The Uninvited (The Julianna Rae Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

The tips of her fingers reached for the knife that wasn’t there. She’d left it on the dressing room counter. A smaller one tucked against her waist. ‘It’s nothing you want,’ she said

‘Really? Nothing I could possibly want.’

She nodded.

‘So you want them back?’

‘Please.’

‘Arrest her. We’ll deal with the rest at Central.’

She kicked his knee. Grinding bones splintered in the force from her assault. His guards cringed, and Taris cursing, fell to one knee, clutching the other.

‘Bitch!’ he yelled.

She snatched the comms from his weakened grip and sprinted toward the main street, throwing her arm behind each comms as she smashed them down into the ground, knowing he would heal himself in moments. The shattered pieces bounced shards around her feet as she raced away. They walked steadily toward her. Slowly. Steadily. Calmly.

His imperceptible reach strangled her neck, clasping down on her until she fell onto her knees, gasping for each breath. She clawed at her skin to loosen the grip that wasn’t seen. She suffocated under his invisible squeeze, and with nothing to pull away from, it tightened with each breath she drew. His fist clenched and the suffocation took over as his footsteps reared up behind her back to watch her struggle.

The wind swirled around her; with a gust, picking the broken comms glass into a high funnel, sparkling like glitter, obeying its Commander to return to their original forms. Her eyes widened as the fully-formed comms plates danced into his reach, completely undamaged and whole again.

‘Thought you knew better.’ Taris ignored the wet ground to crouch beside her, his knee fully healed. She looked at him with big eyes, panting, trying to pull any air that she could into her searing lungs. He placed the newly reformed comms into his shirt pocket.

‘Camp 4.5.2 is nothing compared to where you’re going now, and guess who’s running the show?’ His release sent a rush of blood and dizziness through her. Grey wings floated before her eyes and stars popped like fireworks as her head slammed down. Her body drew in large, ragged gulps of air.

‘We’ve discovered a new therapy for troubled comrades. It’s having some pleasing results, too. Ninety percent success rate. The other ten, well...’ He sighed. ‘Can’t be helped, casualties of war.’

Her hair hung in the puddles, though she propped herself up. Julianna’s neck throbbed and her chest ached from the suffocation. Any healing done in the last few days unraveled, with little hope of mending.

She looked at him in silence.

‘You’re my next subject.’

‘Like hell,’ she panted.

He moved a wet strand of hair caught between her lips. It gripped onto her skin, stubborn under his insisting fingers. ‘It may well be, sweetheart.’

The Militia officers pointed their assault rifles in her direction, ready to fire. The hum of a hover drone sailed along the laneway mid-level to her chest and started bobbing in the air inches from her face. The officer from the club held handcuffs.

Taris hauled her by the healed shoulder into his grasp. She leaned into his chest unsteadily and she wholeheartedly agreed with him she was indeed in a very tight situation.

‘Cuff her, and then search her before she goes on the truck. Once she’s processed at Central, we’ll take her to the camp.’ He roughly raised her chin. ‘Try anything and my men
will
shoot you. Clear?’

His black eyes held her gaze for a very long time. She sheepishly accepted. ‘Crystal,’ she whispered.

*    *    *    *

The truck was a fortress in its own right. The heavy doors slammed shut, and two guards shackled her wrists and ankles. They took seats, one on the platform across from her, the other beside her. Julianna lowered her head away from their eyes and weapons pointing. She entwined her fingers to rest them in her lap and surveyed her enclosure from under her wet hair.

The thick bolt locks slid across the armored doors. Muffled words exchanged; she sat back and waited. She doubted Caden could escape this one, and she thought the same for herself. They weren’t risking anything, not this time. The silver cuffs restraining her wrists confirmed the Commander’s thoughts. The same ones had restrained Caden in the camp. Taris believed she was a watcher with abilities – or he wasn’t risking a damned thing. Either way, the feeling of him screwing her over, overwhelmed her.

The officers sat guarded, with their weapons in their grasp. Julianna assessed. The officer sitting across from her, held a sniper rifle, with the stock to the floor and the muzzle pointed high. The officer to her right, pushed a Sig Sauer into her ribs.

The window slide opened and the cage between their cabin and the driver’s compartment was of welded mesh. Taris peered through it from the other side, glancing in from his passenger seat, and focused more on her than his soldiers. He moved his eyes briefly to the left, not turning his head an inch, and they gave him a nod. Everything was according to plan. Everything was as ordered. Julianna met his stare before the door slid shut with a hard bang against its metal frame.

