The Warrior

  Charlie tells me she’s been afraid for a long time. But that now she understands what we’re facing, and she’s accepted it. I am far from that place. I could never accept the thought of Charlie being physically hurt.

  I shake my head and finish getting ready, and when Kraven knocks on my door a moment later, I’m ready. My sweet girl grabs hold of my middle and pins me in place. She understands what’s happening, agrees with why I need to go, but that doesn’t means she’s happy about it. I myself can’t believe I’m doing this. With collectors popping up through the floor and sirens falling from the ceiling and a traitor walking among us, it doesn’t seem like a good time to leave. But Kraven assures me he’s going to question every single person in the hive to try and find the traitor while I’m away. And I don’t think Lincoln will believe anyone else. Without his help, we won’t be ready for war. So, what choice do I have?

  “Kraven says there’s still almost a full week before the war. And I’ll be back tonight.” I kiss her. My arms link around her waist and I pull her against me and I drink her in. I wish I could swallow her down and keep her inside of me. This isn’t a healthy thought, I know that. But I don’t want healthy. I want this. I want to want this girl more than breath and more than my own bloody, beating heart.

  She breaks our kiss and bows her head. “I’ll see you soon.”

  We don’t say I love you. It seems like if we do, we’re admitting something bad may happen while I’m gone. I kiss her forehead once more. Then I follow Kraven out the door. My mind stays with Charlie, though. Always.

  Once we have Max and Paine in tow, Kraven leads the three of us to the great room. Though the sirens’ bodies have been removed, but their blood still stains the floor. Kraven marches over the darker parts in the wood and peels up the loose floorboards that I discovered weeks ago when I was hunting for the scroll. At first I found a fugazi scroll, and then I found the real one.

  Kraven begins to explain about the secret room.

  “Can it, Cyborg,” I say. “I already know about your masturbation den.”

  Kraven closes his eyes but doesn’t react. Max, Paine, and I step down into the room, and I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for already knowing about this part of the house until Kraven uncovers a second doorway.

  “What the hizzle is that?” I say.

  This time, Kraven does grin. “When people discover a hidden room, they usually don’t think to look for another one beyond the first.”

  Point taken.

  “So, we’re going even lower?” This room, though it feels like it’s basement level, is actually on the first floor. “Is this just another route to Oswald’s pad?”

  Kraven moves some crates that weren’t there before and sweeps away dirt. Then he lifts a hatch in the floor and hands us a flashlight. “This tunnel descends beneath the basement. In one direction, it leads to the ocean, in the other, a waiting car.”

  “Yeah, ’cause that seems natural,” Max says.

  I’m so happy to hear Max make a joke that I slap him on the shoulder and laugh harder than needed. “So you want us to go in the direction of the ocean, am I right?” I say to Kraven.

  Kraven sighs. “You’ll go west for three miles and there will be a car waiting for you.”

  Paine lowers himself into the dim tunnel first. “So, head toward the ocean. Check.”

  “Man, I can’t wait to see the ocean,” Max adds.

  Kraven covers his eyes with his hand like he can’t handle us. “Do not go toward the ocean. The sirens are there and—”

  I bump Kraven with my shoulder. “Relax, holmes. They’re messing with you. We’ll be back tonight with Lincoln in tow.”

  Kraven’s brows pinch together. “You really think this man can help?”

  Man?

  “Yeah, this man can totally help,” I say.

  “Why did you just do that?” Kraven asks.

  “Do what?”

  “Say man that way?”

  “All right, see ya later!” I take the flash light from Kraven’s hand and dive into the tunnel.

  “Dante!” he yells.

  But Max, Paine, and I are already moving west through the tunnel at a quick pace. As we walk in silence, our jokes forgotten, I wonder how long ago this tunnel was built and if the roof ever caves in. I’m not claustrophobic or anything. Nail me in a pine box, and I’ll just ask for a fattie so I can take a nap.

  Still, I don’t want to run into any unforeseen obstacles.

