by Zoe Cannon
Jake, waiting in the playground. Abandoned.
Could she live with herself if she left him there?
Her mom let her hands fall to her sides. “I know how hard it is. It’s easier to hate the people who killed your best friend’s parents than to understand why their deaths were necessary. It’s easier to believe a friend’s lies than to accept that he’s using you. But you know what’s right. And you have to keep reminding yourself of that.”
She did know what was right.
And leaving Jake at the playground wasn’t it.
Her mom was waiting for a response.
“I’ve been trying.” Becca didn’t have to fake sincerity. “But… it’s hard.”
“I know it is,” her mom said gently. “But it’s the only way you’re going to get through this.”
* * *
Becca tiptoed out of her bedroom. She winced as the floor creaked under her feet. Her mom’s door stood slightly open; through it Becca saw her mom’s arm hanging off the bed, heard the slow rhythmic sound of her breathing.
Her mom mumbled something incoherent. Becca stopped, waiting to hear her name or a question about what she was doing up so late. Instead the mattress squeaked as her mom’s breathing settled back into its regular pattern.
Becca crept past her door, through the hallway, into the living room. She slipped her shoes on and picked up her backpack. Once she had swung the backpack onto her back, she opened the door inch by inch, cringing at every squeal of the hinges. She stood in the doorway, listening for any hint that the noise might have woken her mom.
If her mom woke up, she couldn’t leave.
Nothing. Her mom was still asleep.
She told herself she was relieved.
She stepped out of the apartment and closed the door as carefully as she had opened it.
Down the hall. Down the stairs. Trying not to think of who might hear her footsteps and open their doors to see who was wandering around in the middle of the night. Just paranoia. Nobody could hear her from inside their apartments, and if they could, they wouldn’t think anything of it. Around here, people came and went at all hours; Becca’s mom wasn’t the only one who sometimes didn’t stumble home from work until six in the morning.
Becca walked outside into the cool night air. The last time she had been out this late, she had been hiding in the playhouse, the way Jake was now.
At least, if he was still there.
He had to still be there.
The thought of Jake forced her forward, away from the building, into the parking lot.
Directly into the path of an Enforcer.
They had been watching her, waiting for her to do something like this. And now that she had confirmed their suspicions, now that they had caught her—
He gave her a wave as he ambled toward the building.
She told her heart to slow down. Just a neighbor on his way home from work, too bleary from his long day to register anything strange about Becca’s middle-of-the-night wanderings.
Maybe seeing him had been a warning, a way of telling her to turn around before it was too late
She adjusted her backpack and kept going.
Out of the parking lot, into the shadows. Leaving the light of the parking lot at least meant less chance of being seen. But it also meant she couldn’t see who was waiting for her. Anybody could be out there between her and the playground, just waiting for her to get a little closer, for her to prove she was what they thought she was.
She tried to shake off her worries. Nobody was waiting for her. Her mom had said they wouldn’t arrest her again. But her fear weighed her down as much as the backpack on her shoulders, making every step slower as she squinted into the darkness.
She had never noticed before just how many steps it took to get to the playground. How many trees stood between her and her destination, looming over her with their branches stretched out like grasping hands. How many dark places there were in the construction site where someone could lurk without being seen. How many times her heart could beat in the few minutes she spent walking this short stretch of road.
And then she was there, standing in the weeds with the playhouse in front of her. Her feet felt twice as heavy, each step twice as long, as she crossed the playground to where Jake was hiding, where he had to be hiding.
She couldn’t hear anything from inside the playhouse.
He had to be in there.
She took a deep breath—but before she could step inside, a dark shape hurtled toward her and threw her to the ground.
Chapter Eighteen
They had found her. They had been waiting here for her all along. She should have known better than to come back here. Now they would bring her back to 117, and this time her mom wouldn’t be able to save her.
She fought blindly, thrashing on her belly like a fish out of water. Where was that noise coming from? Was she screaming? When had she started screaming?
Her attacker pinned her to the grass with the weight of his body. His hands moved up to her neck, crept around to her throat, started squeezing. Her scream turned into a gurgle, then stopped entirely; she gasped for breath, her struggles becoming more frantic.
He would kill her here, or arrest her and bring her back to 117 so she could die there. Either way, she died. They had found her, her release had meant nothing, they had come for her again…
Her lungs burned. She strained for air, but could only pull in a thin stream. Not enough.
The hands around her neck loosened.
She greedily gulped in air, heart pounding, tears springing to her eyes. It didn’t matter whether he let her live, it didn’t matter, they would kill her in 117 anyway…
“Becca?”
She heard her name from very far away.
Who was calling her?
It didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry, Becca. I didn’t know it was you. I thought it had to be them, so I panicked. I didn’t even think…”
The things the voice was saying didn’t make any sense. But it didn’t matter; nothing mattered now. She tried to get up, tried to run, but even though her attacker wasn’t holding her down anymore—when had he stopped holding her down?—she couldn’t make her shaking limbs cooperate. When she tried to push herself off the ground, her arm gave out underneath her, dropping her face-first back down into the weeds.