The truck started. The guard escort ignored its engine echo, their steely glares didn’t falter. Her welded cage was steel and solid, bulletproof. A gun would collect all three with the ricochet if they pulled a trigger. The officers monitored her every move. She lowered her head, focusing on her cuffed wrists. Nemesis boy must have been relegated driving duty. A reward for his find, riding shotgun with the boss, promoted from cabin boy to driving bitch. She dropped the smile under the guards glare. She needed a plan, or a miracle.

A road bump jumped the Sig’s muzzle hard against her ribs. She pulled away as much as the shackles allowed, but the officer moved with her. On the other side of the wall, Taris spoke to his driver. The comms were the center of topic. For the Militia, tonight was a good night. For the Rebellion and Caden Madison, her heart sunk. Her shoulder ached, too, but her heart stung in a million places at the thought of potentially exposing his location.

‘I need to pee,’ she said, looking at him with her big eyes. He glanced at her dancing legs. ‘I really need to pee. You wouldn’t have a girl wet herself, now would you?’

He lowered his Sig. ‘Commander.’ There was no answer until he called again.

The sliding door opened. ‘What?’ Taris’s voice was sharp.

‘Commander, now?’ Julianna said.

‘Says she has to take a piss or she’ll wet herself.’

Taris met her eyes. ‘Let her, then.’

‘Sir?’

‘It’s a fucking ruse, Sergeant, seriously.’ He slid the door shut again. ‘Fucking norms,’ he said from behind it.

‘Yeah, Sergeant, seriously,’ she mimicked.

Her legs stopped dancing and her elbow connected into his chin, crumpling him over his Sig where he sat. She dashed for it, holding it awkwardly between her cuffed hands, shuffling its weight until she aimed at the sniper as it rose in her direction.

She shook her head and cocked the gun, knowing the double trigger action needed engaging once. One bump and his head would splash the sterile interior in a crimson red. He dropped the rifles muzzle to the floor.

The truck journeyed on, its front passengers oblivious to the unfolding events. The sounds muffled enough for a minimal scuffle, but she glanced at the small trap window that could open anytime for a head check. She needed to hurry. Julianna reached for the keys latched onto the unconscious guard’s belt. Her gun moved from the sniper and he lunged forward. The truck swerved and they flung heavily into the doors.

The second officer was stunned from a strike to the head. She heard more noise. Bikes were overtaking the truck on each side as she slipped the cuffs away. Taris cursed loudly at another bump in the road and they swerved again. The unconscious officer fell in a heavy heap while the other nursed his head, still blinded from the blow. The first sharp veer made his rifle drop under the window and near her feet, and she saw the traces of blood smeared across his face as the light caught him.

The truck screeched to a halt. She steadied herself, the key turned in the shackles lock, they bounced open on their spring load and she freed herself quietly.

Julianna stood center of the cabin with the gun hanging from her hand. The truck’s engine had stopped its noise. She checked the Sig’s full magazine twice and rose its sights to the doors. Her legs parted in the firm stance that Taris had taught her, disregarding the two men slumped in the cabin.

Guns fired. She crouched instinctively.  Outside, the sound bounced over the orders barked at the driver to unlock the doors. Taris wouldn’t expect his men in a heap and it was getting ugly out there, she thought. He needed their backup.

She pressed her lips together and waited for the noise to stop. The gun weighed heavily as she held the sights high, following the crunch of footsteps against gravel until they stopped at the doors. They pivoted in the dirt, the bolts slid back, the padlocks snapped open, and she held her breath in hope.

Her heart sank.  Taris stood in front of the bodies lying dead. She counted two in their own blood from the headshots he’d delivered. Behind him, a Rebel in bike gear pointed his gun and dragged his foot like an injured wing.

Taris raised his arm casually; without effort, he lined his target up to take him out with a single shot. Julianna watched in horror as the man fell to his knees. The bullet left a tidy hole gaping in his visor right where his nose would have been, and then he collapsed face down into the dirt.

Taris turned his gun in her direction. ‘Drop it!’ He paced to the left, swinging the truck door wide. It violently opened, swinging on its hinges to return. Taris pushed it away with more deliberation, holding her in his gun’s sights.

She curled her finger around the trigger.

‘Julianna, so help me, drop the fucking gun or I will fucking shoot you right between your fucking eyes.’

Under his command, the weapon slipped from her grasp and she raised her hands in defeat as she stared at the bodies behind him. Her head reeled as Taris fixated on her every action. The driver appeared from the side, holstering his sidearm to his thigh.