  The flashlight skips along the ground as we march. The dirt is wet beneath our heels. The air is muggy and I can taste salt in the air. It’s dark in the tunnel and the walls are packed with black clay. I run my hand along one wall and my fingers come away slick with moisture.

  “It’s like we’re walking down a vagina,” Max says.

  I shine the flashlight at his face, and he’s grinning like a kid who just got his first handie.

  Paine’s giggling so hard I think he’s going to wet himself, and I’m laughing, too. It’s good to have Max in good spirits.

  Even if he is faking it.

  23

  Fanny Pack Fantasy

  True to Kraven’s word, as soon as we climb up a steel ladder at the end of the tunnel, a navy blue car is waiting. A guy who doesn’t speak a word opens the door for us and we climb in. And for the next sixty miles the three of us glance at one another, red in the face from trying not to laugh. Because the driver, he may be quiet. And serious. And perhaps someone important.

  But sure as shit, that dude is rocking a mullet.

  We pay the guy with some cash from the envelope Kraven gave us, and then die laughing all the way to the tarmac. Because the mullet was funny, but now that we’ve gotten each other started, we can’t stop.

  Inside an airport gift shop, Max bought a rubber strap for his sunglasses, the kind old geezers wear at waterparks. My best friend looks like a complete douche.

  And Paine, that dude… That dude is now wearing a fuchsia fanny pack. And he’s sporting that thing without cracking a smile. The fact that he’s wearing it without laughing is making Max and me roll even harder. Every once in a while he taps someone on the shoulder and asks them what they think in his British accent, says his Nana got it for him and do they think the color clashes with his shirt?

  On the plane, when we’re in the air, Max dares us to do random crap. I’m challenged to spring up and run toward the bathroom holding my crotch. Easy enough. Paine, however, has to ask the stewardess why the plane is so hood rat.

  “Excuse me?” the stewardess says.

  Paine adjusts his fanny pack so he can really get into character. “I said, ‘Why is this plane so hood rat?’”

  Her face scrunches. “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

  “Hood rat,” is all Paine says.

  “I’m afraid I don’t—”

  “Hood rat.”

  “Please stop.”

  “Hooooooood. Rat.”

  She walks away.

  Paine looks at Max. “What the hell is hood rat?”

  Max shrugs. “I have no idea. My uncle used to say it.”

  “Your uncle is an idiot.”

  Max nods. “That he was, my friend.”

  A few minutes later, Paine is drooling on my shoulder and Max is asleep against the window. Idiots. My chest aches from happiness. Max has always been my boy, but with Paine here, it’s like we’re a group of friends. I image that maybe Blue would want to hang with us, too. Is it too much to hope for? That the four of us could be a crew of sorts?

  Initially, I was afraid Max might not like Paine. That maybe he would be threatened by Paine’s interest in being my friend. But the opposite happened. Perhaps Max has always wanted another friend, too. The thought triggers a strange stab of jealousy. Maybe I want more dudes to roll with, but I don’t want Max to want that. Call me selfish. Call me incredible. You’d be speaking the truth on both accounts.

  My mind drifts back to the Hive. I’m curious as to w
hat Charlie is doing. Is she still sleeping? No. Kraven will have her up and working with Oswald. That guy’s got a personal vendetta against REM.

  I think about Neco, too, and whether Kraven heeded my warning to keep him away from Charlie. There’s no way to prove that Neco is the traitor, but I can’t get what he said that day in training out of my head. And let’s not forget about his sudden appearance in the library when I was almost made into a human S’more.

  Max shifts beside me and his bottom lip falls open. He snort-snores, which is awesome. I’m relieved that Kraven sent Max with me on this day trip. We needed to get out of the Hive, and Max seems to be doing better with his mind off Red. I think about telling him about Neco while Paine is sleeping, but reason against it. For once, I decide to keep this thing I know between me, Kraven, Charlie, and Oswald.

  As Max’s small snort-snore morphs into full blown ripping and tearing, I recall the newest line Oswald found on the scroll. I haven’t had much time to dwell on the discovery. But ever since he told me about it, hot coals have burned in the pit of my stomach.

