Render by K. A. Riley

Author:K. A. Riley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

15

With Brohn close behind, I lead the way around the second building, across about a hundred yards of rutted desert sand, and over to the edge of the parking pad. Other than the big truck we saw from the other side of the fence, the pad looks deserted. I’m just starting to wonder if Render sounded a false alarm when I hear a woman’s voice followed by the clang of metal over by the truck. With Brohn’s knife as the only weapon between us, we inch around behind the huge transport and peer around its hulking rear fender.

A man and a woman are busy cranking a thick bolt near the bottom of the truck with a large red wrench.

Silently, Brohn darts his eyes between me and the two figures in the distance. It’s his signal that he’s going to confront them. I open my eyes wide and shake my head violently, my not-so-subtle signal that that’s a terrible idea, and we’re likely to end up dead. I’m about to whisper to him that we should maybe follow his original instincts and gather up Card, Rain, and Manthy before we leap into a confrontation with two potentially very dangerous strangers in the middle of the night. It’s possible that Brohn’s forgotten our similar encounter with Asha and the two men in the desert, but every second of that memory is burned into my brain.

Brohn moves too fast for me to stop him. Before I can say a word, he steps out into the dim light cast by the flickering fixture at the top of the nearby wooden post and calls out to the two people.

“Hey!” he barks. “What are you doing?” His deep voice rumbles with authority from deep in his chest. If I didn’t know him and he snuck up on me like this, that voice alone would make me want to put up my hands and do whatever he says.

The man and woman whip around, clearly startled and unsure whether to confront us or turn tail and run. For the first time I can see their threadbare clothes and dust-crusted jackets. They’re definitely not military.

They must have come to the same conclusion about us, because they seem to relax as Brohn and I step fully into the light.

“Who are you?” the woman asks, looking around the shadowy parking pad. “Where’d you come from?”

“You first,” Brohn orders. He’s got his knife out, but he’s wisely got it hidden behind his hip. No sense escalating the situation unnecessarily or giving away a strategic advantage.

“Are you with the Eastern Order?”

The woman holds up her hands. “What? Definitely not! I mean, I used to work for…”

The man shoots her a look that seems to say, Shut your mouth right now.

“What are you doing on a military base?” I ask.

“We could ask you the same thing.”

I decide to take a chance and lead with the truth.

“We escaped from a government military facility. Like this. Only a lot bigger.”

“Escaped?”

“We were being recruited.”

“Recruited?”

“For the war against the so-called Order,” Brohn says.

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