Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (30 page)

Maria stepped forward into the clearing to join Franklin and Edgar.

“I see smoke,” Franklin said, wiping his sleeve across his forehead. His dark hair was slick with sweat and humidity. He’d removed his shirt. His muscles looked knotted between his bones.

They were getting weaker. She had seen it herself, her ribs showing through her sagging skin. Potatoes and the odd crab caught on the coast were not enough to sustain them since the destruction of their colony.

Those who weren’t killed by the tribes had agreed to integrate.

As slaves.

But Maria’s best friend, Elizabeth, had escaped, telling her tales of devil worship and satanic beasts. The rest of the colonists were taken away to Roanoke Island, across the sound.

Sometimes, at night, Maria heard screams and cries on the wind and couldn’t entirely rationalize them as coming from the local fauna or the tribespeople.

“This is madness,” Maria said. “No good can come of this. We should seek a place far from here, seek out a trader or privateer and get word back to England.”

“It’s far too late for that now,” Edgar said, his jowls wobbling. His fever was getting worse. Hair slicked against his face, which had taken on a grave pallor.

“Someone’s coming,” Franklin said, backing away.

Across the clearing the trees were swaying.

Footsteps and snapping branches came from all around them.

“The Croatoans,” Maria said. “They must have found Elizabeth’s body and tracked us here.”

Spinning around with panic, Maria realized they were trapped, entirely surrounded and no way out. This was it, then—the end of this infernal adventure. Despite her heart racing, a part of her welcomed this. It had been such a struggle for so long. White wasn’t returning. Raleigh had forsaken them.

Ahead of the clearing, the trees parted and four figures stepped out.

“The devils!” Maria screamed when she saw them.

They weren’t human. The figures walked upright but with satyr legs. Their faces were large and resembled turtles. They made strange clicking noises and were armed with weapons that only vaguely resembled dueling pistols, only much larger and carried with two arms.

Before Maria could run, a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind.

Franklin and Edgar too were caught, and no amount of screaming or thrashing could dissuade the beasts from dragging them away.

***

Maria wiped the tears from her eyes and sat back on the sofa. Denver moved to sit next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s not you, even if you have the memories.”

“They… did things to them. Once they were taken to Roanoke Island,” Maria said, gathering her composure. “The tribespeople known as the Croatoans were just simple Indians. They didn’t understand what was happening. They thought the aliens were gods.”

“At least we now know what happened to all those poor colonists,” Denver said. “My dad will want to know this.”

“Of course,” Maria said, “I want him to know all this. There were a dozen of us colonists strapped to their operating tables, their engineers prodding and testing us, pumping us full of drugs.”

Maria leaned into Denver, resting her face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. “I promise,” he said. “They’ll pay for everything they’ve done.”

“You can’t trust them,” Maria said. “No matter what they say or try to prove, they cannot be trusted. They’re evil, Den, truly.”

“Which is all the more reason I have to see this through.”

He had the bomb and he had his dad. Whatever plan Hagellan had in mind, they were two factors that would be beyond his reckoning.

Maria looked up at him. “Promise me you’ll come back. Somehow… just come back.”

He couldn’t mean it, as he didn’t believe he would be coming back, but he promised anyway, wanting to give her something to believe in. They sat there together in each other’s arms as they waited for Charlie’s return and the start of the end.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Aimee walked by Charlie’s side. She moved gracefully along the main dirt road through Unity, her green silk dress gently flapping in the cool breeze.

Two miserable-looking men guarded their flanks, carrying bolt-action rifles with wooden stocks.

The stalls lining the main route were a hive of activity, just like when he was first dragged through by his neck.

Aimee gently grabbed his arm and pulled him to the left. “We’re going to the arena. This way.”

She led him around the thick stone wall that surrounded and protected her residence, toward the concrete-constructed stadium.

A few people and croatoans stood around a stall outside, trading items for cooked meat. The faint buzz of a crowd noise drifted over.

Charlie frowned. “What the hell’s going on? I’m not interested in seeing your entertainment.” He had other things to worry about, like the ship’s preparation. All this was just getting in the way of the plans, but at least Mike was there handling things.

