“Sir!” I can’t hide my smile as I call the brigadier again. “Steadman says we’re go.” I glance at Steadman and he gives me a nod. “Officially requesting the nerve agent, Sir.”
Lee takes a moment to respond, and it’s all I can do not to repeat myself.
“Understood, Lead Recruit. We’re moving into position. Stand by.”
We’re going to get them. We’re going to take down a terrorist cell, and we’re going to take Ellman and her friends with them.
Sleep tight, Recruits. Sweet dreams.
I stand with Steadman, watching as he unscrews the end of a thick pipe with his fingertips and pulls out a cylinder of grey plastic with layers of metal mesh at each end. There’s a serial number on the side.
“Got it. That’s the intake filter.” He puts his head down, level with the pipe. “Standard equipment should do it.”
This is going to be easy. This is going to work.
“Thank you, Steadman.”
“Lead Recruit! Status!” It’s Bracken, calling on a private channel.
Bracken, who doesn’t know I’m back here.
Breathe, Ketty. Stay calm.
“Sir!”
“Status, Ketty. Where are you, and why aren’t you in the farmyard with the rest of the team?”
They must have finished searching the house.
Be confident. This is Lee’s problem, not yours.
“Sir. Sorry, Sir. Just checking out something in the woods.”
There’s a pause. “In the woods?”
“Yes, Sir. Something caught my eye. We’re checking it out.”
I’m wincing as I speak. I can’t believe how casually I’m admitting to disobeying orders.
“Lead Recruit! Get your team back here. Now!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Come on, Lee. Help me out.
Steadman looks up at me.
“Problem?”
“I’m not sure. Keep working. I’ll sort this out.”
Keep it together. Stay in control.
I hesitate, wondering what to do. I can’t leave the ventilation pipes, but I can’t let Bracken figure out what I’m doing. I’m about to call the brigadier when my radio activates again.
“New orders, Lead Recruit. Lee wants your assessment of whatever it is you’re looking at. Keep going. We’ll call if we need you.”
Bracken sounds hesitant, unsure of himself. But now I know that Lee is monitoring communications. And I know he’s got my back.
You can do this, Ketty.
There are voices on the path, and more torch beams sweep over the ventilation box. The equipment is arriving.
*****
We’re surrounded by crates and tools and pieces of metal. It’s getting crowded on the path – the soldiers who brought us the crates are waiting for the order to connect the gas tanker to the ventilation system, but they’re waiting here in case the order is to abort. Seven crates need fourteen people to carry them.
Steadman is working quickly and calmly, and the rest of my team is helping out – handing him tools, holding torches, searching through crates and boxes for the things he needs.
This is what I’m good at. Keeping everyone focused. Getting things done.
And it feels good.
I’ve updated the brigadier twice, but he’s gone quiet. It’s frustrating to be stuck out here, away from the action, away from Bracken, and away from the prisoners.
Come on, Lee. Talk to me.
I watch my team working together. “Steadman. Where are we?”
“We’re good,” he calls back to me, a screwdriver held in his teeth. There are three of them, kneeling in front of the pipes, hands inside the tangle of pipework, working together to fit a collar to the inlet filter as quietly as they can.
This is my team. No fuss. No drama. Getting the job done.
Steadman drops the screwdriver, pulls his hands away and gives me a thumbs up. “We’re ready. The collar is attached. I just need the first length of hose.” The others pull their hands out and stand up, rolling their shoulders and shaking life back into their arms. They’ve been kneeling there for ages.
I step between the crates, searching for a short length of hose with a metal collar on each end. I find it on the path, where several of the crates have been unpacked.
“This?” I shine my torch at the component in my hand.
“That’s it. Thanks!”
I walk it over to him, and watch while he connects it to the intake filter. It’s a quick, neat job, and when he tugs on the hose to test the connection, nothing moves. He grins at me, and I grin back.
“Nice work, Steadman. Thank you.”
Lee’s voice shouts into my earpiece.
“Report, Lead Recruit.”
Come on, Ketty. This is where you show him what you can do.
“Sir, we’re ready. The connector is in place. All we need now is the hose.”
“Send the teams back, Lead Recruit. You and Steadman, stay where you are, but send the others back to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” I cut the connection.
“Listen up!” I shout into the woods. “You’re needed back at the farmyard. Head back, and wait for instructions. Steadman – you’re with me.”
The other members of my team jog away with the soldiers, back towards the house. Steadman and I make a start at putting equipment back into the crates.
I realise I’m laughing to myself. In a few minutes, we’ll have them. We’ll be sending our poison into the bunker, and there will be nothing they can do to protect themselves. The feeling of power hits me again. There’s nothing they can do to stop us. Lee’s mission will be a success, and the terrorist cell will be gone.
There’s a noise from the path. I look up, to see torch beams returning. I’m about to step out and help with the hose, when I realise that the soldiers are back too soon. I haven’t had an update from Lee, and there shouldn’t be anyone else on the path. I wave a torch at Steadman and gesture him to move back into the woods.
I switch off my torch, hook it back on my belt, and unclip my gun. Keeping the barrel pointing downwards to hide the targeting light, I activate the power, and move towards the path as quietly as I can, challenging the PowerGel as my foot slips on the uneven ground.
