Rat City (Rat City #1)

By Tyffani Clark Kemp

Dalia deals in secrets and information. It guarantees her what equates to a charmed life among the ashes and ruin of Curr. But that alone isn't enough to save her from the culling that has slowly wiped out what is left of the city’s human population.
Rat City is a myth, a legend leftover from a time of war, but for Dalia, it is her only saving grace. After a deal goes bad, Dalia is chased halfway across the city and into the arms of William Burke. After tending her wounds, he takes Dalia into his care and offers her a place in their underground society.

When Burke and the city's patriarch fail to return from a simple scouting mission, Dalia insists on going along to find them. But life on the desert prairie is dangerous, and she has a secret of her own that could get her killed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyffani Clark Kemp
• Release date: Jan 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370565450

Tyffani Clark Kemp

Tyffani Clark Kemp might be the quietest person in the room, but that just means she’s probably the biggest freak too. She is a multi-genre author with a gift for the written word and a desire to help all Indies reach their full potential. In 2012, she and her best friend Kimberly Fudge started SideStreet Cookie Publishing for authors who want to remain independent, but don’t have the time or the knowledge to do it all themselves. From the age of eleven she dedicated her life to writing and making sure she was good at her craft. Now, she passes that knowledge on to others. Her friends would describe her as determined and giving. She may be quite, but she always has a story to tell.

Book preview

For my readers; everyone still with me and everyone to come.

I write for you as much as I write for myself.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

About the Author

Other Books by Tyffani Clark Kemp

Other Books from SideStreet Cookie Publishing

Chapter One

My dilapidated boots pounded the rubble-strewn ground. Gravel scattered in every direction as I scrambled in fear for my life. The soles of my shoes were so thin. Rocks and debris dug at my feet as if I was barefoot, but I couldn’t stop, despite the pain. I had been running my entire life; from responsibility, from assassins, from nightmares. Tonight was no exception.

Visibility was nothing more than dancing shadows cast by the flames still flickering where I’d left them behind me. The moon was in its recycle stage, and the farther I ran from Curr’s city center the heavier the dark pressed in. My pursuers were counting on it.

They had night vision goggles.

I did not.

I knew what was left of this city well in the daytime. After dark it was a hazard at best. Tonight, it just might kill me.

A large slab of concrete loomed in my path, outlined momentarily by a flare of flame. I picked up my pace, ran up the side of the slab, and vaulted into the air. My arms flailed to keep me from tipping and my feet kept running despite the lack of traction. I landed and my thin soles skidded and burst on the loose gravel. Something pierced the sole of my foot and I cried out, but I kept going. My feet pounded packed dirt and my heart pounded in my chest.

I wouldn’t get caught.

I couldn’t get caught.

Not after everything I’d done to survive this long. My day would eventually come, but it could not be this day. I had a job to finish and I wouldn’t sully the memory of my parents by failing this soon.

My fingers touched something cool and metal. A fire pit gone cold. Without thinking I grabbed it and threw it behind me out of my way. It hit the ground with a loud clang, too late to stop it from giving away my location. I heard them laugh, heard them say something that chilled me to the bone and pushed my exhausted legs faster.

Get her to the maze, a deep, gravely voice shouted. We can cut her off there.

It was said that there was a maze of sewage tunnels under the decimated city. People had used them to escape the bombs that fell in an attempt to quell the uprising at the change of the government, but I’d lived here in Curr most of my life and I’d never seen the maze. I had known of people who went to check them out and never come back. The maze was supposed to be nothing more than a myth. I couldn’t hang my salvation on something that wasn’t actually there. My lungs and legs burned. Four day’s worth of hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I couldn’t stop running. I would probably never be able to stop running.

I had a plan.

On the southern most edge of what was left of the city were the skeletal remains of large buildings, remnants of what had once been tall buildings where men and women made more money than they knew how to spend. Now, from what I’d heard because I did most of my business on the northern and central-northern side of Curr, they were home to tent cities full of people needing shelter. They would make for some sort of cover. If I could get there I might be able to hide long enough to find a way out of this.

Of course, it was a three-mile run from the center of town to the outer edge and I wasn’t even halfway there. I didn’t have any energy left to give, but I kept running while my body begged to stop and my brain screamed to keep going.

One foot in front of the other.

Don’t stop for fear of being caught.

Run!

I stumbled at the sound of the voice screaming in my head. Waking or sleeping, I heard the screams. They spurred me to keep going. There was death on my conscience and I wouldn’t let it be in vain.

So caught up in my memories, I didn’t realize I’d reached the shantytown that the locals called Edge City until I ran into a hanging tarp.

