Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) (19 page)

My eyes widen as my heart
rate quickens. The man’s voice seems to haunt me. Those four ominous words echo
in my ears.

We will not die.

We will not die . . . .

“Are you okay?”

I jump when Jenner nudges
my arm. Glancing up, I jerk my head toward the man sitting opposite us. “What’s
he saying?” I whisper.

Jenner inhales deeply. I
peek up at him, but the expression on his face does nothing to settle my
nerves.

“I guess you could say it’s
our motto,” he answers. “A sort of promise we all make to keep the rebellion
going. On the other hand, you could also say it’s a warning.” He looks over at
me, meeting my confused gaze. “We’ll never give up. We’ll keep on fighting
until there’s nothing left to fight for.”

My eyes drop to the ground.
While I admire the notion behind those words, I also can’t help but feel
anxious about it—like it’s the sort of thing they only say when they think
they’re going to die.

“You know, I’m surprised Ez
allowed you to come with us,” he says, changing the subject.

I’m taken aback by his
statement, mostly because I agree with it. From the moment Ezra relented to my
insane request, I’ve wondered time and again about the obvious motive behind
it.

Why am I here? What help can
I possibly be to these people?

“Why?” I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders.
“Well, you’re valuable, for one thing. If the DSD wants you, and we lose you,
then we’re also potentially losing the one thing that could give us the
advantage in this damn war.”

I stare at him blankly as I
mull over his words. I don’t like the implication behind them—the idea that I’m
a pawn to be used. Nothing more than a piece in some giant puzzle. At the same
time, I can understand where he’s coming from.

Why
did
Ezra let me
come? What can possibly be gained from me being here?

“If I ask you a question,
will you answer me honestly?”

A look of uncertainty
flashes across his face, but eventually he nods his head in agreement. “Shoot.”

I bite my lip. “Do you
think . . .” I mutter, my voice trembling. “Do you think PHOENIX would hand me
over if the State gave you an offer that was too good to refuse?”

He leans back, his eyes
widening. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I breathe.
“Something that would end all of this. Something that would allow you to come
out of hiding.”

He turns away from me and
rubs his chin. The hairs across my body stand on end, anticipating his answer
before he can even give it.

“As much as I’d love to
believe otherwise,” he murmurs, “considering how long this has been going on,
those higher up would probably be reluctant to refuse. Even if it meant they
were playing right into the State’s hands.”

My heart sinks. These were
the exact words I was afraid he’d say, and sure enough, he’s said them.

“But Ezra would never allow
it,” he says. “It’s not in his nature. He wouldn’t give up a single life to the
State, even if it
were
for the benefit of the cause. Besides, you’re an
innocent. You don’t deserve what they did to you.”

“But you don’t know what
they did to me,” I whisper.

“You’re right. I can’t even
begin to imagine what happened to you in there. That’s how I know it was bad.”

I gape at him, genuinely
surprised by his words. It makes me realize that, despite how he usually acts,
there’s a side to Jenner that seems to understand certain things more than
anyone else ever possibly could. It’s as if he’s able to see people not only
for what they are, but for the experiences that made them that way.

Ezra’s voice booms through
the tunnel, shadowing over all of us and grabbing our attention.

“On your feet. We’re moving
out.”

Jenner stands before
turning and offering me his hand. I take it, dodging his eyes as he helps me to
my feet. I bend down to retrieve my pack, but he’s there before I can even
move. He straightens up, grinning as he hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

We both turn at the same
time in response to the sound of footsteps heading toward us. My heart reacts
erratically when I see Ezra. He seems somewhat annoyed, although I’m not sure
why.

“Head up the group with
Rai.” His words are directed at Jenner, who oddly enough, seems to be the
source of his annoyance.

“Sure thing,” Jenner says,
clearly oblivious. He smiles at me once again before walking away.

I shift my weight from foot
to foot as we stand in silence. It’s awkward, but I don’t know what to say.
Avoiding eye contact with him, I focus instead on adjusting my pack.

