Legion Lost (10 page)

The
journey to the northern woods is far shorter than the trek Reece and I had made
from the east, but at our careful snail’s pace, we still seem to have walked
for hours. Along the way, Apryl whispers stories to Lucrece at the back of the
line, and sometimes I catch a word or two echoing past my ears. They are fairy
stories, like the ones from the old, salvaged books I used to read in the
Underground. The familiar mentions of princes and noble quests calm my heart
just as much as they calm Lucrece’s vicelike grip.

Every
once in a while, Goddie stops for a long, tense moment to recalibrate his mine
scanner. For someone who was effectively trapped underground for sixteen-and-a-half
years, I can’t believe how enclosed I feel in the middle of the wasteland’s
vast expanse. Being forced to stay still, knowing that any step could be my end,
does not inspire my body to stay calm. Every time we stop, I can feel my muscles
trembling, the fear within me threatening to make me lose control.

“Raja,”
Stirling whispers in the pitch dark. “Don’t be scared, mate. You’ve got this.
Not much farther now.”

Just
once in the dark abyss, he reaches down and pats the back of my hand where it
clings shakily to his vest. In that moment of contact, a whole new series of
sensations run through my nerves. The sound of his whispering, foreign tongue
is more comforting than it ought to be, and the lightness of his touch jolts my
skin like a little electric shock. As if the threat of being blown to bits
isn’t bad enough, now a whole new sense of dread is building in my brain.

I
think I like him. I like him in a way that I’ve never really liked a boy
before, not with the extremely limited selection that the Underground had to
offer. I like the way he cares because I’m frightened, and I like the way he
approves when I say something brave. As much as I hate the Legion, an odd
little part of me is grateful to be out here in the dangerous dark because of
it.

There
is, of course, one glaringly obvious problem with me developing a weird crush
on Stirling right now, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter that I’m
pretending to be a boy in his presence. In a month’s time, Stirling will be
twenty, and there’s no chance of me ever willingly setting foot within the
System to find him again. I have to switch off any feelings that arise from his
comfort, or the sight of his ocean-deep eyes. I have sworn to find and save my
family, and Stirling is just one playing place in the greater game. He can’t
become important to me too, because I could never keep him and my family close
by at the same time.

“We
did it,” Goddie whispers with relief. “De woods are right ahead.”

“Stay
in line,” Stirling instructs sharply. “Do
not
break line until we’re
into the trees.”

We
do as we’re told, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when I
feel the texture of the ground changing beneath my feet. At the edge of the
woods, I lean against a tree trunk, reassured by its solidity and the earthy
smell that reminds me of home. The group has a few minutes to sit down and
collect themselves before Stirling calls us into a circle again. I hear a
fumbling sound in the darkness, and suddenly a beam of white torchlight shines
out from Stirling’s shoulder. He focuses the beam into the centre of our circle,
lighting all of our faces, but casting his own into shadow.

“You’ve
all got these lights,” he explains, for mine and Lucrece’s benefit. “The switch
is concealed in the inside of the vest, right above your heart.”

My
hand instantly begins to feel around for it.

“Don’t
put them on unless you need to,” Stirling adds quickly. “If there are rebels
about, you’ve no need to go attracting them.”

Lucrece
nods her head fervently at that. Stirling shifts so that his light finds my
face across the circle. I blink at the torch’s glare, trying to make out his expression
beyond it.

“Raja,
you and me are going to take the northeast,” he states. I give him a nod in
reply. “Goddie, Apryl, you take Lucrece to the northwest. Scout about a mile
out, then meet back here. Don’t stray too far, right?”

“No
danger of that,” Apryl scoffs. “We’ll be back here swiftly all right.”

Stirling’s
light disappears with a click. “Let’s be off then.”

Though
my eyes are still stinging from the torchlight, I can hear Stirling’s footsteps
ahead. I follow the sound until I feel his hand suddenly grabbing my wrist. He
pulls me close, his head tilted down against my ear.

