33. Hellena

33

HELLENA

" H ow did she find us?!"

"Better question: How do we do our jobs when we're being chased by psychos?!" Ora growls, slamming the jeep into gear and taking a hairpin turn. The rest of the vehicles scatter behind us, all but Gavin, riding alongside on one of the Block's incredible motorcycles.

The trip down the mountains was going so well until we got ambushed on the edge of town. In retrospect, I guess the whole plan kinda went to shit before we got started.

Best laid plans or whatever.

"Everyone, do your best not to get pinned down. Lose your tails or get to safety and hunker down!" I announce over the radio.

Several replies copy back.

It's a start, but I have no clue what to do next.

We're coming up on the main entrance to town, the old iron archway suddenly visible in stark relief, outlined in blinking white light. It's a fucking barricade.

With dozens of Ghosts stomping on top of broken down cars, waiting for us right where we were supposed to regroup, our launching point for taking back the town.

We slow, crunching to a halt, taking in the scene.

There, right at the top of the heap of crates piled in the street, I see her stand.

Rachelle. The herald of the Seven Sinful. And the crowd goes wild, every one of the freaks below cheering as she raises one hand.

In the blinding light, I can just make out her shadow as she places the megaphone to her mouth and speaks.

"Tonight's the end of an era. And the beginning of a new age. It's time for us to wipe all of our opposition off the face of the map. To eliminate the enemies of change."

Her voice is unrecognizable. And not because of the scratch of the megaphone.

Rachelle is gone. In her place, something totally deluded. An icon. A megalomaniacal tyrant.

With an army of loyal subjects willing to die for her cause.

"We annihilated the old guard, destroyed the false idols sitting on their thrones of lies! I killed them, each and every one of them, taking back the power of their titles, unifying the voice of truth. And now I will set things right."

A thought starts to form on the edge of my thoughts as she speaks.

"My own brother tried to hide our legacy from us. So tonight, we take it back. On his life. On his blood, I promise this to you, my children."

Fucking. Raving. Whacko.

But her words spark a clue.

His life. His blood…

Me, obviously. But where would he hide something that he would only want me to find?

"And I swear on his grave that I will right this wrong."

Click! The realization falls into place, right in front of me.

"Now bring her to me, the heir to Inertia! Hellena Michaels! My niece!"

Before I can utter the discovery I just made, Ora slams the car into reverse, gunning it back the way we came. Just as the horde of drug-addled Ghosts charges over the barricade toward us.

Cars skid into motion, screeching off after other members of our crew.

And in an instant, the rest of us are scattered, rushing in every different direction as fast as we can. Gavin manages to stick with us for a few miles but leads off two dirt bikes giving chase as we reach the lower hills.

Minutes zip by in frantic chase, adrenaline and dread driving us onward.

Hoping that our friends are safe.

Just trying to outrun the overwhelming pursuit.

"What the fuck do we do, Hell?"

"Get to safety. We told everyone to go to ground if they got attacked, right?"

"Yeah, but we cannot lead these jack holes back to camp!"

"I know that!"

"So does everyone else!"

"Fuck! It's not good enough!"

We were supposed to fight back tonight. To take a stand. Do things on our terms.

My fist hammers into the dash once, my whole body filling with boiling rage.

No. I won't let it go down like this.

Rachelle doesn't get to call the shots.

The Sinful do not get to fuck me over. Never again.

Thinking on the fly, I start spouting orders over the radio.

"This is Hell on Wheels, anybody copy?"

A slew of chatter clips back, checking in one by one.

Once I have a pretty good idea of the numbers, I take a breath, look at Ora, still ripping along mountain roads. She's a pro who has been driving these roads her entire life on a bike and in cars.

And she's not the only one.

"Everybody, listen up! Sanctum Harbor is our home. Most of you have known her longer than I have. Your entire lives. And she's a mysterious lady. And I also know that most of you know those secret paths like the backs of your hands. So I need you to stall. I need you to lead these rejects on a wild goose chase. Keep them busy so that we can end this, once and for all!"

I yelp, dropping the mic as Ora careens around a corner at breakneck speed.

Once I recover, I get down to the nitty gritty.

"So, new plan. Anyone I don't name, you know what to do. Show no mercy. And good luck out there. We're family. Keep each other safe!"

I can't keep the grin off my face as Ora throws back her head and howls, smiling from ear to ear, grabbing my sleeve in the rush.

"First up, Gatling-Gavin, you copy?"

