to believe that. At first I just knocked a few kids out cold, before they could even raise their fists to fight, but then I began to worry about the brain damage I might inflict doing that. So then, I changed my strategy to painful but reparable injuries, dislocated shoulders, sprained ankles, broken fingers and in one extreme case where the child was too stubborn to give up, a broken arm.

I hated myself for it.

For five days I had been hurting innocent children and even if it was to protect them, it made me sick. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten, and my body was starting to show the signs of fatigue. During the last fight yesterday, I actually blacked out for a few seconds. Ryker’s keen eyes watched me carefully, analyzing my every move. I was beginning to crack and he knew it. Gage stayed within sight of the ring at all times, his gun always ready, but he kept his distance as long as I continued to fight.

I pulled myself into a ball and stared at the red light on the camera above me. They would come for me soon and we would start this perverse torture all over again. I squeezed my eyes shut but not before a single tear escaped. Hope was nearly gone. It felt like my soul was dying. If I didn’t escape soon, I would lose my mind. The dreams were also starting to happen when I wasn’t asleep.

My mind was still churning when I heard the familiar sounds of footsteps outside the door. There was something different this time though. Unless my ears were deceiving me—which it was possible they were right now—there were fewer guards this time. Forcing myself into a seated position, I twisted toward the door, giving myself the best vantage point of the hallway when it opened. The seconds seemed to stretch as I stared at the steel door waiting for it to move. Eventually, I could hear the back of a hand brush the metal surface as it reached for the handle. I trained my eyes on the hallway behind the figure, my mind calculating as Major Ryker James walked into my cell.

“Having sweet dreams, Princess?” Ryker asked in a mocking tone.

I held my tongue. There were only two guards with him in the hall. It seems the arrogant prick was finally underestimating me.

Idiot.

“Oh, don’t pout. We have another thrilling day planned for you, your highness. Besides it makes that pretty face of yours so unbecoming.” He leaned over me smirking. I stared pointedly at his left ear, refusing to meet his eyes. My heart skipped a beat as something over his shoulder caught my eye. I smoothed my face to hide my excitement. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

He thoughtlessly leaned closer as my heart rate began to spike. I hoped he couldn’t hear it in the small room. I stared harder at his ear to mask what I was truly watching. The light on the camera just above his head had lost power twice now, the tiny red light flickering out and then back on. Whatever the cause of the power failure, it seemed the odds might be in my favor for the first time since I had set foot in this city. If the power to the cameras went off now, when there only happened to be two other guards watching me, I actually stood a chance of making an escape.

Ryker was speaking to me again, but I wasn’t listening. I was recounting the steps to the elevator in my mind. Then I calculated the amount of time spent in the elevator to reach a floor above ground. Thirty seconds maybe, so at least three floors above where I was now. I could make up the rest as I went. Maybe even escape into the elevator shaft itself. I would be harder to track there. The light pulsed again, staying off for nearly five seconds this time.

This was it.

I turned my face to his, meeting his glassy stare with my own. A manic grin erupted on my lips and widened when he flinched in response. Sensing his blunder, he quickly leaned closer in an attempt to intimidate me and cover his own fear.

“Something funny, Princess?” His dark eyebrows furrowed as he studied my face.

Eight seconds this time.
The power failures were increasing in duration, each time lengthened by three seconds. Next would be for eleven. That was all I needed.

He leaned in so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. I held his gaze, but I was really watching the red light. His voice dropped so I could barely hear it. “Whatever you are thinking about, you had better wipe that smile off your face or Fandrin will do it for you. You are going to keep your mouth shut and do exactly as I say or else—”

I never got to hear the rest of his threat. The light flickered off as he spoke and I launched myself into action. I slammed my face forward, cracking the top of my skull into his perfect nose. There was a satisfying crunch as blood began to pour down Ryker’s face, marring his perfectly white uniform. He staggered backward, arms flailing wildly for me, but I was ready for him. Kicking out, I caught him square in the chest sending him reeling backward into the silver toilet.

Eight seconds left.

