Revenge Read online

  Albert pulled his hand away and glared at Fortinbras. “Promise?”

  “I promise we’ll do everything we can. I don’t like what’s going on any more than you do.”

  Corday stood. “How about we go to Tina’s and get a sandwich. Albert can tell us everything he knows.”

  At the cantina, Albert glanced around the rustic little restaurant. He held back a grin that played at the corners of his mouth. This was probably the first time the boy had been inside a business without plans to grab some food and run. The place wasn’t crowded. The wooden tables and chairs were plain, and the concrete floor riddled with cracks, but everything was clean and the food good. They sat at one of the tables, and Corday waved to Tina’s teenage son, who scurried over to their table.

  “What can I get you?” Daniel asked, giving Jo a side glance. When their eyes met, she frowned and turned her head away.

  “Lemonade all around,” Corday said. “And something for Albert. He’s hungry.”

  “Albert, do you like sandwiches and potatoes?” Daniel asked.

  “I ain’t never had a sandwich, but taters sounds good.”

  Daniel pursed his lips thoughtfully before saying, “A sandwich is some very tasty meat between two pieces of bread. If you can’t eat it all, I can wrap it up. You can take it home for later.”

  Albert’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Corday.

  “Is a sandwich and taters okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Good choice,” Daniel said. Before leaving to make their order, he tried one more time to catch Jo’s eye, but she steadfastly refused to glance his way.

  “Okay, Albert, time to tell us everything,” Archangel said.

  “I didn’t see who took me oldest brother. No one saw. He just vanished. He wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t leave us.”

  “Sometimes people just leave,” Jo said.

  “Jake didn’t leave.” Albert’s voice accused her of thoughtlessness. After frowning at her for good measure, he continued, “Two Legates grabbed Samsung. Me and Lily and Meg, we done threw rocks at them. We tried to follow them. The big man put Samsung over his shoulder and ran. The other one came after us. Lily and Meg is both smaller than me. So we ran for our lives.”

  “What did the men look like?” Fortinbras asked.

  “Big, not as big as you, but big,” he said glancing at Fortinbras. “With mean eyes. They had those.” He pointed to the Legate insignia on Fortinbras’ shoulder. “But they didn’t dress as nice as you. They looked kinda like roamers, you know those that hates townies.”

  “Nomads,” Jo said.

  The boy nodded.

  A young female server brought each of them a tin cup full of lemonade and left the pitcher on the table.

  Albert gulped down his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty hand. Corday poured him another cupful. Daniel arrived with a large sandwich and fried potatoes. Setting the plate on the table, he sauntered away, making a point to ignore Jo, who glared after him.

  Archangel showed no interest in Albert’s story. He sipped his lemonade and glanced around the room.

  “Go ahead and eat,” Corday said. “What do you think?” she asked, glancing at Fortinbras.

  “There are plenty of Legates in town that we don’t know. They don’t dress like nomads. Why would Legates take kids?”

  Corday shrugged.

  “Maybe they ain’t . . . I mean, maybe they aren’t all like you,” Jo said.

  Archangel leaned toward Corday. “They aren’t Legates. There might be some scruffy looking Legates, but we all follow the code. You don’t get through the academy unless you’re committed.”

  He was right. They might not like their town overrun with outsiders, but all Legates followed the same code of honor. Even Akbar, who came to enforce martial law after an attack two months ago, followed the code. Fortinbras didn’t agree with Akbar’s interpretation of how things should be run. As far as he was concerned, the patrolling, the curfews, the picky rules, and the endless checkpoints weren’t making people feel safer, nor were those things stopping the kidnappers. People murmured that Orange Hope was becoming a prison. The lady from Los Angeles would probably agree.

