William climbed the stairs at Gracie’s side, but before they stepped clear of the station, she threw her right arm across him and halted him mid-step. She pulled him back down into the shadows.
The others waited behind them in the train station and held their collective breaths. Even Olga had fallen silent. All of them had fixed on the man no more than fifty feet away.
Chapter 6
One man. Although, not really a man. A man like William had been a man when he’d gone on national service. A man in responsibility only. A man when someone needed bodies to perform duties, like build a wall or go into battle. A man to make it sound like he’d made his own choice to fight for the cause, to take part in a war that will never end. He wore blue trousers that looked like they were part of a uniform. A uniform that had been torn from him. He’d been left naked from the waist up. A sharp crease ran down the front of each trouser leg. At least they dressed them nicely before they sent them to be slaughtered. The trousers were dark. They glistened with the man’s blood and probably a lot more besides. William leaned close to Gracie, keeping his voice low. “That’s one of the soldiers?”
She nodded. “Fear wear blue. Fury wear red.”
The boy hung chained between two vertical steel poles about twenty feet apart. The poles stood fifteen feet tall and had large glass spheres on top. How they’d remained intact for so long … In the past, the spheres would have glowed, lighting the city at night. The chains had been tied around the boy’s ankles and wrists, stretching him into a star and suspending him like a fly caught in a web. His head hung limp, his weak, hairless torso rocking with his exhausted breaths.
Matilda spoke in a whisper. “What have they done to him?”
“They’re bleeding him out,” Gracie said.
“You’ve seen this done before?”
Gracie shrugged. “Variations of it, yes. They would have cut deep into the back of both of his thighs before tying him up for everyone to see.”
Hawk appeared behind them and said, “Jeez!” his voice shooting out into the city.
Gracie pressed her finger to her lips. “Shh!”
Although he spoke with the breathy hiss of an attempted whisper, Hawk hadn’t lowered his volume. He pointed at the boy. “He’s still alive. Surely we need to do something?”
“There’s nothing we can do to help him.” Gracie shook her head. “Even if we do free him, he’s already dead.”
“So we just leave him?”
“Hawk, when I said you need to trust me, I didn’t mean some of the time. You need to trust every one of my decisions.”
“What is this, a dictatorship?” Olga said.
“Exactly!” Hawk had grown even louder.
“Will you keep your damn voice down?” Gracie stamped her foot.
Hawk climbed the stairs. He stood just inches from Gracie, who raised her chin in defiance.
William jumped when the hunter burst away from the group, charging towards the street.
With one swing of the blunt end of her spear, Gracie cleaned out Hawks’ feet. His shins bore the brunt of his fall, slamming against the stairs’ metal edges.
Hawk rolled over onto his back. His face twisted as he coiled his right leg, showing Gracie the sole of his boot. But before he could connect with his attack, William kicked his foot away, redirecting his strike into the metal handrail attached to the wall beside them.
Hawk stood up and launched himself at William. He hit him in the chest, shoulder first, driving both of them back into the station.
The fall winded William, and before he could find his bearings, Hawk climbed on top of him and raised his right fist.
Max, Olga, and Matilda jumped in. They each took a limb, leaving William to grab the leg he’d diverted from striking Gracie. They restrained the wild hunter like the boy in the street above.
The others helped, all of them dragging a kicking and twisting Hawk deeper into the train station.
Possessed with a strength that proved a match for them all, Hawk continued to fight and turn. Hissing and spitting, he shook and writhed. He grunted through clenched teeth, his voice echoing in the enclosed space.
“Shut up!” Gracie hissed.
Hawk drew a breath to scream again, but before it left his mouth, Olga let go of his arm and drove a right cross into his chin. The crack of the connection rivalled any noise Hawk could have made, and the hunter fell limp.
Her fist still balled, Olga panted like the rest of them, standing over Hawk as if daring him to come around. She eventually looked at Gracie, her teeth gritted, her nostrils flared. Gracie dipped her a nod she didn’t return.
William and the others went back to the stairs. “What are we waiting for?” he said. “Not that I agree with Hawk’s methods, but surely we have to do something? Let him down at least. The kid needs our help.”
Gracie shook her head. “This isn’t our war.”
“Since when do we turn our back on suffering like that?”
William followed Gracie’s line of sight. At first it looked like shifting shadows. A trick of the light, even. But then the scenery came to life. The hunched and scrawny form of a man stepped into the road. Long hair, a long beard, and so skinny he looked like a skeleton with skin. His clothes hung from him in rags, and the moonlight showed he only had a few teeth remaining in his mouth.
He sniffed the air as if guided towards the restrained soldier by scent.
“It’s always just a matter of time before the scavengers turn up,” Gracie said. “Had Hawk rushed out, they would have seen us. Believe me, you don’t want to be fighting them if you can avoid it.”
“Whose side are they on?” Dianna said.
“No one’s.” Gracie shook her head. “They live in the city. They get by however they
