Judgement: The Undergrounders Series Book Three (A Young Adult Post-apocalyptic Science Fiction Thriller) by Norma Hinkens Page B
Authors: Norma Hinkens
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by before the faint sound of voices drifts toward me. Jody crawls lizard-like over to me. "They're east of us," she whispers. "If we climb up on that ridge we can get a good look." She points at a steep slope, slick with soggy half-mulched leaves and patches of rotten bracken. A few stringy roots offer the only helping hand up.
"We'll have to take a run at it," I say. I rummage around in my pack for Jerome's binoculars and hang them around my neck, before tossing my pack to one side.
Jody rests her pack up against mine. "Ready when you are."
Together we charge the slope and reach for the roots. I dig my toes into the wall of dirt and pull with all my strength to work myself up. My wiry contortions beat Jody to it and I realize with satisfaction that I've grown stronger in the past few months.
We take a minute to catch our breath and then jog up a more gently sloping section to the very top of the ridge. I kneel and train my binoculars on a clearing on the trail up ahead. Within minutes, the first Rogues emerge from the trees. They tromp along, single file, rifles slung casually over their shoulders. I spot The Ghost almost at once, his casual gait belying the cunning that lurks inside his whip-thin frame. Blade follows a few feet behind him, a wool cap pulled low over his eyes. The nape of my neck prickles at the sight of him. "The Ghost's near the front," I whisper to Jody, all too conscious of how far my voice might carry from the ridge top.
"Any sign of Curly?" she asks.
I shake my head, keeping my binoculars trained on the ant-like procession. I count seventeen Rogues go by, before I finally spot him, staggering along on a leash behind a short, pudgy Rogue with a duck-like stride. "Got him!" I shove the binoculars at Jody.
She grimaces. "Looks like he's limping."
"How many Rogues are behind him?" I ask.
"Two ... three ... I think that's it. No, here come a bunch more."
Jody thrusts the binoculars back at me. "I don't want to wait until morning. Curly's not in good shape. I say we take our chances and attack as soon as it turns dark. Even if they're waiting for us this time, we'll have the advantage with the military clones and their enhanced vision."
Without waiting for my response, Jody turns and strides off down the slope. I jump up, still clutching the binoculars, and break into a jog after her. My heel slips in the loose dirt and I tumble forward, grasping in vain with my free hand at a branch just out of reach as I careen down the mulch-covered slope to the forest floor below. I land with a soft thud in a bed of leaves and pine needles and scramble to my hands and knees, unhurt, but shaking with fear. I stretch out my fingers for the strap of the binoculars and pull them toward me, heart pounding. Did the Rogues hear me fall? I grab my pack and gun and hunker down in the brush. A few feet behind me, a woodpecker hammers furiously on the bark of a nearby tree. I jerk my head in the bird's direction and freeze when a tattooed face peers back at me.
8
R ummy !
My thoughts zap around in my head like I'm being electrocuted. Should I run? Shoot before he does? Yell to warn Jody? I take a shallow breath, toxic fear flooding my lungs. I can't wait for him to make the first move. My fingers tighten around the barrel of my gun. When I raise it, Rummy puts a finger to his lips and flattens himself against the trunk of a tree.
A swishing sound stills my heartbeat. The thud of footsteps. Someone's moving through the understory toward us. The hair on my clammy skin stands on end. The Rogues must have heard something. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen. The rustling stops, and I hear the sound of someone relieving himself in the bushes only a few feet from me. I hold my breath until the swishing resumes and the footsteps fade away.
When I dare to peek out again, Rummy has disappeared. I scan the surrounding trees and peer nervously over my shoulder, but I can't spot him anywhere. I wait for what seems like an eternity
"We'll have to take a run at it," I say. I rummage around in my pack for Jerome's binoculars and hang them around my neck, before tossing my pack to one side.
Jody rests her pack up against mine. "Ready when you are."
Together we charge the slope and reach for the roots. I dig my toes into the wall of dirt and pull with all my strength to work myself up. My wiry contortions beat Jody to it and I realize with satisfaction that I've grown stronger in the past few months.
We take a minute to catch our breath and then jog up a more gently sloping section to the very top of the ridge. I kneel and train my binoculars on a clearing on the trail up ahead. Within minutes, the first Rogues emerge from the trees. They tromp along, single file, rifles slung casually over their shoulders. I spot The Ghost almost at once, his casual gait belying the cunning that lurks inside his whip-thin frame. Blade follows a few feet behind him, a wool cap pulled low over his eyes. The nape of my neck prickles at the sight of him. "The Ghost's near the front," I whisper to Jody, all too conscious of how far my voice might carry from the ridge top.
"Any sign of Curly?" she asks.
I shake my head, keeping my binoculars trained on the ant-like procession. I count seventeen Rogues go by, before I finally spot him, staggering along on a leash behind a short, pudgy Rogue with a duck-like stride. "Got him!" I shove the binoculars at Jody.
She grimaces. "Looks like he's limping."
"How many Rogues are behind him?" I ask.
"Two ... three ... I think that's it. No, here come a bunch more."
Jody thrusts the binoculars back at me. "I don't want to wait until morning. Curly's not in good shape. I say we take our chances and attack as soon as it turns dark. Even if they're waiting for us this time, we'll have the advantage with the military clones and their enhanced vision."
Without waiting for my response, Jody turns and strides off down the slope. I jump up, still clutching the binoculars, and break into a jog after her. My heel slips in the loose dirt and I tumble forward, grasping in vain with my free hand at a branch just out of reach as I careen down the mulch-covered slope to the forest floor below. I land with a soft thud in a bed of leaves and pine needles and scramble to my hands and knees, unhurt, but shaking with fear. I stretch out my fingers for the strap of the binoculars and pull them toward me, heart pounding. Did the Rogues hear me fall? I grab my pack and gun and hunker down in the brush. A few feet behind me, a woodpecker hammers furiously on the bark of a nearby tree. I jerk my head in the bird's direction and freeze when a tattooed face peers back at me.
8
R ummy !
My thoughts zap around in my head like I'm being electrocuted. Should I run? Shoot before he does? Yell to warn Jody? I take a shallow breath, toxic fear flooding my lungs. I can't wait for him to make the first move. My fingers tighten around the barrel of my gun. When I raise it, Rummy puts a finger to his lips and flattens himself against the trunk of a tree.
A swishing sound stills my heartbeat. The thud of footsteps. Someone's moving through the understory toward us. The hair on my clammy skin stands on end. The Rogues must have heard something. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen. The rustling stops, and I hear the sound of someone relieving himself in the bushes only a few feet from me. I hold my breath until the swishing resumes and the footsteps fade away.
When I dare to peek out again, Rummy has disappeared. I scan the surrounding trees and peer nervously over my shoulder, but I can't spot him anywhere. I wait for what seems like an eternity
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