I’m still trying to process the latest one. Emery showed us both communications right before we left. The first to refresh my memory and introduce Vi to the situation. The second to make sure we had every possible clue for our mission. I kind of wish she hadn’t. In some ways the rebels’ eerie gentleness in the latest video was more disturbing than their violence. I go numb at the memory of Kaleb’s expression as they treated his wounds, assuring the camera that they’d do a better job of keeping him stable this time. The implication was clear: There’s no benefit to torturing a dead man.
“Did you see the window?” Vi asks, drawing me back.
“The window?”
“In the first one. Behind Kaleb you could see a water tower.”
“Does that mean something to you?”
“If they truly are in Zone 492 they have to be in an industrialized sector. There are no water towers for residential use in 492.”
I’m grateful one of her secrets includes intimate knowledge of 492. “Why didn’t you mention it to Henry and Emery? That would have narrowed down the search considerably. Maybe they would have had enough to go on. There can’t be many industrialized sectors in 492 with a water tower.”
She quiets, and I grow uneasy. “You actually trust them? You actually think they don’t know that?”
My lungs empty in an anxious sigh. Frustration that after everything I’ve been through, I’m still as naïve as the day I entered 9B.
I feel her looking at me.
“You know, Andie. Deep down, you do.”
I bite my lip, soak my tongue in the iron tang of blood.
“You know,” she repeats. Not harsh, but firm because it’s time for me to wake the fuck up.
“Someone let the rebels have him. The leak is still there. It’s not Dennel,” I say, and Vi seems relieved. No one wants to be the strongest link on a mission.
“Well, if Dennel is one of them, he isn’t the one they’re looking for,” she says.
I stop as the ground becomes unsteady. Gravel shifts beneath my feet, and Vi grabs my arm.
“You okay?”
“Fine. You think the real leak was trying to get rid of Kaleb and pin it on Dennel at the same time?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that a prisoner doesn’t get marched out of a military prison without someone’s blessing. My money is on Emery.”
I consider her statement, replaying details of the last few weeks.
“In the footage, the masked rebel referred to her directly. I remember thinking it strange, like it was personal.”
“I noticed that too,” Vi says.
“So the videos weren’t ransom notes,” I conclude, and Vi huffs.
“Not unless they were the stupidest kidnappers of all time.”
“Then what were they?”
Vi shrugs. “Messages for the spy, maybe? Messages for someone, anyway.”
A memory thunders through my head, and I choke on my next breath. “Vi, Kaleb’s father was military royalty. Supposedly, his father is dead, but what if he’s not?”
Vi’s eyes turn on me in surprise, and I give her a moment with my revelation. “You think he might be the leak?”
I rack my brain for more memories I’m not sure are there. “I don’t have any reason to think that, except, why else would Kaleb hold out?”
Vi quiets, and I grow nervous at her silence. Finally, she clears her throat. “I think we both know Kaleb didn’t tell them everything.”
“I’m sure he didn’t, but—”
“If he knew more than he let on, maybe there’s a reason the footage seemed so personal, their violence. Maybe it’s not a coincidence Kaleb is caught up in all of this. He’s not a random victim.”
The footage. I remember sensing the same thing. This whole drama seemed off. I’ve always felt the secrets everywhere, that pieces were missing or shoved into the wrong spaces. Was Kaleb a specific target after all? Was his fate sealed by something outside of either of us? Is Emery the leak? But that doesn’t make sense. Why would her own people publicly call her out in the video?
Why… unless the video wasn’t a warning but a message like Vi had said.
Possible fact: Kaleb is being sacrificed for someone else’s treason.
My heart pounds again. I shake my head. No. No!
“Andie, what is it?”
I’m hesitant to burden her with my theory. It’s too absurd, but I don’t have a choice. Maybe she’ll be willing to accept the hard truth I can’t.
“He knows, Vi. I can’t explain it, but he understood what was happening to him. And he was protecting me from it.”
His loyalty seems to be to his principles above all else. That’s what made him a traitor. An enemy to everyone and no one.
“Okay, so why would the rebels take him as leverage?” Vi asks.
“Because he knows the real leak.”
The thought settles around us as we trudge through the waning night.
“His superiors were right to believe he learned more than he let on the first time he was taken,” Vi continues.
“So the rebels took Kaleb to protect the identity of their asset.”
“He wasn’t supposed to survive. When he did, their spy was in danger.” Vi stops. “And the message? If the rebels are trying to protect themselves, why shine a spotlight with the videos?”
It’s a good point. Thanks to all these non-facts, we now have opinions obstructing our path.
You make tough soldiers, Emery.
You don’t know who I am, what I am to them.
What are you, Kaleb? Why didn’t you just explain it to me when you had a chance? I hate you for protecting me!
My accusations turn from Kaleb back to Emery. Something else about that masked rebel’s taunt chilled my blood. The careful resolve on the Captain’s face as though she were being careful not to react.
