The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy)

by Benner, Tarah

  To avoid suspicion, they used electricity sparingly on the farm. During the summer months, electricity was reserved for running the farm and the printing press in the basement. In the winter, heating the huge, drafty house alone would far surpass the legal limit for energy consumption. Most nights, they relied on the fireplaces, kerosene lamps, and candles.

  I wasn’t sure how Ida managed it before Logan, Amory, and the others arrived, but Logan said the farm had a near constant stream of illegals in residence; the four of them had just been there the longest.

  After learning the farm’s operations, I felt an intense appreciation for the food that had filled my belly so far in Ida’s house. Despite limited access to food and supplies from the city, I could not imagine the documented eating so well up north.

  Logan left me alone for my afternoon carrier shift. I spent about an hour on target practice, but if anything, I felt worse than the first day. How would I ever be able to hit a living, breathing, moving carrier if I couldn’t even hit a stationary target?

  Shoulder sore from the constant kickback, I lowered the shotgun and stared at the dummy in frustration.

  “Having some trouble?”

  A tingling sensation rippled up my chest as I realized someone was watching. I turned in the direction of the voice to see Amory ambling toward me from the barn. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him — perhaps because he’d gotten a full night’s sleep without carrier lookout.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. I’m still watching for carriers. Just practicing.”

  “I can see that.” He grinned.

  “I’m pretty terrible. And Logan’s —”

  “Logan’s a natural,” he finished. “She can hit anything from a mile away. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  My heart sank. I liked Logan a lot, but it didn’t feel good to be compared to her.

  “Don’t worry.” His bright gray eyes bored into mine. “Some people just have a knack for shooting — it comes naturally.”

  “Not for me.”

  “Not for most people,” said Amory.

  “I just need more practice,” I said. I wasn’t used to being so terrible at something new, and I hated it.

  “Do you . . . want me to show you how to shoot better?”

  I cocked my head, regarding him with suspicion. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked.

  He looked stumped. “What do you mean?”

  “I wandered onto your farm the other day, tried to stab you with a knife, and you defended me. Now you’re volunteering to teach me how to shoot.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re going to be guarding us from carriers while we sleep. I’d like it if you knew how to use a gun.”

  “But why did you trust me?” I pressed. “I could have been infected or a PMC spy.”

  “A lapse in judgment, I guess.”

  “Really.”

  Amory sighed. “I guess I was curious about you. Okay?” He turned away, pacing slightly. “And I knew you weren’t PMC. You looked like a runaway who was in trouble.” He stopped and looked me in the eyes. “Trust me. I was one once. Do you want me to show you how to hit a carrier or not?”

  I paused for a moment, considering his explanation. “Logan tried.”

  Amory raised an eyebrow. “Logan is good at a lot of things. Teaching people how to shoot is not one of them.”

  I laughed. “All right. If you think you can. I don’t want to be the only one here who isn’t comfortable using a gun.”

  “You wouldn’t be the only one,” he muttered. “Let me see your stance.”

  I wondered what he meant, but it seemed as if nobody there ever explained things fully. I faced the target, planted my left foot out, and raised the gun to rest the butt against my shoulder.

  “Here.” He stepped up behind me, so close I could feel his body heat radiating through my thin sweatshirt. Gently, he placed a hand at the small of my back and pushed my right shoulder down. He touched the crook of my arm with warm, slender fingers and pulled my elbow out.

  “Shoot,” he said, his breath moving my hair.

  I took in a deep breath, and as I breathed out, I fired. The gun pushed back against me, and I knew it compromised my aim. I hit the canvas too high, missing the target.

  “When you shoot, point the gun down just a little bit to offset the kickback.”

  I set my stance again, adjusting my aim this time.

  “Try again.”

  I shot. I could tell his adjustment helped with the kickback, but my shot still wasn’t steady.

  Amory was watching me with a furrowed brow.

  “When you shoot, you exhale as you fire. That’s going to mess up your aim.” He came in closer without hesitation and pressed himself against me. I felt his fingers brush my outside hip. “Take a deep breath in, hold it, and find your target.”

  I doubted very much I would be able to shoot straight with his torso pressed against me, but I breathed deeply and took aim, cocking the barrel slightly below the center of the target.

  Amory grasped my left hand with his own and adjusted. My face was burning, which made me feel stupid.

  “There.”

  I fired. My aim was true, sinking into the chest of the dummy. Not right in the center, but just near it. I exhaled loudly.

  “Not bad.” I could tell he was grinning.

  “Well, you’re not a bad teacher. Better than Logan, anyway.”

  “It’s hard to teach something that comes easily for you.”

  “It’s not easy for you?”

  “You could say that.”

  There he goes being cryptic again, I thought. I wondered if he’d ever killed anyone.

  “Well, well. Isn’t this nice?”

  Amory stepped away from me quickly, turning to glare at Roman.