‘We could have been followed,’ he said.

Taris clutched a fistful of shirt and dragged the unconscious officer out until he fell to the ground, to
fire his gun into the officer’s head. Blood painted the step and sprayed her hand. Taris remained unmoved, turning his attention to the second failed soldier before stealing a sharp scowl at her. He propped the soldier against the inside wall, deliberating his next assault. She wiped the back of her hand madly against her pants.

‘Fucking norms,’ he said, and raised his foot onto the step before leveraging himself into the cabin. ‘Doesn’t matter, we’re almost in Sector One.’

He pushed her onto the bench and crouched down to shackle her ankles again. ‘No one’s ever breached Sector One’s gates…’ He snatched the keys still curled in her hand. ‘And I’ll take those, thank you.’

‘You want me to call it in?’ The driver raised his portable radio.

Taris nodded. He cuffed her wrists again. ‘Call it in. Have a crew down here to clean up, then get us moving.’ He checked the cuffs and tightened them. ‘We’re open out here, I don’t like it.’

He snapped Julianna a glance again and held her in it, not willing to let go. The doors slammed shut and he sat across with his Sig pointing to her chest.

She listened to the truck, gradually gaining speed on the empty road. Curfew had happened hours ago; anyone out now would get arrested and housed in camp 2.2.1 or Central Command for processing. The fear she felt wasn’t unnoticed with her captor. She’d never graced Central Command with her presence, and boy, oh boy, she thought, she was in for a treat.

Julianna peered at Taris. His mouth curled in the corners, as he watched her hands rubbing over her cargo pants to move the blood away. His smile broadened more and her hands stopped moving.

‘Seen Madison around?’

‘Not since the camp. You?’ Her hands itched to move again. 

His gaping stare made her turn away. She levered herself against the wall of the truck.

‘You’re lying. I can smell him on you,’ he said. ‘Even before we were bound, I could tell when you lied.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘When we reach Central Command, I have a little something waiting for you, a gift.’ His smile unnerved her.

Julianna resisted the urge to bite back.

‘Not long now, darlin’, and it’ll all be over.’

Great,
she thought.
Just fucking yippee-ki-yay motherfucking great!

2345 HOURS.

CENTRAL COMMAND HQ, SECTOR #1.

The building loomed four levels high with a freshly painted white facade and impressed all that came to visit, prisoners and politicians alike. It was different from the run-down, dilapidated halfway houses she was familiar with. Riding her bike on the rare day off, she would go street after street in the outer city Sectors in search of the paradise she remembered from childhood. The green grass, tall trees, and colorful gardens were a thing of the past, when her father would take her hand in his and wander the day away beneath the sun and blue sky. These days, she struggled to find a working swing free of rust in the parks overrun with thick weed, and her heart would grow heavy with the memories she locked away.

This was one of the days where she opened that escape door to the park – to listen to her father’s stories and smell his aftershave as she nestled into his chest. It was these days when she hid from the cruel world of watchers and walkers and
vive le ordre.
She didn’t escape too often, but tonight – in Central Command, under the steely hands clutching her arms and marching her to the processing station – she needed an escape to a safer place.

In the park, no one could read her, steal her thoughts, or manipulate her. The park was neutral. Sometimes, if lucky enough, her father would wait on the park bench to offer advice or a shoulder to cry on. Her mother never showed, it didn’t matter Her father always appeared when she called.

Prisoner 64721 was processed again.

Her right hand pressed onto the flat screen as a single band of light scanned and transferred her prints into a database. Her left hand and then her individual fingers, each pressed down firmly under Taris’s grip to ensure an accurate reading for future reference. The retina scan and general information followed, all typed into a terminal from the clerk sitting behind a tidy white station with low glass dividing walls.

Julianna stared down the long line of clerks doing the same repetitive task, a collective she likened to an airport check in. Scan here, stamp there, now fill in the form and please proceed to the next counter. Others were being processed, too; some made eye contact, but most were terrified of repercussion. The area was busy, with a lot of processing to finish. Taris nudged her.

‘Answer the damned question.’

‘Huh?’ She looked at the clerk.

‘Residence?’

‘Sector Five. Sometimes Sector Three. Sometimes in-country. I bounce a lot.’ She looked at Taris and his frustration showed. ‘Are we done yet?’

‘She’s ready for processing, Commander,’ the clerk said, and passed a cylindrical container over the counter. Taris discreetly pushed it into his pocket and gave the girl a wink.

