When he saw we were alone, Amory finally looked at me. His expression was pained.
Before I could say anything, he drew me into him and took both my hands in his.
“Haven, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you. I had tunnel vision or something.”
I tore my eyes away. It was too much.
“It’s just like with the carriers. It was like . . . my instincts took over. I just wanted to end that guy. I was disconnected.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten between you two in that fight,” I said. “I know that was stupid.” I looked down at my hands and saw they were shaking. “But if you ever touch me like that again . . . we’re done, you and me.”
He nodded. “You have to help me, Haven.” His voice broke. He shuddered, as if struggling to form the words. “Something is seriously wrong with me. There’s this . . . monster in my body trying to get out. All the bad stuff is just too much sometimes.”
We fell silent for a moment, and I focused on the warmth of his hands on me. It was hard to believe they were the same hands that had shoved me aside moments ago.
“I would never hurt you,” he said. “I know that seems like a stretch, after what’s happened today . . . but that’s not just me making an empty promise.” He took a deep breath, and his face glowed red. “I’ve noticed . . . this feeling that I get only takes over when I’m afraid. Not normal fear . . . I don’t think there’s been a day when I haven’t been afraid since the Collapse. I mean that cold fear that grabs you and leaves you paralyzed. That’s when I lose control.”
As he spoke, he turned my hand over in his palm, studying the soft skin between my thumb and index finger rather than looking me in the eyes. “The night before when all those carriers came . . . I thought they were going to kill us. I mean, honestly, I didn’t think we’d make it. That’s the fear that got me. That’s when I lost it.”
Finally Amory looked up at me. His bright gray eyes stood out sharply against the dark bruised flesh around it.
“It’s all right,” I whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here.”
He opened his mouth wordlessly, but I pulled his face down to mine and brushed my lips against his.
Just as I felt the warmth of his kiss, I heard the crunch of footsteps outside the tent, and we sprang apart.
Shriver was standing in the opening, looking harried. “You again.”
“Yeah . . . sorry. We came here hoping you could treat Amory’s wounds.”
She let out an irritated stream of air from between pursed lips and rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if you get in another fistfight, I’m going to start charging you.”
Impatience pouring off her, Shriver snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves and grabbed a bottle of antiseptic. Moving methodically from head to torso, she quickly disinfected Amory’s wounds and bandaged the deep ones. When she swabbed a deep cut on his arm, he tilted his head away in a grimace. She grabbed his chin, twisting his head around none to gently to examine the site where I had removed the CID.
“You do this hack job yourself?” she asked him.
That stung.
“No. I couldn’t reach it. Haven did it.”
Shriver sighed in exasperation. “This should really have stitches. And rolling around on the ground when you have a fresh wound like this isn’t smart. I need to open it up to clean it properly.”
“Haven had it bandaged,” said Amory. “But I ripped it off when the PMC showed up.”
Shriver didn’t say anything, and I took her silence to mean she didn’t care what the reason was.
“Are you a doctor?” asked Amory, not unkindly.
“I was a paramedic,” she said.
Amory grinned. “At school, the kids who trained as paramedics knew everything. They’d already been in the trenches, you know?”
“Med school?” she asked.
He grunted in assent, wincing as Shriver opened up his wound. “Never had the chance to finish.”
When she next spoke, her voice was kinder than I’d ever heard it. “Well, if something awful goes down and we have a whole mess of wounded people, I could use your help. Nobody else around here knows what’s what.”
She cleaned and sutured the wound quickly, slapping a new bandage over her work with a glare at me. “You stay away from here. You can’t make a clean incision to save your life.”
“I was using a kitchen knife!” I said, feeling defensive.
Amory grinned. “She did a really good job. She didn’t pass out or anything. Lots of people pass out the first time.”
I looked away, feeling my cheeks grow warm at the look he was giving me. He thanked Shriver and helped me out of the tent. We turned to go back to my tent, but Logan was already coming toward me with a serious look on her face.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She looked at Amory. “Rulon’s called an all-hands meeting.”
My heart sank. I could think of only one reason for Rulon to call a meeting. He wanted to discuss Amory, possibly me and Amory. Was he planning to kick us out of the camp? Have us killed?
When we reached the enormous bonfire, people were already milling about the mess line, waiting to get their breakfast. Even after our long hike through the night, I didn’t feel hungry. Greyson motioned us over to a log where he sat near the back, and we joined him.
“Do you think we should be sitting here?” Logan muttered to him, staring straight ahead. “We could get some stuff together and be on the move before they realize —”
Greyson sighed. He looked tired. “How far do you think we’d get before either the rebels or the PMC caught up to us?”
Logan looked wounded. “We’re smarter than they are. We could do it.”
“Where would we go?” I asked.
“If it’s me they want, I’ll leave,” said Amory.
We all turned to look at him. His face was set in a hard line, but I could see the fear flickering behind his eyes.
“No,” I said. “If it’s you they want, we’ll all make a run for it.”
