“They want information,” Dennel says. “Kaleb was right: They’ll be on a witch hunt. We’ll have to do everything in our power to make them think we’re not only on their team, but key resources in their campaign.”
“I still don’t understand how this is going to help,” I recite for the tenth time.
His face darkens. “Do you want to see Kaleb or not?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Well, I don’t know if this will help either, but I know it will get you in to see him. If they think you’re useful, they’ll use you. Once you’re in, you’re trusted, we can work on a strategy.”
He grasps my arms, pupils piercing mine. “Before we go any further I have to know something. Are you in love with him?”
I swallow. I am. Definite fact, but I’m not sure it would come out of my mouth even if I allowed it.
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
I shake my head. “No, I am.”
He studies me, and I’m not sure why I can’t say it with confidence. Maybe because I can’t bring myself to admit something so precious to another person before Kaleb has the chance to absorb it. But I will be telling him. I decide right then that nothing is going to stop me from finally giving him the truth. Fact.
My feet swing in a syncopated rhythm, and I love the feel of their winged freedom before they crash into the brick beneath us. Kaleb shoots me an exasperated look, and I giggle out an apology.
We’re seated on the ledge of a low ornamental wall surrounding barren earth behind 9B. Lunch is the excuse, but I knew from the tired smile that greeted me this morning that it would be a “break” day.
“What’s the point of this random wall anyway?” I ask through a mouthful of sandwich. I’m curious, but I’m mostly interested in the light in Kaleb’s eyes when his mind takes on a challenge. It’s impossible not to be trapped on the rare occasions his radiance leaks out. My pursuit of those moments isn’t even conscious anymore.
“It’s only random now because the context is gone.”
“Only you could get philosophical about a wall.”
“Hey, you asked the question.”
We exchange a grin. If we were in the office right now I’d nestle against him, absorbing that smile with other senses. Touch. Taste. But we’re coworkers out here. Soldier and captive.
“Okay, I’m assuming you know the original ‘context’ of this wall then?”
“I do.”
“And?”
He shrugs, and this time I can’t resist a playful shove into his shoulder. I love his eyes in the sunlight. Blue specks hidden in the pool of green come to life when the sun catches his irises. I’ve never seen anything like it and find myself searching for a filament or some explanation for the curious effect.
“This wall would have overlooked a lawn. Probably some nice landscaping over there, and maybe tables or something there. Mostly this was an open space where the students would have gathered.”
“And did what?”
“Anything. Talked, studied, played games, enjoyed the fresh air. Whatever they wanted to do in their free time.”
Free time? I stare at the carpet of brown grass but have trouble forming an image. “So the wall?”
“Would have been perfect with hanging flowers and mulch around it. It probably would’ve been lined with students talking and reading too.”
“And eating lunch.”
I get my glow. “And eating lunch.”
I study the dusty ground. “I guess it wasn’t built to guard a dirt patch filled with shell casings, then?”
That grin. “Most likely not.”
“Kaleb, what would you have studied in college?”
“Hmm.” His eyes narrow as he surveys the evidence of lost memories. Even slanted in concentration I can see the shimmer of blue sparks that will disappear the second we leave our outdoor oasis. “Girls probably?”
I laugh and shove him again.
“Andie! What’s going on with you? You were a mess yesterday. Then skipped breakfast this morning, now dinner. Are you ever going to eat again?” Vi asks after we’re tucked safely in our rooms for the night.
Frosty air filters through my lungs, that scent of history mixed with disinfectant. I look into her eyes, searching for something. Sincerity maybe? I’m not sure I can afford another ally, but it’s too much to block from the only candidate. Vi is a hard woman—and genuine. Her inner circle may be tiny, but it’s ironclad, and I need her in mine.
“It’s Kaleb.”
“What’s wrong? Is he okay? Is this about that transfer?”
I bite my lip. Instinctive tears climb into my throat again, but I can’t let that happen right now. I need to earn a warrior not a hug.
“Worse. It’s a long, awful story, but the short version is he’s been arrested.” I fight to force out the rest. “He’s going to be interrogated and tried for treason.”
“Treason?” she gasps, and I fire a warning glance.
She lowers her voice. “How is that possible? There’s no way he’s a traitor.”
“Of course not. He’s not …”
I sigh when it becomes obvious there’s no way to ease into this story.
“Vi, I’m going to trust you with something. I need you to promise that you’ll keep it confidential. Kaleb would kill me if he knew I told anyone else, but I trust you and he needs your help.”
She nods, her dark eyes wide with worry.
I drop beside her on the edge of her bed and listen for confirmation we’re alone.
“Okay. So you know how Kaleb has a prosthetic limb?”
Vi takes the story well. Better than I did. She’s all strength where I’m all screw up.
I leave out the part where I told him to turn himself in. It’s irrelevant why he finally did it, and the result is the same. I don’t need Vi to resent me when I’ve got that more than covered.
“What now?” she asks. “We’re going to get him out, right?” Her confidence always finds doors in walls.
