The truck is silent. Nero sleeps next to me; it’s strange to see him without his mouth moving. Romni and Skylar are both up front.
“Where are we?” I stifle a yawn.
“Almost into Tennessee,” Skylar says.
I groan. “I have to get out of this car.”
“There should be a gas station somewhere up ahead.” Romni stares out at the street. “I’ll stop at the next one I see. We need to get gas anyway.”
Romni calls Rory, who’s driving the truck in front of us, and tells her the plan. After a few more blocks, Rory finds a station and pulls into the parking lot. I immediately hop out of the truck and stretch my legs. The night is quiet. The town is sleepy and small. Not many people are traveling at this hour. Luckily the gas station is open twenty-four hours, because I need the restroom. I grab a hat from my bag and tuck my hair underneath it. It’s the best disguise I can muster right now.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell the group.
“By yourself?” Rory stops me. “I should go, too.”
I wave her off. “I don’t need an escort.” I jog inside. The cashier watches me and grins pleasantly when I look her way. She seems friendly enough. Must be bored out of her mind working this late. She taps on the touch-screen tablet in front of her with languid fingers, browsing the Internet.
Magazines are displayed in a rack beneath the counter. Most feature Westerfield and my father with stern, debate-like game faces. I notice one features me front and center on the cover, proclaiming my missing-person status. I pull my hat down farther and head to the back of the store.
I bend over the drinking fountain and take a long gulp. My throat is so raw. It makes my skin crawl being stuck in such a small place for so long. I lean over, stretching my back again. Then I take another long drink of water and hear the chime of the bells as someone enters.
Boots clatter on the tile floor.
I peek around the corner and then slam my back against the wall.
Soldiers. The gray uniforms give them away as border patrolmen. I don’t miss seeing the pistols at their hips, either.
I tip my head around the corner again. The soldiers have both of our trucks blocked in.
“We just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything suspicious going on here, ma’am,” one soldier with a red face says to the cashier, leaning against the counter. My heart jumps into my throat. “It isn’t often that a bunch of young kids are traveling near the wastelands this late at night, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir,” the cashier shrugs.
“Do you mind if we take a look around?” the other, taller soldier asks.
I press my back more firmly against the wall.
“Of course not,” she replies.
“Is anyone else in the store?” The tall officer scans the room, and I pray I’m hidden well enough that they won’t see me.
“There’s a young girl here,” the cashier tells him. “I think she just went into the restroom. If you officers want to wait I’m sure she’ll be right along.”
“Thank you,” the red-faced officer says and rolls back casually on the heels of his boots, looping his thumbs through his belt loops and facing the short hallway leading to the bathrooms. The hall where I now crouch, barely out of sight.
“Is everything alright?” the cashier asks.
“Everything’s fine,” the tall officer says, leaning comfortably against the counter.
I slip inside the bathroom. My abilities aren’t developed enough yet to get me out of this one. I’ll have to figure out a Plan B. There is a small window above the last stall. I bolt the main door and slide into the stall, locking that door behind me as well. Carefully balancing, I stand on the lid of the toilet and hoist myself up high enough to peer through the window.
It’s small. Even if I could break it, would I fit through it? If I could, I’d probably fall and break something on the other side.
There’s a pounding on the door. It’s the cashier. “Miss,” she asks, “are you alright?”
I curse under my breath before yelling, “Just a minute!”
I drop back down to the floor and wait, listening for movement. I picture the cashier standing outside with the two soldiers.
After a few more beats of silence, the cashier calls again, “Miss, I’m afraid you’re going to have to open the door.”
The time for games is over. I take a deep breath and ready my body, focusing my mind.
“I’m coming!” I frantically search for another way out.
There isn’t one.
If these soldiers recognize me, our whole mission will be compromised. It isn’t like the world has forgotten about my existence. I’ve seen the online headlines while I’ve been with The Revealed, and I’m all over them. By now, everyone knows I’ve been taken by The Revealed. If these men read any sort of news, there’s a good chance I’m not going to make it out of here.
I open the bathroom door. “Is there a problem?” I ask innocently, staring between the two soldiers, praying my hat is shielding enough of my face.
The tall one narrows his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Are you with that group outside?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod.
“And just where are you all headed?”
Crap.
No doubt they’ve already asked the others, and I have no idea what kind of answer they gave.
“Up the coast.” I shrug, trying to give as generic an answer as possible. “It’s the election, so….”
“The other girl outside said you were heading to the city to start a catering company?” the officer on the left volunteers.
Rory would say that.
“Well, we are,” I say, shrugging. “See … we figured that with the election, it would be a good time to start a company … since the country is starting fresh and everything….” What am I saying?
I wait for a moment longer as both soldiers scrutinize me.
“Anything else?” I finally ask.
Neither answers.
“Well, I should probably get back to my friends then….”
“Actually,” the soldier on my right cuts in, “if we could just see your identification, you can then be on our way.”
ID?
