Takeshi nods. “It really only worked the first time. After that the Watchers were aware of our intentions.”
Bo paces and nods. “But couldn’t you do something similar when the South arrives? Coordinate with the army to draw the fight as close to this sector as possible. With limited manpower in the main sectors, you could send groups in to lead the Outcasts to safety. And the remaining Workers as well.”
Cash is shaking his head. “Most of the Outcasts still alive are crippled or diseased or extremely old. You’d need more than just strong arms. You’d need vehicles to carry them out.”
“What will the South bring?”
“Likely more aircraft then ground vehicles,” Takeshi says.
“And the resistance?”
“We have limited resources on this side, and our adversaries will be utilizing all of theirs.” Solomon leans to the wall that stretches on the outer edge of the building.
“I’ll go back,” Bo says. Solomon pushes off the wall to object, but Bo sets a hand on his shoulder. “I’m the only one they aren’t sure about yet. Gray’s defiance is obvious, but with me they only suspect it. I can go back. Rally help among the Watchers.”
“It’s too much of a risk,” Solomon says. “I need you with us.”
“Having him on the other side might not be a bad idea,” Takeshi says. “We know the Council has men planted in the resistance. And while we have a few good men scattered around, it might be helpful to have someone like Bo to build momentum before my father storms this valley.”
“You tell me what you need me to do, and I’m your man,” Bo says.
Cash leans into the wall beside me, and we share a look. His eyes tell me he isn’t sure about Bo either. But there is nothing to prove he’s disloyal. It is just a feeling. But even as I think it, I realize that my reasons for doubting Bo are unfair. He did nothing suspicious in the moment we encountered him on the mountain. If anything, he proved his loyalty. But as soon as he mentioned his family ties to the Council, I felt uneasy.
Cash is close enough that our arms touch. His nearness is familiar now, the one constant in all of this. But I’m failing him. How can I doubt Bo and trust Cash in the same breath? They are the same.
I lean to the wall next to him, and my eyes sting when a gust of wind hits us.
Solomon is quiet. All the men lean to the wall alongside us, and we stare off toward the darkened streets. All around, soldiers pace the perimeter, keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding areas. For this moment, everything is quiet. It feels like a deep breath. I close my eyes and try to stay in it.
A blast fills the air, and my eyes fly open to fire and screams in the distance. Then another blast, just to the left of the first. I stop breathing and watch as explosion after explosion ignites, until a long, burning line cuts across the landscape.
At first we’re frozen, drawn in by the horror of it. Alarms are sounding off in my head. But my body is numb, and I can’t move. My heart pounds and my lungs burn, but I can’t remember how to make them feel better.
Breathe. Need air.
I suck in a sharp breath, and we launch ourselves toward the door.
Sirens fill the night sky. Downstairs, all the rebels are assembling, grabbing their guns and racing outside.
“The barricade!” they shout. “It’s gone!”
“They’re coming!” someone screams.
I catch sight of Sam standing wide-eyed against a wall. He doesn’t cry, but his body shakes as he watches the chaos. I run to him and drop to a knee.
“It’s okay, Sam. Look at me. Get back to your mattress, okay? Protect your brother and sister.”
He nods, but doesn’t move. His eyes shift back and forth, taking in all the panic.
“You have to go now, Sam! Run to them! Stay in the sleeping room.”
I don’t want to add to his fear, but I won’t lie. And Sam is clever enough to know that this danger is real. Before he runs, I grab his arm, force eye-contact, and say, “You can do this. I know you can. You’re the bravest boy I’ve ever met.”
His face transforms. His eyes steel. His lips tighten, and his little hands ball into fists.
“Run,” I whisper.
He is changed when he leaves me, but it may not last.
I run outside, joining the crowd of rebels racing toward the barricade.
The muscles in my legs burn, but I pump them hard to keep up with the others. We race through the freezing wind, slipping over mounds of dirty snow. The scent of smoke burns my nose. We’re halfway there when we’re stopped in our tracks by a line of rebel soldiers running toward us from the direction of the barricade.
