by Jamie Canosa
That’s when everything spirals out of control. People are talking over one another, arguing, shouting . . . then the insults start flying. It’s like a freaking zoo. Peter holds it together longer than most, but somewhere around the time the insults start coming my way, even he loses his temper. The only one who seems immune to the insanity is Allan, who’s just sitting back and watching it all unfold with a very intense look on his face.
“All right, everyone shut up!” Allan’s deep voice booms so loudly above the others that it stuns us all into silence. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to put someone in charge here, or we’re just going to keep talking in circles and never get anywhere.”
“It should be Kaleigh.” Julie doesn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus.
I’m so shocked to hear my name that I’m certain I must have heard her wrong. “What?”
“They already think you’re in charge of all of this, anyway.”
They do? Who does? What? I don’t have to actually ask any of these questions because I’m sure they’re all clearly written on my face, and Connor’s amusement tells me none of this is news to him.
“Girlie, you seriously live in a state of denial. Of course they think you’re in charge.”
Yeah, sure. Right. Of course. If anything, I’d say Connor’s had more of a leadership role than I have. I’ve intentionally been trying to stay in the background of all of this.
“She’s just a kid, what the hell does she know about leading a rebellion?” Jacob sounds provoked by the very idea.
“Enough to get one started. Enough to do more than anyone else ever has,” Lori argues.
Yeah, that didn’t require any actual knowledge, skills, or planning. It really just involved an unfortunately good reaction time, but I doubt any of them are interested in hearing the particulars.
“There are more qualified people here than a . . .”
“Not if the qualifications include people actually listening to you.” As unwanted as Lori’s support is, I’m very glad Jacob didn’t finish that sentence. I might’ve had to hit him, or Peter might have from the look of him, or Connor . . . Wow, that guy really is an idiot. “All of those people out there, all of them, want to know what she thinks. They don’t give a damn about our ideas, and they’re not interested in forming their own opinions. They’ve already decided that they trust her to do what’s best for them.” Lori finishes with a pointed look at Jacob.
What the hell planet have they been living on? I haven’t done a single thing right. How could they possibly trust me? I don’t trust me.
“That’s why it should be her,” Julie agrees, enthusiastically. That girl has way too much pep. “If we want everyone out there to go along with our decisions, they have to believe they’re her decisions, or at least that she supports them. Lori’s right, they trust her. They’ll listen to her.”
“Why don’t we vote on it,” Peter offers.
Without hesitation, Julie, Connor, Peter, Lori and, surprisingly, Allan’s hands go up in favor of my new position of power. Note, my hand stays firmly planted at my side. Slowly other hands rise until only Jacob and I are in opposition to the idea, but it’s not enough to stop this from happening.
“That’s the majority.” Connor sounds victorious, like he was the one just voted head honcho. I wish he were.
“All right, Leigh, lead us.” The smirk on Peter’s face is really making me want to smack him. If we were alone, I would. I’ll have to remember that for later.
“Fine.” I make no attempt to disguise my annoyance. “Jacob and Kyle, you disagree with the plan. Why don’t you tell us your concerns one at a time, and we can address them as a group until we can all agree? How does that sound?”
“It sounds much better than a shouting match.” I get the impression that a compliment from Allan is something to be savored. He doesn’t seem the type to throw them around often.
Peter nudges my shoulder, and smiles his approval when I glance up at him. Look at me, apparently I can do something right.
Kyle and Jacob lay out several good points in favor of us not attacking the other camp, and one by one the others shoot them down. I don’t say anything, I just listen. It takes hours, but by the end, even those two are in agreement that this is our best course of action. That just leaves the details to work out. Easier said than done.
A half dozen arguments later, one which almost led to Jacob punching Allan, we finally agree on when we should attack, and how many people we should send from each group. Evidently, running a rebellion is similar to running of a kindergarten classroom. I’m completely exhausted from trying to keep people calm and controlled, especially when I was close to hitting a few people myself.
“You did great, Girlie.” Connor catches up with me as I drag myself back to the dorms. He looks as tired as I feel.
“I’m just glad no one left with any permanent injuries.” Connor chuckles, but honestly, I was only half joking.
I only hope that the workers don’t rebel against us once they hear this plan. Drew Reynolds, here we come.
Chapter 27
I stand on the metal grating between the engine and the first passenger car. It’s funny, I remember the day I left colony D for the first time, and those guards offered me a ride in that blue pickup truck. The idea of traveling at forty miles an hour had horrified me, and here I stand now, watching the scenery blur past me at nearly twice that speed, and it feels better than sitting inside one of those stuffy train cars. Out here it feels more . . . dangerous, a more appropriate way to travel to our particular destination. It makes me feel more alert. Inside, I was becoming so complacent that I was in danger of nodding off, and napping with a gun tucked into my waist band does not sound like a great idea.
The harsh wind whips my hair in front of my face. I’ve long since given up trying to fight it. Fall will be here soon, and the air has a distinct chill to it. It’s slowly been sinking into my bones over the past hour out here. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to stand it, but it becomes a non-issue when I feel the train’s speed shift under my feet. We’re beginning to slow.