“Here, let me help you,” he
says when he sees my hands fumbling with the straps.

I allow him to take it from
me and try my best to remain calm while he fastens it around my back. The
proximity between us is minimal to the point where I can feel the heat from his
body against mine.

Once again, all I can think
about is that dream. I remember the way he looked at me. I remember the way he
spoke to me.

I remember the way he
kissed me.

“There,” he murmurs.

The sound startles me out
of my thoughts.

“Now you can access it more
easily, and it won’t come loose if we need to make a quick escape.”

Our faces are mere inches
apart when he says this, and his fingers make the final adjustments on the
straps. I can’t help but look up at him, my eyes drawn to his lips. The memory
of their touch overwhelms me until it feels as if I can barely breathe.

I glance away before he has
the chance to notice, thankful that the darkness of the tunnel will hide the
redness in my cheeks. Ezra pulls away from me and turns to fall into line
behind the others. A huge gust of air expels from my lungs, leaving me
flustered, and above all, confused.

I stare after him, only
following once I’ve taken a few breaths to compose myself.

Our trek continues in the
same silence as before but with an added level of tension. It’s as if there’s
something hanging in the air between us—unexpressed words that he refuses to
say. I consider asking but quickly think better of it.

My thoughts become clouded
as I fall into a daze, lulled by the repetitive sound of our footsteps. I only
snap out of it when Ezra grips my arm.

“Wait,” he breathes
suddenly.

We both stop walking, and
my eyes dart between him and the retreating figures disappearing down the
tunnel. My heart pounds like a hammer against my ribcage.

When the others are out of
earshot, he finally breaks the almost intolerable silence.

“I get it, you know. After
everything you’ve been through . . . after the way I treated you . . . why the
hell should you trust me?” He looks down at me as he lets out a tired sigh. “I
don’t know what I can do to make you believe me when I say that we’re on your
side.
I’m
on your side.”

My lips part and slowly, I
begin to shake my head.

“Trust has nothing to do
with it,” I whisper.

“Then what?” he asks.

The way he speaks has an
almost desperate tone to it, making me realize that what I suspected must
actually be true. He’s trying to make up for the way he acted toward me before.

“I just don’t understand
why. Or I guess it would be more accurate to say
what
.”

He cocks one of his
eyebrows. “What . . . ?”

“What made you change your
mind?” I clarify.

At first, he doesn’t answer
me. It’s as if he’s choosing his words wisely. Either that or he genuinely
doesn’t have a solid response to my question.

“Would it be ironic of me
to say that it’s complicated?” he asks.

He grins apologetically,
and I find myself biting back a laugh when I hear those words—especially coming
from him. Not that long ago, he responded with anger when I offered him that
same explanation. Now, here we are, the roles reversed.

The tension between us
seems to instantly dissipate. Yet, I can still sense something waiting to be
said. I look up at him expectantly, coaxing him to continue.

He rubs his hand across the
back of his neck. “You know how I was telling you about my mother?” he
whispers.

I nod, feeling suddenly
apprehensive.

“A lot of my anger about
the situation stems from the fact that there was a time when I thought she was
crazy, too. She would say the same thing to me, over and over. Always the same
thing.
‘One green, one blue. Winter. Look for winter.’
” He clears his
throat and shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of a bad memory.

I watch him carefully,
eagerly anticipating his next words.

“I had no idea what she was
talking about. I thought maybe it was a warning, but when nothing happened, I
stopped taking notice of it. By that point, she was locked away, and after a
while, I just forgot about it.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment and lets
out a heavy sigh before continuing.

“But then
you
came
along,” he whispers. “At first, I didn’t trust you for obvious reasons. But
then you told us your name . . . and I noticed your eyes. One green,” he
murmurs, pointing at my left eye. “One blue,” he continues, pointing at the
other. “That’s when I realized what she had actually been saying.”

