The Only Thing to Fear

by Caroline Tung Richmond

  Uncle Red pushed Zara behind a statue of Führer Dieter, which already had its arms blasted off. “Don’t stand in the open like that!” He aimed at two Nazis running toward them and took them out with one shot each. Zara watched the soldiers tumble onto the grass, finally understanding why her uncle had been considered the best shot in the Greenfield chapter. He didn’t miss.

  “You can stare at me later!” Uncle Red said. His rifle popped again and again. Both hits. “I need your help, Zara.”

  Snapping to attention, Zara held out her hands, urging the lightning to spring onto her skin, but then she heard something that made her blood freeze.

  “Kill the Nazi! Kill Eckhart!” The chant floated above the din.

  Zara’s eyes jerked toward the sound. To her left, in the shadow of the Officers’ Hall, Bastian was lying in a trampled flower bed, trying to fend off three prisoners. One of them held Bastian down while the others pummeled him with their fists, striking him again and again despite his attempts to throw them off. Terror poured over her — she had to stop them.

  “Stay here!” she said to her uncle. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

  She didn’t answer him. Shaking free from her uncle’s grip, Zara ran to save the Nazi cadet.

  Zara gathered a flurry of wind and thrust it toward the prisoners beating Bastian. The wall of air knocked them off their feet, hurling them into a row of hedges. While the prisoners staggered out of the bushes, she reached Bastian and dragged him behind the bullet-ridden Officers’ Hall. They would be safe from the barrage here, at least for a few seconds.

  She rolled Bastian onto his back and shuddered at what she saw. Blood poured out of his nose, and painful scarlet marks had already formed along his jaw. “Bastian? Can you hear me?”

  His left eye opened, but his right one remained swollen shut. “Zara?”

  “It’s me.” A loud hiss jolted Zara’s attention away from Bastian’s injuries, and she cursed at what she saw. Thirty yards behind them, a Nazi soldier had launched a canister of tear gas, and the poison was drifting in their direction. She hurled another gust of wind toward it, but tendrils of gas snaked toward them anyway. “I need you to get up, okay?”

  Woozy from his head wounds, Bastian staggered onto his feet and leaned heavily on Zara’s shoulder. “What’s happening out here? I got to the Officers’ Hall early, but then I started hearing gunshots.”

  Zara couldn’t tell him about the prison break or the Alliance attack with that tear gas snaking toward them. She scrambled for what they should do next. With Bastian hurt, she had to get him away from the fighting, but she didn’t know where he would be safe. She couldn’t take him home, either, in case his father had discovered what Bastian had done.

  Before she could form a plan, though, Zara felt someone shove Bastian away from her. Images of Sentinel Achen flashed in her mind and her body went cold all over, but then her attacker showed his face.

  “What are you doing?” Uncle Red asked, his pistol aimed at Bastian. “You could have gotten yourself killed! And for what? For this Nazi boy?”

  “He’s not a Nazi, Uncle Red!” Zara jumped between the gun and Bastian. Her worlds were colliding at the very worst moment.

  Bastian stood behind her. “She’s right,” he said. “Mr. St. James —”

  “Stay away from us, Eckhart!”

  A second tear gas canister burst open by the Officers’ Hall, spewing out its poisonous contents, and Zara’s instincts took over. Grabbing them both by the arm, she called to the wind, hoping it would be strong enough to hold the three of them.

  “Zara, no!” her uncle cried. “It’s too much weight!”

  She screamed for the wind to pull them up, climbing above the noxious gas and guiding them toward the dense woods surrounding the fort. But Zara’s lungs huffed with each breath. She had pushed her powers to the limits tonight, and the toll of it was catching up to her fast. They wobbled midair, dropping ten feet.

  “There’s a field over there!” Uncle Red shouted at her, sensing she was about to collapse.

  Blinking the spots from her eyes, she steered them to an empty training field that lay on the very edge of Fort Goering. Rebel bodies littered the red-stained grass, along with a few Nazis, but the fighting had moved to the center of the base, leaving the field deserted. The three of them tumbled onto the ground, arms and legs crashing against the hard earth. Zara’s face smashed against a clump of weeds, and she sat up, coughing.

