Thunder (33 page)

“No, but I did arrive shortly after.” Glade hung his head. “My shortcomings sent me here.” He covered her hand with his.

“What do you mean?” Selah felt the kinship of his touch. Her real father. The reality started to sink in. She had done it. She had found him.

He rubbed his chin. “Someday I'll tell you, but for now I want you to know it was my deep sense of repentance that caused my capture. I needed to save you and your mother. I wasn't running away from my responsibilities but was finally running toward them.” He rose, took her hand, and wrapped it around his arm.

Selah smiled and strolled with him back to the group. She glanced at the position of the sun. They'd been here about an hour. She'd been too excited for food, but now her stomach was beginning to growl. She and Amaryllis needed to make some weapons and do some hunting.

The Landers were on their feet and moving about.

Bodhi approached Selah and Glade. “They've decided they don't want to stay, and I'm not sure they'd be safe anyhow.”

“Do they know where they're going?” Selah asked. “I've never known anyone to go farther than the Mountain.”

One of the Landers spoke up. “Glade knows where we'll be. There are many large colonies in the north. It's just inhospitable country in the winter, very cold and a lot of snow.”

Selah cringed. Intriguing. She'd heard of snow but had never seen any. “Do you have to leave so soon?”

Another Lander spoke. “We're only as far away as your thoughts.”

“We're anxious to see what's left of our families. We must take our leave,” another said.

“If we delay much longer, we will have to travel in the heat of the day, so I suggest we get started,” one said, moving away from the group.

They all clasped arms. Selah had never seen the gesture before. Each man grabbed another's elbow with his right hand, so instead of holding hands they were clasping forearms. She liked it.

She watched them walk away, free for the first time in many years. Sadness overwhelmed her. She realized they weren't her blood, but they were her people. She belonged somewhere no one could take away.

They watched the group move off into the woods, heading north.

“I'm worried they have no food or weapons to hunt,” Selah said.

Bodhi smiled. “You just can't turn off the mom part, can you?”

Selah shot him a glare. “My attention to detail has gotten me this far, bucko.”

Glade laughed. “Ganston left us a map of the north. I showed them the communities where they could find sympathetic allies and procure weapons or supplies. They'll be fine. They're grown adults.”

Treva grinned. “Yeah, really old adults.”

Selah ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, I'll stop. So what are we going to do?”

The six of them sat down where Glade and Treva had the package open.

“We're welcome to stay here,” Treva said. “My uncle has work crews coming daily. His community will leave the Mountain in about a month.”

Selah looked at Glade. “I don't think it's safe for us to stay here.”

“I agree with that assessment. It may be safe in the future, when this place gets established. I got the impression from Commander Mojica that there were Landers in the Mountain that no one knows anything about,” Glade said.

Everyone sat up straight.

“What do you mean? More prisoners?” Selah asked.

“There were no others in the labs,” Treva said.

Glade raised both hands. “I'm sorry I said that. It was just an impression I got from our conversation. Mojica told me she altered Selah's bio-signature in the system so the search fleet couldn't find her. And she also changed the report where Selah was questioned by a transport at one of the stations. ”

Selah put a hand to her mouth. “I forgot all about that.”

“It just seemed that she knew more about the situation than I would have expected. With her in command, I'm sure if there were other captives we'd have gotten them out also. Right now staying here might set us up for capture again. We'd do better to go north.”

Selah looked at Bodhi and Cleon. “Do you guys agree?”

Cleon shrugged. “I'm the odd man out here. I'm the only
one who's not marked, so I have to go with what you all think is safe.”

Amaryllis squeezed in next to Selah and looked at her with big eyes. “Do I get to go too?”

Selah hugged her. “Yes, you go wherever I go.” She'd figure out this little sister thing later when they all had time to rest and regroup, but at least the child wouldn't be alone.

“Treva, what about you?” Selah asked, holding her breath. The girl had grown on her, and she saw her good influence on Cleon.

“I'd like to be here for my uncle when his community starts. He's carried a huge burden, and I love him for it. He wrote in my letter that he always knew my father was a Lander, and he's protected me from the very moment they died. He knew there was a possibility that I could acquire the mark, but he never wanted to ask me about it, in case it didn't happen.”

“So does that mean you want to stay?” Cleon asked. His countenance fell as he slipped his hand into hers.

Selah knew he might elect to stay with her. How would she deal with leaving her brother behind?

Treva thought for a minute. “I guess we could come back after the town is built.”

Cleon beamed from ear to ear. “Yes, I'm sure we could do that. Couldn't we?”

He looked at Bodhi and Selah. They nodded in agreement.

