The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy)

by Benner, Tarah

  “Yesterday.”

  “And you escaped?”

  I nodded. “They fell asleep.”

  “Shit.” He slammed his fist on the table. “How far behind you?”

  “I-I don’t know. I’ve been kind of out of it. They move pretty slow, normally.”

  He was already on his feet calling for the others. Roman stomped into the kitchen first, looking annoyed.

  “We need to be on high alert for carriers,” said Amory. “Haven had a run-in with them yesterday on the trail.”

  “Now she tells us?” Roman’s voice was full of hatred.

  My stomach dropped. “Carriers” should have been the first word out of my mouth when Amory brought me to the house, but at the time, I’d been focused on other things. It hadn’t even occurred to me that the carriers might follow me to the farm.

  “How many are there?” Roman spat.

  “F-four,” I stammered.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Amory wasn’t coming to my defense. Why should he?

  “I thought you were a carrier when you tackled me,” I mumbled.

  “Well, clearly I’m not.” He looked sullen again. “If carriers are on the move, we have to be prepared.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Logan had reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking irritated. “Honestly, she’s been through enough today.”

  Everyone, including me, stopped and stared at Logan in surprise. I couldn’t believe she was coming to my defense.

  “Well, I mean, it’s a pretty bad day when you run into a bunch of carriers and then stumble onto a farm where everyone’s like, ‘Hey guys, should we kill her?’ Amory cut her arm open, for god’s sake.” She made a face at them, one hand on her hip.

  I felt a rush of gratitude toward Logan and decided to take advantage of Roman’s and Amory’s temporary speechlessness to explain.

  “I was captured yesterday,” I said. “They tied me up, but I don’t know why. I escaped when they fell asleep. I think they were at least a few hours behind me.”

  Everyone turned to look at me.

  “You were their prisoner?” Roman asked in disbelief.

  I nodded.

  “Why would they —” Logan began, but Roman cut her off.

  “You’re lying. Carriers don’t take hostages! They slit your throat and leave you to die. If you had a run-in with a pack of them, you’d be dead.”

  Amory was studying me. “I believe her,” he said finally. “She was ready to stab me with that butter knife I got off her. Something definitely had her running scared.”

  “Well then, she could be infected!” Roman yelled. He rounded on Amory. “Why did you bring her here? She’s been nothing but trouble!”

  What was this guy’s problem?

  “Oh, for crying out loud!” Logan screamed. “She was vaccinated!”

  “That vaccine is bullshit!” Roman yelled. “Nothing but a media stunt to control the American people. If she came in contact with carriers, she could be infected.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, and you know it,” said Logan. “Nobody knows for sure how the virus spreads.” She turned to me, looking serious. “Did they have the sores yet?”

  I shook my head. “These ones weren’t far enough along. They’d only been infected for two months or so, by the looks of it.”

  Logan turned to Roman. “There. We’ll know within a week if she’s infected. The fever will set in, and you’ll see it in her eyes. If she has the virus, we’ll have plenty of warning before she becomes a murderous, raving lunatic.”

  “Well, if they’re starting to take hostages, we’ve got a bigger problem than before,” said Amory. “The virus is mutating. They’re getting smarter.”

  Logan rolled her eyes. “Well, this looks like a case for the idiot detectives. Haven’s coming with me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Logan threaded her arm through mine, and I allowed her to steer me up the stairs, away from the boys. It was very strange to be pulled along by this capricious, fiery blonde when she had been vying for my murder only hours ago.

  “Max told me Roman destroyed your CID,” she explained. “I’m sorry about before. We’re all just a little . . . on edge living out here.”

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “It’s supposed to be a safe house, but it doesn’t always feel very safe. Not with everything that’s going on.”

  We reached the landing at the top of the stairs.

  “Only one bathroom,” she said apologetically. “We can’t exceed our energy quota, so hot water is a luxury. But I figure after what you’ve been through, a hot bath would be nice.”

