Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 8

  An armoire sits next to the shelf in question. I move over to it and open one of its door as it sits ajar by two inches as though someone had tried to close it in a hurry, but it never latched. Empty, except for a thin layer of pale dust outlining where something had been stored there moments before we arrived. Stealing another glance at those in the room, I prepare to knock the free-standing cupboard over, but am stopped by an arbiter marching up to me to give me an update.

  “We have found nothing, ma’am,” she says.

  Perfect. I could not have planned this better, even if I had been given the time to do so. Hardening my facial features, and about to do something the second time today that will make me more like the person I loathe most, I grasp the armoire and chuck it to the side, its featherlight weight making it easy to do so, so that it smashes into the desk, breaking it and scattering the drawings everywhere, and they land on the soiled floor as ink bursts from a bottle and coats them. I take a step back, pleased that my antics helped conceal Luther’s transgression, but it will not stay that way for long, unless I get everyone out of here. I need to play my part and do it so well that it convinces those surrounding me to not question my orders or motives. I spot a carpenter square on the floor, probably deposited there when I destroyed the desk, and snatch it, swinging it as I rush over to where Luther remains pinned on the floor, and I shove one of its rusty ends under his rounded, yet bony, chin, forcing him to look up at me.

  “If I hear anything,” I say, my voice cold and devoid of emotion, sending chills down my own spine, “about you owning contraband or committing treason, anything at all that indicates that you’re guilty of helping your daughter violate our laws, there will be no trial for you, nor will you be sent to the Ministry of Justice. Only the crematoriums will be pleased that day. Understood?”

  Luther nods his head as best he can with the edge of the square digging into his throat while the drone circles us, capturing every moment of my threat.

  “This will be your only warning.” I drop the carpenter square, and it clangs on the floor as it lands, sending a hollow and ominous sound throughout the home, filling my stomach with dread, and turn toward Commander Vye. “We’re through here.”

  Without waiting to receive her approval, I leave, stepping through the door and stand at attention as I watch the other arbiters follow my example, and disappear down the alley, their black uniforms and skin concealing them from my view as the night blankets them with its darkness. Anan gives me a quick glare as he passes, but my scowl forces him to turn away, while Commander Vye is the last to leave. She nods in my direction and continues walking away, leaving me to take up the rear. My boots splash in water as I stroll through the alley and to the square, leaving me to believe that another short-lived shower had dumped rain while we were all inside performing our duty for Arel. Before I turn the corner, I pause, looking back at the doorway and the door that hangs at an odd angle on its hinges, swaying from the slightest breeze, trapped in a cage of conflicting emotions at war with one another, causing a slight wave of nausea to wash over me. The man could have given me up; he could have told them about how I had warned him earlier today, but he didn’t, making this the second time he has saved my life and spared me from Arel’s wrath.

  The soft whine of the drone fills my ears, enveloping me in its annoyance as it hovers within arm’s reach as its camera focuses on me. Willing myself to move on and let go of these musings, I turn toward the drone, staring straight into its coin-sized camera, and if a single gaze could cause the destruction of an object, the drone would be a pile of ashes. Knowing that I cannot destroy it, I release that desire and walk away, turning the corner and following after my fellow arbiters, while the nagging feeling of having become Molers for the second time today gnaws at me.

  Chapter 5

  Discontent

  A yawn creeps up on me as I meander through the outer edges of the eastern sector, near the wall, shrouded in its ever-present shadow, unable to escape its barrier, or its constant reminder of our place in this world. Our presidents and council tell us that the wall is for our protection, and like any raised in Arel, I believed them, until now, until I had been assigned outside of it for a time and met two of the inhabitants in the world beyond. The barbarian during the hunt did not seem like a terrible man, though he could have been, for all I knew, but he had done me no harm, and had been captured by Commandant Paq for the sole purpose of being hunted down as though he were no more than a mere animal, meant to be the object of one man’s entertainment; nor did the one who had helped Chase and me while we dangled over the edge of a hill strike me as someone who meant us harm. I do not know their names, a fact that never bothered me until now, but as the memory of them floats through my mind, refusing to allow me to forget them, I realize that they must have names, just like me.

