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Stick To The Shadows

RILEY

Remember who you are. If you do that, you have nothing to worry about. Those were the words Amaia had scribbled on a note stuck on the door of our shared space upon departure last night. She was on her way to a neighboring settlement in San Jose. This would be the first time she left Monterey since I’d arrived. Today was a new beginning. While my duties to Amaia had varied in nature, manning the gates had been newly appointed under my wing.

Prescott’s suggestion to which I had politely declined until Amaia agreed that there was no better place to have her back than controlling who had access inside. Who we allowed a chance inside was up to me and my men. Our team was small—only Mohammed, me, and a handful of others—but it would fulfill our needs for now.

We couldn’t go on this way forever. The planning was something I was still working out, but once we vetted the rest of the soldiers Amaia recommended, we’d be off to a solid start. A few weeks max.

The reminder to remember who I was hadn’t come as a surprise. The past few months had left me questioning myself. Now that I had settled into my role and with Amaia and Jax spending an obsessive amount of time together, my spare moments were left for nothing but reflection. Who was I really? Without my sister, without Amaia, without this place … who was I? What did I want my future to look like? Because I had that now, a future.

Mohammed shoved Jax into me as we made our way through The Compound after a sunrise training session. They laughed, Jax baiting Mohammed on the way his eye twitched as a tell before he tossed a kick in The Ring.

“ Best you pray that when war comes knockin’ at our doorstep, they aren’t interested in a good brawl,” Jax teased, only to be tripped up by Mohammed in jest.

“At least my girl can’t put me on my ass.”

I stifled a laugh at Mohammed’s dig. For as long as I’d been here, I’d never seen Jax beat her in The Ring and it wasn’t for his lack of trying. It was reassuring to say the least. With the constant clashing of different settlements over land or trade, something was brewing, though I wasn’t sure war was quite it. It was why she’d left The Compound after all.

“I’m getting a bit worried, ya know?” Wrinkles formed around his eyes as he looked toward me. “You’re there, we all share quarters. It’s no secret Amaia’s not sleeping again, and she’s knocking back more than her fair share. She’s spiraling. I know you, Riley. You’ve been hovering like a hawk, I know you see it.”

“Seems to be the same Lieutenant from when I arrived if you ask me. If you want to be concerned, I’d worry about Banks making his move. He’s been asking around about her. Wondering if it’s official. Considering he went out on that mission with her …” Mohammed said in an attempt to quiet the concerns and change course.

Jax freed himself from Mohammed’s jerking grasp. “I’m working on it.”

“Well, work harder,” Mohammed said smugly, swiping his silky black hair back into a neater bun. “We’ve been settled a year, man. Almost ten thousand strong inside the walls, not counting the people nearby. Our defenses are good. Forget about stressing over the home front. I mean, come on, this is it. What are we waiting for? The world to fall apart all over again? Death? Screw that. I can’t do ‘what ifs’ anymore. Thinking about starting a family, setting down some roots.

“Aye, really? Congrats.” Jax’s catlike eyes brightened in response.

“It’s a simple thought for now,” Mohammed said, though his disposition hadn’t changed, the tone of his voice turned grave. “Yasmin and I are allowing Allah to bless us as intended.”

Their chatter faded into the background. As much as I wanted Mohammed’s hopefulness to provide me comfort, I knew things were never that simple. To let your guard down was to give up. We needed to remain vigilant, especially because we had a lot to protect.

We rounded the corner, the recently completed Kitchens now in sight. The aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee wafted in the air and mixed with the medicinal flora near the entrance. It was such an adjustment compared to the last two years. Shit, an adjustment for damn near my entire life. This was the first time I’d had a stable, consistent source of food and housing in, well … ever.

“I can count on you though.” Jax nudged me gently. “Right, lad?”

Whatever the two of them were on about now didn’t matter. Not when the hairs on the back of my neck raised in warning. I looked around. “Mhmm. Yeah, sure,” I said as I scanned our immediate area.

A figure striding in a quick pace away from the other side of The Garden’s nagged my attention. Fruit and a loaf of bread fell from his jacket. He was tall and lean, his skin the color of oak. Around sixteen if I had to guess. As if he sensed my eyes on him, he took off running, peering over his shoulder.

Neither Jax nor Mohammed showed any signs of noticing him. I sent a dragonfly after him, tracking where he was headed. Chasing after him felt wrong. I knew that look of starvation. The desperation that came with it. There was only one problem scratching that soft spot in my brain: if he’s here, then he’s safe. So why did he feel the need to steal?

Denial’s not really your thing. Amaia was right, it wasn’t. The situation was clear as day and I recognized it for what it was. That fear that if you didn’t secure your next meal, then you risked the possibility of spending the rest of your life wondering if you would ever have one again. He was hoarding because he thought he had to. That lack of security in one’s home and resources were damning. Infectious. And as sorry as I was for the kid, I couldn’t let it spread.

