Exposure (The Fringe Book 2)

by Tarah Benner

  “Yes, sir,” she says in her most acidic voice. But when she says it, I don’t get a twinge of amusement the way I do when Harper responds to orders with contempt. There’s a note of warning in Jayden’s voice that gives me a chill.

  She’s planning something, and I’m sure it involves me and Harper going back on the Fringe.

  She turns on her heel and leaves, slamming the door behind her.

  “Sir, how is Cadet Riley?” I ask.

  “Cadet Riley made it back to the compound safe and sound. Dragged you about a mile, is what I heard. She’s been making quite the scene ever since she got back.”

  Yeah, that sounds like Harper.

  “Can I visit her?”

  Remy’s face goes dark, and I see him putting his guard up. “No. No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not being allowed visitors right now.”

  “But if she’s been debriefed . . .”

  “Riley is in psychiatric holding until further notice.”

  My stomach drops. “What?”

  “When we went to debrief her, she was hysterical. Her story matches up with what you told us, but . . .”

  “So release her!” I yell. “She isn’t crazy.”

  Remy grimaces. “No one said she was crazy. She’s just been under a lot of stress, and it seems to be getting to her.”

  “That’s ridiculous! I’ve never seen a cadet behave so well under pressure.”

  Remy gives me a sharp look, but then it starts to fray with sympathy.

  “With all due respect, she may not have been faring as well as you thought, Lieutenant. Commander Pierce seems to think she’s suffered some kind of mental break. We’ve detained her until we can be sure she doesn’t pose a threat to internal security.”

  “She’s not going to go telling people. She wouldn’t do that.”

  “That isn’t your call to make, Parker,” he says, more forcefully this time. “As far as we’re concerned, Riley is a liability. But if you’re worried about her falling behind on training, I assure you that we’ll have her back as soon as she’s stable.”

  I let out a burst of air between my teeth and slam my head back against my pillows. I can’t believe Jayden’s getting away with this. It has to be Constance flexing its muscles from on high.

  Jayden knows Harper is fine, but she’s worried about what she might say to people about the drifters, the bid, Sullivan Taylor . . . any of it, really. She’d counted on us getting killed out there. And now that we’re back, she’s going to do whatever she can to discredit Harper and cut her off from everyone she knows. I’m sure she’s still working on my punishment.

  “I hope you recover quickly,” says Remy. “We’ll need your help locating that command center Riley mentioned.”

  As Remy leaves, I have the sudden urge to go bang my head against the wall. I don’t know how much Harper told them, but I hope she didn’t just hand over our bargaining chip.

  She wouldn’t, I tell myself. We talked about it.

  But after Remy and Jayden’s visit, I’m starting to feel a gnawing sense of unrest.

  What if Harper really did snap? I thought her reaction to killing that drifter was normal, and she managed to stay levelheaded even when we were under fire. But what if I only saw what I wanted to see? Is it possible I overlooked obvious signs that she wasn’t in her right mind?

  Before I have time to think about what I’m doing, I swing my legs over the bed and get to my feet.

  As soon as I put weight on my left leg, it buckles underneath me, and I have to grab the swiveling tray over the bed to keep from falling. The flimsy thing tips, sending a pitcher of water flying.

  The blond nurse runs back in, panting as though she just ran a mile. “I told you not to try to walk!” she shrieks.

  “I need to visit someone.”

  “You’re not visiting anyone,” she growls, her friendly demeanor vanishing as her shoes squeak through the puddle by my bed. “Visiting hours are over, and you can’t walk.”

  “Then get me a wheelchair,” I groan. “Just get me out of here.”

  But Blondie is already shoving me back into bed and stabbing a needle in my IV.

  “What is that?”

  “Commander Pierce says you need to rest, Lieutenant.”

  “What the fuck?” I yell. “Where’s Sawyer? I need to talk to Sawyer.”

  “She’s busy! You can see her when you wake up.”

  “When I . . .”

  But the drugs are already taking hold. I can feel myself slipping away. My last thought is how much I’d pay to get Harper in the boxing ring with this girl before I succumb to sleep.

  By the time I regain consciousness, I’ve slept the day away. The lighting in the tunnel is dim, and my room is dark apart from a single florescent light over the bed. I feel foggy and slightly nauseated, but that’s probably just the meds.

  I’m tempted to press the call button again, but I don’t know if the nurses have changed shifts yet, and I can’t risk Blondie coming back. I can already tell she and I aren’t going to get along.

  Glancing over at the IV suspended above my bed, I catch a glimpse of a shiny pair of crutches propped against the headboard. A white key card with a number stamped on the side is hanging from a bright red lanyard. I grin.

  Only one person could have gotten me a key card for the medical ward, and only one med intern is mischievous enough to spring me from bed rest — someone who’s been hanging out with Harper way too long.

  I make a mental note to thank Sawyer someday and reach for the crutches.

  It isn’t easy hoisting myself out of bed or maneuvering around the mess of cords and tubes on the floor, but I manage. I only stop when I feel a cool breeze against my ass.

