The Wheel: A Young Adult Dystopian Novel (Nightfall Book 1) by Cynthia Hickey (new books to read .TXT) 📕

and you’re right. I’ll do better. I promise.” We were all in this together, able to fight or not. It would do me well to remember that fact.

16

It took two days to pull the wagons down the street. Two days full of fighting, bone-numbing exhaustion, and bloody hands as we continued to move obstacles out of our way.

At least traveling at night kept the numbers of Malignants to a minimum but the further we traveled, the more we started to see. We couldn’t go more than a couple of blocks before being attacked by at least five of the beasts.

“This is going to take a very long time.” Kira leaned heavily on the wagon. “We don’t make five miles a day.”

I agreed. The mountain seemed to get farther away instead of closer. “Today’s Sunday. We’ll wait for the drop here.” I stared down a cracked street full of abandoned vehicles. A few buildings had toppled adding to the piles of stuff to be cleared. I grew more tired thinking of the work.

The rasp of stone against metal mingled with the groans of our weary group as Fawke sharpened his sword. He motioned for me to lay my sword next to him. Too tired to tell him I could do it myself, I set it on the ground then pulled my container of black paint from my bag.

“Since we now know the chips won’t kill us, why don’t you wipe those black stripes off your face instead of reapplying them?” Ezra asked, headed for the sleeping wagon.

I shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to them.” They’d actually become a sort of badge to me to remind me of who I am now. The old Crynn seemed like a stranger.

“He’s right,” Fawke said. “We wouldn’t have to wear the scarves if you didn’t paint the stripes.”

“I like the scarf. It cuts down on the stench.” Not to mention the odor of the constantly burning gas fires.

“Hides part of your pretty face.” He grinned and continued sharpening.

He thought I was pretty? I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see the blush I knew colored my face. I’d never cared what a man thought about me before. It didn’t do anyone any good to form romantic relationships until they knew what fate the wheel decided for them. Now, here I was, with a job that didn’t invite romance. At least not in my near future.

I bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them. What I wanted was sleep, but there’d be little of that. We’d need more than two people to fetch the crate when it arrived. Would another unlucky eighteen-year-old arrive with it?

Seeing the chopper in the distance, I got to my feet. At least we wouldn’t have to travel far. The road in front of us provided the perfect drop.

A few buildings down, three men stepped from a building. “We have company.”

Fawke stood. “They’re after the drop. Up everyone. Weapons in hand. We can’t let them beat us to it.” He tossed me my sword.

I caught it. “Shane and Lara stay behind and guard the supplies.”

Without waiting for confirmation, I led the group at a run to where the crate started to fall. The strangers also sprinted toward the supplies. I raised my gun and fired a few feet in front of them.

They faltered but kept going as if they knew I didn’t want to shoot them.

“I don’t have a problem with it.” Ezra took aim, shooting one of them in the leg.

His comrades took the screaming man by the arm and tried to drag him away. I shot again. “Drop him.” I had some questions to ask the man. “Ezra, Dante, get the crate.”

The two men ran in the opposite direction as Malignants raced toward us. Fawke and I raced to reach the fallen man before the creatures did. When we reached him, we hoisted him on our shoulders and half-ran, half-dragged him back to the others.

“Stop screaming or I’ll finish the job.” I pushed his arm off my shoulders and pulled my sword.

The others formed a fighting circle around the crate, except for Kira, who bound the man’s leg. It didn’t take us long to finish off the small group of Malignants.

“Thanks for not shooting to kill,” I told Ezra.

“Figured you wanted to know more about this group we’re after.” He tossed the man over his shoulder, leaving Jolt to take his place in carrying the crate, and jogged back to the wagons.

By the time the rest of us joined them, he had the man tied to the wheel and Lara worked on cleaning his wound. “It’s only a graze,” she said. “He’ll live.”

“Of course, he will.” Ezra scowled. “If I wanted him dead, he would be.” He grabbed a crowbar and pried open the crate. “More oats, more water purification pills, a few medical supplies, no luxury items.” He spit. “Not even a weapon or extra blankets. Soriah is getting stingy.”

I still had the pack I wanted to barter with, but wanted to hold onto it until we needed something very badly. “We’ve survived this long. Maybe we’ll run across another scavenger.” I turned to our prisoner.

“Who are you?”

“I’m not talking.”

I put the tip of my sword to his throat. “Then we have no reason to keep you alive.”

“Fine. I’m a scout. Name is Rob.”

“From the mountain?” I pressed the tip a tad tighter against his skin.

“Yes. My buddies will come for me.”

“I doubt it. They ran off pretty fast to be loyal to you.”

“That’s because of those things. Not you.” He pit at my feet.

Ezra kicked him. “Don’t talk to our leader that way.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Leader? You’re barely out of diapers.”

“She’s mean enough to end your miserable life.”

I put up a hand to