“Humane?” Greyson rounded on her. “There’s nothing ‘humane’ about it! Did you learn how to use those?”
Logan glared at him. “I did what I had to do. I’m not proud of it. It’s not like I enjoyed torturing people.”
He looked taken aback.
“And anyway,” said Logan. “They should never have used that many on you. They could have killed you.” She sat down next to me. “Did they use the fire ones again?”
I shook my head. “It was like I was drowning.”
“Waterboarding.”
“Why did he do it? I don’t understand.”
“You challenged him openly,” said Logan in a quiet voice. “He’s weak. Everybody says so behind his back. It’s just that no one’s ever stood up to him.”
“He tortured me because I talked back to him?”
“He has to keep order somehow.”
I turned to look at her. “We can’t stay here.”
“One step ahead of you. Our bags are already packed.”
I glanced over to the corner of the tent, where our rucksacks stood ready to go.
“I grabbed some extra clothes and stuff for you, too,” she said to Greyson. “Plus everything from your tent.”
I felt a pang of sorrow when I remembered what few items Greyson had left in this world to call his own. Just the picture of his family and the knife I had brought with me from his apartment after his arrest.
“Where should we go?” I asked.
Logan threw a shifty glance over to her sleeping bag. Looking closer, I could see a map smoothed out over it.
“I stole those while Rulon was busy torturing you,” she confessed. “It’s the only way we’re going to get into Sector X. All their routes are marked. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, but it’s better than nothing.”
Amory. I let out a long breath I’d been holding since Rulon’s tent. “Let’s go.”
Bundled up in all the warm clothes we had, the three of us slipped out the back of the tent. We hugged the line of trees and moved in the shadows to avoid attracting attention. After the commotion at dinner, the last stragglers were returning to their tents, talking in low whispers.
“. . . never thought she was PMC, but I guess it just goes to show . . .”
“You can’t trust a defector. I know it sounds bad, but they’re just not like us.”
I felt my face grow hot with anger and embarrassment. I hated that Rulon had made such a scene.
“Hey!” Greyson hissed, swatting behind him. “Wha —”
Logan clapped a hand to his mouth, and I saw the glint of his knife in her hand. For a minute, I thought she had gone off the deep end, but then she crunched through the snow toward the weapons tent and slipped in through the back flap.
I exchanged a look with Greyson, who had gone bright red.
“What? She just frisked that off me!”
We waited in the shadows, my heart pounding in my throat. Any second now, Rulon could return to the tent to find me gone. It would be impossible to get out of here once the camp was on alert. I was just about to go after Logan when she emerged carrying a serious-looking gun. Two more were strapped to her shoulders, and she also had a bag full of ammunition dangling from her arm.
“They had HK416s and FN SCARs,” she whispered. “I haven’t seen one of these since my dad’s.” Logan ran her hand down the side. “He’s ex-military.”
Greyson eyed her warily. “You’re a little scary, you know.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved one of the rifles into his hands. “Just for that, you don’t get the other SCAR.”
I took the rifle she handed me with numb hands. I never really knew what to do with a firearm.
“We need to get out of here now,” she said.
“So why did you take my knife?”
Logan looked guilty. “I may have used it to threaten the poor kid who was guarding the tent.”
Greyson snorted. “A tent full of assault rifles, and you hold up a guy with a dull knife.”
Making our way down the hill toward the edge of camp, Logan led us deeper into the trees. We still had to get past the lookout who was stationed at the foot of the hill. Peering through the trees, Greyson stopped and pointed.
If I hadn’t been looking for him, he would have been impossible to see. The lookout was perched in a tree, dressed in dark camouflage. With no fire and no protection from the wind, he must have been freezing.
Suddenly, I heard the crunch of heavy boots through the snow and a low whistle. I squinted through the darkness back toward camp. There was a figure ambling down the hill with a gun slung over his shoulder. The scraggly beard and slight limp told me it was Godfrey.
“Hey, Kinsley,” he called. “Go ahead and pack it in. I’ll take over for the rest of the night.”
The lookout in the tree mumbled something in acknowledgment. “I thought Sanders was on this shift.”
Godfrey shrugged. “Bad chili. He’ll have the shits for a week.”
Kinsley gave a low whistle and began his descent from the tree. “Thanks. It’s freezing up there.”
Godfrey nodded and watched him go.
“What now?” I hissed. “He knows.”
Greyson raised his rifle, training it on Godfrey, but I pushed it down and stepped in front of him, forcing him to make eye contact.
“What are you doing?”
“He’s gotta go.”
“No!” I couldn’t believe Greyson was about to shoot someone. “You don’t want to do this. This isn’t you.”
“He tortured you, Haven.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t kill him anyway. We’d wake up the whole camp.”
“She’s right,” said Logan.
“You can come out now.” The voice made me jump out of my skin.
I wheeled around, and Godfrey was standing in the shadows under the tree just a few yards away.
Greyson and Logan snapped up their guns, aiming them at his chest.
“You let us tie you to a tree so we can escape, or I’ll put a bullet in your brain,” Logan growled in a low, deadly voice.