“They’ve broken through!” they shout, waving their arms for us to turn back.
“Get back! Defend the factory!”
My boots slide on the slick street, and I stumble, whipping my body around. Takeshi appears at my side, and we run together through the alleys, dragging each other off the ground when one of us slips. When the factory comes into view, Takeshi grabs my arm.
He leans close and says breathless, “Tell Solomon I’m following my plan. He’ll know what I mean.”
He pushes me toward the factory and starts west, grabbing soldiers by their coats and shouting orders.
I sprint to the factory, waiting to fall. Waiting for the bullet that will take me out of this sick game. A woman is holding a door open for me, but I yell at her to close it. Instead I duck behind a dumpster with three other soldiers, and we wait.
26
My firing hand is shaking. I grit my teeth and breathe slow through my nose, trying to calm my body. I can’t stop the trembling, but my mind is sharp. We watch the dark alleys, our weapons ready.
I glance to my left and see a long line of rebels surrounding the factory. I look right and see the same. The wind kicks up—freezing. Engines growl in the distance. We can hear the slow roll of tires, and my skin crawls to be safe somewhere else. They are coming.
The soldiers several yards down are shifting, and my eyes catch on Ian. He sees me too, and I look away. They’ve freed him, which means Cash spoke up in his defense. I know I should follow Cash’s lead, but I’m having trouble deciding how I feel. Ian looks out of place now beside rebel soldiers.
The rumbling of tires grows louder, then stops. The air stills, and all our eyes scan the surrounding streets.
“Take cover!” someone shouts. The wall to our right explodes, sending fragments of brick flying. The soldier beside me throws his body over mine.
We’re surrounded by a cloud of dust when we grab our guns and drag ourselves out of the rubble. Cuts sting on my skin, and my ears are ringing. It’s all I can hear. A hand grips my bandaged arm, and I gasp at the pain. Ian is pulling me, hauling me toward cover. Bullets cut through the air, and I duck my head as we run.
The soldiers around us are shouting things to each other. Their mouths are moving, eyes wild and fierce. They point toward a massive armored vehicle now parked in the intersection facing us. It’s huge, with a long barrel protruding from its front. Slowly my hearing returns.
“The tank!” they’re shouting. “Take it out!”
“Shut it down!” someone yells.
We fire at the tank, but all our bullets ricochet off the outer shell. I watch wide-eyed as the long gun barrel turns. We’re scattering, diving out of its path. The blast hits, and it’s deafening. The wall behind our hiding place is blown away.
There are no Watchers on the ground, only this tank. It doesn’t make sense. The Council has the power to wipe us away, but they take their time, prying small pieces of our courage. Heat pours through my blood, and I fire again at the tank. It does nothing, but I don’t care. It isn’t strategy that has me shooting. Only anger. Every shot sends currents of pain through my arms. I grip harder, setting my jaw.
The longer we do this, the stranger it feels. Others are thinking it too; I can see the looks they throw each other. Confusion. Frustration. This feels like wasted energy.
Whe
n the tank turns away from us, firing at the wall farther down, I scramble over the debris and climb through the hole into the factory. Ian follows.
“Where are you going?” he asks, running at my side. We race down the empty halls, our wet boots slipping on the linoleum.
“The roof,” I say without looking at him. “I need to see.”
I take the stairs two at a time, my hand on the rail to haul my weight up. I am heavy with fear, but something is off. Where are the soldiers gunning us down? Where are the thousands who flew over the mountain in helicopters? I need to see them—see the rest that are coming.
The stairs tremor when another blast hits. We reach the top and yank open the door to the roof. Soldiers are leaning over the wall, taking aim at the street below. I race to peer over. Another tank, but no foot soldiers. It fires, and everything shakes.
Ian points toward the distant streets, as far back as the burning barricade. There is no army—none that we can see.
“Stop firing! Do not fire!”
It’s Cash. He’s running along the rooftop, ordering all the guns to stop. Solomon runs a step behind.