  Dressed in camouflage cargo pants and a tight T-shirt that stretched over his enormous upper body, Roman looked intimidating. But Amory did not shrink back. He took a step toward Roman, his shoulders back, and I could see that, despite the discrepancy in size, Amory stood just as tall.

  “Why are you out here? It’s not your watch.”

  “It’s not yours, either. You’re supposed to bring the cows in. There’s a storm coming.”

  Past the cornfield and the barn, I could see the cows standing lazily in the small green pasture.

  “Why don’t you worry about yourself? I’m teaching Haven to shoot.”

  “Really? Because it looks like you’re doing something else.”

  I felt myself blush.

  “But to tell you the truth,” he continued, “I’m a lot more worried about the fact that we’ve decided to arm some defector girl we know nothing about.”

  His words felt like a slap, and I copied Amory and took a step toward him, turning my chin up to his face.

  “I know you don’t trust me,” I said. “But my parents are dead, my best friend was taken, and I was held captive by carriers a few days ago. I don’t care if you don’t like me. I just need to stay here until the rebels come to take me out east, and then I’ll be gone. Until then, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  Roman’s expression was explosive. He took one step forward as if he wanted to strike me, and then a shot rang out in the distance.

  I jumped and spun around. Standing behind the barn with her shotgun raised was Logan.

  On the edge of the cornfield, suspended halfway between motion and death, was a carrier. As we watched, the carrier slumped to the ground, and Logan lowered her gun.

  The three of us ran toward him, looking around wildly for any more encroaching from the surrounding woods. I held my gun in my hands, cold and useless, and felt the sharp sting of failure.

  Standing over the carrier, I could see where Logan had gotten him just between the eyes. His were half-closed, bloodshot, and bulging. He looked strange lying there, his emaciated body twisted and contorted. He was wearing a Joe’s Pest Control T-shirt and ripped jean shorts. Up close, his skin l
ooked dead, yellowish, and translucent, almost like a fish.

  “Are you satisfied?” Logan yelled as she stalked toward us. Her blond hair was blowing back behind her, and she looked positively terrifying. “You decide you’re going to pick a fight, and for what?” She was yelling at Roman.

  “Logan, it was my watch.”

  “Right,” she said. “So explain to me why you were there.” She rounded on Amory. “Not that you aren’t all responsible.”

  We all looked at our feet.

  Logan took a deep breath. “We can’t afford distractions. It was going to kill Delilah.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the cow with warm brown spots standing in the small pasture, chewing and looking bored.

  “Where are the others?” asked Amory.

  Logan shook her head. “They must have sent in one to see if he could make it. It’s weird though — for them to try it in broad daylight.”

  “They’re getting smarter,” said Amory. He sounded tired. “I’ll patrol the perimeter and see if there are any more lurking around.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  Roman stood there, fists clenched at his sides, face red. His head was down, and he looked caught between rage and shame. “I’ll get rid of it,” he muttered, looking down at the carrier with disgust. “Get Max to come and —”

  “That’s really not his thing,” Logan snapped. “I’ll help you.”

  I followed Amory to the edge of the woods in silence. I felt like the most incompetent guard of all time — not because I had missed the carrier sneaking out of the woods toward the pasture, but because I knew that even if I had seen it, I would not have been able to kill it in time.

  When I looked up, Amory was studying my face.

  “It’s all right, you know.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It’s my fault anyway, but what matters is that Logan got him.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.”

  “We’ll practice some more. You’ll get better.”

  My heart warmed a little at his casual use of “we,” but I shook my head. “It’s not just that,” I said.

  Amory sighed. “You don’t like shooting, do you?” Although he’d phrased it as a question, I could tell he knew.

  “No, I don’t,” I confessed.

  He grimaced. “Yeah, me neither.”

  “Really?” I was genuinely surprised since he was such a good shot.

  Amory shook his head once. “No. But you do what you have to do these days.”

  The weight on my chest lightened.

  “Why don’t you like it?” I asked.

  His face darkened. “The same reason you don’t. You don’t like the thought that you could just end someone.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis, and I could hear the chill in his tone.

  “I guess that’s true,” I said. Now I really wanted to know if he’d ever killed anyone.

  “I think you should learn another weapon. You need to be able to shoot, too, but it might boost your confidence a little. You’re not documented anymore. There are all kinds of threats out there for people like us. You have to start thinking and training like a warrior.”

  “Today when I saw that carrier, I just froze,” I said. “If it came down to me shooting someone — something — I don’t know if I could.”

  “You would,” he said with certainty. “You attacked me when you thought I was one,” he laughed. “You don’t ever know what you’re capable of until it’s you and them and one of you has to die. Why don’t you ask Roman to show you how to use a knife?” He smirked. “The right way.”

  I made a face. “He hates me.”

  “Roman doesn’t like anyone, really. He tolerates you, which is something. He may come around eventually. But when it comes down to it, he’s the best with a knife that I’ve ever seen.”

  “Did he show you how to fight with a knife?”