‘I believe there’s a vacancy at his camp for Human Services Technician,’ Julianna said. The girl behind the counter blushed and Taris ushered Julianna into the bright arena, where personnel dressed in black uniforms madly walked in all directions. They contrasted sharply with their clean environment. Rich evergreens in sunken garden beds with seats underneath offered respite from the office that towered over them as they walked past. She would have admired the architecture, but a sinister intention lurked behind the pretty façade, and she knew better than to take comfort in its beauty.

Rich, ornate centerpieces hung high for admiration. They reflected the glimmer from the ceiling lights strategically placed to advantage the exquisiteness and splendor of the interior. No expense spared. The Senate’s generosity for design and cleverly laid floor plans impressed her. Julianna’s gaze followed the personnel moving along the staircases, or taking the glass elevators to the higher levels of the complex. Every panel, wall, and stair was translucent. They passed under a walkway and she looked up at the boots standing above them. Security cameras caught every polished boot to black cap; every detail of every person recorded, yet they remained unfazed. Soldier ants busying around their nest.

Everyone rushed to meet deadlines; they wanted to return to their families if they had them. Otherwise, another lonely night reading the
Quarterly
or
Bulletin
(depending on which way they swung politically), was the only solace they had.

He pulled her arm through the crowds to an area with less foot traffic. Militia security stood to attention beside a glass wall, waiting for his dismissal. He gave it and stepped up to a platform with arms outstretched and legs apart to submit to a search. Security tightly flanked her sides while the subordinates nervously ran their hands along the Commander’s clothing.

He turned around for them to search his front and met her round eyes. His issued weapons were checked where they were holstered –
Not brave enough to ask the Commander to remove them,
she contemplated – and he smiled, hearing her every thought. They scrutinized his pockets with their hands scrunching the material; his belt was turned at the buckle; his shoes were checked. They left nothing to chance. His hand curled around the cylinder as he took it out his pocket so they could search him with more efficiency.

She studied the object that had triggered the metal detector. A nervous trickle of sweat ran down her back. She’d heard about the processing procedures, but had never witnessed the offending identification marker so close in her sights. The needle tip at the end gave it away, and she knew that inside it, laid a chip he intended to inject under her skin with all the details the clerk had embedded into it. One scan from a hover drone and the permanent marker could track anywhere across the continent.

Maybe even farther.
The notion made her dizzy.
Christ knows with the Militia.

Taris signed the digital tablet offered and stepped down. The efficiency of it all. The dread rolled a trickle of sweat between her bare skin and the handle of the knife she still managed to conceal against her waist.

‘Any weapons?’ the officer asked. He was solid and his cold eyes dared her to move. She shook her head. Taris looked on. He playfully revealed the container holding the identification marker. He was toying with her for a reaction. For her to bite so he could justify his want for force.

‘Only if you find any,’ she said and stepped up to the podium to outstretch her arms and legs. Her eyes locked in Taris’s stare; he stopped twirling his fingers and his smile sent a chill into her heart that made it skip its beat.

‘Allow me,’ he said and promptly slid the tube she had eyeballed into his pocket again.

Julianna stumbled under the harsh turn against the wall; his grab stung, and when he kicked his boot between her feet to spread her legs wide apart, the officers laughed at her expense. She moved from his icy touch, but his grip curled around her arms, and she froze when he moved in to her ear.

His fingers left their grip to skim down her sides, around her curves, moving along the underneath of her breasts and ribs to linger along her sides again. She shifted weight on her feet and closed her eyes. As his hands continued to grope, he stroked the crook of her lower back. He crouched to rub down one leg from top to bottom and bottom to top, slowing to search, and lifting the cuffs of her pants to check. Her breath left her and her eyes opened. He leaned in and his belt buckle pushed roughly into the middle of her back. His fingers parted, sliding between her thighs slowly, feeling her fully before relinquishing his grip.

She flinched, but he hadn’t searched where her blade sat, neatly tucked away. She clung onto the very hope until his hands rose along her sides again.

The security snorted with excited approval when Taris lifted her top to linger over her bare, flat stomach. His hands felt the knife and he extended his fingers below her belt before bringing it out. She turned quickly only to have the  blade’s tip press against her bottom lip.

His audience nodded and he took it away.

‘That’s expensive,’ she said.

He curled his fingers around the handle. ‘Figure you owe me a new one,’ he teased and slipped it away into his own pocket. ‘You know, for last year’s parting gift.’