My heart begins to race.
Faster.

Faster.

“Wynter, she had said. Look
for
Wynter
.”

“She saw
me
?” I
gasp. The air catches in my lungs, trapped by an inexplicable feeling of shock.

“I reacted badly toward you
when, in reality, I was angry with myself,” he confesses. “My mother was never
crazy. I knew that, and I deeply regret ever allowing myself to think it.
Meeting you made that very guilt resurface because I had the proof of her
sanity right in front of me. Trouble was . . . I still had no idea whether what
she said was intended as a warning.”

My stomach seems to cave in
on itself as I begin to wonder where this conversation is heading. “And now you
think it wasn’t?” I breathe.

He lowers his eyes, for
some reason refusing to look at me. When he finally glances up again, I’m
bewildered by the presence of a smile on his lips.

“I don’t think she ever
meant it that way. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think—” He breaks off,
reconsidering his words. “No, I
know . . .
”

He lifts his hand. My eyes
widen when he brushes his fingers across my cheek. The nerve endings in my body
come alive, causing me to feel more emotions than I can even make sense of. A
shudder runs up my spine, and the thrill of his touch is just like the memory
of my dream.

I don’t understand what
he’s telling me.

I don’t understand . . .

I stare at him. Confused,
anxious, and above all, afraid. His eyes bore into mine as he brings his face
unbearably close, his next words nothing more than a mere whisper in my ear.

“She wanted me to protect
you.”

“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS it?” Ezra asks.

“It’s as close as we’re
going to get,” Rai answers.

We all look up at the hatch
door. It hangs above us like an ominous weight that could come crashing down at
any moment. I can sense the danger on the other side. It’s beckoning to us, a
dark temptress luring us in with a single intention. The pull of it is
powerful, and yet, it’s overshadowed by my frantic nerves begging me to turn
and run.

This is it,
I realize.
This is the
end of the line.

Ezra lifts his hand,
signaling to Jenner and the other three men.

“Give me a hand,” he says,
coaxing them forward.

Once again, I stand back
with Rai, watching as they work together to hoist Ezra up to the door. I can
see his jaw tensing as he grips the rim of the wheel. The others brace
themselves beneath him, supporting his body.

A low grunt escapes his
lips, and I notice a faint sheen of sweat beading across his forehead. Inch by
inch, the wheel begins to move, and a shudder runs along my skin when the door
bangs open. The sound of clashing metal pierces through the silence, the noise
alarmingly loud in the night. I jump back, startled and suddenly afraid.

What if someone heard?

What if we don’t even make
it beyond this tunnel?

A feeling of anxiety creeps
over me as Ezra hauls himself up through the open hole. I wait with bated
breath for him to reappear, worried that Enforcers might already be here and
are now waiting to capture the rest of us as well. Thankfully, within seconds,
I see the glow from our flashlights reflect off his face. He holds out his arm,
reaching down to help the next person up.

Jenner goes first, followed
by two of the other men, and then Rai. When it’s my turn, I grip Ezra’s hand
firmly, and our eyes meet for the brief moment it takes for him to pull me
through the door. Duke follows last. Once we’re all out, Ezra closes the hatch,
lowering it back into place as quietly as possible.

A bitter breeze nips at the
back of my neck. Now that we’re outside, I’m aware of the drastic difference in
temperature compared to the tunnels. A shiver courses through my body as I
glance around what appears to be an empty courtyard. It’s pitch black—not a
light in sight.

“Where are we?” I whisper
to Rai.

“We’re in Zone 1,” she
murmurs back. “Outside the city magistrate’s building. This is where Wren
Bilken’s main office is located.”

My eyes scan the length of
the courtyard. I can just barely make out the shape of the structure before us,
although I can sense its enormity in the way it seems to black out the sky.
Still, I wonder if my vision will ever adjust to this impregnable darkness, and
I can’t ignore the feeling that something doesn’t seem right. It’s as if the
shadows are somehow tangible. As if someone’s hiding within them, waiting for
our next move.

