Chapter 1 – Grace
With blankets pulled up tight around my chin, I enjoyed the warmth that soaked into my skin, the chill in the air outside the cocoon of my blankets daring me to get my ass moving. Winter was nearing, my least favorite time of the year. Soft, white lace curtains were parted and held back by yellow ribbon, giving me a clear and unobstructed view of the darkness outside. The sun wouldn’t be far away though, I could almost feel the forest coming to life around me as that big, burning inferno moved sluggishly to this corner of the world.
There was a moment before the sun rose where the birds would wake, their song filling the pre-dawn air. The short chirp of a hummingbird was nearby, and the more unusual rattling sound of a brambling in the distance. This was my favorite time of the day as if the birds all welcomed the radiant light with song. I loved everything about birds, their beauty, their innocence, their individual melody, but most of all I loved the freedom they embraced. When a blissfully unaware feathered creature of the sky dropped into the compound trees or perched atop one of the buildings, they could simply take to the air and fly over the wall which kept me trapped. It wasn’t that I hated my life here, I was grateful for everything the rebel soldiers had given us. Essentially, it was freedom. But it wasn’t. The wall we lived within meant we weren’t really free.
Brooding about what was and what I wished it could be was a rotten start to the day that I wanted desperately to shake off. With a deep sigh, I made a concerted effort to bury my gloomy thoughts and think of all the good things that came from living in Liberty—safety, friends, Ink.
Now I was sighing again, damn it. Ink, a man who embodied brooding and took it to the next level. Don’t get me wrong, I’d seen him smile—flirty smiles, seductive smiles, smirky smiles—all saved for the other women in Liberty. For me, he offered the very rare and elusive smile which came right from his soul and reached his eyes, but it had been a long time since I’d seen that smile.
These days Ink didn’t offer me much more than decisive grunts, furrowed brows or deep frowns filled with irritation. Ink was, my… friend? I wasn’t sure what to make of my relationship with Ink. I’d known him since I was twelve, and he was a much older twenty-one-year-old rebel soldier. He protected me, provided for me, taught me skills for survival in this unforgiving world we lived in. And I loved him for everything he’d given me.
And therein lies the problem, I love him. But he doesn’t love me. Not in the way I wished he would. Unrequited love, how cliché.
Over the last year, things between us had significantly shifted. He’d become less patient with me, his visits less frequent, his rare smile gone. Ever since I’d thrown myself at him like a love-sick teenager and pressed my warm lips to his non-responsive cold ones, he’d grown more and more detached. Now, my heart ached because I’d lost one of my best friends and the true smile he’d always saved for me had ceased to exist.
Ignoring my heavy thoughts, I glanced around my quiet and shadowed cabin. I adored my cabin, my home. The log structure wasn’t large, but it was dry and warm, and it was mine. One large room made up the living, kitchen, dining, and bedroom. The furniture was rustic timber, made by people in Liberty from the felled trees of the forest. A tiny couch sat before an iron stove heater in the corner. A long bench with a sink made up the kitchen, and shelves above it housing my few cups, mugs, and plates. My bed was a double with a twisted wrought iron headboard and footboard, and a thick knitted rug cushioned my feet when I stepped out of its warmth and onto the cool timber floor. A doorway to the side of my bed led into a tiny bathroom space.
My favorite place was just outside of my cabin, under a thick trunked, ancient pine that reached high into the sky with a canopy of lace-like leaves. From one of its high, bulky branches, hung a swing with a plank of wood for a seat. Ink had hung it for me when I was a child, but the enjoyment of sitting and swinging with the calm forest around me never faded. I sat out there every chance I could soaking up the peace and quiet.
That was it, my home. Small, but cozy and most importantly, safe. I didn’t have many possessions, a few knickknacks, clothes, and a small pile of linens. While by some standards my home and meager possessions might make me poor, I had lived for a short time with much less.
Liberty offered me life, perhaps not the life I would have chosen for myself, but life, never-the-less.