Ignoring the pain in my ribs, I twisted to the door just as the first guard exploded through it, gun half raised and confusion on her face. Leaping into the air, I landed a foot on the doorknob while catching the baffled guard in the jaw with the other. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she slumped to the side clearing my path.

Four seconds.

After tipping forward to let my fingertips reach the doorframe, I then swung myself out into the hallway colliding with the second guard. We crashed to the ground with me astride his chest, the fingers of one of my hands already winding themselves in his hair as the other hand pulled back, poised to punch him in the face. Before I could strike, his gun went off and searing pain ripped across my left temple. Despite the warm blood I could feel dripping down my face, I knew it was merely superficial. I locked my jaw and punched him twice before his body went slack.

Time’s up.

Precisely as the thought crossed my mind, a screaming alarm erupted through the barren halls. I reached for the guard’s gun but snatched my hand back as the wall in front of me exploded into bits. Rolling sideways, I glanced back into my cell. Pulling himself up on the toilet with one arm, Ryker held his gun shakily in the other, his eyes crazed as they flickered to the camera in the corner of the cell and to me. I reached for the fallen guard’s weapon again, but Ryker’s hand twitched and the wall behind me exploded for a second time.

Cursing, I abandoned the gun and bolted down the hall. My prisoner-provided linen shoes slid on the floor. I was losing precious seconds. My mind raced, retracing the steps I had walked so many times with the hood on.
Right at sixty-five. Left at one hundred and ninety-seven.
The steps were easy, more due to the fact that there were no other paths to take. The elevator came into view. Its doors were open. I pushed harder. The pain in my head was escalating, the alarms seeming to grow in intensity with the throbbing. I slid to a halt inside the elevator. My eyes instantly searched for the buttons, but the panels were all blank except for a scanner. I lunged for the opening, but the doors snapped closed with surprising speed, narrowly missing my hand as I leapt backward. My stomach dropped and I knew the elevator was moving upward.

“Damn it.” I muttered.

I had just trapped myself in a metal gift-wrapped box for The Minister. Taking a deep breath, I searched the ceiling. It looked like a solid surface. There was no escaping. I raced through my options, the doors would open soon and I had to do something. Glancing around I kicked off my shoes and tossed them over the two small cameras in the corners. Now at least both of us were blind. The elevator was small enough if I stretched to my tiptoes I could just reach the opposite side with my fingertips. The progression was slow and painful, but I managed to walk myself up the walls in this strange, extended “x” position. Just as I reached the top, my back touching the ceiling, the momentum of the elevator began to slow. Had I not been suspended in the air, trying to hold myself up, I might not have felt the elevator stop. But as I was precariously perched on the walls of the moving box, I could feel my sweaty fingers slip just a little as the elevator halted. Blood dripped from the wound on my head. A small puddle had collected below me. I pressed my temple to my arm to staunch the bleeding. The doors opened slower than they had closed. I stopped breathing.

I waited. Sweat was beginning to pool on my face.

There were no words spoken, but I could hear the unmistakable sounds of fabric swishing together as someone gave rapid hand signals. Feet began moving against the hard floor outside. There must have been at least six guards by my count. Slowly, the muzzle of a gun protruded its way through the open door, followed by hands, then arms suited in silver. Just as her blonde head came into view, I retracted my arms and legs, launching myself onto the guard below. My hands wrapped around the barrel of her gun as my feet connected with her knees. The Master’s training on how to successfully disarm someone flashed in my mind as my hands moved. Side-stepping the barrel in case she actually managed to get a round off, I pulled the gun toward me for just a moment dislodging it from her shoulder. As her muscles contracted instinctively to pull the gun back, I moved forward, using her own momentum against her. The butt of the gun popped her hard in the face. As her eyes swam, I twisted the gun up and over her head and spun her like a human top. I brought her to a stop, yanking her arm up behind her back until I could feel the tendons protest. She yelped, but otherwise did not fight me. The whole elaborate dance took barely five seconds and ended with my back to the elevator wall, the gun in my hand, and the unfortunate guard acting as my own personal human shield.