Page 131 of Beyond The Maples
"I just want to get this part over with, and get on the road," I give her hand a squeeze in agreement.
Berkley and Tarius are meeting us at the loading bays out front. Leo and Farra are going to steal us enough food for the journey, while Deacon and I go snag a few extra weapons, just in case things don't go well.
"Everyone ready? Take a second to go over your packs one more time, please," I suggest.
"Mae, we're ready. Let's do this," Deacon says, giving me an encouraging look.
It's just after dinner. Everyone will be going back to their dorms or heading out somewhere, so the halls will still be busy. The hope is that no one will notice one or two people dressed ready to go into the field, moving within the busy hallways.
We contemplated waiting another week, until we were going out on assignment. It would have been easier to slip away from the base, but even with my little promotion, thanks to the tower, we most likely wouldn't get deployed in theright direction. Or alone, for that matter. More often than not, crews are being sent out in two or three groups. Safety in numbers, and all that.
We make our way through the courtyard and Leo and I bump fists as we separate at the beginning of the maze of hallways. Farra gives me a tight nod. It's all I get before they disappear towards the mess hall. I glance over at Deacon, and we head in the opposite direction to where most of the weapons are kept. I momentarily curse myself for partnering with Deacon, and not Tarius. The man is near invisible and Deacon... well, isn't. But Tarius is going to secure the buggies, which will most likely be more difficult.
We slip into the armory, not an officer in sight. They're so confident in our compliance they don't even bother guarding this anymore.
I catch Deacon drooling over an ancient mace on the wall.
"No. Only what we need! That thing is useless," I hiss.
Deacon laughs as he whips open the ammunition cabinet, throwing a handful of boxes into his pack.
"Ya, but imagine how cool I'd look swinging that thing!"
I snort while scanning intently. I only take three smaller handguns, because there aren't that many here, and the longer we go undetected, the better. The rifles are an automatic "no", because we wouldn't even get down the hall with them. I look at the curved blades. There are some that are the same shape as Tane’s, both the same size and smaller. I stuff a smaller one in my pack. I tell myself it's not for sentimental reasons— that it's just the most practical blade for me.
I stuff several other daggers in my bag, and two slingshots. I'd rather have some bows, but again, we need to be discreet. Slingshots can knock someone out from a mile away, anyway.
"Ok, come on, let's go!" I whisper loudly to Deacon.
"Let's roll," he says, zipping up his bag. He's overstuffed it, and I almost laugh because I assume he didn't stick to our list, but there's no time to argue.
I open the door, step out and run straight into the chest of CaptainKethler.
"Going somewhere?" he drawls.
Every muscle in my body locks as my stomach plummets.
I can feel Deacon take a cautious step towards me.
"Just heading to tac training, sir," I say smoothly. I try to look bored—annoyed even.
Deacon steps around me, but before he can utter a word, two officers come out from around the corner, grins plastered on their faces, like they've just won a prize.
Kethler holds out his palm. "Pack," he spits at Deacon.
I ready myself to bolt. Our only way out is to run, but Deacon doesn't seem to have the same instinct, and hands over his pack without a fight.
"Deacon," I hiss at him, but before I can move, another officer to my right has my arms, yanking me away.
"That's what I thought," Kethler huffs, his moustache twitching as he throws Deacon's pack to another officer.
"Let's go," he yells.
The officers flank Deacon, grabbing his arms, and finally he seems to snap out of it, and begins to struggle.
"We'll take them down to the holding cells. I'll have to check with Councilman Morosse before we decide how to proceed. He'll be disappointed to know he was wrong about these two," he tsks, before roughly shoving Deacon forward.
This is the worst possible timing. My face feels hot. The lanterns on the walls are too bright, the straps on my pack dig into my shoulders. Panic overwhelms my senses, until I'm focusing on all the wrong things.
