“Alright fucker! How about we make a deal before I kill every st one of your men!”

  I awake in a cold sweat, reaching for Vince out of habit only to find the cold comfort of an empty bed.

  My eye tells me it’s early morning, and I’m not going to be able to sleep any more even if I tried. I sit up, my colr chafing against my neck. It’s not worth adjusting, it’s not possible to get it into a comfortable position.

  I throw on some clothes and get ready for the day. As much as I don’t want to, I take care of my hair. Just a little bit of normalcy will help us both. It’s been so long since I st dyed it, a few gray roots are starting to show their ugly heads. It’s fine, I’m not going to be able to fix it now, and it makes me look storied anyway.

  Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  I carry all my belongings on me. The first night I was here, someone tried to break in. He’s lucky I’m not allowed to carry ammo in town, and even luckier I’m not allowed to kill him. I could have tossed him off the railing into the water below, but given the height and his intoxication? I wasn’t willing to take that risk.

  I step out of my room, barely more than a repurposed closet, and into the still bright streets. Cameras instantly swivel towards me, my gracious host keeping an eye on me at all times.

  With the lid on the trench, most people’s sleep schedule is fucked. ‘Citizens’ scurry from shadow to shadow in an effort to get to their jobs without any of the drunken gangsters noticing them.

  The fuckers saunter around the pce like they own it, bottle in one hand and gun in the other. I’m not sure any of them even know what they’re running from, they’re too busy getting lost in whatever they can find. Mara has a little drug empire going on here, and they can find a lot. Marrow, Blur, Oblivion, it’s all rationed carefully to keep people using, but never satisfied.

  A decade ago I might have even thought I enjoyed living here, but now? I just have to pretend I can’t hear the dragon’s call.

  Apparently they had a Marrow shortage a few weeks back that wreaked havoc on a fair few people. I’m just gd Mara either doesn’t know or doesn’t care it was us who killed Seven.

  I make my way along the suspended streets towards the canteen, I need to make sure Vince eats before the day properly starts.

  Along the way, two men block the way at an intersection. Their eyes are distant, and tremors shoot through their bodies. I’m not sure what cocktail of drugs they’re on, but I’m sure I don’t care to hear whatever they want to say.

  I try to move to the side to get around them, only for them to step in front of me. I guess I didn’t get up early enough to avoid the assholes.

  “Hey! New girl!” One of the men yells far louder than needed as I approach. “There’s a toll for heading this way.” He’s so fucked up he’s barely understandable.

  I don’t respond. I can’t respond. I gave that up in exchange for being able to deliver Vince’s food every day. She thought it was pretty funny to let me see him more often, and not be able to say a single word. It’s not a problem for me though, I can get it fixed when Mara’s dead.

  I step around them, only for the dumbass to reach out and grab my wrist. I rip my arm away and keep walking. If I do anything first, Mara would just use it as an excuse to make Vince’s life harder.

  “Hey, bitch! I’m talking to you!”

  He’s not even worth gring at. I keep walking under his insults and harassment. God I wish he would actually try something, but no. He’s a coward and I can’t throw the first punch.

  Eventually I make it to the canteen in one piece. The pce is nearly abandoned, with dirty trays spread around. Three men are still here, scarfing food down as quickly as possible. I guess the storm must have ended, and everyone’s already been sent out.

  I grab two trays and head over to the chef, who sps two globs of some uniform brown crap onto each of them. Who would have ever guessed I would have missed beans? I’m halfway convinced the food is so bad to push people into getting hooked on what Mara’s selling, in a desperate attempt to make the slop edible.

  The prison is at the bottom of the trench, suspended just a few inches above the water, but it only takes around ten minutes of walking to get there. It’s held in the air with thick cables with obvious explosives installed on every hook. With just a thought, Mara is capable of sending everyone inside to a watery death.

  The entrance has a dozen turrets installed around it, with each and every one trained on my head.

  The thick metal door at the entrance opens on its own and I step inside. The turrets on the inside turn to me, and the door locks the moment I’m through.

  A long hallway extends in front of me with metal doors, each several inches thick, along both walls. I doubt even Cassie would be able to hear anything from behind them, even though I’m sure their inhabitants are far from silent.

  I can’t let myself think about her. She’s fine. She wouldn’t let something as simple as mother nature kill her.

  I walk straight over to Vince’s cell, and a small section of the door slides to the side, letting me see inside and giving me access to a small ledge to pce the food on.

  It opens to an empty room, with Vince cowering in the far corner. The terror on his face and in his eyes breaks my heart, but it melts away the moment he sees me. He forces a smile, and we both know it’s not genuine.

  Mara has shaved his head, and bruises pepper his body. The entire room is already disgusting, with only a small grate in the floor and no way to clean himself. He’s not even allowed to have a spoon to eat with.

  At least he’s still in one piece, that’s all that matters. And I’m going to do everything I can to keep him that way.

  Three days. I signal to him and pce the tray inside. I could only negotiate twenty minutes once a week with him, and that’s just supposed to be so I can ensure Mara is keeping up her end of the deal. That’s plenty of time though, melding together will turn that short visit into a day of relief.

  Three days. He signals back, and the viewing section of the door slides closed.

