The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

Escape from Weywey Part 2

       

Liran wrestled with Thir, who was surprisingly strong and had this smug grin on his face the entire time. He wanted more than anything to pummel that look off his rat-face, but the bastard was slippery and capable. He couldn't gain the upper hand no matter what move he tried.

Suddenly, behind him, he heard Imorah scream, "No!"

He whipped around to look at her, and that's when Thir got on top.

Liran watched as Imorah slumped on the ground, as Dit'teh shot her. What on earth? He thought, just as the first fist landed on his cheek bone. He saw stars, and put up his hands, to protect his face, focusing on the fight again. 

Thir's next punch, landed between Liran's arms, but didn't reach its target. Liran took the opportunity and twisted Thir's arm, finally getting Thir to the ground under him. Thir screeched in pain, but Liran was merciless, energized by the sight of Imorah on the ground. The situation had gone from bad to worse, and his only recourse was to fight for his life.

Suddenly, he felt something cold against the flesh of his temple, and turned to see Dit'teh, her laser gun extended.

"Both of you are useless! Stop it right now, and grow up!" she hissed, her face a storm-cloud of anger. "Stand up. We need to get out of here before they arrive!"

Liran looked up without loosening his grip on Thir. The drones were literally almost above their heads. There was a ship with them—he could see it a bit behind in the distance. The thought of Amir passed quickly: the last time he'd seen that ship, Amir had set him free in the desert.

"I said, stop it, and stand up," Dit'teh repeated, clearly angry about being ignored.

Liran put his hands in the air, letting go of Thir.

Thir scowled, and rubbed his arm. "Jesus, Dit'teh, you couldn't have come a bit sooner?"

"What?" Liran asked, confused—he talked as if... and then it dawned on him. They were working together. He looked at Imorah, crumpled like a doll. "What did you do with her?" he screamed, looking at Imorah.

"She's fine! We don't have time for this," Dit'teh screamed back. "Both of you, pick her up and follow me."

Liran was dumbfounded. But the drones were closing in. He had no choice but to cooperate. He wanted to make sense of this—that Dit'teh had not betrayed him—but it didn't make sense. He stumbled over to Imorah, feeling queasy and light headed.

She lay almost lifeless on the ground.

"Imorah." He knelt beside her and picked up her hand.

"Come on, quickly! We can't be caught here in the open," Dit'teh urged. 

Thir came around to her other side, and knelt down to take her feet, but Liran stood up and pushed him hard. "Don't touch her!" he yelled.

Thir fell backwards, but shot up quickly, looking ready to fight again, but Dit'teh whispered something in his ear and he just scowled. 

Liran picked up Imorah's limp arm, and pulled her to a droopy standing position, then he knelt down to put her on his shoulder. He'd carry her by himself.

"What did you do—why did you do this?" he asked Dit'teh as he stood upright.

Dit'teh's face betrayed some sort of emotion, guilt perhaps, but she recovered quickly. "You just shut up and follow me," she said. "You asked for help. This is my help."

Liran didn't have any choice. The drones would be here in seconds. He followed Thir and Dit'teh through the empty camp, and didn't fail to notice that Thir had picked up Imorah's pouch, the one with the book in it, and carried it under his arm as he ran.

They arrived in short order at the workshed—a huge old structure, dilapidated and full of rusting hunks of metal. He'd spent a lot of time in this place as a kid, when he'd run away from home. That season he'd spent here in the camp fixing odd things for Paul. 

Thir pried open the old, heavy door to the shed, and they all shoed inside. The morning light slanted in revealing the dusty air they disturbed as they ran towards the back, Dit'teh in the lead.

"We can't hide in here," Liran muttered under his breath. "What the heck are we doing?"

On his shoulder, Imorah slept on, oblivious.

Liran's heart was pounding. Nothing made sense, but there was no time to figure it out.

The drones were overhead now. They might be seeing their heat signatures. This was hopeless—there was no way they could get away. What on earth were they doing in here?

They ran to an unused area in the back—a literal junk heap of metal. Dit'teh maneuvered her way around to the back along a narrow corridor of free space. She started throwing hunks of metal on top of the pile, creating a precariously balanced tower.

Thir went over and helped.

Liran just stood back and watched, totally confused.

"Put her down and help, you idiot!" Dit'teh screeched.

Liran woke up out of his trance. He placed Imorah gently on the dirt floor, and turned to the heap, and picked up a heavy pipe, and threw it on top.

"Not over there, you idiot!" Dit'teh cursed. "Over here. The entrance is over here!"

Suddenly it dawned on Liran what they were doing—there was some sort of... something underground.

Liran shimmied his way to where they were working, and picked up some metal. Above him, he heard the ship's thrusters preparing to land. They were literally on top of the camp.

"We're almost there," Dit'teh exhaled.

Liran grasped a rusted pole and gave it a tug, but it didn't budge. It was attached to something very large. He let that go, and tried another piece. Again, the same thing. It wouldn't budge

"Here, here, help!" Dit'teh said, heaving something up with all her might.

Liran grasped an end, and they all managed to open a trap door decorated on the outside with all manner of rusted metal—it blended right in. Liran would never have known it was a trap door.

"Liran, hold it." Dit'teh dictated. "And Thir," she pointed with her nose at the wall.

Thir used both hands to pick up a large, solid steel bar that must have weighed a ton that was sitting up against the wall. He let one end fall into a hole that Liran hadn't noticed near his foot. Then, he leaned the pole up and the trap door rested perfectly on it. He'd obviously done this many times before.

Liran felt his belly warm with anger—he'd been working with her all these years. The thought made him sick. She'd betrayed him and they were working as a team.

Dit'teh exhaled as she let go of the weight of the door. "Grab her and get down here, quickly!" She crouched and disappeared into the dark hole.

Thir followed behind, the bag with Imorah's book in his arm.

Liran maneuvered back over to the other side of the pile, and picked up Imorah. She seemed much heavier this time, but it was simply his own energy fading. He had difficulty picking her up, but managed, and even more difficulty maneuvering around the pile, but somehow managed.

He was just wondering how on earth he would lower her into the hole, when two pairs of hands stretched out—they would take her.

Liran hesitated. Would they close the door on him, he wondered. But he had no choice but to deliver her, so he did.

He watched as her body disappeared, and then breathed a sigh of relief when the door remained open. He leaned into the hole, and looked down, but it was black.

It couldn't be too deep if Dit'teh had gotten down there easily.

Just then he heard voices shouting far away. Praetoria.

He took a deep breath and jumped.