by Zoe Cannon
Chapter Seventeen
The news footage replayed silently in the background as Becca motioned Jared into her apartment.
“You saw it?” she asked after the door had closed behind him. There was no echo of her mother in her voice. Not anymore. Only a stranger, someone she had forgotten how to be. Someone ordinary. Weak. Broken.
Jared nodded. “I saw.” His face revealed nothing. No fear, no despair, no sign that he knew it was over. He crossed the room and sat at the edge of the couch, back straight, hands in his lap. Watching her. Waiting.
Waiting for her to be what he needed. Waiting for her to save the resistance.
Her throat closed. She looked away, not wanting to face the trust in his eyes.
“I’ll do anything the resistance requires,” said Jared, his voice as impassive as his face. “Just tell me how I can be of use.”
“The resistance is—” The last word caught in her throat. The resistance is gone. “We have days. Maybe less.”
She snuck a glance at Jared’s face. Still no reaction. Nothing but that same horrible trust.
“Tell me the plan,” he said. “Let me know what needs to happen, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Becca wrapped her arms around her midsection. Trying to calm her churning stomach, trying to hold herself together. One more word could break her in two. “You need to—” The words came out in a thready whisper. She stopped to clear her throat. “You need to run.” Still thin. Still weak. Still nothing like the leader he had come here expecting. “If you stay, you’ll be caught. If you run, you’ll have a chance. A small chance—but it’s better than nothing.”
Jared shook his head. “I’m not afraid to die for the resistance. I won’t abandon you. Tell me what you need—I’ll do whatever is necessary.”
She let her shaky legs give out from under her, let herself fold onto the couch beside him. “There is no plan.”
No reaction. The trust in his eyes didn’t waver.
Listen to me. Stop seeing what you want to see and listen. “The resistance is gone.”
No reaction.
Her stomach was a hard knot, the rest of her a shivering shell. “I’m sorry. If there were a way to save the resistance, I would do it. Whatever it takes. But I can’t lead you anymore. We aren’t going to win this.” The warmth running down her cheeks told her she had started crying again. She hadn’t thought there were any tears left in her. “The only thing you can do now is save yourself.”
Finally, something flickered in his eyes.
His jaw tensed. He lowered his head.
He didn’t say anything.
Seconds stretched into minutes as Becca waited for his response. As she waited for the note of betrayal in his voice, the shattering of the trust in his eyes.
But when he spoke, his voice remained even. “I’m not afraid to die for the resistance,” he repeated. “I won’t abandon you.”
He still didn’t get it. “You were always more loyal to me than anyone else,” she said. “More loyal than you should have been, maybe. But the leader you followed is gone. There’s nothing left for you to die for.”
Jared shook his head. “It was never about you. I followed you because I believed in your cause. And that hasn’t changed. It doesn’t matter whether we can win. I’m going to see this through.”
The sudden blur across her eyes had nothing to do with her exhaustion.
“You know they’ll find you.” It wasn’t a question.
He nodded. “I know.”
Still no fear in his voice. Still no despair.
After only a second’s hesitation, Becca took his hand in both of hers. His skin felt like a sun-warmed stone, rough and solid. Had she ever come this close to him before? She tried to remember a time, but came up blank.
“We did more than I ever imagined we could,” she said. “We saved more people than I could have hoped. And you’ve been part of it almost since the beginning. None of it would have been possible without you.” She squeezed his hands lightly before pulling away. “Thank you for everything.”
So subtly she almost missed it, the corners of his lips twitched upward—the closest thing to a smile she had ever seen from him. “Thank you for giving me the chance to fight.”
They sat together in silence for a moment.
There was nothing left to say.
She didn’t protest as he stood. Didn’t call after him as he strode to the door. Didn’t leap up from the couch to stop him, to block the exit until he agreed to at least try to save his own life.
She let him go.
* * *
One more thing left for Becca to do. One more thing, and then she could let go completely.
She left the apartment a few minutes after Jared. She sped along the downtown roads as quickly as she dared, as quickly as she could without drawing attention. If Internal had gotten there before her—if what she needed was already gone—
But no Enforcement vans waited outside the safehouse. Inside, nothing was out of place.
She didn’t allow herself time for relief. She grabbed the folded manila envelope from its hiding place and dashed back to the car before her luck could run out.
Almost done.
Back at her apartment, she checked and double-checked the contents of the envelope, making sure everything was still there. When she was satisfied, she took out her phone. She made a short call—ten seconds, nine words. Come to my apartment. I need to see you.
And she waited.
Almost done. Almost.
Micah arrived a few minutes later—his eyes as red as Becca’s, his face as composed as Jared’s. “I’m glad you called,” he said, slow and soft and still so calm. “I was hoping I would get a chance to see you one last time before—”
Becca held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t know how much time we have. Enforcement could be here any minute.” With her other hand, she pressed the envelope into his arms. “Everything you need is in here. Take it and go.”
