“What about Mei?” Alma asked. “If they find out she’s been helping us, they’ll kill her.”
“She can come with us when we leave,” said Tripp.
“You know she’ll never leave Grayridge.”
“She’ll have to. Look, I know this wasn’t part of the plan, but we’re going to have to make the best of it.”
“You can start by killing the girl then,” said Nate.
Tripp stood and turned to face him. “If anyone touches the girl, I’ll turn them in to the Project myself. Let’s go; we’re wasting time.”
“I’ll get the snowmobiles,” Alma said. She put on a coat and ran outside.
Tripp looked down at Zira. “Mei’s a doctor. She’ll help you.”
Zira was too weak to protest. Her vision became increasingly fuzzy around the edges and her whole body felt cold and shaky. She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she heard the growl of a snowmobile’s engine outside. “Help me carry her,” Tripp said to Nate. He grumbled, but did as he was asked. As they lifted Zira, her vision darkened. The next thing she knew, she was sitting behind Tripp on the snowmobile with a quilt draped over her back. Alma wound a rope around both of them, binding her to Tripp. It was a good idea; right now, Zira had little faith in her ability to remain upright on the seat.
They started moving. Zira’s eyes took in the journey in patches as she fought to keep them open. Glimpses of trees and endless snow. Snatches of Tripp’s voice shouting at her over the rush of cold air in her face. A bump in the road that would have sent her flying if not for the rope securing her to Tripp.
They stopped in front of a modest-sized house and Tripp began tugging at the rope. A light turned on inside and a huddled figure ran out to meet them. Zira closed her eyes; she just wanted to sleep.
“What are you doing here?” A woman’s voice. Concerned. Tired. Old.
“I need you to help her.” Tripp lifted Zira and carried her towards the house. “Nate shot her.”
“Who is she?”
“An assassin from the PEACE Project.”
“And you want me to help her?”
“Mei, look at her. She’s just a kid.”
Someone brushed the hair away from Zira’s face. There was a sharp intake of breath, a clicking of the tongue. “She needs to go to the hospital. She’s in shock, and I can’t treat a gunshot wound here.”
“If you take her to the hospital, they’ll put her in the system and the Project will know she’s there. They’ll come for her and find us.”
“Maybe not. Doctor Gregor still owes me. Come on. Get her in the car. I’ll take care of it.”
“I have to ask you for another favor. We can’t stay at the lodge anymore. We’re blowing the place up to throw them off track, but I was hoping we could stay here for a week or two. Just until we can find something else.”
“Of course. Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back as soon as I can with an update.”
Tripp slid Zira into the back seat of a car and covered her with the quilt. Her eyes flickered open for a moment, and she saw concern etched in the creases around his hazel eyes.
Then everything was strangled in darkness.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vibrant light from an overhead bulb stung Zira’s eyes the next time she tried to open them. She squinted against its brilliance and shaded her face with one hand. There was something attached to the hand—an IV line. Her eyes followed it to a stand beside her where a bag of clear fluid hung and dripped steadily. She closed her eyes, trying to recall how she got here and why she might need an IV.
The last thing she remembered with clarity was getting shot. Everything after that was a blur. She pushed herself up onto her elbows to get a better look at her surroundings. The room she found herself in was small and home-like, with thick, tan carpet and white walls. A man—Tripp, she remembered—sat in a chair near the closed door. “Welcome back,” he said. He shifted the pistol on his knee. Her pistol.
Seeing him there reminded her of her failed assignment. A weight pressed against her chest. I have to get out of here. The sooner, the better. The radicals were unlikely to let her leave willingly, but she might be able to overpower Tripp and take his gun. She could even use him as a hostage to secure transportation back to the compound. First, though, she needed to assess the damage to her leg. She tugged at the covers of her bed.
“Wait,” Tripp said. “Just a second. We should talk about—”
Zira ignored him. With her good leg, she kicked the blankets aside. It was only then that she noticed something was terribly wrong. At first, she couldn’t even accept what she was seeing. She blinked. No matter how much she willed it to go away, the image before her persisted.
Tripp came to her bedside. He started talking, but Zira couldn’t hear what he was saying. A nauseating lump formed in her throat as she stared at the empty space below her knee where the rest of her right leg should have been. Instead, a bandaged stump lay lifeless on a pillow.
A scream burst loud and distraught from her chest. The door across from her flew open and slammed against the wall. Acting on instinct, Zira vaulted out of bed at the noise. She teetered on one leg, then crashed to the floor. Tripp and the old woman who had come into the room hurried to help her.
“Get away from me!” She attempted to stand on her own.
The woman took a step back while Tripp continued trying to lift Zira off the floor. She shoved him away. “You need to lie down,” said the woman. Zira recognized her voice from before—the doctor they’d called Mei.
“What happened to my leg?”
“Calm down. We can talk about it once you’re back in bed.”
Zira relented and let Tripp help her up. Her whole body shook. She grimaced, dismayed by how much she had to lean on him just to stand. Once she was back in bed, Mei examined the bandages on her leg. Zira studied her face as she worked. She looked to be about seventy, with salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a loose ponytail at the base of her head. Her small, dark eyes were set amidst countless lines and wrinkles.
