My tent is simple. I have a bedroll, a bin for my dirty clothes and a box for my clean ones. The rocks, shells and pinecones I have collected over the years sit to the right of my bedroll. My knife, fire kit and hunting supplies are to the left. The tent is big enough for me to stretch out in while laying down, but I can't stand up fully.
My sleep comes in fitful waves. The sound of people dying keeps filling my ears and brain. I don't know how to make it stop. It's louder than the storm raging outside. My dreams are full of secrets and half-truths. I wake to the sound of talking. I pull my sweaty hair out of my face and into a ponytail. I dress swiftly and silently. I sense that something is wrong.
I step outside of my tent and am greeted by a dozen backs. People are standing around Angela. She's making a speech. "The ban is in effect until we know more about the situation. Moving might be a very real possibility. We should all be prepared for it."
"Where will we go?" a man asks.
"We have several places in mind," Angela replies. "We'll be safe."
"And what happens when the shield gives out on us?" a woman asks. "We need to leave this area. We need to go west."
It's a concern everyone in camp has spoken at least once. The power supply for the shield will not last forever. Being close to the city has protected us from the fighting, but the government will find us without the shield. We can't stay in one place forever.
"Anyone who wishes to move west may do so," Angela replies stiffly. "But the shield stays here with me."
There is an uncomfortable pause in the group. Even a failing shield is better than no shield. Everyone knows it. The shield will likely last for a decade more. There is no sense in putting problems where none exist.
"I just thought you should be prepared for the possibility," Angela adds into the silence. "And know that we have everything under control."
I don't believe her. Her pacing from the previous day is in my head. It's telling me she's doing more hoping and wishing than looking out for us in a practical, logical way. It makes me uneasy.
She turns away, her speech over. The second she's gone, people start talking about her words. No one wants to move. No one trusts that it will do any good. Moving means exposing us to the drones and RFA. One man claims the forest is crawling with them. Another says the rebel survivors we rescued will be caught and give up our location to the government. Everyone is worried.
I weave around the crowd at his words. I don't know if he's right, but my thoughts have returned to the rebels and the man who attacked Leslie. I want to be sure Leslie is okay and the man is not causing any more trouble.
The medical tent is guarded by Veronica and Fred. They are very serious about their duty. Their eyes remain alert, and they stand very still, their hands on their weapons. They are the perfect soldiers. Fred's hand twitches when he sees me. It's like he's fighting the urge to salute. I smile at them politely as I stop in front of the tent.
"Is Leslie inside?" I ask.
"I'm here," Leslie replies, coming to the door.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"I've had worse," she replies with a smile. Her injury has darkened, but her eyes are clear. It's not as bad as it looked at first sight, though I know her head has to be aching.
She looks over her shoulder. I do as well. The man is awake. He's staring at Leslie. His eyes are strangely empty of emotion. He's taken all of his emotions and buried them behind his neutral expression.
"I don't think right now is the best time to talk," she adds.
"I'll help you with the others," I suggest.
The man does not scare me. I want to prove it to everyone. I don't care if he hurt Leslie and can hurt me as well. I am braver than the threat of violence.
Leslie hesitates. She looks at me for a long minute. She needs the help, but she doesn't want to put me in danger. She gestures me forward and leans in to whisper to me. "Don't speak to the man...and don't let him touch you. He's dangerous. You understand?"
I nod. I don't need her words. I have seen his danger firsthand. She holds the tent flap open for me and I step inside. The man turns his gaze to me. His neutral expression does not fade, though I can tell he recognizes me. The memory of him trying to kill me links us.
"This one needs a new bandage," Leslie says quietly, pointing at the woman. "Take care of it for me, would ya?"
I gather everything I need, then pull a wooden stool close to the woman. I work on her slowly, taking my time and making sure I do everything the way Leslie has taught me.
"I need to talk to you for a moment," Gerald says, opening the tent flap without knocking. He's looking at Leslie.
Leslie sighs and immediately stands. She gives me a reassuring smile and then steps outside. I hear her and Gerald walk away to have their conversation in private. Next to me, the man twists his hands against his restraints. He wants to be free. He does not like being chained to the bed.