  A sliver of red appears on the upper arm of my uniform jacket, standing out amongst the black in stark contrast as though the rising sun is trying to tell me that the world is not all darkness, as its vibrant sliver of light expands, snaking down my arm, until it reaches my feet and spreads to the buildings beside me, stretching up the dilapidated structures as it envelops them in a mixture of warm color tones, forming its own rainbow of reds, oranges, and yellows, all blending together, all separate but one. I watch as the sun’s light stretches up the building next to me, filling the cracked and grime-ridden panes of glass with its golden glow, mesmerizing me as it reflects off the sides of the structures, filling the void between them and the wall, enveloping me in its warm comfort, turning my usual walnut-colored skin tone amber. Glancing at the towering stone edifice beside me, I marvel at how the wall, always dark, always impending, now exhibits a honey color, that of clover honey, as though it has been rebirthed.

  My mind drifts to Chase, alone, outside the wall among strangers, sentenced to a life of depravity, and my hope of seeing him again dissolves, replaced by determination. I will see him again, I tell myself in silence, not wanting to be overheard, and I will bring him back to Gwen, who still refuses to speak to me, not that I blame her.

  My wristband chirps, and at first, I assume that it is telling me that my shift is almost over, which would be a relief as night patrol is always the longest and most arduous shift to get through, but I stop cold in my tracks when I realize that it isn’t a reminder at all, but a summons: trouble brews and all available arbiters are needed. I sprint away from the wall, diving between two resident buildings, the corners of their foundation crumbling away, littering the uneven pavement with brick dust, and squeeze through the narrow space in an effort to reach the nearest information booth as fast as possible. I burst out the other end into a yellow beam of light, hurrying to the booth that lies just 50 yards away. Once I reach it, panting, I place my palm on the scanner allowing it to scan me, disregarding the information that appears on the screen as it flashes green, allowing me entrance into the tunnels below.

  A small sound escapes my lips as I land between the steel tracks below, just in front of a two-seater railcar, just like the one Renal and I had taken the first time I had been summoned to a riot, and my knees buckle, forcing me to outstretch my hands for support. Wincing from the force of the impact of my hands slamming into the semi smoothed-edged bumps of the concrete beneath me, I brush them on my pants and rush to the railcar, jumping into the first available seat and strap myself in. Another arbiter sits beside me. Startled, I glance in her direction, keeping my face impassive, while pretending that I knew she has been here the entire time. She straps herself in, her hands shaking a little as she buckles the harness, and I note the beads of sweat outlining her hairline as a few stray strands work themselves lose from her bun, framing her rectangular face. She does not look familiar, and I do not know her name. Perhaps she is from one of the other manors in the eastern sector. We share a look, each pretending not to be anxious before facing forward as the glass casing lowers, sealing up inside. The railcar jets ahead. Air bursts free from my lungs, squeezed out by t
he harness as it digs into my torso, leaving impressions in my skin, despite the clothing I wear, while my back presses into the seat, held there by the force of the railcar’s acceleration, and my nose flattens against my face, causing pressure to build up in my sinuses as though I have a sudden cold, giving me an instant headache in the center of my forehead.

  Red flashing lights streak past us, mingled with fluorescent bars built into the stone walls, rendering rectangular beams of opalescent white broken by jagged crimson rays, stretching from the front of the car to the back as we are hurled down the tunnel. My body shifts to the right, causing the harness securing me to creak a little as it holds me in place, digging into my arm and causing it to go numb for a second, while we bank to the left. Another curve shifts me to the right before the tracks straighten out, convincing me that my brain will pop out of my head as pressure builds within it and the beginnings of a second headache starts to form, causing a vein to pulsate on the side of my temple in tune with my breathing, skipping and changing each time the railcar encounters another curve and I am thrown from side to side. I glance at my fellow passenger, noting the reflection of the car zipping down the grey, mirrorlike walls, but she remains statuesque, her wide eyes focused on the rails ahead of us as we speed through the never-ending tunnel.