Glade raised a finger. “We should head northeast, to the original colony I came from before I went south twenty years ago. We should be safe there.”

“Will the colony still be there?” Selah asked.

He reached to hug her. “Yes, the colony is called TicCity.
In the ancient world it was called Atlantic City, New Jersey. Unlike in the south below the Mountain, Landers are not hunted in the northern areas. There are large homogenized cities of Landers and normals just waiting . . .” His words drifted off.

“Waiting for what?” Selah pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

“Waiting for answers that I can't give them until I get back to my original work of searching for the old woman,” he said.

Selah lifted her head to look at him. “An old woman? Excuse me for laughing, but after twenty years she may be dead.”

Glade shook his head. “Not this old woman. She was among the first of us to come here. She's out there somewhere. I just need to get back to finding her. Besides, you'll get to be near the ocean again.”

Selah pulled back to look at him. “How do you know about my ocean?”

Glade smiled broadly. “I couldn't be with you, my child, but I've taken pains to watch over you all these years.”

She pursed her lips. “We really need to have a talk.”

Her father tipped his head to touch hers. “Well, we've got about a week's travel from here to the coast and then north. That should make me a captive audience to your questions.”

Selah's heart raced. A 150-year-old woman. What kind of journey would this new quest be? She dismissed the fear trying to creep in and allowed her emotions to soar. She had found her father and would get her ocean back too.

1

A
clipped sound echoed along the cavernous street as Selah Rishon raised her foot onto a stone bench. She jerked her head up to glance around the abandoned streetscape. This modern world of TicCity was strangely out of sync with the life she'd known in Dominion Borough. At home, the ancient cities were completely abandoned and mostly reclaimed by the environment, but up here in the north, the old and the new existed side by side, with the purposes sometimes overlapping. She was never quite sure what to expect.

A groan bounced from the facades.

Eyeing the landscape cautiously, she finished tightening her shoe and then stretched her calf muscle. She reminded herself that no matter how much she disliked exercise, it had a dual purpose—to rebuild the leg strength she'd found waning over the last few months of lounging here seaside, and to alleviate her current predicament. She had been informed
early on that walking around TicCity with knives hidden in her pants legs was completely uncivilized, so this regiment of training seemed like a great alternative to carrying kapos. In reality, she had an ulterior motive for staying toned and lean—like love . . . regaining what had been lost.

She switched feet, tightened her other shoe, and stretched her calf as she squinted into the waning rays of the evening sun hanging low on the horizon. Dramatic shadows sliced across the building facades, creating elongated, one-dimensional bogeymen. She shivered. It reminded her of the tree-shadow soldiers in the field at home where the dead body probably was planted. She pushed off at a slow jog down the broken, weed-congested street.

A shadow slid to the edge of the surrounding darkness in a doorway two building cavities away on her side of the street.

Selah stopped. Her chest constricted and her heart rate ticked up, pushing blood-rush starbursts into her vision. She squinted at the different shades of black, attempting to distinguish a face among the sprinkled flashes. Her brain deciphered the outline of a short club protruding from an overly thick hand, probably gloved. Her mouth went dry. She sniffed at the air. She could almost distinguish the smell. Sweat and vegetation mixed with musk and dirt. A male.

The black-clad figure separated from the darkness and lunged onto the uneven sidewalk. She inhaled to draw in calm and studied the shape and posture of the figure. A little taller than her five foot six. Broad at the shoulders, rectangular stance between legs and hips. Yes, it had to be a man.

Her heart pounded a staccato rhythm against her rib cage, drowning out her thoughts.
Control your
breathing
.

She turned to run the other way. Adrenaline surged, prickling up the back of her neck and across her scalp. Another movement whispered in front of her.

A second figure emerged from one of the numerous doorways, blocking her retreat.

How did she miss him? Not paying attention could get her hurt.

She pivoted and her back faced the street. No! Bad move. Another attack angle unprotected. She spun, positioning her back against the building. One assailant stood to her left, the other approached from the right. If she let them get close at the same time, she'd be done. Her legs trembled. She steeled herself for an attack.

A squeak. An audible click. The man to her left flicked open an auto-blade. He brandished the knife and lunged. Selah jerked her wrist up to block the attack but over-swung. Her hand accidentally connected with her own chin and she bit into her lip. The taste of copper heightened her senses. Selah balled her fists tight to her chest and thrust out her left leg, planting her foot in the man's stomach.

He doubled over as air expelled from his lungs with a grunt. The knife flew from his hand and skittered across the broken street surface. He scrambled for the weapon. Selah bounced to a defensive stance. Pivoting her hips to the side, she kicked at his middle, connecting with his chest. He collapsed to the road, gasping.

