My feet scuff and scrape against the rough, hard-packed surface below me. A blindfold has been tied around my eyes and someone tugs on the length of rope attached to my wrists. I scowl as I stumble forward, annoyed at being lead around the desert like a pet.
The blindfold itches against the bridge of my nose. I raise my hands to scratch it and trip again when the person holding the rope tugs back forcefully.
I plant my feet and yank on the rope with all my might, grinning in satisfaction when I feel it slip from my captor's hands. The feet walking nearly soundless in formation around me draw to a soft silence and I can sense the various spears being gripped tightly.
"Take off my blindfold. I won't walk like this anymore." I tell them, thankful for the moment that I cannot see their hate-filled eyes crawling over me.
"It is not your place to dictate how we treat you, girl Miner." I recognize Rowan's voice to my left and swivel my head in her direction.
"You know that my name is not 'girl Miner'. It's Kay, and it is absolutely my place to demand that I be treated fairly by you. I have not made any threats and I am going with you willingly. Take off the blindfold. Now. Please." I say the last words with difficulty, feeling my shoulders tense.
No one says anything. Robbed of my sight my ears strain, desperate to pick up on anything occurring around me. Despite my frustration I am able to marvel at the Wasters' ability to remain completely invisible; their presence is encompassed fully by the desert surrounding us.
"For gods sake." I make a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan. "There's no point to me wearing this. I know we're still on the river. I know we're heading West. I know we've been walking for nearly two and a half hours which puts us eleven kilometers from where I left my friends. However, that information is completely useless to me since I haven't the foggiest idea how far from the City we were when we crashed, so can we please move past this pointless activity and get on to wherever it is you're taking me? Because honestly, at this point, I could not care less about where that happens to be."
Someone rips the rag from my head with more force than necessary and I curse, bringing my hands up to my face and scratching my nose furiously.
"Thank you." I sigh, lowering my hands and looking to Rowan. She stands a few feet back from me, her smooth face impassive. "That itch was driving me crazy."
She scowls and turns away, marching to the front of the group as the Wasters begin moving forward again.
The big Waster I dubbed Snake stoops to reach for the end of my rope and I jerk it out of his reach, meeting his black gaze as he glares at me.
"That's not necessary any more." I tell him firmly, raising my tied wrists and holding them out to him expectantly.
He raises one eyebrow and takes a step towards me, gripping my elbow. I feel my heart begin to thrum heavily in warning but force myself to remain expressionless, waiting as he reaches behind his back and withdraws my father's dagger.
With one clean swipe the rope is cut. I blink in confusion and look down, feeling my jaw clench in anger when I register that he has cut only the extra length of rope and left my hands tied together.
I bring my chin back up and shoot Snake an ugly look. He sneers as he makes a show of putting my dagger back in his belt before pushing me back into place with the rest of the group. My jaw is clenched as I trudge onwards, sensing that I've already pushed my luck enough for the moment. There will be another opportunity to get my dagger back from Snake.
We walk for several more hours. The landscape is eerily beautiful- the full moon painting the barren land and flattened expanse of river a pale blue. My eyelids grow heavy and my feet begin to drag, scraping loudly against the ground in sharp contrast to the Wasters' silent footsteps. Finally, when the river begins to curve South, Rowan leads us off of the hard-packed riverbed and back in between the dunes.
We walk inland for another half an hour before Rowan signals for us to stop. She crosses to a great sloped dune and runs her hand over the side of it, upsetting the sand there and causing small trails to cascade down the hill over her fingers. I wrinkle my brow, uncomprehending as I watch her reach her arm further into the sand. She suddenly pulls aside an earth-coloured fabric hidden below the surface, revealing a dark entrance carved into the side of the dune.
My mouth drops open and for a moment I forget to move forward. Someone, presumably Snake, shoves me and I fall back into step, staring up at the entryway as we pass beneath and marvelling at its clever disguise.