There’s another shift in speed just as I stumble through the heavy metal door, nearly sending me to the floor for my grand entrance. Now there’s a way to inspire confidence. Everyone must have noticed our deceleration because they’re all climbing to their feet and doing last minute checks of their weapons. Connor’s already positioned himself near one of the exits. Peter must be in another car.
“Why don’t you wait here, Girlie? We’ll let you know when we have Reynolds.”
There’s about a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening, and I tell him so.
“Fine,” he sighs, but I can see the amused twinkle in his eye, “just be careful out there, all right?”
“You too.” It’s not exactly like he’s some trained soldier, either.
Any second now, we’re going to pull up to the camp, and then all hell’s going to break loose. I wonder if they see us coming yet. Will we take them by surprise, or will we not even have that advantage? The train shifts again, slower . . . rolling . . . stopped. It’s time.
Everyone piles off of the train at once. The gate is less than thirty yards from us. I guess we did manage to maintain at least some surprise. The first shots definitely come from our side of the fence, and a few guards go down immediately. After that, it’s pure chaos. Shots are flying in every direction. Three towers are still manned by guards armed with rifles, and all of the soldiers on the ground seem to have hand guns as well. I wonder if they’ve always carried those, or if the increased security is a recent development.
The sound of a bullet whizzing past sends me diving sideways. The rough ground scrapes my palms, and I brush loose gravel from them as I regain my feet. There’s very limited coverage here, nowhere to hide. If we can’t end this fast, we’re going to be in trouble. Think. The workers seem to have figured out what’s happening. I can see at least a dozen of them taking dow
n a couple of guards. Inside the fence, the camp is in complete disarray. Our problem is the towers.
“Aim for the towers!” I shout as loudly as I can to anyone who may be listening. “Take out the towers.”
The odds of me hitting someone thirty feet up in the air with a handgun are zilch, but I try anyway. The best thing I can probably do is get other people aiming in the right direction, so I keep shouting as I shoot. A guard crumples in one of the towers. Two left.
I take aim at the closest tower and start firing again. As I expected, I hit nothing, but someone else does, and the guard falls over the railing, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. One left. Only one more, but I’m too far away to have any effect on that one at all. I focus my attention back inside the fence.
The handguns have given the guards a definite advantage over the unarmed workers, but some of them have been taken out by sheer force. Bullets are still flying and bodies continue to drop all over the camp: mostly workers. We need to get inside before this turns into a total bloodbath.
Others join me as I charge the gates. They’re locked, of course, but it’s nothing a well-placed bullet can’t handle. Even I can make that shot. The gate swings open, and we start pouring inside. Suddenly faced with a fair fight, several guards surrender immediately. Apparently the cowards can only shoot unarmed opponents.
Another bullet flies past me, just missing my head, but the guy behind me isn’t as lucky. With a gut wrenching sound the bullet collides with his forehead almost directly between the eyes, and he drops to the ground in a heap. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest, and I can feel my blood beginning to boil. With both hands wrapped around the grip, I lift the gun away from me and steady it. The guard is just lining up his next shot.
We stand there, no more than five feet apart, aims locked on each other. All the noise and action around us seems to fade away until I’m pretty sure we’re the last two people left on the planet. It’s so quiet that I can hear the sound of his bullet clicking into place. Any moment, he’ll pull that trigger, and I’ll die. I pull the trigger first. The sound of the bullet exploding out of the barrel shatters our private world. As the guard drops to the ground, the rest of creation comes racing back to me. All the sounds, the people, the utter anarchy all around me. My stomach clenches tight, and I have to fight back the urge to hurl. It was him or me. If I didn’t shoot first he would’ve killed me. He would have killed me. I had to do it. I had to.
Sucking in a deep breath, I force myself to remain calm, and examine what’s happening around me. The last tower is empty. I don’t know if the guard was shot or just surrendered. The sound of gunfire is quieting. From what I can see, it looks like only a few guards are still armed on the ground. They don’t stand a chance, but they’re refusing to surrender. They get off maybe five more rounds between them before all three of them are dropped.
The quiet that follows is almost deafening. There are bodies strewn all over the ground. Some workers, some guards. I just hope none of them is Reynolds. Lots of people are wandering around aimlessly, while others try to round them up and direct them to the train. Most of them look like they’re in shock.
“We found him.” Allan’s holding onto a short, balding man with a pot belly.
Not what I’d imagined. The mental image I associated with Drew Reynolds had turned into a giant of a man, with pure muscle, and a scar across his face. I have absolutely no idea why. Jacob is helping Allan restrain the barely struggling man and looking like he’s enjoying it all a little too much.
“Where do you want him?”
I scan the immediate area. There’s a small structure, maybe registration, nearby. “In there.”
They manhandle him into the building where Connor orders them to secure him. Allan and Jacob force Reynolds into a chair and tie his arms together with some rope they got from who knows where. He doesn’t even look scared.