"You're very good at that," he tells me.
I look up at him suspiciously. His neutral expression is gone. In its place is a look of gratefulness. I don't know why, but it makes me uncomfortable. He stares at me uncertainly when I don't reply.
"Can you speak?" he asks.
The way he asks the question makes my hackles raise defensively. He doubts my intellect.
"Of course I can," I say. "I'm just trying to figure out what you want. You haven't talked to anyone else here yet...Unless you count threatening them with a laser cutter 'talking.'"
"That was a bit of a misunderstanding," he says. "I thought the RFA had me."
"If they had you, you wouldn't be in a tent. You would be in the city," I say.
"The RFA has tents," he says with a mocking smile. "They have to survive in the forest, too."
"Made of metal, maybe," I say.
"Metal tents?"
"Everything the government has is made of metal. It's all shiny and hard," I say.
"You could be right," he decides.
I remember Leslie's words. "I don't think I should be talking to you," I add.
"Why not?"
"You're dangerous," I say. "And you tried to kill me."
"That was-"
"Don't say it was a misunderstanding," I snap at him. "You would have killed me had your pistol not run out of charge. Serves you right for using one of those new guns the RFA likes so much. They don't work worth a damn."
"I lost my weapon in the fight," he says. "It was the first thing I touched."
"I don't care," I reply.
I refocus on the woman. I clean out the last of the blood and replace the bandage. The silence stretches out around us. The man continues to stare at me. I wonder what he's thinking.
"Did you save me?" he asks. "Are you the reason I'm here?"
I shrug at him without looking at his face.
"Thank you," he adds.
I leave the tent before the last word is out of his mouth. I walk to the creek, knowing I'll find Max there. I want to talk to him. He'll know what's going on and how to make me feel better. He's sitting on the bank. He has a food pack in hand. The packs are what we survive on when food is lean. We all hate them. They taste like dirt, though they have all the essential nutrients and vitamins we need. His expression is sour. I associate it with the food pack.
"Serves you right for eating that thing," I say.
"It was the only thing in my tent," he replies absently. "And I feel guilty for not bringing back that deer like we promised. I didn't want to eat the others' food."
"Yeah," I agree.
"I guess we won't be able to hunt for a while," he adds.
"Not until Devlin is certain the RFA is gone," I say.
"It's not fair!" he complains. "I want to be out there helping him."
"Is that why you two were arguing yesterday?" I ask.
"He says it's too dangerous. He says there are things going on here that I'm not old enough to know about. Me! I'm eighteen for God's sake!"
"Do you think it has something to d
o with Angela?" I ask tentatively.
"Angela?" Max asks. "What about her?"
"You know Devlin's dislike," I say. "Maybe he thinks she's not smart enough to protect us from the RFA. Maybe he wants us to stay here so he knows where we are in case we have to make a quick exit."
"Then why didn't he say as much? You know Devlin. He doesn't waste words."
"I don't know," I reply.
"What are you guys doing?" Riley asks, plopping down next to me.
"Just talking," Max says, shooting me a cautionary look. We can't talk about Angela in front of Riley. No matter how much Riley wants to leave camp, Angela is still her grandmother.
"About what?" she asks.
"How scrawny you are," Max replies. "Shouldn't you be taller by now?"
Riley's blush is immediate. "I'm as tall as I need to be," she replies stiffly.
"Barely taller than a baby deer," Max decides.
"Stop teasing her," I say.
"Thank you," Riley replies primly.
"Besides, she can't help the fact that she's so short," I add.
Riley turns and punches me in the arm. It stings, but she doesn't punch very hard. I laugh at her and she smiles.
Max shakes his head at us. "So juvenile," he decides.
"Oh yeah?" I ask.
"Yeah," he agrees.
I turn and punch him in the shoulder. I know my punch is harder. He winces. "How's that for juvenile?"
His expression turns mock serious and he moves forward to attack me. Before he can grab me, a thin whisper reaches out to touch us.
"RFA...RFA..."