My first thought was that I’d been caught. Somehow they’d circled around and beat me. But as I struggled free and realized my mistake, I looked back. There was enough light from the Edge City fires that I saw my pursuers. They were close, too close for me to really have outrun them. They were playing with me.

Their mistake.

To hell with them.

Runners! I screamed so the people would know. Someone was coming and they needed to get out of the way before they got trampled and killed.

But the runners weren’t stupid. Not by a long shot. They knew where we were, likely knew these people. I’d assumed this would be my salvation, but I’d played right into their hands.

No matter. I wasn’t stupid either. I hadn’t survived this long just to die tonight. I should have been more careful, should have checked my sources. Should have known that this deal was a setup from the beginning. Part of me did know, but I’d ignored it. I’d been wrong before. I should have trusted my instincts.

I knew I was in trouble when the sound of pursuing feet stopped. They were going around to get in front of me. To try and cut me off. I could turn back and take my chances or make my way through and hope I outsmarted them. Likely, they’d planned for both, but I wouldn’t be able to keep going like this much longer. I was thin, but underfed. I was quick, but only for short spurts and I’d already exceeded my limit a couple times tonight. I was flagging and I need to catch my breath.

There was a trench to my right if I was in the right place. It was used to evade the police when they came through once or twice a month on their rampages. No one who wasn’t familiar with Edge City would know about it. I’d had to use it once or twice myself, so the trench and I had an intimate relationship. I ducked under a tarp and into a hovel. It was dark and didn’t bear the distinct stench of waning life when a hovel was occupied, the smell of rotting food, refuse, and despair. Some would say despair didn’t have a smell, but I knew differently. It clung to the air, thick and cloying like old oil.

I pressed my body to the cool ground and waited the space of three breaths. I heard nothing, not from the people who lived here and not from those who pursued me. For the moment, I was alone.

I crawled slowly across the dirt. The ground dipped and I rolled under the tarp and down into the trench. I landed on something stiff and fleshy, and I knew immediately that it wasn’t a living body. It had probably recently been dumped here. It hadn’t started to smell yet. Quickly, I moved away out of reverence and respect for the recently dead, and forced myself to take deep, calm breaths. I was no stranger to death, but that didn’t mean I wanted it pressed beneath my nose.

My feet pulsed with pain, and my legs felt like rubber. I didn’t know how I would keep running, but I did know that this wasn’t going to end without death.

I waited for what seemed like hours, even though it couldn’t have been. I waited just a little longer than I should have, enjoying the ability to breathe without feeling like I was going to die.

I waited too long.

Strong, rough hands wrapped around my upper arms and pulled me up from the ground in one smooth move. A scream bubbled up from my chest, but I cut it off quickly. I expected to be overpowered by the scent of death and dying that hung around the people who lived in this city. Instead, I was greeted with the pleasant smell of soap and man musk.

I’ve got the runner, the same deep, gravelly, bloodthirsty voice said. It sent a shiver down my spine. I whimpered involuntarily while my feet dangled above the ground and fingers dug bruises into my thin skin.

There wasn’t enough meat on my bones.

There was never enough meat on my bones.

I said a quick prayer of apology to my parents. Their fight would die with me because I had failed them completely.

It’s too bad you stopped, he said. I was about to get tired of chasing you.

Of course he was. Just my luck.

You could just put me down and pretend like you didn’t find me. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew he could see me just fine with his goggles. He knew just how terrified I was.

Nah. I think I’ll just-

His words were cut off with a cry of pain as light flared around us, bright and blinding. It hurt my eyes, but it would burn his with those damned goggles. Served him right. His body jerked in on itself for protection and he dropped me. I didn’t stop to look or think. I was running as hard and as fast as I could before my feet even touched the ground, ignoring the pain in my legs and the way the stones and glass cut through my pointless shoes. I didn’t pray often, but I sent one more prayer heavenward in thanks this time.

I was hungry, my mouth was dry from thirst, and my lungs and legs were ready to give up. Still, I pushed myself as hard as I could.

The only indication that I’d entered a building was the thump of my one boot echoing off of the concrete and the slight reprieve for my poor feet.

The culling had begun eight years ago. That was when I’d lost my family to the government-ordained burning of the people of Cur. To them his city was a blight on the map. The people here were just as guilty of treason as they had been so many years ago. With the culling came those who thought flocking together would save them. Living in squalor wasn’t enough; they had to live in squalor together. What they didn’t realize, what only I seemed to realize, was that large communities of people made bigger, easier targets. No one was allowed to leave the city. There were safeguards against it so revolutionaries couldn’t intermingle with the obedient. It didn’t matter that everyone here was malnourished and dying already. There was no fight in them.

I was the only one fighting.

I fought for them.

I ran through the abandoned building. Where were all of the people? Where were the tents and boxes and lean-tos?

