Recon

by Tarah Benner

“Yeah.”

  I meet his gaze. Eli’s staring at me with a mixture of curiosity and something else I can’t quite place. I want to enjoy this time with him, but I know I won’t be able to relax knowing we’re being watched. It’s not as though we can have a real conversation. The only things we’ve ever talked about have centered around corruption in the compound.

  He surprises me by beckoning me over. I turn off his computer and shuffle toward the couch. My heart is pounding against my ribcage.

  He holds out an arm, and I turn and lower myself awkwardly into his embrace. I’ve never been much of a snuggler, and Eli isn’t just any guy. He’s my commanding officer, and I’ve never seen him this way.

  I try to relax, and as soon as I do, I realize it’s nice. The side of his body is hard yet inviting, and his warm breath is soft and gentle against the top of my head. I let myself go limp against him, and his arm tightens around me. I’m feeling pretty relaxed until I see the hawk embroidered on his T-shirt, mocking me in fine blue thread.

  “What does it mean?” I blurt out.

  He glances down to see what I’m looking at and raises an eyebrow. “Have you heard the story of the hawk and the dove?”

  I shake my head.

  He grins. “Classic game theory. It’s the basis for Recon’s philosophy. If there’s a hawk and a dove competing for resources — say food — the dove will fight the hawk. But if the fight escalates, the dove will fly away to avoid injury or will try to share the food. The hawk . . . the hawk will fight until he dies or wins.”

  “And Recon is the hawk.”

  Eli nods, and an ominous feeling sinks into the pit of my stomach. This is why he is the way he is. Eli is a fighter, through and through.

  “What are we fighting over?” I ask absently. “If Recon is the hawk and the drifters are the dove . . . the compound already has everything. The drifters have nothing.”

  “The board still thinks they pose a threat.”

  “Not all drifters are terrorists,” I murmur, thinking of my parents.

  “I know.”

  I don’t have to continue, but I keep talking. “Celdon and I were born on the Fringe. We grew up in the Institute together.”

  “It was a different place before Death Storm,” he murmurs.

  I cringe. Even though I’m too young to remember the instability overseas that led to nuclear annihilation, the footage of the attacks they showed us in compound history still gives me nightmares sometimes.

  When the compound was founded, the first generation of people to settle here were the smart ones. They took the threats seriously. Once the bombs started dropping in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, the ones who could buy their way into the compound were the lucky ones.

  The U.S. and its allies struck back, but the attack was too coordinated. Eight countries were dropping bombs on the most populated areas in the U.S. and the European Union, driving people out of the cities.

  Anyone left after Death Storm . . . well, I hadn’t even known there was anyone left until recently.

  “What happened to your parents?” Eli asks quietly.

  “They died a few weeks after entering the compound. They told Celdon his parents were dead, but we think he was abandoned out there.” I look over at him quickly. “Don’t tell anyone that. He doesn’t like people to know.”

  Eli shakes his head as if to say he would never dream of blabbing Celdon’s secret, which I find cute for some inexplicable reason.

  “How did he end up in the compound?”

  “Some Recon officer heard him crying and brought him in. It was a low birth year.”

  “It wasn’t the last. They brought me in when I was a teenager.”

  I didn’t see that coming. I twist around in his arms to look at him. “What?”

  “When I was fourteen.”

  “You were raised on the Fringe until you were fourteen?” That never happens.

  He nods.

  “How are you still alive?”

  He swallows, and I can tell that Eli, like me, doesn’t like to think about where he came from. “There are . . . pockets where the radiation levels are low enough to sustain life. Not that people don’t get sick. I just never did.”

  “Why did they bring you in?”

  “The same reason as you. To pad the population . . . to bring in some hearty Fringe survivor genes.” He gives me a humorless grin, and I realize he’s serious. “They brought me in with a few others. They told everyone we were the only survivors they found after Death Storm, but . . . there were so many people left out there.”

  My stomach clenches. “So you lived in the Institute?”

  “Until I was eighteen. That’s where I met Miles.”

  “That big black guy I always see you with?”

  He grins. “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “I heard he made a cadet pee his pants last year in training.”

  Eli laughs, and I find I’m annoyed.

  “I’m so glad it amuses you to scare the shit out of cadets.”

  His face goes dark, and for a minute, I wonder if I’ve stepped over the line.

  “I don’t enjoy it,” he says defensively. “I have to scare you guys. You all come in completely clueless. You need to be motivated to train hard and prepare yourselves.”

  “You don’t have to be such an asshole all the time.”

  He pulls his arm off me and inches away, which is difficult on the narrow couch. “Yeah, I do. It’s my job to make sure you guys survive.” He sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “You don’t get it. You’ve never been out there.”

  I know he’s frustrated and upset, but his tone is pissing me off. I’m not some kid he can talk down to.

  “Got it,” I say suddenly, jumping to my feet and setting the beer on the side table.

  He looks a little surprised, and then his expression clouds over. “What?”

