We entered the main exit ramp, and I grasped his sweaty hand. It was now or never. It had to stop.
Godfrey seemed to be thinking the same thing. He floored it. We’d only made it halfway to the exit when a horrible screeching alarm sounded. An urgent feminine voice echoed through the tunnel.
Intruder. Intruder. Intruder.
I could see the sliding glass door up ahead. Amory was flailing next to me on the seat. I looked at Greyson in horror.
At the speed we were approaching, the door should have opened by now. Godfrey wasn’t slowing down.
As we crashed through the door, the shattering of glass drowned out the screech of the alarm, but it wasn’t enough to cover Amory’s horrible scream.
I looked down at him. He had gone limp against the door. He was unconscious.
For several seconds, all I could hear was the purr of the engine and the heavy breathing of Logan and Greyson. They sat bolt upright, frozen in shock.
“Well, they know we’re here now,” Godfrey mumbled.
I checked Amory again, confusion and fear welling up inside me. He wasn’t moving.
“Is he —” Greyson asked, unable to finish.
I shook my head, tears clouding my vision. But truthfully, I did not know.
Terrified, I bent my head to his face, listening for the sound of his breathing.
Without warning, he gasped in sharply. His eyes flew open, and his hand went to his chest. My heart stuttered, and I held on to him as he took several labored breaths. He lay there for a moment, shell-shocked.
Logan let out a quiet sob, putting her hand over her mouth.
Godfrey sighed audibly.
Amory turned his head, eyes focusing on me.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
He breathed out slowly. “I am now, I think.”
I sighed, gripping his hand tightly. He managed a weak squeeze in return.
“Holy shit,” said Greyson. “What the hell happened to you in there?”
I shot him a look. He hadn’t seen what was on that screen. He didn’t know what the PMC had been using to brainwash him.
But Amory’s sharp eyes flickered, uncharacteristically uncertain. “I . . . I don’t really remember,” he faltered. “I remember . . . the simulations. Carriers . . .”
I exchanged a look with Greyson.
“How long was I there for?”
“Three weeks,” I said.
“Oh, wow.” He shook his head. “The bridge, my dad . . . They took me to another place. It was a hospital. That’s the last thing I remember before . . . wherever I was.”
“His CID,” I said, grabbing his arm.
“Fucking hell,” said Godfrey.
I turned Amory’s arm over, searching for another incision near his old, jagged scar.
“They wouldn’t insert it there again,” said Godfrey. He was watching me in the rearview mirror. “Not after he cut out the last one. I don’t know if we’ll be able to extract the new one. They’re much more . . . sophisticated.”
“What about the rovers?” I asked.
“Doing my best to avoid them.”
I looked around. Sure enough, we were driving down a dark side street. Before we reached the intersection, Godfrey made a sharp turn down and alley and pulled out onto another street.
“If any of those gets a reading on him, there’s a chance they could activate whatever that was again.”
“Is that new?” Greyson asked. “Or can all the CIDs do that?”
Godfrey shook his head. “I’ve known for a while that they were experimenting with behavior control, but if they’re still testing it on Amory, that means they’re working out the bugs. If they were near the final stages of development, there would be a hundred test subjects walking around with those things.”
“They were controlling me?” Amory asked. His face had gone ashen.
I met his gaze, uncertain what to say. I didn’t want to voice aloud my concern that he had been brainwashed. But if he didn’t remember anything, maybe none of the PMC’s experiments worked.
“We don’t know for sure,” I said.
“How are we going to get his CID out?” Greyson asked. “He can’t be walking around with that thing.”
“Stay out of range until we get out of the city,” said Godfrey. “We’ll have to see if anyone on the outside knows how to remove those.”
“Where are we going?” asked Logan.
Godfrey didn’t answer. Looking up ahead, I could see why.
At the end of the road was a PMC blockade. Lights flashed all around, illuminating the ruined buildings and casting dark shadows over the wreckage.
“This is your stop, kid,” said Godfrey.
“How are you going to get out?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about us. You’re going to have your work cut out for you. If you make it through the tunnel, rendezvous past the bridge where you came ashore after the riots. If not, go to the safe house.”
I nodded.
Godfrey looked serious. “Don’t forget: three days. If we’re not back by then . . .”
I glanced at Logan, who was biting her lip.
He waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll be back. Just keep him away from the rovers,” he said, nodding at Amory.
I smiled. “Thanks, Godfrey.”
I turned, and Greyson grabbed me roughly and pulled me into a hug. I let the warmth and comforting familiarity of him wash over me and tried not to think that it could be the last time I would see him.
“Don’t get caught,” I whispered into his jacket. “I just got you back.”
He nodded, his chin bouncing on my shoulder. Pulling away, I exchanged a look with Logan: Take care of him.
Greyson rummaged in his rucksack and pulled out an extra jacket. He tossed it to Amory, who was still wearing his thin white scrubs.
“You’ll need this,” he said.
Amory took it and forced his arms clumsily into the sleeves. “Thanks.”
