Eve of Tomorrow (Dawn of Rebellion Series Book 3) Page 18

  “You’re right,” Linc says. “We should just keep going in that direction.”

  “Let’s go,” I say impatiently.

  We avoid the street where Shay’s body still lies, and slip out of town unnoticed. Having given away so much of our food, we fan out to look for more. Drew keeps to my right. He hasn’t said a word since we saw Dawn being dragged away. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I do know that he’ll do anything to save my sister. I can count on him for that.

  After a little while, Drew finds an injured deer in a ravine. He pulls out his knife and stabs it into the animal viciously.

  “Why don’t I take care of that?” Linc asks, removing Drew’s dagger from his clenched fingers.

  Drew runs a blood soaked hand through his hair and walks away. I follow him.

  “Leave me alone Gabby,” he barks.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” I respond. “I’m scared for her too, you know.”

  “It isn’t the same and you bloody well know it,” he retorts.

  His words sting.

  “We both love her,” I argue.

  “I am in love with her!” he yells before pausing to calm his breathing. “It’s no longer your job to protect her and keep her safe. It’s mine. If I lose Dawn...”

  His voice trails off and his eyes search mine desperately.

  “We keep losing her over and over again,” he says when he finds his voice again.

  “She always comes back to us,” I say more to myself than to him. “We all knew the risks of this mission. We knew we might not all make it.”

  “How can you look me in the eye and try to rationalize everything that has happened?” he asks incredulously.

  “I’m not, I just..,” I give up trying to defend myself because I can’t find the words to finish.

  Even once the risks were explained, I always thought we could beat the odds. Me and Dawn. We’ve beaten them before.

  “Aren’t you worried about Lee too?” he asks though it sounds more like an accusation than a question.

  “Of course I am!” I snap. “I care about him.”

  “You care about him?” Drew spits.

  “What do you want to hear? Half the time, he pisses me off because of the things he says. Half the time, he pisses me off because of the things he doesn’t say. He has gotten under my skin. You happy now?” I respond.

  “Under your skin? Sounds like… love,” he says quietly.

  “Alright, I love him, dammit,” I finally admit.

  Drew steps back, wide eyed at my confession. We stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment, and then he starts picking up wood for a fire.

  “Dinner, sleep, and then we go find both of them and kill the bastards who took them from us,” I promise.

  Chapter 67: Dawn

  Lee and I are chained inside one of the tents for the night. We can hear laughter and chatter outside but we can’t understand any of it.

  “What do you think they’re going to do with us?” I ask.

  He shrugs, but doesn’t say anything, so I ask the next question weighing on my mind, “How can we get away?”

  “Dawn,” he says finally, “We have no weapons and we’re outnumbered. We’ll only get ourselves killed if we try anything now. And, if we can escape, we’ll still be in Moreno territory. No one would help us here.”

  He’s right. The people here are completely loyal to the cartel. The Morenos only have the power that fear gives them, but it is enough. Fear takes over the mind until you will do anything to keep it at bay. Fear made an entire town leave the orphaned children to fend for themselves. Fear made neighbors and family turn against each other. Fear devours humanity and hope.

  I know Gabby and Drew will come for us, and it is enough to keep my own fear from consuming me.

  The glow from the fire outside disappears as the men crash for the night. Lee is already asleep, but I can’t get the image of Shay out of my head. I lay there for a while before the tent flap is pushed aside and a large man comes through. He stops and crouches down when he reaches me. I try to sit up but my chains won’t let me. I fall back and stare at his dark figure.

  He reaches out and clamps a rough hand on my leg, holding me down.

  “What are you doing?!” I scream. “Get off me!”

  He clamps his free hand over my mouth and crushes me with his weight. As soon as he lets my legs go, I kick and thrash. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he sticks a hand underneath my shirt.

