Hope of the Future Page 6

  Ronin studied her closer than before. When they first met each other, he swore he saw her eyes flash a bright violet. They were so full of malice in that instant that she appeared older than normal. Normal being that she appeared in her upper twenties as most Amaranthines.

  The way Hope carried herself was far different from anyone he had ever encountered. The mask she wore was pure deceit. When she turned toward him that first time, her eyes weren’t violet. They were so dark, he doubted for a moment what he saw.

  Yet when Hope crept down the stairs, he moved into the adjoining room, then glanced around the corner when the floor creaked under her weight. The moonlight flashed the room once more so Ronin ducked back so she wouldn’t see him. He sensed something about the girl that not even Cayla understood.

  Ronin’s curiosity got the better of him, which may prove his downfall with her.

  When she went to turn the knob, still intent on leaving, Ronin rushed over and wrapped his hand around her arm. He jerked her back. In a blink, he relocked the door, and pressed himself between her and the door, earning a silent curse from her. Hope ripped free of his grip and retreated.

  “Answer me something,” he said, crossing his arms, hoping to intimidate her. Though he doubted this woman was easily frightened.

  Taking another step away from Ronin to maintain the space between them, Hope scowled. “Get away from the door.”

  Ronin ignored the threat. “Cayla says you can have children. True? Or is this a ruse to get her to help you?” He widened his stance, refusing to let her leave until she gave him an answer. Hope seemed ready to rip his head off, which amused him. She should try.

  Hope sighed. “You’re right. It’s a ruse. I can’t have children. I confess. You found me out. It’s the reason I’m leaving.”

  Smart. Not smarter than him. “I see. So I will ask it differently. Have you ever given birth to a child? Can your body create a child?”

  The moment those words left his mouth, Hope’s heart collapsed into despair and her bottom lip trembled. She still remembered the weight of her newborn son’s dead body. How perfect he was. How perfect he would have been when he grew up. Her hands burned with the memory and she curled her fingers into fists.

  Memories of the night her body had forced the baby from the womb overcame her. Alone and afraid, crying and miserable, filled with pain unlike she had ever known before, giving birth in a dark alleyway, blood surrounding her entire body.

  The memory remained forever fresh. She begged every last resource she had, to allow her that peace while she looked at that gentle face. Then Hope laid back to watch the stars twinkling in the sky, the droplets of rain struck her face and intermingled with her tears.

  Tears flowed freely while she prayed with everything she had left that the Old Gods people once believed in would remove her from this Earth. She begged over and over again, pleading with them to release her. Just once, allow it to happen. Let the Angel of Death take her into his sweet embrace.

  Hope had already suffered one loss that night. Her heart couldn’t take any more pain. She didn’t know how she crawled away and into the street, away from where her heart lay, lifeless and unmoving. Her body held out on instinct, and then everything was torn from her against Hope’s will and she went into full labor.

  A miracle happened that night.

  That was also the night her hope for humanity died, as well as her strongest abilities, the ones that meant she could survive on her own.

  Remembering the boy’s face who looked so much like his father, tore her open from the inside out. Hope’s eyes welled up and she whirled away from the cruel beast in front of her who forced those memories into existence. She swallowed before the tears grew worse, forcing the memory back into that dark place of non-existence, then cleared her throat and made sure her voice wouldn’t break.

  Hope lied with perfect brilliance, even convincing herself. “No.” The word was barely audible to her ears. Maybe it was loud enough to satisfy his curiosity and leave her alone.

  Ronin studied her. There was more to her story than she let on, otherwise she wouldn’t lie. The truth sat there in front of him. So why didn’t he say a word?

  “Baby . . .” Cayla’s soft voice echoed in the doorway, breaking their private moment.

  Cayla had been the one to find Hope. No doubt her own memories of that night overtook her. Of finding Hope lying there half-conscious in the alleyway of the building. It was a blessing for them both that Cayla had found her, instead of another.