A noise that wouldn’t usually accompany the quiet stirrings of dawn caught my attention and my brow creased in confusion. A thunderous crash, something akin to metal being twisted and beaten into submission made my legs feel weak and body tremble. Muted and intermittent shouts could be heard somewhere in the vastness of the Liberty compound. Keeping perfectly still, I held my breath straining to hear the faraway cries. The crack of gunfire broke my frozen state, and I threw my blankets to the floor as I lurched from the bed, my heart suddenly hammering. For a moment I wondered if I had imagined it. Coming to a stop in the middle of my room I realized the world outside my door was deathly silent. Then, more gunfire.
Clumsily, I reached for a pair of jeans sitting neatly folded on a shelf and tugged them on, my breath coming hard and fast as I pulled a long-sleeved shirt from a chest of drawers, dragging it on over my singlet, followed by a sweater and boots. From another drawer, I hauled out a leather harness and began trying to strap it around my upper thigh. Panic had me struggling with the buckle and frustration forced me to stop, take a deep, calming breath before returning to the task with somewhat steadier hands.
The sounds of shouting and gunshots cut through the morning air and I could tell they were getting closer. Reaching for the sharp blade Ink had gifted me all those years ago, I slid it into the holster around my thigh, then flew to the corner of my room and dragged aside the small bookcase that hid the hole in my wall where my gun was concealed. Trembling fingers wrapped around cool metal, and I quickly loaded it with what little ammunition I had.
Ink had taught me how to defend myself and having the gun in my hand added a layer of confidence to the terror attacking my heart. I’d only ever fired at targets, but I wouldn’t hesitate to aim at a living, breathing being to protect myself and my friends, Ink had made sure of that.
The abrupt sound of a fist pounding on my door almost made the gun slip from my fingers.
“Grace!” The familiar voice from outside my door was filled with panic.
Jumping to my feet my door was thrown open as I reached it and I drew a panicked Skye into my arms. She was my best friend in the world, a usually hard-assed, mouthy beauty, with smooth mocha skin and exotic eyes that made me jealous as hell. She hugged me hard, her composure clearly rattled.
“Do you know what’s happening?” I asked.
Skye shook her head and pulled away, though she kept her fingers linked with mine. Her eyes darted about with nervous apprehension. Sliding my gun into the back waistband of my jeans, I thought how cranky Ink would be. He said carrying a weapon like that was dangerous, I could shoot my ass off. Right now, I didn’t have the time to go searching for the holster.
“Grace!” Came another voice I recognized from the trees in front of my cabin.
“Trigger, what’s happening?” I asked, dragging Skye from my living room and out into the freezing night air.
Trigger approached Skye and me with wild eyes. He was fully dressed in customary military fatigues and looked to be wide awake. Unlike Skye and me, who appeared a hot mess that had just dived from bed. Maybe he’d worked a night shift on the front gate. Trigger was Ink’s best friend, a soldier through and through, but more playful and easy going than most. Right now, he wore a deep frown, his body stiff and commanding as he jogged through the dry pine under his feet with his rifle hung over one shoulder.
“We need to go,” Trigger ordered, as he reached out and snatched Skye’s wrist, pulling her away with such ruthlessness her hand was ripped out of mine.
“What’s happening?” I shouted, jogging to keep up as I followed Trigger and Skye through the trees. The flickering lights from neighboring cabins caught my eye, and I wondered how scared the people behind those doors must be.
“Liberty has been infiltrated…” Trigger glanced over his shoulder, grim yet determined eyes catching mine. “We’re under attack.”
My mind blanked out for a moment.
Infiltrated?
Attacked?
It was something we’d prepared for in the way of drills and mock infiltrations over the last several years, and regardless of how seriously we took those drills, we never thought it would actually happen. While we were still classified as ‘wanted felons,’ who had escaped from an underground prison, we were under the impression the government wasn’t prepared to waste money and time on finding us. After all, most of us so-called ‘felons’ were innocent people born inside the prison system.
Was it the government finally catching up with us to return us to the Underground? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
I couldn’t go back, I’d never survive. As we passed a small group gathered in front of a cabin, I couldn’t help but notice the panic on the faces of the people who watched us pass.