“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” Mei chided, then put another pillow under Zira’s stump. Everything about her seemed gentle and caring, but given the circumstances, Zira wasn’t sure how much she could be trusted. “You must be hungry. I’ll get you something to eat.”
She left the room and Tripp scooted his chair closer to the bed. He set the gun on a dresser just behind him and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry about your leg,” he said. His voice was soft and genuine.
“What happened?” Zira asked. She had to understand; none of this made sense.
“Nate shot you. You remember that?”
“And then you brought me here because Mei’s a doctor.”
“Right. But there wasn’t anything she could do for you here. She had to take you to the hospital, but she couldn’t just leave you there and let them treat you. You would have been registered in their network and the Project would have found you, and then they would have found us. We couldn’t allow that; you understand?”
Zira refused to affirm the statement and kept her face flat and cold.
Tripp sighed. “Anyway, Mei used to work at the hospital, so she knows people there. One of the doctors has a third child—a daughter. He somehow managed to keep the girl hidden from the Project, so no one knows about her. Five years ago, Mei did this surgery that saved her life, totally off the books. When she brought you in, she asked Dr. Gregor to return the favor.”
“So why amputate my leg?”
“I’m not a doctor, so I’m not sure about all the details. But, the way I understand it, there were just too many complications. First of all, the wound was pretty bad. The bullet shattered your bone. Grayridge is a small town, so the hospital isn’t very big and they don’t have all the resources you might find somewhere else. To keep things secret, they couldn’t bring anyone else into the operation—not even bots. It was just Mei and Dr. Gregor, and neither of them specialize in orthopedi
cs. They did the best they could with what they had.”
Hearing Tripp talk about what had happened somehow made it more real, and Zira felt her emotions rise as she realized that the leg was really, truly gone. She remembered the informant she’d met just two weeks ago, the way he limped and the awkward bend of his arm. He’d probably been an operative like her, once. Whatever injury he’d suffered had effectively ended his career. Now, Zira saw herself facing a similar, if not worse, fate. She was broken, and the Project had neither the time nor resources to waste on broken things. Her life as an E-2 operative was over.
Her eyes stung as she struggled to hold back tears. “What now?” She was asking herself as much as him. Her entire world had shattered overnight, and she had no idea what came next.
“We can’t let you leave. You understand that, right?”
Zira nodded. She didn’t like it, but she understood. They were enemies, and she was a prisoner. She knew she should be grateful that Tripp had stepped in before Nate blew her brains out, but she was having a hard time feeling grateful about anything right now.
“We’re going to try to be out of here by the end of next week,” said Tripp. “Once we’re gone, you won’t be a threat to us anymore and you’ll be free to go. We’re still trying to convince Mei that it’s safer if she comes with us, but she’s stubborn, and she’s lived here for years. She says you can stay as long as you like, provided you don’t try to contact the Project. She can help you learn to walk again. They implanted an attachment for a prosthesis when they were doing the surgery, and she thinks she can get a leg that fits in week or two.”
Learn to walk again. Zira felt a pang in her chest as she thought of all the things she would have to learn to do again. Walking was the least of them. Hot, turbid desperation filled her. She was lying in a bed in some unfamiliar place, too broken and crippled to stand on her own. She longed for Jared and Aubreigh to be here now, to hear their voices reassuring her that everything would be all right. But that was stupid and naïve, because nothing was all right, and she couldn’t see how anything would ever be all right again. Her leg was gone, and no prosthesis would ever be able to replace it.
She was horribly aware of how pitiful she must look to Tripp as she pulled the covers over her head and cried, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The sobs shook her body, but she stifled the noises as best as she could and told herself he couldn’t hear her. It was the only shred of dignity she still had.
* * *
Mei shook Zira awake and set a bowl of hot broth and crackers on a tray in front of her. She also gave her some pills. “For your pain.”
Zira took them. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping, but Tripp was still sitting in his chair wearing the same clothes as before. It was impossible to determine the passage of time in this room. There were no windows and no clock, and her CyberLink had presumably been blown up in the explosion of the cabin.
“How are you feeling?” Mei asked.
“Okay,” Zira said. Physically, that was true. The pain was to be expected and manageable so far, so she wasn’t too concerned about that. Mentally and emotionally, she still felt defeated, but dwelling on it wouldn’t help anything. She’d allowed herself to succumb to a moment of weakness and had a good, long cry. Now it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and focus on getting her life back.
Mei nodded. “I’ll be back to change your bandages later.”
Zira sipped her broth and nibbled on some crackers. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but refusing food didn’t seem to be a great way to regain her strength. She looked over at Tripp. He smiled at her, an odd, crooked sort of grin that gave his face a child-like appearance even though he must have been at least thirty. It wasn’t a mocking smile or even a pitying one, but friendly, like he had a funny story he just couldn’t wait to share with her.
“Why didn’t you let Nate kill me?” Zira asked. The question had been bothering her ever since he’d stepped in to save her. That she was “just a kid” could hardly excuse the fact that she had tried to kill him and his friends, and eliminating her would have made things a lot easier for all of them.