  Two hearts that beat as one will make a great sacrifice.

  A great sacrifice implies a melody of terrible things, which is bad enough. But it’s the two hearts that beat as one that really gets me. Because I can’t help thinking, no matter how much I try and convince myself otherwise, that the scroll is talking about Charlie and me.

  …

  When the plane touches down, I’m startled awake. Paine’s head pops up from my shoulder and Max is wiping the corner of his mouth. All in all, we come off as anything but manly.

  Max glances at me. “I was dreaming about you.”

  I shake my head.

  “I was dreaming about you,” Paine says to Max.

  A deep line forms between Max’s eyes like he’s thinking. “Come to think of it, I was dreaming about you, too.”

  Paine stretches his hand across me and Max takes it. They give each other googly eyes without breaking a smile.

  “Cut it out,” I say.

  “Your fanny pack caressed me in the most amazing way,” Max tells Paine.

  “I tied you up with your sunglasses strap,” he replies.

  “All right,” I say, standing up. Max and Paine laugh like they are, without a doubt, the funniest human beings alive. It’s amazing to me that these two can make jokes like this, but ask them to hug longer than three seconds and they’d sooner shank each other.

  The three of us disembark and get our bags. Then we hop in the first cab we see and head for Lincoln’s place. I’m not certain I know where it is, but I do remember the general area. After that, it’s all about trial and error. Gazing out the window—taking in the snow-covered ground and the blue mountains—I can’t help thinking of Aspen. Ever since we landed, I’ve had trouble breathing. It’s like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest and the only thing that’d remove it is seeing her.

  I think about the party she took me to, how she danced on the table like no one else existed. I think about her gloved hands and the shame she hides on her palms where her father burned her. And I think about her sister, Sahara. How she must wonder where her Aspen went.

  I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  “You thinking about that chick?” Paine asks.

  My eyes stay on the landscape zipping by.

  “Sorry, dude,” he adds. “We’ll get her back.”

  “I left her there.” I don’t know why I say this out loud. The moment I do, I wish I could swallow the words back down.

  Max doesn’t respond. Neither does Paine. We guys are good for a laugh. We’re good for a joke or an honest question.

  But we’re not the best at dealing with real emotions.

  I miss Charlie already. The look on Max’s face says he misses his girl, too. And even Paine seems as if he’s somewhere else, with someone else. For a moment, I forget about Aspen and study Paine. He’s a good guy. And he really likes Annabelle. Maybe I should root for him to end up with her. He’d be kind to Annabelle. Maybe fall in love with her.

  But something tells me Anna’s heart belongs to Kraven, even if the liberator does keep her at arm’s length.

  Eventually, we pass a ten-story glass building and I experience a sense of déjà vu. “There,” I tell the cabbie, and he pulls over. I pay the dude from my envelope stuffed with cash. The cab driver stares down at it like he’s certain I earned it from selling heroine to infants with a hankering.

  “Don’t tell anyone you saw us,” I add, just to see his face.

  24

  Cobra

  Max, Paine, and I take the elevator to the ninth floor. It’s one of the few things I remember. Tenth floor is for the corporate assholes, Aspen had said. The floor is the only thing I remember though, so after we turn left out of the elevator, we begin knocking on random doors in the area I feel is right. Surprisingly, no one opens up for three random guys they’ve never met before pounding on their door.

  “Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” Paine says.

  Max raises his voice into a high pitch. “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.”

  They laugh, but I have no idea what they’re talking about.

  “Seriously, Dante?” Max says.

  I shrug.

  “It was a nursery rhyme,” Paine states.

  “Let’s just find this guy, all right?” Max and Paine drop it, and I do my best not to remember the mother I loved; the one who didn’t read me nursery rhymes or hide Easter eggs in the grass. Doesn’t mean she didn’t care about me, I tell myself. She just wasn’t that good at loving.

  A door cracks open and then slams shut again. I glance at Max and Paine and then creep toward the sound. I push my mouth against the crack. “Lincoln?”