“Grace?” Marrisa was five years older than me. A bright and happy beauty who I was insanely jealous of simply because she and Ink had shared a bed for some time. I hated my jealousy, it felt like an emotion which invaded my body without permission, and turned me into someone I didn’t want to be. Marissa was beautiful, sweet and kind. My anger toward her was unfair.
Although we hoped we would never need to use an evacuation plan, we had one in place for such an event.
“We’ve been infiltrated. Everyone needs to evacuate,” I called out as I ducked back into the trees trying to follow Trigger and Skye’s retreating forms.
The chaos in my wake disappeared from view, but the looks on my friends’ faces and the sounds of their cries and panic stayed with me, as I moved further into the trees. Trigger and Skye were no longer visible, but I knew where we were headed. We’d practiced this drill enough times for me to understand it was Trigger’s job to get Skye and me to safety outside Liberty.
The evacuation plan was to head to the closest evacuation point. There were two—the front gate or the underground tunnel that led right under the wall, down a narrow corridor dug out of the earth and soil, and out a secure door which was hidden in the trees along the northern side of the wall.
Most of the noise from the fighting seemed to be coming from the front of the compound, so I assumed it meant the front gate was compromised, which also meant the tunnel was our only chance. So far I couldn’t make out any other people headed in that direction, though. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t walk away from my people without knowing they were safe.
“Trigger?” I called, as he continued to pull ahead. “Trigger!”
He didn’t answer, though. He was on a mission to evacuate us. As Trigger and Skye’s rapid footsteps disappeared, I came to a stop and took a few deep breaths as I allowed the sound of the forest to invade my senses and took stock of my surroundings. I was familiar with every inch of this place and I knew exactly where I was. The entire compound sat on a little over fifteen acres, and to keep the feeling of freedom, forest trees had been left standing, growing heavier on the outskirts where I now stood. My cabin sat with most others about three hundred from my current position, closer to the center of the compound. Just beyond the cabins were large storage facilities, an enormous barn crammed with animals and feed, a huge garage, the infirmary, the soldiers’ barracks and a gigantic shared kitchen and dining room. At the very center was Liberty’s pride and joy, a large open field. The meadow, though no doubt small by most standards, was our common area. Where we gathered to feel the sun on our skin and let the idea of freedom fill our veins. From that open field, we pretended we weren’t locked behind the walls, trapped.
Skye and I had an evac plan separate to everyone else. While the people of Liberty were to exit the compound and regroup at a large clearing, we were supposed to find our way to small cave five miles east. Ink, Trigger, Skye and me had explored the area a few years ago. It would offer protection from the elements, and a place to regroup before deciding what our next step would be. It was a place where Ink knew I’d be safe. And if anyone ever did come for us, Ink would know where to find me. Even though I knew he cared about the citizens of Liberty, he’d always said my safety was his first priority. But right now, in a moment when my safety should have definitely been of concern, I couldn’t abandon my people, my friends, my family. And Ink might be an ornery bastard at times, who had smashed my young teenage heart into sharp, fragile pieces, but I could never leave him behind.
Letting the quiet sounds of the forest calm me, I turned and headed back toward my home, walking carefully through the brush, making as little sound as possible, just as Ink had shown me. The crack of a branch stopped me in my tracks. That hadn’t been me. Unhurriedly, I reached for the gun in the back of my pants.
The sun was beginning to rise slowly, breaking the horizon and turning the darkness into a soft blue, which would gradually bleed into yellow hues as the day moved forward. It was in the dull shadows I saw a figure move. Terror left me speechless and trembling, my breath heaving in and out of my lungs with short, sharp breaths. The hand that was wrapped around the gun shook, and I didn’t have time to calm the terror I was battling with.
The shadowed figure moved toward me without any hesitation. I didn’t recognize the face, and I knew everyone who lived in Liberty. The dark eyes which quickly approached were unfamiliar, and I didn’t hesitate to raise my weapon.
“Stop, or I will shoot you,” I commanded in a strong and sure voice.