A frown of confusion disrupted the serenity on his face as he took the envelope. “Everything I need?” He started to open it. “Everything I need for what?”
She batted his hand away. “Not here. There’s no time.” She tapped the envelope. “That’s your new identity. It probably won’t be enough—it’s a generic emergency ID, so it’s flimsy to begin with, and Internal already knows your face. But it will give you a chance.” She reached around behind him to open the door. “The sooner you leave, the better. Once the next round of arrests starts, security will get even higher.”
Micah pushed the door closed again.
When he turned back to face her, he looked equal parts bewildered and amused. “Becca… what makes you think I’m running?”
Becca blinked slowly, trying to process his words. But all the exhaustion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for the past year had begun to crash down on her at once. She couldn’t think. Do this one thing. Get him out of danger. Then you can rest. “You don’t have any reason to stay. Kara is gone—you can’t save her. You told me that yourself. You said you had accepted it.”
“I said I had accepted the consequences of what we did. I was talking about more than Kara’s arrest.” He held the envelope out to her. “I don’t need this. Whatever happens next, I’m ready.”
A year’s worth of exhaustion. A year’s worth of helplessness. “Just take it. Please.”
“No, Becca. I made my choice three years ago.”
Let me save you. You’re the only one left I can save. She couldn’t push back the fear this time. Couldn’t tell herself she felt nothing. It rose up in waves, closing over her head. She sucked in air. “These aren’t your consequences. This isn’t your fight. You never wanted to join the resistance. Three years ago all you wanted to do was help those kids—you didn’t want to have anything to do with the rest of it. You even defended Internal to me, remember? You insisted they weren’t all bad. And when you and Kara came back, you could have joined us along wit
h her if you had changed your mind. You didn’t.” Cutting off her airway. Filling her lungs. “There’s no reason you should die for something you never did.”
“Internal doesn’t care. You know that. To them, I’m a dissident like any other.”
“And so you’re just going to let it happen?”
“I don’t see what else there is to do.” The calm in his voice made her want to scream.
“You could try!” She shoved the envelope hard against his chest, bending it out of shape, crackling the papers inside. “I’m giving you a chance to live. Why won’t you take it?”
“I’ve accepted—”
“Stop talking about what you’ve accepted!” She didn’t try to suppress the shout. She didn’t think she could have if she had tried. “You said there was a difference between accepting something and giving up. Which do you think you’re doing right now?” Her voice, high and hysterical, cracked on every other word.
“And what about you?” asked Micah. “Will you run?” The look in his eyes told her he already knew the answer.
“That doesn’t matter. I’m not you.”
“Will you?” he persisted.
“I can’t lead the resistance anymore,” said Becca. “That doesn’t mean I’ll abandon them. And anyway, what would I do? Go hide out in some quiet corner of the country and try to ignore everything Internal does? I can’t do that. The resistance is what I am.”
“Do you think it’s any different for me?” asked Micah. “When I left the reeducation center with those kids, do you think I thought I could have a normal life again someday? I knew better than that. I turned my back on that possibility the moment I decided to help them.”
“So run. Find a way to keep on helping them. Don’t die for someone else’s cause.”
He shook his head. “I’m done, Becca.”
It’s his choice, whispered a voice in the back of her mind.
But he had a chance to survive this—a small chance, but a chance—and he was throwing it away.
He made the same choice you did.
But this wasn’t his fight.
You don’t have the right to stop him.
But he—she—
“I love you.”
She didn’t know she was going to say it until she heard herself speak.
Micah drew in a breath. Carefully, as if she might disappear, he reached out a hand toward her.
The leader of the resistance would have pretended nothing had happened. She would have crossed her arms and chilled her voice and ordered him to leave.
But she wasn’t the leader of the resistance anymore.
She took his hand.
“I love you,” she repeated, her voice louder this time but no less broken. “Don’t do this.”
Micah opened his mouth to speak—and froze.
A second later, she heard it.
The sound of a key turning in the lock.
Becca dropped her gaze from Micah to the door behind him. To the doorknob, slowly turning.
Enforcement.
They were out of time.
“Micah—” Why couldn’t you have run when I told you to? But it didn’t matter now.
There was nothing left to do.
Micah took a slow breath, his face pale. He gave her a shaky smile. “It’s okay.” He squeezed her hand as he shifted to stand beside her. “I’ll be right here with you.”
The door opened.
Heather stood in the hallway, bouncing on her toes, half her face swallowed by a grin.
“I did it.” Heather shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe her own words. “Becca—I did it.” Without warning, she lunged forward and, with a giddy laugh, nearly knocked Becca off her feet with a hug. “I can save you.”
* * *
“You’re not Enforcement.” It was all Becca could think of to say.
Heather pulled back just enough to look at Becca. She shook her head, still grinning. “Nope.” Her curls flew in all directions, tickling Becca’s face.
“They haven’t found me yet.” Becca couldn’t look away from the door, couldn’t stop waiting for the thud of their boots on the floor and the cold bite of their handcuffs around her wrists. Couldn’t make sense of what Heather was telling her.
