by Tarah Benner
Roman shifted in his seat, thrusting his thighs out even wider. “They’re cowards.”
“You’re one to talk,” snapped Logan.
He let out an irritated huff. “Not this again.”
“Well maybe if you don’t want it brought up again, you should lay off people who made the best decision they thought was right at the time. Maybe they had families.”
“Yeah, I had a family, too . . . once.”
Logan leaned back with a huff. “So did I. They’d be considered among those ‘cowards’ you were talking about.”
“Ladies, please,” said Godfrey in a lazy drawl. “I can’t listen to your bickering all the way to Missouri.” He met Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “He wasn’t trying to insult your family.” Godfrey threw a sidelong look at Roman. “You. Stop antagonizing her.”
“Why are we going back to the farm if we know it’s occupied?” asked Amory suddenly.
“We’re going there because Ida believes it will be the strongest position for the movement.”
“I think she just wants us to take her home back from the PMC.”
Godfrey’s expression went dark. “Do you make the decisions around here?”
Amory’s eyes flickered away, plainly irritated but unwilling to argue with Godfrey.
“Did it ever occur to you that Ida knows what she’s doing?” asked Godfrey. “Did you ever consider that the commune people could be the best to coax others into leaving the communes, even if they’re scared shitless? Do you think maybe Ida has connections in Missouri . . . that she knows the area . . . that the farm is defensible?”
Amory was staring out the window, sulking for being told off, but I was listening intently. I was fascinated by the rebels’ strategy and eager to know what they would do next. World Corp seemed unshakable, but Ida was undeterred. She had a plan.
“So how are we crossing the border?” asked Greyson. “Don’t you think they’ll recognize us after last time?”
Godfrey guffawed. “Honestly, I doubt it. But Ida seems to think they’re smarter than they let on. And after the carrier breach, they’re going to be tightening security — mostly on inbound traffic. In any case, we’re taking the stealth approach.”
We pulled onto a small back road that hadn’t been plowed, the Jeep making slow progress on the snow-covered gravel. We drove in silence for nearly an hour, winding through the trees and passing long stretches of farmland, before pulling onto another county road. This road seemed to take us deeper into the woods, but it was slightly smoother.
Finally, Godfrey slowed to a stop and jumped out of the Jeep. He opened the tailgate, grabbed a pair of bolt cutters from the cargo area, and slammed the door shut.
I watched him warily in the side mirror as he stepped into the tree line. There was a narrow path obstructed by snow with a chain link barrier draped across.
Godfrey cut it easily, got back in the Jeep, and pulled onto the path. The engine groaned as we plowed through the snow, and we shifted around on the uneven terrain.
“Where are we going?” asked Logan. She looked nervous.
“To the border fence.”
I glanced at Amory, but his face was unreadable. The off-road path seemed to narrow the farther we drove.
“They built these service roads so people could access the controllers for the electric fence that seals the border. But no one’s been to this one for a while.”
“You want us to climb an electric fence?” asked Greyson, looking alarmed.
Godfrey snorted. “No. Hell, I thought you were smarter than that.”
Godfrey stopped the Jeep and killed the engine. Logan and Greyson stared into the trees with apprehension, but Amory pushed the door open and half fell out of the Jeep. I ignored the sting at his haste to get away from me and followed, looking around for the fence.
I heard it before I saw it. In the relative stillness of the snow-covered trees, I could discern a faint humming of electricity. Then, as I squinted, the metal grid came into view. It rose up out of the snow, eight feet tall with barbed wire curling at the top.
“Are there cameras?” whispered Logan.
Godfrey shook his head. “Not here. But there are sensors that will be triggered as soon as this part of the grid goes down. That’s why we’ll need to hurry.”
He walked off to the left, and we followed at a distance. My ears were piqued for any sound other than our footsteps, but my heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything else. I was sure the PMC had eyes and ears this close to the border, and I was just waiting for them to swoop down on us.
Suddenly Godfrey stopped, and I knew he had found what he was looking for: a huge metal box mounted on a fence post. It was locked. He rummaged in his pocket and drew out a small square of black plastic. He slapped it on the door, and a tiny light blinked red.
“Clock starts now,” said Godfrey.
I ducked away from the box instinctively, and the others did the same. There was a faint beep — then nothing.
Then a loud bang cracked the door off its hinges, making the metal hum like a tuning fork. Godfrey approached the box tentatively and reached inside.
“As soon as a section of the fence goes down, the PMC will be on high alert,” he grunted, his voice echoing in the metal box. He withdrew a screwdriver from his pocket and began prying something away from the back panel.
My heart pounded harder as he worked, and I waited with bated breath. After a few moments, Godfrey stepped away, shooting a look at Roman.
“This section is down, but we don’t have a lot of time. They have a fail-safe. When a section loses power for more than three minutes, the system restarts itself automatically.”
“So —” Logan started.
“So we have three minutes before either the PMC shows up or we get electrocuted.”
Logan threw me a panicked look, and Roman hunched down near the bottom of the fence and began cutting away the wire. He cut about a foot and a half up the fence and pulled it aside.
“We’re leaving the Jeep?” asked Greyson in alarm.