“Drew Reynolds?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Yes, and you are?”
“That’s not important.” Peter steps in, and I’m relieved to see he’s still in one piece. “We’re talking to you, not her.”
Beside me, Connor shifts the gun in his hand to punctuate the point. I think Reynolds gets it, I’m just not sure he cares.
“What do you want from me?”
“We want your help.” I figure it’s best to just lay it out there. “It’s pretty simple, you help us all go free without any strings attached, and we won’t kill you.”
I have to admit, the response I get isn’t even close to anything I expected. He doesn’t cry or beg or even flat out refuse us. He laughs. Connor presses the barrel of his gun to Reynolds’ forehead, and my entire body tenses. Inexplicably, Reynolds only laughs harder.
“You think I can help you? I can’t help you, no one can.”
“Don’t lie. We’ve seen your name on all of the reports. You run these camps. We know you do.” Making Connor angry right now is probably not in this guy’s best interest. “I swear, you will help us, or I will pull this trigger.”
“I only manage the camps. I don’t own them, and I’m far from irreplaceable. No one will give a damn, you threaten me.” Well, crap.
“So who does own these camps?” I feel like we’re going around in circles here.
“Well, that’s the million dollar question, now, isn’t it?”
I already know the damn question. It’s the answer I want, and if this guy doesn’t give it up soon, I won’t be held responsible for Connor’s actions. He’s growing irate the longer Reynolds stalls, and his trigger finger is starting to look a little itchy.
“Have you ever heard of William Perman?” Reynolds hedges.
Perman, why does that sound familiar? “Perman . . . as in Permatech?”
“Exactly!”
Look at me, I can connect the dots. Only I still have no idea what the picture is.
“William Perman ran one of the largest, most successful companies in the country back before the war. He had his fingers in just about everything. Mainly oil, but all sorts of other things, too.”
“Okaaaay . . . can we get to the point sometime today, maybe? We’re not here for a history lesson.”
“When the world went to hell and the rest of the country was panicking, William Perman was still thinking like the business man he was. He grabbed up all of the remaining land that still yielded any viable resources. And do you know what he built on that land?”
“Work camps.” Things are starting to click into place.
“Two for two, smart girl.” Patronizing jackass. He’s lucky I don’t have a gun in my hand at the moment. “When things finally settled back down, Permatech was still on top. Perman went into negotiations with the government. The President at the time agreed to supply Perman with a free labor force of prisoners in exchange for him sharing his resources with the rest of us, for a price, of course.”
I let this all sink in for a few silent moments. What kind of person do you have to be to do something like that? “So who runs Permatech now?”
“William’s heir. His great, great grandson, or something like that . . . Robert Perman.”
“Well, then that’s who we’re going to have to talk to,” Connor states plainly.
“Good luck with that,” Reynolds laughs. He actually laughs. Unbelievable.
I can feel the slow burn of anger beginning deep in my gut, and I can see it clear as day written all over Connor’s face. Reynolds must have some kind of serious death wish.
“And why is that?” barks Jacob.
I was so worried about Connor that I completely forgot about the psychopath in the room. I’m actually surprised this is the first we’ve heard from him. Peter takes a quick step toward Jacob. He’s as worried about his sanity as I am.
“Because you’ll never find him. No one knows where he lives, or even where Permatech itself is located. I’ve run these camps for him for thirty years, and I’ve never met the guy.”
R
eynolds is laughing again, and I’ve had enough. I really don’t want to stand here and watch while either Connor or Jacob loses it on him. I wrack my brain for anything else important to ask but come up blank. What I really want to do is wipe that smug grin off his face. Instead, I drag myself outside, away from his grating voice.
“You all right, Girlie?” Connor catches up with me near the fence.
“Fantastic.”
“It’s not exactly encouraging, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.” He always has to look on the bright side of things. I don’t know how he doesn’t get blinded by the sun. “Unfortunately, I think he’s telling the truth. I don’t think there’s anything else our friend Drew can do for us.”
“Just let him go . . . and don’t let Jacob get anywhere near him.”
Connor goes to deal with Reynolds, leaving me on my own. I wander around the quiet camp for a while. Almost everyone has boarded the train already, preparing for the trip back to L. Reynolds may have been a flop, but at least we’ve managed to free another camp’s worth of workers . . . for now, anyway. Without Reynolds’ help, who knows what kind of future we’ve signed them and ourselves up for? Connor thinks this is a step in the right direction, but what direction is that? Now what are we supposed to do? Once again we’re back to the endless freaking question of, now what?
Chapter 28
Now what? That question has plagued me all the way back to L, and I still don’t have an answer to it. We’re running seriously low on options here. Hiding? Fail. Negotiations? Fail. Fighting? Well, okay that one seems to be working for us so far, but to what end? I’m just not sure what larger numbers are going to do for us. I’m not even sure liberating workers is a good thing anymore. What’s going to happen to them once they’re liberated? They’ll share in whatever our fate is, and that’s not looking too promising at the moment.