Tracey Ward - Backs Against the Wall

“I don’t want to change you, Joss.”

I grin at his lie. “Yes, you do. At least a little.” I shrug, continuing up the stairs. “And maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. Maybe it will do me good to let my guard down a little.”

Famous last friggin’ words.

When we open the door to my loft, I nearly scream. That’s where I’m at on the threat level. Screaming. Let me make something crystal clear here; I. Do. Not. Scream. Ever. Not when they ate my parents, not when I ran into the street to find a world gone crazy, not even when they pounded on the outside of the car all day and all night as I lay shivering on the floorboards soaked in urine, sweat and fear. I never made a sound.

But now, finding Trent parked in the darkness in the middle of my loft, his eerie eyes fixed on my face like a hungry lion, I choke on a shriek.

“I will freakin’ kill you,” I breathe, begging my heart to stop pounding in my chest. It aches from the pressure.

“Good to see you too,” he drones.

“Come on, Trent, a little warning. We could have killed you, man,” Ryan complains behind me.

Trent smirks. “Not on your best day.”

“What do you want, psycho?” I demand.

“It’s not what I want. It’s what The Hive wants.”

Ryan curses behind me. I second that. Trent just nods.

“They want to see me,” Ryan eventually mumbles.

“They want to know why you’re fighting again. And who it is you’re fighting for.”

“When?”

“Hours ago would have been best.”

I glare at him. “You obviously knew we were downstairs. Why didn’t you come tell us this? It’s kind of important.”

“And interrupt your magic moment? There are so few joys in this world anymore, why would I steal that from you two?”

I look at Ryan. “Is he messing with me or is he being serious? I can’t read him.”

“No one can,” Ryan says. “He’s written in backwards brail.”

I glare at Trent again. “It’d be easier just to kill him.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Trent smiles.

“Alright, let’s not waste time.” I turn to Ryan, holding up my arm. “Take the splint off. Let’s go.”

He stares down at me for a long time, just looking. I wait patiently, my arm still held out to him.

“Would it to any good at all,” he asks quietly, his eyes imploring, “to ask you to stay here. Not tell you, but ask you nicely to stay here and wait for me?”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself I’m mending fences here. “I appreciate that you’re not trying to tell me what to do. Consider your effort acknowledged.”

“I’m marking it in the minutes of this conversation,” Trent tells us.

“Not helping,” Ryan mutters, glaring at him over my shoulder.

“But,” I say firmly, shaking my arm to get Ryan’s attention, “it doesn’t change the fact that I’m coming with you. I’m the one with Vin’s ring—“

“You could give it to me.”

“And I’m the one who was sent in his place.”

“They don’t know that.”

“I’m the one who knows about the Colony.”

“You’ve told me what you know.”

“I’m the one who was kidnapped, held prisoner, watched her friend nearly killed and murdered a woman in cold blood to get out!” I shout, deciding fences are overrated anyway. “I’m going!”

“Alright,” Ryan says softly. Too softly. He steps closer, pushing my arm down out of the way. “Then what about this? They didn’t ask to see you. They want to see me about the Underground. It has nothing to do with you and I can tell them that at the door if you try to go with me. You’ll be locked out, treated like a girl from the stables.”

“You wouldn’t,” I growl, fully believing the look in his eyes that says yes, he would.

He nods slowly. “Oh yeah, I would. If it means keeping you from going there, I would.”

“I promised them, Ryan.”

“And we’ll keep your promise. I’ll help you. We’ll go to the Vashons. We don’t need The Hive.”

“What’s a Vashon?” Trent asks.

I bristle, hating the interruption, but I bite my tongue because I’ve already shouted at one of them in the last few minutes. I’m not looking to lash out at everyone. Not yet.

“A group Crenshaw mentioned. We were just with him asking his advice,” Ryan tells him, still standing in my space.

He’s towering over me, probably to intimidate me, but what he doesn’t know (what I’ll never tell him) is that it’s comforting. Eye level with his chest, seeing his shoulders go on for miles, knowing the strength lying in wait inside; it’s comforting. He has my back and he’s strong enough to rely on. I can let a little bit of the weight of the world pass on to him and he can take it. That’s terrifyingly wonderful. It’s why I don’t step away. Not because I don’t want to retreat. Don’t want to show weakness. Okay, that’s part of it, but mostly it’s because I just like it. I like him.

“They live on an island down south. It’s supposed to be Risen free,” I tell Trent.

“That’s a sweet fairytale,” Trent chuckles.

“I don’t think it is. I think it’s for real. At least it was the last he knew of it. Either way, it’s worth a try. It’s a better option than owing anything to The Hive.”

“But what if it’s not real?” I ask, looking up into his face. “What if we get there and it’s nothing? Then we need The Hive anyway and we lost our shot at talking to them.”

Ryan shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine. “I’d rather take the risk that they don’t exist than risk taking you—“

“We’d need a boat.”

Ryan and I both turn to look at Trent.

“Why?”

“It’s an island, right? We’d need a boat to get to it. Do you have a boat?”

I shake my head even though I imagine I’m not meant to answer that question.

“No,” Ryan admits darkly.

“Well then, problem solved,” Trent says happily, standing. “We need The Hive after all.”

Ryan, Trent and I walk through the dark streets together, heading for The Hive. This area is relatively cleared of Risen, not much of a surprise. But the empty, silent streets make me more nervous than a horde would. It’s ominous and horrifying. I’m shaking a little, though I’d never let them know it. My arm is aching being out of the splint, the thin material of my worn, black fleece the only protection it has left. It’s not ready. Maybe I’m not ready. But the dull yellow glow of the lights inside the aquarium are burning at the end of the street and it’s too late to turn back now.

“Crenshaw isn’t going to be happy about this,” Ryan grumbles.

“Cren ain’t gots to know ‘bout it.”

He looks over at me, his face worried and confused. “Are you alright?”

“No,” I mutter, wiping my sweating palms on my pants. “I’m freaking out a little.”

“It shows. What was that?”

“I’ve heard the gangs talk like that before,” I say defensively.

“Well, most don’t so, you know… don’t.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

He glances over at me, the confusion gone but the worry etched deep in his eyes. “I won’t let them keep you here.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

I won’t let them keep me here.

“Then what are you afraid of?” Trent asks.

“Did I say I was afraid? No one said afraid. Let’s keep it on the real, boys.”

“Stop that,” Ryan reminds me.

“Right, yeah. I’m not afraid. I’m just freaked. It’s different.”

“What are you freaked about?”

“There are Risen in there. In a crowded room. That’s a big red flag right there; the mass of people. I’m not a fan.”