“Fine,” said Godfrey. He raised his hands in surrender. “Just thought I might be of help.”
I exchanged a glance with Greyson, but Logan wasn’t having it.
“I’m done letting rebels torture my friends.”
Even with two guns on him, Godfrey looked relaxed. “It had to be done,” he said. “How else were you going to steal Rulon’s maps?”
Logan blinked — something I’d never seen her do when she had her gun trained on a target.
“I had to throw the heat on her so you could get in there.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I said. It all made sense now. “He lied to Rulon and told him I was training you in combat.”
Godfrey frowned. “You really need to tone it down,” he said to Logan.
She looked confused.
“You don’t hide the PMC thing well. I saw you coming a mile away. It’s dangerous.”
Logan lowered her rifle.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” he said. “They probably already know you’re gone.”
“You first,” said Greyson.
Following Godfrey through the woods back in the direction of Sector X, Logan and I kept exchanging nervous looks. It was possible he was leading us into a trap, but we didn’t really have another choice. We had the maps but no definitive plan for getting through the PMC checkpoint. And if Godfrey was lying, we couldn’t leave him alive or kill him without bringing all the rebels down on us.
“So how do we get into Sector X?” I asked finally.
Godfrey smirked. “Are you telling me you three didn’t have a plan? Not even a bad one?”
I felt a sting of irritation. “I was a little busy.”
He shook his head. “I figured as much. Well, your friend is being kept at Isador as a PMC guinea pig. The only way you’re getting in there is if you have someone who is re
al PMC. Those fake CIDs aren’t going to cut it. You need security clearance.”
“What are you saying?” snapped Logan.
Godfrey turned around, eyebrow raised, waiting for us to figure it out.
“You’re the mole,” I whispered. “You’re helping the rebels get into Sector X to steal food and supplies.”
“Among other things, but yes. That’s the general idea.”
“What other things?” pressed Logan.
“Weapons, ammunition, first aid supplies . . . toilet paper.”
“Explosives?”
“That’s my specialty.”
“That’s why you weren’t in the riots at all that day,” I said. “You stayed out of the city so you wouldn’t blow your cover.”
He nodded. “The fewer people on our side who know, the better.”
“Did Mariah know?” I asked. I thought back to when Greyson had left us outside Sector X that day.
“Yes, she did. Everything Rulon knew, Mariah knew. In fact, toward the end, it was hard to tell who was really calling the shots.” His tone was even, but I could detect the undercurrents of resentment in his voice.
“She’s out there,” I said.
“That is a big risk for us, but since she’s infected, going to the PMC would be mutually assured destruction.”
“What if she’s caught?”
“She won’t be. Mariah always had a knack for . . . self-preservation.”
“I don’t understand why you’re helping us,” said Greyson. His voice was still harsh, distrustful. “They’re going to notice you’re gone. Don’t you think they will figure out you helped us escape?”
“I was ready to leave. Rulon’s camp has outlived its usefulness to me, and, truth be told, I’m sick of their methods.” His dark eyes flitted to me. “You want me to blow up a building full of PMC officials? Fine. But Rulon and Mariah always had this way of preying on the weak. The kids they can’t scare into following them into the fire, well . . . you know.”
“So what, you’re a free agent now?” asked Logan.
“I suppose I am. I’ll go where I can put my skills to use. Right now, that is not with Rulon’s division. He’s floundering, and when Haven told him off tonight, I knew it was time to move on.”
“What will they do for food now that you’re gone?”
“They have everything they need.”
We walked in silence for a long while, and Greyson finally lowered his gun. We still had a couple miles before we would reach Sector X, but we were far enough away from camp that he seemed convinced we were not headed into an ambush.
Godfrey still had his gun slung over his shoulder, and he had not made a move to reach for it. He also carried a large rucksack, which made me think he had really packed up his belongings and left the camp for good. Like the three of us, all the rebels seemed to be able to carry everything they owned on their back.
He was dressed for the weather in a bulky black coat with what seemed like infinite pockets, a stocking cap, and enormous combat boots. With the snow sticking to his bushy black beard, he looked rugged and oddly more cheerful.
Logan, Greyson, and I had decent boots, but we were only dressed in layers under our thin jackets. We had been issued hats and gloves from the supply tent, but heavy winter coats were coveted items in the rebel camp.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Godfrey stopped and turned to the three of us.
“You three need to prepare yourselves for what we’re about to do and what we might find. People who go into Isador don’t come out normal. Most people never come out at all. You need to accept right now that your friend Amory might not be himself anymore.”
I nodded, but I felt sick. I couldn’t stand thinking about what the PMC might have done to him.
“I need to know,” he said. “How far are you willing to go for him? Are you willing to do what needs to be done?”
I shuddered, nodding once.
Greyson pulled his shoulders back and straightened beside me. “I am.”
“Me too,” said Logan. Of the three of us, she looked the most excited for what was about to come.
Godfrey shook his head. “You need to really consider this. If we get in there and he’s too far gone, we have to leave him. We can put him down if it’s the best thing for him, but we can’t bring out someone who’s a liability. Understand?”