  Between huge bites of potatoes, Albert gave them the exact location of where his brother had been taken and the direction the men were going. The problem was that area was unsettled, overgrown, and wild. At the edges of town, nature and decay claimed old buildings and anything else left in its path. According to the boy’s description, the men were leaving Orange Hope. Once out of the area, they could go anywhere. Three days was an enormous head start. Plus their trail was probably lost. They might be able to track them, but Fortinbras didn’t think the kidnappers would wait around to be found.

  Archangel leaned back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling. He’d made up his mind about the boy’s story. On the other hand, Corday hung onto Albert’s words as if solving a puzzle. Fortinbras was convinced the kids were long gone, which wouldn’t stop him from going after them, but he didn’t want to leave on a hunt right now. One moment he thought the missing children were the most important issue. Then the next moment, lifting martial law, getting Akbar out, and getting his town back to normal seemed more pressing. What was more urgent? The missing kids or getting the Legates out of his town? He wanted both but couldn’t do both at once.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Corday said. “They’re gone, and we shouldn’t leave. But Fort, the kidnappings have been going on for weeks. If it’s been weeks, and they’re still taking children, they haven’t left. They’re still here.”

  “Yeah,” Jo said.

  “Yes,” Fortinbras corrected.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” Jo said.

  “And I knows where they be keeping the prisoners,” Albert said.

  Archangel sat up, his chair legs thumped on the concrete floor. He leaned over the table toward Albert. “What prisoners?”

  “You know, the folks you be puttin’ in jail.”

  “Shit.” Archangel glanced at Fortinbras, his eyes narrowed into slits.

  “What are you talking about?” Corday asked.

  “The prisoners,” Jo said, rolling her eyes at Fortinbras. “Like the lady at the market said, grown-up people are missing. He’s talkin’ about all them people Legates have been taking away from their homes. Sometimes I don’t think you three know nothin’. You’re all busy talking about making the town better, while your pals are locking everyone up. I tried to tell you, but—”

  “That’s enough, Jo. Where’s this jail?” Fortinbras asked.

  Jo huffed, crossed her arms, and opened her mouth to speak. Archangel put his index finger to his lips and shook his head.

  “Speak up,” Archangel said to Albert.

  “Uh, it’s hard to explain. It’s hidden. I can show you, but I ain’t goin’ near that place.”

  “Take us close and point the way,” Corday said.

  “Could this be where the missing children are?” Fortinbras asked.

  Albert shook his head. “Naw, this is different. Way different. Big people are scared. Scared to say anything. Scared they’re gonna get gone.”

  Fortinbras took a few seconds to let the shock and anger of Legates’ jailing people sink in before he stood. He didn’t like what he was hearing, but a little jolt of hope energized him. Maybe they had some physical evidence to present to the Council. If Akbar were locking people up, finding a prison would be proof.

  How could the man pull this off without their hearing about it until now? It didn’t make sense. And why were people too scared to say anything? If this story were true, imprisoning people would be more than enough to get rid of Akbar. The problem was Fortinbras couldn’t imagine the headmaster of the Legate Academy locking citizens up. He’d be breaking several Legate codes. His gut told him Akbar probably wasn’t responsible, but Fortinbras wasn’t above using the situation to get rid of Akbar. The man was responsible for the out-of-town Legates as well as law and order. This was proof he wasn’t handling things well. If this lead panned out, he could prove Akbar’s policies were faulty.

  He pushed aside his excitement, telling himself to take it slow and get the facts before he jumped to conclusions.

  2

  What Albert Knows

  Fortinbras, Jo, Corday, and Archangel followed Albert, letting the frightened boy lead them across the Wasteland District. As they moved farther away from the cantina, the boy glanced around as if he expected a mountain lion to attack. As they neared the boundary of the district, he inched closer and closer to Fortinbras.

  When they reached the edge of the town, Albert stopped and stared into the overgrowth that spread before them. His back stiffened, and he reached for Jo, grabbing her arm.

  Fortinbras watched as the boy protectively pulled Jo closer. He had good instincts.

  Albert’s apprehension was understandable. The area beyond the Wasteland was a vast jungle of overgrowth, crumbling buildings, vermin, and wild animals.