Logan nodded, and to my relief, so did Greyson. I felt a twinge of guilt. A little over a month ago, Greyson had just wanted to go west and find a way to bring his family over. After he was captured, he wanted to fight for the rebels. I had dragged him into our problems, and because of that, they would never trust him as they trusted their other soldiers.
The people sitting around us fell silent, and I looked up to see Rulon approaching from the tent block. He was fully dressed now, and he looked hardened and intimidating.
He stepped into the center of the group with the fire blazing behind him. “Comrades.” His voice boomed out across the crowd. “I regret to inform you that I have just received intelligence that our position has been compromised.”
An anxious murmur rippled through the crowd. Logan met my gaze, and I read the fear there. If Rulon was telling the truth, there was a good chance he was going to assign the blame to Amory and me.
“Apparently, one of the guards at the bridge became suspicious on our latest extraction mission and sent out a satellite rover. Fortunately, it identified Jared and two other undocumented illegals a good five miles away from camp, so our exact location is unknown.
“We should prepare immediately to fortify our ranks and take out the officers they send to investigate. I will lead a small group of soldiers out to their target location. Hopefully we can contain the situation. Any soldier who wishes to fight should meet back here in ten minutes ready to go.”
Rulon nodded once and strode back to his tent. The crowd erupted immediately.
“How do they know that?” Amory whispered.
“They’ve been listening in on the PMC forever,” said Logan. “The camp is so close to Sector X they can pick up the dispatch radio frequency on a regular scanner.”
Greyson snorted. “That’s pretty stupid of the PMC.”
“They think this area is secure,” said Logan. “That’s why they treat this threat so seriously.�
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“Well, I’m going,” said Greyson.
“What?” I turned to him.
“I’m going down there to fight them.” His expression was set. “This is what I signed up for.”
“It’s not what I signed up for!” My voice was higher than usual, and I could feel the panic rising in my throat. “I didn’t come all the way out here so you could get yourself killed.”
Greyson met my gaze, and I recognized that look of determination on his face. That was the look he got when his mind was made up and he was not open to negotiation. “Things changed for me when I was locked up. I have to serve a purpose. Dying in a fight is better than sitting around here, waiting to be killed. When you’re afraid, they own you. I’m sick of it.”
“Well, I can’t go with you!” I said, gesturing to my ankle.
Greyson met my gaze the same way he had done when we were teenagers having one of our telepathic conversations. “I wouldn’t want you to.”
I stared at him, letting it sink in.
“I’m going, too,” said Amory.
“No, you’re not!” Logan and I said in unison.
I shot Greyson a deadly look. Not only was he going to put his own life in danger to play the hero, but he was dragging Amory with him.
“Why would you let him go, but not me?” Amory asked Logan.
“He’s too stubborn. I don’t want either one of you to go.”
Amory turned to me. “I need to go.”
I shook my head. “Not after what just happened.” I lowered my voice. “You can’t control yourself in a fight, and none of the rebels trust you.”
“That’s exactly why I should go.”
I could see that his decision was made. There was no point arguing.
He and Greyson ran off to their tents to dress and find weapons, and I sank down on a log by the fire and put my head in my hands.
“I hate this.”
“Me too,” Logan sighed.
Her weary expression caught me off guard. It was sometimes so easy to forget that she had once been an officer. She must be used to watching her friends go off to fight, not knowing if she would see them again. I didn’t ask, but I was sure it never got any easier.
A few minutes later, Amory and Greyson reappeared wearing bulletproof vests and carrying two of the most terrifying rifles I’d seen in the rebels’ stash. Greyson was doing a poor job hiding his excitement. Amory looked grim.
I got up to hug Greyson first. “Please don’t let anything happen to him,” I murmured into his coat. “And if anything happens to you —”
“Relax.” He pulled away and squeezed my arm once. “I’ll make sure none of the rebels shoot Amory before we get to the PMC.”
Logan hugged Greyson awkwardly, and I moved to Amory. He looked so tough in his battle gear. The scruff that had grown on his face from two days without shaving only added to his rugged appearance, and I reminded myself that he would have become a field physician for the PMC if he hadn’t fled to the farm.
“You know why I have to do this.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. This is only temporary.”
Lowering his voice, Amory took a step closer to me. “We don’t know how long this rebellion is going to last. As long as the PMC is still in power, we are going to need allies.”
“It doesn’t have to be them,” I said, eyeing the rebels milling around waiting to leave.
“Let’s go, men!” Rulon yelled.
I felt a sting of irritation. A dozen or so women were also dressed for battle, but they didn’t seem to bat an eye at Rulon’s address.
Before I could say or do anything else, Amory grabbed me by my coat and pulled me up to kiss him. My feet left the ground for a moment, and his warm lips pressed against mine. The scruff was new, and it burned against my chin in a pleasant way. I tried to memorize every part of him: his smell, the feel of him against me, and those gray eyes I loved so much.
Just as I let my hands settle on his strong chest, someone near us cleared his throat. Amory pulled away, looking dazed, and his face glowed with heat.
Greyson raised an eyebrow at me and cocked his head approvingly. My face felt hot.