  “Dawn!” Lee yells, suddenly awake. He tries to get to me but he can’t. I hear the sounds of his chains crashing together in between my screams as the man on top of me tugs at my clothes. He has a grin on his face and continues to press into me. I hit him and try to bite him. He responds by grabbing my chin. He says something in Spanish, but his words are cut short by a single gunshot. The man goes limp and I try to push him off me as I feel his warm blood soaking into my clothes.

  Standing in the doorway of our tent is the Mexican that leads this patrol. He still has the gun in his hand and I wait for him to aim it at me, but he doesn’t. He slips it into its holster and then bends down to roll the man off me. As soon as I’m free, I scramble backward as far as my chains will let me. I pull my knees to my chest and hug them close. The leader orders two of his men to drag the body from the tent.

  “No one is allowed to touch you,” the Mexican says.

  Out of my mind, I almost thank him, but then he says, “My brother needs you to arrive in one piece for questioning.”

  Questioning.

  I shiver at the thought. I know what the Texans did to Drew for answers. Who the hell is this guy’s brother?

  When I’m alone with Lee again, he tries to get to me but he can’t. Instead, he reaches toward me and I grab his hand, holding on for dear life. He doesn’t say anything and I’m glad. Just holding his hand is enough to slow my heart and calm my shaking.

  Neither of us sleep the rest of the night and by the time we are loaded up onto the horses again, the blood has dried in my hair and on my clothes, leaving me a crusty mess. I flinch when I’m lifted up, not wanting these men to touch me. None of them seem fazed by the rider-less horse. I’m staring at it when the patrol leader pulls his horse in beside me.

  “They all know the rules,” he says, almost as if he had read my mind. “They all know the consequences.”

  “What do you want from me?” I ask quietly, having lost the energy needed to fight with this man.

  “Nothing,” he responds. “But Juan Moreno will want answers.”

  “What answers does he want from me?” I ask, afraid I already know the answer.

  “That is not for me to discuss,” he says, and his face remains serious. “But, I tell you this, when you meet him, it will be better for you if you just give him the answers he wants. Your death may even be quick.”

  “My death?” I stammer as all the air leaves my chest.

  “Spies are executed. If you cooperate though, you may be spared other punishments,” he explains.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  We are his prisoners. Shay’s blood is still on his clothes. I need to know who is doing this to us.

  “My name is Marco Moreno. Juan Moreno is my brother,” he answers with a grunt as he digs his heels into the sides of his horse and trots to the front of the group without looking back.

  Chapter 68: Dawn

  The Moreno house is huge, like an English estate. Dark stone walls give the place a dreary and foreboding feel. Along the outer walls stand heavily armed men. They wave us through the gate into a courtyard, our horses’ hooves echoing off the cobblestones.

  We stop abruptly and the guards drag me and Lee from our saddles. I stumble and fall to my knees. Someone grabs the back of my shirt and lifts me back up. They don’t undo our chains.

  The courtyard is busy with soldiers and attendants coming and going. They glare at us as they hurry by. Marco gives orders to the guards and they take the horses to th
e barn. I spin around when I hear a large metal front door open behind me. Three men in chains walk out carrying buckets of what smells like literal shite.

  “They aren’t Mexican,” I whisper to Lee.

  “No,” he says. “They look like slaves.”

  My eyes follow their skinny frames until they disappear around the corner. I hear the rattle of chains as someone bumps into me from behind.

  “Sorry,” a small female voice says.

  It’s a child.

  “Lee,” I elbow him, “she’s British.”

  The little girl gives us a weary look before turning away.

  “Don’t go,” I say, reaching out, but she flinches away.

  “I’m sorry miss,” she says, looking at her feet. “But I must be getting my work did.” She rushes off just as Marco returns to us with two guards.

  “Take him,” he says, pointing to Lee, who fights them as they grab his arms. There’s nothing he can do.

  Marco looks at me coldly before saying, “Let’s go.”

  Marco grabs my chains and pulls me through the metal door. The inside of the house is even more extravagant and crowded than outside. Guards, slaves, and cooks all rush by and don’t give me a second look.

