Rise of Order

Part 5

The tunnel was damp, cold, and dark. But there were no v-copters down here, no commandos, no more people to lie to. Only the sounds of our footsteps. And I could move around; every time we stopped, I felt like I had ants on my skin.

Wingate led the group, one hand on Macey at all times—not that there was any place to run. He had a flare in the other hand, illuminating the way ahead. The tunnel was straight, a busted MARTA subway track beneath our feet. There weren't any detours, and Wingate had sealed the way behind us.

Nia and Ace walked behind Wingate, while I brought up the rear. I'd got my viser back from Ace: it was almost eight o'clock. The walk was long enough for my adrenaline to settle down a bit, but my legs were fresh. I would have run ahead if I could have.

Macey turned back to look at me. I didn't make eye contact and she didn't say anything. Then she did it again, and this time she spoke. "Why?" Her eyes were red. She sounded genuinely puzzled.

"No talking," Ace snapped at her.

Nia answered anyway. "They are all Southies, Macey. I can hear it in their voices. Except for the one next to you—he sounds different."

"You think quiet doesn't apply to you?" Ace's hand formed an angry fist.

"Leave her be," I said. Ace's eyes flashed at me. I could almost see the sneer behind his bandana.

Ace leaned in close to Nia, his grip tight. "You're rich and we're not. We want your money."

Nia didn't flinch. "You don't kidnap Gregory Freder's only daughter for money," she retorted. "There are a lot of less dangerous targets. If you think this is about money you're in more trouble than I am."

Damn her.

"No more talking till I say so," Wingate said.

We walked on without further conversation, but Nia's words hung in the air. She was right, of course. It wasn't about money. Not for Wingate. Not for me. I wasn't sure what he'd told Ace. The stocky brute was dangerous; I remembered the sickening touch of those calloused hands. The hands of a man used to being in charge, used to taking. If he thought Wingate had lied to him, I wasn't sure what he'd do.

We came to an area where the tunnel had partially collapsed. A slab of the ceiling had fallen, splitting the passage in half. Twisted pieces of rusted rebar jutted out of the shattered concrete. Only the right side of the tunnel looked passable—barely. We'd have to squat. A trickle of filthy water leaked from the collapsed ceiling.

Wingate looked back at us. "We'll have to go single file. Don't get caught on any of the sharp metal—I see some on the ground as well. The med kit is back in the minibus."

He went through first. Wingate was the largest of us; he managed to enter the broken opening without going onto his knees, but it was tight. Macey hesitated before the dark hole.

Ace grabbed his stun rod and poked her in the back. Macey flinched, but didn't move. The rod wasn't activated—yet.

"Go," he ordered.

Macey took a single step. "I can't go through there." Her voice was a blend of outrage and terror.

Ace grabbed the back of her neck with his free hand and squeezed, hard. "Last chance, rich girl." Macey gasped in pain.

While Ace was focused on his prey, Nia seized the opportunity. Quick as a viper, her hand went for the pistol holstered on Ace's waist, but there was a safety strap holding it in place. Ace spun at her, the stun rod aimed directly at Nia's face. A normal person wouldn't have been able to get the gun and dodge the blow, but Nia wasn't normal. She was engineered, a so-called highborn. Old bloods like Macey made jokes about them: Sperm-shifter. Robo-babies. Freakazoids. There were a lot of other names. Most of the time, these supposedly genetically improved people were just as stupid as the rest of us. Or worse. But for some people the genetic manipulation was more successful—people like Nia, it seemed. She was what was to come. The process was getting better all the time; that's what my father thought, anyway.