"Where are we?" I ask, my annoyance with Snake forgotten. My voice carries in the strange space, bouncing off the walls and low ceiling.
Snake grunts and gestures at the wall, bringing my attention towards a faded mosaic. It is a strangely familiar design; white lettering placed over a red circle. I squint in the dim light, concentrating on reading the worn-out signage.
"Pic dil Cir." I straighten and look to Snake. "What does that mean?"
His lip curls. "It means you must stop asking so many questions."
I roll my eyes and follow the group towards a wide staircase. My vision gradually adjusts to the dull light and I can make out the chipped and dingy tiles covering the floor and walls, their faded colour speaking of once being vibrant hues in red, green and blue. We descend single-file down the stairs. The steps are treacherously well-tread, as though people have been using them for hundreds of years.
I nearly stumble, realizing suddenly that we are inside of a pre-Burn building. The Burn and subsequent drought destroyed everything above the surface but hidden beneath, remarkably, this relic has managed to survive. Panic turns to fascination as I whip my head this way and that, gaping over the ancient artwork and craftsmanship. As we descend the low murmuring of many voices draws me back to the present and I straighten my shoulders, focusing on the back of the Waster in front of me.
We reach the bottom of the stairs and Snake grabs my arm, pulling me along roughly. We break off from the group and my head swivels, trying to take in everything around me. I don't know what expected to find once we finally reached the illusive Waster camp, but this underground village certainly wasn't it. We are walking through a tiled, low-ceilinged room, broken up by individual hand-crafted houses constructed of scrap metal. People move in and out of the roughshod huts, shooting us curious glances as Snake hustles me along.
Vibrant conversation echoes off the walls around us and the delicious smell of cooking meat wafts past my nose. A group of children linger behind us, their eyes stretched wide in fascination. This underground cavern, hidden so cleverly beneath an inconspicuous sand dune is actually the home of a vast community of people, every one of them cheerfully carrying on with the minutiae of daily life. Who would have thought that all this could exist just below the surface of the Wasteland.
Snake leads me down a back staircase. It is darker here, with only the odd torch to illuminate the ruins. Through the gloom I can barely make out a tunnel disappearing into the wall ahead of us. For a moment my heart catches in my chest and I prepare to fight in case Snake tries to drag me inside, but luckily we stop short in front of a narrow door. Snake pulls it open and a shiver runs down my spine at the sound of rusted hinges. An ominous darkness stares back at me from inside the small room, no bigger than a closet. Without a word Snake shoves me inside and I stumble forward, barely managing to catch myself against the far wall. At once the door slams shut behind me, coating me in an all-encompassing nothingness.
My breathing is heavy in my ears as I listen for the sound of Snake's retreating footsteps. Once he is gone I test the door, unsurprised when I fail to locate a handle.
Of course he wouldn't bother to untie my hands before locking me in here. I reach into the folds of my tunic and withdraw the dagger I lifted from Snake, grinning a bit to myself in the darkness as I cut the ropes binding my wrists. My skin chafes at the awkward movement but eventually the ropes fall away. I tuck my dagger back into my boot and lean against the wall, sliding down to the dirty floor and settling in to wait, thinking of Will and the other soldiers making their way back to Phoenix.
I hope that Will has enough sense to stay away and let me handle the Wasters here. My heart constricts at the memory of the way his handsome face twisted in anguish when I refused to let him go in my place. The ugly threat of guilt churns through me but I push it aside, rationalizing that if our positions were reversed, he would have made the same choice I did.
My stomach growls, echoing loudly in the silent closet. Sighing, I rest my head back against the cool tiled wall and shut my eyes, a wave of tiredness finally pulling me under.
The darkness is absolute. I blink my eyes open wide and search wildly, trying to focus on something, anything but I am unable to fixate on a single point of light. The familiar, heavy tread of footsteps shuffling behind me are followed by the soft sound of the whip swaying against Harmen's trousers.
