Three

by Kristen Simmons

  “It’s me, Billy,” I called. “It’s Ember.” It took a moment to tear my gaze away from Chase’s.

  We went to meet him. The woods thinned, revealing the neat rows of wooden crosses and the shed to our left. There was something wrong about that building, something creepy. I shivered. It reminded me of where they brought the girls who acted out at reform school.

  Billy’s steps had quickened when he recognized my voice, but when he came closer I could see he held a rifle against his chest like a shield.

  “You guys aren’t supposed to be out here,” he said.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked Chase, looking around.

  He hesitated. “Keeping watch.”

  “Over what?” Chase asked.

  Billy moved the gun over his shoulder, adjusting the strap across his chest. “Did you follow me or something?”

  I took another step forward and Billy retreated into the shadows. It wasn’t too late to see his eyes were red and swollen.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, fear tightening my chest. “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t answer right away. “You don’t have to keep worrying about me.” But his voice wasn’t as abrasive as it had been in the past.

  “You’re my friend,” I said.

  He picked at the weapon strap, keeping his eyes downcast.

  “I gotta get out of here,” he said. “If I could get on the mainframe, I could find out who Reinhardt’s got in Charlotte.”

  Of course Billy would think Wallace was one of Chancellor Reinhardt’s prisoners. He still thought his adopted father had survived the fire in Knoxville.

  Another set of footsteps came from the shed, and this time DeWitt emerged through the trees. He didn’t come toward us though; he made for the center of the cemetery, where he was joined by four other people coming from the road. A pear-shaped woman I recognized as Ms. Rita. A man with red hair—Van Pelt—and Panda, from the kitchen. Patch was there as well, a little behind the others, but ramrod straight. The entire council was here.

  Will was wrong; Jesse was nowhere in sight. It hadn’t made sense that he and DeWitt would be together anyway.

  Billy lowered his head and hurried back to guard the door. I watched him go, wishing there was something I could do to help him.

  Silently, Chase and I went to hear what the council had decided.

  Dawn was coming, and though I rubbed my arms the chill would not leave my skin. I couldn’t help but feel like something bad had happened, or was going to happen, but that couldn’t be. No one was morbid enough to tell you bad news when you were standing among the dead.

  When we reached them, I saw that DeWitt carried something under his arm. A stack of folded clothing—the navy jacket I’d recognize anywhere, and a long blue skirt made up the top and bottom. My eyes lowered to the two guns tucked in the front of his waistband.

  “The printing plant in Greeneville is a minimum security facility, with just a skeleton staff after hours. Because of that we’re only sending a small team.” DeWitt passed Chase the clothing. “You’re sure your contacts there will recognize you?”

  “Yes,” we both said. The thought of seeing Marco and Polo, the two soldiers who’d helped refugees make it to the safe house, lightened my mood. The last time I’d seen them, they’d let us steal an FBR cruiser so we could go back to Louisville.

  “You’ll have the staff reformat the Statutes to what the council has discussed, then deliver them to several key posts. Let them know that despite the fall of the safe house, Three still stands. Deliver the Statutes. And tell them we will be seeking vengeance for good lives lost.” He paused as if he needed to catch his breath. “The carriers should be able to spread the word from there. Let them know our timetable. We need as many bodies on board before Charlotte as we can get.”

  Those bodies wouldn’t be living if the MM destroyed those posts before we got there.

  DeWitt nodded to Chase. “Your uncle’s asked to be assigned to the mission.”

  It surprised me that Jesse already knew of it. They had put together this team so quickly.

  “I want Billy to come, too,” I interrupted. The council members stared at me. I guess people didn’t question DeWitt’s orders too much.

  “He can break into the mainframe, find out what he can about the prisoners.” The last time we were in Greeneville he’d hacked into Marco and Polo’s computers to search for any new MM arrests from Knoxville. “Please,” I added.

  Patch scoffed. Panda was shaking his head at me.