Tripp shrugged. “You’re a kid. You didn’t really know what you were doing.”
“I’m eighteen.”
He grinned. “See, that’s exactly the sort of response you’d expect from a kid, like an extra year here or there makes such a big difference.”
“That’s not why you saved my life.”
“Call it nostalgia, then. I have a bit of a soft spot for E-2 operatives.” He leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “See, I used to be a member of the PEACE Project. My best friend was an E-2, like you. You probably know him. Ryku. Goes by the title of ‘chairman’ these days.”
Zira choked on a spoonful of broth and stared at him. She wasn’t even sure where to begin. “So, what, you just left the Project?” It was treason, a crime so taboo that those even suspected of harboring anti-Project sentiment were executed without contest.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.”
“Why?”
“There were too many secrets. Too many lies. I got sick of looking the other way.”
Zira’s first instinct was to jump to the Project’s defense. She opened her mouth to tell Tripp he was wrong, the Project never lied, and any secrets they might have were kept solely to protect the peace. Then she remembered Aubreigh, crying under Zira’s arm because she’d just found out the awful truth about fourth children. She remembered the contempt in Seth’s eyes as he accused her of thinking she was above the law. Unit E-2 was built on a framework of secrets and lies, and it seemed the other units had skeletons of their own to bury. All of it was justified, of course, but Tripp would never see it that way. She changed the subject. “And Ryku?”
“You could say we had a falling out. He’s been trying to kill me ever since I left.” Tripp’s voice was as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
Of course Ryku was trying to kill him. Tripp was a traitor and a fugitive, and now he was working with radicals. Radicals who had weapons and had been in contact with a larger, better-armed group. Perhaps they’d been planning something—some kind of joint attack or rebellion. She needed to find out more. They couldn’t keep her here forever, and when she got back to the Project, she intended to tell Ryku every scrap of information she could about these people and their plans.
“What unit were you in?”
“A. The Project recruited me in my first year of college.”
“And how long have you been out here?”
“Almost fifteen years.”
Zira nodded and stared at her soup in an effort to hide her surprise. Ryku was one of the most connected and well-informed men on the planet. The fact that Tripp had managed to evade him for so long was impressive.
As if guessing her thoughts, Tripp shrugged. “I’m careful.”
“It doesn’t seem very careful to let me live.”
He laughed. “You’re not making a very good case for yourself, kid.”
“I just don’t get it. If you’ve been so careful and avoided Ryku for so long, why would you throw it all away on me? You were in unit A, so you must be smart. You have to know I’ll go back and tell Ryku all about this the second I can get out of here. Maybe I’ll even kill you all in your sleep.”
Tripp seemed more amused by the threat than afraid. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. I know you see us as enemies, but I don’t think it’s that black and white. Maybe all of this will teach you something, open your eyes to the real world. Maybe you’ll go back to the Project and remember that I saved your life, so you won’t tell Ryku I was here. Even if you do, it won’t matter. I’m very good at disappearing.”
Zira glared at him as she finished her food. Open her eyes to the real world—he was the blind one. Not just blind, but stupid. He’d had a nice, comfortable life in the Project and he’d thrown it away. It didn’t matter how good he
was at disappearing; Ryku would find him eventually and he’d be executed for treason, just as he deserved.
Mei came in just then to change her bandages. Tripp helped. It was the first time Zira had seen the leg uncovered before, so she watched intently as Mei unwrapped the stump. It was an ugly sight. The skin had been cut and rearranged to fit around a rod that protruded from the end, leaving a patchwork of crisscrossing stitches. She grimaced.
“Does it hurt?” Tripp asked.
“I’m okay.” It did hurt, but the pain had subsided a little thanks to the pills Mei had given her earlier. It wasn’t unbearable.
“It will look better once the stitches are removed,” said Mei. “There should be very little scarring.”
“What about infection?” Zira asked. “Won’t germs be able to get in where the rod comes out?”
“As long as the incision heals properly, there is minimal risk of infection. The implant is made of a porous metal, so the surrounding skin and tissue is able to grow into it and create a barrier. Think of it like the antlers on a deer. It works in a similar way.”
“When can I start walking again?”
“As soon as the prosthesis I found arrives here. Probably in a week or two. Normally, they’re custom made, but that’s impossible under the circumstances. I managed to track down an old one from someone who’s outgrown it. It won’t be a perfect fit, but you’ll have to make do. I’m sure the Project can provide you with something more suitable when you go back.”
“Will I be able to do everything I used to?”
Mei met Zira’s gaze with a sharp look. “You mean run around in the middle of the night and shoot people?”
“Yes,” Zira said, her voice cool and even.
Mei clicked her tongue and shook her head. “It’s going to take some time. At least a couple months for rehabilitation. Longer, if you want full functionality again. But you’re healthy and active. I think you can make a full recovery.” The time-line was no worse than Zira had expected, and she was glad to hear that she had a chance of regaining her former mobility.
Secrets of PEACE Page 11