“Unless you think you can fit it through that hole in less than three minutes,” Godfrey grumbled.
Needing no further instruction, Greyson pushed Logan forward, and she crawled on her hands and knees through the hole Roman had made. It was a fairly tight fit. Greyson shoved her bag through and went in next.
“Hold this for me, will ya?” said Godfrey to Roman. Roman held the wire fencing up, and Godfrey got down on his elbows like a soldier in the trenches and shimmied through the opening. Roman followed, pulling his rucksack behind him.
“Get the guns,” snapped Godfrey.
Amory grabbed the crate and shoved it toward the hole, but it was too big. I hunkered down next to him with the bolt cutters, struggling to cut through the thick wire. My hands hurt, but I cut away two more squares, and Amory shoved the crate through ahead of him. I tossed his rucksack through the hole and got down to follow. The others had disappeared into the trees.
The snow seeped through my pant leg as I got down on the ground, and I ducked my head low to avoid catching my hair in the wire. My upper body was through, and I dug my elbows into the mud as Godfrey had done. But as I pushed my legs off the ground for leverage, I felt myself get yanked backward.
I twisted to free myself, but something was caught in the wire — my jacket. I tried to reach back to extricate whatever was caught, but I couldn’t fit my arm between my body and the fence.
I yanked myself forward, which only caused the piece of wire to dig into my skin.
I pulled again, wincing as the wire cut deeper. I tried to shimmy out of my coat, but the fence was flush with my shoulder blades, restricting my range of motion. I couldn’t move.
My chest heaved as I panicked, but my lungs couldn’t expand fully.
I could no longer see the others.
“Help!” I yelled. How long had it been? I knew I couldn’t have more than a minute before the system restarted.
“Help!” I shouted, louder this time.
No one was coming.
Then I heard a rustle in the trees, and Amory appeared, looking terrified.
“Come on!” he yelled, eyes darting around me.
“I can’t! I’m caught!”
I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: I had only seconds before I would be electrocuted.
His eyes went dark with fear, and he lunged forward, putting his hand on my back to feel where my coat was caught.
“Hurry!” I yelled. The tears were burning in my throat. I didn’t want Amory to get electrocuted, too.
He let out a breath of frustration as he tried to free me.
“Just go,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t want you to —”
“I’m not leaving you,” he growled in his throat. His sharp gray eyes were darting furiously from my coat to the fence to the woods behind me. I knew he was watching for approaching PMC.
“Go!” I yelled. “Now!”
I could hear the sirens in the distance. They were coming.
Amory made a noise of anger in his throat and put his arms around me, gripping my upper body. In one fast motion, he pulled, freeing me from the fence in a rip of fabric. I fell on top of him, and he fumbled to pull us both to our feet.
“Run!”
As we flew through the trees, my heart was beating so hard in my throat that I couldn’t breathe. The shriek of PMC sirens was growing louder, the flashing blue lights inching toward us through the bare branches. I didn’t stop.
Then I caught my ankle in a snarl of underbrush and pitched forward. My elbows screamed as they scraped the dirt, but the rest of my body was still pulling me forward. Before I could right myself, Amory yanked me to my feet, and we were running.
When Godfrey and the others saw us careening toward them, they took off, too. As we ran, I barely noticed the cold wind on my face or the way Amory’s hand was clutching mine.
Something jogged my memory as my legs found their cadence, and I had a flash of us running away from an exploding building.
I could practically smell the burnt plastic on the air and feel the warm ash raining down. Amory’s hand was in mine. The look in his gray eyes was the same as it had been pulling me out of the fence: raw fear mixed with pain.
Hours later, I’d seen that look again.
We were on a bridge. It was snowing lightly. Tanks were barreling toward us, and I could see the flash of PMC lights. I was in Amory’s arms.
I felt the warmth of his lips graze my temple, and then he threw me over the bridge into the icy water below.
He’d been protecting me.
Even though Amory had told me we were together, I hadn’t really believed him until now. A tidal wave of emotions hit me, but I pushed them down. It was too much. These weren’t homey and comforting like my memories of Greyson; they were laced with painful longing, grief, and fear.
“Over here!” someone yelled, pulling me out of the memory.
I looked up to see the others headed toward a shiny black 4Runner. Godfrey tossed the crate of weapons inside, and we all piled in. Roman sat in the front, and Greyson dove into the very back with Logan, but I stayed glued to Amory’s side in the middle row. Godfrey hopped in the driver’s seat, turning the keys in the ignition.
For a horrible moment, I thought the car wasn’t going to start. But then the engine roared, and the headlights flooded the line of trees in front of us. Godfrey put the vehicle in gear and pulled around in the opposite direction. We were all panting heavily, and Roman’s face was beet red, beads of sweat clinging to the short hairs at the base of his neck.
None of us spoke as we bounced along over the uneven forest floor. I glanced at Amory, who was staring at me out of the corner of his eye.
I realized I was still holding his hand. Embarrassment flared in my chest, but I didn’t let go. It was as if my hand had a mind of its own. He didn’t pull away either, but continued to watch me long after I had looked away.
“Find us a route,” Godfrey grumbled to Roman, tossing a battered map from the console into his lap.