  “No.” Amory grinned. “Roman’s never liked me. I think I might be the only person here he hates more than you. But I’ll tell you one thing: if it ever came down to me and a pack of carriers, I’d sure as hell want him with me.”

  I looked down, trying not to think about what would happen if another carrier invaded on one of my shifts.

  We made our way slowly around the perimeter of the woods, peering through the trees for any sign of movement. The trees were a brilliant fiery blaze of orange and red and gold — the intense spectrum of color you see right before they shed all their leaves for winter.

  My chest constricted with every snapping branch and crunch of leaves, and I wondered how I had spent so many days in these woods all alone. After my first encounter with carriers, I felt a new terror like an icy knot around my lungs that paralyzed me and choked all the air out.

  “Care to have another shot?” asked Amory.

  We were back by the lookout tree, the dummy target sagging comically to one side. So unlike the real thing, I thought.

  It wasn’t about wanting to shoot or liking it; I had to learn how to shoot better for my own survival and so I could protect the farm. I raised the shotgun, adjusted my aim down, and took in a breath.

  I fired.

  I lowered the gun and stared at the dummy, which quivered slightly as my slug sank into its sand-filled belly. I breathed out, unable to hold back my grin.

  “That’s how it’s done,” said Amory.

  I looked at him and saw a quick smile flash across his lips. My heart flipped, and I realized I hadn’t felt so happy in a long time. Not since —

  My stomach dropped as I remembered why I was there: Greyson.

  There I was shooting guns and making friends while he was locked up in some prison, or maybe worse.

  Amory sensed my change in mood.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  His eyes narrowed. “You look different now.”

  “I was just thinking about my friend Greyson — the one who was captured.”

  Amory nodded. “You’ll get to him. The rebels will come soon.”

  “That’s too long,” I said. “Who knows what they’re doing to him in that place!”

  I expected Amory to counter with some words of comfort, but he didn’t. “What’s your plan?” he asked. “I mean, let’s say you find him and somehow get him out of prison. Where will you go?”

  “West. That’s always been our plan.”

  He looked at me hard. “You really think there’s something out there.”

  Once again, he had posed a question that wasn’t really a question. He seemed intrigued by my optimism — my unfaltering belief in a place I’d never seen.

  “What would you do?” I asked. “Where else is there to go?”

  Amory looked surprised. “I don’t know. Most of the time, I just feel paralyzed,” he said, a flash of anger in his eyes. “Everything’s so fucked up. This place is kind of like limbo. We stay here, and we hide out from the PMC, but sometimes it just feels like we’re waiting here, hoping somebody will do something and it will all be over.”

  “I wish it were over,” I said. “I wish things would just go back to the way they were.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no going back.”

  I let his words sink in. He was right. Nothing would ever be the same as it was before the Collapse. Even if the PMC lifted the mandatory ID bill, ended mandatory migration, and cured all the carriers, it had left a trail of destruction in its wake. My parents would still be dead. There was no going back. I could only go forward.

  Max had outdone himself with dinner. Walking in the front door, my senses were assaulted by the delicious aroma of garlic, oregano, and basil wafting from a simmering pot of Max’s homemade tomato sauce. Eggplant parmesan was frying on the stove, and my mouth watered as he pulled a fresh loaf of garlic bread out of the oven.

  “Something smells good,” called Logan from the back porch. She came inside and shrugged off her jacket.

  “It�
��s your favorite,” said Max.

  I grinned at Logan, but she pretended not to see.

  “Where’s Roman?” he asked.

  Logan rolled her eyes. “Hauling the dead carrier as far off into the woods as he can carry it. Honestly, if he let me help him, we could be done by now. But he’s probably just going to sit out there all night waiting for the rest of them to show up.”

  “We’ll have to,” said Amory. “Especially now that they’re getting bold enough to attack during daylight. We can’t leave the post unattended, or we’ll all be vulnerable.”

  Logan fell silent. I knew she was thinking what I was thinking: What if she hadn’t seen that carrier?

  Despite the high level of trust and camaraderie required for life on the farm, I could tell that the constant threat of carrier invasions, the risk of PMC discovery, and the day-to-day struggle of survival made it difficult to maintain a cheerful atmosphere. Gentle ribbing could escalate into a full-blown screaming match, so Max’s sense of humor seemed just as valuable as Logan’s precision with a shotgun.

  After dinner, Amory left to join Roman for the overnight watch. He seemed on edge, and I knew it couldn’t be easy for him to fall asleep while Roman stood guard. Even though he didn’t like him, he had no choice but to trust him.

  Max flipped on the radio, and the three of us crowded around the table to listen.

  “. . . Several antigovernment rebel cells have been apprehended, but the Private Military Company believes some individuals may flee toward the northern border and attempt to cross without identification. The federal government urges American citizens: if you see something, say something. In other news, World Corp International —”

  “They’re not fleeing north!” said Max. “How stupid would you have to be?”

  “They’re scrambling,” murmured Logan. “The rebels must be out of control. It’s taken them a year to even acknowledge rebel cells working against the government.”