  “I’m leaving,” I say. “It’s obvious you don’t need to be with someone who’s never been ‘out there.’ Maybe you should hop in bed with Jayden or something. She’s certainly mature.” I say the last word with more spite than I mean to, but I don’t care. “Find someone else who understands, because I’m done.”

  Eli looks genuinely shocked.

  “I’ll see you in training,” I snap. Then I stride out of his compartment and slam the door.

  Once I’m out of Eli’s sexiness splash zone, I can actually think straight again.

  I have no idea why I just staged some dramatic exit — if that’s what I was doing — or why my blood is pounding in my ears.

  I realize I never had a chance to tell Eli what I discovered on his computer. Whatever. If he really wants to know, he can come find me.

  As I walk back to my compartment, I realize I’m not prepared to handle stealth spy missions like that. I’m way too emotional. I can’t let Eli know, though. It would be embarrassing if he thought that rage fit was real — or anything that came before.

  The next time I see him, I have to be cool and collected. I’ll act impervious to his good looks and superhuman make-out skills. I have to, because that can never happen again. I won’t be the girl who sleeps her way to the top.

  In the short time I’ve been in Recon, competitive, cocky Harper has been running in the background. I’ve been so busy poking into my bid and resenting Recon for robbing me of my future in Systems that I never noticed that part of me actually wanted to become a kick-ass cadet.

  I’ve been training hard, and I’m getting good. Killing drifters isn’t what I signed up for, but it’s not as though I have a choice. If I’m stuck here, I’m going to be the best cadet they’ve ever had.

  twenty-four

  Eli

  I have no idea what to expect when I see Harper on Monday. I know I pissed her off Saturday, and I’m furious at myself for turning into Lieutenant Parker.

  Even though Harper was only in my room to get on my computer, our conversation felt real. It felt good — until I fucked it all up.
r />   I’m angry at myself for pissing her off, but I’m even angrier about how much I enjoyed kissing her.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. Harper is hot — beautiful, even — but that’s not the only reason I liked it. I like Harper, and that’s a huge problem.

  I don’t want to like any of my cadets, not even platonically. Those kinds of feelings cause you to make stupid decisions as a leader. They get you killed on the Fringe.

  Besides, I’m positive Harper doesn’t share my feelings. I turned her on, but that’s it. She’s made it perfectly clear that she hates my guts. Part of me wants to see her, but the other part is dreading training.

  I delay getting out of bed so long that I have to rush to get breakfast. I scarf down my bowl of bananas and power greens so fast I nearly hurl, and then I end up getting back down to the training center a good twenty minutes early.

  I’m too wired to stand around and wait for the cadets to arrive, so I go over to the weights to let off some steam.

  I load the bar with about as much weight as I can handle, but I still can’t get the image of Harper in shorts out of my head. I’m not picturing her all dolled up, though. I keep envisioning her just after waking up, with her hair all messy and that unsuspecting softness from sleep. She looked so different than she does in training, with that dark hair falling all over her shoulders and back.

  God, I love her hair. I love running my fingers through it — the way it smells.

  The doors to the training center slam, and I almost drop the bar when I catch a glimpse of a dark, silky ponytail in my peripheral vision.

  I act as though I don’t see Harper striding toward me in her gray fatigues. They aren’t loose enough to make me forget those shorts, but luckily her hair is mostly contained, and the top half of her is swimming in the gray overshirt.

  “Hey,” she says, a little louder than she needs to. We’re the only ones here, but you’d think we had an audience.

  She’s only a few feet away now, looking slightly rattled.

  “Hey,” I say, focusing on getting a full extension on my press.

  She takes a deep breath, and I can tell she’s been dying to tell someone what she found on my computer. “So I didn’t have a lot of time to go rooting around on your hard drive, but I’d bet money that malware was downloaded when you clicked that link in your message from Walter Cunningham’s office.”

  “You think Walter Cunningham is part of Constance?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him, but no. I think that email was a fake.”

  “Okay.”

  “I could get the malware off your computer and your interface, but I think that would look suspicious.”

  I still don’t meet her gaze. I don’t want to look into those big gray eyes again. “You’re probably right.”

  “You should just leave it on your computer and try not to let them catch you doing anything illegal.”

  “Sounds good.”

  My short responses are bound to piss her off, but I need her to leave me alone so I can banish the thoughts of her soft lips on mine.

  “Eli?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yep,” I say in a businesslike voice. “I don’t plan on doing any more illegal stuff, so they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

  “So you don’t even care that they’re watching you?”

  “Should I?”

  “Yes.” She lets out an irritated sigh and crosses the small distance between us. Before I can prepare myself for what she’s about to do, Harper swings her leg over the bench, knocking her knees into mine. All I see is her torso until I feel her hands on the bar, pushing it toward my face.

  The weight seems to double, and I freeze with shock.

  This girl is trying to kill me.

  “What’s your deal?” she snaps.

  “Nothing,” I groan, pushing against the bar to stop it from crushing my chest.

  She throws more of her weight on it, and my arms wobble. Not good.

  “Why aren’t you going to fight this? It’s wrong, Eli.”

  “Harper! Get — off!” I grunt. I’m sweating and panting now. I shouldn’t have loaded the bar with so much weight.