“If the government forces know where he is, but don’t care, that means this entire mission, sending us out, is just a ploy to get rid of me too.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because they knew I wouldn’t let Kaleb go.”
Vi grunts. “Well, they’re getting rid of both of us then. We’re probably not supposed to survive this.”
“If you suspected that, why did you agree to come with me?”
“Of course I’d go with you. I don’t belong in 9B either.”
“Are you a rebel too?” It’s the question in my head since the day we met.
“I’m no one. I have no interest in this war. But I care about Kaleb and like the idea of not being a prisoner of either side. When they signed me up for a ticket to freedom that involves helping one of the few decent people left in this shithole, of course I’m in.”
It’s a long walk to Zone 398. We gain momentum once lights illuminate our path after crossing Route 33. We move even faster when the sun erupts over the horizon. I try to absorb as much as I can of our surroundings, having seen very little outside my own zone before this journey. Funny how it took war and captivity to be freer than I’ve ever been, and I find each new sight fascinating.
“Vehicle!” Vi hisses. “Hide or be caught?”
My pulse pounds at our three seconds to decide. “Be caught. We’re looking for shelter, right?”
“Yep.”
We maintain our positions on the side of the road as the jeep slows to a stop. Two armed guards stare us down through the open window.
“You’re out past curfew,” one of them barks.
“We have nowhere to go,” Vi explains in a very convincing lost-girl voice.
“Where are you coming from?”
“Originally 63, but we’ve been wandering for a while now trying to get to safety.”
“You got all the way from 63 to 398? Through government checkpoints?”
The loud hum of the engine overpowers their voices as they consult each other. Vi and I remain still, awaiting the verdict of our first test. I’m hoping the eerie twilight is masking the terror in my veins.
“Do you have identification?” the driver asks, returning to us.
We retrieve our IDs from our bags and hand them over. They focus on me.
“This says you’re from 489, not 63.”
“I was visiting Viktoria in 63 when we ran. We’d love to get back to 489 if we can. We heard it’s not controlled by government forces. I’m hoping my mom is still there.” There’s a slight tremble in my voice, and once again I get to play myself in this game.
The man considers my story and returns our IDs. “Yes, Free Forces control 489, but I doubt your mother is there. The GF got there first and took most of the civilians to their prisons.”
One side’s refugee haven is the other side’s prison. Words matter, Andie.
“Okay, let’s see your bags.”
After a thorough scan of our belongings, they wave us into the jeep. We settle into the seats, and the vehicle jerks into motion. Soon the rumble rocks my exhausted body onto the edge of sleep.
Ping. Another paperclip bounces off my pile, this one just missing my lap. My gaze shoots toward Kaleb’s desk, but his eyes are fixed on the screen. I almost believe that the darn thing fell from the ceiling—until his lips twist into a slight smile.
I toss it back at him, and he grins as he deflects it into the corner.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to work.” I force away the warmth in my chest so I can hold a stern expression. His humor spreads to his eyes, eliminating any hope of that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he returns.
“Oh really? You have no idea why paperclips keep moving through the air from your desk to my piles?”
“Are you accusing me of something, Sorenson?”
“Are you denying something, Novelli?”
He snickers before waving me over. “Hey, I want to show you something.”
I push up from the floor and approach his desk, nervous like I am every time we’re close lately. Ever since the kiss, he’s consumed my thoughts with fantasies of his essence being mine.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” he asks.
“Fine, why?”
“I don’t know, you look uncomfortable.”
“Well, I’m not.”
He continues to study me. I wonder if I torture him the same way he devours me when we’re apart.
“Kaleb…”
He waits. Probably thinks I have a question about his screen, filing, or lunch menus. He certainly doesn’t suspect I’m about to blurt why it’s becoming harder and harder to be within five feet of him.
He gives up on my awkward silence and slides a small photograph toward me.
“That’s you,” I say.
“From a year ago. Before my abduction.”
I glance up from the vibrant paper smile to meet the rich depth of pain inches away.
“You look perfect,” I say softly.
“Nice of you to say.”
I take his face in my hands. “No. You look...”
My voice stops, and I don’t have a choice anymore. He needs our connection as much as I do. And I need him to understand who he is.
It’s a sweet kiss, short and to the point. Lingering afterwards with a slight space to allow us to consider the consequences. He shuts his eyes, so close, and yet nowhere near where I want him.
“We’re making a mistake, Andie. Getting this attached. There’s no future here.”
“No, the mistake is letting fear steal our present. How can it be a mistake to exhaust the seconds we have?”
That smile. My heart.
“You’re quite the philosopher.”
“Ha. I get it from you. Besides, I’ll be whatever you want if it means you’ll kiss me every second you can.”
“I don’t know. Pretty sure you have plenty of seconds-worth of filing over there.”