  Cayla couldn’t do anything for the baby. The newborn was already dead and turning cold by the time she came across Hope. Hope was scarcely alive by then, but her genetic makeup and fate, had other ideas. The blood loss alone should have taken Hope’s life. She was weak at that point, but farther from death than either of the women thought.

  Cayla still prayed Hope would want another child. Hope had other ideas. She hadn’t planned to get pregnant, didn’t know she could, never had with Scott. Cayla thought she had two jobs: saving Hope from those who hunted her, and saving Hope from herself. Somehow convincing herself that Hope could be saved.

  What Cayla didn’t understand was that Hope had no interest in helping humanity anymore. Because of this world and their greed, she lost everything. If the world found out who Hope was, or rather what she was, it wouldn’t just be Hope’s life in trouble. Anyone else around her would put their life on the line. Hope would be dissected or chained, used for The Associates, and Darrok’s own desires, which weren’t hers. She would watch this planet burn in hell before that happened.

  Hope closed her eyes. A single tear escaped. She swiped it away before Ronin noticed.

  “Why can’t you let me go, Cayla,” Hope said, all but exasperated. “Why do you insist on helping me? I don’t want, or need, it.”

  “Hope, stop. Please.” Cayla grabbed for her arm when Hope shoved past her. “I understand the trouble you have in believing people can help you,” Cayla said. “That you can’t trust anyone, but I’m asking you. For me, don’t leave.”

  Hope mashed her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling again. She took a deep shuddering breath. The tears held for the time being. “Cayla, you cannot imagine what people are capable of. You don’t know what they’ll do to you if you try to help. Why would you risk that?”

  Cayla smiled that damned motherly smile at her, saying, “Because you’re worth it.”

  Hope shook her head, gritting her teeth, slamming down that wall again. “I’m not,” she all but growled out.

  Ronin continued to study her from the side. “Cayla seems to think you are. If you can have children, you would be.”

  Hope composed herself before advancing on Ronin. “I will never help this world. Don’t you get it? The world turned its back on me a long time ago, and wasn’t there when I needed it the most. I will watch them all burn in hell.” The threat in her words came clear. “They can watch each other die, knowing not one of them could do a thing to stop it. I would sooner die than help anyone else. I will never have a child. Ever.”

  “Hope, don’t say that. At least allow us to keep you safe. We can,” Cayla pleaded.

  “I’m tired,” Hope said. There was no more point in arguing. Cayla wouldn’t relent, nor would Hope. They had been at this for days on end. Two strong-willed personalities. “I’m going to take a nap.” Turning her back on both of them, she stormed up the stairs, back to the room she used.

  Staring after her for a while, Ronin finally asked, “What happened to her?” upon hearing her slam the door upstairs.

  Cayla chuckled. “You have fun getting that story out of her if you dare. I know how I found her. I can’t tell you anything else. Saying she’s private is putting it lightly.”

  “So tell me what you do know,” Ronin directed, moving over to the table. “We’re awake for the day.”

  Cayla nodded as she moved over to the sink to grab a large bottle of water. Then she went over to the small solar dri
p machine near the window. “I’ll start us some coffee.”

  While they drank their coffee, Cayla told him all about finding Hope in the alleyway covered in blood. Including the part about finding the newborn’s dead body next to her, “I’m not sure how she survived, to be honest. With the amount of blood I saw, she shouldn’t be here. That girl is a miracle. There’s nothing else to call her. A higher power was watching out for her. You can see the scar on her neck. Visible when you’re close to her. . . .” her voice trailed off.

  Ronin nodded in agreement, taking a sip of coffee. He grimaced. He preferred stronger. The solar drips never came close to a good old-fashioned coffee pot.

  Cayla continued, oblivious to his pain, and far too used to his complaints to care. “The girl had a blood trail out into the alleyway, but it was raining when I found her. By the time I tried to trace where it originated from, the trail had washed away.”

  “So you have no clue where she came from?” Ronin asked and Cayla shook her head.