  “When did you turn into such a coward?”

  “What?”

  Summoning all the energy I have, I thrust the bar up and re-rack it. Harper was already leaning toward me. When the weight disappears, she flies forward, nearly face-planting onto the floor and stabbing me in the chest with her bony elbow in the process.

  “Jesus!” I catch her around the waist and steady her.

  She huffs, grabbing the side of the bench. She’s full-on straddling me right now, and she pulls herself off in a hurry.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Why are you acting this way?” she asks. “Everything went down just as we planned.”

  “I know,” I say incredulously, still a little stunned.

  “Then why don’t you care that they’re watching your every move? I thought . . . I thought you’d want to do something.”

  I stare at her. “You said yourself that it would make them suspicious if you removed the malware. I don’t really have another option.”

  Harper crosses her arms, and I know whatever comes out of her mouth next is going to be trouble. “I didn’t say that.”

  I pull myself into a seated position. “What are you saying?”

  She grins briefly, and I want to go bang my head against the wall for all the thoughts that come to mind. I realize I want to make her smile like that again — I want her smiling because of me.

  “I’m saying you could use the surveillance to mess with them.”

  I shake my head. “No. No way.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  I’m standing up, and when she takes a step backward, I realize I’m doing that towering-over-her thing again. I try to relax my shoulders and get out of her face. “They tortured you, remember?”

  Her mouth tightens into a thin line, and she gives me a nasty look that says she doesn’t need to be reminded. “Of course I remember.”

  “I’m just saying that after what Constance did to you . . . you’re lucky to be alive.”

  I take a step toward her, holding out my hands and trying to keep my voice low and nonthreatening. “We don’t want them as our enemy, Harper.”

  Her eyes widen a little. She’s surprised, probably because I said “we.” I know I always find it shocking when I’m a part of anybody’s “we.”

  She looks at me and starts to nod when the double doors burst open. Lenny and Kindra saunter in, and Harper takes an automatic step back. She stares at me for a moment and turns to go join them on the other side of the room.

  I take a second to pull myself together and force the memory of Harper’s lips out of my mind. I’m not succeeding, but the other girls don’t pay any attention to me.

  Bear and Blaze shuffle in, and I tell them to pair off to work on the maneuver we practiced last week. It’s ground defense — the last one the cadets have to master before moving on to disarming attackers with weapons.

  Part of me hopes that Harper will grab Lenny or Kindra so I won’t have to partner with her again, but I have a feeling they are too intimidated. Harper’s advanced much faster than the rest of them, and she doesn’t hold back in practice.

  Reluctantly, I join her in the empty ring and pull on my gloves. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the other cadets starting the exercise from the ground, but Harper steps up in front of me.

  She knows I’m going to make her begin from a fighting stance. I’ve tried to tell the others that falling the right way is just as important as what you do on the ground, but they don’t listen.

  Harper shakes out her arms and tucks her chin, giving me this look that says she did try to get away from me. I grin before I can help myself, and she looks pleasantly surprised.

  I circle Harper
slowly and throw a few warm-up jabs. She deflects them easily and even returns a few well-aimed counterstrikes.

  I’m not going as hard or fast as I can, but she still impresses me. It’s actually hard to get in close enough to make contact with her shoulder and pull her leg out from under her, but she hits the mat, and I see irritation etched all over her face.

  She knew what I was going to do, but takedowns still suck.

  I tower over her, straddling her legs, and a sense of dread washes over me. For this self-defense maneuver, I prefer to have the girls practice with girls, and now I’m really thinking I should have insisted. Even though it’s just me, I see panic in Harper’s eyes right until she throws her hips and flips me back onto the mat.

  Suddenly our roles are reversed, and she’s straddling me. Her fist flies out, and I’m barely fast enough to deflect her punch.

  With most cadets, I would stop and start the exercise from the beginning to give them a chance to catch their breath. But Harper can handle nonstop, so I flip her over and make her go through it all again. We do this a few more times, and I can tell she’s getting winded.

  On her last flip, her hips don’t come up enough, and she barely has the strength to push me off her. She still does, though, which is amazing.

  I check the clock and decide she’s had enough. I hold out a hand to help her up, and she takes it uneasily. She stares at me for a moment, and I give her a nod of approval.

  “How did I do?” she prompts.

  “Pretty good,” I lie.

  She did great.

  Harper nods slowly and opens and closes her mouth. That isn’t like her.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Do I get to advance to the next level?”

  “What?” I splutter, not sure I heard right. I never told the cadets which maneuvers were the milestones we used to advance them. “Who told you which self-defenses you had to pass before you moved on?”

  She shrugs. “Everybody knows.”

  Now it makes sense that I haven’t heard the other cadets talking and laughing. They’re actually taking this one seriously because they know they have to pass it.

  Harper should advance to the next level, but that means Jayden will start to oversee some of her training. And once Jayden gets a good look at Harper, she’s going to want to send her out early. It’s been almost nine weeks. Twelve weeks is the minimum amount of training cadets can receive before they’re deployed.