Roman unfolded it gingerly. It was an ordinary road map that had been heavily scribbled and highlighted with different colors. There were little notes running over the lines and Xs denoting which routes were no longer safe.
We drove through the trees, none of us daring to speak. Branches snapped beneath us, and our tires groaned through the snow and frozen dirt. The sound of the sirens was fading, but my heart was still thundering against my ribcage.
“We should hit the road soon if we keep heading due south,” said Roman. “But they’re bound to have a roadblock set up now that they know someone’s breached the fence.”
Godfrey let out a low noise like a growl.
Roman continued. “But if we head west, we can pick up a smaller road. It’s not as direct, but I don’t think we’ll run into the PMC’s patrol units.”
Godfrey turned the wheel to change our course, nearly colliding with an enormous tree.
We drove for an hour before the woods started to thin. Then, without warning, the vehicle pitched forward sharply as we drove over a ditch. I threw out a hand to steady myself against the driver’s seat, and the tires connected with smooth pavement.
We were on a county road flanked by tall trees. Even though we were more exposed on the open road, I no longer had the uncomfortable feeling that the PMC was going to materialize out of the darkness or step out from behind a tree.
There was a quiet tick as Godfrey switched off the headlights, and everything was thrust into darkness.
It was strange to feel the movement beneath us when I couldn’t see the road. I gripped the seat, my stomach clenched for our imminent collision with another vehicle, but then I remembered no one drove on this road anymore. We were south of the border now, so the only people we could encounter were the PMC or other illegals.
After several minutes, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The night took on a velvety blue hue, and I drank in the gorgeous scenery. Something about being back in the states and away from World Corp International made me feel less confined. The trees looked fresh and welcoming covered in pure white snow. I knew if I stuck my head out the window, the air would be cold and crisp and wonderful.
We had escaped. I was a name without an identity. I could start over.
I could feel Amory’s eyes on me and knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Something had changed. We were no longer mired in despair. I was no longer their prisoner.
I kept replaying the memories of Amory over and over in my mind. Now I knew I could trust him — that I should have trusted him all along. We had been united once. I’d never been a mole for World Corp.
I realized it didn’t matter what I had been taught in the facility. Most of what Aryus had told me was probably a lie.
I was a rebel now in every way that mattered. When the PMC came to camp, I had fled. I had chosen Amory, Greyson, Logan, and Godfrey. Now I was a fugitive once again, yet I felt hopeful.
In the back row, Logan was slumped against Greyson’s side, fast asleep. He looked exhausted, too, but the happiness in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Is she okay?” I wondered aloud.
Greyson shrugged. “She’s been really tired ever since . . .”
“The cure?”
Roman scoffed. “That poison Aryus gave her nearly killed her. She wouldn’t eat . . . couldn’t keep anything down. She slept for weeks trying to burn off her fever.”
“But she’s better now.”
Greyson cocked his head. “She’s not infected anymore, if that’s what you mean.” His voice was soft, and I could tell he didn’t want to rouse Logan. “But Shriver thinks it gave her permanent nerve damage.”
I remembered Logan’s shaky hands during the carrier attack and felt a pang of sadness. Fighting and shooting was what Logan was good at. It was all she’d known for the last several years.
A memory flickered in the b
ack of my mind: Amory, pulling me behind a stolen cruiser in the parking garage, begging me not to go into the Infinity Building.
“None of us could have known the cure would do that,” said Amory. There was a note of defensiveness in his voice that warmed my heart.
Breaking into World Corp hadn’t been his idea; it had been mine, and Amory had fought me on it.
“Yeah,” said Greyson in a tired voice. “At least she’s alive.”
“So we’re supposed to be grateful World Corp just maimed her after they infected her?” snarled Roman.
We all fell silent. Somehow I knew Roman’s anger had nothing to do with me. If he blamed me for taking Logan to get the cure, it was only because he was trying to find a target for his pent-up hostility against World Corp. In a way, the angrier he became, the sorrier I felt for him. I knew how heavy that resentment was to carry.
No one spoke for several hours. The scenery changed to fields, and the exposure gave me an uncomfortable prickle on the back of my neck. We were the only car on the road — no signs of life anywhere.
We passed several farms, but the land had a fallow, neglected look to it. There were no animals out in the pastures, and the houses we passed were derelict, the windows boarded.
The snow thinned to patches the farther south we drove. When we pulled off at an exit to salvage some gas from an abandoned filling station, the air felt almost warm. Spring was on its way.
As the hot afternoon sun filtered in through the window, I drifted off to sleep with the door handle cutting into my side. I dreamt of Amory and icy waters.
Despite my slumped position, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks, knowing that when I awoke, we would be closer to home.
As we drove past an exit for Columbia, I felt a shiver of recognition. Part of me wanted to go back to see if more memories would resurface, but part of me did not want to drag out old ghosts. This was where Greyson had been captured — where he had lived in fear like a rat for months while the PMC prowled the city.
Finally Godfrey turned off the highway onto a smaller road. We slowed considerably, and I studied the shabby, abandoned houses tucked back in the wasteland of untended cornfields.