  I groan. I’m not going to see Harper while wearing a hospital gown. I’d never get her to listen to me again. I swing my injured leg over to the fake oak wardrobe in the corner and open it.

  One of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats are sitting on the shelf, which means Miles must have paid me a visit. He’s suffered through enough breezy gowns to know that the first thing you want when you wake up in the medical ward is your own clothes.

  Propping myself up on the bed, I change quickly and limp back out into the tunnel.

  Luckily, the Recon recovery wing is deserted this time of night. Most of the nurses and interns on duty are making their rounds, and I’ve been here enough times that I know exactly where the psych ward is.

  The lights flicker on as I go, but no one appears to admonish me for wandering around.

  When I reach the door with the number on the key card, I slide it into the reader and wait for the light to turn green. It’s dark inside Harper’s room, but I close the door quietly and feel my way to the bed.

  From the tiny bit of light filtering through the window, I can just make out Harper’s face resting against the pillow. She’s curled into a ball, with her hair spilling everywhere and her brow furrowed in sleep.

  I need to talk to her, but I don’t want to wake her. Back when I was a private, sleep was a luxury. During that first year, there were times I wouldn’t sleep for days after a mission. So I sink into the chair beside the bed and watch her.

  Harper looks much more relaxed in sleep, and for some reason, I’m fascinated. But then she makes a noise halfway between a yell and a sob, and I jump.

  She wasn’t awakened by her own yell, but tears are streaming down her cheeks. She folds in on herself, crying in her sleep, and something inside me cracks.

  Without thinking, I lunge forward and accidentally put weight on my injured leg. A jolt of pain shoots up the left side of my body, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed.

  “Harper!” I hiss, steadying myself on the flimsy mattress. “Harper!”

  When she opens her eyes, it takes her a second to realize there’s someone in the room with her. When she does, she jerks upright with a squeak, and I realize how insensitive it was to wake her like that in
the middle of a nightmare.

  “It’s okay! It’s okay! It’s me.”

  Harper drags in a shaky breath. She’s panting hard, and I know I startled her.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispers. “They said I couldn’t have any visitors.”

  My hand is still on her arm, but I don’t move it. “I know. Remy and Jayden told me they put you here. It sometimes happens with new cadets. They’re just worried you’re going to tell people what you saw.”

  “They haven’t told me when I can leave,” she says in a terrified whisper. “They’re just going to keep me locked up here until they need me again.”

  “No. No, they won’t.”

  Not if I have anything to do with it.

  But her eyes are quickly filling with tears. I’ve never seen her this rattled, but the postexposure hysteria is all too familiar.

  She nods. “I told them about the drifter in the cleared zone, but now Jayden’s trying to make me seem crazy. We have to tell someone who will listen — the board or . . .”

  “We can’t,” I say in a warning voice. “That will only make things worse for you.”

  “But they could come here.”

  “Who?”

  She glances at the door. “The drifters.”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’d never be able to enter the compound.”

  “I can’t go back out there, Eli,” she says, shaking her head slowly. I can tell she’s teetering on the edge of a total breakdown. “I can’t . . . do that again.”

  “Don’t think about that right now,” I say. “It won’t do any good.”

  “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I . . . I killed someone.”

  “I know.”

  She meets my gaze, wild-eyed. “I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”

  We fall silent for a moment, neither of us willing to admit she won’t have a choice.

  But when I look up, I realize she isn’t at a loss for words. She’s crying silently, head bowed. “Maybe I am crazy,” she squeaks.

  “No,” I say firmly. “No, you’re not.”

  I pull her toward me, and to my surprise, Harper wraps her arms around my torso and buries her face in my T-shirt.

  Harper — tough, unshakable Harper — is sobbing into my shoulder. My arms tighten around her, and I rest my chin on top of her head.

  Her fear fills me with fury — fury at the board, fury at Constance, fury at Jayden for locking her up and making her question her sanity.

  Harper’s the sanest person I know. Any sane person would have a breakdown after what we did. I should be having one, too, but my insides are tough and calloused from years on the Fringe. Recon and everything that came before sucked out my compassion and made me something less than human.

  After a while, I become aware of just how long I’ve been holding Harper. It’s definitely longer than what’s appropriate, but I can’t make myself let go. She fits perfectly in my arms, and holding her makes me feel as though I can neutralize some of her fear and grief.

  She pulls away first, looking a little embarrassed but much more like herself.

  “I’m sorry,” she says in a hoarse whisper.

  “Don’t be. Listen.” I grip her arm and glance at the door. “I’m going to talk to Jayden to see if I can get you out of here, but you can’t give them any reason to detain you longer. Constance is going to be looking for any reason to discredit you. Do whatever they tell you. Eat your meals. Talk to the shrink. Keep asking for visitors, but don’t fight with the nurses.”

  She raises an eyebrow, and I fix her with a stern look.

  “What about you?” she asks. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad, considering I got shot. They just grazed me, though. My leg should be fine in a couple of weeks.”

  She lets out a burst of air. “We have to get out of here, Eli.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “No, I mean . . .” Harper bites her lip and glances at the door to make sure we’re alone. “We need to get out, out. Out of this compound.”

