Arena 3 (Book #3 in the Survival Trilogy) Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Molly, Zeke, Ryan, and I watch quietly as the Commander spreads a map out on the table in front of us. We’re in his office in the busy main building, the one where he’d first decided to let us stay all those months ago. Now, here he is, helping me to leave.

The map looks incredibly old. People stopped making physical maps because technology surpassed the need for them, and most of the ones still in existence would have been poached from museums around the early twenty-first century. There’s no doubt in my mind that this map is an old, historical relic, stolen in a raid years ago. There’s no way of knowing for sure if the roads depicted on it will still be there, or that there won’t be extra settlements on the way not shown, places where unsavory people might dwell.

General Reece leans over and taps a spot on the map. “This is us,” she says. Then she runs her finger down the length of the map all the way to Houston, Texas. “And here is where the signal came from.”

I frown and lean forward, looking more closely at the map in the dingy yellow light. It looks like such an enormous distance to cover. The thought is daunting.

“I would recommend you stick to the waterways wherever possible,” she continues. “It will be safer. Faster. And will require less fuel. Stay far from the shores. Take the Lawrence River and head west as far as you can.”

I’d been planning on leaving by the same route I arrived, traveling alongside the Hudson toward New York. It seemed logical to me to retrace my steps, to tread familiar ground, at least for the initial part of the journey. But looking at the map makes me realize that my plan is too risky. New York is crawling with slaverunners, and is the site of Arena 1. She’s right: passing through it via land would be incredibly dangerous. By sticking to the waterways and following the river for as long as possible, we’ll be able to bypass many of the main highways and cities.

“There’s just one snag,” I say. “I don’t have a boat.”

It’s the Commander who answers.

“We’ll give you a boat, Brooke,” he says, almost matter-of-factly.

My mouth drops open at the news. I can hardly believe it. Molly and Zeke are both wide-eyed in disbelief, too. My first instinct is to ask him why, why he would choose to help me by offering up a precious vehicle like a boat, but I decide against it.

General Reece taps the map again, pointing to a place in Ohio on the banks of the river.

“If you survive that far,” she adds, “the water can take you all the way to Toledo. There’s an old train station there, built during the war as a way to transport coal down south. There are tracks running all the way to Texas.”

“Really?” I gasp, my voice rising several pitches at the stroke of luck.

She nods in her typically emotionless way. It takes all my willpower to contain my excitement. General Reece and the Commander have no idea how grateful I am to them for the information.

The tracks aren’t on the ancient map, so General Reece leans forward and draws a straight red line from Toledo to Chicago, then all the way down to Houston, Texas.

“This is your first main danger point,” she says, tapping Chicago. She runs her finger down to St. Louis, Missouri. “This is your second one.”

“Why?” Zeke asks.

“They’re both major cities and the tracks run straight through them,” the Commander explains. “And where there are cities, there are arenas.”

I shudder at the thought.

“So we go around them,” I say. “Adds a day or two to the journey, but it’s not worth the risk.”

General Reece frowns. “You can’t go around them,” she states, blandly. “You’ll be on a train.”

I pause and draw my eyebrows together. “We will?”

“Well yes, of course,” she replies. She taps Toledo again. “The train station is relatively new. It operated throughout most of the war. The chances of it still being operable are highly likely. Especially since all you need is coal. You’ll just need to find an engine still on the tracks, fire up the coal, and you’ll be away.”

Molly lets out a little squeak of surprise. I shake my head, unable to comprehend.

“I’m sorry, you want me to drive a

train

?” I stammer.

“A coal-powered train,” General Reece says with a nod, as if that makes any difference.

I take a seat as I try to catch my breath, completely stunned by the enormity of the journey ahead of me. This journey is going to take me entirely out of my comfort zone.

The Commander looks at me curiously. “If you don’t think you can handle it, Brooke,” he says, “maybe it would be best not to go at all. You’ve made a decent life for yourself here. There’s a group about to head out looking for survivors to start their own colony. You could always go with them. Take your sister. Your friends.”

I shake my head, determined. “No,” I say, forcefully. “I can do this.”

“You can,” Molly agrees.

“We can,” Ryan adds.

I look up at my friends’ faces. They all seem to have so much faith in me, so much belief. They’re willing to leave their home to help me follow my dream.

“Any of you guys ever driven a train before?” I ask.

Everyone breaks into a smile.

*

My arms ache as I heave the last of the supplies into the thirty-foot sailboat, making it rock on the banks of the river. We have a huge stash of weapons; plenty of dried food provisions like cured meat and pickled vegetables; changes of clothes; and a medical kit containing slings, bandages, and antibiotics in case of emergencies.

I then reach over and begin loading the thirty-gallon drums of fuel, knowing how precious each one is as General Reece hands them to me.

“We can only spare four,” she explains, as I load the last one. “You’ll need to sail as much as you can. Use the fuel sparingly, only if you’re in trouble or in bad weather. That engine is really meant for backup, anyway. Remember, this is primarily a sailboat, not a yacht.”

I nod, taking it all in. The Commander’s map is safely stashed in my pocket. Of all the items on board the boat, it is by far the most precious. Without the map, we’ll just be four people wandering through America.

Jack jumps excitedly into the boat, kissing me first, as he always does, and I feel reassured to have the pit bull with us.