The pain stays away. I take another step, testing the way ahead with my foot.
Concentrate, Ketty.
The torches are approaching. I can see figures, lit by the torch beams.
Figures in armour. Guns in combat-ready holds, rucksacks were their guns should be.
This isn’t Lee’s soldiers.
This is the terrorists, making their escape in the armour they stole from the coach.
Walking right past me.
Not today, kids. Not on my watch.
I step out onto the path, ahead of the quiet figures, my gun raised.
Someone at the head of the group cries out as their torch picks out my armour against the darkness of the trees, and they notice the light from my gun. Everyone stumbles to a halt.
I look at the figures in front of me. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but I think some of these are kids. I think these are my recruits, and their new friends. Not many of them, but that works for me.
Maybe Lee will get his prisoners after all.
And maybe I can be the one to bring them in.
I take a deep breath, and give my best parade-ground yell.
“Tiny fighters!”
There’s a gasp from the figure in the lead, and I’m dazzled for a second by a torch beam playing over my face.
Take a good look, recruit. Understand who is standing between you and escape.
A torch beam flashes across the lead figure’s face. His visor’s up, like mine, to make it easier to see in the dark. I watch as he blinks, staring at me.
It’s Taylor.
Perfect.
I feel as if I’m back at Camp Bishop. I know who’s in charge here, and so does he.
I give him a recruit-scarin
g grin.
“Always a pleasure, Recruit Taylor. What have you got for me today? Insults and insubordination? Crying with a side of begging?” I crane my neck to look at the armoured figures huddled on the path behind him. “Have you brought me some friends to play with?”
He raises his gun and points it at my chest.
I run a quick head count. Twelve of them. One of me. But Taylor is the only one with his gun raised. If these are the guns from the coach, then they’re only using training bullets. I’ll be safe in my armour.
Your move, Recruit.
There’s the sound of a twig snapping in the woods next to me, and from the corner of my eye I see the light on Steadman’s gun barrel come on. He steps away from me, back along the path, and fires a warning shot over the heads of the group behind Taylor.
There are shouts and screams, and the group starts to move, running past me and Taylor towards the lake. I aim into the air and pull my trigger, and the confusion spreads.
Stay in control. Stay calm.
Steadman starts to call for help on the radio. The others run past us, but Taylor stands, gun aimed at my chest, unaffected by the panic. When torch beams touch his face, his expression is cold, determined. Chilling.
Big, brave Taylor. Go on then.
Steadman steps out onto the path behind him. Taylor takes a step towards me, and Steadman fires. His shot grazes Taylor’s shoulder, and splinters of shattered armour spring up from the impact.
Afraid yet, Recruit?
Taylor stumbles forward. I step back, and he pulls the trigger as he stands up.
Three shots.
Three times, he sends bullets towards me.
Crack. A bullet thuds into the ground next to my foot.
Step back.
Crack. A bullet grazes the armour on my right calf.
Another step.
Crack. A bullet whistles past my knee.
There’s a tiny sound, where the bullet touches something as it passes.
I look down, distracted, while Steadman fires again, and Taylor turns his fall into a run, pushing past me and following his friends along the path.
There’s shouting from behind me, but something is wrong with my knee, and I can’t turn round.
Move, Ketty.
I’m frozen, and I don’t understand what Taylor has done. Everything is happening in slow motion.
Taylor is shouting, and other voices are joining in. I stare at Steadman, in front of me on the path, and I watch as the chest panel of his armour dents twice, and then explodes. He staggers backwards, tripping as he goes down, and falls away between the trees. The sound of gunfire is loud in my ears, but I’m not processing things properly. I’m not paying attention.
The pain is back.
And it’s the pain that saves me.
My knee lights up with all the damage I’ve done this week. All the pushing and testing and training I’ve made myself do, so I could be here tonight. So I could stop the kids from getting away. A ball of white light pushes its way outwards from the centre of the dead PowerGel, and I stagger forwards. My right leg can’t support me, and I pitch over onto the path, my gun still held in a combat grip.
My chin hits the ground, and my neck twists. There’s blood in my mouth, and my hands are still on my gun as my nose bounces off the floor.
I’m trying not to scream.
Bullets are snapping past me, Taylor and his friends aiming much too high to hit me, now that I’m on the ground.
Move. Get off the path.
I let go of my gun with one hand, and focus on getting myself into the trees. At first I can’t move, then I think about the barbed wire tunnels on the assault course, and I know I can do this. I start to drag myself forward with my fingers while pushing with my left foot. My right leg drags behind me, carrying a white-hot flame in my knee.
Keep moving.
I can’t drag myself and carry the gun. I pause, lift the rifle, and throw it into the trees. Then I’m back into the rhythm again, pushing and pulling myself over the rough ground.
The bullets have stopped. Torch beams play over the tree trunks above my head, but I’m on the ground in black armour. Once I’m off the path, I freeze, clenching my fists against the pain.
You’re safe, Ketty. Keep your head down.
There’s angry shouting from the path behind me.
Taylor.
“Let me go! Let me find her. I’m going to kill her. I’m going to put a bullet in her.”
