Judgement: The Undergrounders Series Book Three (A Young Adult Post-apocalyptic Science Fiction Thriller) by Norma Hinkens Page A
Authors: Norma Hinkens
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clones on the trail ahead of us.
He presses his lips together, his expression strained. For several minutes he continues pounding his way through the brush, and then he comes to a halt and turns to me. "How does Viktor know about this?"
"Same way he intercepted the transmission from the Megamedes. He hacked into Lyong's files."
"All speculation," Sven says. "The scientists at the outpost could have been exaggerating their progress."
"I don't think so. Lyong was planning to take Sook there."
The dubious expression on Sven's face morphs into one of curiosity.
I bite my lip, trying to keep from grinning wildly. "Viktor's going to secure the outpost's coordinates."
A deep flush creeps over Sven's face. His amber eyes lock with mine. For one dreadful moment I think he's going to tell me that I'm wasting my time, chasing a fantasy, that we should give up on the dream of growing old together, but before I realize what's happening his lips are pressed to mine, smooth and potent, an explosion from which I know I will never recover.
When he releases me, the fragments of my brain slowly resurface, and I become aware of a pair of military clones observing us in icy silence. I steal a harried glance at Sven. He lifts his brows, somehow asking my forgiveness while looking remarkably unrepentant.
"You fell behind," one of the clones says, staring at me. "We came back to check on you."
Cheeks burning, I beat a hasty retreat after the rest of the group, savoring the taste of Sven's lips on mine.
We follow the Rogues' trail for a couple of hours until we reach a fast-flowing stream where we break to let the horses drink. Jody wanders off and comes back a few minutes later. "We're closing in on them," she says. "We should go on foot from here. There's a copse up ahead. It's not far from the trail, but well-concealed. We can leave the horses tethered there."
"We need to work out a plan to rescue Curly," Sven says.
"We won't have the advantage of Lou's arrows this time," Jody says. "We'll have to wait until nightfall to rescue him."
I furrow my brow. "That's exactly what The Ghost will be expecting us to do. We need to think more along the lines of ambush."
Sven folds his arms across his chest. "What kind of ambush?"
"Something that will make them scatter and give us a chance to get Curly out," I say. "We'll attack on two fronts. Once they're camped for the night, half of us can push ahead on the trail and climb up into the trees and wait for them. When they come through, we'll pick them off, while the rest of us strike from the rear. The Rogues will be confused and forced to split up to defend themselves, and that's when the riders swoop in and rescue Curly."
"I like it," Sven says.
Jody massages her brow. "We'll need to do some recon before the Rogues break for camp. I want to find out how they're transporting Curly, how many guards are assigned to him, that sort of thing. If Curly's on his feet, it will make our getaway easier. If he's injured, it will complicate things."
"I'll come with you," I say.
Jody nods. Without another word she turns and slips into the brush.
My eyes linger on Sven's for a moment, before I follow Jody into the undergrowth.
A pair of squirrels exchange a burst of sharp chatter and disappear with a flick of their tails up into a nearby pine tree as we go by. The ground is still damp, muffling the sound of our footsteps, but we tread with caution nonetheless. Even a snapped twig would be enough to herald our approach to a patrol so we take the time to weave around obstacles in our path.
Visibility is hampered by the copious undergrowth and the canopy of greenery up above, beyond which I can make out a few smudges of a silver-gray sky. I wipe my sleeve over my sweaty forehead and reach around to the side pocket of my pack for my water canteen.
All at once Jody drops and motions to me to do the same. I flatten myself beneath the understory and peer out, searching for any sign of movement. Minutes tick
He presses his lips together, his expression strained. For several minutes he continues pounding his way through the brush, and then he comes to a halt and turns to me. "How does Viktor know about this?"
"Same way he intercepted the transmission from the Megamedes. He hacked into Lyong's files."
"All speculation," Sven says. "The scientists at the outpost could have been exaggerating their progress."
"I don't think so. Lyong was planning to take Sook there."
The dubious expression on Sven's face morphs into one of curiosity.
I bite my lip, trying to keep from grinning wildly. "Viktor's going to secure the outpost's coordinates."
A deep flush creeps over Sven's face. His amber eyes lock with mine. For one dreadful moment I think he's going to tell me that I'm wasting my time, chasing a fantasy, that we should give up on the dream of growing old together, but before I realize what's happening his lips are pressed to mine, smooth and potent, an explosion from which I know I will never recover.
When he releases me, the fragments of my brain slowly resurface, and I become aware of a pair of military clones observing us in icy silence. I steal a harried glance at Sven. He lifts his brows, somehow asking my forgiveness while looking remarkably unrepentant.
"You fell behind," one of the clones says, staring at me. "We came back to check on you."
Cheeks burning, I beat a hasty retreat after the rest of the group, savoring the taste of Sven's lips on mine.
We follow the Rogues' trail for a couple of hours until we reach a fast-flowing stream where we break to let the horses drink. Jody wanders off and comes back a few minutes later. "We're closing in on them," she says. "We should go on foot from here. There's a copse up ahead. It's not far from the trail, but well-concealed. We can leave the horses tethered there."
"We need to work out a plan to rescue Curly," Sven says.
"We won't have the advantage of Lou's arrows this time," Jody says. "We'll have to wait until nightfall to rescue him."
I furrow my brow. "That's exactly what The Ghost will be expecting us to do. We need to think more along the lines of ambush."
Sven folds his arms across his chest. "What kind of ambush?"
"Something that will make them scatter and give us a chance to get Curly out," I say. "We'll attack on two fronts. Once they're camped for the night, half of us can push ahead on the trail and climb up into the trees and wait for them. When they come through, we'll pick them off, while the rest of us strike from the rear. The Rogues will be confused and forced to split up to defend themselves, and that's when the riders swoop in and rescue Curly."
"I like it," Sven says.
Jody massages her brow. "We'll need to do some recon before the Rogues break for camp. I want to find out how they're transporting Curly, how many guards are assigned to him, that sort of thing. If Curly's on his feet, it will make our getaway easier. If he's injured, it will complicate things."
"I'll come with you," I say.
Jody nods. Without another word she turns and slips into the brush.
My eyes linger on Sven's for a moment, before I follow Jody into the undergrowth.
A pair of squirrels exchange a burst of sharp chatter and disappear with a flick of their tails up into a nearby pine tree as we go by. The ground is still damp, muffling the sound of our footsteps, but we tread with caution nonetheless. Even a snapped twig would be enough to herald our approach to a patrol so we take the time to weave around obstacles in our path.
Visibility is hampered by the copious undergrowth and the canopy of greenery up above, beyond which I can make out a few smudges of a silver-gray sky. I wipe my sleeve over my sweaty forehead and reach around to the side pocket of my pack for my water canteen.
All at once Jody drops and motions to me to do the same. I flatten myself beneath the understory and peer out, searching for any sign of movement. Minutes tick
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