  Bastian was the first to stand. “Zara!” He dashed over to check on her. When he saw that she was all right, he said, “Can you get up?”

  At the same time, Uncle Red yanked her toward him. “I told you to stay away from her, Eckhart!”

  Bastian held up his hands. “I’m not working for my father, Mr. St. James. Please, if you give me a chance —”

  “Get back,” Uncle Red snarled, stepping backward with Zara in tow. He kept his gun aimed at Bastian.

  “Listen to me, Uncle Red!” Zara broke from his grip, panting. “Put the gun down.”

  “He’s the Colonel’s son!”

  “And he’s one of us.” She placed herself between the gun and Bastian again, the only way to guarantee that her uncle wouldn’t fire.

  Bastian cautiously stepped up behind her. “I know this is confusing, Mr. St. James, but we better find cover soon. There’s a tunnel not far from here that we can use to get out. After that, I’ll answer any questions you have.”

  “We? What do you mean by ‘we’?” Uncle Red’s gaze stormed from Bastian to Zara. “Someone needs to explain what’s going on. Now.”

  They didn’t have time for explanations, but Zara knew her stubborn uncle wouldn’t budge until she answered him. “Bastian’s grandfather was a member of the Widerstand, and Bastian wants to join the Alliance. You have to trust me on this, Uncle Red.”

  “The Widerstand?” Uncle Red gaped. “You honestly believe that?”

  “I know what you must think of me,” Bastian said, his hands still up in the air, “but what Zara said is true. My grandfather joined the Widerstand and was hanged for treason.”

  Uncle Red didn’t lower his pistol.

  “Bastian tried to save me from the hospital!” Zara said. “He gave me the key to escape. Why would he do that if he was a Nazi? If he was working for his father?”

  The suspicion failed to ebb from Uncle Red’s eyes. “We don’t know where that ‘escape tunnel’ goes. It could be a ploy.”

  “It’s not,” said Bastian. “I’m not my father. He let my Opa die, and that’s when I knew that enough was enough.” He went on to explain his repeated attempts to gain Zara’s trust and then how he had replicated the hospital key to break Zara out from the hospital. With each revelation, Uncle Red drew in a sharp breath.

  When Bastian finished, Uncle Red looked ready to launch into a barrage of questions, but the sound of an approaching engine stopped him short. The three glanced frantically around the field.

  “There’s a truck coming this way!” Zara pointed behind her, where a Nazi supply truck rambled down the gravel path, zooming straight toward them. The soldiers must have seen Zara flying above the fort and had come to kill her.

  “The tunnel is this way — follow me!” Bastian shouted.

  The three of them ran, but the truck sped faster, its lights bright on their backs. Panic burst through Zara’s veins. As soon as the truck was within range, the soldiers would start firing. She screamed for the wind to carry them upward, but only a tired breeze heeded her call.

  Uncle Red fired at the truck’s tires, but his magazine emptied out and the vehicle overtook them, swinging around to block them from the fence. Zara skidded to a stop. The soldier in the passenger seat shouted at them and waved his arms. But, strangely, he didn’t carry a weapon.

  Raising his pistol, Uncle Red aimed at the truck again, but the soldier held up his hands, like he was surrendering. He cried out to the driver.
r />   “Alene, drop the disguises!”

  Zara blinked at him. Disguises?

  Both of the soldiers climbed out of the cab, never straying a few feet away from the other. “Zara, Redmond, it’s me!” said the male soldier. “Don’t shoot.”

  Bastian took Zara by the arm. “We need to go!” The opening to the tunnel lay just behind the supply truck. They could still make a run for it.

  But Zara’s jaw nearly unhinged at what happened next. The soldier named Alene shut her eyes, murmuring something under her breath, and the Nazis began to transform. The female soldier shrank in size, and her hair turned from a straw blond to a rust red. In only a few seconds, she had changed from a middle-aged soldier to a twenty-something slip of a girl.

  At the same time, the male soldier shot up in height and his skin darkened from pale white to hazelnut. As his nose and chin stretched out, Zara sucked in her breath at the new face that he wore.

  It couldn’t be him. She was sure he had died at Camp Hammerstein. And yet, he was standing in front of her.

  “Garrison?” she whispered.