  “All right,” said DeWitt. Panda froze.

  The doctor focused on me.

  “You remind me of my daughter,” he said after a moment. “Maybe that’s why I feel the need to tell you that this isn’t going to be a walk in the park. Once people see you alive, see what you’re doing with the Statutes, everything’s going to change.” He paused. “Consider staying behind. This mission can be run without you. We could send a decoy.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was my idea, my name.

  “First you don’t trust me,” I said. “Now you’re trying to protect me?”

  “You’re a valuable asset,” said DeWitt. “We’d like to eliminate risk.”

  So it wasn’t about my safety, it was about my usefulness to Three. That’s why Sean had been sent to get Tucker instead of me.

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that?” Chase’s tone was cold.

  I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the muscles flinch beneath.

  “You’re not sending someone out pretending to be me,” I said, trying to keep an even tone. “We already did that in Knoxville.”

  Recognition flashed in DeWitt’s eyes.

  “I know Cara worked for you,” I said, going on a hunch that Cara’s sniper attacks on the MM had truly been supported by Three, as I’d suspected. “And I know she died for you. I was there with her in Greeneville right before the MM took her. She gave everything to the cause. Nobody else is taking the fall in my name.”

  Twin red streaks blossomed on either side of DeWitt’s jaw. My pulse quickened; I was playing with fire. Chase inched beside me.

  “When do we leave?” he asked.

  “Soon,” said DeWitt. “There’s just one small matter to attend to first.”

  I exhaled, but didn’t feel relieved.

  “Then do it already,” said Panda.

  “Do what?” asked Chase.

  “We brought you here because this is where we honor the brave,” said DeWitt. “Among those who gave all they had willingly.” Three’s leader watched me closely, gauging my response. The situation didn’t sit right. The graves looked peaceful enough, blanketed with dried leaves, even bundled wildflowers in a couple of places, but that didn’t mean someone’s bones weren’t under my feet.

  “Show her,” said Ms. Rita.

  DeWitt untied the neck of his tunic and pulled it to the side, exposing one shoulder. Ms. Rita followed suit, then the others. There, on their left shoulders just below the collarbone, were three parallel scars, pale blue in the light of the moon. Scars I’d once seen on Cara the last time I’d seen her. They’d been what the woman in the radio room had been looking for when she’d told me about the soldier counts.

  The breeze shifted then, and brought with it the heaviness of responsibility.

  “You do this thing, you don’t just do it for your mother,” said DeWitt. “You do it for all the mothers. All the daughters and fathers and sons. Do you understand?”

  I didn’t. But I nodded anyway.

  “We carry these marks as a symbol of our dedication to the cause.” Patch’s voice was strong despite his withered form.

  “We carry them on our hearts as a mark of trust,” said Ms. Rita. She turned to Panda.

  “We carry them to remember those who have fallen,” he said.

  “We carry them so that no one can take them away,” finished Van Pelt.

  “We carry them,” said DeWitt stepping closer, “becau
se they remind us we are not alone.” I glanced to the side, realizing the council members had formed a circle around us. Their right hands were resting over their hearts in the way I’d seen the people of Endurance do when we first arrived.

  “Hold on,” said Chase. I held out my hand to stop him. They were right; this was bigger than me, and the sooner I accepted that the better.

  I wasn’t afraid anymore—not of this place, not of the council members or their purpose.

  Not even when DeWitt pulled the knife from his pocket.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Are you sure?” whispered Chase.

  Nervously, I untied my collar, and tilted my head to the side as DeWitt brandished the knife against my heart.

  “It only hurts for a moment,” he said softly.

  On the first cut I siphoned in a quick breath, locked my jaw, and stared at the closest cross.

  On the second, I exhaled.

  I never felt the third.

  “Welcome to Three,” said DeWitt.

  * * *

  THE cool night air made the mark sting, but I didn’t care. For the first time since we’d arrived I felt like I actually belonged here.

