For shit to sell on the black market.
Maybe they’re taking me through the Scavenge Lands as a test? Maybe they’re going to see how familiar I am with the area and then loop back around to the city and to safety. If it is a test, I’m not interested in failing it. I feign a mildly interested look and follow the guards closely as we pick our way through the litter and leaf-covered streets of Old Dallas. Animal life teems on the once-populated streets. Cattle move through in herds, small feral cats dart in and out of old buildings, and there’s constant birdsong coming from the ruins. All the animals are a good sign—it means there are no dragons nearby. When the dragons roll through, the animals are scarce, the birds are non-existent, and the skies utterly silent. Today it’s noisy, and the sun is shining high in the sky. I could almost enjoy a day like this.
Except…no one’s talking. No one’s looking twice at the game or even showing interest in the junk we pass by. A scavenger would check everything, hunt even the smallest squirrel. These soldiers aren’t interested in any of that, which means I am in some serious deep doodoo. “So,” I say casually. “Where are we going?”
No one answers. I’m not surprised. Whatever is going on, I’m clearly going to be left in the dark.
“Oh really? There?” I say sarcastically, pretending I have an answer. “Why, that’s my favorite place. You guys are so thoughtful.”
The captain of the guard glances back at me, a pensive look on his face. He seems conflicted despite the fact that he’s the one that volunteered me. “Everything will be made clear shortly, prisoner.”
“Yippee,” I mutter. I glance around the half-fallen buildings around me, wondering why we’re heading farther into the heart of old downtown. Rumor has it that dragons are known to roost in the tallest of buildings. And where are the tallest buildings? Why, old downtown.
Even a desperate scavenger such as myself isn’t dumb enough to head there.
I grow more and more wary as we head deeper into downtown. The soldiers hug their weapons a bit closer and they watch the shadows. The ease of the day has given way to a silent tension that’s making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The only thing that’s saving me from totally losing my shit is the cheery birdsong that tells me we’re still dragon-free. Eventually, we come to a tall skyscraper with most of the windows broken out. It looks sad and decaying, and as we turn and head toward it, I see a jumble of broken wire and metal on the ground. A red Pegasus sign sticks out of the rubble. “Follow us,” the captain says to me, gesturing for the guards to go inside the building.
Unease sweeps through me. “What’s in here?”
No one answers, of course.
We enter the building, the broken floor littered with rubble and rock. There’s shattered glass everywhere and dead leaves scattered in every corner. The breeze whistles through the broken windows.
“Up the stairs.”
Why? What’s up the stairs other than more broken stuff? Do they plan on flinging me off the top of the building? If so…why? Try as I might, I can’t figure out why they’ve brought me here, but I know it’s not good. I can guess that much. But I don’t have much of a choice, so when they nudge me forward, I go with them. A guard props open the double doors with a rock and gestures that I should head up the debris-covered stairs. I do, but the uneasy feeling in my gut grows.
We climb. Up endless flights of stairs, we climb in silence. The guards tromp alongside me, and the only sound is that of the birds outside and the flick of leaves on the floor when a breeze cuts through a hole in the wall. The wind whips the dress about my ankles, and once again it strikes me as a weird choice of clothing for a prisoner.
We get to one of the top floors, and one of the guards pulls open a metal door. Everyone steps through, including me. All of the windows have been busted out of this floor, and birds fly overhead. It feels a bit like we’re out in the open, with nothing but twisted metal and broken frames to separate us from the sky. The place smells like dust and outdoors and a hint of char. There’s warped, faded furniture scattered about, and a few metal beams stick up from the floor at weird angles.
The captain looks back at his men. “This is a good enough spot, I think.”
“Good enough for what?” I ask.
They ignore me again, and the uneasy feeling grows. This place sure is…open. And very high up. Are they going to throw me off the edge and make it look like an accident? If so, why the stupid dress? Why the bath?
One of the men grabs me by my handcuffs, jerking my linked hands forward. He drags me across the room, leaving me no choice but to follow.
“Over here,” the captain points out, and gestures at one of the strange, sticking-up poles. “Use this one.”
Use this one for what? Before I can ask, the guard nods at another, and then I’m lifted off my feet. My arms are dragged over the end of the pole, and then I slide down it and am set back on my feet again.
“Wait, what?” I jerk at my hands, but I’m stuck to the pole. I’m too short to be able to lift my hands and bring the cuffs back over again. “What are you doing?”
A manacle is locked around my foot.
“No!” I scream, terror locking my throat. I tug at the cuffs, but they hold fast. I’m stuck here. The wind whips around my face, fright making my entire body shake. “Please!”
I know what they’re going to do now… They’re going to abandon me up here. Leave me.
I’m…dragon bait. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but the only things that come this high up are big, scaly, and full of fire.
The soldiers move away from me, and I continue to jerk my arms, sobbing. One of the soldiers shifts on his feet, looking over at the others. He seems miserable. “Captain,” he begins, clearly torn.
“No,” says the captain. His face is a grim mask. “It has to be done. Just remember that she’s an outlaw.”
“Even an outlaw doesn’t deserve this, Captain.”
“We don’t have a choice. Either it’ll work and save us, or we’re all doomed.”
I kneel by the chain around my ankle. I can’t quite grab it, not with my hands in the cuffs, but they’re not budging, so I need to try something. “What will work?” I ask, desperate. “What is it we’re doing?”
No one answers me, again. But this time, two of the guards open their packs and draw out long banners of bright red cloth.
My mouth goes dry.
Red.
Oh, fuck me.
Red is the color of bait. No one uses it for anything. Even the crushed, melded cars that make up the walls of Fort Dallas don’t have a single red auto in their midst. Dragons are drawn to red like a charging bull, and that means red things are dangerous things.