  I sit down with my back to his door and begin to eat. The slop is disgusting, slimy and bnd, but I guess it’s better than nothing.

  “Go to the garage.” Mara’s voice booms through the hall, far louder than it needs to be the moment the first spoonful touches my lips.

  Great. Guess I’m skipping breakfast. At least I’m not missing out on anything.

  I set the tray to the side and stand up. The door out of the prison opens as soon as I start to move.

  The only way to the garage is through an elevator that’s directly controlled by Mara. She’s paranoid, to say the least. I take a short walk to the center of the city and step inside the open cargo elevator. The door slides shut, and it’s a short ride to the top of the ravine.

  The doors open to a nearly empty garage. The few dozen cars that are normally in here are all gone, with just a few of Mara’s personal vehicles remaining. Our car has joined her personal collection.

  That thing has way too many memories for me to let it decay here.

  “What the fuck took so long?” Morgan stands in front of me, Mara’s right hand woman. Pure muscle barely constrained by body armor she seemingly never removes. Her eyes make it clear she will shoot me at the first possible moment I give her an excuse.

  I’d give myself maybe a twenty percent chance of taking her down, even with my twisted ankle, but then what? Steal a car and try to forget about Vince? That’s not possible.

  She knows I can’t respond, and I don’t bother to try.

  “Three shots were fired a few miles south west.” She turns on her heel and hops into an already prepared car.

  I point to my rifle as I climb in next to her.

  “You want a bullet?” She says disbelievingly. “Earn it.”

  What is she even afraid of me using the ammo for? It’s not like I can do anything without risking Vince’s life. Although maybe the goal is to get me killed out there.

  Part of the roof pivots downwards, creating a ramp to the outside. While it’s nice to be out of the trench, I just can’t enjoy it. Even if my life is easier than Vince’s, that doesn’t mean I’m anything close to free.

  The drive is silent, and not just because I can’t break it. I can see the animosity for me in every crease of her face, every subconscious twitch of a muscle.

  It only takes a few minutes to arrive. Morgan parks the car atop a dune, and I take that as my cue to climb out.

  A few gss shards and drops of blood speckle the sand’s surface. Two deep tire tracks were heading south west, but turn sharply to the south. That’s not an accidental turn.

  In the sand is a small path that someone has dragged some kind of fabric over. It's an amateurish, but effective way to hide the footprints of whoever did this.

  Unfortunately, they’re not perfect. Whoever did this was in a hurry, and fragments of their footprints are still visible. It’s trivial for my eye to take everything and reconstruct it. A heel that dug into the sand too deep, the side of a step that didn’t get swept away, a bare toe that kicked a small pile of sand behind them.

  Now who would be barefoot in the hot desert sand? Blue’s alive, this is undeniable proof. And if she’s still functional, Corax must be too. Plus, she wouldn’t need a car if Cassie wasn’t alive, she could just run wherever she needs to go.

  It’s a good thing my drug use has half paralyzed my face, it’s a conscious effort to get anything to move. I’m not sure if I could stop myself from smiling without it.

  They must have just stolen the car, the blood looks pretty fresh. I need to buy them time.

  I wave to get Morgan’s attention, and tap on the base of my shoe. She gives me a ft look, having no idea what I’m trying to say. That’s fine, every moment is another moment they’re getting further away.

  I crouch down and circle a small indent in the sand, followed by tapping my foot again.

  “Footprints?” She guesses.

  I nod, and point to the south west, in the direction the car was originally going. It’s following the tail backwards, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “How many?”

  I shrug. I don’t know

  “Go. This better be good.” She heads back to the car to grab a radio, and I start slowly following the footsteps, pretending it’s hard. I can hear her calling for a second group to follow the tracks, but that’s fine. That’s a few more minutes I’ve bought them, and I’m sure they’ll have an easier time with whoever tracks them down compared to Morigan.

  Morgan quickly catches up to me, slowly driving the car next to me as I walk. I burn Morgan’s patience as carefully as I can, going fast only when she gets too frustrated, and slowing down while I can get away with it.

  I waste a lot of her time.

  It’s well over an hour before I signal for her to stop. I point to a small cave in the mountain with more footsteps leading out than in. It’s certainly empty, and Cassie wouldn’t leave anything that could be traced back to them. It’s the perfect thing to give up to both look useful to Mara, and give them nothing of value.

  Even if I didn’t point it out, the car tracks stop by here before continuing on, they would have found it anyway. Unfortunately, those tracks have a matching pair beside them. Those three can handle one car, they’ll be fine.

  Sure enough, when I head into the cave, there’s no proof anyone has been here. That’s my girl.

  Morgan climbs up the hill behind me, stopping at the entrance to the cave.

  “What is this?” She asks, her annoyance threatening to boil over.

  I shrug and crouch down, drawing a line through the sand to emphasize the path Blue walked as if it means something. It turns out being mute helps a ton right now, I don’t have to make up some kind of lie about what I think happened here.

  “Get back in the car.” She practically growls.

  I hop into the passenger's seat, and Morgan spends a few minutes scouring the cave. Not long after, she returns to the car and begins to drive us back to the trench.

  I’ve done all I can, you three. It’s up to you from here.

  JanePtinum