He didn’t. Panic bled into my veins and straight to my racing heart. My finger wrapped around the trigger, a part of the weapon I only touched if I wanted to kill someone, and I gently squeezed. The stranger was abruptly brought to a halt only a few feet away as the bullet from my gun entered his neck. I’d been aiming for his head, the gloomy light and my unsteady hands forcing my aim off. Regardless, he went down heavy, a choking sound coming from his mouth as he attempted to breathe around the blood filling the wound. The noise of his death was unlike anything I’d ever heard before as he choked on his own blood. A thick, rasping cough made me wince before he went blissfully silent.
My hand shook even worse now as I shoved the gun once again into the back of my jeans. I’d killed someone, taken a life without so much as wavering indecision.
‘It’s kill or be killed, you against them.’ Ink’s words from weapon training filled my thoughts, and I shook my shaking arms out, moving restlessly from one foot to the other. Even though I hadn’t had time to notice the sound of Liberty’s attack disappearing, the clash of noise abruptly returned to my senses.
“You got this,” I whispered, hoping the words would bring me the same centered peace they did when Ink said them to me. ‘Face your enemy, show no fear, and fight to survive.’ Another of his inspiring recitations.
I heard my name being called from somewhere far behind me. It was Trigger. He’d prevent me from going back. My feet moved before I’d even made the conscious decision to run. Ducking under low lying branches, I ran through the sparse woods and before I knew it, cabins began to appear indicating I was on the outer edges of the compound’s center. At the first cabin I came to I found Louie standing at the front door, a rifle in his hands and a hard look on his face.
“Grace, what’s going on?” he nervously asked.
“Evac Louie,” I shouted as I ran by.
Following a path that led past one of the storage buildings, I headed toward the sporadic sound of gunfire and screaming. It seemed to be coming from somewhere closer to the front gates, maybe even the meadow. As I grew closer the sounds of shouting and crying grew louder, urging me forward.
“Grace, stop! Dammit,” Trigger cursed from behind me.
His heavy breaths were so close now he’d probably be able to reach out and touch me. Dropping to my butt I rolled, and Trigger overran me by a few steps. I was already up and running again by the time he slowed and turned, cutting through the back of the garage and slipping on the gravel at its corner.
“Fuck, Grace,” Trigger spat out, already hot on my heels again.
I felt his hand tug on my sweater, pulling me to a halt, but my feet had begun to slow anyway. I’d reached the open field, and my heart that was already beating too fast seemed to trip over itself at the sight before me. Rough looking men with guns were herding the people of Liberty into the open area. I watched as a large, giant of a man used the butt of his gun to slam down on someone’s head, and a child began screaming from his mother’s sobbing embrace as they helplessly watched on. From this distance, I wasn’t sure who it was. But he was much smaller than the tyrant who now stood over him, his gun poised in the direction of a small group who huddled together weeping.
Viviane was our compound leader, a cool, calm and collected rebel soldier who made sure our small community thrived over the past seven years. At this moment her lifeless body was being carelessly roped to our flagpole. She was covered in blood and naked. The shouting gradually began to die down, and those who weren’t lying on the ground either dead or close to it, were being corralled into a large group by more men I didn’t recognize.
“Shit!” Trigger murmured into my ear, his arms wrapping around me to prevent me stepping forward.
I felt his body tense, as if ready to pick me up and physically remove me when a voice cut through the chaos.
“Nice of you to join the party.”
My gaze quickly found the owner of that booming voice. An athletically lean man cut a path through the chaos. The sun had almost broken the tree line now, his features clear in the early morning light. He was eerily pale in a way that reminded me of snow. His hair which spiked up in every direction was as white as his skin. He either didn’t have eyebrows, or they too were so pale they blended in with his flesh. From this distance, I couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes, but they were ghostly pale, maybe green, or blue. His face was full of unusual metal, somewhat like the piercing jewelry I’d seen Bones use on the few Liberty members who’d dared let him stick a needle in their body. Two hoop rings were pierced through his bottom lip. Through the septum at the bottom of his nose was another hoop, and there seemed to be some sort of bar through the bridge of his nose. I’d never seen anything like it. Regardless of the odd metal in his face, it was the crazy glint in those pale eyes which scared the crap out of me. He was tall, maybe six-two, dressed in fitted black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that was torn across the chest and at one shoulder, showing a red shirt underneath. He wore heavily buckled boots that landed with an ominous crunch on the dirt beneath his feet.
