The truck rolled on. Zira let out a long breath, put a hand over her smile, and tilted her head back. She was free.
* * *
Zira walked along an old highway under the midday sun, periodically glancing over her shoulder for approaching headlights. The supply truck had parked itself in a lot filled with other trucks a few hours before, and after fiddling with the inner control panel for an hour, she’d finally managed to let herself out. Local signs told her she was in a town called Montecito, west of the compound. She had a long way to go to make it to Missoula, the city in the North Central Region where Tripp was. She couldn’t rent a car, get on a bus, or take an automated taxi without her identification, which was stored on her CL and would have been restricted even if she hadn’t discarded it. She would walk the entire distance if she had to, but hoped that someone on the road might be willing to pick up a hitchhiker. It wasn’t the most advisable strategy for a young girl out alone in the world, but Zira was more than capable of taking care of herself if someone picked her up with ill intentions. One car had already passed her by, but that had been over an hour ago and she hadn’t seen anyone since. It might turn out to be a very long walk.
Her feet dragged on the pavement. The warmth of the sun in her hair was relaxing, and having not slept at all for something like thirty hours, she struggled to keep her eyes open. She didn’t want to stop yet; she was still so close to the compound, and depending on how soon Ryku discovered she was gone, assassins could be closing in on her already. She walked another mile before she heard the soft rush of tires in the distance.
She turned to face the approaching car and began to wave her arms in an attempt to flag it down. She could have just walked into the middle of the road the way she’d done with Hartman’s car in Grayridge; the safety features of any standard autopilot system wouldn’t allow the vehicle to hit a pedestrian. That was a rather threatening way to ask a favor from someone, though. Zira needed them to stop on their own, and she was relying on her youthful, innocent appearance to catch someone’s attention and convince them she wasn’t dangerous.
The car slowed and the window rolled down. A grizzly old man with a hat straight out of an old western film leaned out on his forearm. “Where you headed?”
“As far north as you can take me.”
He waved her over. “Hop in.”
Zira slid into the back seat, setting her backpack at her feet within easy reach. She still had the handgun in her jacket pocket and a knife in her boot, just in case. “Thanks,” she said as the car began moving again.
“What’s your name?” The man’s cowboy accent matched his hat.
“Zira.”
“Nice t’meet ya. I’m Bill.” He took a drink of water from the bottle in the center console and offered it to her. She shook her head. “Awful strange to see a girl walking the road on her own like that.” He gave her a prying sidelong glance.
“I don’t have a car.” She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket, making sure they covered her wrists to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a CL.
Bill grunted. “Me neither. This one’s just a rental. I’ve got to get to Wyoming for my mama’s funeral.”
“Wyoming?”
“Oh, right—sorry. I forget they don’t teach you kids that old geography no more. One of the fifty, you know. From before the war.”
It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about the fifty United States. “Oh.”
One side of his mustache lifted as he gave her an amused smile. “What’s up north for you?”
Zira rested her head against the car window and looked at her translucent reflection in the glass. “A new start.”
* * *
Bill let Zira out of the car in a rural town just past a city called Casper with a tip of his hat. He’d offered her a room in his mother’s old house, but she’d declined, saying she’d find a hotel in town. She slung her pack over her shoulders and kept walking. It was past midnight. The cold air was biting, and she was still exhausted. She had dozed off a couple of times on accident in Bill’s car but hadn’t dared fall asleep completely. A hotel room was out of the question since that also required ID she didn’t have, but maybe she could find an old building to take shelter in somewhere close by.
A few of the houses on this road had barns, but she could hear animals moving around inside and knew the houses would be occupied as well. She walked a few more miles and found a barn that was empty, and the land surrounding it looked like it hadn’t been cared for in decades. Zira had to break a window to get into the house. It was dank and dusty and still cold, but at least it offered some protection from the wind. An empty room upstairs had carpet floors that made a reasonably comfortable bed. She lay down with her backpack under her head, threw her jacket over herself, and fell asleep in seconds.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It was nearly midnight when Jared arrived back at the compound, and he could think of no reason why Chairman Ryku might be in the guardhouse talking to the gatekeeper at such a late hour. As soon as he saw Jared, he exited through a side door and fell into stride beside him.
“You’ve been waiting for me?” Jared said.
“Something urgent has come up. I wanted to make sure I was the first person to see you when you got back.”
Jared shifted his bag over his shoulder with a sigh. Being the chairman’s right-hand man had its perks, but it was also rather tiring. Whenever Ryku had a problem or a particularly difficult assignment, he went to Jared first. “What is it?”
“We’ll talk about it in my office.”
They said nothing more to each other as they walked, and Jared’s thoughts drifted to his argument with Zira. He had done everything he could to put it out of his mind while he was on his assignment, but now it was time to face the aftermath. He had said some cruel things—they both had—and although he was sorry to have hurt her feelings, he’d meant what he had said. Perhaps there was some truth in her words, too. Jared just didn’t understand what had happened to make her change so much. He needed to talk to her and try to sort it all out, but knowing Zira, that wouldn’t be easy, assuming she would even speak to him at all. He knew how much she hated opening up about her feelings, even to him.