“We don’t know yet. Sergeant Dennel thinks we can use the fact that the higher-ups trust me and already expect my involvement. Heck, they formally asked for it.”
“You’re going to play both sides. A double agent,” she concludes with a smile.
I return it. My warrior-roommate, ready for ass-kicking. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it, but since we don’t actually have a plan beyond that, it might be overstating it a bit.”
“Well, you might not have a plan, but your first task is pretty clear.”
She cocks her head at my blank stare.
“Andie, come on. Obviously, he needs to know you’re on his side. If you’re going to be a double agent, he has to know you’re working for him by working against him. If you don’t tell him, he’s going to think you’ve turned and give up when you need him to hang on long enough for us to get him out. Your first step is to draw the line in the sand.”
It is obvious. And yet, no, it hadn’t occurred to me. In fact, it hadn’t occurred to me to start with anything. Those walls? I usually see reinforced steel and barbed wire. I’m beginning to think she’s more valuable than I am.
“Right, yeah, of course. Dennel is trying to get me in to see Kaleb.”
“How many double agents can play themselves on both sides?”
She’s not wrong. It’s a great point.
It’s three days later when I get the call.
Dennel learns that after Kaleb’s initial cooperation, he’s had very little to say. They’re eager to move forward with the investigation, and believe I hold some key to the vault.
I cast a nervous scan over the visitation room. Cameras in the upper corners of the walls watch my every move, prepare to record our words, our reactions. They’ll be searching for clues, hints that t
ell the story they want to believe, and my hope bleeds into panic. I’d intended to come and apologize, set the record straight. My first order of business seemed so simple: make him understand how much I love him. How easy that would have been in the small administrative office of 9B.
But now, stuck behind enemy lines, my love is irrelevant. His salvation depends on my ability to lie.
The sudden click of the door sends my pulse into a thud. I fight for composure, braced for the appearance of the guard but not the prisoner who follows. A thin white t-shirt and linen pants do nothing to disguise the young man’s slow limp and shackled hands. His head hangs low and another guard nudges him forward with the butt of a gun. Such a damn cliché, yet it’s still a shock that eviscerates me.
I catch the prisoner’s interest with a violent scrape of my chair, barely breathing as his startled expression searches for me. The air stops when his eyes melt into a sadness.
Oh god, his face.
I suck in more oxygen as they lead Kaleb to the table and shove him into the chair. After attaching his shackles to a hook on the table, the love of my life is officially in my custody.
“You have ten minutes. We’ll be watching through the glass. If you have any trouble just send the signal.”
I swallow my anger and manage to retract my claws as they exit the room.
My focus returns to the prisoner, and the silence stings as his eyes venture to mine. Seconds, minutes. I’ve lost any concept of time beneath his haunted gaze, drawn into his pain with a force that knocks all planning from my head.
His face is a mess. Deep bruises surround his left eye, which is almost swollen shut. A split in his bottom lip appears older, but the reddish-purple mass protruding from his right cheek is fresh. Yet it’s the red rings on his wrists that hit me hardest. Evidence of a desperate struggle in the exposed skin when he nervously adjusts the position of the cuffs.
Fact: He’s not cooperating anymore.
“I can’t believe they let you in here,” he says finally.
I swallow the sudden rush of tears at his familiar voice. Deep, raw. I was so ready for this, so prepared to come in here and play the hero. Then he speaks and reminds me of all that we’ve lost. All that I’ve done to him. All that I will do in an effort to save him.
“They just want the truth, Kaleb. I’m sure they don’t want to hurt you. You need to work with them.”
He breaks away, and the pain in his eyes is worse than the wounds on his face. Tears escape me now, and I swipe at molten evidence, hoping my cover as a concerned girlfriend who wants what’s best for this prisoner is enough to hide the fact that I’m a concerned girlfriend who wants to kill them all.
He’s looking at me, studying my grief, and I wonder at his analysis. I’d do anything to be back in his office. To talk freely and explain without the risk of him reading anything but my regret, my love. God, I just want to touch him again.
“Kaleb…” I’m not ready for this. I thought I was. Dennel and I had practiced, but there’s no preparation for this reality.
I love you, Kaleb. I love you so much. Look at me. Show me that you know that. Show me you understand!
“Have they replaced me in 9B?” he asks. “Are you teaching the new person all about RP-7s?”
He looks so tired. I wonder when he last slept. What are they doing to you? “Not yet. They’ve permanently reassigned me to laundry now.”
His scabbed lips crack into a smile. “Laundry. Your worst nightmare.”
I try to return it but my own mouth won’t move. My worst nightmare. The hidden tears threaten, right at the surface, waiting for the slightest provocation. I clear my throat.
“It’s not so bad. One of my roommates is on laundry duty too. Did you know she plays the ukulele?”
He releases another twist of amusement. “I didn’t know that. I’m sure there are a lot of things about each other you don’t know. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. When I left I was worried…” When he left? This conversation is bullshit.
“I’m okay, Andie.”