Stick to the shadows, Riley, stick to the shadows.

Damnit. “I’ll meet you there,” I called over my shoulder as I swiveled on my heels. “Forgot Amaia asked me to bring Prescott some maps for daily stand up.”

Taking off after him, I kept a slight jog until I was out of their view then upped my pace. Having undergone the slow and steady training process of mastering my gifts, I kept tabs on him through the whispers of the dragonfly passed on through space and time. Perhaps I would never truly understand how my gifts worked in totality. If that was how things were meant to be, then I wouldn’t question it. There was a point in life when knowing too many answers to the questions of the universe became taxing. The line being drawn here was alright for now.

The newer construction of homes were brick cottage style homes made the feel of the area seem like a village straight out of a fairy tale. I’d been more of a space opera guy than fantasy, but from what Amaia described, it’d been executed perfectly. Medieval almost. This section hadn’t been fully populated yet, the vacancy on many of the side streets apparent by the lack of various greenery outside the homes. Prescott had insisted on making the best use of all space even though we had The Gardens.

I didn’t need the dragonfly to make me aware of where he ended up. The rebound of the door clued me in as I rounded the corner. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to keep my eyes open. Stumbling to a walk my focus held. It was imperative I learned to multitask as my mind was two places at once. Keeping my wits about me in my immediate surroundings was a life skill I couldn’t abandon, yet knowing what awaited me inside before entering could be the difference between life or death.

There’d been virtually no crime here outside of emotion fueled fights regarding survival and close quarters. Things you’d expect when a large group of strangers that likely wouldn’t have ever co-existed in the same space were now forced to learn to work together as a collective. To put their differences aside in favor of The Compound.

It took a moment for anything inside to answer my call but sure enough, an eight-legged friend did. I smiled in accomplishment. From the web in the corner of the front entrance, it relayed the message that he was alone. I crept toward the door and weighed over what to do next. On one hand, he was stealing from the group, which could not go uncorrected. On the other, Amaia had helped me as Prescott had helped her.

It doesn’t matter. That’s not your role. Your role is to obey your orders and your orders are to protect this place. To protect her. You cannot protect her if you allow dissent. I shook off the thought, my locs slapping against my cheeks. He was a kid.

Stick to the shadows, London’s words hammered. The words a harsh reminder for what happens when you don’t. No. He’s just a kid, and he’s alone. Where are his parents? Does he have parents? Too many unanswered questions left me feeling uneasy. It was worth investigating for those questions alone.

No one was out in the area and fiddling with the door knob could send him fleeing out the back door. Shifting back on my left heel, I kicked the door right beneath the lock. It slammed against the wall revealing an empty house. No furniture in sight meant it wasn’t on the shortlist for any newcomers anytime soon. Which also meant he had no business being here, answering one of my questions.

The boy was nowhere in sight though there were still rooms up the steps to clear. That sixth sense in me screamed for me to halt as I made my way up the steps. Something was off. I just couldn’t place what. My foot creaked under the floorboard at the top as the door to the first room peeled open. Pivoting in my approach, I allowed my instincts took over, meeting him head on. His shoulder slammed into my stomach with more weight than I’d assess him of having. I was taller and stronger though, the match was never fair to begin with. All it took was a well-timed shove, and he was on his ass.

He gave up with ease. The hopelessness in his maple colored eyes broke me. Scanning the room, I noticed a stash of food in the corner then turned back toward him. Recognition set in. I knew this face. Had been debriefed about him yesterday morning. He’d gone missing from the orphanage this week. Orphanage wasn’t fair; it was more of a group home situation, but the kids there actually appeared to receive some sort of love. They’d all lost parents whether it had been on the onset of this new way of life, on the way here, or while their parents had been away on duty.

There had been some debate on whether we should search for him. I’d argued we should, as had Amaia. Jax, Prescott, and the council had been on the opposing side, however. Since he was over the age of sixteen, he was an adult in the time of an apocalypse as far as they were concerned. I couldn’t blame them. He’d made it here on his own but had a hard time staying with any of his foster placements. The list of who would take kids in was short considering the way of the world, which had led him to the group home. The opposition of continuing a search had been cut down to two very simple reasons: a lack of resources and the fact that they felt he was capable of making his own decisions since he chose to run off.

I knew otherwise.

After waiting ten long years for an adoption that would never come, I knew the value of missing that familial support. I could only imagine how he was feeling now. Amaia and I had agreed to keep an eye out for him. What would happen to him once we found him, we hadn’t thought that far out. The face stared up at me with wide, panicked eyes and quickened breath answered my final sought after question of the day …

I knew who I was. I was the man who stuck to the shadows and helped where I could. When I could.

“Abel Montgomery, we’ve been looking for you.”