A cold breeze blew across Liz's neck, rustling the branches above her head. She picked up the pace, eyeing the lengthening shadows. She was close to home now, the path familiar beneath her feet, but it was a steep climb and she had no wish to attempt it in the dark.
The forest was eerily silent, the usual evening chorus of birds and insects mute. It put her on edge, and her eyes scanned the scraggly trees neighboring the path, seeking danger. Their dense branches shifted with the wind, but otherwise there was no sign of movement.
She moved on.
Behind her, the path wound down through the forest. The mountain on which their homestead perched stood alone amidst the Californian floodplains, looking out across their broad expanse. All around the rock were the lands of the Flores family—or at least the lands they managed. Once they'd been theirs, but no longer.
Liz smiled as she approached the final bend in the track. The house was only a thirty-minute walk up the mountain, but she was glad to see the end of it. It had been a long journey from San Francisco.
The trees opened out, revealing the homestead sitting at the trail's end. Liz listened for the first shouts of welcome. Her family employed a dozen laborers on the property, and most were like family to her.
Silence.
Liz shivered as she closed on the homestead. Her eyes flickered around the collection of buildings, searching for movement, for signs of life.
It was only then she saw the bodies.
They lay strewn across the ground, torn and broken, their faces grey and dead. Blood splattered the walls nearby, streaked across the peeling paint. She looked over the bodies, lingering on their faces. There was Nancy, the old woman who had helped raise her, who had cooked meals while her mother helped in the fields. And there, Henry, the man her father thought of as a brother.
Standing amidst the carnage, Liz turned to the building she called home. Without thinking, she started towards it. Her movements were jerky, her breath coming in desperate sobs. Reaching the old wooden door, she pushed it open.
It swung inwards without resistance, revealing the wreckage within. Swallowing a scream, Liz staggered inside, taking in the shattered plaster walls, the torn-up floorboards. Dust and rubble lay strewn across the floor, mingling with the blood pooling at the end of the corridor.
Barely daring to breathe, Liz stepped inside the house. With cautious footsteps, she slid down the corridor, her eyes fixed on the blood. She winced at each soft thump of her boots, the sound impossibly loud in the silent house.
The corner neared. In a sudden rush, Liz darted forward, desperate to see…
Liz screamed and threw up her arms, tearing herself from the nightmare. Her eyes snapped open, but absolute darkness blanketed her, and she screamed again, thrashing against the tangle of covers wrapped around her. She rolled, slamming into the safety bar. It groaned and gave way, and suddenly Liz was falling, a final scream tearing from her throat…
Thud.
Agony lanced through her arms as she struck the concrete. The last tendrils of the dream fell away, plunging her back into reality—and the pain that went with it. She groaned, her throat burning as it pressed against the cold steel of her collar.
"What?" a voice shouted, somewhere in the darkness.
"Who's there?" someone else yelled.
"Liz?" She recognized Chris's voice.
Above her, Chris's bunk rattled. Then hands were reaching for her, grasping her shoulder, pulling her up.
"Are you alright?" Chris's voice came again.
Half in shock, Liz couldn't manage more than a nod. Distantly, she was surprised at the tenderness in his words, his sudden concern. A second later, she realized he could not see her nod. Opening her mouth, she managed a croak: "Yes."
As sanity slowly returned, embarrassment swept through Liz. She closed her eyes, silently berating herself for her panic. It had been so long since she'd had the dream—months, maybe even a year. Why had it returned now, after all this time?
"What happened?" Sam's voice was heavy with sleep.
"Sorry," Liz murmured, her heart still racing. "Just a bad dream."
"Some bad dream." Ashley's hand settled on her shoulder. "Go back to bed, Sam. You need your beauty sleep."
A string of inaudible mumbles came from Sam's bed, but was quickly followed by snoring.
Arms shaking, Liz pulled herself up, helped by Chris on one side, Ashley on the other.
"It's okay," she murmured and then suppressed a groan.
Her throat was aflame, throbbing with each beat of her heart. She tried to swallow, but it only made the pain worse. The steel collar dug into her swollen throat. Gasping, she fought for breath.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked in the darkness.
"My throat," Liz gasped.
"Water." Somehow, Chris understood. "Ashley, help me get her to the sink."
Sharp pain sliced Liz's shin where she'd landed as she tried to take her weight. With a silent moan, she collapsed against her friends. To her right, Ashley swore as the shift in weight sent her stumbling into the bed. Then she straightened, getting her body beneath Liz's shoulder, and helped her the few steps to the sink.
Liz slumped to the ground as Ashley released her. The sound of running water followed, while Chris helped her to sit comfortably.
"Here," Ashley whispered. "Open your mouth, Liz. The water will help."
Liz obeyed as Ashley fumbled at her face in the pitch-black. She almost lost an eye before Ashley finally found her lips. Cool water dribbled into her mouth, trickling from the palm of the girl's hands. Swallowing slowly, Liz sighed as the cold spread down her throat.
Ashley repeated the procedure three more times before Liz's breathing eased. At last she croaked for them to stop, and they settled together on Ashley's bed.
"How are you feeling now?" Ashley whispered.
In the other bed, Sam was still snoring. Listening in the darkness, Liz found herself jealous of the boy's ability to sleep through anything. She desperately needed the release of sleep, to escape the pain of her beaten body. But she knew it would not come now, not after the dream.
"I'm okay," she breathed. "You should go back to sleep."
A soft chuckle came from the girl. "My bed's a little crowded now. It's okay, I think the lights will turn on soon."
Her words were met by a distant clang, followed by a low buzzing in the ceiling. Liz blinked as white light flooded the room. She raised an eyebrow at Ashley, sitting beside her, yellow eyes ringed by shadow, scarlet locks tangled with sleep. A smile tugged at her lips.