“Save your ammunition!” Solomon shouts. “Don’t let them drain our resources!”
The soldiers on the roof pull back, but we can still hear the guns firing below, a steady popping…wasted bullets.
“There were soldiers,” a rebel says beside me. We stare off at the smoke in the distance. “They pushed us back. Where’d they go?”
“They could be anywhere,” another says. “Hiding in the buildings. Planted all over this sector.”
“There,” someone close by whispers. He’s pointing toward the nearest tank. Dark figures creep closer to it. They are rebels, inching toward the metal beast.
“Takeshi,” I say under my breath, remembering. I run to Solomon.
“Takeshi,” I say again. “He said to tell you he’s following his plan. He said you’d know.”
His eyes widen, and he hurries to the wall. Cash does too, but I see the concerned way he looks me over before his feet move. I glance down, and I’m covered in dust, my clothes torn from the debris. I wipe a stinging on my face with the back of my hand, and see blood when I pull it back. I join the others at the wall, standing in an open place between Cash and Ian.
Solomon reaches toward a soldier at his left, and the man hands his rifle over without a thought. Solomon kneels, propping the weapon and peering through its scope. We watch as Takeshi’s men approach the tank.
“Weapons ready,” Cash says. “Keep their path clear.”
But there is no one. There are no Watchers trying to stop them.
The rebels below are still firing. Cash leans over the wall and shouts, “Cease fire! Pull back!”
His head is shaking, his eyes angry.
“He’s draining us,” he says. “Many of these soldiers were Workers, and fear will make them panic. Panic will drain our guns.”
Rage boils in his eyes. There is a panel of five leaders making up the Council, but somehow Titus makes the others pale by comparison. Cash presses his hands to the wall and glares, his gaze glued to the tank.
A second later he straightens, his whole body stiff. He lurches forward, so far I think he’ll tumble over the edge. I jump toward him and grab the back of his coat. He waves his arm and shouts, “Get back! It’s a trap! Fall back!”
The tank starts rolling, moving slow toward the soldiers lining the building. Fear ignites like fire in my blood.
Cash grabs Solomon, staring hard so he is understood.
“It’s empty,” he’s saying. “They’re controlling it at their base.”
Two seconds tick, then Solomon glares.
“They’re going to self-destruct,” he says.
Silence. Five seconds of stillness…processing.
Then we run.
I can hear Solomon shouting, screaming at his soldiers to get back, to stop firing, to get out.
We barrel down the stairs, all our bodies rigid, anticipating the blast. Some race to try and warn the soldiers outside, but the rest of us head straight for the sleeping rooms deep in the heart of the factory.
When a door is flung open, I see all their eyes, all their faces…and I know we can’t get them out. They will stampede the halls, congesting the space…and no one will make it through a single door.
“Get down!” we shout. "Cover your heads!”
Soldiers pour into the room, huddling over children and frightened mothers. Some of these rebels are their sons and daughters and fathers. Families grab one another, hiding beneath mattresses and blankets, but it isn’t enough.
In a corner, a nurse holds Ben. She turns her body to protect him. On the other side of the room is Sam with tears streaming over his cheeks, huddled with his siblings, their little bodies drawn against his sides. I run to them, scrambling past frightened people, tripping over legs.
The building quakes, and I fall, my hands slamming into the wall above Sam’s head. I grab the littlest, a girl, and wrap my body around her. Cash races to the boys and drops to the floor, scooping them into his arms. We turn inward, creating a shield. The second explosion rattles deep…to my bones. The children we hold are whimpering, but nothing like the screaming filling the air around us. I want to scream with them; to let out some of the stored-up grief. I squeeze my eyes shut when a third blast shakes the walls, sending ceiling tiles falling to the crowded floor.
The silence that follows creeps up my spine…a taunting, harassing emptiness. Will there be more? How many tanks were out there? I pull the girl closer to me until I can’t tell my heartbeat from hers.