  The towns people avoided the area. An abundance of spooky stories frightened the children of Orange Hope. People whispered about hauntings, demons, vicious animals, and human as well as inhuman predators.

  Fortinbras exchanged glances with Corday and Archangel. Albert seemed a lot more afraid than a few old myths would elicit. The boy took a deep breath and led Jo into the overgrowth. Following the children, Fortinbras unsnapped his holster, and Archangel slipped his bow into his hand. Corday winked and nodded. Dangling at her side was a medieval flail, a long wooden handle with a heavy chain that supported a spiked ball, her handmade weapon of choice. She took going medieval literally.

  About a hundred yards beyond the town’s limits, they found four well-worn paths leading in different directions. Albert stopped at the juncture of the intersecting paths. He pointed to the trail going northwest.

  “That one. I ain’t going no further. That way leads right to the jail.”

  With a nod to Fortinbras and Corday, Archangel slipped into the overgrowth and vanished. While Corday kept Albert occupied asking questions, Fortinbras took Jo aside.

  “Find out where he lives so I can find him later. Then go home and wait for us.”

  “He ain’t . . . He won’t like you knowing where he lives. And I don’t wanna snitch on him.”

  “If we are going to find his brothers, we have to know where to find him. You’re the one who promised we’d help him. That means you have to do what’s best for the job.”

  She glanced up and nodded, her expression telling him she didn’t like to spy on her friend. He’d never forget how a similar look had accused him when he’d first met her two months ago. This girl with eyes too big for her gaunt face had wormed her way into his life. She’d won him over with her bravery and awoke his need to hammer together a family. Now her face was filled out, and her trim body looked healthy, but those eyes still grabbed his attention.

  “I had Daniel make sandwiches for his family. You make sure to go by there and get the food for the little ones. Then go home and stay there. I want you safe. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Albert, come here.” Fortinbras waved him closer.

  “Yeah?”

  “You and Jo go back. But I want you to do one thing. Take that nectarine back to the vendor. Tell her you took it.”

  He hung his head.

  “How many in your house?” Fortinbras asked.

  “Me and three others. Two more if the others come back.”

  “You the oldest?”

  He threw his shoulders back and stood up straighter. “I am now.”

  “Then you give the nectarine back. Tell the vendor if she lets you keep it and gives you three more, you’ll help her pack up her stall. Then, you do the best job you’ve ever done. Got it? Can you do that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Fortinbras watched the two scurry back toward the Wasteland District.

  “They’re going to need more than nectarines,” Corday said.

  “Yeah, I know. We’ll figure that out later.”

  Returning as quietly as he’d left, Archangel stepped back into the clearing.

  “It’s not far from here. A big building. They cleared around it a bit, but not enough to make it stand out from the air or be noticeable if someone wandered past.” Archangel pushed several strands of hair away from his face and pressed his lips together.

  “What?” Corday asked.

  “They’ve been there awhile. I have a bad feeling about what we are going to find inside. Two guards on the outside. I spotted at least three others inside. They are wearing our insignias. If they’re Legates, I’m a cow.”

  “You got a plan?” Corday asked.

  “Yeah, we’ll take the trail I just made, sneak up on them. Then kill them and free the prisoners,” Archangel said.

  “If we capture them, we can question them,” Fortinbras said.

  “You like to ruin all my fun,” Archangel said.

  “How about we just walk up and talk to them. They’re pretending to be Legates. They might try to convince us,” Corday said.

  “Because I really want to kill them or at least punch them in the face. I think there are a lot of people inside. It’s a big building.”

  “Let’s try Corday’s plan first,” Fortinbras said.

  They walked about forty yards before coming to the decaying building. The two guards came to attention as soon as they rounded the bend in the path. One man was tall with broad shoulders and a thick neck. The other man was younger, slim, and short. Their new, still clean Legate patches showed prominently on their left shoulders. If they were Legates, they were the most unkempt Legates Fortinbras had ever seen. Dirty and bedraggled were kind words to describe them.