  “This way,” Marco says, pushing me down a dark hall until we stop in front of a large set of ornately carved and gilded double doors obviously meant to impress. After a tap on one of the doors, they open and Marco yanks me through them.

  I stumble in hard as I regain my footing and my eyes begin to adjust. There, at the end of the room, past the blood red walls with gold trim paneling, is a single ornate throne of a chair occupied by a beautiful, yet terrifying man. As Marco urges me forward, I can’t take my eyes off the man in the chair or the guards behind him.

  He looks like a dark prince sitting there in judgment. His curly black hair reaches his shoulders. He is clean shaven and dressed to be seen, but it’s his eyes that I can’t look away from. They are dark, almost black and they bore into me.

  “Brother,” Marco begins, “a present for you.”

  The Moreno leader smiles, but there is something very wrong in that smile. It twists his face into something that I no longer want to look at. If I didn’t know it before, I do now. This is an evil man.

  “Hello,” he says, getting to his feet. “I am Juan.”

  He walks down the steps toward me and begins to circle me. He puts a hand under my chin to examine my face.

  “She is one of the British spies that you had us looking for,” Marco explains. “I sent the other one to the dungeon to await your questioning.”

  “Thank you, Marco,” Juan says, not bothering to look at him. “You may go.”

  Marco glances at me one more time before hurrying from the room. Juan continues to examine me…every part of me. I am frozen in fear until he finally steps back and reclaims his seat.

  He says something to his guard in Spanish before turning back to me.

  “I will see you again soon,” he says.

  He’ll see me again soon? Does that mean he’s not going to kill me yet?

  I am pulled from the room and quickly led down a flight of stairs. The air gets colder with every step. A door opens and I am shoved inside before it slams behind me.

  “Are you okay Dawn?” Lee asks as I rush toward him and hug him as much as our chains will allow.

  “This is a bad place Lee,” I say.

  “I know,” he responds.

  We’ve been in the cell for hours when the door swings open slowly with a groan. A man enters carrying a bucket. He has chains to match ours and a scar across his bare chest. The door closes and he surveys us before setting the bucket down.

  “You need to clean yourselves before being taken to Juan Moreno,” he says, his American accent evident.

  “Why does he care?” I spit. “He’s just going to torture us.”

  “You’re British,” the man states the obvious, cocking his head.

  “Yea,” I say. “That’s why we’re here. Apparently we’re spies.”

  “You’re not?” he asks.

  I shrug in response.

  “You’re American,” Lee states. “What are you doing in Mexico?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he answers. “I won’t though. There is a guard waiting for me outside the door. They won’t want me talking to you. Clean yourselves up. I’m Boone, by the way. I’ll be back when they decide you can eat.”

  After he’s gone, I take the rag from the bucket and scrub the blood and dirt from my skin. Lee does the same and then we wait.

  I don’t know how long we sit here. No food comes and we aren’t taken for questioning. Boone doesn’t return, either, and we have no idea what’s happening out there.

  My stomach growls, reminding me that we’ve missed yet another meal. I am too weak to stand when the door finally opens and Juan Moreno walks in. I cower away from his piercing stare but it isn’t me he trains it on. He points to Lee, and the guards drag him from the room, leaving me alone in the damp darkness.

  I curl up on the floor and sink into unconsciousness, only waking when Lee is brought back. Light floods into the room behind him, allowing me to see clearly. His jaw is swollen and his lip is split. Blood trickles from a gash near his hairline and his shirt is soaked through. As soon as we are enveloped in darkness once again, I crawl across the floor to Lee’s huddled form, dragging the bucket with me.

  “Lee, what did they do to you?” I whisper, dabbing a rag across his brow.

  He flinches away from my touch when I try to clean his lip.

  “They know why we’re here,” he says. “They know who we are.”

  “What did they ask you?” I ask him.

  “I didn’t tell them anything,” he responds weakly.