  “What I do know?” she said. “Her instincts were to get as far away from that place as she could. By the time I’d found her, she’d lost so much blood. There was nothing I could do for that baby. If her body hadn’t gone into premature labor by—I’m guessing mind you—the stress? That baby would have survived. There was nothing wrong with it. It was . . . perfect. I buried it so nobody could find it. But I’m telling you: it was flawless.”

  “No baby is flawless,” Ronin cut in.

  Cayla took a deep breath, sipping at her coffee. “The mother inside Hope protected that baby. She risked her life to save it. I can’t imagine what that did to her to have her neck cut, go into premature labor, and then almost die. When I got there and found her, she was dead. Not physically. Everything died in her out there. Lost, confused, nobody on her side. You can see it. There’s nothing left. I hoped that by keeping her safe and finding a place for her that maybe she could heal. I’m not sure most of the time if she wants to anymore.”

  Turning toward the windows, Cayla added. “She lost something else out there, Ronin. I don’t know what. She won’t talk. But, she lost something else. Or someone. By the Old Gods, Ronin, I need to help her. I will give my life to protect that girl. She needs us. There are people who’d hunt her down to kill her, or dissect her. Hell, no telling what would happen if Darrok ended up getting a hold of her. She is the only woman alive who I know without doubt, can have children. Healthy children. This world needs her.”

  Ronin watched her with deep concern etched in his features. “But Cayla . . . she doesn’t want help.”

  Cayla observed the ceiling, seeing not a ceiling, but instead the girl. She blinked back her tears. “She stays because I ask her to. I think she wants my help, without knowing it. She wants someone to help her. She doesn’t know it. Unconsciously she’s screaming for help. For someone to remind her what love is like, for someone to be on her side faithfully.”

  Ronin let out a deep sigh, finished his coffee, and grabbed a refill. On his way past, he grabbed Cayla’s empty cup as well. He stared through the shutters, out into the yard. The sun’s orange yellow glow crept over the horizon, casting warmth to the dead world. “I’ll do what I can, Cayla. If that girl is going to stand there when someone tries to shoot her? I won’t run to get in the middle of it.”

  Cayla walked over and rubbed his back. “She’ll duck, Ronin. A deep part of her is fighting to survive. Her survival instincts are still the same. Trust me, she can still fight physically, and she would run.”

  Ronin turned and glanced down at her. “Yes, but when she starts running, will she stop so we can catch up is the question.”

  Cayla couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s the man I remember so well. Yes, she will. I promise you, she wants our help. She does.”

  Ronin could see the doubt on his friend’s face. He said nothing.

  NINE

  “WILL YOU GIVE HIM a chance?” Cayla pleaded as she sat across from Hope. Hope was getting dressed in front of Cayla. They were in the room that Hope called home for the time being.

  Hope paused and glanced at Cayla before pulling her t-shirt down. She eased the fabric over the ace bandage wrapped around her chest. The bandage that hid Hope’s second knife. She sighed. “Why do you trust him? He emits . . . hate. Hate for everything. You expect me to give that a chance?”

  Cayla’s soft laugh caused Hope to spin around. Hope shook her head, then reached down and strapped another slim knife to her ankle before tugging on her boots. Before she tied the laces, Hope adjusted the knife so it wouldn’t press against her ankle and cause pain.

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” Cayla said. “Ronin does hate everything. He doesn’t trust anything or anyone, including me at times. He’s had it tough.”

  “You used to be lovers,” Hope stated, giving her boot laces a final tug once she did the Seaman's Shoelace Knot. A practice she’d done for years to keep her laces from coming undone while she ran.

  “Something like that. Ronin is a smart man with a lot of connections. Most important? He’s someone that I trust one hundred percent. He can help. If you gave him a chance.”

  “I don’t have to trust him, Cayla.” Hope shrugged into her leather hooded coat and checked the pockets. There were knives and other small items to be used for weapons stashed throughout. These days she took no chances.