Greyson and Logan were looking at me. I bit down on my lip to keep the tears from coming.
“Haven,” said Greyson. “It’s what he would want. It’s what any of us would want.”
I took a deep breath and nodded.
“All right.” Godfrey clapped his hands and reached in his pack. Logan’s hand twitched to her gun, but he pulled out something white and folded. “Put these on.”
He tossed me the white bundle of fabric, and I caught it as he pulled out a few others.
I let the stiff folds of the material fall open in my fingers and gasped when I saw the insignia: the image of one all-seeing eye flanked by three stars inside an embroidered circle. Order. Compliance. Progress.
We were dressing as PMC.
CHAPTER THREE
The PMC uniform was stiff and unfriendly. Even when I tucked the starched pant legs into my combat boots, they were still too big for me. The jacket was boxy and too light for the winter, meant to be worn under full riot gear and a bulletproof vest.
I gasped a little when we all turned to face each other after changing. Greyson looked imposing in a way I never would have believed possible. Clean-shaven with short hair, he would easily pass as a real officer, and his dark eyes were unforgiving,
Logan looked ordinary. Her usual radiance was muted by the stiff white polyester, and her bouncy golden waves were pulled back into a French twist. Only her bright green eyes stood out against the stark whiteness of the uniform, but they seemed less vibrant, too.
Seeing her hair pulled up, I struggled to twist mine into a bun. It was too short in the front and slipped through my fingers, but Logan appeared at my shoulder.
“Let me,” she said. She worked quickly, and within a minute she had my hair wound into a tight knot at the back of my head.
Next she moved to Greyson, reaching up to fasten the last hook at the neck of his jacket. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves with a uniform that’s not regulation,” she muttered.
“You’ll be needing these,” said Godfrey. He held up three plastic wristbands with the stolen CIDs. Out of everyone, Godfrey looked the least at home in his uniform. Maybe it was the bushy black beard or his ruddy complexion, but either way, he seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.
Logan cleared her throat. “What about your beard?” she asked.
He grunted. “I’m not active duty. It’s fine.”
I fastened the band around my wrist, examining the gold ridge around the edge of the white chip. The CID was so small and so benign looking, yet it controlled so much in our world.
Godfrey clapped his hands together. “All right. Let’s get a move on.”
Storming through the underbrush in his wake, I began to wonder if he planned to walk right into Sector X on foot. He was talking fast now. I knew we had to be getting close. “You three are Fuller, Hellmack, and Woeden. Remember your names. Always make eye contact, but don’t speak unless spoken to. Your pins will be your home sectors: 573 and 314.”
I examined the name etched into the plastic wristband: Rebecca Fuller.
“You’re new recruits, so your fingerprints and retinal scans won’t be in the system yet. We will have to do that when we get into the facility. Don’t do anything stupid. These aren’t burner CIDs like the last ones. You have no idea what I had to do to get security clearance for a bunch of interns. And for god’s sake, don’t let anyone see that scar on your arm,” he said to me.
Through the trees, something white caught my eye. As we approached, I could see it was a light utility vehicle like the ones the PMC used. We got inside, and Logan sat in the back wi
th Greyson. Of all of us, she posed the greatest risk of being recognized.
“Won’t it look suspicious for us to enter the city in the middle of the night?” I asked.
“No. The beta unit rarely does its business in the daylight.”
The engine roared to life, and we barreled forward through the underbrush. It was a rough ride, but I began to feel a slight twinge of hope that I might see Amory soon. I tried not to think about how they must be treating him or what shape he could be in; it only mattered that we got him out.
“Your CIDs are set to go live when we’re half a mile out,” said Godfrey. “They’re staggered because it’s a little suspicious if three people come online all at once, but all the tree cover makes signals pretty shitty out here.”
We stopped, and Godfrey squinted through the trees. Seeing nothing, he barreled onto a dirt road. Behind us was a locked gate, but I couldn’t see where the road went.
“PMC storage facility,” he explained. “We’re getting close. Put on that riot gear in the back. Every officer in the city is wearing a set these days.”
Logan reached behind the back seat and pulled up a bulletproof vest and a helmet. She passed one to me, and I fastened it over my chest. It was stiff and heavy. I didn’t know how officers were supposed to run when they were wearing one. The helmet was white like everything else, but it had a black strip running down the middle. I put it on, feeling ridiculous but slightly relieved that it would hide part of my face.
“Here we go,” he said.
Glancing behind me, I saw that Greyson’s mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes cold and empty. Logan looked nervous, but sitting there in her white uniform, I could see her inner fierceness beneath the surface that made her who she was.
We pulled onto the main highway, where several other white vehicles were visible up ahead. I had the immediate urge to shrink down in my seat to avoid being seen, but then I remembered I was dressed as an officer.
Following the flow of traffic off an exit ramp, we slowed to a crawl in a convoy of other utility vehicles just like ours. We followed the one in front of us onto another major road, and I saw the bridge up ahead. I heard Logan’s involuntary intake of air, and I knew she was thinking about Max and Amory.
Enemy Inside (Defectors Trilogy) Page 3