I fumble around in my pockets, though I know it isn’t there. Nervously, I laugh. “I must have left it in the car.” I point outside and begin walking toward the exit.
“Miss, you know it is sector policy that you carry your identification card with you at all times.”
“Of course,” I say and nod, “like I said, it’s right out in the car.”
In reality, it’s back in my room at The Revealed’s headquarters. It wouldn’t do me any good to carry around an ID that reads “Lilith Atwood,” better to be caught with no ID.
“We’ll just follow you out,” the officer says.
“Great,” I say. “No problem.” They follow me out. As we get closer to the truck, I widen my eyes at Rory. This is bad. This is really, really bad.
“Hey Skylar,” I call, “will you get my purse for me? My ID’s in there, and these soldiers would like to see it.” I emphasize my words, hoping one of them will get the hint.
Instead, Skylar moves to the side door.
I hold my breath.
I hear movement behind me. A struggle, only it isn’t much of a fight because it ends quickly.
I turn to find both soldiers on the ground, vines twisting around their waists. They aren’t moving.
“They’re not …,” I can’t bring myself to finish my sentence.
“Of course not,” Skylar says. “We don’t kill unless we absolutely can’t avoid it.”
I nod distantly. Good to know.
Nero and Romni stand over the soldiers, dusting off their hands and wearing smug grins.
“Come on!” Skylar barks. “We have to get out of here! Now!”
As I run to the black truck, I glance back at the store window. The cashier is already on the phone, cle
arly having seen the melee in the parking lot. The military will probably be here in less than an hour.
I jump in next to Rory, and we speed down the highway. As soon as we’re out of sight I can’t help but curse. “That was bad.” I shake my head.
“We’ve been through worse,” Rory says. “We’ll have to see about getting you a fake ID once we get back though.”
“Now the entire military will be on us,” I sigh.
Rory snorts. “Please,” she scoffs, “they already are. We deal with this sort of thing every time we step on dry land. It isn’t new. They won’t get anywhere.”
By now the sun is rising. I glance out at the world around me. Green grass, clear water, beautiful houses. Six years ago no one thought this was possible. But we’ve come so far, accomplished so much, and now?
Today is Election Day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Some other members of The Revealed are at a small coffee shop on the outskirts of town, waiting for us. They’re more experienced members and have made their home in Capitol City, integrating themselves into the government.
We pull into a side yard at the coffee shop that can barely be called a parking lot. It’s just red dirt. Tire tracks form worn patterns that could almost be mistaken for parking space lines, if you looked quickly.
By the time we arrive, the sun is high in the sky. People will have been awake for hours. The few with computers will have opened their electronic ballots to vote. Everybody else will go to schools, fire stations, whatever government buildings are left in their communities to cast their ballots in person.
The frosty air hits me as I step from the car, and I zip up my jacket. My nose is surely a nice shade of pink from the cold. Winter has never been my best look.
At this point, we’re tired. My rear end is sore from the long trip. I shuffle with the rest of the group into the coffee shop, and the delicious smell of the fresh brew hits us. It calls to me. My body craves the caffeine. My mission isn’t to sip hot espresso though.
A bell tinkles lightly as we step inside onto the hardwood floors. It’s quiet here. Only a few patrons huddle in corners with their coffees. The rest of the shop is dotted with fresh plants, some off to the side, others hanging from the ceiling. The large windows in the back showcase an empty outdoor patio.
“Right on time.” Zared, a veteran member of The Revealed, steps up to greet us. He has a history of successful missions, and I feel better that he’s on this trip. Skylar told me on the way that last he heard, Zared was in the Japanese Sector, scouting for new members. It’s comforting to know The Revealed take this mission seriously enough that they called one of their best to help. Hell, it’s comforting just looking at Zared. He’s all muscle, and even his boulder of a shaved head looks like it could take a person out. The thing about The Revealed is that most members are deceptively fragile-looking, myself included. We’re barely adults, and most of the group was malnourished until they became one of the Taken Eighteen. Sure, they’ve been training their bodies and have grown strong, but they still don’t look like fighting machines. Zared looks like a threat.
“Shall we?” Zared extends his hand toward the door, allowing us to lead the way. “Cara’s already outside prepping.”
“Of course she is,” Nero scowls. He clearly wants the caffeine as well. For once, I appreciate his frustrated quips.
I stare longingly back at the coffee machine and try to get one more whiff of the freshly roasted beans before sauntering back into the crisp air. I wrap my arms protectively around my chest.
Zared leads us out to his SUV where his partner, Cara, is moving a stack of gear from the front seat to the trunk. She’s dressed in leathery black, a sleeker uniform than I’m used to seeing, but the stamp of The Revealed over the heart distinguishes the garment. She pulls on a vest that covers the symbol and flicks her long red locks over her shoulder.
Sometime today, Westerfield will try to have my dad and mom shot. My stomach heaves. Suddenly, I’m glad I didn’t have the coffee. With all these nerves, the last thing I need is an added jolt of caffeine right now.