“You might be when you see who’s fighting.”

“And who might that be?”

“Your treacherous friend Gregor. He came to attack me and killed Baliska. He’s also the reason Augustus escaped.”

Charlie stopped.

Unity had its own strange laws and practices, but he wouldn’t be a party to them. As much as he hated Gregor, and still suspected him of killing Pippa, he did help bring down the mother and terraform ships and was one of only a few pre-apocalypse survivors left on the ground.

“Let me talk to him. I’ll tell him to leave and never return,” Charlie said, not quite believing that he was standing up for Gregor. “He deserves a chance.”

Aimee let out a deep breath. “How many chances does that man need? I have already given him one that he didn’t deserve, and look how he repaid me? He has fallen foul of our laws and will be judged in the arena.”

“Just do this favor for me, please?”

“You can’t stop it, Charlie. This is one of the most serious offences we have seen in Unity. People have been put to death for far less. What kind of message do you think I will be sending out if I give him clemency?”

She raised her dress a couple of inches and splashed through a shallow muddy puddle. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples.

The gangster’s actions had sealed his fate, and Charlie couldn’t risk his life and compromise the mission by trying anything heroically and pointlessly stupid. He sighed and resigned himself to the fact that this was the world he now lived in, but he wouldn’t be one of the bawling voyeurs on the arena steps.

He just wanted to get it over with and then help with the ship.

A guard jabbed his muzzle into Charlie’s shoulder. “This isn’t an invite you can refuse. Pass on what you see to the other new arrivals. Let them know the price of disloyalty.”

Aimee turned and gestured him forward. “It’s politics. The town will see that you and your friends are with me and not aligned to his actions.”

Charlie slammed his heel into the wall, shook his head, and followed Aimee toward the bloodthirsty congregation.

***

Gregor’s eyes fluttered open. Cold water dripped from his head, joining the dry specks of his own blood on the stone floor. A guard stood over him, holding a metal bucket. The bastard laughed and threw it into the corner of the cell.

He grabbed a clump of Gregor’s hair and ripped his head back. “Showtime in three minutes. Say your prayers, fuck-face.”

Gregor gathered the little saliva he had and spat. The guard grimaced and wiped his cheek. He leaned forward and swung his fist into Gregor’s ribs.

Inwardly, his whole body bloomed with pain. He sucked in a breath and coughed out spittle and blood. He refused to show signs of pain and smiled. “That the best you’ve got?”

Another guard entered and aimed a double-barreled shotgun at his face. The sound of a crowd cheering echoed along the corridor. He had seen the fighting area while being dragged to the cell.

They would not be entertained at his expense. He refused to go out on the terms of this shitty town.

Bucket guard unfastened his manacles and shoved him against the wall.

The other jerked his shotgun toward the arena. “You fuck around and I’ll blow your head off. This way.”

A sharp pain shot through Gregor’s right thigh as he tried to walk. He dropped to one knee, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. They would not get to see him like this.

He steadily rose, trying to push away the agony, and walked slowly toward the entrance of the fighting area, but couldn’t hide his limp.

Bucket guard followed. “Looks like he’s shit himself.”

The other laughed.

If Gregor got out of this alive, he would mash both of their faces with a jackhammer and have a great deal of pleasure doing it.

He reached the gate and clung to the bars. He didn’t have much energy left, and the effects of his last shot of root had evaporated a couple of hours ago.

One uniformed croatoan lay on the sandy surface outside. Another stood above it, holding a spear. Yellow blood dripped off the pointed head. It thrust the weapon down into its opponent’s chest, sending the crowd into a pleased rapture.

Two men appeared and carried the dead alien away. The winner looked up. Its cobalt blue visor glinted in the sun. The crowd fell silent, and a high-pitched voice addressed the alien before a guard led it away to a ripple of applause.

A broadsword and buckler landed at Gregor’s feet. He shook his head and looked outside.

Something sharp poked in his back. “Pick it up.”

Gregor looked to his side. “Fuck you.”