Even if she managed to get away, he would still come after her. No matter how far she ran, they would find her. They would always find her.
“Becca, it’s me. It’s Jake.”
More meaningless words, reaching her ears from a million miles away.
Her heart was going to explode in her chest. She had to get out of here, had to get away, but she couldn’t move…
“Becca. Come back. It’s me. It’s just me.”
They had found her…
They were going to come for her…
He stroked her hair. This time she recognized the touch, didn’t flinch, didn’t fight him. Jake. Alive, safe, free. Just like her.
For now.
For how long?
Even now that she knew who he was, now that she knew she was safe, she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lie facedown on the ground and shiver and cry and wait for them to take her.
* * *
She didn’t know how long she lay in the grass with Jake’s soothing voice in her ears. By the time he led her into the playhouse, she had mostly stopped shaking; her heart had almost slowed down to normal.
The smell of unwashed human overlaid the playhouse’s usual moldy odor. Jake’s dad sat in the same corner as before, staring off into the distance. Had he moved at all since Becca had left last time? She set her backpack down, then slid to the floor herself, still too weak to be confident that she could stay on her feet.
She opened the backpack and distributed what little food she had managed to smuggle away as she explained in a wobbly voice what had happened. She left out the part about how she had nearly abandoned
them; she let Jake think she had only just gotten out of 117. Jake’s dad twitched an arm out to grab one of the apples she had brought. He kept his eyes fixed on that same spot in the distance as he ate.
While Becca spoke, Jake wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She tensed at first, then leaned into him. The heat of his body radiated through her, chasing away the cold her fear had left behind. His solid presence was a wall between her and the world. She wished she could hide there forever.
But the world was still out there. She couldn’t hide forever, and neither could Jake. That was why she had come here.
“You have to run,” she told him. “The longer you stay, the more likely it is that someone will realize you’re here. You need to leave while you still have a chance.”
Jake shook his head. “Not yet.”
“I don’t know how long you have before they find you. If you wait too long, it’ll be too late.” Worries crept into her mind as she spoke. How were they going to run? They had no money and nowhere to go. Even if Jake’s dad could take care of himself, they wouldn’t have much of a chance.
But if they stayed, they had none.
Jake pulled his arm back to his lap; Becca shivered from the sudden cold. “We’re not leaving.” His voice was as cold as the air, as cold as the fear he had shielded her from a few short seconds ago.
What had just happened?
“It’s not that I want you to leave, if that’s what you’re thinking. I… I don’t want to lose you.” Her cheeks heated up at the words, honest as they were. “But if you stay—”
He cut her off. “It’s not about you.”
“So what is it about?” She pushed herself back, away from him, as she scooted sideways to face him. “What do you think you’re going to do? Hide here forever? No matter how small your chances are if you run, they’ll be worse if you stay.” Her voice filled the tiny playhouse. “They’ll kill you. Both of you.” She glanced from Jake to his dad, who hadn’t moved. “You said you needed to protect your dad,” she said more quietly. “You need to protect him now by getting out of here.”
Jake stood up. The sudden movement stirred the dust on the floor, making Becca’s nose tickle. “Don’t tell me how to protect him.”
Becca clambered to her feet. She didn’t want him looming over her as she talked. “How are you going to protect him if you stay here?”
“How am I going to protect him if I leave?” Jake glared at some invisible point in the center of the room. For a second he and his dad looked alike, both in their own worlds, staring at something no one else could see. “We have to stay. It’s the only way he’ll ever be safe.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Becca put a hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back, trying to reassure herself that he was still there. He shook her hand off and backed away.
From the corner, a rough voice spoke. “Maybe she’s right.”
Becca turned to face Jake’s dad. He was still sitting in the exact same position; he wasn’t even looking at them. But he had spoken.
“Let me handle this,” said Jake. “I know what I’m doing.
“If we stay here, we’re not safe.” Jake’s dad blinked slowly. “You’re not safe.”
“You think that matters?” Jake shifted restlessly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body. “We’ve come this far. I’m not walking away now. I threw away my chance once already. I won’t run and lose the opportunity forever.”
“The opportunity for what?” Becca asked.
Neither of them looked at her.
“If we stay, we’ll die. I’ll lose you like I lost them.” His dad finally turned his head to look at Jake. His face was full of desperation, the same desperation Becca had seen in him when she had gone to their house that day. “What good will it do to kill her if you die too?”
The rest of his words faded into the background, leaving only two ringing in her ears.
Kill her.
Jake stepped between Becca and his dad. His face twisted between rage and panic.
Becca looked past Jake, directing her question to his dad. “Kill who?”
But she didn’t need to hear the answer. She knew it before the name left his lips.
“Raleigh Dalcourt.”