  At first, I’m not sure she said what I think she said.

  “Leave the compound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to transfer?”

  She tilts her head to the side, and I can tell she’s nervous about sharing this idea with me. “I thought . . . maybe 119 in Arizona, where the new recruits went after the bidding ceremony.”

  She holds my gaze hopefully for several beats and then tears her eyes away and focuses on the blankets. “Never mind. Of course you don’t have to leave. I’m sure Jayden will lay off eventually. But I’m going to try . . . Celdon and I are going to try. It’s too dangerous for us to stay here.”

  I let out a long, deep breath.

  Of course I thought about leaving the compound years ago, after I received a bid from Recon. But my VocAps score was so low I knew I wouldn’t receive a better bid anywhere else. I’d never even considered leaving after that.

  The thought is crazy, but it ignites a flicker of hope inside me. “How?”

  “Buy a ticket out.”

  “Do you know how much those cost?”

  “Yes!” she snaps. “But what other choice do we have? Stick around until Constance finds a way to get rid of us?”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I don’t have a plan, okay? Unless Celdon becomes a prostitute, I have no way of getting that much money.”

  She sounds pissed that I’m poking holes in her plan, but then she cracks a grin.

  I can’t help it. I laugh.

  It rumbles up my chest, and when it escapes, Harper joins in with a nervous giggle. The sound sends an unfamiliar warmth over me that I wish I could feel every day.

  When we’ve both recovered, Harper falls silent. She’s still smiling, but I know she’s serious about leaving the compound. And she asked me to go with her. She wants me to leave with her and Celdon, her best friend in the world.

  The rational part of my brain knows it’s only because Constance wants me dead, but the other part is screaming that it’s significant.

  “Three tickets will cost six grand. Can Celdon get that kind of money?”

  I don’t know how much Systems workers are paid, but I know it’s a hell of a lot more than our stipends.

  “He says no. Most of his stipend is automatically deducted for food and his swanky compartment. It would take a year for him to save that much. I have a little money put aside, but we’ll want to convert that to 119’s credits when we get there . . . for food and rent until we’re placed.”

  “And I’m guessing hacking Finance is out?”

  Harper throws me a sharp glance, as though she and Celdon never hacked into VocAps records or anything.

  Suddenly an idea pops into my head. “I could fight.”

  “Fight who?”

  “You know . . . take a fight.”

  She looks skeptical. “You can make that much money from an illegal fight?”

  “Well, no. Not from one fight, usually. But if it’s a big fight where I’ve got long odds, I could make quite a bit just betting on myself.”

  “Is that allowed?”

  “It’s . . . frowned upon. But I could get away with it if someone bet for me.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Harper goes red in the face, which immediately sparks my curiosity, but I wait patiently for her to answer.

  “Because . . . I dragged you into this mess. And you’re already hurt. You can’t fight with your leg.”

  I shrug. “My leg will be fine in a few weeks. And you didn’t drag me into this.”

  “Yes I did.”

  “I let myself get dragged in, and it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t recruited you for Recon in the first place.”

  She falls silent, and I can tell she’s mulling the idea over. Even she can’t deny that it’s a good one. “A few weeks?”

  I
nod.

  Another grin breaks through her serious expression, causing my chest to ache in a pleasant way. Hell, I’d sign up for ten fights just to get her smiling like that because of me.

  “Okay.”

  A heavy silence falls between us, and I feel strangely giddy for reasons I can’t explain.

  “Talk to Jayden, will you?” she asks finally. “I need to get out of here so I can watch you get your ass handed to you.”

  nine

  Eli

  “Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to you?” asks Miles.

  “Got shot,” I say, glaring at the beige glob of patient-approved food congealing on my tray.

  Miles slams the door and swaggers into my room, looking as though he just sent half the nurses running for the hills. Freakishly tall and rugged from too much time on the Fringe, Miles looks wildly out of place in the shiny, clean medical ward.

  He stares at my injured leg and collapses into a chair by the bed. “Can you ever go out there and come back in one piece? I’m starting to think you’ve got the hots for one of these nurses.”

  I laugh. “Not a chance.”

  It’s day two of my recovery, and Miles is the first visitor I’ve been allowed. The doctor came by earlier to examine me and said they wouldn’t let me leave the medical ward for a few days. He’s keeping me there for “observation,” but that’s just code for “Jayden doesn’t want to deal with you.” I know because I’ve messaged her three times to no response.

  There was no point arguing. As my commanding officer, Jayden’s orders are law.

  “How do they keep explaining gunshot wounds and explosions to a bunch of doctors who supposedly have no idea what’s out there?”

  “The attending physicians who work on the postexposure unit have security clearance,” I say, swinging my leg over the bed and gingerly applying some weight. “They know what we know.”

  “Guess they don’t care.”

  “Why would they? They aren’t the ones who have to go out there.”

  His face grows serious. “So what’s the deal? Jayden’s put a freeze on outbound missions. They’ve just got guys patrolling the perimeter now.”

  “We saw a drifter in the cleared zone.”