  Before I say anything else, Boone enters the room, carrying a small bowl and a plate. He sets it down in front of us and takes a seat.

  “I have to stay here until you’ve finished eating,” he explains, ignoring Lee’s broken appearance.

  The food is a bowl of tasteless mush and dry bread. Neither it nor the cup of water are nearly big enough to satisfy both of us.

  “Are most of the slaves British or American?” I ask.

  I suddenly want to know. My father ran Floridaland for years, which means he ran the slave trade. Was he selling his own people to the Mexicans?

  “Both,” Boone says. “Some were sold and others chose to come.”

  “Why would anyone choose this?” I ask.

  “There are spies everywhere,” he answers cryptically, putting a finger to his lips to quiet me, but I don’t think he’s talking about Mexican spies.

  Does my father have allies here? What about Mya Moreno? Maybe there are people who are loyal to her.

  Chapter 69: Dawn

  Two days go by with no word before I am roused from my sleep by someone manhandling me to my feet. The guards shove me down the hall and up the stairs. I do as they say.

  We stop, and the door in front of us is opened, revealing a large table set with a sickening amount of food. Juan Moreno sits at one end.

  “Ahhh, Ms. Nolan, have a seat,” he says, not even looking up as he speaks.

  I am pushed into a chair opposite of him and an overflowing plate is placed in front of me. My stomach urges me to eat, but I hesitate.

  “You know who I am,” I state the obvious.

  “Yes. Dawn Nolan. Daughter of the Rebel general. Rebel spy,” he states in return.

  “I am not a spy,” I say quietly.

  “You came here to gather information, did you not?” he asks, his accent giving his voice a purr that sets me on edge. “You were planning to steal that information. That makes you a spy.”

  He stands and walks around the table until he is behind me. He bends down so that his mouth is near my ear and whispers, “Eat, for I have many questions for you.”

  Unable to ignore my empty stomach any longer, I do what I’m told, barely chewing any of the food as it go
es down.

  Juan is still standing behind me when my plate is taken from me. He pulls my chair away from the table and turns me to look at him.

  “When is the first British ship set to arrive?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I answer, barely getting the words out before he backhands me.

  “Do not lie!” he yells. “I will get answers, or I will send you home to the General piece by piece.”

  “All I know is that it will be within the year,” I lie.

  Juan kicks the chair over and I go crashing to the floor. He reaches down and grabs a handful of my hair, forcing me to look into his distorted face. Tears trail down my bruised cheeks unchecked and he smiles.

  “Let’s try an easier question,” he says. “Where are the ships landing? Is it near Floridaland?”

  There is something behind his words. Why does he care about Floridaland?

  “I don’t know,” I croak as his hands encircle my throat and he lifts me to my feet.

  I squeeze my eyes shut to keep them from betraying the lie. Juan drops me as he walks back to the table and grabs a knife. He returns to me and presses the cold, flat edge onto my cheek and my breath catches in my throat.

  “Please,” I plead.

  He turns the knife and drags it slowly across my cheek. I scream as my skin opens up and warm blood pours down my shirt.

  “Take her away,” Juan says as he turns his back on me. “Her answers will come more freely after more time in the dungeon.”

  As they drag me down the hall, a door opens. I hear a woman’s voice before I see her. She stands in the doorway in a long gown, watching as I go by. There is pity in her eyes and something more. Alarm? Recognition?

  Chapter 70: Dawn

  We haven’t reached the dungeons yet when I throw up for the first time. The guard jumps back as my breakfast splatters his boots. They quicken their pace and are glad to be rid of me by the time they throw me back in the cell.

  I spend the rest next hour hovered over the wash bucket until there is nothing left of the extravagant breakfast in my stomach. Now I am only dry heaving and spitting up stomach acid. My chest aches. My throat burns. My stomach growls. Lee tries to help me but there is nothing he can do. At least I have stopped bleeding. I am a mess.