The room is dark, and no one moves. We wait in the quiet, listening. My body relaxes as time passes, but I can hear Cash’s quick breaths—feel the adrenaline still racing through his body. He shifts, and his forehead lands on my shoulder. I free a hand, wrapping it fast around his back. He stays this way in the darkness, breathing deep, all the weight of this revolution crushing him. I squeeze my eyes and wish there was something I could do to ease the burden he feels. His face lifts, and our foreheads touch. His breath. My breath. His pulse…and mine. I don’t know how to help him. But it is for me to do.
My hand moves to the back of his head, trying to make him feel anchored and steady.
“We’ll end this,” I whisper, echoing his words. “All of us. He won’t win.”
“I need that to be true.”
My fingers squeeze.
“You’ll see.”
I think of my father when I say it. You’ll see. We’ll all see…together.
When did I start making these kinds of promises…the kind we make blind, not knowing if they hold an ounce of truth. But my father’s words weren’t all wrong; I did see the sky. Just without them.
Sam moves, and Cash pulls away from me. The boy scrambles up until his arms are tight around Cash’s neck, his hands in fists. I take the youngest boy, and Cash wraps his arms around Sam. He doesn’t say things to soothe him—doesn’t try to calm his fears. Instead the two cling to each other, and they don’t let go until they are both ready.
27
The Infirmary is half-gone. So is the hall Edan led me through the night we ran. And the corridor, where Cash shielded me from the glass. The tanks have carved massive holes in our compound. Fires are still burning, but the snow is on our side. It falls heavy from the sky, and soldiers dump buckets of it to suffocate the flames.
Freezing wind howls through the halls, and everyone is shivering. Most people stayed in the sleeping rooms, because they are far enough in that the walls still stand.
I walk with Cash outside, hand in hand through the rubble. His expression is tired, and we haven’t spoken since we left Sam and his siblings with another family. Takeshi’s men found no evidence that Watchers are planted in the surrounding buildings. This attack is over, and now we prepare for the next. I glance at the sky, anxious to see the South arrive. The Council has damaged us and drained so much of our ammunition…we need help.
>
Bo jogs to meet us.
“I’m heading out,” he says. “I’ll gather as many as I can.”
He extends his hand, and after a pause, Cash shakes it. Bo steps closer.
“I can tell you don’t trust me,” he says. “I hope the coming days will prove you wrong.”
“So do I,” Cash replies. For once, it would be nice to take every man at his word.
The sun is rising, sparkling across the snowy streets. When Bo runs toward the alleys, I ask Cash, “What is it that makes you doubt him?”
“I’ve met his uncle,” he says to me. “He earns your trust. He’s charming.” Cash’s head shakes, and he looks off toward the alley Bo took. “But I’m wrong to judge a man by his family. We don’t get to choose our blood. I know that well.”
I feel a pang of guilt. I have judged Bo by the same standards as Cash. And though they both show the same qualities, I chose to trust one man but not the other. I do hope Bo is everything he says.
Aspen is exiting the factory through a wide-open wall when I turn. She steps into the snowfall, crossing her arms against the freezing air. Sadness pinches my stomach; her features are so much like Drew’s. Her fiery hair is brighter in the white snow. Her round eyes scan the damage, then her gaze lands on me. She says nothing, but words aren’t necessary. Her expression is enough. She’s awake now, and there is rage burning deep inside again.
“Hannah!” We turn, and the nurse I spoke with our first night back is standing just feet behind us. In her arms is Ben…and his eyes are wide open.
I’ve forgotten how to move. The only movement is the wind, and our clothes and hair being tossed by it. Everything else fades out, and I only see this boy…the one I’ve promised my life to.
My heart is confused. First it’s joy…and relief. But then it dips, because the real battle hasn’t begun. There is more coming, and maybe he was safer in his sleep.
The nurse walks toward us, and my heart is racing. What if he doesn’t remember me? Of course he won’t. Why would he? But I promised to be his family. And I won’t ever let him be alone. There’s a feeling building fast in my chest. A belonging.
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