A groan came from the opposite bed as Sam rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head.
"God," came Chris's voice from her other side.
Liz turned to face him. "What?"
He blinked and shook his head. "Your neck—no wonder you couldn't breathe. It's a rather attractive shade of purple."
Liz touched a finger to her throat, but flinched as the muscles spasmed. She bit her lip, swallowing the pain. "I've had worse."
She felt Chris shudder, but he said nothing.
For the next few minutes they sat in silence, listening to the growing crescendo of Sam's snores. Finally, Ashley stood and crossed to his bed. Taking a hold of his blanket, she tore it away, exposing his half-naked body to the cold. His curses echoed from the walls as Ashley retreated to her bed, bringing Sam's cover with her.
Liz chuckled as Ashley spread the cover over them, trying to ignore the burning from her throat. "Thanks, I was getting cold," she said, grinning at the other girl.
"Hey!" Sam was sitting up now, blinking hard in the fluorescent light. He tossed his pillow across the room. Chris caught it easily and placed it behind his head.
Liz smiled as a little of the weight lifted from her heart. Wriggling her backside, she snuggled in beneath the blanket, basking in the warm bodies to either side of her. They grinned as Sam found his shirt from the night before and pulled it over his broad shoulders. Liz watched with a tinge of disappointment as he covered himself.
"Hey, my eyes are up here, ladies," Sam laughed.
Liz snorted. "Like I'd be interested in a city slugger like you, Sam."
Ashley and Chris chuckled while Sam rolled his eyes. Then the clang of the outer door echoed down the corridor, plunging the room into silence. The smiles fell from their faces as they shared sad glances, the weight of yesterday's guilt returning.
"What happens next?" Chris murmured.
Sam's eyes flickered towards Ashley. "After we…survived, you two showed up," Sam replied with a shrug. "You know the rest."
Beside her, Ashley shifted on the bed. "Yesterday, on the training field, the doctors were talking," she said in a low voice. "I overheard a bit. They were talking about things moving ahead. So who knows what comes next?"
The bed shifted again as Chris pulled himself up. A pang of sadness touched Liz as his warmth left her side. He moved to the bars and glanced down the corridor. "Well, whatever comes next, at least breakfast is on its way." He spoke the words with a false lightness, failing to hide the strain beneath, but Liz appreciated his attempt to brighten the gloomy discussion.
Sam groaned. "Don't suppose it's something other than that gruel they call oatmeal?"
"Sure, what's your order? I'll give them a shout." Chris laughed.
"I'll take some eggs with a side of bacon. Maybe some hash browns. Oh, and a burger. You got all that?"
"How about a television while you're at it, Chris?" Ashley added.
Shaking his head, Chris returned to the bed and slid in beside Liz. "Ah, bacon. I can't even remember the last time we had that at home."
As his warmth returned Liz found herself sliding closer, until her side pressed up against him. A tingle ran up her arm at the touch, and she held her breath, waiting for him to pull away. When he didn't move, she smiled, only then recalling his comment about the bacon. Her grin spread. While the food on the ranch had not technically been theirs to eat, her family had made an art of pilfering extra supplies whenever they were available. Bacon had been just one of the many luxury food items she'd enjoyed.
"Oh, I don't know, back on the farm we had bacon and eggs for breakfast most days. It gets a little old."
She laughed as the three of them turned to stare at her. Unfortunately, her mirth was too much for her throat, and she broke into a coughing fit. It was a few minutes before she found her voice again.
"Country secret," she croaked at last, and the others groaned.
The screeching wheels of the breakfast cart came to a halt outside their cell. The guard banged his rifle against the bars while the other opened the grate through which they passed the food.
"Come and get it." The guard with the gun laughed. "Big day for you, I hear."
Chris retrieved the four bowls of oatmeal, much to Sam's chagrin, and they sat down to their meal.
Afterwards, the four of them lay back and waited, listening for the sound of the outer door. Closing her eyes, Liz did her best to ignore the agony that was her neck. Her good mood quickly fell away as the pain beat down on her. Silently, she cursed the doctors, the guards and their guns, even poor, dead Joshua for his vicious attack.
"What do you think that guard meant?" Sam asked after an hour, addressing what they had all been wondering at.
"Nothing good," Chris offered unhelpfully.
"Well, they need us alive for something," Ashley put in. She had joined Sam on the other bed now, surrendering her bed to Liz and Chris. "Whatever this place is, it's top secret. My parents weren't the most connected of individuals in the government, but most things reached the rumor mill at some point. I don't think this place was ever mentioned. As far as the media are concerned, the children of traitors were…" Her voice trailed off, and Liz felt a pang of sadness for the girl.
Without speaking, Sam reached up and placed an arm around Ashley, drawing her into a hug. Watching them, Liz's sadness grew, rising from some lonely chasm inside her. The last two years had been long and hard, and more than once she had found herself craving the touch of another human being. Licking her lips, she glanced at Chris, then gave herself a silent shake. Drawing up her knees, she hugged them to her chest.
Movement came from beside her, but it was just Chris rearranging himself on the bed. He spoke into the uncomfortable silence. "Maybe it's the same with our families then. Maybe they've been taken someplace else." There was no mistaking the tremor of hope in his voice.
As the others nodded, Liz closed her eyes. The others might still cling to the thought their families lived, but there was no such hope for hers.
"Wouldn't that be nice?" Sam replied with false cheer. "We can all have a reunion someday, share torture stories around the campfire—"
"Shut up, Sam." Ashley pushed him away and looked at Chris. "We can only hope, Chris. Although my sister…" She bowed her head, eyes shining. "She got in the way. They never gave her a chance."
Before any of them could respond, a loud clang echoed down the corridor.
The four of them exchanged a long glance.
"Showtime," Sam whispered.