  Garrison limped forward, his hand clutching a soiled bandage on his shoulder. When he reached Zara, she saw that his clothes were wet with blood. “It’s me. Alene and I had to disguise ourselves to break into the fort’s weaponry.”

  Zara searched for words, but they wouldn’t come. Her head reeled at what she had just seen. Finally, she spluttered, “You escaped the bombers at Camp Hammerstein?”

  “We both did.” Garrison nodded at his companion, who stared warily at Uncle Red and Bastian. “Celia Farragut didn’t. One of our colleagues, Paul Murdock, is acting commander in chief for now. He’s the one who carried out the attack here.”

  Both Uncle Red and Bastian looked as tongue-tied as Zara. “These disguises … how did … ?” said Uncle Red.

  “That’s thanks to Alene Silverman.” Garrison gestured at the young woman next to him. “She has the ability to manipulate appearances — her own as well as others, as long as they’re standing nearby. She’s the one who infiltrated Channel Seven and got the Alliance attack broadcasted. We were in the armory when I got shot, and she dragged me out. She was taking me to the medics when I saw you flying over us.” His eyes searched over Zara. “You didn’t tell us you were an Anomaly.”

  “She’s a Dual Anomaly,” Uncle Red cut in. “And it was my call to keep her powers a secret. The fewer people who knew about it, the safer she was.”

  “A Dual Anomaly?” Garrison said, coughing. “What’s your other power?”

  “Lightning,” Zara said tentatively. “I only just manifested that, though.”

  “You could’ve been an asset tonight if your uncle had told us —” Garrison grimaced and leaned on Alene for support.

  “Time to go. Now,” said Alene. Despite her small stature, her voice contained iron. “Get in the truck. We have to get him to a doctor.”

  “Actually, I’m a medic.” Bastian took a step forward. “I can take a look at the wound.”

  Alene stiffened at Bastian’s accent. Her eyes cooled even more. “Is this one with you?” she said sharply to Uncle Red. “This German?”

  Uncle Red stared warily from Bastian to Alene and then to Zara. “He is,” he said slowly. “He saved my niece’s life.”

  “He wants to join the Alliance,” Zara said to Alene. She walked toward Bastian, who was holding his breath. “He’s no more a Nazi than I am.”

  Garrison groaned but managed to lift up his head. “We’ll take him with us, Alene. Let’s get into the truck.”

  “Exactly where are we going?” Uncle Red said. “What about the rest of the Alliance?”

  “Get in and I’ll explain,” Garrison replied.

  Relief washed over Zara, grateful that her uncle and Garrison had accepted Bastian without any bullets getting fired — at least for the moment. Four of them climbed into the back of the military truck, which was filled with black crates — weapons that Garrison and Alene must have stolen — while Alene went around to the driver’s seat. Bastian helped Garrison lie down and got to work examining his shoulder, cleaning it, and sewing it with a medical kit that Alene had handed to him. When Bastian was finished, he urged his new patient not to move, but Garrison waved him off and started talking.

  “We need to head out now. The mission at Fort Goering was a success,” Garrison said while Zara, Bastian, and Uncle Red sat around him. “We’ve used ten trucks to clean out the fort’s armory. That’s more than we had hoped for.”

  “So what happens next?” said Uncle Red.

  “Murdock will retreat with the rest of the rebels, but Alene and I have our own mission ahead of us.”

  Alene swiveled her head around. “That’s classified information.”

  “We’ll need Zara for this next mission as well. You two are the only Anomalies we have left. Kenneally is dead, and Schmidt was shot twice. And we don’t know what happened to Zhang. We have no other choice.”

  Alene sighed but nodded. “Fill them in on what’s going on, then,” she said while she started the engine. Bastian pointed her toward the tunnel out of the fort, explaining how it was one of the escape routes that only his father and his officers knew about. As Alene guided the vehicle through the dark tunnel, Uncle Red turned back to Garrison.

  “What does Zara have to do with this mission of yours?” said Uncle Red. “Is the Alliance still planning on storming Neuberlin?”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that. Murdock will lead the siege on the capital — that plan is a go. But while the rebels sweep through Neuberlin, Alene and I are going straight to the White House.”