Another voice.
“Jake, come on. We’re done here. We need to keep going.”
“Let me go!”
“We’re making too much noise, Jake. We need to stay quiet. We need to move on.”
Move on, Taylor. Walk away.
Someone is crying, and shouting at the same time.
“Jake! No more! No more shooting. We can still get away.”
Brown.
And I realise that if they’ve made it out of the bunker, they came out through the gatehouse. They’ve seen what happened. They know about Sleepy.
And Amy’s the one holding Jake back.
I’m lying, flat on my face in the woods. I’ve lost my gun. My knee feels as if it’s tearing itself apart from the inside, and when the adrenaline wears off I’m going to start screaming.
And Taylor wants to kill me.
He’s a few meters away, armed and angry, and he’s not using training ammunition. I replay what happened to Steadman. Taylor has armour-piercing rounds in his rifle – his bullets will slice right through my suit. All he has to do is find me.
And I’m alone.
Steadman’s gone. Jackson’s gone. Bracken and Lee might as well be on the other side of the world. All I can do is stay down, and stay quiet.
Every instinct I have tells me to turn and fight, but without my PowerGel, I’m useless. I can’t even stand up. I can’t get to safety, and I can’t eliminate the threat. He’s behind me, and I can’t see him. I’m cowering like a child, waiting for his bullets to rip me apart. I’m vulnerable again. I’m an easy target, and this time I don’t have a gun.
My heart is exploding in my chest. Cold sweat beads on my face, and I’m breathing too fast. My fists are clenched tight, waiting for the bullet.
This is fear. This is the worst feeling in the world.
I’ve seen defeat in other people’s eyes, but never in my own. I think about Dad at the kitchen table, kitchen knife within reach, begging me to stay. I think about Ellman, surrendering to her beating. I think about Saunders. The look of surprise on his face as one of my bullets stopped his heart.
Easy. Quick. Devastating.
I think about the gun in Taylor’s hands. The power he has in this moment. The power I’ve lost.
Make your choice, Jake. Get out, or take your shot at me. Every minute you wait, every minute you argue, is a minute you could spend walking away.
You could get out of here tonight, or you could throw away your advantage and come after me.
Live or die. Your decision. There is nothing I can do.
I close my eyes, and dig my fingers into the carpet of pine needles. I wait, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I feel as if I’m waiting forever.
Then the voices fade. The torch beams disappear. I’m on my own in the dark.
For a moment, all I can do is breathe. I let myself relax, push the tension out of my muscles. Take deep breaths and wait for my heartbeat to slow.
I’m alive.
But I can’t stay here, face down in the dirt. I’m too close to the path, and I need to watch for movement. I need to face whoever comes this way. Twelve people can’t be the whole terrorist cell. There will be more of them coming. I’m an easy target, here – I need to get further into the woods. I need to give myself a chance.
Move, Ketty.
I pull myself deeper into the trees, the pain in my knee growing with every movement. Away from the path, I pause for breath and force myself to roll over and sit up, my back ag
ainst a tree trunk. My knee is screaming for attention, but I make myself reach for the torch at my belt.
And it’s gone. Dropped somewhere between here and the path. I’ve lost my torch, I’ve lost my gun. And I’ve lost my PowerGel.
No time for self-pity. Concentrate. Figure out what’s wrong.
I reach down and gently touch the edge of my knee. There’s a tear in the stretch panel of the armour, and through into the base layer. I can feel the PowerGel fabric under my fingers. I poke gently at the exposed layer, but it’s whole. No damage. I run my fingers up and down the fabric, trying to understand what’s broken.
And then I find the clip. Where the battery pack should be, I find broken shards of plastic. The batteries are gone. There’s no power to the gel.
There’s nothing between me and the pain.
I can’t help screaming. I bite down on my knuckles to stifle the noise, but the frustration and the overwhelming, nauseating pain is too much for me.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I need to call for help.
I don’t want to tell Lee I’ve screwed up, but I can’t walk back on my own.
Call it in Ketty. Call for backup.
And then there’s a voice on the radio.
“Ketty, where are you?” Bracken. He sounds panicked. “We’ve got a situation here …”
I’m trying to think through the pain. I’m trying to understand.
Lee’s voice cuts across Bracken’s, louder, into my earpiece.
“Abort, Lead Recruit! Abort! Contamination protocol – we have nerve agent in the air. Repeat, we have nerve agent in the air.”
Concentrate, Ketty.
I’m too busy pulling down my visor and starting my air supply to respond to Lee’s command.
“Lead Recruit! Get yourselves back here. Visors down, oxygen on. We have a contamination event in progress.”
I switch on the private channel transmitter, but Lee is still shouting.
“Lead Recruit! Respond! Get yourselves back here!”
“Can’t Sir.” It’s all I can manage as I try to focus.
“Report, Lead Recruit.”
Tell him, Ketty. Tell him you’ve failed.
“Shot, Sir. PowerGel damaged.”
There’s a pause, and Lee swears.
“Steadman. Send Steadman back.”
“Steadman’s gone, Sir. Steadman’s dead.”
False Flag (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 2) Page 21