Emboldened that she hadn't suffered a blow, she bolted in the other man's direction. He raised his club and she assumed a fighting posture. As he swung, she blocked the downward motion of his left wrist with an upward thrust of her right
forearm. It rocked her core, stinging her arm. An adrenaline rush absorbed the pain.

His right fist jabbed at her head. She pulled to the right side. Her left leg shot out in a low kick and connected with the outside of his knee, knocking him off balance. As he started to fold, she maneuvered a hefty jab, shoving her fist into his nose.

Spittle flew from his mouth.

The man grabbed his face. “My nose! Why, you . . .” He cursed and released the club. It clattered to the ground.

She sprinted down the street, crossing to the other side. Her core buzzed with the electricity of rapid-fire movements and precision strokes. Her speed felt fluid and natural.

Pay attention. Focus. Focus, she recited until her breathing leveled off.

Stinging. She shook her hand, blew on her fingers, and examined them. Tiny smears of blood dotted the back of her hand. She had skinned two knuckles but just now noticed.

White AirStream at three o'clock. Someone in the pilot'
s seat.

This time she wasn't taking chances. She dodged behind a tree and used the street-side refuse container to hide her advance. She sprang from her hiding place and ran to the AirStream, creeping along its length to the front. With her back against the sleek side, she reached across her chest with her left arm and snatched the occupant out by his tunic. As he exited the cockpit, she jammed her right hand between his left arm socket and shoulder blade. She felt his shoulder separate and he howled in pain.

Lowering the man's center of gravity to throw him off balance, she drove his face into the narrow grassy strip at the edge of the sidewalk and planted her knee on his neck.

“All right, all right! I'm down!” With his plea muffled by the grass, the man fell limp.

“Okay, Selah,” boomed the speaker mounted high on the side of a nearby building. “Your session is done, and by the looks of it, so are my men.” The head of TicCity security chuckled.

Selah looked up at the tiny visi-unit mounted on the street illuminator and smiled. “Okay, Taraji! I think I may have broken Arann's nose. He zigged when he should have zagged. And Hex needs to lubricate his auto-blade. His prop's got a serious squeak.” She looked down the street and assessed her victims.

Arann, still holding his nose, raised his hand in a thumbs-up. Selah waved and jogged back to the training zone entrance.

A black-clad figure dropped in front of her. Selah recoiled as the hooded figure crouched like a jumping spider and charged. Selah blocked the charge and spun to the right, executing a roundhouse sweep. The figure jumped her leg and came in, fists flying. The two of them parried back and forth. Blow for blow, slice for slice, Selah felt her comfort level with the defensive moves increase with her speed and confidence.

A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She felt exhilarated.

The spider figure lunged, rolled, and swept Selah's feet from under her with one fell swoop. Selah landed on her back with a grunt as the air rushed from her lungs. The figure scrambled over her and pressed a glove-covered fist to Selah's throat.

“Augh! I surrender.” Selah threw up her hands.

The black-clad figure ripped off her hood. Taraji grinned at Selah. “Never let your opponent see your level of confidence, because they will use it against you every time.”

Selah shook her head. “I really thought I had you.”

Taraji held out a hand and yanked Selah back to her feet. “You would have if you hadn't stopped to grin at me. It made for a perfect break in your concentration. But your increase in speed is phenomenal. You're ready to move to the next level. I'll see you in tactical first thing in the morning.”

Selah watched Taraji saunter back up the stairs leading to the catwalk connected to her office, thinking someday she'd be as agile and stealthy as her teacher. But today she'd settle for this new lesson.

Breathless and sweaty, Selah entered the staging area on the backside of the security team training center. Mindful that she didn't have to hide it here, she peeled off the vibrant blue top of her workout suit, exposing the mark hovering below her collarbone. Her narrow-strapped cotton undershirt offered welcome relief as the suit top trailed behind her on the trudge across the equipment area to the ultrasonic-showers. What a workout! This ancient form of martial arts called Krav Maga that Taraji recommended was the perfect form of self-defense. But then again everything Taraji suggested seemed to be the perfect advice for the situation.

The woman reminded her of Mojica, head of security in the Mountain, from their singular names to both of them being six feet tall, with muscular builds, long dark hair, and beautiful large eyes with heavy lashes. The only difference—
Taraji's complexion was dark like the honey Selah loved for dipping her morning bread. If Mother had met her, she'd have said the woman was smooth as silk but tough as nails.

Selah sighed at the recollection. If only she could find her missing mother.