  The men, cartoonish actors in a bad play, raised their rifles. Undecided on who to aim at, they wavered between Fortinbras and Archangel, mistakenly dismissing Corday, a deadly cobra disguised as a petite woman.

  “Stop right there,” the big dark-skinned man shouted.

  “No need to point those guns at us,” Fortinbras said.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Well, that’s just what we were going to ask you. We are Orange Hope Legates. And you?”

  The younger man lowered his rifle and grinned.

  “I heard of you. Look out for a huge black man, they say. Fortinbras, right? This here’s Jake. And I’m Rufus. We’re Legates, too. From the North.”

  Archangel grinned his “you’re an idiot” grin. Legates didn’t have names like Jake or Rufus. When a Legate turned fourteen, he or she chose a name from a historical or fictional person or an animal that represented who they were or who they wanted to become. They ignored Rufus’ faux pas and moved toward the guards.

  “From the North?” Corday walked forward.

  Rufus glanced at Jake.

  “From Washington that used to be a state.” Jake turned his head and spat. “Akbar brought us here.”

  “Ah, from Spokane,” Archangel said.

  “Yeah. What are you doing here?” Jake asked.

  There wasn’t a Legate Academy in Spokane. Spokane was a ghost town. The whole area was still toxic and uninhabitable. Fortinbras gave up playing their little game and marched toward the men. Following his lead, Corday and Archangel moved forward.

  “We came to inspect this jail. It’s unauthorized, and we’re here to find out what’s going on.”

  “Stop right there,” Jake shouted raising his rifle again.

  Without missing a beat, Fortinbras took two steps, yanked the rifle from Jake, and slammed its butt into the side of his head. The man managed to raise his arm before crumbling to the ground. Corday grabbed Rufus in a neck hold. Archangel picked up the young man’s rifle.

  “Keep quiet, and I won’t kill you,” Corday whispered.

  “I was the one who wanted to hit someone,” Archangel said.

  “There’s probably someone inside you can hit,” Fortinbras said.

  Archangel wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “The rest are mine.”

  Fortinbras used Jake’s belt to tie his hands and the twine he always carried in his duster pocket to bind the man’s feet. A large section of cloth ripped off Jake’s filthy shirt served as a gag.

  Concrete evidence cheered Fortinbras. He wouldn’t have to rely on a gut feeling to explain himself to the Council. Jake had mentioned Akbar, which could prove irrevocably damaging. On the other hand, contemplating what they might find inside worried him.

  He glanced around, these people had gone to a lot of trouble to hide this prison, but the building was a ruin and definitely unsafe. The noise they made taking the guards down should have sent more guards out to investigate. Since no one came, either there weren’t more guards or they were careless. He guessed careless.

  Fortinbras stepped into the dingy building. The contrast of the bright sunlight and the darkness inside the building blinded him for a few moments. His nose, on the other hand, worked just fine. The stench of decay, mold, and human excrement assaulted his senses. He pushed back the urge to cover his nose and willed his stomach to ignore the stench.

  Archangel tapped him on the shoulder and slipped past.

  He watched his friend crouch and move with catlike stealth down the long hallway where two more guards stood by a glassless window, chatting and laughing.

  Behind him, Corday held her pistol to Rufus’ head.

  “How many guards? Nod to tell me how many others,” she whispered, watching Archangel.

  He nodded once.

  Where was the third one? If that guard was as lackadaisical as these two, he wouldn’t be a problem. Fortinbras waited for Archangel to get a few acts of violence under his belt before looking for the fifth person.

  3

  The Prison

  Two torches made from thick metal rods and tree limbs wrapped in oil-soaked cloth provided dim light in the dank hallway. Ahead of them, Archangel would have looked like a shadow, except for his white hair. The two burly guards gazed out the window unaware of their danger.