Behind him and slightly to his side was a woman. She was almost as tall as the man she strutted along behind, wearing tight khaki pants and an equally tight black, long-sleeved shirt. Beautiful was too ordinary a word for her, she was extraordinary in every way with high cut cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and flawless skin. Her flesh bore no metal, and where the man seemed to be the very definition of snow, she was all darkness. The crazy glaze to her eyes mimicked that of the man she followed.
As they moved past Viviane’s corpse, a body was thrust forward into the clearing before us, and all the air in my lungs was expelled in an audible gasp. Ink, my Ink. Rolling once, he became still, and I was seconds away from losing my mind when he moved, pushing to his knees as if to stand. Another man holding a rifle stepped forward and kicked Ink in the back, sending him to his knees once more. When I struggled to move to him, Trigger held me even tighter.
“Stay calm,” he demanded quietly.
Ink’s focus didn’t move from the crazy couple before him, the man smiling with feverish anticipation while the woman remained stoically detached. Ink’s face was covered in blood, dripping down the side of his cheek to his jaw, where it became lost in his close-cropped beard. Dressed in only cargo pants and a tee shirt, blood dripped down one arm, disappearing amongst the inked flesh before trickling down his tattooed fingers and falling to the dirt below. If I hadn’t been watching him closely, I might have missed the subtle wince when he tried to sit higher on his knees. Any nuance of pain I could find on him became my own, my heart splintering with every drop of his blood.
“There’s no point fighting us. My men are rounding up the rest of Liberty as we speak. Your soldiers are grossly outnumbered.”
The pale guy spoke with an unusual inflection, something akin to a lisp, the ‘s’ in his speech coming out slightly distorted. He calmly strolled over to Viviane’s unmoving body and gathered her hair into his fist, pulling her head up for all to see. Her face was barely recognizable under the swelling and blood.
“Viviane had an unfortunate accident.” He let her head go, Viviane’s chin falling back to her chest. “As you can see, she’s clearly not fit to lead you anymore.” He laughed, the sound manic and high pitched. A few of the soldiers who had obviously come with this man snickered and cheered.
Our people remained silent. Watching. Waiting.
“My name is Jebediah, and I’ll be replacing the recently departed Viv.” He strolled back into the clearing, coming to a standstill before Ink, his crazed smile in place as he observed the man on his knees before him. Ink wasn’t cowering, though. He couldn’t stand because the soldiers would just push him back down, but he wasn’t cowering either. Ink’s shoulders were pressed back, and though he must have been hurting, he didn’t waver, not for a second.
“Liberty,” Jebediah scoffed. “Who thought up that?” He looked about the people who nervously watched him as if expecting an answer. “Viviane?” He went on, pointing to Viviane’s lifeless body. Jebediah shook his head in disappointment and wandered around in front of Ink, the icy, cold woman with him watching his every move. “I think, with new leadership, it’s only prudent we give this compound a new name.” Jebediah made a big show of thinking as he paced back and forward, his finger tapping his chin pensively. Eventually, he stopped, and his rabid grin made me shiver. “The Arena.”
His soldiers cheered in agreeance, the woman however, remained cold and indifferent. Jedediah scared me, but she absolutely terrified me in a way I couldn’t comprehend.
“Let her go.” Jebediah’s command brought my attention right back to him.
He was staring at Trigger and me, his gaze lingering on the man behind me. Jebediah chuckled and murmured something under his breath.
“Let. Her. Go,” he ordered again, his voice not rising a single octave.
“I’d do as the boss asks if I were you,” came a low and gravelly voice.
Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed a man standing with his gun pressed to Trigger’s head. He smiled at me, showing his rotting teeth. From the death and destruction this crew had already wreaked on Liberty, I knew they’d shoot Trigger without a second thought.
Patting Trigger’s arm, I whispered, “It’s okay, let me go.”
Reluctantly, he did.
When my gaze returned to the sight before me, I found Ink’s beautiful eyes watching me, barely concealed panic flaring within their blue depths. Looking beyond Ink, Jebediah grinned and crooked his finger my way.
“Come, come, come, little bird.”