Page 80 of Ashes of Gold
I nod in agreement, tucking away my shame.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TAAVI STICKS CLOSE BY,rounding up her people. Our group is slow, limping. Joshi’s pants are a shredded memory of what they used to be. The little girl’s ankle is probably sprained, but the fire in her eyes still flickers there. The Macazi are haggard, tired, terrified, but there’s some semblance of relief there too. The relief that comes with fighting beside someone for the first time. Understanding that you actually can rely on each other. That you actually are a team. I failed them by having us go south… but no one died, so I try to hold my chin up. But it falls.
We stick to the rural edge of the city, where we pass little shops and convenience stores. All closed or abandoned. Much less burning. The targets seem more selective out here near the island’s edge. Field and grass stretch out ahead of us, and in the distance, the moonlight glistens on choppy ocean waves. Bri keeps glancing toward the city, toward her neighborhood.
“If you want to leave, go check on your parents, let them know you’re okay, Bri, you can.” She’d been locked up too, for so long. I’m sure they’re panicked.
“My dad would try to make me stay,” she says. “And I’m here to finish this with you. Ride or death.”
I squeeze her arm in gratitude. The loyalty runs deep. I wonder where they’ve fallen in the war. Zruki are loyal. Is her family running out at night, burning homes? If they are, would Bri even want to know that? The way she bites her lip, I’m sure there are many reasons she doesn’t want to go home. Not right now. Not until this war is done.
Voices and a chorus of boots hitting pavement cut through the silence and my heart stutters. We hurry into a parking lot outside of some sort of food place to hide out as the people get closer. There are so many of them, from the sound of it. As many as us. I gesture for the masses to hunker down, but before I can get the instruction out, they’ve already pressed into a patch of trees behind the store.
“Ain’t seen ’em,” one of the Loyalists says.
I hold in my breath.
“Tucked tail and ran, I tell you. Something about him never sat right with me. That tattoo on his head never fooled me.”
Grag.They’re talking about Grag.
“I don’t know,” the Loyalist goes on. “Kez was saying they found some Loyalist bodies back behind Boklo’s. Just left there for dead. So Kez took his guys down to the track in the middle of the night, burned a whole block of Zruki units. Maybe they got Grag’s folks for deserting? Zruki, wasn’t he?”
“Probably, dumb enough.”
They laugh.
I look for Grag, but he’s out of earshot. Bri’s eyes meet mine and I reach for her hand. Those houses they’re laughing about burning. That’s where her family lives.
The marching stops.
“You hear something?”
I freeze, squeezing Bri’s trembling hand. Zora tilts her head in question at the footman marching by. I press my fingers to my lips and shake my head no. We can’t fight them right here, right now. There are too many of us injured. I hate them for what they’re doing. What their friends have done. But, in this moment, choosing not to fight makes us strong.
“No, did you hear something?” the guard says.
“Guess not.” The marching continues, but we hold still until every sound of them has long faded. Bri hugs around herself.
“They will pay,” I say.
She nods, but I can tell her hope is fracturing.
“Let’s go,” I say to everyone as they emerge from the trees. “We need off these streets.”
We stick at the store for a few beats until we’re sure the march is out of sight. Then we continue through the outskirts of the City, toward Central District. The skyline of buildings isn’t what it used to be in the distance, but the Chancellor’s tower is still erected in the center. It looms large, the closer we get, the later night falls. Before long we’ll be in spotting distance.
“Where’s the closest access point to underground?” I ask.
“About a mile up that way.” Grag points.
“We can do it,” Zora says.
“Shit, speak for yourself, a nigga feet is hurting.” Julius nudges me, digging for a smile, but I’m a melting pot of anxiety and fear. “I’m kidding,” he says, but no one breaks a smile. Eyes find me. Hundreds, it seems.What do we do?They’re asking. They’re depending on me.
“We push to the access point,” I say. “Once we’re underground, we rest up and head back out in the morning. I feel like I can hear their collective gulps as we trudge on.