“Now
listen,” he whispers. “I know you don’t like me, and you like being told what
to do even less, but please listen to me whilst we’re out here. You want to
learn how to survive, then consider this your first lesson. Stick close, and
keep your eyes peeled for any signs of life.”

He
thinks I don’t like him, and things are definitely better that way, but the
words still sink like stones in my gut. Once my eyes have adjusted to the
darkness again, I find that I’m able to distinguish between the different
shapes and shadows of the nearest trees. Under the canopy of the forest, it
looks as though the moon might have crept out to make the night a little less
frightening for me.

Stirling’s
tall shape moves ahead of me, his gaze sweeping back and forth among the trees.
According to Sheila, we are looking for anything that could indicate the
presence of rebels here within the last few days. She seems to think that they
might have set up cameras to monitor the area, but I see no such devices as we
press deeper into the woods. I’m starting to feel like a worm on the end of a
fishing hook. The distinct possibility that we are simply the bait to draw the
rebels out keeps flashing through my mind. If we fail to return to the Legion,
then Sheila will know for certain that something is lurking here among the
trees.

“Do
you feel like we’re being watched?” I whisper to Stirling.

He
stops dead, making me bump into the back of him. I can hear his breathing
slowing down as he glances tensely around us.

“I
didn’t until you said that,” he replies hoarsely. “But, now that you mention it . . . ”
The tall boy rotates on his heel, looking out in all directions to the tree line.
“Take your gun up, just in case,” he adds with a warning look.

It
must just be paranoia, because we continue for a long time after that without
encountering anything strange. Though the night is bordering on frosty, a
clammy sweat soaks the grips of my gun as I train it on the bushes to my left
and right. I’m just beginning to assure myself that there’s nothing joining us
in the darkness, when Stirling’s pace quickens and he leaps forward, out of my
view.

“Hey!”
he calls sharply. “There’s something up here.”

I
scramble to catch up to him, finding his lanky figure crouched beside a conspicuously
dark patch of earth. Stirling flicks his light on, illuminating his
outstretched hand as he reaches for something glinting in the dirt. It’s a thin
object with a brassy hue, no longer than my little finger, and Stirling passes
it to me for my inspection. I fumble for my own shoulder light, observing the
object closely in its glow.

“A
bullet?” I say.

Stirling
nods. “Unfired. It’s still in its casing. There are a few more in the dirt
here, and there’s ash on the top layer of the ground.”

“As
if someone has made a fire here?” I ask. He nods again. “So someone has been
settled out here,” I continue. “At least, for a little while. Are we sure it’s
rebels?”

Stirling
gives me a disbelieving look. “Who else would be carrying bullets, Raja, the
wood pigeons?”

Any
wild fancy I might have had about liking Stirling evaporates at the resurgence
of his cocky side. Out of pure little sister instinct, I kick him in the thigh
where he’s crouching to make him wobble. To my surprise, Stirling’s face breaks
into a grin at the impact. He gets to his feet with a handful of bullets,
reclaiming the one he gave me and pocketing the lot.

“Come
on,” he says jovially. “We’ve got something to show Sheila now. No sense
putting ourselves in any more danger tonight.”

“What
about your duty to the Legion?” I ask, starting to match his wry expression.

“My
duty is to survive,” he answers, “and to make sure my friends do the same.” He
claps me on the shoulder and that electric-shock touch is back, despite my
lingering annoyance. “Let’s move.”

We’re
about to turn back, when a strange sound echoes through the trees. I grip my
gun tightly again, shifting to focus my light on the place I think the noise
came from. A second before the torch lands on the spot, I’m sure I see a
shadowy something streak through the trees. Stirling is watching the exact same
place, leaning close to me to whisper with a sudden resurgence of fear.

“Was
that just a rustle, or did it sound like a voice to you?”