  I smiled. “If I weren’t disgusting, I would hug you right now.”

  Logan beamed, squeezing my arm. “It’s going to be nice having another girl around here. I mean, there’s Ida, but she’s old!”

  She gestured to the bathroom, which was dark except for a single candle. “Like I said, electricity is only for the essentials.”

  For a split second, I wondered how she kept her long blond waves so pristine without a hairdryer.

  “That’s my room, and that’s Max’s room.” Logan pointed to the only closed door, wrinkling her nose. “Roman’s room . . . sorry he’s such a dick, by the way. You’ll get used to it. That over there is Ida’s room.”

  “Who’s Ida?”

  “Oh! I totally forgot to tell you about her. This is her house. The farm has been in her family for decades. She has an open-door policy for illegals on the run. She’s documented, but she’s a sympathizer. She teaches at the university in Columbia, so she only comes out here on the weekends.”

  “That’s where I went to school,” I said.

  “You came all the way here on foot?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s incredible.”

  “How long have you all been here?” I asked.

  “Roman’s been here the longest . . . nine months or so. Since the mandatory ID bill passed, I think. Right after Ida opened her home to undocumented illegals. Max and Amory came here together a few months after that. Amory was in bad shape — nearly killed himself cutting out his CID. Then I came. I’ve been here almost six months. There are others who stay here, of course — people who are just passing through and in need of a safe place to sleep for the night — but most don’t stay long.”

  “I guess I thought you all came here together.”

  She smiled. “Oh, no. You just get to know people pretty well when they’re under your skin twenty-four/seven. Some people more than others . . .” She rolled her eyes, gesturing to Roman’s door.

  “Your room will be up here.”

  I stopped. “I really appreciate all this, but I really won’t be staying long. My friend has been captured by the PMC, and I have to keep making my way east.”

  “Haven, you won’t make it to Sector X on foot.”

  “I have to try.” I swallowed. After saying it aloud a second time, it sounded hopeless, even to me.

  By the expression she wore, I could tell Logan understood — as if she too had lost someone in the aftermath of the Collapse. What a mess.

  “There’s a migratory bunch of rebels passing through sometime in the next two weeks,” she said. “Maybe you can go with them. They have transportation. It will be much faster than going on foot.”

  “Would they let me come?”

  “I don’t see why they wouldn’t. You’re on our side.”

  I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her. She had come up with a better plan in five seconds than I had come up with in five days.

  “But for now, you need a place to recover,” she said.

  I followed her up a small flight of extremely steep stairs to a tiny landing. There were only two rooms. One door was closed, which I recognized as Amory’s room, where I had slept earlier. The other room looked about the same but didn’t have any windows. It was just large enough to hold a single bed with a cheery quilt, a bedside table with
a propane lamp, and a tiny chest of drawers. Somebody had already laid out a stack of clean towels on the bed.

  “It gets pretty cold up here, but there’s extra blankets in the dresser. You can come downstairs and sleep by the fire if you want. Amory sometimes does, now that it’s getting colder.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve been sleeping on the ground. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  She laughed. “Really, I do. I’ll bring you some clean clothes to change into, and we can ask Ida to pick you up some things at the Exchange when she goes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” she said, squeezing my arm. “We know what it’s like out there.” She turned to go but at the last minute threw her arms around my neck in a body-crushing, floral-smelling hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. Living with three boys is really awful!”

  I laughed and she released me, flying out of my room and thundering down the stairs.

  Once she left, I caught a glimpse of myself in the small mirror that hung on the back of the door. I was startled by how awful I looked. My cheeks looked sunken and streaked with dirt. My hair was a matted, tangled knot. I looked like a wild animal. A bath could wait no longer.

  Grabbing a towel, I retraced my steps down to the tiny bathroom. Like most of the rooms, the wood panels were painted white, and a huge clawed bathtub took up nearly half the room. The candle had burned down, but I was grateful for the dim lighting as I peeled off my filthy clothes.