  An ear-piercing squeal reverberates around us, bouncing off the sanded and polished concrete walls of the tunnel, causing me to wince as my ears beg for relief, while sparks fly from the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. Once again, my harness creaks as it holds me in place as I am thrown forward, causing the straps to snap, my diaphragm begging for release as the belt cuts into it, wrenching the air from my lungs, before I am thrust backward and slam into the back of my seat with a force that radiates up my spine and swivels around my head. Before either of us have a chance to regain our breaths, the glass shield around us raises upward, allowing a rush of warm, metallic tasting air to rush inside as we break free of our cramped prison.

  My fingers fumble as they unhook my harness, and I climb out of the railcar, holding onto the sides for support as I step onto solid ground, my legs wobbling, refusing to support me, while my mind grapples with the fact that my body is no longer strapped in a moving vessel, but is stationary. Retching catches my attention, and I turn my head, eyeing my fellow arbiter as she hunches over, expelling the meager contents of her stomach, forcing me to turn away, and give her some privacy as another railcar appears, releasing its occupants, both of whom experience just as much difficulty standing up at first as I had. Once the gagging sounds stop, I step beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, not wanting to startle her as I do my best to will my stomach to be a block of iron, while the acrid stench of vomit attacks my nose, causing it to want to bounce.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper to her, leading her away from the railcar and the puddle of vomit and to the panels sliding open on a far wall, granting us access to body armor and weapons. “Just walk it off.”

  Once we reach the panels, she straightens up and thanks me as she reaches for a vest, and I do the same, yanking the thing off its hooks and strapping it around myself before snatching a semiautomatic weapon. My mind drifts back, for just a moment, to my first time being summoned to put down a riot, and I wish Renal was here with me, like he had been the last time, guiding me while calming my nerves with that encouraging smile of his. Forcing myself back into the present. I grab a helmet, noting how the cold lights above me turn the black, shiny surface a bright white, while my reflection casts an ominous shadow over it. The clicking of weapons being armed pulls me from my reverie, and I ram the helmet over my head, falling in line with the arbiters running up the stairs that have dropped down, beating them with our thunderous footsteps as we hike up to the world above and to what awaits us.

  Snakelike trails of smoke float around me, encircling me once I reach the street above and jump into the sunlight, faded by black clouds of burning embers that swirl above me, billowing in the wind as they stretch for the sky and thin out just enough to allow the yellow orb, turned red by the smoke, above us show its face. Fires rage around us as they consume piles of trash, built on purpose to form a perimeter of sorts, filling the atmosphere with their angry roar, a noise muffled, somewhat, by my helmet. I whirl around, weapon at the ready, searching for any sign of rioters, but there are none. As I tread through the street, surrounded by my fellow arbiters, the raging fires imprison us in their sweltering heat, causing sweat to stream down my face and get in my eyes, fogging up my visor, while an ominous feeling burrows within the pit of my stomach, forcing my heart to sink and my breathing quicken.

  Where is everybody?

  Boots creep across the pavement, crushing glass, pebbles, and bits of paper that have escaped their torment in the unforgiving flames. No sounds. No people. Nothing seems to be here. The arbiter next to me coughs as the smoke gets through her helmet,—they’re not meant to filter out contaminants like smoke or pollution—and I glance at her before turning back to the emptiness before me, surrounded by my fellow arbiters, all of us on edge, all of us wondering where the rioters are as the space around us grows darker from the ever-growing clouds of smoke hovering in the air, suffocating us. My foot brushes a metal plate, scooting it across the ground, revealing something drawn in red paint, now dulled and darkened by the ash settling over us. Bending low to take a closer look, my mind jumps back to the day of the explosions and the symbol drawn on the ground in front of the burning school: the crest of Arel, crossed out like before. I bolt upright, spinning around on my feet, searching for any threat, convinced that we are not alone and that this entire incident is by design. Before I can voice my suspicions, a grenade plops on the ground, several yards away from me, clacking as it skids to a halt before it ceases its movement, looking like a small ball waiting to be picked up.