  “The White House?” Uncle Red said incredulously. “You’re heading straight into the Nazi hornet’s nest?”

  “We’re doing it for good reason.” Garrison coughed again but soldiered on with his explanation. “Right before the attack on Fort Goering, we got a message from one of our sources in Berlin. Apparently, the Führer is throwing a gala to celebrate the anniversary of Nazi rule in the Territories — and the gala will be held at the White House. We think this last-minute ‘celebration’ is another desperate attempt to throw off the Soviets. To remind them that the Empire is still strong.”

  “Dieter is coming to the Territories, then?” Bastian said, steadying himself as the truck bumped through the tunnel. “And what is this attack on Neuberlin?”

  “I should’ve told you earlier, Bastian,” Zara cut in, realizing that she had never filled him in on Operation Burning Eagle. She hadn’t thought it was necessary after Camp Hammerstein; she had assumed the Alliance would call everything off. And so, very quickly, she explained the operation to Bastian, or at least what Garrison had told her during his first visit to the farmhouse. “But I don’t know what the Alliance plans to do at the White House.” She glanced at Garrison. “What’s going on exactly?” And what does it have to do with me? she thought.

  “Like I said, Dieter is throwing a gala for all of his high-ranking officers and diplomats. He has already been in Neuberlin for weeks now, in fact, ever since the Reds pushed into the borderlands. His advisers worried that Premier Volkov would try to bomb Berlin, so they sent Dieter across the ocean to where they thought he’d be safest. He has been tucked away at the White House ever since.”

  “Will Dieter’s double be at this gala?” said Uncle Red, both of his brows knitted together.

  “Yes, the double will attend the event while the real Führer is hidden in Reichsmarschall Baldur’s residential wing. He’s still very ill, from what our sources tell us.”

  “When will the gala take place? Next week?” Uncle Red asked.

  “Tomorrow night, actually,” said Garrison. “That’s when we’ll launch the biggest mission the Alliance has ever undertaken.”

  “And what’s that?” Zara asked, the hairs on her neck prickling.

  Garrison’s eyes locked onto hers. “We take out the Eagle. We assassinate the Führer.”

  Zara drew in a sharp breath.


  Beside her, Bastian froze. “You want to do what?”

  The Alliance had never tackled something on this level before. Or with so little time to plan. Yes, they had killed Nazis and overrun two military bases, but killing the leader of the Empire? And that wasn’t all. If Zara had heard Garrison correctly, he wanted her to go on this mission with him. A thrill coursed through her, followed by a stomach-twisting fear. An operation like this would be the biggest thing she had ever done in her life — and the deadliest.

  “We’ll kill the Führer at the gala,” Garrison repeated, as if it were that simple. “We’ll record the whole thing and broadcast it on national television. We need to do this if we want to start a revolution.”

  “But you told us yourself that Dieter has been using a double,” Uncle Red said, gripping onto Zara as the truck hit a bump. “Killing the double leaves Dieter alive.”

  “That’s why we’ll take out both of them. First the double. Then we’ll find Dieter himself.”

  Bastian hastily wiped his hands on a towel and stood up straight, despite the moving truck. “This plan is suicide! We’re going to be fugitives if we go through with it.”

  “Sit down!” Alene said. With both hands on the steering wheel, she shot him a frosty glare. “Frankly, we don’t need you on the mission tomorrow anyway.” Her head snapped back toward the road. “And by the way, you’re already a fugitive — and a traitor — if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’m not a —” Bastian’s eyes flared wide, the weight of her words setting in. He didn’t finish his sentence.

  “Please, Bastian.” Zara took him by the wrist, tugging on it until he sat on the floor again.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “We can’t go back, can we?” he whispered. “To Greenfield.”

  “No, what if your father found out about what you’ve done? He would kill you.”

  “But my mother …”

  Zara went numb. She hadn’t thought about that. There was no way Bastian could return to his mom, not after he had openly aided the Alliance. He couldn’t go home…. And she couldn’t, either. As the truck rumbled north, it took her farther and farther away from the only home she had ever known. She had been born in that farmhouse; she had worked its lands since she was a girl in plaits. Zara’s throat cinched tight, but she swallowed the lump building inside of it. She had Uncle Red with her, at least. But Bastian was alone.