She stumbled down the platform under his grip. The knife was one thing. His intentions were another. Julianna followed his lead through the security perimeter to a set of double doors that unlatched when he pressed his clearance against the swipe plate.

Taris led her to the long, solid oak table centered in the room. Leather seats lined both sides and a line of portraits hung neatly above the head chair where the General would conduct his meetings. New World Order Leader, General Rosewalt and his Commanders smiled down upon the room’s visitors, strategically placed so everyone could admire their presence from their gold frames.

Heavy hands forced Julianna to sit.

The photos impressed her. A portrait of Taris hung beside the first General in charge. It was a stunning image of the blonde sadist, whose eyes glinted above curling lips on an otherwise expressionless face. She was careful in her glance, as he sat across, to compare the real person with the image. Her arrest would see a promotion his way. Her knowledge and connections to the Rebellion would put him in favor. The family arguments were a sideline for retribution, an excuse, and something they could use as an advantage.

She shuddered to think any further in case Taris was tuning in to her frequency. He smiled. His curling lips and his twinkling eyes in the portrait were watching from the real person, and his amusement was obvious.
Stop it,
she told herself.
He can hear everything you’re freakin’ thinking.

The double doors opened with the arrival of the High Security Division holding their assault rifles ready. The HSD consisted of three men and one woman this evening, arriving in single file, breaking from formation as each took a wall in the room. Their steely gazes focused on her, suggesting quiet obedience was best. The HSD were notorious within the sectors for their heavy handedness. It was the HSD who had bestowed the nightmares upon her of her last interrogation and she hoped this wouldn’t lead to a similar path.

Julianna shook her head in defeat. The doors opened again, and when the next person arrived, she wanted to scream. It wasn’t expected. Taris was playing a cruel joke. Julianna returned her eyes to Taris. His perfect smile stretched while he leaned comfortably into his chair, waiting for her uncle to join them.

She rested her cuffed hands on the table. Doug sat down, unbuttoning his jacket as he did, to display the firearm holstered on his side. Taris lined the confiscated comms plates in a tidy row. Doug nodded. His lips pressed thin under his very dark and deep-set eyes. His brow crinkled, and though a walker held their age well, grey salted his once-dark hair. She believed him to look tired under his boyish grin. He cocked his head to one side and he fingered the closest comms.

‘We expected more from you, Julianna.’

She looked across. He was not all that he appeared; his charm on top disguised the evil underneath, and she knew well what lurked there. She was a product of childhood; she was damaged goods and he was the one she held responsible. The memories flooded back, the reasons she had run. He was the monster she feared on the dark nights alone in her room after her parents had abandoned her.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. The couple of years since they last saw each other had dulled the pain and terror.

‘You expect my embrace and a kiss after labeling me a traitor to the cause?’ She paused. ‘I’m not a Rebel. You’re both mistaken.’

Taris shuffled the comms along the table like a pack of playing cards. ‘These were in your possession,’ Taris said. ‘If you’re not with the Rebellion, why the comms? And why work in a known Rebel location?’

‘Need to make rent somehow. Things are a little tight since the NWO takeover.’

‘We can dance this dance if you like, but having your cooperation will make things easier for you,’ Doug said.

Julianna leaned back, and her hands dropped into her lap. ‘I don’t know a damn thing,’ she said. ‘Maybe someone put them in my clothes when I was performing. Have you seen the show yet, Uncle? It’s very good…I believe to your liking, even.’ She cocked her head and smiled.

‘And you wouldn’t happen to know the access codes for them either?’ Taris asked. He stacked the glass sheets on top of each other again. The fine glass chink-chink-chinked against each other.

They don’t have the codes. That’s why I’m here. It’s why I’m alive.

Taris stopped the chinking.

She shook her head. ‘No. I would not.’

‘We’re halfway to decrypting them anyway,’ Taris said and he stood a comms up on its side, activating it intentionally. ‘The power grids are shutting down across the Sectors as we speak I might add...communication through the comms won’t be happening for the Rebellion anymore.’

Julianna shrugged. ‘A little unfair to the general population, don’t you think?’

‘Seen Madison lately?’ Doug asked.

She nodded at Taris. ‘Looking right at him.’

Taris stared unhappily at Doug and he let the comms fall flat against the other. He sighed heavily, shook his head and curled his lip into a sneer. He grabbed another comms.

Chink, clunk.

‘We know Caden’s contacted you,’ Doug said, careful to differentiate between the cousins’ names.