  DeWitt withdrew a bandage from his pocket. He removed the sticky backing and placed it gently over the wound. I followed the council members and tied the collar back in place; no one I knew to be a part of Three broadcasted their marks.

  They looked to Chase, and Chase looked to me.

  We’ll never be able to go back, he’d said. These were our lives now.

  But when I considered them marking him, I felt unsure of my choice. It was like standing on a cliff, inching closer to the edge.

  A crash inside the shed distracted me, bringing a chill up my spine. DeWitt’s head snapped in that direction, and soon he was running toward the sound.

  “Billy,” I whispered. Chase and I followed closely behind.

  We reached the door and found Billy still outside. Physically, he looked fine; there was no blood, no broken bones. But his knuckles were flexed around the gun he pointed at the door.

  Another crash came from inside, this time followed by a male’s sharp cry of pain. DeWitt was struggling to open the deadbolt on the door with a key from around his neck.

  “Who’s in there?” Chase asked.

  “Your uncle,” muttered DeWitt. A second later he’d removed the lock, but Chase shoved him aside and plowed through the entrance. I followed him inside, blinking back the bright lantern light coming from three of the four walls.

  To my left, hidden from view of the front door, was an animal cage, like that which would hold livestock, and curled across the bottom of it, too big to stretch out, was a man.

  His face was bruised and swollen. His navy blue uniform jacket was stained with blood and sweat. Standing outside the cage, his hands entangled in the mesh, was Jesse. He had a pair of needle-nose pliers in his teeth.

  “Oh,” I said, siphoning in a breath.

  Chase was staring at his uncle, the shock on his face hardening to rage.

  “Rebel dogs,” muttered the soldier. He grinned at me, teeth bloody. “You know what they call a female rebel dog?”

  Jesse kicked the mesh, sending it rattling against the back wall. The man flipped over onto his other side. With him facing away I could breathe again.

  “You keep prisoners here,” I said, forcing myself to look away from the soldier.

  This was a war. He was the enemy. Men like him were killing my friends.

  Not that long ago you thought I was the enemy, too, Sean had said.

  “How did you think we knew about the chief’s party?” asked DeWitt quietly.

  I turned and skipped the steps, landing on the ground. I couldn’t be near him a second longer.

  Chase followed me, one hand over his mouth.

  “He’s a man,” I said, “not an animal.”

  Chase’s eyes darkened. He lowered his hand. “I know that.”

  “They’re holding him in a cage, Chase! That’s what they do. That’s not what we do!”

  “I know,” he said.

  I pulled away from him, disgusted with what I’d seen, with the marks still burning my chest. He stared into the night, fingers woven behind his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I felt sick. I was a part of this now, a part of all of it. Forever. The proof was right there on my skin.

  But we still had to go. However bad Three was, the MM was worse.

  I told myself this again and again.

  Jesse stepped into the doorway, a dark shadow against the bright lights inside. He met Chase’s accusing stare, the air between them growing heavy with challenge.

  “If you want to know, just ask, Chase.” It was the first time I’d heard Jesse use his first name. His voice was soft, careful, and seemed to hold DeWitt and Billy back from intervening.

  “I don’t,” said Chase.

  Jesse’s head fell forward. Somewhere deep inside, I felt a slash of pity.

  “I have to tell Rebecca we’re leaving,” I said. Sean may have already gone; I couldn’t leave her alone without saying good-bye.

  Chase led the way.

  * * *

  REBECCA was not in the kitchen or the south wing. Chase checked the dorms, but she wasn’t there either. My search became frantic; if I didn’t find her soon, I wouldn’t be able to tell her we were going.

  Finally, we made our way to the barn. The breezeway had recently been raked, and the stalls smelled of fresh hay. A few horses trotted close to the gates as we approached, looking for treats. They snorted and stomped their feet when I passed them by.

  I spared a lingering glance up at the loft, then blushed when Chase caught me.