It gets repeated over and over again. It is a shiver in the wind, a quiet warning everyone in camp hears. The RFA is nearby. Max and I share a look. Riley freezes. The sounds that typically characterize camp die out. The forest is the loudest thing around us. We all know that if the RFA walks into the shield, they'll figure us out. They'll come back with bigger guns. They'll blast us from the sky; we'll never see it coming.
Max jumps to his feet and runs to his tent. I know he's getting the rifle we share to hunt. Riley stares at me fearfully. She doesn't know what to do. I take her hand and pull her after me. I go to my tent and grab my knife. I know that fighting them is useless, but it's my first instinct. If Max is going to fight, so am I.
Still dragging Riley, I follow Max to the front door. Devlin has his body pressed against the tree closest to the door. His rifle is raised, and his eyes show his focus. He's the reason for the warning. Max moves to Devlin's left side. He mimics Devlin's posture. The other soldiers are also ready to fire, though they do not have Devlin's and Max's sense to find cover. I push Riley behind a large barrel and grip my knife tightly.
I wonder if the shield will trap us. How will we escape if they storm the shield? It'll fry us alive if we run in to it. I have never felt more trapped in my life. Children whimper in their tents, and parents shush their babies. How many of them will die?
The minutes pass. The dull thap-thap-thap of a nearby drone fills my head. The sounds of feet snapping twigs and low conversation washes over the camp as well. The troops are so close. Are they feet away? Inches? Will an accident bring them to our door?
I'm back in the cave again, only this time the screams will be from people I care about and love. My eyes switch to Max. His hands are steady. He has no fear in his eyes. He does not worry about the outcome of the fight. He is confident he will win. I wish I could share his emotion.
The sounds slowly die away. The breeze shatters my calm. It seems so loud around the sudden silence. I let out a long breath. Devlin moves over to the door. He doesn't open it, but I sense a longing to follow the soldiers. He wants to fight. He knows the camp needs him more. He wants to be sure of them before he exposes the camp to possible attack.
He listens for a long time. "I think they're gone," he finally says.
There is a collective sigh of relief. People stand and start whispering to one another. It's difficult to talk in full voice after the silence of our wait. No one wants to take the chance they will be overheard.
"I'm going to make sure they don't double back," Devlin adds to Max. "I want you to keep an eye on things."
Max's chest swells with pride at Devlin's words. It's as good as leaving Max in charge. No one argues with Devlin's commands. We all know he is the most qualified to give them. His power is second only to Angela's, though he does not wield it very often.
Devlin doesn't give Max long to enjoy his words. "Don't screw up," he adds.
He turns away and puts his hand against the reader. He slips out of the door, closes it behind him, and is gone. Max turns to me and smiles. He knows we're in the middle of a serious situation, but he's happy to finally have Devlin's trust. His smile falls when he realizes the others are staring at him. He takes a deep breath.
"We need to have someone at the door at all times. And a perimeter sweep every half hour until Devlin gets back to make sure the RFA hasn't doubled back. We don't want them to surprise us."
The soldiers nod in agreement, taking to Max's command immediately. The younger fighters don't look nearly as confident. They think of Max as their friend, not a leader. I'm surprised at how capable he sounds.
The people with weapons surround Max and he assigns them all duties. He completely ignores me. He doesn't want me to join in on the protection of the camp. I watch in irritation as Max leaves the door to conduct the first perimeter search. The second he's gone Angela appears. She has finally left her tent. My eyes narrow as I look at her. Shouldn't she be the one giving orders? Where had she been when the danger had been so close? My instinct tells me she was hiding.
I glance over at Riley for her reaction. She does not like the fact that Angela hid during such a scary moment. I take a deep breath to release my tension, then realize that I don't want to be near the door anymore. I walk with Riley to the medical tent.
More than anything, I want to throw the rebels out. I want them gone. Their presence in our camp is making everything more complicated than it has to be. I don't care about them getting better. I find it difficult to empathize with them around my fear. I know we have the same enemy, but the RFA is hunting them right now, not us. They are the reason my friends and family are in danger. I want them gone. I know I will not get my wish.
Chapter 5
Controllers (Book 1) Page 4