  It had been so long since she tapped into what she could do, she needed the weapons now. The last time Hope had ever touched her abilities was before the night her baby and true love died. After that, she never called on the power of the Earth. She closed those whispers down because they betrayed her. The slightest inkling of use and she suffered headaches or worse.

  Hope turned toward Cayla. One shoulder raised. “I don’t have to like Ronin. As you said: I only have to trust you. For now, I will. If he shows me any reason not to? And I mean, any small, miniscule amount, I will not stick around. I will cut Ronin’s throat, leave him for dead, and then you are on your own. I still don’t trust this idea of yours. There is no Utopia. Don’t you get that?”

  Cayla reached over and grabbed Hope’s bag from the bed. She stood up and held the bag out to Hope. “Stop being so optimistic.” Hope gave her a dirty look. Cayla laughed. Hope snatched the bag and Cayla added, “People may surprise you.”

  Hope snorted. “You’ve never seen what people are capable of. Life is headed downhill, not up. Amaranthines are nothing like humans. They have no heart. They don’t care. Amaranthines spend their days wishing for immortality. Something they will never have.” Giving a solemn shake of her head, Hope explained, “It isn’t something they want. Not really. They only think they do. Immortality is a false promise of better.”

  Hope checked the contents of her bag, then halted and raised her head. “By the way? I don’t appreciate you telling him.”

  Cayla’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I had to.”

  “Oh?” Hope asked, zipping the bag shut. She shrugged the strap over her shoulder and then head. After she adjusted the strap over her chest, she asked, “Did he put a gun to your head?”

  “Hope,” Cayla sighed out in frustration. “Why can’t you tell me what happened? Let me understand more of your story.”

  Hope moved over to the door, eager to leave the room, and the conversation. She squared her shoulders. “One, I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way.” She ticked off the numbers with her fingers. “Two, I still don’t trust you completely. Three, I’ll never tell anyone.” Hope opened the door before looking back at Cayla one last time. When she did, her eyebrows rose. “Are we going, or are you going to continue to lecture me? Perhaps give me the third-degree some more?”

  Cayla glanced in the rearview mirror. Hope was fast asleep, peacefully settled in, and curled up on the bench seat. A second later, her body twitched and twisted. Her eyelids fluttered—deep in REM sleep.

  They were on their way to meet up with a man named Greg, who Ronin said could get them false papers for the next che
ck-stop. The three of them had plans to leave the zones closest to Darrok, and get out to a place far from Darrok’s reach, the former New York area. From there they would arrange transport on a ship that brought supplies back and forth across the ocean, and on the rare occasion, people.

  Ronin had connections who could falsify documents that would ensure safe passage for the three of them across the sea. To an area where Darrok wasn’t as powerful: formerly England. Now Zone Zero.

  Most humans didn’t risk crossing the ocean in anything more than a ship. The storms at sea came with frequent ferocity now, and the sharks had become the size of whales. Sharks that didn’t hesitate to attack a ship that dared cross their hunting ground.

  After a quick glance to Ronin, Cayla returned her attention to Hope. Keeping her voice as quiet as possible she said, “I hope this isn’t a bad one.”

  “What do you mean?” Ronin kept his voice low as well, and peered at Cayla through the corner of his eye.

  In the rear seat, Hope grew more animated than before. As if in response, the steering wheel shook. Ronin tightened his grip on the wheel. It was a wonder the car continued to drive over the dilapidated road. They would need a new vehicle soon. Ronin had worked most of the morning to get the station wagon started, which set them back, and pissed him off. Patience wasn’t a strong suit of his.

  Indicating the girl in the mirror, Cayla said, “She has bad nightmares. I mean, bad.” Hope’s twitching grew worse and soft mewling came from the back seat. Cayla knew what came next. “I better wake her up.”

  Ronin agreed. “I don’t need her screaming and attacking me.”

  Cayla smirked and shook her head.

  The man leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips. His mouth was ice cold. The Grim Reaper came to collect. “We could’ve had a lot of fun together. . . .”