  “Get down!” someone yells just as I jump back, grabbing the nearest arbiter and throwing us both to the ground; but before we land, the grenade explodes, creating a force that slams into my side, throwing me and the arbiter I had grabbed onto into the air. My mind whirls in confusion as my body appears to fly before it crashes into the ground. Coughing, I lay on my stomach a moment, gasping for air as my head buzzes from the noise and refuses to focus. As the madness continues, I force myself to my hands and knees as time slows around me, drowning the cries and shouts of those surrounding me as people burst from behind the burning piles of trash and attack any arbiter they see. I try to stand, but my legs refuse to support me at first, causing me to drop to the ground again as I shake my head, attempting to clear it.

  A muffled yell pierces my ears, snapping me to attention. I turn just in time to see a man with a plank heading straight for me, his eyes filled with murderous intent as he takes aim with me in his sights. Still on my knees, I rear up, seizing the plank and twisting it from his grip, forcing him to lose his balance and tumble to the ground. As he lays there, regaining his senses, I raise the plank and swing it at him, striking him in the head, and the sound of his skull cracking reaches my ears, telling me that he is no longer a threat.

  My weapon.

  Scrambling, I search the blackened debris, my gloved hands swiping the pavement in a desperate attempt to find anything I can use to defend myself. I see it. My weapon lies just out of reach. I dive for it, crawling across the soot-covered ground, and wrap my fingers around it just as something wraps around my throat, digging into my airway, causing me to choke and to drop my weapon. Unable to breathe, my first impulse is to reach up and grip the rope around my throat, but I stop, remembering what an instructor at the training facility had said once: if you reach for what’s around your neck, you can’t fight back, and your attacker knows were your hands are. My eyes bulge as the line around my neck tightens and the corner of my vision blackens from lack of oxygen. I jerk to the side, throwing my attacker off-balance a little, and as he recovers, I lunge for my weapon, seize it, and ram the barrel over my head, guessing the position of my opponent. The barrel mee
ts resistance and the rope slackens. Seizing my chance, I twist around, flinging myself onto my back and jerking the rope out of my opponent’s hands, while raising my weapon and pulling the trigger. A shot rings out, euphoric music to my ears, and hits the man in the chest, and before he collapses to the ground, I spring to my feet.

  Another psychotic scream fills the air, and I duck just as a woman with a crazed look in her eyes charges me, forcing her to fly over my back and crash into the ground, sending bits of ash into the air. Without a second thought, without any mercy, I aim my weapon at her head and fire, not caring that bits of her brain mixed with warm, crimson blood splatters my pants while the back of her head bursts open, allowing the contents within to mix with the soot on the pavement. Another rushes for me, and I raise my weapon like a staff, blocking the man’s attack and twist my weapon, forcing his out of his grip, before dropping to the ground and sweeping his feet out from under him. Surprised, he slams into the pavement and scrambles for a discarded rod, the chosen weapon of another dead rioter, but I pounce on him, seizing his arm and ramming my elbow into his face, stunning him, before swinging my elbow back a second time and plunging it into his neck. Gurgled choking escapes his lips as he struggles for air before going limp.

  A muffled roar reaches my ears as flames shooting out of a flamethrower dance in front of my helmet, engulfing any it comes into contact with, while its creator walks forward with slow, steady steps, ignoring the anguished screams of those burning alive. One humanoid inferno rushes for me, unaware of his actions as he tries to put out the fire burning his flesh. Reacting in the manner I had been trained, I point my weapon at him and fire, putting him out of his misery. He sprawls on the ground, rolling through the smoldering embers before stopping and breathing his last. Surrounded by a mixture of terrified screams and vengeful yells, my feet remain rooted to the ground, unsure of where to go or what to do next as I watch the chaos unfold around me with rebellious citizens and arbiters locked in conflict, each hoping to destroy the other. A flash of movement catches my eye. Turning, I spot a woman trying to sneak past me and reach for her, seizing her arm and twisting it behind her back as I kick the back of her knee and force her into a sitting position. She yells in pain and pleads with me to stop, but this is my duty: to put down rioters and she is…