  Sinking into the hot bath water, I didn’t think anything had ever felt so wonderful. I fought the temptation to fill the tub to the brim and sink down deep to let the warmth envelop my entire body. Careful not to get my freshly stitched arm wet, I scrubbed the grime off my body, turning the bathwater a murky gray.

  I carefully removed Amory’s head dressing and dipped backwards to wet my hair. My head wound stung sharply, but my hair was too filthy not to wash. Freeing the dirt and debris from the tangled, matted locks, I marveled at the dark chestnut sheen I hadn’t seen in days.

  By the time the water cooled, the candle was burning so low it had nearly gone out. I hurried to dry myself and wrapped the skimpy towel around my torso. Peeking out through a crack in the door to see if the coast was clear, I dashed up the stairs to my room with my dirty clothes in a bundle.

  As promised, Logan had left some of her own clothes for me to wear on the bed: a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a soft hoodie, and sweats to sleep in. I found her jeans to be a bit baggy — she was much curvier than I was — so they sat low on my hips.

  I was still in awe over the relative cleanliness of my hair, so I left it to dry in its choppy waves over my shoulders and padded down the two flights of stairs to the first floor.

  I found Logan on the back porch cleaning a shotgun. She jumped up when she saw me, looking relieved by my normal, less grimy appearance.

  “You look refreshed!”

  “You have no idea.” I grinned, eyeing the disassembled gun warily. What kind of house had I wandered into?

  “Oh! Look at you, poor thing!” A warm but high-pitched cry from the front door caused me to nearly jump out of Logan’s ill-fitting jeans.

  I turned to find the source of the voice and saw a tall, matronly woman with wispy platinum-blond hair floating down her back. This must be Ida. She wore gold rectangular glasses that framed huge, pale blue eyes and a floor-length skirt that appeared to be constructed from bits of carpet sewn together. Ida flew down the hall in a few strides and pulled me up in a spleen-crushing hug.

  “You’re so skinny! Half-starved, I guess.” She pulled me a few inches away to get a good look, and I got the chance to study her up close. Her face was aged with wrinkles but had the healthy red flush of a farmer. She was positively beaming at me.

  “This is Ida,” Logan explained.

  “I’m Haven,” I choked, trying to smile.

  “I know! Max caught me on the way in . . . said you survived an attack in the woods and Amory removed your Citizen ID?

  I nodded.

  “Oh, how awful. And whose idea was that?” She threw a sideways look at Logan, who flushed.

  Ida made a tsking sound. “Always the excitable types, you and Roman,” she said to Logan. “I just always thought there had to be another way.”

  I looked at Logan, feeling uncomfortable, but Ida changed the subject masterfully.

  “Haven, dear, did Amory feed you when you arrived?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “He made me some eggs.” It seemed as if it was best to be forthcoming with this woman.

  “Eggs? In the afternoon?” Ida turned to Logan, looking aghast. “That young man fed our newest patriot eggs?”

  Logan nodded grimly, but I could see a laugh threatening to burst forth from her lips.

  “Thank god Max is roasting a chicken tonight. I wonder if he can make some of that rhubarb pie I like to go with it.” She smacked her lips with relish before releasing me and strode out the back door.

  “She’s not going to slaughter a chicken, is she?” I asked.

  “No, Max did that this morning. It’s quite the production.”

  I must have looked queasy, because Logan laughed.

  “Everything is as fresh as it gets out here.”

  Although I desperately wanted to explore the house and the farm some more, Logan made me go directly back upstairs to sleep until dinner. Her reasoning was that between my encounter with the carriers and my “hack doctor surgery,” I had lost a lot of blood and probably had a concussion.

  I didn’t argue with her. After everything that had happened, I still felt weak and exhausted. Now that I was cleaned up and no longer bleeding — and, most of all, safe — I wanted nothing more than a nice long nap. I sneaked another piece of the delicious bread Amory had offered me earlier and climbed the stairs to my room. Curling up under the quilt that smelled like cedar and fresh air, I breathed a sigh of relief and fell asleep.