I get the sudden feeling
that we’re being watched. “Is this really where he wants us to meet him?” I
ask.

Rai grins at me. “I know.
Pretty conspicuous, huh? But I guess it’s also the last place the State would
expect us to go.”

“If it isn’t a trap,” I
mutter under my breath.

Now that I think about it,
she might have a point. The State wouldn’t expect us to come here, right? But
then again, they might if we had reason to.

A reason like the promise
of a potential ally.

I groan, my thoughts going
in circles as I try to figure out the likelihood that this will turn out
exactly the way we hope. Maybe I’m just a pessimist. Or maybe PHOENIX has been
exiled for so long that they’ve forgotten what the State is capable of.

Out of the corner of my
eye, I notice Ezra walking toward us. I can only just make out his face in the
blackness, and his gaze burns with a sense of urgency as he looks at Rai.

“In the transmission,
Bilken mentioned a door on the northwest side that’ll open at exactly 12:47.”

Rai looks down at the small
device in her hand. It glows for a short moment before she shuts it back off.

“Well, we better get a move
on then,” she says. “We only have eight minutes.”

Our footsteps reflect off
the stone-layered ground, and the sound seems deafening in the surrounding
stillness. I stay close to the others, following Ezra and Rai, who seem to have
a solid idea where we’re going.

The building is massive, and
I find myself doubting whether we’ll be able to locate the door in the little
time we have left. We must pass at least a dozen entrances, but we don’t stop
at a single one. Rai occasionally checks the device in her hand, immediately
turning it off when she’s finished. I assume she’s monitoring the direction
we’re heading in. Northwest, Bilken had said.

We make it with less than a
minute to spare. However, the seconds spent waiting for it to open are
agonizing. We all stare at the small, somewhat camouflaged door in silence,
none of us daring to speak even a single word.

I can see the uncertainty
on everyone’s faces as plainly as I can feel it. It’s enough to make me wonder
. . . if there was time to go back, would they?

At exactly 12:47, the lock
to the door clicks open. The sound echoes with a slight ringing, causing all of
the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I watch Ezra and Rai as they
exchange nervous looks, and I realize they’re preparing themselves for what
could possibly lie ahead of us.

My heart clenches at the
thought. Not because I’m afraid for myself. I’m afraid for
them
.

I feel overwhelmed by the
harsh reality that there will be nothing I can do to save them if we run into
trouble. My fingers tremble against the gun protruding from my belt. Even
though it’s there—even though I have this defense—it only makes me feel worse.

Jenner, seeming to sense my
unease, rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and he smiles
back at me.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes.
“It’ll all be fine.”

For this brief moment, I
allow myself to believe him.

Ezra nods his head as he
unholsters his weapon. With a cautious push, he opens the door, glancing around
the corner before nodding once again to signal it’s safe to file inside. We all
follow him, guns at the ready.

I do what the others do.
When they press up against a wall to remain out of sight, I do the same.

My chest expands and
contracts as my breaths grow increasingly unstable. I look at everyone else in
turn, waiting for our next move until I notice Rai crouched in a corner by the
door. Her face is lit up by the glowing screen of a portable computer. Her
fingers almost seem to dance across the keyboard, and her expression is drawn
and focused.

Trying my best to keep my
movements to a minimum, I slink along the wall until I’m standing beside her.
Dropping to the floor, I pause for a few seconds before leaning forward to
catch a glimpse of what she’s doing.

I’m looking at what I think
is a map of the building. Red dots blink from multiple locations across the
screen, separated by a number of thin green lines. The lights begin to vanish
almost as soon as I lay eyes on them.

“Cameras are out,” Rai
announces to the group.

The others all relax in
response to her words, no longer bothering to stay close to the walls. My eyes
widen in amazement as she stores the computer back inside her pack.