A boot slammed into his bad leg. He sank to the ground, hissed through his teeth, and clutched his thigh.

“I said, pick it up.”

Gregor grabbed the sword and spun. The blade sliced through the air and clanked against the stone wall to his side.

Both guards had retreated several yards. One aimed the shotgun at his face.

Bucket laughed. “You must think we were born yesterday?”

Gregor jabbed a finger at him. “When I get out of this, I promise you one thing—”

A bolt screeched along its latch. The gate behind him yawned open.

“You’re up next,” a croaky voice said. “Come out nice and slow and face Aimee.”

Gregor kept his focus on the two internal guards. Both needed to be taught a lesson.

Powerful hands grabbed both of his shoulders and dragged him back, threw him down on the filthy surface and dropped the sword next to him.

He scrambled to a crouch, shielded his eyes from the sun, and looked around.

Hundreds of people and aliens stood on steps above a wall surrounding the fighting surface. Watching him. Aimee sat on a high chair in a sectioned-off area. She casually wafted a fan in front of her face.

Charlie Jackson sat next to her. He looked away when Gregor attempted eye contact. Coward.

A squat man dressed in a brown jumpsuit rose from his chair. The crowd’s buzz of anticipation fell silent.

Gregor used the sword to haul himself up. He limped to below the sectioned-off area and pointed the tip of the blade at Aimee, then Charlie. “You’re next, bitch. Then you, Judas Jackson. I’ll cut your throat from ear to ear.”

The collective gasp that followed provided some small comfort. Aimee covered her face with the fan; Jackson continued to look away. Gregor considered throwing the sword at him. How could he sit there and watch him being butchered by an alien?

“People of Unity,” the squat man said, “for thirty years our town has been a beating heart of human and croatoan peace and friendship. We have become the shining beacon in this dark world.”

Gregor laughed as loudly as he could. Defiance welled up inside him. They would not dictate proceedings. “You idiots.”

The squat man turned to Aimee. She relaxed back in her chair and casually gestured for him to continue.

“This man wanted to kill our leader and destroy Unity. He does Augustus the traitor’s bidding. We will crush our foes to maintain our freedom.”

A quiet round of applause and clicks followed.

If they wanted a show, Gregor would give them one. He pointed his sword at Charlie. “Did I ever tell you how much I enjoyed strangling your beloved Pippa?”

Charlie’s head snapped around, and he focused on Gregor.

Gregor smiled. “That’s right. Now I’ve got your attention. I squeezed the life out of her with my bare hands and loved every minute of it. You should have seen her face.”

Jackson’s face contorted into a grimace, and he bolted up from his chair.

***

Charlie felt a surge of anger and balled his fists. Gregor confirmed what he’d suspected for nearly three decades. He’d killed Charlie’s ray of light, Pippa.

The woman who had nurtured him at Quatenary Productions all those years ago and survived with him during the early part of the invasion.

He’d found her dead in a cave, with marks around her neck, leaving him alone and heartbroken until he found Denver. Gregor’s gang had already hooked up with the aliens, although they didn’t tell Charlie back then. They’d pretended to be survivors until their farm had been constructed. Gregor had been the prime suspect. He’d constantly had his eye on Pippa.

Charlie swiped the fan away from Aimee’s face. Two guards stepped toward him and aimed at point-blank range. “Let me fight him to get both of us justice.”

“I’m not risking the mission. You stay here and watch. We’ve brought out a retired champion to deal with Gregor. He hasn’t got a chance.”

“No, he’s mine.” Charlie’s body trembled, and he took a couple of breaths. “Screw the mission.” The others would just have to wait a short while for him. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Before Aimee could respond, he leapt across to the edge of the viewing platform, slid down the rough wall to the fighting area, and briefly dangled to weigh up the size of the drop.

Two yards.

Charlie’s boots thudded against the dirt, and he turned to face Gregor.

“Guards, guards!” he heard Aimee shout.

Gregor limped toward him, using the sword as a walking stick. “We always knew it would come to this, Charlie. Get armed and let’s do it.”