I begin to shake uncontrollably, the manacles around my wrists rattling. I tug on the binds, a sob constricting my throat as the sense of helplessness begins to envelop me.
"Please, no." I try to beg but am incapable of speech. The footsteps grow louder, drawing closer. I twist and turn in place, desperately trying to catch sight of him, conscious that every passing moment brings the heavy darkness closer.
There is a sharp crack as the whip slices through the air before the lick of pain shoots up my back. A soundless scream tears out of my mouth, lost amongst the empty gloom.
There is nowhere to go, there is no one to hear me. The whip falls again and again, each lash ripping open my flesh and spilling my blood, over and over until I am nothing but shreds of a person.
There is no ending. No mercy. Only an eternity of darkness and pain. I want to give myself over to it; with every fibre of my being I want to give Harmen what he wants but there is nothing I can do. Harmen is dead and my body refuses to release me. Here in the darkness there is no escape.
A new pain shoots up my left knee and I am jolted back to awareness. I scrabble madly against the cold, tiled floor, knocking my limbs against the solid walls surrounding me.
My breaths come ragged and heavy as I fight to orient myself, a cold sweat soaking my skin. This isn't right. Why am I still in the dark? Why am I still locked in a room? Where's Will?
Great, wracking sobs heave through my chest. Think, Kay, think.
Slowly, bit by bit the pieces fall back into place. I am in the Waster camp. Will is safe. My friends are safe. No one is trying to hurt me.
Yet.
With great effort I manage to push the panic aside, collapsing with my head over my knees and drawing deep, steady breaths. I shut my eyes tight and imagine being back in bed with Will, him rubbing my back and whispering assurances. Eventually I am able to bring my heart rate back to normal and wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, momentarily grateful that there is no one here to witness my loss of control.
Get it together, Kay.
What was I thinking, going along with the Wasters? I can't handle this. I can't be underground, let alone locked in this miniscule room, I can't be in the dark, alone. If the Wasters don't kill me, the nightmares will. Luca was right; I am no warrior.
Some number of minutes or hours later the door screeches open, drenching me in weak torchlight. I rise gratefully to my feet and pull away from Snake when he reaches for me, striding purposefully ahead of him, my confidant stride betraying the dangerous current of anxiety still simmering just below my surface.
Once we reach the top of the stairs I reluctantly allow Snake to grip my arm and steer me towards a back room. We walk past the ramshackle shelters and I keep my eyes forward, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks at the curious glances following our progress. We reach the far wall and Snake nods to the two Wasters guarding an inconspicuous door. They wave us through, the younger guard tilting his head at me, his eyes puzzled.
The grungy room is small and contains only basic furniture. A heavy wooden table set with strange yet delicious-smelling food is laid out. Rowan, Luca and an imposing, unfamiliar man are all seated, their food untouched as they look up at me. At once, my fear at being held below ground is gone; replaced by an icy new trepidation.
Snake pulls a chair out from the table and a shudder passes through me at the sound of the ancient furniture scraping against the tiled floor. I sink into the chair gratefully, swallowing as my mouth waters. The spicy aroma is irresistible but I force myself to keep my eyes on the stranger seated directly across from me.
One glance and I understand implicitly that this man is both Luca's brother and the chief of this camp. Sitting next to each other the men look remarkably similar, with the same dark hair tied neatly into a knot and the same sharp eyes. Where Luca is trim and athletic, his brother is tall and broad. His wide face is expressionless as he studies me, his gaze unreadable.
There is something else, something in his bearing, his ramrod straight posture and the quiet dignity that sits across his muscled shoulders like a cloak that causes my tongue to twist in my head. I clench my jaw and try with some effort to keep my eyes level with his, knowing that in this room, buried some number of meters underground and surrounded by the deadly reverence of his Waster army it will be his place to speak first.
And so I square my shoulders and once again settle in to wait.