Chapter 25 - Clover

CHAPTER 25 - CLOVER

I 've been chained to this metal table for hours now and there is nothing in the room with me but the sound of the air conditioning, which doesn't seem to have a cut-off temperature because the room is freezing and my body is shaking as bad, or worse, as it was the other night when Riggs held me.

But he's not here to hold me now and so there's no hope of stopping the shivers that are getting worse by the second. Pretty soon, I'll be convulsing if someone doesn't take me out of here or turn that damn AC off.

Maybe that's how they'll kill me. They'll just leave me here and let me freeze to death.

For fuck's sake, Clover . Get a hold of yourself. You're not going to freeze to death. It's probably not even that cold in here, you're just… frightened .

Which is the truth. I am scared.

What are they going to do next? Will they kill us? Will they torture us?

The door slams open, banging against the wall. I lean back, shocked, and stare at the huge man filling the doorway.

Ike Monroe.

He's wearing jeans today. Boots, a leather jacket, and a black t-shirt with some kind of faded logo on it. He looks like his twin brother, Lasher—member of the Revenant biker gang—right now. And it's such a contradiction from the last time I saw him in a suit that it takes a few seconds for me to make sense of the paradox.

I knew he was dangerous the other night. I know what he did to Lowyn. But it was hard to see him in that light when he was all dressed up and acting like some kind of high-society host.

He looks nothing like some high-society host right now. Nothing at all.

Ike looks over his shoulder, leans back a little so he can look down both sides of the hallway outside, then directs his gaze right at me. His eyes are squinted and I can't tell if it's rage or hate.

But then, right as I'm staring into them, they soften, he steps inside, and the door closes quietly behind him.

I hold my breath as I wait to see what happens next.

He puts up both hands, pressing his palms at me. "Don't scream."

I notice that his accent is thick now. Filled with the drawl of a man who grew up in the hills of West Virginia. Not all polished like it was the other night. He must've been putting on pretenses or something, because right now he sounds just like everyone else from the Trinity. "Do I have a reason to scream?"

"No. I'm here to help. We're gettin' out of here."

" We ?"

He points to himself. "I'm going with you. It's just two checkpoints. We'll be fine." Then he's coming at me, pulling something out from his back pocket.

I recoil, unable to picture what that something might be, but then I let out a breath when I realize it's a very big set of bolt cutters. Ike doesn't hesitate, just puts the cutting end on either side of the chain link attached to my cuffs and presses the handles closed. It slices through the metal like butter and my hands, while still cuffed, are free.

I stand up, rubbing my wrists.

"Come on. Let's go." He makes a grab for me, but I pull away.

"You're crazy if you expect me to trust you, Ike. You're running this place. You're one of them. For all I know, you got Riggs captured on purpose. For all I know," I say again, "you called Hattie here yourself."

He sneers at me. "Hattie's been here, Clover. The entire time. And you're wrong about me. I'm not one of them."

"What the hell are you talking about? This is your city. You work for these monsters!"

He glares at me, his eyes so narrow they're nothing but slits. "So you think… what, this was my dream? Do you think I was just sittin' around when I was sixteen thinkin' to myself, ‘Gee. I sure wish there was some secret underground cult I could join up with to save my entire . Fucking . Village?' "

These last few words of his come out like a snake spitting venom and everything cordial and charming that I once saw inside Ike Monroe disappears.

He's bad. He's a bad, bad man.

He's also my only hope at the moment. Because I wouldn't even know where to look for Riggs down here, let alone the safest way to the exit. So I defuse things by stating something obvious without making it feel accusatory. "Well, you sure looked like you were having a good time last night."

His whole expression relaxes and he scoffs. "Well, you sure did too."

"I was faking it."

"And what makes you think I wasn't?"

He makes a grab for me again, but I pull away just in time. "Why should I trust you?"

"I'm pretty much your only option, Clover. And we're wasting time."

"That's not good enough. Not after what you did to Lowyn."

His eyes go narrow again. "What do you know about it?"

"I know… you're bad ."

For some reason, this characterization makes him chuckle. "Oh, bad doesn't even come close to what I am, Clover. But if you think this life I'm living was anything other than the best-case scenario in the face of many bad options, then… whatever. Find your own way out."

And then he turns to leave.

"Wait," I say. Because I'm not sure he's bluffing. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's not bluffing. He is my only option.

Ike doesn't turn, just side-eyes me from over his shoulder. "We can argue about this later, OK? You can call me every name in the book. You can accuse me of anything you want. Hell, I'll even stand still and quiet and let you do it. But we need to go , Clover. Right now."

I wilt here. Because I've got no choice and I hate that. But I do want to live. So I rally and nod. "Deal."

"Stay right behind me and no talkin' now. Don't say anything. Look at your feet and if anyone confronts us, make some pathetic sniffling noises or something. Like you're afraid of me."

I look up at him. "I am afraid of you."

He smiles. "Woman, I am a fuckin' saint compared to these Colony people. Look down, sniffle, and shake a little if anyone talks to us. Got it?"

I nod, then look down at my feet.