“Are you even listening?” But Heather’s words didn’t have any bite to them. “They’re not going to find you ever.” With a final excited squeeze, she lowered her arms and took a step back.
The Enforcers aren’t here. They aren’t here. We’re safe.
Becca’s legs went rubbery as the adrenaline drained from her body. Her knees started to buckle; she caught herself against the arm of the couch.
She watched the door. Listened. No boots. No handcuffs.
They aren’t here.
Heather’s eyes widened as her gaze landed on Micah. “Wait.” A different kind of smile, one of recognition, spread across her face. “Are you who I think you are?”
“Heather.” From Micah’s voice, no one would ever have known that less than a minute ago they had thought their lives were over. “It’s good to see you again.” An answering smile played along his lips. “Especially considering the alternative.”
“You look…” Heather frowned in concentration as she studied him. “I don’t know. Different.”
“Three years on the run will do that.” He returned her scrutiny with a once-over of his own. “You look different too. Happier.”
“We’ll catch up later,” Heather promised. Another little bounce on the balls of her feet. “After all, it’s not like we don’t have time.”
They sounded too happy, too calm, when she and Micah should have been on their way to die by now. “We’re safe,” she said, trying to believe it.
“You’re safe,” Heather confirmed. “I promise.”
“And the resistance?”
Heather shrugged. “I couldn’t save you without saving them.”
A sharp stab of hope cut through Becca’s daze. No. Don’t let it in. It’s over. You’ve lost them. Accept it. She shook her head. “It’s too late. Internal arrested three core members last night. They know everything about the resistance, and once they’re interrogated, so will Internal.”
The sparkle in Heather’s eyes, the flush in her cheeks—Becca recognized that look from high school. It was the look Heather used to get whenever she knew a bit of gossip no one else had heard. “Then it’s a good thing they won’t be interrogated.”
Hope sliced into Becca again. “How?” Don’t let it in. Let go. Let go. “What did you… how did you…”
Heather turned to Micah. “You mind if I talk to Becca alone for a bit?” She shot him an apologetic look. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. But the more people know about this, the more danger everyone is in. If the wrong people find out…”
“You don’t need to apologize. I understand.” With a slight dip of his head, Micah disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom.
“Okay. Where do I start?” Heather flopped down on the couch. She motioned for Becca to join her as she bit her lip, thinking. “You know Investigation has been trying to get their reputation back ever since Milo framed your mom.”
Becca crossed the room on wobbly legs to sit beside Heather. She nodded.
“That’s what Vivian’s program was supposed to do,” Heather continued. “But Vivian shut it down early. After that, Investigation was going to look incompetent if Internal didn’t find all the dissidents—and even if they did, Processing would get the credit, because their interrogations would be responsible. At least that’s what the directors thought. So they didn’t actually shut the program down. Instead, they looked for someone to replace Vivian—and I had already laid the groundwork.”
Becca made a noise of acknowledgement. She didn’t mention their argument over it—her protests, Heather’s lies. Whatever she said now wouldn’t make a difference. And if it had worked—
Had it worked?
Had Heather really done it? Was the danger
really gone?
The resistance. Safe.
Her people. Safe.
It’s over. Let go. But she couldn’t stop the hope from fizzing through her body.
“They told me to find a way to make Investigation look responsible for bringing down your group. Whatever it took.” A dramatic pause. A mysterious smile. Dragging it out. Heather was enjoying this. “That’s when I came up with my plan.”
“What was the plan?” Becca’s impatience came through in her voice. Just tell me. These are my people’s lives you’re talking about.
“Hang on, I’m getting there.” Another deliberate pause. “I asked around—I was careful, don’t worry—until I found someone working in 117 who would help. He wants a high-level position in Investigation when all this is over, and I need what he can do for me.”
“Which is?”
“An interrogation.” Heather’s proud smile threatened to burst her cheeks. “We found someone who could pass for a plausible resistance leader. Not one of your people, don’t worry. Enforcement will arrest her tomorrow—and the directors will make sure everyone knows Investigation recommended the arrest.”
“A plausible resistance leader.” Becca’s hope began to curdle in her veins.
Heather nodded. “She’ll confess to everything. We came up with a list—all the supposed members of her group. He’ll make sure she names them all.”
A sour taste filled Becca’s mouth. “An innocent person.” No. Not just one. A whole list of them.
“No one will look any harder than that—they’ll think they have the entire resistance. We’ll make sure her confession is believable. We’ve written most of it already. And then Investigation gets to say that while Processing was wasting their time interrogating prisoners who didn’t know anything, Investigation found the person in charge.” She flashed Becca a triumphant grin. “Investigation gets to look good—and you get to stay alive.”
“Stop.” Becca rubbed her temples, trying to scrub away everything Heather had said. “Just stop talking. Please.”
Innocent people. Arrested, tortured, forced to confess to things they hadn’t done. Because of her.