I bite my lip. He’s not okay. He’s so far from okay, but there’s nothing we can do about it. I thought I could stop it. All those grand plans to march in here and leave with a brilliant strategy. Instead, here’s my evidence of how I showed my love. Those bruises are on me. I don’t care what Dennel says.
I didn’t want this. I didn’t mean for you to do this. I’m sorry. So sorry!
I force an awkward smile that he returns.
I love you. So much. Kaleb, please. Know how much I love you!
The words are bashing against my skull. There are so many things I can’t say as he sits inches away, and I fight a scream of frustration.
My brain summons Vi. She’d have a million ideas right now. Totally annoyed at my incompetence. But I can’t be incompetent. Kaleb needs me to be Vi-strong. He needs me to think. Think!
“You look like you’ve spent the day on a battlefield.” Maybe channeling her will help. He catches on, and I’m rewarded with a grin. A masterpiece this time.
“Yeah, this is becoming a regular look for me.”
“What happened?”
His eyes shift. I expected as much, but I’m curious about the cover story.
“It was stupid. Some guys were giving me a hard time at breakfast this morning.”
I nod, restraining my skepticism. “You’ve been spending time with the other prisoners then?”
He won’t even look at me now. No way he’s seen anyone except his interrogators. “Prison life.”
I examine his hands, his wrists, brand new marks hiding old scars. I want to test our audience and reach for his fingers, squeezing so he finds me again.
It’s all on display. My entire story for him and anyone else who’s watching. My regret. My despair. My love. But it’s not enough. It’s a terrifying feeling not knowing what he sees when he looks at me. The thought that we’ll part even further from the truth than when we started.
“Have you remembered anything new?” A question for them. I will him to glance at the cameras, prove he’s discovered my game, but his eyes only sink to the table.
“No.”
“But if you just—”
“Andie, stop. Is that why you came here?”
No!
He finally acknowledges the cameras, but the timing is wrong now. “I’m guessing they sent you.”
My nerves are raw, muscles clenched. Lies bleeding out in useless determination.
“I wanted to come. I want to help.”
“Right.” We stare at the metal on his wrists.
“At least let me—”
“Thank you, Andie. It means a lot that you came, but you don’t belong here, okay?”
It’s his eyes pleading with me now. His unspoken message filling the void between us. His attempt to clear mistakes and reset our course. This is all wrong!
My hands tremble from the need to touch him. I don’t care about the audience. I slide my foot under the table, resting it against his. Stolen contact outside the intrusion of cameras. He closes his eyes at the pressure of my shoe on his ankle, and his chest expands in an effort to compose himself.
I clasp my hands above the table to prove I’m not embracing him beyond their line of sight. That I’m fine with all of this.
Andie Sorenson, liar.
What about Andie Sorenson, savior?
I have a mission, one goal, and none of us can afford another screw up on my part. Yes, that means I’m long past clever and straight into absurd at this point.
“Remember how I told you about my pop star dream?”
“Yes?” he answer-asks, squinting at me.
“Well, I’ve been practicing one for you.”
“What?”
I don’t wait for him to interpret my puzzle and jump to my feet. I mo
ve around the table so he can see me in all my terrible, heartfelt glory, and launch into a song. Horrible as it is, I add an awful dance to match. The only thing worse than my singing is my dancing, and I edge closer and closer to him with each wacky move in the routine.
I stumble on the leg of the table, falling directly toward his chair. He pushes back to catch me, but the restraints jerk him into reality. It doesn’t matter. My plan didn’t involve a rescue, and I direct my fall to catch myself on his shoulders. My lips come to rest against his ear.
“I love you. We’re getting you out,” I whisper while pretending to steady myself. I straighten with a humiliated giggle. “Okay, so my routine still needs some work.” By now the guards have invaded, clearly concerned about my outburst. I wonder if they think I’m drunk or just nuts. Either way, they take no chances and suggest it’s time to end this interview.
I put up a mild protest for show, but really, I have hidden relief to carry back with me. It hadn’t been pretty, but I know it was good enough when my eyes connect with Kaleb’s and confirm he heard every word.
Staff Sergeant Henry waits for me just outside the interview room. I force away panic at the clink of metal announcing Kaleb’s return to captivity and search for a fact.
Dennel is not part of this meeting. That’s a fact.
“A dance routine? Interesting approach,” Henry comments as I follow him to another room.
“It wasn’t an approach. He looked so sad. I was trying to cheer him up.”
“Did we misjudge you, Ms. Sorenson? We called on you because we thought you had the best handle on Lance Corporal Novelli. You do understand the gravity of the situation, don’t you?”
I nod, this time drawing on some tears for good measure. It’s not hard when they’ve become a permanent fixture behind my eyes.
“I’m sorry. Seeing him like that… I didn’t know what to say.”
“So you chose to sing and dance?”
“I just… panicked, I guess.”
Henry softens as he considers my explanation. “You’ve never been in a prison before, have you?” And I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s choosing forgiveness over Cell Block B.
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