  I awoke to the smell of roasted chicken wafting up from the kitchen. I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed. Although I’d eaten a lot earlier, I felt ravenous again. Judging by the darkness of the house, I had slept for hours.

  Walking down the hall toward the kitchen, I could tell the mood in the house had changed completely since I first arrived. I could hear laughter around the table, the happy sounds of pans clanking on the stove, and Frank Sinatra belting from the record player.

  “I hope you’re hungry!” said Ida when she saw me, opening her arms invitingly. “Maxwell has prepared an excellent feast.”

  Max grinned up at me as he bent to pull the chicken out of the oven. The scent was enough to make my mouth water. I hadn’t tasted chicken in months.

  I followed him to the dining room, which was illuminated by a huge brass lantern. The walls were papered in a loud paisley pattern that gave the room a homey feel, and a long table was laden with heaps of mashed potatoes, two fresh loaves of rosemary bread, green beans, and roasted carrots.

  “Dinner is served,” Max said with an air of ceremony, giving a ridiculous little bow and gesturing to the table.

  I grinned and hovered awkwardly next to the table, waiting for the others to claim their seats. A moment later, Logan and Roman trickled in. Logan rolled her eyes but smiled indulgently at Max, and Roman looked about as friendly as ever.

  Max lunged around me to pull Logan’s chair out for her, and she sneaked a glance at him before taking her seat. I took the chair across from her, as far from Roman as possible.

  Ida came in carrying a steaming rhubarb pie. “Life is too short. I just prefer to start with dessert sometimes.”

  Finally, Amory strode in looking distracted. His hair was damp, and he smelled like soap — something woodsy and refreshing. He flopped down into the chair on my left with an audible “Hurumph.”

  “Tough day at the office, dear?” Max asked, laying a hand over Amory’s in mock concern.

  Amory pulled his hand away, but a shadow of a grin flitted across his face. He k
icked Max under the table so forcefully that I thought he might upend his chair, and it suddenly made sense how somebody as tightly wound as Amory had managed to become friends with Max.

  “Well, Haven wasn’t lying about those carriers,” he said, ignoring the spread of food before him as everybody else began heaping their plates. “Four of them — no more than eight weeks infected, so far as I could tell.”

  “Those poor things,” said Ida, sipping her tea with a furrowed brow.

  “Yeah, and you didn’t want to go after them,” said Roman. He was glaring at Amory.

  “They weren’t encroaching on our land,” said Amory. “I’ve never seen carriers moving with such . . . purpose. They weren’t even tempted by the farm. It was like they were on a mission.”

  Roman snorted. “Listen to yourself.” His voice was level and cruel. “It’s like you think they’re still in their right minds. That disease eats their brains. Once it’s progressed, they can’t think. They’re not human anymore!”

  I felt a flash of anger. Those carriers were about as far along as my mother, and she had still been my mom — even when she wasn’t in her right mind.

  “That’s enough,” said Ida. She hadn’t said it sharply or even raised her voice, but Roman fell silent and stared down at his plate, looking abashed.

  “They are still people,” she said evenly. “Dangerous, yes, but only because they are afflicted with a deadly disease that destroys their ability to reason and feel empathy for other humans. Until there is a cure, we protect our land and each other. But I did not open my house for it to become a war zone or to shoot carriers indiscriminately. If they don’t stop here, let them move on in peace. Each of them was somebody’s family once.”

  I looked up at Ida, feeling a rush of affection I couldn’t quite explain. Roman cleared his throat in a way that sounded like reluctant assent.

  “Now enough of that talk,” she said, brightening visibly. “Haven, why don’t you tell us how you came to be here?”

  I hadn’t been expecting that. “Well, I left Columbia about five days ago.”

  “You’ve come a long way.”