Nodding at Godfrey, I grabbed my rifle and opened the car door. Amory emerged slowly, rubbing the back of his neck and still in a daze from his episode. Strapping the gun over my shoulder, I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the cascading pile of rubble between two demolished buildings. The truck pulled away toward the flashing lights, and I forced myself not to watch them go.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Where are we going?” asked Amory. He was still very pale, but it was encouraging that he was aware enough to inquire about our plan.
“We can’t go through the main checkpoint with the others, so we’re going to try to get through one of the old tunnels.”
He shook his head in disapproval. “You should have gone with them. You could have gone through the checkpoint.”
“I’m not going to leave you on your own.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, visualizing the route we needed to take to the old tunnel. Squinting through the darkness, I could see a street sign still standing at the end of the collapsed block. I recognized the name. We were on the right track.
Grabbing Amory’s hand, I pulled him along through the alleyway, picking my way between chunks of blasted concrete and ribbons of twisted steel. He gripped my hand tightly, and I felt a tingle of warmth spread from my fingertips up my arm. Nothing could change the way he made me feel.
As we reached the corner, I stepped out into the street and looked around to check for rovers. I didn’t see any. If we stuck to side streets, it might be possible to avoid them altogether. We moved cautiously down the block, ears piqued for any sound that we were being followed and scanning the shadowed street corners for hidden rovers.
“So, you really don’t remember anything except the simulations?” I whispered.
Amory didn’t answer right away.
His pained expression made me wish instantly I hadn’t said anything.
When he spoke, his words came slowly. “I mean, I remember the adjustments,” he said.
I didn’t ask what “adjustme
nts” were.
“They made me take a pill. I didn’t like it. I remember trying to leave . . . the pain. It was awful because the way that . . . that thing made me feel, I would rather have stayed than fight it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. I could have hurt you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I would have if Greyson hadn’t been there,” he muttered. His voice was bitter, steeped in self-loathing.
We fell silent, and I began to feel slightly awkward. We weren’t touching anymore, and I wondered if maybe things had changed between us. Something was off about the way he spoke. His voice was stiff and formal.
“You had to know I would come get you out,” I said. “You had to know I would try.”
He gave me an odd sideways look. “I kind of hoped you wouldn’t. When they took me, I really hoped you would just . . . leave it alone.”
“What?”
I grabbed his arm, jerking him around to face me. When our eyes met, there was a look of frustration there. “You should have left me, Haven.”
His words felt like a slap. After I had risked everything and persuaded Godfrey and Greyson and Logan to put their lives in danger, he would have preferred me to leave him with the PMC.
Things definitely had changed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him watching me, but I avoided his gaze. He seemed confused. That was nothing compared to how I felt.
Hot tears stinging in my eyes, I wiped them away with the scratchy sleeve of my PMC uniform.
It didn’t make sense. After everything on the farm and his kiss on the hill, I knew Amory had feelings for me. But that was before he was captured. Now he probably resented me for those weeks of imprisonment and torture. After all, it was my fault we were in Sector X that day to begin with. Or maybe he just wasn’t capable of feeling that way after everything he’d been through.
I couldn’t blame him.
I fixed my eyes on the street, blinking back tears and forcing myself to concentrate instead of forming a response that would make it hurt even more.
As we made our way along the street Godfrey had marked on the map, I knew we had to be getting close. We’d been walking for over an hour, cutting through crumbled alleyways, and I was starting to get cold. The adrenaline had worn off, and now I could feel the frigid wind biting through the fabric of the PMC uniform.
I knew Amory had to be cold, too — he was wearing thin cotton pants and Greyson’s light jacket — but I wouldn’t look at him. After the initial shock of his comment, I felt only sadness and humiliation. It was foolish, given our situation, to be worried about the way Amory felt about me, but it was more than that. Maybe his time in Isador had fundamentally changed him.
We passed more demolished streets lined with crushed cars, trash, and rubble. It was hard to believe what it had once looked like. The damage was so severe that it was impossible to tell where one building ended and the other began.
Finally, the destruction gave way to a small, crumbling road leading to the highway. There were no working streetlights, and the guardrails were warped and rusted from years of neglect. We were getting close. My limbs thrummed with the anticipation of freedom. Once we got out of Sector X, everything would be fine. At least that was what I told myself to keep my feet moving.
We followed the road to a derelict overpass covered in a washed-out rainbow of graffiti. This was the point on the map Godfrey had marked. I squinted, searching frantically for the tunnel.
Between the darkness and my fatigue, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was not a tunnel, but rather a solid wall half-hidden behind a thicket of overgrown tree branches. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the crumbling stone entrance to the tunnel was sealed with bricks.
My heart sank. We stood there, taking it all in, and I felt the prickle of tears in my throat once again.
How could Godfrey have sent us here? How could he have made such a huge mistake? The faded neon profanities told me the tunnel had been sealed long before the PMC evacuated Manhattan. It had been our only option for escape.
The Sector X Expressway was destroyed in the riots, and now the only way in or out of the city was through the main bridge. We were trapped here.