  Nothing.

  “Lincoln, it’s Dante.” I have no clue if this is his door or not. The number reads 917. That sounds right. Maybe. I wait for a minute but no one responds. “Let’s keep trying doors,” I tell the guys.

  But then as I’m walking away, I hear the same door open.

  “How do I know you’re not lying?” a voice says that is clearly Lincoln’s paranoid ass.

  I roll my eyes and stroll back over to the door. It slams shut right before I reach it. “Lincoln, open up.”

  “Back away so I can see if it’s you,” a muffled voice calls out.

  I do as he asks.

  “You could be someone who looks like Dante,” he says.

  Max groans. “Dude, no one looks like that Pretty Boy.”

  Lincoln hesitates. “Is Aspen with you?”

  “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

  The dude swears. “I knew it. I knew you took her. What did you do to her?”

  “Let us in and I’ll explain everything, I swear.” I speak gently, even though I’m seconds from kicking the door down. When Lincoln still doesn’t budge, I add, “If you really cared where Aspen was, three guys wouldn’t stop you from opening up.”

  The door flies open and a nine millimeter gun is shoved in my face. He comes at me fast and I fly backward until my back hits the wall. The barrel licks the bottom of my chin and tips my head back.

  “Oh, shiiit,” Paine says.

  “Real slow like, the three of you are going to step inside my apartment. If either of you makes a sudden movement, I’ll put a bullet in your throat. Not your chest. Not your leg. Your throat. Understand?”

  “We understand.” My heart taps a quick rhythm. The cuff around my ankle will keep me alive, bullet or no, but without the Quiet Ones here I’d be on my back for days recovering. Days that will leave Charlie, and Annabelle for that matter, without our protection.

  Paine and Max slide into the apartment and I follow them in. Lincoln shoves the gun between my shoulder blades and keeps it plugged there as I move. A blinding magnitude of white washes over me as I step inside: white walls, white furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows facing a city dressed in snow.

  “Sit,” Lincoln orders.

&n
bsp; We do.

  He sits across from us and rests the gun on his right thigh like a kitten. “Tell me where Aspen is.”

  I take a deep breath. If I tell him the truth, he’ll freak. He might shoot all three of us, but what choice do I have? So I tell him everything. I tell him what we are, what we believe Aspen is, about Trelvator. I tell him where Aspen is now. And I tell him about the impending war.

  Lincoln rises like a length of black ribbon and glides toward the windows. He gazes out.

  He reminds me of Charlie when he does this.

  But Lincoln isn’t Charlie. Not with his black hair and piercings and camo jacket he never removes. This guy is ballin’ like Donald Trump, but his appearance definitely doesn’t speak to that.

  He spins around, one eye narrowed, the other sharp as a crow’s beak. “I believe you.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  He nods.

  For good measure, because I can’t believe anyone is that easy, I tell him I’m going to show him something. “Don’t shoot, okay?”

  Lincoln points his gun at me.

  “Dude, I said don’t shoot.”

  “That’s what people say when they’re about to do something terrible.”

  “Just lower the gun, man.”

  He does, and when I’m confident he’s not going to fire off a round, I shadow out of existence. Then I reappear. I nod toward Max and Paine and they do the same. Now you see us, now you don’t. Ta-dah!

  Lincoln squats down and scratches his head with the tip of the gun. As his eyes are diverted, Max looks at me and shakes his head like, This guy is effing nuts and what are we doing here?

  “You guys just disappeared,” Lincoln deadpans.

  “That’s right,” I reply.

  “Am I crazy?”

  “As a fucking shithouse rat,” I say. “But you’re not imagining this.”

  Lincoln stands and walks into a kitchen area that opens to the living room. He grabs a cell phone and punches in a number. “Hey,” he says into the speaker. “Cobra to Chrome. Initiate Operation Jackrabbit. This is not a test.”

  Lincoln lowers his voice and loses the serious face. “I said it isn’t a test, didn’t I? Just call everyone.” He covers the speaker with his hand. “What airport are we flying to?”