"I'm gonna be a little rough with you, so don't take it personal."

He starts pulling me over to the door, but I resist. "Wait! What about Riggs?"

"They're gonna kill Riggs, Clover. That's why we gotta get outta here."

He pulls me towards the door, but I lean back, planting my feet. "I can't leave him behind."

"You don't understand?—"

But just as he says that, the door comes crashing open again. Hattie appears, apparently alone, and she just stands there for a moment, trying to sort out what is happening. She's just about to open her mouth and start asking questions when Ike grabs the bolt cutters from the table and hits her in the side of the head with them.

She goes down like a fuckin' sack of flour. I'm talking crashes to the floor, banging her head on the side of the door as she falls.

"That's gonna hurt, no doubt about it. And I'll pay for it in the end. But it can't be helped." Ike looks at me and grins. "And anyway, she's a bitch."

"Who are you?"

Ike side-eyes me. Like he's angry. But then his eyes soften. "Not what everyone thinks. Let's just stick with that for now. When we're back up top, I'll tell you everything. But for now, if you wanna save Riggs, then you gotta trust me . Let's go."

He turns his back on me, ending the conversation, and then he steps into the hallway, looking both ways. It's empty and silent, like this is some secret, unused section of the underground city, and I start to get the feeling that he's maybe not supposed to be here.

We go left. Ike's grip on my upper arm is very firm. He's very tall and walks fast, so I have to practically trot to keep up with him. I look down, like he told me to, and concentrate on his boots. They make a deep thudding sound on the concrete floor, while my bare feet slap along beside him.

Suddenly, there are voices somewhere up ahead. They are faint, but with every step, they get louder. Which tells me these are people to be confronted, not avoided, and my heart skips a couple of beats.

We come around another corner, and I take a peek up and see two large men halfheartedly guarding a steel door. They look up as we approach, both of them snapping to attention when they realize who it is.

"Ike?" one calls when we're still down the hall a ways.

"Don't look up," Ike says, his words a low growl meant only for me. And then he greets them. "Hey, Mouzer. Hey, Bills." He jerks my arm. "I'm taking this one to the pile." His words are light and happy now, but in a scary way. "Either of you wanna come along and watch?"

The pile? Pile of what? Dead bodies?

The two guards chuckle. "Wish we could," one says.

"I'd hit that," the other one adds.

Which leads me to believe it's some other kind of pile and my whole body begins to shake.

"But we can't." The first one sighs. "The general's here. You shouldn't either, Ike. He's an asshole."

"And that bitch of an attack dog he brought with him?" the other one says. "Let's just say I wouldn't take her to the pile if they paid me."

"Hell, I would." The first one laughs. "I'd fuck her hard, and then shoot her in the head as I was blowing my load inside her."

I look up, forgetting my number one directive, and recoil. What the hell? Did I just hear that correctly?

Ike yanks my arm so hard, I yelp. "Look at your feet, bitch. You don't need to see their faces."

I look down and all three of them laugh.

What if he set me up? What if he really is taking me to some place called ‘the pile' where, apparently, they go to rape women before they kill them?

"Well, I gotta go," Ike says. Then he looks at his watch. "I've got an appointment with the general after this." He snickers. "He ain't gonna be mad. She's my reward for a job well done."

I feel so sick, I might throw up. And I don't hear how the two men respond, because Ike is pulling the steel door open and shoving me through it.

"I'll take a little video," Ike says, just before he closes the door. "Stop by my place tonight and we'll watch it together." Then the door bangs closed and he starts dragging me along the new hallway. "Keep your head down," he whispers. "That was the easy part. Those are my men, but this next group aren't."

"The pile ?" I ask, my voice weak.

"Not now, Clover. Just shut up and look at your feet. I'll do all the talkin'."

Again, I hear distant voices that become clearer as we walk. We turn the corner, and there's a group of them this time. At least three, but I don't look up to check. Because their conversation isn't banter based on boredom, they are having some kind of official meeting.

They sound like soldiers.

The man who is talking—obviously, the one in charge—says, "Hey. Where the hell is Hattie?"

I feel Ike do something here. But I don't know what until he starts shooting.

One, two, three, four.

I look up just in time to watch every one of the men collapse to the floor. Each one with a smoking hole in the center of their foreheads.

I scream, but Ike's hand is over my mouth before I can really let it out. His hand is so big and he presses it against my face so hard, I can't breathe. I look up at him, eyes wide with terror.

He just killed four men. In cold blood. Four. Right in front of me.

"Do not scream," he growls. "Promise?"

I nod. And he removes his hand. "I thought you said you were gonna talk to them! Not shoot them in the fuckin' head!"

"We don't have time for talking. We've like an hour to save Riggs, Clover. Because they are taking him to Collin as we speak. And he knows we've got you down here. He knows what Riggs did to you. Hattie and the general made sure of it. And if you're not there to set him straight on whatever the fuck is going on between you and Riggs, Collin's just gonna waste him. So if you wanna save your man, then shut up and run!"

He opens the door, shoves me through it, and that's what I do.

I run.