The scream of a siren broke through my misery. I looked up to see a PMC cruiser on the overpass. Whoever was inside had spotted us. They knew I had helped Amory escape.
“Run!” I yelled.
We tore back through the demolished alley the way we came, crisscrossing through the streets. I quickly lost track of where we were. All I could think was to make it as difficult as possible for them to find us.
I could still hear the siren, and I was reminded of running from the PMC with Greyson.
I forced my mind elsewhere. It couldn’t be like that again. I was stronger now — smarter. I wouldn’t let them take Amory.
Snow was beginning to fall, and it stuck to my face and eyelashes. I blinked away the heavy flakes, not feeling the cold anymore.
It was difficult to tell where the PMC cruiser was. I could still hear the wail of the siren, but the sound reverberated off the rubble and sounded strangely far away.
Stumbling across the street, I glanced over my shoulder for Amory, but he was frozen on the corner, staring upward. I followed his gaze to a burnt-out stoplight. Mounted on top, its beady black dome swiveling onto Amory, was an ID rover.
Amory fell to his knees in the snow, holding his head in his hands and trying to stifle his cries of pain. I ran over to him. Panic pounded through my veins, clouding my judgment.
His face was screwed up with pain again, but this time, the pain seemed to have progressed more quickly. Learning of his escape, the PMC had increased the intensity of the signal.
“Amory,” I whimpered. “Get up. You have to move. If we get you out of range, the pain will stop.”
Folding in on himself, Amory hid his face in his hands. I knew he didn’t want me to see the tears there. He was rocking back and forth, shaking and struggling for air as if he were having an asthma attack.
Along the back of his neck, an angry red patch like a burn mark had appeared.
Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I grasped him beneath the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His legs were shaky, so I wrapped an arm around his waist and dragged him. I tried pulling him across the street away from the rover, but he yelled and swung back at me, and I knew there must be another in range. I changed direction down the street. He was struggling in earnest now, but we couldn’t go back.
I could hear the sirens approaching. They were definitely closer now. I felt trapped — unable to move in any direction without causing Amory more pain. He was fully doubled over, clutching his head between his hands.
There was only one way to go: through the range of the ID rover.
Praying there weren’t any more rovers on the other side, I pulled Amory through the snow. He was resisting, dragging his heels as I yanked him toward the source of the frequency, and I had to summon all my strength to fight against him. My back screamed in agony, and my arms ached from holding him up, but I knew if I released him, he would collapse.
I stumbled, and his wet cheek brushed against mine.
No. They would not get us.
Amory made a choking sound as we crossed under the rover, and I kept my eyes straight forward. I couldn’t look at the pain on his face. He dry heaved again, and his muscles twitched. For a horrible moment, I thought he was having a seizure, but I did not stop.
The sirens were blaring now. There was no time.
I squinted desperately to the next intersection, but I couldn’t tell if there was another rover. As I pulled Amory along, his cries of pain grew farther apart, but he was still shaking and unsteady as we plowed through the fresh dusting of snow. With the weight of Amory, the strap of my rifle cut into my shoulder painfully. It was useless now; I could not shoot and hold him.
Looking over my shoulder, I could see the lights from
the PMC cruiser bouncing off the building behind us. They would turn the corner soon. We could not outrun them.
Amory’s head went limp, and then his entire body collapsed. I staggered, bent double under the sudden dead weight.
He had passed out.
Legs shaking, I struggled to keep him upright, but I was fighting a losing battle. He was much too heavy.
Gasping for air, I stumbled into the shadows with him. There were no buildings for us to hide in — only great heaps of rubble and ash and splintered wood. It was our only option left, and I could not carry him anymore.
As gently as I could, I dropped Amory into the snow. He fell limp into a pile of crumbled brick and insulation. I looked around desperately for something — anything — to cover us. I spotted a ripped piece of cardboard. It was wet with snow, but it was big. I threw myself down on the ground and curled up around Amory, pulling the piece of cardboard over our heads and rolling us into the rubble.
The sirens were deafening now. They shattered the peace of the snow and the darkness as the cruiser came barreling down the street. I knew my boots were exposed, but the part of my pant leg that showed blended in with the snow. I held still, breathing loudly into Amory’s chest.
The cruiser slowed to a crawl, and I could feel the officers’ eyes scraping the shadows, looking for a flash of white — anything to betray our location. The tires crunched loudly through the snow, and I tried to quiet my labored breathing. Surely it was loud enough for every PMC officer in the vicinity to hear.
But the cruiser moved on, and the sound of the siren faded into the destroyed buildings. I lay still, not daring to move. There were probably others. Now that they knew whom Amory had escaped with, every PMC officer in the city would have my picture from the cameras at Isador.
My rifle was cutting into my back. I rolled over, and Amory gasped, his chest heaving against my cheek. He thrashed around under the sheet of cardboard, muscles tensed, but I pulled him tightly against me.
“Shhh.”
“What’s going on?” Amory’s voice was panicked, and I felt a twinge of guilt that he had to wake up this way. After his time with the PMC, I knew it must be terrifying.
Enemy Inside (Defectors Trilogy) Page 6