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Chapter Five - Ara

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We stepped out into the dawn, the morning air smelling of rain and wet earth. The guard took a moment to check Kaden's eyes, decided we weren't a threat, and nodded for us to follow him. Before we could, Kaden's hand landed on my shoulder. I turned to him in confusion as he pulled a piece of rope from his pocket and gestured to my hands.

"Trust me," he whispered.

As if I had a choice. Once my hands were tied, our small group followed the guard. The shed was in an old parking lot that was mostly empty except for a few abandoned airships, their shiny silver exteriors beaded with dew. There were also a few automobiles, but unlike the airships, their doors and tops were either rusted or missing. It wasn't until we passed by one that I realized this destruction was deliberate; there were planter boxes inside brimming with what looked like wilted tomatoes and some sort of squash. Across the expansive parking lot stood an enormous building framed with wooden pillars that looked like a giant hunting lodge. Faded cursive letters were etched above the entryway: Cabela's. I almost laughed; I was a prisoner at my father's favorite store.

An impressive fence topped with barbed wire circled the parking lot. Even in the early morning, men with rifles patrolled the fence. It suddenly made more sense why Jeb had run. No one would be sneaking in or out.

Sam talked with our guard while Kaden and I took up the rear. Halfway to the building, Issac simply went his own way. The guard looked as if he might stop him, then glanced at his broad shoulders and the hatchet strapped to his waist, and seemed to decide otherwise. Kaden called out to the men we passed, who smiled and greeted him.

Soon the pillars of the building loomed over us. Doors that had once been glass were now covered with metal sheets. Two burly, armed men guarded the entrance.

"Heard you were detained," the guard on the left said to Kaden. Detained. He said it so casually.

"Thomas, Brandon!" Kaden nodded to both men. "Good to see you."

"Anything to report?"

Kaden nodded to me, lifting the rope that held my hands bound. "Just a scrawny prisoner." The guards laughed at this, and my anger flared even as I stared at the ground.

The doors screeched open and we stepped into darkness. Before they slammed behind us, I saw another set of covered doors.

Frantically, I tried to remember the layout of the store. Father liked to go on his own, but once Mother made him bring Emma and me, and we had begged for fudge. He had let us wander the store, eating chocolate, while he went to buy some sort of old-tech gun up for auction. I remembered a tall ceiling with glass skylights, taxidermied animals, and a high ledge running the perimeter of the store. But the memory was cozy and warm; this place looked repurposed for war. I stepped closer to Kaden as the second set of doors swung open, and for just a moment, thoughts of escape disappeared.

There were men everywhere—a sea of life standing before me. Young men whistling and talking, middle-aged men cooking food. Even a few souls with graying hair, not quite old but the eldest I had seen survive. I could do nothing but stare. Part of me wanted to cry; there were so many survivors here, so much life here. It had been so long since I'd seen people just being people. The other part of me was terrified. Every step I took deeper into this fortress was a step further away from honoring my father's words. There are no such things as friendly men, Ara. Not in this world. Not for you. When they found out what I was . . . my throat constricted.

Kaden tugged on the rope, and I stumbled after the group. We followed a thin cement path through the store. Most of the original merchandise I remembered had been moved to make way for stores of canned food, and other supplies and equipment I didn't have time to examine. But it was the sheer number of men that took my breath away. They cooked over open fire pits, the smoke drifting up and out through one of the broken skylights. Other men talked and relaxed in camouflage chairs. Running around the perimeter was a high ledge that once had displayed cozy outdoor scenes of tents and other stuffed wildlife. Now tents littered the ledges, as well as clothing, chairs, plastic dressers, and coolers. I even saw a majestic-looking moose with several different colors of underwear hanging from its antlers. This must have been where most of the men slept, as I could see men in various states of undress climbing out of tents and preparing for the day.

Scenes of wildlife interrupted these pockets of life, the only thing from the original store that hadn't been changed. We walked by a boulder with four taxidermied wolves, so lifelike that I watched them warily.

At the back of the store, a mound of rocks stood against the wall, crowned with taxidermied animals, each holding a lifelike pose. The mound was North American–themed, with a cougar and a mountain goat locked in mortal combat, surrounded by chipmunks, deer, an elk, a moose, rabbits, and others. All animals I had seen, fought, or killed in the last three years.

Kaden forced me to the ground at the base of the mound. "Keep your head down, wait till I say."

A bell rang out, and men began to make their way to the center, gathering around us. The rope burned into my wrist as I tried to fold my hands and slip them loose. I looked up past the wooden railing and into the jaws of a snarling wolf and the empty, reflective eyes of a white-tailed deer. More and more men surrounded us. Again, I was forced to reconsider how many were here. Three hundred? Four hundred? More?

"Good morning, brothers."

The voice was calm and measured, and only seemed loud because of how the chatter died almost instantly. But what surprised me was that it came from above, at the top of the mound.

"Tomorrow we celebrate two years of formation," the voice went on. "As such, tomorrow will be declared an official holiday, and celebrated accordingly." Cheers went up at this. "Lots will be drawn for five who will work through half the celebration before rotating with another five." The cheers lessened.

"Work will proceed as usual today. But first, each unit leader will report on the week's progress. Kaden? Would you care to report? You are almost a week late."

Something about the cold way he spoke made me nervous. Blood pounded in my ears as Kaden suddenly grabbed my arm and forced me to stand. My eyes traveled upward, past the vacant eyes of the doe and into the eyes of the man standing atop the mountain. I was surprised. He wasn't a day over twenty-five, with piercing eyes as sharp as the stuffed falcon forever perched on the ledge beside him. Unlike the grubby men surrounding me, he wore a spotless button-down and his face was clean shaven, revealing golden-brown skin and neatly trimmed dark hair.

"We spent the first week on the far north side of the city, across the river," said Kaden. "There were reports from others about a strange creature in the flooded downtown. We investigated but found nothing. We also tried to get to the testing center, but the water was too high. We will need to return with kayaks. If we don't act soon, we could lose whatever medicine still remains there."

Kaden paused, as if reveling in the absolute attention he held. Only his tight grip on my arm said differently.

"And?" The ice in the other man's voice contrasted with Kaden's smile. The two glared at each other. The man's cold eyes swept to me. At first, I tried to hold his steely gaze, but it seemed that he dismissed me. Then he looked again. This time he leaned forward, the whites of his eyes growing wide. I stared at the ground, breathing fast.

He knew.

He knew and I would never escape.

"Kaden, who is this?"

"Glad you asked, Gabriel." With a sudden flourish, Kaden dropped the rope on my wrists, pushed back my hood, and let my baseball cap fall to the ground.

"This is Ara."

The silence that covered the building was so intense that the lone birdsong floating down from the ceiling seemed intrusive. I felt the stare of every man there like a physical weight.

Damn Kaden and his theatrics.

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by H.J. Nelson
@hjnelson
WATTPAD BOOKS EDITION "Ara . . . I made a mistake, we all did . . . g...
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