Chapter Nineteen
Becca waited for Jake to deny what his dad had said, to say something—anything—that would make her believe it wasn’t true. But looking at him, she knew he wouldn’t.
“What do you want me to say?” Jake challenged. “Of course I have to kill her. What else am I supposed to do—keep going on like this, watching him get worse and worse every day, waiting for them to come for us again? It’s the only way I can keep him safe. It’s the only thing I can do for Mom and Sarra.” His voice steadied as he spoke. “I can’t undo any of what happened, but I can do this. They’ll probably find me and kill me afterwards, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll be dead. They can’t undo that any more than I can bring Mom and Sarra back.”
Becca wanted Jake to look like a stranger to her. Like a killer. But he looked the same as he had when they had first met, the same as he had a few minutes ago when he had comforted her. She couldn’t keep looking at him—but she couldn’t turn away, either.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Please, Jake,” said his dad from the corner. “Just forget all this. Run like she told you to.”
Jake ignored him.
“Everything between us,” Becca forced out. “Everything you did for me. It was just to get to her, wasn’t it?”
“No!” He barked the word, a desperate denial. “I didn’t expect you to be who you were. I never thought you would be like us. After I knew, all of it was real.”
He reached his hand out to her. She recoiled.
The light in his eyes dimmed, but only for a second. “And because you’re a dissident,” he continued, as if she hadn’t just pulled away, “you understand why I have to do this.”
Becca gaped at him. “You’re talking about killing my mom.”
“I’m talking about killing a torturer.” Jake’s eyes seared into her. “You know what she is.”
Reluctantly, Becca nodded.
“And you still think she deserves to live?” Jake demanded.
“She’s my mother.” It was the only answer she had. It didn’t feel like enough.
“And what about my mother?” Jake’s voice vibrated against the walls. “What about my sister? What about all the other people she tortures and kills every day?”
Becca had nothing to say, no words she could offer that would erase the truth of what Jake had said. She knew what her mom was. What she had done. What she would continue to do, day after day, because her principles demanded it.
“I know you hate what she does,” said Jake. “This is your chance to keep her from hurting anyone else. You don’t even have to do anything. Just get me into the apartment, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
She had to say no. She couldn’t let him kill her mom.
The answer stuck in her throat.
She knew what her mom was. With Anna’s execution still as vivid behind her eyes as it had been the moment she had witnessed it, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. But she couldn’t say yes, either.
Jake shook his head in disgust. “You’re just like the resistance group Sarra was working with. They wouldn’t help me kill her either. All their reasons were nothing but excuses. I know the real reason. You know what needs to be done, but you’re not willing to do it yourself.” He turned away. “You’re all a bunch of hypocrites.”
“If you’re so willing to kill her, why didn’t you do it that time you were over for dinner?” She had brought him into her house. She hadn’t known, hadn’t even suspected. She had insisted that he wasn’t dangerous.
Her mom had been right to be suspicious.
Jake kept his back to her as he answered. “I should have. I meant to. But when I got there, I… couldn’t. I chickened out, and I lost my chance.” His voice
hardened; his muscles clenched. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“You don’t have to do this.” The words were useless. How could she convince Jake that he shouldn’t kill her mom when she wasn’t even sure she believed it herself?
“Listen to Sarra,” his dad urged. “Forget about this.”
“Shut up!” Jake yelled. “I have to do this. I’m doing this for you!”
His dad cowered against the wall.
Jake turned back around to face Becca. “Are you going to help me?”
She saw her answer reflected in his eyes before she knew what she was going to say.
“No,” she told him. “I’m not.”
“Then I’ll have to do it on my own.” He squared his shoulders. “You were right—we don’t have much time left if we stay here. They’ll find us soon. But that just means I need to get this done as soon as possible.”
Becca tried to speak. But she still didn’t know what she wanted to say.
Jake looked at her like he didn’t know her. “It’s time for you to leave.”
She had to stay. She had to convince him not to kill her mom… or help him do what had to be done. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she had to stay.
But like a coward, she left.
* * *
Becca sat scrunched against the head of her bed, knees pulled to her chest. Her pillow dangled precariously off the edge, where it had landed when she had shoved it aside. She wrapped her blankets around herself like a cocoon. It didn’t help block out the cold. The cold came from inside her; no amount of blankets would help.
Her eyes ached from crying. Her head ached from thinking.
She still didn’t have an answer.
She threw the blankets off and left the room, not caring how much noise she made this time. When she reached her mom’s door, she hesitated, but only for a second. She pushed the door open and walked in.
The room felt so still that Becca started tiptoeing without realizing it. Was her mom at work already? It had to be almost morning by now. But the bed looked too lumpy to be empty. Becca squinted. No, her mom was still here—lying in bed, curled on her side, the worry lines erased from her face in sleep. As Becca got closer, she stirred. Becca took another step forward. Her mom’s eyes snapped open like Becca had tripped some invisible alarm.