Tracey Ward - Backs Against the Wall

“It can’t be new. It’s too well developed. And a girl I talked to said it had been occupied before but there was a problem in the building. They abandoned it for a while.”

“Who was this girl?”

I shrug, sitting back with my arms crossed over my chest. “Just some chick angry at being there.”

“Another friend?” Ryan asks, grinning.

I shake my head. “I punched her in the face.”

“Typical.”

“And the ear. I almost knelt on her throat. Nearly smothered her with a pillow.”

“Now do you see why I have a hard time believing you made friends in there?”

“This young woman,” Crenshaw says suddenly, frowning at his map, “did she know if there were others? Other Colonies?”

“No, just the ones you have marked now.”

He looks up at me, his face drawn. He’s disappointed. “It is a shame you could not gain us more valuable information while you were there.”

“It is. It’s a shame I didn’t do more sleuthing while I was there,” I say, my temper rising. “I should have gone all Sherlock up in that joint, but I was too busy trying not to lose my mind from all of the bright lights and bodies everywhere. Next time, I promise, I’ll do better.”

Ryan isn’t looking at me anymore. He’s watching Crenshaw carefully, probably worried I’ll upset him with my sarcasm. Part of me is worried too, but a bigger part is annoyed. Tired. Angry.

“What is this?” I demand, changing the subject.

I point to a dark area of the map, shaded in shadows with jagged strokes. It’s in the south, just a few blocks from the two stadium Colonies sitting side by side.

“Hmmm,” Crenshaw moans quietly. “That is a portal into Hell.”

“Right.”

“The space between here,” he points to a narrow corridor running between the dark area and the Colonies, “is the Valley of the Shadow of Death. One must never, never pass through it.”

“Of course not.”

“But none of this is important, not right now. What I want to show you is this.”

Crenshaw turns the map toward us. He points decisively to a small area at the very bottom. It’s just the peak of a piece of land, nothing descript or defining about it at all. But written carefully over the top of it is the word Elysium .

“And what is that?”

Crenshaw smiles at me, his eyes wild. “Heaven.”

“Oh, yeah,” I say faintly, squinting at the map. “I can see it now.”

“How is it Heaven, sir?” Ryan asks.

His foot nudges mine gently under the table. I don’t know if it’s on purpose, if it’s a warning or an accident. Either way I don’t like it and I move my feet away from him.

“It is an island in the south. It is completely and utterly wraith free.”

“That’s impossible.”

“My boy, in Heaven nothing is impossible. This is where you will go to look for help.”

“To where?” I ask feeling frustrated. “What is this? Who’s there? I’ve never heard of anywhere being Risen free, nowhere real. It’s all myth.”

“It is a place like no other. One must only believe, to have faith in—“

“Crenshaw, what is it?” I snap, exasperated.

My patience for this conversation has died. I care about this guy, I really do, but I’m already pushed to my limits with everything else going on and now talking about the Colonies, being scolded for not getting better intel while I was in prison… I’m spent. I’m riddled with guilt and this ring pinching at my finger, growing tighter every single day, is dragging me down to the ground. I need answers. Real ones, not fairytales that will send me on adventures or journeys to strange mystical lands where I’m meant to ask for help from the fairies or the centaurs. If this is all the help he has, some slice of land in the south where he thinks he saw an angel once, then I have to get real and go to The Hive.

He looks at me in surprise, his eyes narrowing. “It is rude to interrupt, child. I thought you better than this.”

“Well, I’m not. This has been fun, but I need the real Crenshaw for a minute. Is he in there or am I wasting my time? Cause if he’s not in, that’s fine. I’ll go get my help elsewhere.”

He sits back in his seat, appraising me. “You mean the others.”

“I mean The Hive.”

“Joss,” Ryan says quietly. His tone tells me that, yes, the foot nudge was a warning.

I ignore it and him.

“What’s it going to be, Cren?”

There’s a long tense silence in the small room. The smell of the onions is starting to give me a headache, the low light messing with my eyes and making them burn. As he continues to stare at me, something in his face changes. He’s angry at me but there’s something else too. Something I’m not equipped to read or understand.

“It is an island,” Crenshaw finally says softly, “filled with people. Survivalists like myself. They cleared it of the wraiths, built homes, made it sustainable. They are very reclusive. Very exclusive. Many in my generation know of them but they are heavily guarded and not to be trifled with. You may join by invitation only and they stopped sending out invitations a long time ago.”

“You had one, didn’t you?” Ryan asks him gently.

Crenshaw nods sadly. “I did. I still do. I helped them years ago to set up their gardens for the apothecary. In exchange, I was given an open invitation to join them at any time.”

“Why haven’t you?” I ask.

He ignores me. He sits in silence staring down at the map. At the small point lovingly labeled Elysium .

“Why didn’t you go?” Ryan finally asks.

“Because I would not leave her behind,” he whispers.

His daughter. Even I can follow this part of the conversation.

“Will they help us to take down the Colony? To overthrow A-36?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer me directly. He doesn’t look at me. “They despise the Colonies. They were once one of them. The original. Not on the island, but farther south in the deserts of another land. Of another time. A time when the war was waged with true armies and still we lost. Now our hope lies in you, in the two of you and… I am sorry. I have drifted off topic and you need answers. You need them now .”

“Come on, Cren,” I say, trying not to sound as annoyed as I feel. Or as guilty.

“If anyone will help you, it will be them.”

“Do they have a name?” Ryan asks.

Crenshaw nods. “The Vashon. They took that name when they broke from the zealots. When innocent blood was shed and they would stand for it no longer, which is why they are your greatest hope. I learned my hatred of the zealots from them and trust me, it runs deep. If you go to the others they will betray you. They will steal from you, enslave you, murder you, but the very last thing they will ever do is help you. I hope you understand that.” He stands abruptly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve grown weary. I would be alone, thank you.”

“Of course,” Ryan agrees, standing quickly.

He puts his hand lightly on my back to usher me forward. I start to turn to snap at him but his touch turns impatient. I’m shoved out the door past Crenshaw before I can say a word. Ryan stays inside for a brief moment. Then he bows, accepts a light hand laid on the back of his head and that’s it. Thus concludes the crazy portion of our day.

I turn silently to leave with Ryan, but when I look back at the small dark hut set deep in the woods, I feel sick in my stomach. Sad. We got information. We have a lead on a path to take around The Hive.

But I know I might have burned a bridge getting it.

Ryan and I walk in silence back to my loft. We have to deal with Risen along the way, but we take them down easily and without a word. We’re surrounded at one point, something that should have scared me, should have sent my blood running cold through my veins and my heart hammering in my chest until it couldn’t take it anymore and stopped. My breath should have died in my throat, a strangled moan escaping to be drowned out in the roar of moaning surrounding me. It should have happened because it’s happened before.