Not now, though; he was too tired to fight that battle tonight. The conversation would have to wait until morning.
Ryku opened his office door and Jared followed him inside. The room was hot and stuffy, with an eerie, red glow emanating from a seldom-used fireplace in the corner. The flames were the only source of light in the room, casting dramatic, flickering shadows all around. Ryku didn’t bother to switch on the overhead lights. “Please, have a seat,” he said. “Would you like something to drink?”
Jared sat on the couch. Typical Ryku, to bother with such hospitable formalities when there were more pressing matters to discuss. “No, thanks.”
Ryku took up a place in front of his desk, leaning back against it with his hands on either side. “I have something important to tell you, but first I need your word that you won’t speak to anyone else about this. This is to remain between us.”
“I understand,” said Jared, his interest growing.
“Good. We have a problem in our unit—a former operative who has jeopardized the security of our work. Some recent experiences seem to have caused her to lose faith in this Project, and despite my best efforts to rehabilitate her, she remains unstable. She’s a threat, and now, she’s committed treason by deserting the Project.”
Jared’s palms became sweaty in the stifling red heat of the fireplace.
“I care about everyone in this unit like a father cares for his children, but I care about the Project most. I can’t let one of my own endanger the peace we’ve worked so hard to create and maintain. I’ve considered this long and hard, but there are no other options. This person must be eliminated.”
Jared’s stomach plummeted. He had to ask, just to be sure. “Who are you talking about?”
“You already
know the answer,” said Ryku. There wasn’t even a hint of sympathy in his voice. “And what does it matter? She’s a threat. If she were a stranger, this would play out the same way.”
Jared stared at the floor, forcing out her name. “Zira.”
“You must have noticed it too, how much she’s changed since coming back from Grayridge.”
“Yes,” he said, trying to figure out how Ryku had come to such an extreme conclusion. It didn’t make sense; he thought Zira had worked past this. And there was something else the chairman had said that didn’t make sense, either. “She deserted the Project? What do you mean?”
“She turned in a request asking me to make her an informant, but she disappeared before I could give her my answer.”
“She’s just scared, then. Let me talk to her.”
“This is more than just fear, Jared.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Look, I know she’s changed. But hasn’t she proven herself? She did everything you asked—all the training and the counseling and everything. You approved all of that. You gave her an assignment.”
“Yes, I did. An assignment which she failed to complete.”
“What?”
“She didn’t tell you.” He took a file from his desk and passed it to Jared. “She didn’t kill Randolph. Instead, she gave me a bunch of excuses for why he isn’t dead.”
Jared flipped through the report, barely registering what he was reading. It was all there, just like Ryku had said, and all written in Zira’s hand. “Maybe she was just being careful,” he said.
“It was a very basic assignment. All she had to do was shoot Randolph and get out. She could have killed him openly in the street for all I cared. But she didn’t. She wasn’t even there a full day before she decided to let him live. It wasn’t a mistake—it was blatant disobedience.”
“And she deserves to die, because of that?”
“It’s not just that. It’s her refusal to accept what happened in Grayridge, the fact that she’s picking fights with people in her own unit.”
“That happened one time,” Jared said. “And Cecilia started it.”
“She’s unstable—a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. We can’t afford any weak links. Every moment she’s out there puts the rest of in danger. You have to eliminate her.”
Jared’s heart thundered in his chest. How could Ryku expect him to do this? Why was he even asking him? He looked up at the chairman and spoke in the most sincere and pleading voice he could. “Please, Chairman, please don’t do this. I know it’s not my place to question you, but Zira is—”
What?
Misguided? Certainly. A threat? Possibly. He didn’t want to believe it, but after the things she’d said following her fight with Cecilia and Lucas, Jared had to consider the option. He saw the way Ryku’s eyes flickered at his hesitation and hurried to correct himself. “Please, Ryku, I can bring her back if you’ll just give her another chance. She needs more time. I’ll work with her myself, make her see things the way she used to. Please.”
Ryku frowned and looked down at Jared. “The decision has already been made. She’s completely fallen apart, and there’s no telling what she might do out there. She knows too much. I can’t allow her to stir up trouble. How can we expect to protect the peace of this entire country if we can’t even keep our own people in line?”
Jared knew the chairman was right. Still, he looked down and shook his head. “I can’t.”
“This is not a choice, Jared,” Ryku said, his voice rising in a sharp command. “It’s an order, just like every other assignment you’ve ever had. Failure is not an option. Refusal is not an option. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of your duty.”
Jared clenched his jaw. Why was this happening to him? He silently cursed Zira for her skewed perceptions, then cursed himself for not doing more to help her. He should have seen this coming. Maybe he could have changed her. No—that would have been impossible. Zira was too strong-willed for that. But at least he could have warned her. Now it was too late.