Laughter surrounded me and echoed off of the concrete, pushing me faster if that was even possible. My lungs burned. My throat was so dry that it kept sticking together and no amount of saliva was going to save me. Several times I stumbled over nothing. My legs no longer obeyed my commands, but I had to keep running. I couldn’t allow them to kill me. Once the sun came up I’d have a few moments to find a neutral zone. Those were the rules of the game. Hopefully, I’d be close to one.

When the cardboard homes finally came into view I almost uttered a cry of relief. Unfortunately, my body was not going to let me make it to sunrise. I was unaware of the exhaustion building in me until I fell face first to the ground, surrounded by cardboard boxes, a tattered tarp, and the dirt on the concrete floor. It floated up my nose and filled my mouth, mingling with the coppery blood I tasted on my tongue. My last meal. It wouldn’t be satisfying.

My legs might have been unresponsive, but I could still fight. I rolled onto my back and waited for the distant shadows to approach. They swam through my vision. I must have hit my head harder than I thought when I fell.

Please let me stay conscious long enough to take at least one of them with me, I prayed. My mother had taught me the importance of prayer, but lately, I didn’t hear many replies to my beseeching.

It’s a girl, one of my pursuers mumble as if stunned. They hadn’t even known I was a girl? In the darkness, it wasn’t hard to believe, but it still made me want spit blood and dirt in their faces. When he leaned close enough, I did just that. He pulled back, crying out in disgust.

One had known.

He’d known too much.

What’s wrong? another runner spoke.

She spit in my eye!

There was a chuckle behind me. They were all around me.

Who’s there? someone said.

I froze and barely dared to breathe. Would there be a fight over me? I’d heard of it happening. Two groups sent to cull could fight over the right to kill. This was the world I lived in.

I’ve been tracking this one for the last hour, a deep, resonant voice said. It echoed off of the concrete and bounced off of the ceiling feet above. There was so much bass in his voice that he would never need to project. Anyone anywhere listening would hear him just fine.

What are you doing here? It was the gravel-voiced man who’d caught me. The disappointment in his voice told me that these men were happy to kill me. Excited, even. No matter what happened, I was not to give in to whatever any of them said.

Something rough was shoved into my hand and I gripped the wrapped handle of a small handmade knife. So I was to fight my way out. I could do that. I tested the edge to be sure it was sharp and positioned it in my hand the way it was most comfortable, ready to swing.

You’re supposed to herd them to the city, not scare them to death. There wasn’t much confidence in his deep, deep voice. He knew they were trying to kill me. Were they not supposed to?

No, it didn’t matter. I had to get away from here. If I could just make an opening I could run back out the way I’d come. I just wanted to get to a neutral zone and find something to eat. I felt the empty pit of my stomach, sharp-edged like the knife in my hand.

She’s the one that ran, that unconvincing voice spoke.

Bullshit, my deep-voiced savior said. I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t convinced by the other man’s words.

Hands wrapped around my waist. Now was my chance. The only one I might get. I twisted and struck out with the knife, slicing through tender flesh. He released a satisfying grunt and I broke away. Or I thought I’d broken away. I took two steps and my knees gave out. My body collided with something solid and warm and I melted instantly. I hadn’t known I was so devoid of human contact, but my traitorous body didn’t seem to care that we were being fought over like long anticipated steak. All it wanted was some kind of contact before we met our demise.

Stop that, he growled. Pain was but a hint at the edge of his voice. Or I’ll take it away from you.

His voice was a whisper, his breath fanned across my neck. I shivered, but obeyed. No more attempts to kill him if he’d keep breathing on me like that.

I’m taking her down, he said. His deep voice rumbled in his chest. I felt it against my back and through to my own chest. I swallowed hard. She’s with me now. Touch her and I’ll kill you.

I didn’t get a chance to thank him before he shoved me forward. I stumbled, my legs refusing to bear my weight.

Do I need to carry you? he asked softly in my ear.

I shook my head emphatically. His one arm was still wrapped around my waist and it was all I could do to focus on anything else. What was wrong with me? I didn’t even know what he looked like or if he was going to let me live. For all I knew he was taking me somewhere to make me fight to the death. I hoped they didn’t have a bear.

I twisted out of his grasp, though he kept a tight grip on my wrist so I couldn’t get away from him. It didn’t help to instill faith and trust in my soul, but we walked that way, wending our way through tent homes though no fires were lit. I smelled the heavy smoke of fires doused when I announced the runners. There was still no light in the sky and I now knew that I wouldn’t make it to sunrise. The others followed behind us at a distance. I heard them whispering, but couldn’t make out anything they said.