  Outside, the slow clomp-de-clomp of hoof beats approached, and we turned toward the entry, where a girl’s soothing voice carried into the barn.

  “That’s a good girl. A little closer to the fence. Good girl.”

  Chase and I shared a skeptical look, then stepped outside.

  Rebecca was riding a horse. Our Rebecca, who could barely walk, had somehow managed to climb aboard a creature whose back was the height of my shoulders. Gently, the dark mare edged against the fence, and for a moment I thought Rebecca’s leg was about to be crushed. Chase reached for the horse’s bridle.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, waving him off. We watched as she maneuvered off the mare’s back, and slowly, steadily, climbed down the fence to her waiting crutch. As she fitted it to her arm, she blew out a slow, painful breath, then smiled. The horse waited patiently, bobbing her head as if in approval.

  “That was impressive,” said Chase.

  “I know.” Rebecca smirked. “Doctor DeWitt says Junebug helps with my rehab.”

  I winced at DeWitt’s name. His kindness to Rebecca made what I’d seen in the shed even harder to swallow.

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “The orchard.”

  “What?” The last time we were there we were attacked by a group of savage boys. “You went alone?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I have Junebug. And this.” She lifted a flap on the saddle bag, revealing a black handgun. “Sean gave it to me. There’s a small stash of weapons at the front gate he wasn’t supposed to know about. Hush, hush and all that.”

  I placed a tentative hand on the horse’s neck, feeling the muscles flex beneath her soft coat. She swung her head toward me, one big brown eye staring me down, and nibbled at the loose fabric of my shirt.

  “He said if something happens, I’m supposed to meet him at the orchard,” she added. “He’s a worry wart.”

  I looked to Chase, who shoved his hands in his pockets. When I turned back, tears had filled Rebecca’s eyes, and I hugged her, harder than I meant to.

  “Are you just here to check on me?” asked Rebecca, taking a deep breath. “Because Sean’s coming back. He promised.”

  “We’re leaving, too,” I said quietly. I didn’t let h
er go, even when her arms dropped from my shoulders. For the first time I truly considered we might not come back. If it wasn’t going to be so dangerous, I would have taken her with us.

  “Everyone’s leaving,” she said when I finally backed away. She turned back to Junebug, hiding her face. “Well, go then. I’m fine.”

  I waited a second, hating the hurt in her tone. Chase touched my arm. We needed to leave.

  We’d made it to the end of the paddock fence before I heard her voice one last time.

  “Be careful.”

  I didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER

  15

  THE day passed, but I only saw a narrow strip of it in the slash of yellow light painting the ceiling of the MM delivery truck. Hay-filled crates were packed against the rollaway door, creating the impression that the compartment was full. The back quarter was left open for Billy and me.

  I wasn’t sure if he was mad at me again, or just quiet. Either way, my mind was filled with thoughts of our mission. Worry of the danger we’d be in back in the interior, but also for those who would read the new Statutes and fight against the MM.

  I didn’t know if this would make a difference. I wanted it to, but at the same time, I didn’t, because I didn’t know if I was strong enough to carry the responsibility of innocent people risking their lives.

  Maybe DeWitt felt this way when he sent people out. Maybe it was something you got used to. I didn’t see how.

  Chase and Jesse drove. There were only two seats in the cab, and if we were stopped by a border patrol it was better to have two ex-soldiers up front rather than a fourteen-year-old in a baggy MM uniform and a Sister of Salvation. If I had to guess, they still weren’t speaking.

  With each blind bump and turn we were tossed from side to side, until finally, I pushed aside some of the boxes, spread out one of the packing blankets, and laid down on the floor. My thoughts turned to Sean—to the last words we’d shared—and to Rebecca, who’d been left alone to say good-bye to him. The air, already heavy with heat and tension, grew even more oppressive, and as I lay there, I wished I could ask if she thought I was doing the right thing with the Statutes.