It occurs to me that Rai
must be a hacker. I remember hearing about them in news alerts, but I never
really understood what they were capable of until now. It explains why she’s
the one always leading when it comes to relying on any form of technology. That
must also be how PHOENIX remains undetected. Wherever they go or wherever
they’re heading, they simply hack into the system and shut down the State’s
cameras.

It’s so simple, yet
brilliant. However, it still doesn’t answer a particular question I’ve wondered
about for some time now.

“How have you managed to
stay under the radar for so long?” I ask her. “Can’t the State still track
you?”

She meets my gaze, and I jerk
my head toward her untouched wrist, then to my own where the bandages hide the
jagged incision beneath them. Regardless of whether or not they can manipulate
the State’s systems, our oppressors can always rely on the tracking chips
implanted within us at birth when all else fails.

“When PHOENIX first
started, they used to cut them out,” she explains. “But a lot of people died
from either blood loss or infection. Weapons are one thing, but it isn’t nearly
so easy to get our hands on medicine.”

When I was in school, I
remember being told that the previous regime allowed free use of
drugs—medicinal and otherwise. It led to a massive downward spiral of
productivity and caused a large portion of the population to become dependent
and lazy. When the State came to power, they chose to keep our health under
lock and key. Even something as simple as a headache can only be treated by
going to a health center. No exceptions.

With PHOENIX, it never
occurred to me to wonder how they get their supplies. They don’t seem to lack
when it comes to food or weapons, and my imagination isn’t vivid enough to
attempt a guess at how they manage it. I suppose I always figured they rely on
benefactors or violence.

Rai’s voice drones on in my
ears, snapping me out of my thoughts. I blink a few times, glancing back up at
her.

“When I first joined up, we
were always on the move,” she continues. “We couldn’t stay in one place too
long out of fear that the Enforcers might come down on top of us. But the whole
time, we kept working toward a way of disabling the chips until we successfully
invented a scanner which can fry the tracking mechanism within them.” She lifts
her wrist and waves it around for me to see. “It’s just a useless piece of
metal now,” she says through a smile.

I never would’ve thought
such a thing was even possible and I find myself feeling a newfound awe toward
her. It’s almost terrifying to think what she could have accomplished for the
State if she hadn’t chosen to abandon it all those years ago.

Before I can ask her any
more questions, she slings her pack over her shoulder and rises to her feet. I
stand alongside her, following her gaze to see Ezra gesturing for us all to
gather.

We huddle in a tight group,
awaiting our orders. He points, one at a time, to the three men who came with
us.

“You three take the first
floor,” he says. “Rai and Jenner will go up with me to the second. Make sure
your communicators are active and call if you find
anything
.”

I stand off to the side,
watching as the group separates. Duke leads the other two away from us at once,
guns drawn and ready to be used if necessary. Rai and Jenner congregate by the
door, mumbling to each other about the nearest staircase. After deliberating
for a moment, they proceed down the hall.

I’m about to follow them when
I feel a hand grab my arm and give it a gentle pull back. I glance up to see
Ezra staring down at me.

“Stay close to me,” he
whispers. “And stay behind me. Remember, no matter what, I won’t let anything
happen to you.”

My stomach twists when I
hear those words. I try to speak, but my voice fails me.

It takes less than five
minutes to find the nearest stairs, and once we reach the top, more extensive
corridors stand before us. The layout is strange, so different from the other
stately buildings I’ve been in. Whereas most other constructions are comprised
of metal and glass, this one seems to consist predominately of wood. It’s a
material not often seen anymore, although I’m not sure why. Maybe because metal
and glass are proven to last longer, or maybe because the State doesn’t like
any reminders of the old world.

“Yo, Ez,” Jenner says after
another ten minutes of walking. “Did this Bilken guy say where he wanted to
meet us exactly?”

“No. All he said was to
meet him here and that the door downstairs would open at 12:47. I imagine,
though, that if we find his office, we find him.”