Four people and a dog,

I think to myself.

“You ready for this?” Molly asks, coming up to my side.

Her question makes me aware of the flutter of panic in my chest. “I guess,” I reply. Then I look at her and frown. “Why did you decide to come with me?”

The corners of her lips turn up. “You might be the best shooter in Fort Noix, but you’re not going to get very far without the second best watching your back.”

She says it in her usual dry way. But I read between the lines of her sarcasm. She’s coming because I’m her friend and she wants to help me. The thought is beyond comforting.

Jack starts barking at something in the distance, and I look over to see figures approaching.

“Looks like our farewell party has arrived,” Ryan says.

A group of guards comes up to Ryan, clapping him on the shoulder and embracing him. There are people there for Molly and Zeke as well. My stomach drops at the realization that no one has come to say goodbye to me. A part of me understands Ben not being here. His PTSD has driven a wedge between us and we’ve grown apart over the last six months. And Charlie, of course, won’t be here unless Bree is. But it’s Bree’s absence that hurts me the most. I know she’s mad at me but I wish she would at least come to say goodbye. It reminds me, painfully, of the way I let my dad walk out of my life all those years ago. I’d refused to say goodbye to him because I’d seen him hit my mom and was mad about him leaving us for the army. In my darker moments, that memory has haunted me.

As I’m dwelling in my emotions, I suddenly catch sight of a figure standing a little way behind the others. It’s Ben.

My heart leaps at the sight of him. I always thought Ben was handsome, with his soft features and gentle eyes, but right now he looks beautiful, standing so still like a statue in the midday sunshine.

He notices me looking but doesn’t approach. I wonder if he was planning on just watching me leave and think maybe I shouldn’t say anything to him. Then I decide that I don’t care about his poignancy, and head toward him.

“You came to say goodbye,” I say as I walk up to him.

He shakes his head. “I came because I wanted to come with you.”

His words shock me. We’ve barely spoken for six months and now he’s telling me he wants to up and leave Fort Noix to be with me.

“You do?” I stammer.

He nods, his expression pained. “I did. But this was as far as I could go.”

I look him up and down, frozen to the spot as though with fear. The group of well-wishers are down by the shoreline. Ben’s PTSD has stopped him from getting any closer.

Once again, I feel guilty about leaving him here. He’s managed so far to just about present himself as well enough. He’s kept himself beneath the radar. But what if my leaving triggers something in him, makes him worse?

“Are you going to be okay, Ben?” I say.

He nods, but I can see tears glittering in his eyes. The sight of them makes my own emotions threaten to choke me. Ben’s been by my side more or less since Bree was kidnapped. We’ve been together through everything. The last six months as he’s pulled away from me has made me unaware of just much I will miss him.

Suddenly, I realize how much of a jerk I’ve been to Ben. I’ve been pushing him away for months, unable to deal with his detached, grief-stricken ways. I’d run to Ryan like a moth to a flame, wanting to be with someone who wasn’t so damaged, to have a friendship where for once I didn’t have to be the strong one. Bree’s right. I am an idiot.

I fly into Ben’s arms and hold him tightly, so tightly I can feel his heart beating against my chest.

“Come with me,” I whisper into his ear. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “I wish I could,” he replies, his voice tremulous. “You have no idea how much I wish I could.”

I pull away from the embrace, feeling like my heart is splintering into a thousand pieces.

“Look after Bree,” I say, quickly wiping the tears from my eye.

Then I turn and head back to the boat.

“You ready?” Ryan asks, offering his hand to help me into the boat.

I don’t take it, just step onto the boat beside him.

“Let’s do this,” I say.

We raise the sails together. I yank on the coarse lines and already my palms are burning; it takes more power to raise the sails than I’d imagined. They rise slowly, one foot at a time, and I must use all the leverage of my body to get them up. Molly helps beside me, while Ryan leans over the hull and raises the anchor. Zeke secures the lines and turns the rudder, and a moment later, I experience the most incredible feeling: we are moving. The wind catches our sail, and foot by foot we begin to leave shoreline and gain momentum.

I look back, taking one long, last look. I wonder if I will ever see this place again. My heart aches from my goodbye with Ben, from knowing I can never come back.

“Look, Brooke,” Molly says.

I see all the people amassing on the shore, standing on the banks, saluting. The four of us salute back. I wish my dad could see me now.

We stand there, saluting each other, as the boat drifts farther and farther away. Then, farther down the shoreline, we see another group of people. It’s the Forest Dwellers. They wave, clap, and cheer. I see that Trixie is there at the front, her giant bunny in her arms. The sight of her reminds me why I am doing this; to make the world safer for everyone.

We wave back, feeling like superstars. The sounds of the cheers make me smile.

That’s when I notice that one person isn’t waving or smiling like the others. It’s Bree. She’s standing beside Trixie, with Charlie clutching her arm on the other side. She watches me, silently, her chin tipped up.

I let my waving hand drop. As the boat sails past, we continue to watch each other, our gazes locked together. I watch the figure of my little sister grow smaller and smaller as the distance between us lengthens. I watch until she is nothing more than a smudge on the horizon. My heart breaks as it never has, as I am filled with waves of self-doubt and guilt.

Then I turn around and face the open water, ready to take on the rest of my life.

Ready to find my father.