Zared takes off his gloves and throws them in the passenger seat of his car. “Let’s get started then,” he says to our group.
Nero raises an eyebrow. “Let’s.”
Zared ignores him. “Who’s heading your group?”
Eyes shift toward Rory.
Zared looks her over. “I should have known.”
She shrugs. “We didn’t really appoint anyone.” And the way her cheeks light up, I can tell she definitely doesn’t see Zared as a threat.
“Don’t disregard your talent,” Zared says in a way that only makes her blush deepen. They’ve obviously met before.
Rory catches me watching their beguiling exchange. I raise an eyebrow, Another boy, Rory? Really?
She rushes to explain. “Zared was my mentor when I first arrived at the facilities.”
Mentor. Right.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nero holds up his hands, never missing an opportunity to speak his mind. “Mentor?”
“Zared’s the one who took me,” Rory explains, her cheeks still red. Rory never blushes. Ever. She’s always the collected, confident one around boys.
“That’s right.” Zared puts a hand on Rory’s shoulder. I catch the tenderness there too. “And who are you?”
“Nero.” He sticks out his meaty hand.
Zared envelops it in his own, brusquely.
“And who are these other crew members?” Zared looks over our group. We seem so motley compared to Zared and Cara, who embody composure and professionalism.
“This is Skylar, Nero, Romni, and—” Rory motions toward me, “our newest addition, Lily.”
“Lily Atwood,” Zared says, nodding. “I heard you were a candidate. I expect you’ll do great things with The Revealed. Pleasure. Now,” Zared walks around to the driver’s side of his large black SUV, “let’s get to work. We’ve only got about seven hours before the election announcement and Westerfield’s sniper is dispatched. We’ll head into the city. There’s already a crowd gathering in front of the White House. We’re about an hour from the Capitol.”
Zared doesn’t mess around.
“You all know Cara?” Zared rests a hand on her shoulder. “She’s been undercover in the capitol now for two years working as an aide in the Westerfield camp. She’s an invaluable asset, as she’s had the opportunity to work directly with him. She knows how he thinks and operates. Hopefully, it’ll give us the edge in hunting down this sniper. We believe he’ll be located in one of the warehouses east of the Capitol Building. That gives him the most access to the stage without having to worry about the density of the crowd. We’ll check that location while Lily gets to her father. Understood? Between our two groups, we should be able to stop this attack.”
Zared walks around to the driver’s side and continues talking. “We’ll head directly into the city by car as far as possible. Stay close.” He jumps into the vehicle.
“Who does this guy think he is?” Nero rolls his eyes, climbing into the backseat of our truck.
Rory glares back at him as she gets in. “That’s the man who’s going to save your life,” she snaps.
“Swoon much?” Nero mumbles.
Rory lets it go with one quick huff. No point in arguing with someone who always has to make a point.
We pull back onto the highway and head into the heart of the city.
In my mind, I replay the last time I saw my parents. It’s hard to remember the specifics, to be honest. It feels like I haven’t really seen either of them in months. But I was just starting to make headway with my mother. We were just beginning to understand each other. Now, I’m back to the beginning. She has to understand me as this whole new person, someone who has seen the world in a different way. My parents don’t like change unless it involves an uptick in the social hierarchy. They suffered enough change during the war to last a lifetime. The disappearance of their only child, no doubt, has le
ft them reeling. Now, just before the election, I’m going to show up and rearrange everything they thought they knew. Again.
I’m apprehensive. There’s a good chance they’ll reject me now. The change will be too much for them, so they’ll shut it out completely.
We reach the city, and Zared wasn’t kidding. It’s a madhouse.
Election Day seems to have brought everyone to the city. People have traveled from the farthest corners of the North American Sector to be at the announcement event. It’s like Times Square used to be on New Year’s Eve. A mecca for dreams and hopes. There are even a few wealthy enough to have flown here from other countries. It’s a historic moment, after all. A day people have been talking about for six years following the collapse of the previous government.
There are people crowding the streets, forcing us to drive slowly, inching our way along. But the closer we get, the more congested it is. We don’t have time for this. My frustration rises each time more people step in front of our car. Again, I’m grateful I didn’t indulge in coffee. Caffeine jitters combined with my anxiety might just cause a heart attack. In fact, I probably don’t even need the caffeine to have one. All I have to do is picture Westerfield’s face, and my heart begins to pound erratically.
The sun follows us like sand in an hourglass trickling down as our time dwindles. At least I’m not the only nervous one. Skylar twiddles his fingers atop the steering wheel. We aren’t getting anywhere, and we don’t have time to waste.
“Maybe we should turn around?” I offer.
“Maybe,” he agrees.
We stay sitting in the middle of the street. Zared will be the one to make the call, and he’s in the car in front of us.
People weave around our car, all converging on the same place. Skylar moves the car an inch and then stomps the brake to avoid hitting a stout man, who shimmies past the bumper. I press my fingers over my eyes.
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