Without another word, Amory flew in for one last quick kiss, and then he was gone.
He and Greyson followed the others through the trees toward the hill, and Greyson turned one last time to wave before they disappeared out of sight.
“Wow,” said Logan. “That was intense.”
She was grinning in a way that made me feel embarrassed.
“I mean, I always expected Amory would be really intense, but man.” She fanned herself with her hand.
I opened my mouth to retort but closed it immediately. I had nothing to tease Logan about. The only guy I’d ever seen her with was Max, and I couldn’t sully the few memories she had with him by making a joke.
She seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because her eyes looked suddenly misty.
“Oh . . . I’m sorry,” I said. I sank down on the log next to her, feeling like a terrible person. Why had I let Amory kiss me in front of her and rub it in her face like that? Max’s death was still so fresh.
Melting against my side, Logan let her head fall onto my shoulder. I knew she was crying, although she did not make a sound.
I understood how she felt, even though I hadn’t wept for my parents much in the last few weeks. Grief was not a wound; it was emptiness.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated to no one in particular.
“It’s fine,” said Logan. “I’m so glad for you two. And Amory . . . he deserves to be happy. He’s had a really shitty life.”
“What do you mean?” I had always suspected things were bad for Amory to leave his dad and come to Ida’s, but I never asked him about his life before the farm. Everyone there had left for a reason, and I made it a point never to ask.
“I only knew the rumors. Captain Elwood was old PMC, like Godfrey. He was a legend — evil. Everyone knew the stories. I don’t think he started experimenting on Amory until he got older, but he used to hit him and his mom. One day, she finally had enough. I guess she left him. But that’s not even the worst of it.”
Logan swallowed, looking sick. “They found her car in a lake . . . with her in it. The papers said she killed herself, but it never made sense. And with her gone, I think things got a lot worse for Amory.”
I sat back, my mind reeling with this information. It made sense why Amory used to hate killing carriers as much as I did. He had grown up around so much violence that it probably disgusted him. That was all different now.
I ate breakfast without really tasting any of it. The food was cold as usual, but I knew I should eat.
Exhausted and defeated, I went back to the tent and collapsed onto my sleeping bag to take a nap. It was strange sleeping during the day with all the commotion going on around me. I knew the camp was shorthanded now that half our forces had gone off to fight, but I desperately needed to rest.
I tried not to think of Amory out there marching toward the PMC without breakfast, without sleep, and without any real allies other than Greyson.
I had just nodded off when I heard the screams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I awoke with a start. High-pitched screams pierced the air and rang out across the camp. I heard shouts, followed by gunshots.
We were under attack.
Tripping and fumbling to extricate myself from my sleeping bag on my bad ankle, I looked around wildly for my weapons. The rifle I had taken into Sector X was long gone. All that was left was Logan’s second rifle she had stolen from the rebels and the knives from my rucksack. I stuffed two knives into my holster, grabbed Logan’s rifle, and struggled into a standing position.
How could I fight with my crutch? It was absurd. I couldn’t even fire a gun leaning on it. Head still spinning with sleep, I limped out into the snow without it.
Crouching in the shadows behind the block of tents, I look
ed for the telltale whites of PMC officers moving through the camp, but we weren’t being attacked by the PMC.
The camp was crawling with carriers. I hadn’t seen so many since the riot outside Saint Drogo’s. This was an enormous horde of them that had grown and grown as one pack merged with another. There had to be more than a hundred. Judging by how spread out they were, they had ambushed the camp from the woods.
I watched one carrier grab an old rebel woman by the hair and drag her through the snow. Another rebel leapt on his back, but the carrier just shook him off, finally catapulting the woman against the table outside the mess tent.
As I stood there, frozen, I realized something was wrong. These were not the slow, weak carriers I’d seen in the riots. They were too fast.
Some early-stage carriers could take on a human with nearly as much strength as they had before infection, but these carriers were so far along that it was difficult to tell if they were male or female. They had all lost their hair except for a sick, downy fluff coating their scalps, and they were wrinkled and emaciated. Their mouths were raw and chapped, and when they screamed, their unnerving bloodshot, jaundiced eyes bulged from their sockets. Even their clothes were destroyed, hanging in filthy rags from their bony shoulders.
Stunned, I looked around for Logan, but she was nowhere to be found. Many of the rebels who had been taken by surprise when the carriers stormed into camp were locked in combat, using anything they could find to fend off their attackers. Some kneeled behind the tents, guns poised, but very few people were firing shots for fear of hitting other humans. I wanted to shout that shooting the carriers was our only chance — that these carriers weren’t like the others — but those who were still at camp were not trained fighters. Many were injured, weak, or timid.
I raised my rifle and fired at a carrier who had broken off from the group in search of a new victim. The familiar kickback stung my shoulder, but my aim was true. Scanning the perimeter of the camp, I took out two more carriers in range who had broken away from the fighting rebels.
A few yards away, another carrier fell. I could see the blood spurting from the back of his head — a perfect shot. I glanced around for Logan but didn’t see her.
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