"This is ridiculous. Copy," he rumbles.

"And you love every goddamn minute of it, don't you?" Tell scratches over the comm.

"Double-copy, and don't say another word, Tyler !" he clips.

"Gav, stick with your mission. Find the ring. Sing, same goes for you."

"No callsign?" he chirps.

"Seriously? Fine. What do you want?" As if we have time for this, but I'm flying high on adrenaline.

"Nighthawk."

If I had a drink, I would have spat it out.

"Did he just—" Tell's voice is shaking with laughter.

"Why is everyone laughing?" Sing asks, sounding a little upset.

"No reason. Nighthawk." I cover a snicker. "You have your orders. But I need Alaya for something else."

"Copy that, Hell on Wheels."

"Jambalaya, you there?" I snap off, keeping my voice totally serious.

"That is… an awesome callsign!" She cackles.

"Glad you like it," I drawl. One of these days, I'll actually take her off guard and get her goat. "I think I figured out where we need to go."

"Dish, girl!"

"What I mean to say is that I think you know where the place I figured out we need to go is," I garble out, almost crossing my own wires.

"Come again? That was about as clear as a cracked windshield in a shitstorm."

"You killed my dad, right?" I ask.

"About like you're killing the mood, Michaels."

"Shut the fuck up, Alaya!" I snap, shaking my head. And for the first time ever, she does. "What I'm asking is what came after."

"Oh. Surprised you never asked about that before."

"I didn't want to know before."

"And now?"

"I really need to know where you buried him."

"Turn here!" I shouted to Ora, the wind rushing through my hair.

We're almost to the old road leading out to my dad's old cabin. Alaya's supposed to meet us there and show me the way to my father's grave.

Of course, nothing ever goes smoothly for me for more than five minutes.

Just as we make the turn, several vehicles burst over the hill coming our way, skidding into line behind us, a few stray bullets whizzing by in the dark.

"Scumbuckets!" Ora pops off a few shots over her shoulder. "Grab the shotgun behind the seat!"

"What?!"

"Now, Hellena!"

My hands lock up.

My whole body.

I've only ever shot a gun two times in my life.

Or rather, two times at someone. Once to save my life, to stop Davi, my ex-fiancé, from assaulting me with his friends.

The next time, I tried to kill the man who forced me to get engaged those years before.

And tried to make me marry him.

Marco.

Fuck my life, I have bad luck with engagements.

But the thought of guns since the first time, when I took a life…

They make me immediately break out in cold sweat. Panic shivers through my whole body.

I have avoided it for so long, only breaking past that fear when my life was in jeopardy.

Well, fuck if it's not in jeopardy now.

Clamping down on my crippling anxiety, I force my hand to move. Reaching back, I find the stock behind my seat.

Swing the massive thing around.

I've seen Gavin do it. I've seen so many of Marco's men use them over the weeks of captivity.

"You got this, Hell."

"Ora, I?—"

"I know. Just aim for the tires, Sis." Like she can read my soul and my mind.

Now that is a target I can get behind.

That came out wrong.

But it doesn't matter when I spray buckshot into the rubber of the car roaring up alongside us, blasting the tire to shreds and sending it bumping and leaping off the road.

"One down!"

Not nearly enough. The cabin comes into view, the old gate and sign I could never forget even though I've only been there twice before.

"There!"

"I see it. Should we try to lose them?"

"Alaya, where are you?" I mash the radio button down.

"Make the turn and gun it around the house, sweet cheeks!" she orders over the receiver.

"Yes, Ma'am!" Ora hollers, stomping her foot on the gas.

Thank you, seatbelt.

The back tires spray gravel and dirt as she slides through the turn, barely slowing in our race to the small wooden building at the end of the drive. The other cars screech behind us, smashing into one another or clogging up the entryway as they queue to pursue us.

But they don't take long to get in line, back on our ass.

"Gonna be tight!" Ora warns, jerking the wheel and swerving around the house, the wall on my side and the trees on hers only a few inches away.

"Whoo! That was fucking awesome!" I cheer as she floors it one more time.

"Just call me Earnhardt!

"You're such a redneck. Alaya is rubbing off on you."

"Sometimes."

"TMI!"

"I like her, okay?" Ora gives me a strange look as she skids to a stop.

"I… I know. I just?—"

"Need to give her a chance." And she's serious. For one of the only times in all the time I've known her.

Have I been the asshole about this?

Things to dwell on later…

We're out of the car in a heartbeat, running for the bike we spot parked further out in the darkness. Alaya's waving us on, underlit by a red light.