“Shut up,” I laugh as he pulls me in this time.
“Andie! Andie, hey.”
Someone is shaking my arm, and I force my eyes open. My body grows cold when the present washes the silky memory from my mind, branding me with the realization that I may never see that smile or feel those lips again. Monsters are snuffing out the kindness in his eyes at this very moment.
“We’re here.” Vi nudges me to look out the window, and I catch my breath at the concrete fortress. “Looks even worse than 9B, huh?” she mutters. I nod as the soldiers bark at us to get out.
“This way,” they say, leading us through a steel door. I scan the fortified walls and occasional armed guard standing at attention as we pass.
Vi’s features are locked, determined at whatever runs through her head. I’m sure I look less confident, but my intimidated awe is a healthy cover.
“Andie Sorenson and Viktoria Callahan,” one of our escorts announces to someone seated at a desk.
The other man raises his eyebrows before focusing back on our guide for more information.
“They claim to be from 63. We found them on Route 33, six hundred yards beyond the checkpoint.”
“63?”
“Supposedly, they left before the government forces moved in.”
Supposedly. Claim. Words matter.
“Hmm. All right, take them to 4. I’ll send Clarke in.”
Our soldier waves us along.
We continue down the hallway, hurrying to keep up with his pace. Vi doesn’t seem impressed by our welcome either, but I try to be sympathetic to their skepticism. After all, technically we are the spies they’re wary of.
Kaleb, remember your greeting when we met? I’ll never forget what your smile did for me. You made me believe I might be okay, that maybe I wasn’t just a prisoner after all.
My heart starts pounding again as I gaze down the long corridor of identical rooms. Maybe Kaleb is in this building. Maybe he’s screaming or being nursed back to health somewhere beneath my feet. I shake off the thought, recalling the lack of water towers upon our approach.
“In here. Sit,” the guard says before closing the heavy door behind us.
Vi and I exchange a look as we slide into the two folding chairs at the small table. Another chair faces us. We know better than to speak and offer clues that might feed their suspicions in case they’re monitoring us.
Clarke enters after a lengthy wait, older than the soldiers we’ve encountered so far. Worn, he’s clearly seen his share of conflict and doesn’t seem pleased about his involvement in the plight of two strays.
“You’re from 63?” he begins, dropping into the empty chair with a tap on his tablet screen.
“I am. She’s from 489,” Vi says.
He evaluates me before slamming out more keystrokes.
“What brings you to 398?”
“We’re looking for my cousin,” I blurt. I don’t risk a glance at Vi.
“Your cousin?”
“My mom said if anything ever happened to her I should find my cousin Max.”
“Max?”
“Dennel.”
Clarke’s expression betrays him, and I know I’ve made an impact with my spontaneous gamble. Whether we get a hero’s welcome or a prison cell remains to be seen.
“Your cousin is Max Dennel?”
“Do you know him?”
“Never met him but I know of him.”
“Where can we find him?”
He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t tell you if I knew. We’re not in the business of handing out our operatives’ locations.”
Operative.
I force a disappointed sigh. “Oh, okay. Well, thank you anyway. We will keep looking then.”
“No, you won’t. We’re not finished here.”
I swallow.
“Explain to me, in detail, your journey from 63 to 398,” he continues, and I’m disappointed that even Dennel’s cousin can’t avoid an interrogation. Thankfully, this puts us in Vi’s wheelhouse and she launches into a matter-of-fact depiction of our route from Zone 63 to the soldiers’ jeep. Even I start to believe her as she talks. I study Clarke while he concentrates on Vi. He listens and punches his fingertips on the screen with a periodic highlight but really just looks like he’d rather be killing someone and blowing shit up.
“So why 398? Why not 489, your home? Free forces control that zone now,” he directs to me.
“Like I said, we’re looking for my cousin. I learned that my mother was taken by the GF when they went through. There’s nothing there for me anymore. I’m trying to find Max.”
If he’s satisfied with my response, he doesn’t show it.
“Wait here.”
We’re alone again, and I can feel Vi’s burning gaze. “And what makes you think your cousin is in 398?”
“I’m not sure, but maybe he’s here.”
“Well, hopefully we find him,” she mumbles, and I know it’s killing her that she can’t explode on me for tossing my cards all over the table.
After several minutes of saturated silence, Clarke interrupts with yet another menacing man in tow.
“This is Rico. He’d like to talk to you.”
Rico lowers to the vacant chair and studies us.
“A cousin of Max Dennel?”
“On my father’s side.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Not since I was a girl.”
“If I contact him and ask about you, what will he say?”
“I’m not sure, but I remember him having a dirty mouth.”
Rico cracks a smile. “Most of us do.”
“I’m not expecting you to tell me where he is, but if you could just let him know I’m looking for him…”
“I doubt he’ll want to see you. I know he sure as hell can’t help you right now.”
Traitor Page 18