My savior captor pulled a door open that I couldn’t even see. He must have been wearing night-vision goggles too. Just great. I was the only one at a disadvantage here. Of course, I did still have my little knife and at least I knew it was sharp. I pressed it against his thigh where I hoped it made his special member retract and felt his silent chuckle.

Stairs, he said in my ear just before I stumbled down two of them and twisted my already aching ankle.

Thanks, I said sarcastically. I didn’t see that there.

He chuckled again. Sorry. We’ll go slow.

What a gentleman.

Probably the only one left, actually, he said.

That’s a lot of adverbs in that sentence.

Adverbs? He laughed once, more a surprised expulsion of air. Wow. Adverbs, she says. I felt, rather than heard him shake his head. Twelve steps and then a landing. Got it?

I nodded. True to his word, we took the stairs slow so I could feel my way down, but that was where the talking stopped. I didn’t even try to push conversation because I didn’t want to like a man who was probably going to kill me soon.

I counted stairs, stumbling after the first set when I forgot I’d fallen down the first two. There were six sets of them. By the time we were finished we were deep underground.

Our descent came to an abrupt halt when he jerked me to a stop.

There’s a door there.

Well, I’m glad you can see it. Mind getting it for me, if you’re truly the last gentleman left on the face of the planet?

It would be my pleasure, Adverb.

I froze. Nicknames? Nicknames meant he wanted to take me home and keep me. Give me food and water and take me for walks. Not kill me. At the thought of food, my stomach growled out a sound like monsters crashing through a hole in the heavens.

Hungry? he asked, his breath light and warm against my ear again. I guessed he didn’t want his friends to think we were close.

Starving. I eat like six men who haven’t eaten in a week. Fair warning.

Consider me advised.

Are you going to open the door? Unconvincing asked from behind. He was far too close for comfort. Or do we have to wait for you to get done flirting?

My savior cleared his throat. He let me go and did something with his goggles before he pulled the door open. Light and warmth flooded the space and blinded me momentarily. My retinas burned and I blinked away tears. As my eyes adjusted to the light, my ears adjusted to the sudden flux of noise where there had been nothing but the sound of our feet before. It was the sound of voices and movement, of happiness and excitement and anger. It was the sound of haggling and triumph; all things that I hadn’t heard in too long.

It was the sound of life.

My eyes adjusted slowly. My savior captor waited for me to accept what I was seeing. People below us bustled about buying, selling. and trading. Color filled the space below us, colors I hadn’t seen in years. Red and golden yellow like lemons, green and purple and pink. It was a market, and I smelled the beautiful scent of food cooking somewhere. I took a deep breath of it, forgetting about the men who now pushed past me down another set of metal rung stairs.

Welcome to the Rat’s Maze, said the deep voice beside me. Finally, my curiosity ready to be assuaged, I looked up. Steel grey eyes blinked at me. His hair was silver white, bleached by the desert sun and much shorter than my own chopped locks. Thick perfect eyebrows rose in amusement while I surveyed his strong, chiseled jaw and straight nose. And I still couldn’t look away.

It’s not what I expected, I mumbled, meaning him as much as I meant the market below me.

He winked. That’s what they all say. I didn’t know if he meant his deep voice didn’t match the kindness in his eyes or the market didn’t look like a maze at all. Come on. You’ll see why we call it the rat’s maze soon enough.

He motioned me down the stairs. His hand wrapped around mine and I realized I still had a death grip on the knife.

That’s mine now. You gave it to me.

Fair enough, Adverb. But you won’t need it here. Welcome to the biggest neutral zone in the city.

Chapter Two

The smell of cooking food perfumed the air. The scent of it grew stronger the closer we got to the stalls of wares. My grey-eyed savior led me through the market past the sizzle of cooking food. The sound alone made my stomach roll with hunger. When was the last time I ate? Food was easier for me to come by than most everyone else, but that didn’t look like it was a concern here. If someone went hungry down here, it wasn’t because there wasn’t enough to go around.

Fresh meat hung from the eves of one stall while handspun carpets and blankets hung from the next. Next to that were clothes, rough and simple but new. I tried to see if I could spy a pair of shoes, even though I had nothing to barter with. Another stall boasted handmade earthenware and another had reeking fish. I would have eaten it raw. My stomach and my head ached with hunger now, and my tired body was ready for sleep.

My savior watched me with sharp eyes, but he said nothing. I stayed close by his side and followed him to a round opening in the wall. It was at least eight feet high and lit by evenly placed bulbs that hung from the ceiling. On the left was an even larger round opening. People came and went through it, smiling and laughing.

Happy.

People moved aside for us when we entered the hall and I wondered just how high up in rank my savior was. The runners had done what he asked without question, something I hadn’t noticed in the confusion and panic of the moment. I met curious glances with