“It
was sort of like a cough,” I stammer, my lips turning dry. “Or maybe a deep
breath.”

“Damn,”
Stirling mutters. “We can’t leave now. If someone’s following us, we’ll lead
them right back to the others.”

“Then
what do we do?” I urge.

Stirling
fixes his eyes on mine, holding both my shoulders in a solid grip.

“Stay
here,” he tells me. “Turn your light off and hide, just for a minute or two.
I’ll find whoever that was and ward them off, make sure they’re not inclined to
track us.”

He
reaches into my vest and extinguishes my torch with a snap, his face falling
instantly into shadow. When his light goes out too, I’m left blinking in the
dark as Stirling vanishes into the trees. I back up against the hefty trunk of
a tall, dark tree, clutching my gun and hoping that the figure Stirling’s
chasing was the only one around. It just wouldn’t be fair for the rebels to
shoot me, not when I’m so much nearer to being on their side than I am the
Legion’s. I can feel my pulse blasting bolts of nerves into every limb, my eyes
fixed to the right as I wait for Stirling’s return.

“Move
one muscle, and you’ll regret it.”

The
voice carries on the breeze, and on my left a cold, metal shaft prods against
my bare neck. I don’t know how he got so close without me noticing, but now a
tall, dark figure stalks into the space before me. The tip of his gun rests
over the lump in my throat, and he lifts it up to tilt my chin into line with
his face. When he speaks this time, I know why Stirling’s accent disturbs all
the other people who hear it. The man threatening me now rolls his words out in
just the same way, though his tone is full of gristle, like his throat has been
exposed to a bed of burning coals.

“Put
your light on, soldier,” he demands. “I want you to see my face.”

I
have to secure one hand over the wrist of the other to stop it from shaking as
it rises above my heart. My gun hangs limp from the strap around my neck, its
weight reminding me that, to the Highlander at least, I look as though I’m
primed to shoot him down. Fumbling for the hidden switch, I bathe the enemy’s
face in sudden light.

His
visage is lined and battle worn, with cold blue eyes and angry, greying brows.
He wears no helmet to disguise his slick grey-black hair, and the stiff smile
on his slim jaw belies the rage of a man who has seen many battles. In the
Legion, none of us would call ourselves soldiers if we were standing next to
the ruthless figure before me. Not even Briggs, with his ferocious abuse, could
instil the kind of fear that this man’s presence inspires.

“Are . . . are
you going to kill me?” I stammer.

The
Highlander quirks a brow. He holds the pistol to my throat with one hand,
reaching into his top pocket for a light of his own. He shines a yellow bulb
over my face, and there’s nothing I can do to hide the fear that consumes me. I
feel like he can see me begging for my life, even in the shine of my silent
eyes.

“No,”
he says quietly. “I don’t kill children. I’m not Governor Prudell.”

The
venom with which he utters her name makes me long to scream that we’re on the
same side, and that I’d gladly fight her with him if it meant I could find my
family. But the Highlander doesn’t look like the sort of man who might take a
fellow rebel under his wing. Though he says he won’t kill me, there’s nothing
in his fierce countenance to say he wouldn’t hurt me instead, if he needed to.

“Then,
what do you want with me?” I ask, terrified of the answer that’s coming.

“I
just want you to deliver a message,” he croons, “from the desk of Malcolm
Stryker, so to speak.”

I
gulp hard, feeling the pistol move against the shifting muscles in my throat.

“What’s
the message?” I croak.

“Just
that you’ve seen me,” he says with a grin. “You’re the proof that I’m sitting
on the Legion’s doorstep. Can you do that for me, laddie?”

He
studies me, his icelike eyes boring deep into my face, like they’re burning
right into my soul. I manage to choke out my reply.

“I
can.”

The
pistol moves away from my neck at last. “Great,” the Highlander says, his voice
laced with a bright kind of malice. “Thanks a bunch, by the way.”