“Will you do it?” Ryku hissed. “Because if you won’t, I’ll find someone else, and you can consider yourself just as much a traitor as she is.”
It seemed that walls had risen up all around Jared. There was no way out, no way he could change the chairman’s mind or refuse this assignment—not unless he wanted to condemn himself to death. He answered reluctantly, feeling detached from his own words. “I’ll do it.”
Ryku sounded pleased. “Good.” He pulled up a projection on his CyberLink—a map with a blinking, red dot in the center. “She took off her CL before she left, but I had unit A put a tracking chip in her new prosthetic leg.” It was a dirty trick, but Jared supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by anything the chairman did anymore. “She’s headed north. I’ll send you the signal for her tracker. Find her. Once you see an opportunity—”
“I know,” Jared growled. “I’ll get it done.”
Ryku nodded. “I know this won’t be easy, but you’re doing the right thing. Your dedication and service to this unit is appreciated. I have complete confidence in you.”
Jared stood and turned sharply on his heel. It took a tremendous amount of self-control to refrain from slamming the door on his way out.
The cold air outside did nothing to cool his emotions. When he reached his apartment, he let out a yell like an enraged animal and grabbed the first thing he saw, flinging it against the wall. The lamp shattered with a satisfying clatter.
Jared sat on the bed and projected all the photos he had on his CL of himself and Zira before she’d gone to Grayridge. They’d been so happy and carefree. Things had been less than perfect since her return, but still, they’d been happy. This thing Ryku had ordered him to do seemed impossibly cruel. He’d told the chairman he would do it, but he wasn’t sure he had meant it. Even if he wanted to, he didn’t know if he could. This was the girl he loved.
But what other choice did he have? He could try to warn her, but what good would that do? She’d spend the rest of her life being hunted by E-2 assassins like some animal. If he chose to simply ignore Ryku’s orders, he’d become a target just like her, and Ryku would find someone else to do the job. Any number of operatives would be willing to accept the task if it meant getting into his good graces.
All of that was irrelevant. He was wasting his time weighing meaningless options to avoid the heart of the problem. The truth was that Ryku was right. Zira had become unpredictable. Everything she had once believed in was crumbling away bit by bit, replaced by doubt and unreasonable idealism. Such mistrust was dangerous in an organization that relied on unwavering obedience from its members. Her failure to kill Randolph meant that she obviously wasn’t cut out to be an operative anymore. Even if she became an informant, her shifting beliefs could be dangerous to others in the unit; she might not remain objective in the information she chose to provide about a target, and that could get operatives killed under the wrong circumstances. The fact that she had run meant that she’d given up on the PEACE Project altogether, and there was no coming back from that.
This wasn’t about love or friendship or whatever other ties he might have to Zira. He had always put his duty to the Project first, and that was exactly what he needed to do here. If this had been anyone else, Jared wouldn’t have hesitated or questioned Ryku’s orders at all. He simply would have done what was expected of him, because he trusted that Ryku was doing what was best for the entire unit—for the entire country. He still trusted that. He didn’t like the decision the chairman had made, but he trusted that it was a sound one. When he looked at it from that angle, the answer became clear.
Zira was a threat, and that made her an acceptable target.
He threw himself back on his bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Even when Zira had been pronounced dead, he hadn’t shed a tear; he’d been too angry and shocked to cry then. He was angry now, too—more so, in fact—but the anger was numbed by sel
f-loathing and regret. It was enough to melt away every barrier he’d built around his heart. Jared drew in a hitched breath, put a hand over his face, and wept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Zira woke up refreshed and alert late the following morning. She smiled as she looked out the window. She had done the impossible. She was over five hundred miles from the Project, and she was alive and free.
In order to stay that way, she needed to figure out how to cover the remaining half of her journey. She could steal a car, but that just seemed like a good way to attract bad attention. Hitchhiking seemed the safest bet, but this was a sparsely populated region and it might be difficult to find a ride. She’d end up covering a lot of the distance on foot, and for that, she needed warmer clothes. She found some old coats hanging in one of the closets in another room and picked the heaviest. She also needed food, but that problem was solved when she explored the kitchen pantry and found a few dozen cans of vegetables the previous occupants had left behind. An old pre-war map was buried under a stack of papers in another drawer. She traced a path to Missoula with her finger and stuck the map in her back pocket.
She decided to spend another night in the house before resuming her journey. It seemed like a safe place to rest, and she didn’t know when she’d be able to find shelter again. She ate a can of beans for supper and put the rest of the food in her backpack with her gun and ammunition, then slept.
It was still dark outside when Zira woke up, but she no longer felt tired. She picked up her pack and walked outside, then consulted her map to figure out how to get back to the highway. She heard the soft, muffled crunch of footsteps on the snow somewhere to her right. Whoever or whatever approached was moving slowly. Zira turned but couldn’t see anything, and the noise stopped. It was probably just some animal; she’d seen deer tracks near the house earlier. She put the map back in her pocket and started walking. She hadn’t gone more than a few steps when she heard the noise again, faster this time—and close.
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