"Get down!" she orders.

We do.

The first car around the house hits something invisible, flipping straight up in the air and crashing down in an explosion of glass and crunching metal. Then she hits the button again as the next one veers around the wreck and the truck stops dead in its tracks. Only it lifts about four feet off the ground with the deafening thump of a landmine right under it.

"Holee shit!" Ora guffaws, clapping Alaya on the back.

"Don't celebrate too soon. We gotta move." Alaya's already running, leading the way down a path through the trees.

And she's right.

Behind us, too close behind, the sounds of screaming junkies fill the night. With their vehicles either blocked or destroyed, they're on foot, like us.

In the woods.

At night.

Hunting us.

I may never sleep again.

Assuming I don't get murdered tonight.

Alaya's razor sharp and direct, taking clear turns at what seem at first to be random spots, until I see her lips move in the dim illumination of her flashlight. She's counting.

We pause for just a couple of seconds at one fork.

"Um. That way."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Run. I'll hold them off," Alaya barks, loading a new clip into her pistol.

"Fuck that! Come with us and we'll all hold them off!" I argue, and Ora's eyes light up like I just gave her an early Christmas present. Alaya looks a bit taken aback for a moment.

Then she nods, gives me a suspicious glance, and we're running again.

"So, where'd you get this idea?"

"From the inside of Damon's red-gold bracelet. It was the only one with letters engraved in it," I huff, gasping between words and keeping my eyes on the random trees that block the path here and there. "It read, ‘ R.I.P-D.A.M.' "

"Rest in peace, Dats All Me? What does Fetty have to do with this?" Ora grunts, keeping pace with the two of us. Gotta give her credit, she's tiny, but she's fast as hell.

"Rest in peace, Damon Alden Michaels." Alaya snickers at Ora's joke. How is she not even winded?

I hate her again.

"He gave me very detailed instructions for his burial."

"And you only thought of telling me that now?"

"I didn't execute the task," she growls. Like she's admitting to something.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he was my friend. It was hard enough carrying out the job, even if I was mad at the fuck-stick. So I had someone else take care of the cleanup. I've never actually been out here."

"So you don't know what we're looking for?"

"Of course I do." Alaya slows down to a trot, reaching the edge of the trees.

"So, what should we be on the lookout for?"

"That."

Like a movie cue, the moon peeks out from behind the clouds at that moment, shedding just enough light into the clearing to make out the shape of a stone rectangle, capped in a short roof, like a mausoleum of sorts.

We cut across the rough ground, putting our backs to the low structure just as the first sounds reach us from the trees. They're coming fast.

"Any time you wanna get that door open..." Alaya mutters, snapping back the action on her gun.

Snatching the flashlight from her, I scan the smooth, moss-covered surface, finding words etched into the stone. Clearing the dust and tangled vines, I feel along as much as I look.

Until I feel two grooves.

Digging into my bag, I fumble through the metallic contents until I feel the bracelet. The ring.

Fidgeting them into place, I press down.

Feel the click.

And hear a scream at the edge of the trees. Then another.

There's so many of them.

Glittering eyes announce the first of them rushing into the open, shadowy figures sprinting at us, full tilt.

There's no time for terror.

Just a pump of the shotgun in my hands.

A spray of pellets.

Alaya clips a few in the legs, taking them down. But there's no way we stop them all.

Especially when I ratchet the last shell out of the chamber. Ora's clip clicks.

Alaya's too.

Reaching back, my fingers drag along the lip of the stone plinth. And it shifts back, then down with a low scraping noise.

Alaya whips out two batons, taking a step out in front to take the first of the attackers. Snapping across low, then back, she takes two at the knees, in the face.

Another from the side, and I kick out. Forcing the gaunt woman back, my fist connects with her cheek. The loud thwack over my shoulder tells me that Ora is likewise engaged.

We're holding them off.

Keeping a semicircle of space between us and them as they regroup in the wake of our first vicious defense.

"Hell, you copy? I'm almost there." Gavin's voice clips over the mic.

All three of us lock eyes at the same moment.

"Shit! I told him to meet us here—" Alaya reaches for the radio.

And takes a flying kick to the head.

Her body goes down in a heap, unconscious. I hope so.

"LAYA!" Ora screams, but the distraction leaves an opening. Arms swoop in, grabbing her.

And I'm frozen to the spot.

Staring at the assailant who took Alaya down.

"E—Evan?" I breathe.